"Oh, yes." I rose and went to the closet. "Here are two," I said, showing him. They belonged to the real Destiny."

"So the doll is exactly her height, weight, measurements. everything?"

"As far as I know. yes." I said.

He stared at her and nodded. Then he looked up at me. "Did you have a costume in the show?"

"I did but my weight went up and down so much that I wore it only when I had lost weight. Now, as you can see, I've gained it all back."

"Let's see the costume you wore.'

I squinted and felt the folds form in my forehead. "It's nothing," I said.

"Come on," he urged. "Don't be bashful,"

I turned to the closet, hung up Destiny's outfits, and took out mine. He rose and took it from my hands to hold up in front of me.

"Doesn't look like you can't fit in it"

"I can't. My bulging waist will show."

It really wasn't much more than an abbreviated one-piece bathing suit in bright colors. The back was open almost below my waist. The bodice had cups that lifted my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and made them look even larger, deepening my cleavage. There were secret pockets where I kept coins and other things used in some of the tricks Uncle Palaver performed.

"Put it on. Let me see."

"No. I'll be embarra.s.sed.'"

"Destiny," he said, turning to the doll. "Should she do it? What do you think? There," he said quickly.

"She nodded."

"Oh, she did not."

"I saw her do it. Go ahead. Put it on."

I thought about it a moment and then walked back into Uncle Palaver's bedroom to change into it. I didn't look great, but I didn't look as bad as I thought I would. When I stepped out, Tyler turned and widened his eves, "You look very good," he said. I was sucking in my stomach. "Turn around."

I did and he whistled.

"My legs look like they belong on a baby elephant."

"They're not that bad. You don't have to lose all that much. April. and I'm not simply trying to make you feel good. You've known me long enough to know I'm brutally honest when I have to be."

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. He stepped up to me, pouring his eves into mine. He brought his lips closer and closer. I was afraid to move, afraid I was dreaming and I would wake up.

His kiss was so soft. I wasn't sure it had even occurred. He put his hands on my waist and gently pulled me into him before he kissed me again, this time holding his lips on mine while he moved his hands up to the straps of my costume and slowly pealed them off my shoulders and down my arm.

Was this really happening? I asked myself. Was I going to let it happen?

He didn't say anything. He stepped back slightly and continued to lower my costume. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s fell free. He stared at me a moment and then he touched my nipples as if he were examining them first. He kissed me again, but he did nothing more. It was as if he wasn't sure what came next or if he should do anything more.

I looked up at him, antic.i.p.ating. He looked like he had just snapped out of a coma.

"I'm sorry," he said, his lips trembling. In fact, his whole face looked like it was in an earthquake.

"I'm sorry. I... I have to get home."

He turned and hurried out of the motor home. I stood frozen and confused, not only at what he had done, but how quickly my own heart had begun to pound and how excited I had become. I wanted him to do more. Why didn't he try? I felt like I was drowning in disappointment.

My eyes fell to Destiny. I didn't remember turning her head my way, but that's the way it was. He must have done it while I was changing. I thought.

I had to sit and get myself calmed down before I took off the costume and put on my clothes. I decided to leave the videotape in the motor home to watch it there, and for now. because I was still trembling and confused. I decided to leave Destiny where she was.

I started back to the house in the darkness, my mind still reeling in confusion. Should I be happy about what had happened? Did my body turn him off finally? Should I be sad? Were the feelings I felt different from the feelings I had felt when Celia had touched me?

How would I ever fall asleep tonight? I paused for a moment and looked to the rear of the house where Trevor Washington had his own private quarters. His television set spilled a glow over the side of the house and onto the small patch of gra.s.s. How lonely his life was, I thought. How was he able to contend with that loneliness? Was his work enough?

It hadn't been for Uncle Palaver. Trevor seemed so contented, accepting. Would I end up like that, alone into my senior years?

Rather than feel elated and excited by what had just occurred between me and Tyler in the motor home. I now felt frightened. I'll be rejected all my life.

I thought. Why was I born?

Mrs. Westington had gone to bed and I imagined Echo was asleep. I stopped by her room and looked in and saw her in her bed, her eyes closed.

Was she dreaming of Tyler? It occurred to me that in the darkness, she was truly alone. She couldn't hear me and she couldn't see me. I could stand by her bed and tell her things she would never know. Despite how terrible I felt about myself. I felt sorrier for her. I stood by her bed and looked down at her sleeping so softly.

"You've never heard the sound of your own name and your own voice," I told her. "It is truly as if you have been locked away in your own body. I'm sorry for you. Echo. I really am."

She continued sleeping and breathing regularly.

"Who's worse off?" I asked her. "You or me?"

I went to my room and prepared for bed. For a while after I had crawled into my bed. I just lay there staring up at the darkness wondering if Mrs.

Westington was right about my parents watching over me from the great beyond. What did they see, feel?

What could they do to help me, if I could do so little, it seemed, to help myself?

We're all disabled in this house. I thought.

Maybe that was why I was so comfortable living here.

why I was so quick to accept Mrs. Westington's invitation. She was cutoff from her only child and struggling with her granddaughter. Echo was so dependent upon everyone around her, in danger of being cut off and left to drift. Trevor worked on a patch of a vineyard to cling to what had given him meaning in his life. His survival was so tightly entwined with those grapes. They would die with him and he would die without them.

And then there was me, a tiny voice trapped in a body it despised. I closed my eyes and dreamed I was a snake anxious to slither out of its skin.

I was tired when I woke up. I knew I had spent the night tossing and turning, twisting out of the grip of one nightmare after another. I barely had the energy to get up and get dressed, much less go for the morning jog I had planned to take daily. If Brenda was here, she'd be shaking her head and muttering about me. I thought. At least. I ate little at breakfast, which displeased Mrs. Westington.

"You're taking this weight thing too far," she said. "A body needs nourishment."

I ate a little more just to satisfy her. She tapped her cane in frustration.

"We don't really need enemies," she said. "We do plenty of damage to ourselves without them, thank you. Take a letter,"

Echo ate slowly, her eyes shifting constantly from her grandmother to me. She's deaf. I thought, but she senses people's moods and feelings with a sensitivity that might be greater than the sensitivity of people who hear.

"Are you all right?" she signed.

I nodded and gave her my best smile, but her eves told me she could see right through it, maybe down to my very dark and lonely soul.

I couldn't help being nervous about Tyler's arrival. He was returning for his final lessons of the week. Weekends, he had told me, were particularly busy in his retail outlet and he had to spend most of the day in the store. They sold more than just the wine sauce they made. There were jams and honey and all sorts of wine-related kitchen and dishware items, as well as souvenirs and books about the valley. He'd revealed that Echo had never been to his store.

When he arrived, he looked at me without any sign in his expression that he felt either good or bad about what had occurred in the motor home. In fact, he didn't act in any way differently from how he had acted previously. It was truly as if nothing had happened between us and it had all been my imagination. He had never come to the motor home. I actually planned on returning to see if the videotape was there so I could confirm it had all not been an invention of my desperate imagination.

He went directly to the a.s.signments. In fact, for most of the day, the only things we discussed were a.s.sociated with the work. I had difficulty with some of the math and he concentrated on it until he was satisfied I understood. At lunch, he began a discussion with Mrs. Westington about Echo's future and he used me to support his points. It was clear to me the time when he was going to leave was drawing closer and closer.

"She's doing fine. Mrs. Westington, but she's not getting a fully rounded education as she would if she were in a cla.s.sroom with other girls and boys her age. April is really the first companion she's had anywhere near her age, but April will be the first to tell you, she should be with more young people.'"

He looked at me and I nodded.

"It's true. Mrs. Westington. She needs to build self-confidence for her social interactions later on in life."

"Everyone's always rushing to grow up in this world today," Mrs. Westington said. "Take a letter.

You young people don't realize what you have when you're young. You're so anxious to get older and take on all those responsibilities. She's got time for all that."

"It's worse to drop someone into the adult world without preparation," Tyler insisted. "She won't know how to meet and greet strangers. She won't-"

"Oh, fiddlesticks," Mrs. Westington said. She became very uncomfortable.

He saw it and stopped talking about it until she left the room. Then he turned to me immediately.

Finally. I thought, finally he's going to talk about what had happened between us. I was waiting for either an apology or an explanation for his running out like that. Instead, he continued to talk about Echo, "Mrs. Westington's not a young woman. If that girl gets left alone in this world, she'll be practically a social invalid. You know what her mother is like.

Even if they find her and tell her what's happened, she'd probably put Echo into an inst.i.tution. Keep working on Mrs. Westington," he said. ''She likes you very much and will listen more to you. perhaps."

I promised I would. I waited for him to talk about us, but he did what he always did when he ended the day's session: he gave Echo something to do that would distract her from his leaving. I followed him out, my arms folded, my head down, my heart thumping so hard. I was sure he could hear it or feel the vibrations that traveled from it, down through my legs and into the floor of the porch itself.

He stepped off the porch, glanced back at me, and headed toward the pond. I hurried after him. It was a cloudy day and it looked like raindrops were hanging at the bellies of the darker clouds, minutes away from dropping. The wind had come up from the west and trees were nodding, the leaves rustling. A ripple moved over the surface of the water.

He paused and turned to me. Finally. finally we were going to have a special, intimate conversation.

"I didn't want to say this in front of Mrs.

Westington, of course. but I think you should let her know that you're not going to stay here indefinitely.

As I told you last night, she'll use you as a reason not to permit Echo from leaving, just as she's used me, and as I stressed last night, my time here is coming to an end soon. Once you pa.s.s your equivalency exam, you'll think about moving on, too, won't you?"

"I guess." I said. Tears were coming into my eyes. How could he simply ignore what had happened, pretend it never had happened? And here was stupid, gullible me actually expecting so much more, expecting him to ask me out on a date.

"You should. You can't have much of a future lingering here unless you want to work beside Trevor Washington in a miniature vineyard."

I became suspicious. Why would any boy ignore what had happened between us?

"You don't have a girlfriend here, do you?"

"No," he said. "Between my work here and all that I have to do at our store and plant. I haven't had much time to socialize since I returned.'"

"Did you have a girlfriend back in Los Angeles? Is she coming here?"

"I had no one special." he said quickly. "We're not talking about me," he added a little sharply.

"We're talking about them and about you." His tone and cutting words were equivalent to a slap in the face.

"You're right," I said. "I might leave soon, sooner than anyone thinks."

"Oh?"

"My sister is returning to the States soon. She's taken a position with a professional basketball team in Seattle," I told him. "I might go back to living with her."

"What about her lover?"

"They're not together anymore."

"Oh." He thought a moment. My response had given him pause. "Well, then that might work out for you."

"I'll see. We're going to meet when she stops in San Francisco."

"Good. Well. I'm happy we had this little talk."

he said. "Stay on that math. It's your weakest area."

He turned toward his car. The first drops began, splashing over my face.

"You'd better hurry up inside. Going to be a downpour!" he called back. He started to run and got into his car.

I stood there, permitting the rain to fall on me.

He beeped his horn and started away. I watched him go and then, perhaps to drive away my disappointment more than lose any weight, I started to run after his car, ignoring the rain and not really being able to tell the difference between it and my own tears anyway.

Maybe. I thought. I should just keep on running. Or maybe. I should go back, pack my things, and leave in my car right now. Our attorney can look after the motor home. Just like Mrs. Westington's daughter. Rhona. I'd disappear like a puff of smoke.

That's all I really was anyway, just a puff of smoke.

Yes. I should leave. I thought.

The only real companion I had was a doll anyway.