"I have some book work to attend to," Mrs. Westington said. "She doesn't mind watching television with you, even though she can't hear it. She clings to any companionship," she added sadly. "And I'm not much to cling to these days. I'm up at seven." she concluded, and left us.
Echo was determined to show me as much about herself as she could. She pulled out family albums, school papers, and other pictures. At one point. I found a book on sign language. and I sat with her and practiced some of the hand gestures. That pleased her the most and made me laugh as well. Finally, the full impact of the day's events settled on me. and I told her I had to get some sleep. She was disappointed, but she understood, and after I helped her put everything back, she ascended the stairs with me. At my door, she showed me how to say good night and then, timidly but eagerly, she kissed me on the cheek and went off to her own room.
At that moment. I pitied her for living in a world of silence. But I also envied her for not being able to hear the voices, the cries, and the sobs that echoed in my own mind.
There were two windows in the bedroom that had once been Mrs. Westington's daughter's bedroom. They looked out on the east end of the house, and when I gazed out of them now. I saw the back of the motor home and my car where Trevor had parked them. I could understand selling the vehicle and most of Uncle Palaver's things, but I decided I didn't want to see his magic equipment sold. and I especially didn't want to see the Destiny doll taken away. I had no idea now what I would do with it all, but I made up my mind to make that a requirement of my remaining here in Mrs. Westington's home. I saw no reason why she would be opposed.
As darkness thickened and the stars began to brighten. I thought about the journey I had taken to arrive at this place. Was everyone's life as
convoluted? Did everyone travel through a similar kind of maze, where each turn caused us to go in one direction or another? It seemed chaotic to me, until I thought about the way each event determined the next. Maybe there was a pattern. Maybe Uncle Palaver's doll was aptly named. and we were all in the hands of Destiny, one way or another.
Wasn't that what Mrs. Westington believed? That fate had brought me here?
Perhaps it had. Perhaps Echo had signed a prayer to God asking for someone like me to be brought to her doorstep. Who was I to question anything anymore, whether it be Peter Smoke's medicine wheel. Uncle Palaver's obsession for a lost love, or Mrs. Westington's confidence in a reason for everything?
So much about our lives is illusion. I thought. Daddy had tried to create one to replace his tragic reality for us. Brenda had accepted one with Celia that became a bubble and burst. And I had run off pursuing my own shadows and wishful thinking. I quickly understood that Uncle Palaver was simply drawing from that well of fantasy and serving it back to his audiences.
One way or another, we all arrive here. I thought. We all stop and watch the darkness swallow up the shadows and the illusions. Then we turn to ourselves and hope to find the strength to look into the face of reality and go on. That's what Mrs. Westington was doing or trying to do. She had asked me to join hands with her.
I was about to begin' another journey, make a turn in the maze. What was at the end of it?
Happiness?
More sadness?
Or just another turn?
Tomorrow would be the beginning of my pursuit of the answer.
So, good night, Daddy, I thought. Good night, Mama and Brenda and Uncle Palaver.
I put my lips to the window and gazed at Uncle Palaver's motor home.
"Good night, Destiny." I whispered.
Somewhere inside me, I believed she heard.