The Same Stuff as Stars

“Hold on a minute, please. I’ll check.”

“What she say? What she say?” Grandma was on her feet, wild-eyed, her head shaking.

“Shh. She’s checking.”

“Phht.” Grandma made a funny sound with her lips. “Who is this?” the secretary demanded.

Angel kept still.

“I’m asking because, according to the sign-out sheet, Mrs. Verna Morgan came by at twelve thirteen P.M. and picked Bernie Morgan up. It says here ‘Doctor’s appointment in Burlington.’”

FIFTEEN

Polaris

Grandma fell back into her rocker as though someone had smacked her in the face. “Doctor’s appointment, my stuffed cabbage.”

What was Verna doing? “Kidnapping! She kidnapped her own kid!” Angel was walking back and forth. She banged into a chair, sending it crashing to the floor, and didn’t bother to pick it up. “She kidnapped Bernie! She didn’t want me to know she was taking him. She didn’t even come to get his clothes! I would have given him Grizzle. I would have.” The tears were coming so hard now that she couldn’t see where she was going, and she hit her hip against the edge of the table. She welcomed the pain. It gave her an excuse to cry all the more. What she didn’t say—couldn’t say out loud—was, Why just Bernie? Why did she take Bernie and leave me behind? Doesn’t she love me, too? Oh, Mama, I need you, too.

“Sit down, Angel, before you break something past fixing.”

She was suddenly ashamed. She went over and picked up the chair. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean the danged chair. I mean you. Come here.”

She went over to the rocker. Grandma had her skinny little arms out. “Here, in my lap, baby.”

Even though she was almost bigger than the old woman, Angel sat down on the bony lap. The arms felt like sticks around her shoulders, but it didn’t matter. She let go against them. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever sat on anyone’s lap and felt herself held and rocked.

“That Verna is a first-class bitch.”

“No,” Angel felt obliged to defend her mother. “That isn’t it. She—she probably doesn’t have enough money to take care of two kids, and Bernie’s the baby. He needs her more than me.”

Grandma snorted. Angel could feel the vibration of it through her ribs. “You’re more of a mother to that boy than Verna ever was.” It was like something Verna herself had said. But Verna must have forgotten who it was that really took care of Bernie.

Maybe she’d changed. Maybe now she would remember to

make him eat all five food groups and wear his hat when it was cold outside and—Angel began to cry again, but softly this time.

“There, there,” Grandma patted her. “I didn’t mean to get you all roiled up. She’ll probably bring him back by tomorrow. Ain’t just anybody knows how to handle that little pricker bush.”

Angel stood up. She needed a tissue badly, and although she liked the thought of Grandma’s lap, it was about as comfortable as cuddling with kindling. She went into the bathroom and got some toilet paper to blow her nose, not daring to look at herself in the streaky mirror. She knew she was a mess. “Grandma,” she called from the doorway. “How about I make us some tea?”

“Well, that sounds downright civilized.”

After the tea, even though it was still afternoon, Angel made supper for the two of them. They didn’t talk much. They tried not to look at the place where Bernie should have been sitting. Grandma even ate her broccoli without complaining. Angel started to say something about it, but she could feel the tears start as she formed the sentence in her mind, and kept quiet. She washed the dishes and left them to dry beside the sink.

“I think I’ll do my homework upstairs and then go on to bed,” she said.

Grandma nodded from the rocker. Trying to be a comfort seemed to have worn her out.

Angel lay on her stomach under the bare bulb and opened Know the Stars. It was a page she’d read so often she could almost recite it.

Polaris (stress on LAR) is the only star that never changes its place in the sky, at least not so that you can notice it. It always stays put while the other stars and constellations are moving....

That was what she needed—a Polaris, a North Star, that never moved. Something steady so that she could always find her way. But what about Bernie? She’d been his Polaris, hadn’t she? When everything else had changed, at least he’d had her. Now he had Verna, who switched around faster than a whirling planet. She wished she knew how to pray. She wanted to pray for Bernie, for Verna, even for Wayne.

Wayne. He was her daddy. He never would have run off with Bernie and left her behind like Verna had. It wasn’t his fault the police had thrown him in jail. He didn’t even do it, whatever it was they said he did. He’d never even smacked her when she was little. He’d bought her Grizzle and given her her name, Angel. Did a man who named his baby girl Angel sound like somebody who would go off and commit a crime?