The Same Stuff as Stars (3 page)

“'Cause he's our daddy, Bernie. It would just break his heart not to see his family. It's the only thing keeps him going in a place like this. You gotta know someone cares about you, or you just give up.”

“Well, I don't care about him,” Bernie said, pushing the stupid little truck hard into Angel's shin, daring her to ignore the metal bumper cutting into her flesh. “I hope he just gives up.”

“Oh, Bernie, you don't mean that. I know you can't remember. You were only a baby when he left, but he is your daddy. When he comes out...” She moved her leg back a little.

“I hope he never comes out,” said Bernie, attacking her shin once more.

“Quit it, Bernie. That hurts.”

“I know,” he said.

She wrenched the truck out of his hand. “If you can't play nice—”

“Go say goodbye to your daddy.” Verna was standing above them.

“Is it time already?”

“Way past time. You, too, Bernie. Give him a hug.”

Bernie didn't give Wayne a hug, but if saying goodbye meant getting out of there, he was more than glad to obey.

“Bye,” he said and bolted for the door.

“Goodbye, Daddy,” Angel said. She gave Wayne an awkward hug under the eye of a guard who was making sure she wasn't passing anything to him in the process.

“Bye, angel girl,” he said. His face twisted like the face of the little boy she'd scared earlier.

“I'm leaving, Angel.”

“Okay, Mama.” She tried to smile at Wayne. She didn't want him bawling like a kid in the waiting room. She'd seen other men do that, and it was like watching someone take off all their clothes in public.

“Well, that's that,” said Verna when the three of them were back in the truck. “That's the last time you'll ever have to visit this hellhole again.”

“Is he coming home?” Angel asked.

“Nope. He
says
they might let him go out on a work crew, but he says a lot of things.” Verna started the engine and began to back out of the slot. They were past the outside gates and on the road to the apartment before she spoke again. “Soon as we get to the house, I want you kids to pack up your stuff. We're moving.”

“Yippee!” Bernie bounced up and down as high as his seat belt would allow. “Yippee.”

“My sentiments exactly,” said Verna. “It's well past time for me to put Wayne Morgan behind me and get on with the rest of my life.”

“You mean I don't never have to come to jail again?”

“Never,” Verna said, patting his bouncing legs. “Never! Never! Never!” Bernie sang out, throwing both arms in the air like a football player after a touchdown.

If you wish on a star, your wish comes true. Always.
Angel felt sick to her stomach.

 

 

THREE

Hurry up, and I mean both of you. I swear, sometimes you kids act like snails on Valium....Get a move on, will you?”

How could Angel hurry? She stared dumbly into the closet. Verna had said she could take only what fit into the green plastic suitcase that Welfare had given her last year so she wouldn't have to carry her stuff around in a garbage bag. She turned to look at the suitcase gaping open on the couch. It seemed to shrink between glances. A garbage bag would have held a lot more stuff. She put her winter jacket into the suitcase. There was hardly any space left. She took the jacket out. Even though it was August, she would have to wear it. She sure wasn't going to leave an almost-new jacket behind. Someone might steal it.

She
had
to take Grizzle. The huge blue plush bear was the last present Daddy had given her before he went to prison. But she couldn't close the lid with Grizzle inside. She'd have to carry him. He was the only one of her animals she cared about. Sweat was breaking out on her forehead as she pulled out both of her drawers and dumped the contents on the couch beside the suitcase. She should leave behind the clothes she hated and those that she was about to outgrow, even if she still liked them, like the Disney World T-shirt with Goofy on it that Verna had bought at a yard sale. Most of her clothes were getting too small and went back into the drawers.

Underwear. She would have been glad to leave most of that behind, but even if it was holey, she supposed it was necessary. Shoes. She looked at the pairs lolling against each other on the closet floor. Well, she could wear the one pair of sneakers that fit. Her sandals were too worn to bother with, and she hated the red plastic dress-up shoes, which pinched anyhow. Dresses. She had two and she hated them both, but if she didn't have at least one, Verna would be sure to yell at her. Not that they'd be visiting Daddy wherever they were going. Where
were
they going? Maybe to Florida, where it would be warm all the time and all you needed was shorts and T-shirts. Florida. That's where Disney World was. She imagined Verna taking her and Bernie to Disney World. Bernie might be scared of some of those rides, but she wouldn't be. She'd ride everything there, including Space Mountain, which was liable to kill you if you had a weak heart. Hah! It wouldn't bother her a teeny bit.

She put the Disney World T-shirt back in the suitcase. She just might need it. Sweaters. Well, if they were going to Florida, she probably wouldn't need any. Still, Verna hadn't really said anything about Florida. She'd better take a sweater and a sweatshirt. She had a purple one that said
BEN AND JERRY'S,
which was almost big enough for her, so she stuffed it in. Bernie would like it when she really outgrew it.

Verna stuck her head in the door. “I'm telling you, Angel, quit dreaming and get on with it!” She disappeared across the hall into the bedroom she shared with Bernie.

Even from that distance Angel could hear Bernie whining over everything Verna was packing for him. “Shut up, Bernie. No, you can't take your bed. It belongs with the apartment. There'll be another bed in the new house. Now shut up.”

The apartment looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. There was stuff thrown in every direction. Angel stood in the kitchen, waiting for Verna, who was still fighting with Bernie. Now it was over his tricycle. “It's broke, and there won't be no place to ride it anyhow.” Was that a clue? There wouldn't be sidewalks where they were going? Maybe a beach. That was it. Florida was nothing but one beach after another. She'd never seen the ocean. A beach, wow! She was roasting in her winter jacket, sweating, and clutching the huge bear and the suitcase. She was afraid to put anything down to open the door for fear Verna would make her leave it behind. Why were they leaving so much behind? Sure, the furniture came with the apartment, but the TV was theirs. She was sure it was, and at least some of the pots and pans. Verna hadn't made any move to pack up the kitchen.

“Are you going to lug that stupid bear?” Verna asked, coming into the kitchen. She was dragging Bernie with one hand and carrying a large brown plastic suitcase in the other.

She put down the suitcase to open the back door. “Leave the suitcases for me. You get your brother and yourself into the truck,” she ordered. “I'll be right there.” With that, she let go of Bernie's arm and left the kitchen.

Angel was afraid Bernie wouldn't follow her out, but he did. He was whimpering, but he'd given up the fight over his broken tricycle. “I hate her,” he said when they got to the truck. “She's mean.”

“No,” said Angel. “She's just...''Just what? She wanted to stick up for their mother. Kids needed to love their moms no matter what, but she didn't know how to say it right. “You heard her, Bernie,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Get your butt up into this truck. Now.”

She had them both buckled in, Grizzle lying wideeyed at their feet, when Verna came out of the house. She locked the door behind her, let the screen slam, and threw the suitcases into the back of the pickup. When she climbed into the driver's seat, she looked much less grim than she had all day.

“Okay,” she said. “Let's get outta here.”

Angel was desperate to ask where they were going, with just two suitcases and an oversized bear for the three of them, but there was something inside her that really didn't want to know the answer.

“Angel won't let me sit by the window,” Bernie said as Verna cranked the balky motor.

“Oh, let him have the window, Angel.”

“He always puts his hand out. It's dangerous.”

“Don't put your hand out, okay, Bernie?”

“Okay,” he said.

Angel made the change and buckled them both up again. “Mom, you ought to wear your seat belt.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Verna. “You're a regular little highway patrol, aren't you?” But she buckled up. At last the truck motor caught. Verna pressed the gas pedal and made the engine roar a few times before she shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. “Say goodbye to Misery Mansion, kids.”

“Misery what?” Bernie asked.

“Nothing,” said Verna. “Forget it. It's a new day dawning.”

“I'm hungry,” said Bernie.

“You're always hungry, boy.”

“I didn't have no lunch.”

“Judas Priest,” Verna said. “I never thought about lunch. I'm sorry, old man.” She paused at a stop sign and eased her way into traffic. “Soon's we're out of this blinking burg, we'll stop, okay? Just let me get out of here, and we'll stop the first place we see.”

“I'm hungry now.”

“Shh, Bernie,” Angel said. “She said she'd stop soon as she got out of town.”

 

Within a few minutes they were on the interstate, the pickup rattling in protest at the speed Verna was demanding from it. They whizzed past an exit that would have taken them into a big shopping area, past some farmland, and then mountains to the left and mountains to the right and trees everywhere. As soon as Bernie realized that there was nothing but trees on either side of the interstate, he started whining again. “I'm hungry. You said we'd stop.”

“Well, I will. There just ain't any place to stop right now unless you fancy a maple leaf burger. Would you like that, huh?” Verna leaned across Angel and punched Bernie's arm. “How 'bout a side of tasty French-fried bark, hey?”

“Don't punch me,” Bernie ordered grumpily.

“My, my, ain't you the bear. And I thought the bear was riding on the floor.”

“He's just hungry,” Angel said. She was hungry, too, but Verna was more likely to pay attention to Bernie's belly than to hers.

“Yeah, well, we're all hungry,” said Verna. “Soon's we get off the interstate, we can find us a place to eat. Promise.”

“You already promised,” Bernie said. “You promised soon as we got outta town.”

“You
are
a bear, ain't ya? Well, let's sing a song for a bear.” She began to sing:

 

“‘The bear went over the mountain,
The bear went over the mountain,
The bear went over the mountain,
To see what he could
eat!'”

 

At “eat” she leaned across Angel and made as if to bite Bernie. He shrank back toward the window, but he was trying hard not to smile.

Verna grinned. “Okay,” she said, “all together now: ‘The bear went over the mountain...” Angel joined in, watching Bernie out of the corner of her eye. They sang the song over and over, always ending with the big bite toward Bernie, until his shadow of a smile broadened and he let out a giggle.

“That's what I like to hear,” Verna said. “I like to hear my babies being happy.” She sighed. “Not enough laughing in this family. That's for sure. Okay. Now. Let's plan what we're going to eat once we find a place. Me. I think I'll have me a steak about as thick as a brick. How 'bout you, Angel?”

“I don't know. Maybe a hamburger.”

“Just a burger? The sky's the limit when you're dreaming, girl. Better dream big.”

“Cheeseburger? With fries?”

“That's better. What's Bernie Bear ordering?”

“An elephant.”

“Wow. I don't know if we'll have time for an elephant. They take a while to cook.”

“A double bacon cheeseburger with giant fries and a milk shake—chocolate,” Bernie said.

“I shoulda settled for the elephant. Probably been cheaper.”

Bernie giggled again. “But you said—”

“Wow. I gotta be more careful. This mouth of mine is going to get me in trouble big-time!”

Bernie leaned around Angel and growled at Mama. “If you don't watch out, the bear will
eat you up.”

“Whoa,” Verna said. “I'm scared to death.”

It was just then, just when they were all having such a great time together, that they heard the noise. “What's that?” Verna leaned out her window.

“It's the pickup,” Angel said. Then, through the usual rattle of the truck she heard the
blubbidy blubbidy blubbidy
sound.

“Hell's bells. I got a flat.” Verna pulled over to the shoulder and cut off the motor. “And me with no spare.”

“You should always have a spare, Mama. It's not safe not to—”

“Give me a break, Angel. I don't always do what I ought to, okay? Satisfied?” Verna climbed out and walked around the truck.

“I want to see!” Bernie said, reaching for his seat belt. Angel grabbed his hand. “We better stay here,” she said. “It'll just make her madder if we get out.”

They watched anxiously as Verna lifted the hood and then walked several yards ahead and began to wave at passing cars. It was ages before anyone stopped. When at last a guy in a pickup older than their own pulled over, Verna ran up to his window. They talked for a few minutes, and then the pickup drove off. Verna came back and climbed into the cab.

“Why wouldn't he help us, Mama?” Bernie asked.