And then I thought about Uncle Palaver out there on the highways of America, driving at his own pace, accepting this date or that if he wished, or not accepting any and just drifting, or parking by a beautiful scenic area and just taking in nature. Suddenly, despite all that Daddy had said about him, I envied him. Time was truly a stream for Uncle Palaver, and vet he was an adult in an adult world. He had to pay taxes and bills and worry about health insurance and all that, but maybe being able to hold on to part of Thoreau's dream was Uncle Palaver's greatest magical achievement.
For Mama, time appeared to have come to a standstill. She, too, lost interest in dates, schedules, obligations, and calendars. She was adrift in a different way, sort of in limbo. The days could come: the days could go. It didn't matter to her. She forgot her own birthday, in fact, and was genuinely surprised to receive gifts from Brenda and me.
I was told by more than one sympathetic mourner that time had healing qualities. Every tick of the clock was supposed to be another step away from the sadness, and soon it would take us so far that we would no longer cry or suffer such great sorrow. However, it wasn't working that way for Mama. She refused to accept tomorrow. She refused to forget. For her, the clock had stopped,
I wrote often to Brenda, and whenever I could. I spoke to her on the telephone about my concerns for Mama. Brenda had opted to attend Thompson University in Memphis because it had such a wellorganized and impressive female athletic department. It was a small college with only a little more than a thousand students, but its record on the basketball and volleyball courts, as well as women's field hockey, was impressive thanks to its recruiting. One of its graduates. Mona LePage, did get chosen for the women's Olympic volleyball team, and the school was very proud of her.
Since the college was in Memphis, most of the students commuted, but there was a small, twohundred-population women's dormito
ry on the campus. and Brenda shared a room with a girl three years ahead of her. Celia Harding. Apparently, they had met at Brenda's registration and had hit it off so well so quickly that they decided to be roommates. In all her letters and phone calls. Brenda praised and raved about Celia Harding. In fact, she talked so much about her I couldn't help but be jealous. I was surprised, too, when she told me she was bringing Celia home to spend Thanksgiving with us.
First. I thought it was too soon to have an overnight guest, and second. I was afraid Mama wasn't strong enough to entertain a stranger, but Brenda had already discussed it with Mama, and Mama had agreed and even sounded a little excited about it. I relented and admitted to myself that it could be a good thing. It would take Mama's mind off the sadness and give her reason to do a full-blown Thanksgiving dinner. In my heart of hearts, I hoped and prayed that somehow Uncle Palaver would show up as well. He had been at our home only once for Thanksgiving, and I was just five years old at the time and barely remembered.
He called more often now. Mama would get all choked up on the phone, and I would take over and talk to him and hear about his adventurous life on the road. I kept prodding him about Thanksgiving. I didn't want to come right out and say Mama needed him or I needed him, but I came as close to doing that as I could. For a while, I did think he would come, but two weeks before Thanksgiving, he called to tell us about a wonderful opportunity he was given if he went to California. He was going to be featured on more than a dozen regional television shows, and his manager thought it could be just the break he needed to get onto a national television stage of one sort or another.
There were so many talented entertainers out there trying for the big breaks, and so many really deserved one. The competition was fierce, and opportunities like the one presented to Uncle Palaver so rare.
"It would be cruel and unfair to Warner to pressure him to come back here for Thanksgiving and miss his chances. April." Mama told me when I whined a little too much about it. "He has worked too long and too hard."
Of course, she was right, so I stopped talking about him, and when he called again. I wished him luck. He promised to have a copy of one of the television appearances sent to us on video tape.
"Maybe I'll be there for Christmas." he offered. but I did recall him mentioning the possibility of his being hired to do a ten-day cruise out of Los Angeles and down to what was called the Mexican Riviera over Christmas and New Year's Eve. I didn't ask him. but I wondered if all of these bookings included Destiny as well. I imagined if she was part of his act, she would accompany him. Besides. I was sure he would want to be with her on New Year's Eve.
Just the thought of spending a New Year's Eve after Daddy's death was terrifying to me. Mama would be so lost. I thought. Maybe I could talk her into our going away, too, I decided. I tried, and she said she would think about it, but I knew it didn't go longer than a few seconds in her mind before floating away and disappearing like smoke.
The day before Brenda was to arrive with Celia. Mama showed some of her old energy. She changed the curtains in the West room and bought a new area rug to put next to the bed. That,afternoon, she decided the bedding now didn't fit the decor and, almost in a panic about it, had me go with her to buy new bedding. There wasn't a spot in the guest room she didn't polish. She washed down the bathroom as if she were out to prevent some sort of infectious disease. I kept asking her to slow down, to rest, but she told me she was fine.
She was still in there diddling about with one thing or another in the evening until she finally decided it was good enough and went to bed. The next morning, she was up before I was and working on the Thanksgiving dinner. She had me do all sorts of cleaning up around the house. I told her I had already vacuumed the living room, but she didn't remember, and she didn't believe it was good enough even if I had done it.
"We'll be exhausted by the time Brenda and her roommate arrive. Mama." I protested. "What good will that be?"
"Stop exaggerating," she told me, and had me wash the windows by the front door.
"Who's coming, the queen of England?" I muttered. She overheard me.
"Your father and I always treat our guests like royalty," she said. "We're old-fashioned that way."
I turned and looked at her. She was smiling, but it was different. That, plus the use of the present tense in relation to Daddy, sounded a small alarm in my heart. Later, it sounded again when I looked in at the dining room table and saw there was one more place setting than we needed.
"Mama," I said softly, entering the kitchen and coming up behind her while she prepared her sweet potato pie, "you put out too many plates."
"What?" she said, turning and grimacing with confusion. "What are you saying?"
"There are only four of us for dinner, not five, unless you invited someone else without telling me."
"Oh,' she said. "I put out five?"
"Yes, Mama."
She shook her head. "Old habits die hard." she said, and returned to her sweet potato pie.
"I'll fix it," I told her.
She didn't reply, but I went into the dining room and rearranged it all. I left the place at the seat that Daddy always occupied empty, just as we had been doing since the day he left. Too many times. I had caught Mama looking at that empty place. Sometimes, she seemed to be seeing him there. I wouldn't say anything. I would pretend not to notice.
To keep my mind off it all the day Brenda and Celia were to arrive. I went into the living room and began reading my English novel assignment. I gazed at the clock from time to time in anticipation. Brenda had told us that she and Celia were meeting with some of their friends first to celebrate a bit and then heading to our house. They were supposed to arrive at one.
Mama was baking two pies, an apple and a pumpkin. Those had been Daddy's favorites, especially on Thanksgiving, and twice this morning, she had told me that.