She was quiet. Neither of us spoke for a long moment.
"I have an offer to join an international team this summer. I'm considering doing it. I was going to suggest you visit with Uncle Palaver then, anyway." she revealed.
"Then no harm's been done." I said. "I'm just doing it a little sooner. I'm happy for you. Brenda. Go do what you are meant to do. Follow the wheel,"
"What the heck does that mean?" She actually laughed.
"Look it up. It's called the medicine wheel. It's an Indian thing." "Okay, okay. Take care of yourself, April. I'm sorry we've never been closer than we are. Maybe most of this is my fault."
"It's no one's fault. It just is," I said.
"Will you call me once in a while and tell me how you are?"
"Yes." I promised.
"And don't forget to get an address from Uncle Palaver for where I can send you money."
"Okay," I said. I could feel the line between us beginning to thin out and drift off. It felt as if we had un-clasped each other's hand.
"Good-bye. April," she said. "'Bye," I replied.
She hung up first. I stood there with the dead receiver in my hand. I felt cold and numb, and for a moment. I couldn't breathe. I was like an astronaut who had stepped out of his space vehicle and was just hanging in space. Despite it all, she was still my sister. She was the last tie to what once had been a wonderful family life.
"Good-bye," I said again, even though I knew she was gone. Then I hung up the phone and returned to the motor home, where Uncle Palaver was preparing himself and his Destiny for the evening's performance. He was already dressed in his fancy tuxedo and top hat with his white gloves.
"What happened?" he asked. and I told him. He gave me an address for Brenda to use and didn't talk about my returning, which pleased me until he added. "Destiny is concerned about you but for now agrees it's all right."
He showed me his transmitter for the doll and explained how he used it.
"I'd want you to practice first. We don't want to mess up an illusion. Once you do that, you spoil the whole evening for the audience," he said. "We'll do it tomorrow,"
I saw a costume draped over the sofa. It was a glittering silver- sequined bathing suit with a black sash. He told me it was something Destiny wore when she came out onstage with him during the early days of their act together. He said she would bring out some of the set pieces, and in one trick, she would crawl into a box that he would then take apart and show was empty.
"If I lose enough weight and fit into that. can I do the trick with you and bring things out to you?" I asked.
"Well. I don't know. I . . .well, I guess you could," he said. nodding. "Destiny would like that. too, I'm sure. But don't go starving yourself like some women do," he warned.
He checked his watch and decided it was time to get backstage. He went into the bedroom and brought the life-size replica of Destiny out in his arms. I opened the door for him and followed him to the rear entrance of the theater. As we walked, I heard him talking to the doll, describing the theater and reminding it of when they were last in the area.
"People are different all over America, but when they are in an audience watching a magician, hypnotist, and memory expert, they all become children," he said.
The way he reacted made even me feel the doll had agreed. He told me to go out, watch the show, and be a critic,
"I want you to watch everything and see if you can tell anything I'm doing and also keep track of how the audience reacts to each thing. That way. I'll know what I should keep for the next show and what I shouldn't. Okay?"
"Yes. Uncle Palaver."
"Don't hold back," he said. "We can take criticism."
We?
"Okay," I said.
One of the stagehands came over to talk to Uncle Palaver, and after hearing what he wanted done, he stepped up to speak to Inc.
He was a young man with curly black hair and a well-trimmed goatee.
"Are you one of Palaver's assistants?" he asked me. "The only one," I replied.