Girl in the Shadows (Shadows 2)

She raised her eyebrows at how quickly I had come to Tyler's defense. It embarrassed me. too.

"I mean, he's just trying to get me to make up for all this time lost. I didn't do any schoolwork when I was on the road with my uncle."

"Uh-huh," she said. She tried to hide a smile from me and went to busy herself with dinner preparations. I hurried out and up to my room. My head was swirling with confusion. Yes. I would like to be with Brenda again. I thought. She was my only family, despite what had occurred, but the life she proposed for me sounded so tentative and so lonely, and not so much different from the way it had been in Memphis. Surely it wouldn't be long before she'd find someone, a new companion. and I would be shoved to the back of the bus again. I longed to be independent, despite my age. I didn't want her to be my legal guardian. If someone like Tyler Monahan proposed to me, I'd accept in a heartbeat.

Was that even a remote possibility or was I just as immature as Echo when it came to my fantasies?

I gazed at myself in the mirror. Was I such a lost cause? Couldn't I lose weight, make myself attractive, have a young man seriously consider me, fall in love with me? Wasn't I capable of loving a man? In a true sense, I suppose if I wanted to be honest. I would admit that I wasn't much more sop

histicated about it all than Echo was. If Tyler Monahan only knew the truth about me when it came to my experiences with boys. I thought, he'd be quite surprised.

I returned to the closet, where Rhona's pretty and sexy clothing hung like a tantalizing promise, daring me to turn it into a reality. I vowed then and there to get up earlier every morning and jog just as Brenda used to do. I had to develop an attitude. I had to hate the body I was in and swear to myself I would get out of it. Brenda once told me to conjure up a vision of myself as I would like to see myself and whenever I looked into a mirror. I should be unsatisfied until I saw that vision reflected back.

"Focus," she urged, "Become a monomaniac. Think only of that goal and twist and turn everything to service it. Focus, focus, focus," she chanted at me.

I know it annoyed and even disgusted her that I could never do it. I would try to do it for a while and then drift back to my self-destructive ways.

"You're a lost cause," she would tell me. "Don't ask me for anymore help or advice. I don't like wasting my time and energy on someone who really doesn't care about helping herself."

I couldn't call it tough love because her face was really filled with disdain. The tough was there but not the love, and it was no act for my benefit. I often thought she wished I wasn't related to her, and in school I saw the way she would ignore me, pretending I wasn't around. If she didn't see or hear from me all that day, it wouldn't bother her a bit. In fact, she preferred it. She had a joke she used often. "We had a different mailman when April was born."

Her attitude about me often made me wonder if Daddy had the same thoughts when he looked at me. I was caught in a maddening cycle. The more depressed I became about myself, the more I abused myself, and the abuse continued to make me distasteful to myself.

It's got to end, I thought. I need self-discipline. To punctuate my conclusions. I dropped to the floor and began to go through a battery of exercises Brenda had once designed for me: leg lifts, sit-ups, trunk twists, even jogging in place until my heart was pounding and I was sweating so much, my body was slippery. Then I took a shower, instead of a bath, and scrubbed at my rolls of fat so hard, someone would think I was trying to shave them off.

Tired, but surprisingly happy about it. I dressed and went down to dinner, determined to push away the delicious but fattening foods Mrs. Westington had prepared. She would be upset. but I would stand my ground. She was sure to see the determination in my face and retreat.

However, instead of being upset with me. Mrs. Westington had an amused look on her face when I limited my portion of mashed potatoes to a teaspoon and I took no bread and butter. I ate only the chicken and vegetables and drank a glass of water. Once in a while I caught her and Trevor exchanging glances. I absolutely refused to eat any dessert, especially her homemade blackberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was dying to have it, but I slammed down the lid hard on my gluttony,

"Aren't you feeling all right, dear?" Mrs. Westington asked me. "You're not eating very much."

"I'm fine, I have to lose weight." I said. "My sister reminded me when we spoke," I added, even though she hadn't.

"Oh. Well, your sister is looking after your best interests. I'm sure," she said. I thought I saw her wink at Trevor.

Echo appeared to be mimicking my eating, however, and that did annoy Mrs. Westington. I quickly signed to her that I had to lose weight. She didn't. She remembered I had told her I had no boyfriend because I was too fat.

"You want a boyfriend now?" she asked me through her "No." I told her. "I just want to like myself."

She looked skeptical and then she ate normally.

That night, after dinner, while Echo was doing her homework, I returned to the motor home by myself. I stepped in quietly, flicked on the light switch, and closed the door behind me. Then I went into the living room and sat on the sofa across from Destiny. Now that Mrs. Westington had given me permission to do so. I decided I would take her into the house and up to my room after all. I couldn't help thinking she was lonely, but maybe I was just projecting my own loneliness. Any day now, our attorney would be calling to tell me to get the motor home ready for auction anyway. I'd have to come here and pack away all that was inside, the linens, dishes, books, and mementos that had belonged to Uncle Palaver. I had to decide what of that I wanted to keep and what I wanted to give away or sell.

To me it looked like Destiny was sitting there anticipating something very dramatic would be done with her. I imagined the doll missing Uncle Palaver. I was thinking like a little girl who talked to her doll as if the doll were alive. As children we could pretend and no one would think it was anything but cute, but at a certain age, all make-believe had to stop abruptly or else we'd be considered abnormal. And yet we all talk to ourselves as if there were someone else there, as if we were two people, chastising ourselves for doing something stupid, complimenting ourselves for doing something good. We need to talk to ourselves, don't we? I thought. The doll just made it easier in a real way.

"It's time to go," I told Destiny. "Time to leave. Uncle Palaver's never coming back. We're alone in the world, you and I. We have only each other now. I can't imagine Brenda liking my bringing you into her home. but I promise. I won't go anywhere without you,"

I fought the temptation to throw my voice and have Destiny reply to me just the way Uncle Palaver often did. If I did that. I would surely scare myself. I thought, and sighed deeply. I looked around. I really had to beg-in organizing things in here. Maybe tomorrow I'd ask Trevor to give me some of the cartons he had for the cases of wine and I, would label everything after I had packed it away.

I looked at my watch. Carrying Destiny back to the house and up the stairs to my bedroom would be quite a sight. I wanted Echo to be asleep and even Mrs. Westington to be in her room. I'll just wait, I thought. I was going to turn on the little television set and rose to do so, when I heard a gentle tapping at the motor home door.

It surprised me.

"Who could that be?" I asked Destiny.

I rose and opened the door to see Tyler Monahan standing there.

"Hi," he said.