“It’s already got sugar, Bernie. It’s coated with sugar. You don’t need any more. It’s bad for your teeth.”
“I do need some more.” She couldn’t afford to have him upset, so she put on a scant teaspoonful from the sugar jar.
“Spoiled as last year’s apples, that boy,” the old woman muttered. Angel ignored her.
If Bernie was spoiled, it was probably all her fault. She wanted him to be happy, that was all. He got unhappy so quickly. She poured herself a bowl of the pink sugared balls, remembering to put the milk away in the fridge before sitting down across from Bernie. He wasn’t eating.
“Yuck,” he said. “It tastes terrible.”
“Do you want beans, then?” She kept her tone low but fierce.
He shook his head and bent over the bowl.
Whatever was she going to do with him? With herself, for that matter? It wasn’t fair. What could Verna be thinking of, leaving her and Bernie here? She forced herself to chew the too-sweet soggy blobs. The cereal smelled like perfume. She wanted to stop eating it, but whenever she started to put down the spoon, she could feel Bernie watching her. Finally, she whispered across the table to him, “It’s all there is right now, Bernie. I know Mama will bring you some Sugar Pops when she comes back.”
He squinched his face into a hard little knot.
“Try to be good,” she pleaded softly. “Ple-e-eeze.”
He didn’t say anything, but to her relief, he took another bite of the terrible cereal.
When they finished, or almost finished, they’d both left a half-dozen sodden lumps swimming in the now pink milk at the bottom of the bowl. Angel stood up and said loudly, “I’ll just rinse these out, all right, Bernie? Then you and me can go outside and play for a while.”
He looked at her in a puzzled way but didn’t speak. Instead, he reached over and dragged the bear to himself. The right thumb went into his mouth. She gave her head a little shake, but he was not to be denied this comfort.
“How old are you, boy?” Grandma’s sharp voice exclaimed. “I never saw such a big boy with his thumb jammed down his throat.”
Angel moved more quickly to the sink. She poured the rest of the pink milk into it without bothering to strain out the lumps. Quickly rinsing the bowls, she put them face-down on the counter beside the sink. “Okay, Bernie. Ready to go out?”
“I’m still in my jammies.”
She started to say that in the country it didn’t matter if he was in his birthday suit, but she thought better of it. “Okay. Upstairs, then.”
He was no help as she tried to get his pajamas off and urge him into his clothes. He insisted on holding on to the bear, and she had to yank it from his grasp before she could get his pajama sleeve off. Putting on his T-shirt was impossible.
“Want a new T-shirt?” she asked.
“No.”
“Okay. I was going to give you my genuine Disney World Goofy T-shirt, but since you don’t...”
“Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll take it.”
She got the shirt out of her suitcase. “You don’t get it unless you put Grizz
le down long enough for me to put it on you.”
“Okay,” he said, as though angry that he had to do this huge favor for her. He threw the bear on the floor.
“You keep dropping Grizzle on the floor and he might just run away from home.” It was out of her mouth before she thought. She could see his face cloud up, and then he began to cry. Not loud, like a tantrum, but little sucking, sobbing sounds as though his heart would break.
“I told you, Bernie,” Angel said, kneeling beside him, putting her arms around him and pulling him close. “I told you, she’s just gone for a little while. She’ll be back soon.”
“No, she won’t,” he blubbered into the T-shirt. “She’s run away and she’s never coming back. Never. Never. Never.” He gulped and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “And it’s all my fault, ’cause I was bad.”
“She is coming back, Bernie. I promise. And you weren’t bad.”
“I was. I was. I was. I wanted a milk shake. She promised me a milk shake. That’s why I was so bad. She promised.”