"What are you doing?" Mrs. Westington cried when she set eyes on me. "How did you get so wet? That's a cold rain out there. girl. Let's get you into a hot bath right away before you come down with pneumonia."
Echo came up beside her and stared at me. confused. She signed, "What happened?"
I signed back that I had gone running and got caught in the rain. I slipped off my sneakers and pealed off my soaked socks.
"Give me that," Mrs. Westington ordered. I handed her the socks. "Go on up and get out of those wet clothes. Start running the tub. Lardy dee."
Like a puppy at my heels. Echo followed me upstairs. I mumbled to myself with her behind me.
"You don't have to worry about me stealing your boyfriend. Echo. He couldn't care less whether I stayed or left this place. All he seems to care about is his mother and their business."
As soon as I got to my bedroom. I began to strip off my clothes. Echo stepped into the bathroom to run the tub for me. She signed to me quickly, telling me to hurry up before I got sick.
"I won't get sick," I said. I'm not made of paper and even if I did get sick and die, it wouldn't make all that much difference to anyone."
She didn't understand all that I had said, but she understood enough from my dark expression of unhappiness to look confused. "What's wrong?" she signed.
"What's wrong? What's wrong? Look at me!" I told her.
She tilted her head and shook it to indicate she still didn't understand my outburst. I was standing there in my bra and panties.
"Why should I look at you?" she asked. "What should I see?" She raised her hands.
Of course. I thought, how could she possibly understand the frustrations I felt? She lived like a girl in a plastic bubble. Her only real windows on the world were the novels she read, the little bit of television she watched without hearing a thing, and whatever Mrs. Westington, Trevor. or Tyler told her. None of them could tell her about a young girl's disappointments in herself and in the people she trusted. She had yet to understand her own
disappointments, especially the full meaning of what her own mother had done to her.
She stood there looking so unaware, so innocent, so lost to reality. I thought, I should be giving her lessons in real life whenever I could.
"Take off your clothes," I ordered, "Go on, do it."
She stared at me, looked at the bath, and then shrugged and began to undress. When she was down to her panties. I took her hand and pulled her abruptly next to me. Standing side by side, we looked at ourselves in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. There I was with my tree trunk thighs and no waist standing in contrast to this beautifully developing young girl with curves and soft places I dreamed of being. We could be models for a before and after advertisement.
"See?" I signed, and seized the roll of fat around my waist and patted my bulging belly. "Sec?"
She still looked confused. I put my hand on her waist and on her belly. I pointed at her budding, perky breasts. "You're already pretty," I told her. "I'll never be."
She insisted I would and I told her not to worry about me.
"Just worry about yourself. I'm not worth anyone worrying over." She looked like she was going to cry. "It's all right. It's okay." I signed. "I don't care anymore."
I really didn't care anymore. I took off my bra and panties and stepped into the hot tub. She came over and spilled in some bubbly bath powder. I lowered myself into the water, tempted to just keep going until my head was underneath so I could keep it there and end my agony. Echo stepped around the tub, took a washcloth, and began to wash the back of my neck and my back for me. Despite my desire to feel bad and suffer, it did feel good. The hot bath, the delicate scent of the bath powder, and her soft touch relaxed me.
"I'm sorry I'm being so miserable," I muttered with my back to her. "but I can't help it. The love of your life kissed me last night. He did a little more and I thought maybe I could have a boyfriend, but he opened his eyes and I guess what he saw disgusted him so much he ran for his life. He's probably had nightmares about it and is trying to forget that it ever really happened.'
She heard nothing, of course. She washed down my shoulders. I closed my eyes and sat forward. She was doing a good job of massaging my neck. I continued to relax and just drift. I remembered when I was a little girl. I used to do this for my mother. She would moan with exaggerated pleasure. I was so serious, concerned I would miss a spot on her back or her neck. Why can't I return to that? Why can't I be a little girl forever and ever and not worry about being pretty or too fat and never finding love?
If only there was this time machine that you could activate when you were absolutely positive you were the happiest you could be and your family was the happiest they could be. You would push a button and time would stand still, freeze forever and ever. Na one would grow older and nothing would ever change.
Other girls my age were probably fantasizing about boys or becoming movie stars or sinning stars, but here I was fantasizing about being a little girl again. Something's very wrong with me. I thought. I'm a lost cause and I'm not even a lost cause for anyone else. There was no one else. I'm a lost cause for myself.
I lowered my head to my hands.
Echo leaned in to dip the washcloth into the bath water, and when she did, her breasts grazed over my back. A myriad of sexual imagery flowed over my eyes-- Celia caressing me and bringing her lips to my neck. Peter Smoke's kiss and touch. Uncle Palaver, naked beside his naked Destiny. Tyler lowering my costume and touching my nipples. I moaned, longing for the warmth of a loving embrace, anyone's loving embrace.
I reached up and held Echo's hand for a moment. She remained leaning over me. confused. I was sure. I was about to bring it to my lips, to run her hand over my cheeks.
"What in blazes is that girl doing?" I heard Mrs. Westington say. I let go of Echo's hand quickly and looked up to see Mrs. Westington standing in the bathroom doorway, a cup of piping hot herbal tea in her hands. She signed at Echo, asking her why she was almost naked.
"She just didn't want to get her clothing wet." I said quickly.
"Get your clothes on!" she ordered Echo. She put down the teacup and tapped her cane. She signed as well, saving, "Get dressed."
Echo moved quickly to her clothing. Mrs. Westington watched her and shook her head.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't ask her to wash my back. She wanted to do it." That wasn't a lie, I thought. It just wasn't the whole truth.
"That child has no modesty. Never did. She used to run around naked when she was five and six and even seven. I'd find she took off her clothes because this itched her or that bothered her. Just lucky we live out here with only a few birds and rabbits.
People would think I was raising a wild animal. Anyway, I have some tea and honey here for vou. Drink it before it gets too cool," she told me, and handed the cup to me.
"Thank you," I said.
Echo stood by looking remorseful.
"Go on," Mrs, Westington told her, and waved her hand at the door. She signed and spoke. "Leave April to finish her bath, get dressed and into bed before she gets sick." She punctuated it with another tap of her cane.
Echo glanced at me and with her head down, left the room. I felt sorry for her. It was my fault. I couldn't move a foot right or a foot left without causing someone trouble.
"I swear," Mrs. Westington said, looking down at me sitting in the tub. "the older I get, the more I'm amazed at the things people do to themselves. You don't know enough to come in out of the cold rain. I swear.'
How was I going to explain it? I sipped the tea instead and looked down, afraid now that she would say_ , "You're too much trouble. You should leave."
She said nothing more. however. She left me sipping the tea as I sat in the tub. After a few more minutes. I put it down, stepped out of the water, and dried myself quickly. I wasn't getting sick. but I felt tired and emotionally drained. I shouldn't have done what I had done with Echo. I thought. There was no
reason to make her feel bad about my own problems. Perhaps I wouldn't be as good for her as Mrs. Westington had hoped I would be. Tyler was right. I'm not a proper companion. Maybe I really should be out of here as soon as possible. Even if I was afraid of living with Brenda again. I had little other choice but to leave. I belonged nowhere. That's why I was so content traveling from place to place with Uncle Palaver. Home was wherever we were that moment. We were two lost souls, drifting so that we didn't stay in one place long enough to see what other people had and then feel sorry for ourselves.
I crawled into bed. wishing I was crawling into my own coffin. I'd reach up and close the lid on myself. When I finally fell asleep, the darkness in my heart was as deep as the darkness outside.
Hours later. I was woken by the movement of the mattress and the lifting of my blanket. For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming or perhaps one of the loving dead souls, perhaps my parents, had come to me to reassure me, but when I turned. I realized it was Echo crawling into my bed to lie beside me. I quickly sat up and turned on the lamp on the night table.
"What's wrong?" I asked, seeing the terrible twisted expression on her face.
"I had a bad dream," she signed back. She then put both her hands side by side, the fingers together, facing her heart, opening and closing them quickly over her heart. With the expression on her face. I remembered that meant she was frightened. She continued the sign until I put my hand out to stop her.
I looked at my door. Had Mrs. Westington heard her come into my room? Would she burst in on us at any moment, confused and upset? I thought I should quickly tell Echo to return to her own bed before we were both in trouble, but one more look at her face told me I couldn't just throw her out. She did look terrified.
"What was your dream?" I asked.
She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. but I could feel her trembling still. I wondered if she had ever crawled in beside Mrs. Westington after she had a bad dream. I couldn't imagine it. Mrs. Westington was too afraid to show affection. She didn't even like me catching her looking at Echo and smiling to herself. How alone and frightened Echo must have been all her young life to never have anyone to comfort her. How many, many times I recalled snuggling up beside my own mother or between her and my father when I was little. At least I always had that.
What was I going to tell her now? That it wasn't right for her to be in my bed? How would she understand that, and why wasn't it right for her to do it anyway? Didn't girlfriends sleep together in one or the other's bed? I was never close enough with any of my school friends to be invited over and do so. but I knew others did.
"Okay." I told her. 'You can stay with me, but you have to go back to your room as soon as it's morning."
She nodded and cuddled closer, putting her arm over my waist and bringing her head to my pillow. I kept my back to her. Many mornings I had looked in on Brenda and Celia and seen them so entwined, still asleep, clinging to each other as if their nights were free falls through the darkness. Sometimes. Celia's lips were still touching Brenda's neck, Her mouth was slightly open with her lips looking as if they were caught forever in an endless kiss. I had never been that close to my sister and I couldn't help but be jealous.
I could feel Echo's body soften and relax in the comfort of being beside me. I lay there with my eyes open, intrigued with the way my own body was reacting to the feel of her breasts against my back, her leg touching mine, her breath on my neck. She moaned almost as soon as she fell asleep and then drew herself even closer to me. My body tingled and a wave of warm, erotic excitement traveled up my legs and settled in the pocket of my sex. It frightened and yet intrigued me. Should I be having these feelings? Do all girls who sleep together experience them? Does it mean anything?
I tried to move away from her, but she held on firmly in her sleep. Images in a slow, syrupy way began to flow under my closed eyelids. I felt Tyler's fingers on my nipples again. I saw myself beside Echo gazing in the mirror at our bodies. The excitement began to grow stronger inside me. This wasn't the first time I had experienced this, but with Echo beside me. I was embarrassed by my own oncoming sexual crescendo. I tried to hold my breath, to slow my heart, to think of something else, but it was relentless, my heart now like a parade drum pounding a march to accompany the promenade of sexual images. She had pressed herself closer to me and when she moved. I suddenly thought she might be having an erotic experience as well.
What about that? I wondered, She was old enough now. She had her period. She read about people being in love. She surely had sexual fantasies about Tyler. Although she had wanted to talk about all this. I had been avoiding it. How could I. with my little experience, give her any sensible advice anyway? I was still unsure about myself.
Many times I was tempted to ask Brenda how she first knew she was a lesbian. When she found herself attracted to another woman, did she know if she was bisexual or simply attracted to a friend? Did she know what she was from a very early age? I knew she never had a conversation about it with our mother and certainly not with our father. Was there someone with whom she would have such a discussion? I couldn't remember anyone with whom Brenda was that close. She certainly wasn't close to any other relative. Maybe she had formal discussions with the school nurse.
After I had discovered what she was and whom she loved, I read about lesbianism whenever I could. I knew that some women, just like some men, didn't discover these things about themselves until they were in their forties or fifties, and all that time, they had been living heterosexual lives. Some were even married. What a shocking revelation that must have been for their partners! Could such a thing happen to me? Would I find some young man. think I was in love, marry him, and then discover I was just like Brenda? What if I had children? What happens then? Do they hate me, find themselves embarrassed at the sight or the mere mention of me? What sort of fate was that?
Right now. I wasn't really worried about such an event, of course I didn't think I'd ever have a partner, male or female. The only one who would be shocked by my discoveries about myself would be me.
All these thoughts and feelings blossomed out of Echo's merely coming to my bed to get some comfort. She was years younger emotionally than her chronological age. She was like an eight-year-old when it came to something like this. But even adults get terrible nightmares and reach for someone in the night to reassure them. Mama once told me even Daddy had stunning nightmares and looked for the comfort of her embrace.
"We're all children at heart in one way or another." She explained when she had to reassure me after a terrible dream. "Don't be ashamed."
Ashamed? It was far too late for that. My nights are going to be filled with endless nightmares. I thought, and I'd have no one to embrace but myself. Maybe that was why I couldn't help enjoying the fact that Echo had come to me for such comfort, despite the way I was reacting to her body pressed against mine. It was all pure and good, truly innocent, wasn't it?
Pull yourself away and end it, a voice inside me urged. You're not capable of innocence.
Relax, another voice persuaded. Let it come and let it pass. Don't deny yourself any pleasure. Fate certainly doesn't deny you any pain.
I'm not sure Echo was aware of what happened to me next, but once again I couldn't stop myself. When it was over. I held my breath and listened to see if she had awoken. She was still breathing softly, regularly. I curled my body tighter and squeezed the pillow against my face so firmly. I almost smothered myself. All I wanted to do was sleep and forget, drive these troubling thoughts and questions into the darkness. For so many of us, sleep is truly a mercy. Finally, it was granted to me.
I woke when I felt a hand on my forehead. Mrs. Westington was standing there looking at me. The first thing I thought was she has found Echo in my bed with me and is very angy, but when I turned and looked. I discovered Echo was gone. I stared at the empty place beside me. Was she here or did I fantasize it? Neither answer would make me feel any better. I thought.
&n
bsp; "Well, you don't feel like you have any fever," Mrs. Westington said "How are you feeling, dear? I worried about you all night."
"I'm okay," I said. "Thank you.
"I can't imagine you running in that weather, especially wearing what you were wearing. Well, you're lucky. No sore throat?"
"No."
"That's good. You be more careful from now on. Young people think they're immortal. Take a letter. The Grim Reaper enjoys collecting the souls of children the most. But no more dark talk," she quickly vowed. "Since you're fine, we'll go ahead with our plans to go shopping. Right after breakfast. Trevor will drive us in the old station wagon." she said. "He's up early this morning cleaning it out. It's filthy from his silly vineyard. We'll go to one of those malls," she continued. "I want you to help me pick out some new clothing for Echo. She's growing out of everything, and it's long overdue she get herself a couple of bras. I realized that last night. She needs some new shoes. too. Can you do that?"
"Of course. I'd be happy to help,' I said. "Not that I'm any sort of expert when it comes to clothing."
"None of you young people are that. What children wear these days would make Casanova blush. Torn jeans, blouses you can see right through, panties that are no bigger than rubber bands, rings in belly buttons and noses. I don't want her in any of that," she said. "We'll go to good stores,"
"Okay," I said. but I didn't know what she meant by good stores. She had probably not done too much shopping recently. She's sure to be shocked by what's in fashion. I thought.
She looked at me. "You sure you're feeling okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine." I couldn't help wondering about Echo. Was she still upset. afraid?
"You look down in the dumps this morning. I want you to pick out something nice for yourself, too, when we get to the mall. Some pretty new dress or blouse and skirt, maybe, and new shoes, as well," she said.
"You don't need to do that for me. Mrs. Westington. You've done enough."