"What I don't need is for someone to tell me what I need and don't need to do." she retorted, pulling her shoulders up. 'I got money buried in cans all over this place. If I don't spend it. I'll forget where it is."
"No, you won't," I said. laughing.
"Now, that's better. A smile puts sunshine into your face. Plant one there and happiness will bloom.'
"Okay, Mrs. Westington," I said. If someone as old as she was with what she's been through could still be jolly. I had no right to sing the blues in her home. I thought.
"Well now, get dressed," she said. "You can bet Echo didn't forget about our shopping excursion. She's already dressed and downstairs,'.
"She is?"
"She's out there helping Trevor clean up the station wagon, in fact."
Up and dressed? I thought. When did she leave my room? Did I really imagine it all?
I got out of bed, washed and dressed as quickly as I could. When I stepped into the dining room. I found Echo and Trevor seated and eating breakfast. Echo looked up at me and smiled, signing about our trip and telling me we were going to have lunch in a restaurant. I looked at Trevor and at Mrs. Westington. I wanted to ask Echo about her having a nightmare and coming to my bed. but I was afraid to do so in front of them. When we're alone I'll ask her. I thought, and left it at that.
Echo's excitement recalled my memories of my trips with my parents and Brenda when I was much younger. At fifteen I was already hanging out in malls and making trips on my own, of course, but before that, every family excursion was an adventure, a holiday, no matter how short.
After Echo and I helped clear the table and do the breakfast dishes, we got into the station wagon. Her excitement was so infectious she made me feel like it was my first trip away from home as well. Because of her confinement at the vineyard. Echo's face was filled with wonder at almost everything she saw. It brought home Tyler's concern that she be permitted to go to a school where she would be with other kids her age and have most of the experiences a zirl her age should have. She had a thirst for Imowledge, for information, and was moving quickly ahead in her schoolwork, but she was, as Tyler described, socially retarded.
"You stay close to April," Mrs. Westington warned her when we reached the mall. 'Don't you go wandering off. She could do that," she told me. She gets fascinated with something and forgets where she is."
"She needs to be out and about more. Mrs. Westington," I said gently. "She's too old to be on any sort of leash."
"Yes, well, that's what we'll do now, now that you're here with us." she told me.
But I won't be all that much longer. I thought to myself. I didn't like reminding her. but I could see that I had to leave soon. Brenda would be coming home and making plans for us, for me. I had to get on with my life, whatever life that would be.
At the mall I helped pick out some new clothes for Echo, clothing I knew was in style for girls her age. As I anticipated. Mrs. Westington was critical of almost everything, but reluctantly relented when she saw how pleased Echo was with the selections. We bought her bras and new panties, socks and new nightgowns as well. While we shopped. Trevor went off to get himself some things in the hardware store he said he needed.
At Mrs Westington's continued insistence. I finally relented and chose a new black skirt and a blouse. I hated having to buy anything in the sizes I needed now but I remembered Brenda once saying to wear black because it hides your weight the best. It had been a long time since I had bought anything for myself, actually. The last time was just before my mother had died and my mother never admitted to me or perhaps even to herself that I was a little tank. She hated when I chose things in black.
Echo's attention went from the clothing to the kids moving through the mall. She was fascinated by both the girls and the boys and asked me questions continually about them. How old were they? What did they do in the mall? Do they all know each other? We saw them in the music stores listening to their favorite artists on earphones. Of course. Echo wanted to know what they were doing and I explained that supposedly that was how they decided whether or not to buy an album.
"Most just go there to hang out and listen and don't even buy anything," I told her.
She looked at them again, watching how they shared what they heard, and for a moment I thought of a poor homeless girl standing outside a restaurant gazing in at people enjoying wonderful dinners. It was a world she wasn't to know, but a world she envied. I felt so sorry for her and for a while. I stopped feeling so sorry for myself. After all. I could fix my problems. She couldn't. She could only learn how to live with hers.
Suddenly, surprising us both. Tyler Monahan stepped around a large display in the music store. Echo's face lit up. Mrs. Westington didn't notice him because she had met another elderly lady whom she knew and they were having a long catch up
conversation.
Tyler turned in our direction. The first question that came to my mind was how could he be here? I thought he was desperately needed at his mother's retail outlet on weekends. There was no doubt in my mind that he had seen us, but he didn't wave or smile or walk toward us. He turned instead and hurriedly headed out of the store. Echo panicked at the realization he was not going to greet us. As clearly as she could pronounce it, she shouted his name.
I knew he had heard. Other people near him had turned in our direction, but he kept walking away. Echo looked at me with desperation.
"We'll be right back. Mrs. Westington," I called to her. She glanced at us, but her friend kept talking,
"Don't get lost!" she cried.
I took Echo's hand and we started after Tyler. He was walking very quickly and not looking back. I started to shout for him again when he stopped at a woman's shoe store just as an Asian woman stepped out. I stopped walking. He spoke with her and she turned our way.
His mother was a good three to four inches shorter than he was. She had her hair cut stylishly short and she wore what looked to me to be an elegant light blue desimer suit. We were too far away to see much more detail, but I was sure. I saw her shake her head slightly. She then turned abruptly in the opposite direction. Tyler glanced back at us. I thought he was finally going to acknowledge us and greet us, but his mother called to him and he spun around quickly and hurried to join her.
"Ty!" Echo shouted.
They rounded the corner and were gone. Echo looked at me, her face full of confusion.
"He must have had to get right back to his store," I signed and spoke. I didn't do all that good a job of signing the ideas, but she understood enough.
She looked after him again. How cruel. I thought, no matter what he thought of me or what his reasons could be. He couldn't help but see how excited Echo was at the sight of him. Even if he really did have to get back to their business, why wouldn't he take a few minutes out to explain that at least? What, did his mother have a leash around his neck or something? It made me furious.
This is all going to end badly, I thought. I just have to have a heart to heart conversation with Mrs. Westington. I turned Echo around, but she kept looking back hopefully as we returned to the part of the mall where her grandmother had been talking to an old friend. Trevor Washington had already joined her when we arrived.
"Where did you two go?" she asked.
I glanced at Trevor, hoping he hadn't seen us, and then I told her I just wanted to show Echo the Nature store.
"Oh, well maybe we should go there and get her something," she suggested.
"Actually, we're both hungry," I claimed.
"Oh?" She looked at Echo. I knew she could see the unhappiness in her face. I had been with her a short time and already I knew how to read her moods and feelings. Mrs. Westington looked at me as well. I'm not good at lying or covering things up either. I thought. She knew it, but she played along.
"Okay, let's go have something to eat," she said.
We went to a restaurant in the mall. I ordered a salad. Echo was still upset about Tyler, but the excitement of eating in a rest
aurant overtook that for the moment. She wanted a cheeseburger and a Coke, which was something she never had at the house, of course. Afterward, we bought her a chocolate frozen yogurt. I could see that if I didn't order one as well, she'd be upset. so I did, but when neither of them were looking. I dumped it in a garbage can. Buying myself new clothes reinforced my determination to diet. I'm going to shed pounds. I vowed. I didn't need Brenda on my back or Tyler Monahan's attention to get me to do it. either.
Laden down with packages and bags, we returned to the station wagon,
"You wanna drive?" Trevor asked me. It took me by surprise, but I could see Echo thought it was amusing and even exciting. I looked at Mrs. Westington.
"The man's getting lazy," she said, glaring at him. "Just don't go speeding," she warned.
As we headed home, our route took us through Healdsburg and we went by what Trevor told me was Tyler Monahan's retail outlet. I slowed down, tempted to pull over and have us all go in. He couldn't ignore us then. I thought.
"Maybe we should stop by and say hello," I suggested. "I'd like to see their store."
"It's nothing," Mrs. Westington said quickly. "It's just another shop with overly priced things for tourists. Ed never buy anything there."
I drove on, glancing in the rearview mirror at Echo, who sat staring out. How confusing the world was to her, trapped in silences she couldn't
understand. We who could hear and hear well had difficulty with silences as it was. No matter how well I could sign, no matter how well she could read my lips, there were so many things lost between us. Interpret Tyler
Monahan's look and silence for her? I couldn't do it for myself.
I knew when we arrived home. Mrs.
Westington would interrogate me about Echo's sadness, but as it turned out, she didn't have a chance. There was another surprise awaiting her, awaiting us all.
When we turned up the driveway, we saw an old van that looked like it had been tie-dyed, a leftover from the sixties flower people days. One of the rear lights was battered and broken. The bumper was tied on with wires and the rear windows were so caked and clouded with dirt and grime, no one could possibly look out of them.
"Who's this now?" Mrs. Westington asked as we pulled alongside the van.
There was no one standing outside and from what we could see, no one in the van.
"I hope it's not someone coming to sample wine or buy one of your cases." she told Trevor. "Word gets out there's a restricted amount of a wine around here and everyone starts inquiring. Nothing sells like hard to get," she remarked.
"I haven't told a new soul about our wine. I just have my regular customers and there's not enough of our wine to expand the sales."
"Not our wine. Your wine. Mr. Vineyard," she told him. He started to laugh.
The sight of the strange van brought some life back into Echo's face. We were all very curious. When we stepped out of the station wagon, we peered into the van and saw what looked like makeshift beds in the rear. The front seat and passenger seat were torn, the stuffing pouring out. There were empty beer bottles scattered about and wrappers from food as well as some clothing. On the dashboard was a paper plate with what looked to be the remnants of a pizza.
"It must be driven by hogs," Mrs. Westington said. She looked about. "Where are these people? Why are they on my property? Maybe we should call the police immediately." she told Trevor.
He nodded and started toward the front steps and then stopped, holding up his hand.
"What?" Mrs. Westington asked.
He turned slowly to us. "The door's been opened. It wasn't closed completely." he said.
"Good grief. we're being burglarized!" Mrs. Westington cried, and pulled Echo to her. "Stay back, girl," she told me. and I retreated a few steps.
Trevor went to the corner of the house and got a thick-handled rake he had there.
"Be careful," Mrs. Westington said. "Maybe we should just drive down to the nearest phone."
"I'm fine," he said. "Stay back."
He walked up the stairs slowly and then carefully opened the door and peered in. listening. When he turned back to us, he looked confused.
"Whoever's in there has the television on," he said in a loud whisper.
"Make themselves at home, why don't they?" Mrs. Westington said.
Trevor held his arm out to remind us to keep back and then he entered the house. We waited, listening, but my thumping heart was so loud in my ears. I didn't think I'd hear a thing. It seemed like minutes but was only seconds.
"Who the hell are you?" we heard him shout. I stepped back. terrified. Mrs. Westington embraced Echo tighter. She was totally confused and as frightened as I was. We heard a man's voice and then Trevor cried. "Well, I'll be damned!"
A few moments later, he appeared in the doorway. Before he could say a word, a woman wearing a red, white, and blue bandanna came out from behind him. There was a tattoo of a blue dahlia on her right cheek and a string, of what looked like small seashells around her neck, falling down the valley between her ample breasts. She wore what looked like an Arab woman's black robe. She was barefoot. Her hair was long and stringy, the strands raining down limply over her ears to her neck.
Before she even spoke, I knew who she was. "Hi. Mom," she said.
I guess it's a day for disappointments and nightmares. I thought. Now Mrs. Westington was about to have one of her own.
6 Mama Comes Home
.
"Well, ain't this a pretty kettle of fish," Mrs. Westington said. She glanced at Echo and then relaxed her embrace. "You probably don't remember who that is. Echo. It almost takes a divining rod for me to determine her identity, but that there is your mother or what passes for her," she said.
"Now let's not start out on the wrong foot. Mom," Rhona said.
"We've been on the wrong foot for some time, Rhona. Too late to get off that." Mrs. Westington said.
"Hi, Echo." Rhona said. "I wouldn't have recognized you. You've grown so. Don't you want to give me a kiss and a hug?" She held out her arms.
Echo stared up at her, unmoving, her hand tightly clasping Mrs. Westighton's. Did her own mother forget her daughter was deaf?
A tall, thin man with a grubby beard stepped up beside Rhona. He was wearing a white button down shirt that looked like it had last been washed ten years ago and a pair of torn, ragged jeans with black sandals. His toes were so dirty, it was hard to tell where they were and where the straps of the sandals were. The strands of his dull brown hair resembled broken springs shooting off in every direction. When he smiled, his thin lips practically disappeared, producing a dull slice above his slightly protruding cleft chin. His neck looked like it needed a good scrubbing.
"This is Skeeter." Rhona said, lowering her arms.
"Hi there," he said, saluting quickly at Mrs. Westington. I glanced at her. She looked like she had just swallowed some sour milk. "You have a very nice house and great property. Love this old door. Oak, isn't it?"
"Skeeter? Didn't your parents give you a real name?" she asked.
I laughed to myself. Mrs. Westington wasn't one to hold back her thoughts and criticisms, even when she faced a complete stranger.
"Well, my real name is Sanford Bickers. but I never saw myself as a Sanford."
"Everyone knows him as Skeeter. Mom. No one knows him as Sanford."
"Then you two have something in common. You're both running away from yourselves," Mrs.
"I never knew you to be inhospitable. Ma," Rhona said.
Mrs. Westington looked at her askance.
"You're happy to see me at least, aren't you. Trevor?" Rhona asked him, her voice sweet and syrupy.
Trevor's eyes shifted quickly to Mrs.
Westington and then he looked away.
"All right. Rhona." Mrs. Westington said sharply. "to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit by you and Mr. Skeeter?"
"I've just been through hell. Mom. Skeeter helped me a great deal, I would have thought you would be
a little more considerate since you knew what I've been through," Rhona whined.
"I'm sorry to say it. Rhona, but I doubt very much you're through with hell," Mrs. Westington said. She turned to Echo and me. "Let's get our things inside and up to your rooms, girls," she told me. I signed quickly to Echo, who was just standing there and gaping at Rhona.
"Who is she?' Rhona asked, nodding at me.
"This is April Taylor. She's been helping me with Echo. You can thank her properly later," Mrs.
"Is she staying in my room? I see it's being used."
"Your room? You gave up that room and a lot more years ago, Rhona."
"Well, where are Skeeter and I going to stay?"
"Who says you're staying?" Mrs. Westington retorted, and urged Echo and me to get our things again. I moved quickly, taking it all out of the station wagon. I glanced at Rhona, who had folded her arms petulantly under her breasts and stepped to the side, glaring at her mother. Skeeter kept a small smile on his face. They watched us enter the house and then followed.
"Now listen to me. Mom." Rhona began. "Please."
Ignoring her. Mrs. Westington turned to Trevor and nodded at the living room. "Would you be so kind as to turn that television set off. Trevor? We don't need the noise right now. Seems we have enough static already."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, glanced at Rhona, and then went into the living room to do it.
"Go on up. April. Help Echo put her things away. please.'
"Okay," I said. I looked at Rhona again. Her eyes were inflamed with indignation and resentment and it looked like it was all directed at me, as if I were the cause of all her lifelong problems.
Trevor stepped back into the hallway. "I've got something waiting on me back at the winery." he told Mrs. Westington, nodded at Rhona, and hurried out.
I gestured to Echo for us to go up the stairs.
"Wait a minute." Rhona said, reaching for Echo, who couldn't take her eyes off her. "Don't you want to say hello to your mother. Echo? Give her a proper greeting?"
"You forget the little signing you knew?" Mrs. Westington asked her.
"She knows what I'm saying."