April Shadows (Shadows 1)

"How do you do it?" I asked finally.

"Do what?' He turned and held the spoon up. "Make oatmeal?"

"No," I said. smiling. "How do you get the doll to turn its head and move like that?"

"Oh. that. Okay. I'll tell you that because it's not so much a magic trick as it is a technical thing. I have this transmitter in my pocket, and the doll has little receivers in it. The puppet maker came up with that idea. Audiences just love the end of the act. Sometimes. I really overdo it. I run off the stage into the audience and out of the theater, or apparently out of the theater. I sneak around to get to the transmitter's range,"

"But the voice, too?"

"It's on a tape recorder. and I trigger that as well so it plays over the sound system in the theater. Now you know the secret." He thought a moment. "You know, I just had an idea. Something for you to do. We'll have to practice until I'm satisfied, of course,

"What?" I asked. excited.

"I'll show you how to manipulate the transmitter. You can do it from the audience. That way, the audience will be even more impressed. because I'll make my exit very obvious and

convincing. I'll go out a side door or something. What do you think?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll do anything to be an the road with you,"

He nodded and then shook his head, "I'm just dreaming. You can't be on the road with me. April. You should be in school."

It's all right. I'll do what's known as high school equivalency. You can be my legal guardian, Uncle Palaver. I'm sure Brenda won't min d or even care," I said.

"I don't know." He looked toward the bedroom. "With Destiny and all..."

"I'll help you with her. too," I blurted. "I mean, I'll do anything you need done."

What was I saving? I knew what I was saving to him, but what was I saying to myself? Simple. I thought. I was willing to go along with anything as long as I could stay with him and not be forced to return to Brenda and that life. What harm would it do. anyway? If he was happy like this. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

He considered. "Maybe." he said. "Maybe,"

He poured the oatmeal into a bawl and put it on a tray.

"Fix your breakfast. April. I want to get started in about a half hour or so. We still have a distance to drive, and there's preparation before the show at the theater itself."

I watched him walk to the bedroom, carrying the tray. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. I heard his voice, muffled but sounding sweet and concerned. I heard my name mentioned. too.

Uncle Palaver's world is a world of illusion, I told myself. To him, this all probably seems acceptable. Of course. I wondered what really happened to Destiny and how long he had been carrying on the illusion, but I thought in time he would tell me all. He would sit and explain everything when he got to know me better, perhaps, or when he trusted me. I wouldn't betray him. Never. I knew what pain that brought.

I made my breakfast, and afterward, when he came out and told me she was asleep, I washed the empty bowl and other dishes and silverware while he went out to check the hitch and the car. Minutes later, we were on our way. I sat beside him and listened to him talk about his plans for the next show he would perform. He described some of the tricks and illusions and rambled on and on about some of the audiences recently and funny things that had occurred. Whenever he described an event or a place, he always mentioned Destiny and what she had thought or done. She was obviously woven so tightly into his memory and life now that it would take serious psychiatric surgery to get her out, and for what reason? He wasn't harming anyone, and it all made it easier for him to go on.

It reminded me of the play Harvey about the invisible rabbit. In the end. Dowd's sister realized he was better off believing and seeing the rabbit. All the psychiatrist could do was make him unhappy.

When we were young, we needed to believe in Santa Claus or some other wonderful illusion. When we were older, we fixated on movie stars or singers and built them up into people much -renter than they were. We were always looking toward someone or something to give us some hope and excitement, to fill and complete our lives. So Uncle Palaver believed in his Destiny, so what?

I had nothing to believe in, and look how empty, how hollow and lost. I felt. Who was I to criticize and destroy his illusions?

No. I thought. If he wanted me to bring her the oatmeal tomorrow. I would, and I would pretend just as he did that she was there to receive it.

I would do anything to keep moving, because in my mind, I was moving away from all the sadness and disappointment that trailed behind. I longed to be able to forget the past and think only of what lay ahead.

When we arrived at Uncle Palaver's next venue, however, there was a message from Brenda waiting for him. Somehow, she had realized I would be going to see him. Perhaps she had noticed the missing schedule sheet. It surprised me that she could remember it, or else she somehow had located another. As it turned out, she had known how to contact Uncle Palaver's booking agent.

"Your sister is looking for you," he told me, "She left a message telling me you've ran away and wondered if I knew anything. I've got to call her back,"

"Don't," I said.

"We can't do that. April. You have to speak with her. Things could only become worse for you and even for me if you don't," he insisted. "Either you call her. or I will, What will it be?"