April Shadows

  "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.

  "I was here last year when he performed. You weren't with him then?"

  "He's my uncle," I revealed. "I recently joined him on the road."

  "Oh. Are you a magician and hypnotist. too?"

  "No, hardly. I don't do anything magical," I said dryly.

  He stepped more into the light, and I saw he had the most strikingly black pearl eyes, a tight firm jaw, and a perfectly straight nose. Why was he backstage? I wondered. He could be a movie star. "How long have you been a stagehand?"

  "My dad owns this theater," he said. "I've been here since I was ten. I'm not a stagehand, by the way. I'm the stage manager. I run it all. Dad's semiretired. Right now, he's off deep-sea fishing with friends, in fact. Your uncle's sold-out tonight."

  "That's wonderful."

  "Yeah. He's nearly sold-out for tomorrow night, too. If it goes well tonight. I'm sure he will be. My name's Russell. Russell Blackman." he said, offering his hand. I shook it quickly.

  "I'm April Taylor."

  "Hey!" he screamed at a man pulling up a scrim. "Go easy with that. It's tight. You could rip it."

  The man slowed down quickly.

  "It's hard to get good help for something like this. Half the time. I'd rather bring in high school kids who are at least excited about being backstage." He peered at me a little harder. "How old are you. April?"

  "I'm eighteen," I lied. "nu just taking some time off to decide what I want to do."

  "Yeah, good idea. Well, it's almost show time. If you get bored afterward, stop by my office. It's back there." he said, pointing toward the stage right wing. "Kind of a second home to me these days. I usually like to wind down for a few hours after a theatrical evening, order in a pizza. It's something I learned from my father. You have to relax after a night like this. Hey!" he screamed at someone else. "Tighten that floodlight. I can see from here that it's too loose." He shook his head. "The theater. Except for my cashier and my bookkeeper. I've far more turnover than the front wheels on a race car. See you," he said, and walked off.

  Why would he invite me backstage? I wondered. I was probably too deep in the shadows for him to see what I really looked like.

  I hurried out to the audience to take my seat and watch the show. It was much like the previous show, only Uncle Palaver added some additional and more spectacular tricks, the most amazing being levitating himself. He used Destiny, of course, and to the audience, the doll somehow was the one causing him to lift slowly off the stage floor and hover in midair. She raised her right arm slowly, and he moved upward along with it. When she brought it down, he came down. The audience applauded loudly, and I heard people asking each other how he could do that.

  The great finish with the mock argument brought the audience to their feet again. I clapped harder than some of the members of the audience. and I knew how he did it. There was something about stepping out of reality and into the world of illusion that was so comforting and easy for me. I belong with him, I thought. I really do.It's in my blood as much as his, perhaps.

  Afterward. I helped him gather up his things to bring back to the motor home. He carried Destiny in and put her back in the bedroom.

  "Well," he said. returning. "I guess we did all right tonight. Maybe we'll sell out tomorrow's performance."

  "Russell thinks you will," I told him.

  "Russell? Oh, the owner's kid. Yeah. You want something to eat?"

  I thought about Russell's invitation. "I was invited to have some pizza backstage," I said.

  Uncle Palaver looked surprised. "Oh. really. That's nice. Mingle with the theater people, and get a feel for it. I used to do that a lot, but with Destiny's condition and all. I don't go anywhere usually. Go ahead. Don't stay out too late." he said. "I'm just going to relax a bit myself, describe the show to Destiny. She loves hearing about it."

  He went to the cabinet above the sink and took out a full bottle of bourbon. I saw he had two more as well.

  "We'll practice the big finish tomorrow," he added, and went to the bedroom.

  I hesitated, wondering if I should go backstage. Was that just politeness, or did Russell Blackman really mean it? It could be very embarrassing. I thought. I stepped out of the motor home and walked slowly through the warm evening. The excitement of the show, the wonderful reception Uncle Palaver had gotten, and his amazing performance filled me with hope. I could really become part of all this. I thought. I suddenly had a thirst for knowledge about the theater. I wanted to learn as much as I could as fast as I was able to, so I could impress Uncle Palaver and become truly an integral part of his act. Who knew? Maybe I could become a magician alongside him. It would be a real family show. Wouldn't Mama have been amazed?

  There was no one backstage when I stepped into the theater through the rear door. The only light there was came from the emergency lights above exit doors. actually. I made my way across the stage to the stage-right wing, where I heard some music coming from a room toward the rear. The door was slightly opened. The sound of a girl's laugh made me pause. Then I heard Russell cry. "Terrific!"

  I stepped up to the doorway and saw him sprawled on a sofa. An open pizza box was on the table before him with a six-pack of beer. A tall, thin blond-haired girl in a white halter and knee- length skirt was pouring a glass of beer. She was leaning against the desk. Russell saw me and sat up quickly.

  "Hey. April, come in. This is Palaver's niece," he told the girl. She looked at me and smiled. "My cousin Tess." he said. introducing her.

  "Fourth cousin, twice removed," she added, and they both laughed. "Hi." she said. "Want a beer?"

  "Sure," I said.

  "The pizza's still hot and pretty good," Russell said.

  I looked at it with ravenous eyes. I had been doing so well on my diet. but I hadn't eaten much today. I rationalized.

  "Thank you."

  I took a piece in a napkin and the glass of beer Tess poured and sat across from Russel
l.

  "Your uncle had a great night," he said. "The feedback was terrific. We're expecting a sell-out tomorrow night. People around here love these kinds of shows. Right. Tess?"

  "Oh. yes. I thought he was great, How did he do that thing where he just rises straight up?"

  "I'm not allowed to reveal any secrets," I said, and they both laughed.

  "I'll tell you something." Russell said, leaning forward. "I've seen a lot from backstage, of course, but the way he talks to that big puppet and the way it reacts had me going. I could almost believe it was real. right. Tess?"

  She nodded.

  "I mean, the detail in the face, the skin or whatever it is that's supposed to be skin, and those eyes. everything. It's the best mannequin I've seen."

  "Me. too," Tess said. "So, where are you from?"

  "Tennessee."

  "How long have you been with your uncle?"

  "A while." I said, trying to keep it as vague as I could. "I'm exploring my options."

  "That's what Tess has been doing, too. For years," Russell added, and laughed. She punched him playfully in the shoulder.

  "Is it true that show people are more

  promiscuous?" Tess asked after a moment.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Loose, fun, uninhibited," she added.

  "I've always found it to be so." Russell said.

  "Tell me about it," Tess commented. "You know what they call this office?"

  "All right, keep it to yourself," Russell said sharply.

  "We're not hicks out here," Tess continued. "People who come through always think we are. Are you cool?" she asked me.

  "I'm not sure what you mean." I said cautiously. "I suppose I am."

  They both laughed.

  "She's a careful one," Tess said. "Yeah, aren't we all."

  He reached under the table and put a packet of what looked like folded wax paper on it. Then he smiled at Tess and me and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a laver of fine white powder. He reached into his shirt pocket and produced three very small straws. He took a razor and began to cut up the powder into lines.

  "Tess," he said, pointing to the first line. He gave her a straw. "April," he said, pointing to the second and handing me a straw. I looked at them and took it quickly.

  He held the third straw for himself.

  "Ladies, shall we begin the festivities?" he asked. and Tess moved to the table, got on her Imees, brought the straw to her line, put the other end in her nostril, and began to inhale as she moved it up the line, sucking up the powder like a miniature vacuum cleaner.

  "Wow!" she cried, throwing her head back. "This is good stuff."

  "Only the best for my cousin," Russell said. He looked at me. "You're next," he said.

  How many times in our lives do we come to these sorts of crossroads? I could hand him back the straw, turn away, and walk out. I thought. It might make him angry or nervous, and he might take it out on Uncle Palaver somehow, Maybe he would deliberately ruin his show, and I would have been responsible for that. They both thought I was cool, street-smart, just because I was on the road with Uncle Palaver. Is this what it meant. too? I wondered.

  If there was one thing Brenda used to rage about, it was young people and drugs, anything that deteriorated health and stamina. She also hated the use of enhancing drugs that made some athletes look superior. How many times had I sat and listened to her lectures and tirades, especially after she had seen a teammate use some hallucinogenic? I hadn't spoken to her twenty-four hours ago, and here I was confronted by the very thing she despised.

  "C'mon," Russell said.

  "We have places to go yet." Tess laughed.

  I approached the table, got on my knees as she had, and put the straw awkwardly to the line of white powder. Instead of sucking it up. however. I accidentally breathed out too fast and hard. I was just that nervous. The powder lifted away from the bottom of my straw, and both Tess and Russell jumped back as though they were afraid to be touched by any of it.

  "Hey! Jeez! Damn! That's expensive." Russell cried,

  "I'm sorry." I moaned.

  "She's never done this before." Tess declared, her eves wide and bright.

  Russell looked from her to me. "Is that right?'

  "I'm sorry." I said.

  "Get up. Get away from it before you ruin my line," he ordered.

  I stood up quickly. He lowered himself and, with his eyes on me, brought his straw to his line and inhaled it all so fast I thought it might blow off the top of his head. He sat back on his haunches and shook his head.

  "You're not eighteen, are you?" he accused.

  Tess moved around on my right and drew closer to me. "How old are you? Huh?" she

  demanded, poking me in the shoulder.

  "I'm seventeen," I confessed.

  Tess looked at Russell. "Maybe that's not really her uncle, either." she told him.

  He nodded.

  "Yes, he is," I cried."He's my mother's brother."

  "I don't know," Tess said, tucking in the right corner of her mouth. "Something smells here. right. Russell?"

  "Right," he said.

  "How's a young girl live with a grown man in a motor home?" Tess asked him.

  "Makes me wonder." he said, staring at inc. "If I were you, I wouldn't say anything to anyone about this," he added, nodding at the residue of white powder."

  "I wouldn't," I said. I rose to my feet and stepped toward the door.

  "Where you going?" Tess asked.

  "I thought you didn't want me here anymore.

  "The fun's just beginning." Tess said. "Take it easy. She's fresh fish," she told Russell, and his smile widened.

  He brought his razor back to the paper and created another line with what he could scrape up.

  "Try again," he said. "Hold your breath until you get the straw on it, and then inhale."

  I glanced at it and then looked at Tess, who was staring at me with a strange, twisted smile on her face. What else did she have in mind? What did he mean when he said we had places to go yet?

  "I don't think I should," I said, "I'd better get back before my uncle gets upset."

  "We'd feel better if you did," Russell said firmly.

  "A lot better," Tess said, drawing closer to me.

  "I just don't want to waste any more."

  "You won't," Russell said. He sat back. "C'mon. First time is often the most exciting."

  Tess was right over me.

  I returned to the table, put the straw to the powder, my fingers visibly trembling, and then closed my eyes and inhaled. The moment the first grains hit my nostrils. I panicked and fell back.

  They both laughed. I got up quickly.

  "I can't do it!" I screamed, and ran out the door, nearly running into a set of rope weight. I twisted myself, turned, and continued across the backstage, their laughter still following me.

  "Keep your mouth shut!" I heard Russell shout.

  I burst out of the rear door of the theater and hurried to the motor home. My heart was thumping. I desperately tried to calm myself before going in. I surely didn't want Uncle Palaver to see me like this and find out what I had done. He'd insist I go back, for sure.

  Instead of going in. I circled the motor home. My body felt hot. As I walked. I felt more excited, stronger and suddenly very alert to any sound or light. When I looked up, the stars seemed closer, brighter. My heart continued to race. and I walked faster. I imagined myself walking so hard and fast that I was digging a ditch around the motor home. It made me stop and laugh.

  I leaned against the side of the motor home, not realizing until I heard the sobbing that I was right beneath the bedroom window. I could hear every sound from within clearly. Uncle Palaver's sobs became louder. /Ye got to go to him, I thought. Something terrible is happening.

  I charged toward the front door, opening it quickly and stepping into the motor home, Then I hurried down to the bedroom door and listened. He was still sobbing, but it was softer. I knocked,


  "Uncle Palaver, are you all right?"

  "What are you doing?" I heard, and spun around.

  Uncle Palaver was sitting at the wheel, drinking from his bottle. I looked at him and then at the door and then back to him.

  "You'd better go to sleep," he said. "We have another big day tomorrow."

  He turned away and stared out the window.

  I could still hear what surely was his sobbing coming from the bedroom.

  Why did he want that to go on? Didn't he hear it, too? He just sat there, drinking and staring out the window at the darkness. I felt my nerve endings crackling and stepped into the bathroom.

  Afterward. I climbed into my bunk, but trying to catch sleep made me feel like one of those greyhound dogs on a dog racetrack trying to catch the mechanical rabbit. Around and around I went, exhausting myself, but not falling asleep.

  Finally, a good hour or so later. I felt fatigue settle into me like water soaking in a sponge. Uncle Palaver was still sipping his bourbon and looking out the window below me.

  Before I fell asleep. I sobbed silently myself.

  Being, on the road wasn't as adventurous and wonderful as I had expected.

  It was just a different journey through a maze of disappointments and sadness.

  Everyone, after all, was chasing that unattainable rabbit.

  19 Uncle Palaver's Final Act

  . I was tired and achy the next day. The bunk was cramped and uncomfortable for me because I had tossed and turned all night, apparently. I went through the same breakfast illusion with Uncle Palaver. He made the oatmeal and took it to Destiny in the bedroom. I drank more coffee and found I was too hungry to eat just my plain eggs. I ravished the Danish that was still there.

  Just as before. Uncle Palaver seemed to have no hangover from his night of continuous drinking. He took out the Destiny doll in the afternoon, and he and I practiced with the transmitter until he was satisfied I could perform the tricks well enough for him to entrust it to me.

  I had a chance to look at the life-size puppet more closely, and I was impressed with the detailed attention to her face, right down to a small birthmark right under her lower lip. Why would that have mattered? Who could possibly see such a thing from the audience? Uncle Palaver was able to have the doll in a standing position as well as sitting, and for the first time. I wondered if some of the publicity shots and posters pictures he had sent us weren't taken of him and the doll and not the real Destiny.