Gryphon_ New and Selected Stories - Charles Baxter [2]
“I don’t like her,” the boy said. “She kicks people and steals cookies from my lunch.”
“The stars will take care of you,” Burrage said softly. “When you see Rosemary, just get out of her way and do something else. She just acts funny sometimes. I know from your horoscope that you’ll find plenty of crayons and clay to play with.”
“A train,” the boy said sleepily.
“You will find a train,” Burrage said, blowing out cigar smoke, “and you can play with the train if you share it. Rosemary won’t bother you. Anyhow, it’ll be a fine day. The planets and the stars have decided that it’ll be sunny tomorrow morning, and you’ll also be playing outside in the sandbox or on the jungle gym. You’ll laugh a lot and there’s a good chance you’ll play hide-and-seek. I have a feeling that there’ll be peanut-butter sandwiches in your lunchbox tomorrow. Now go to sleep. Sleep tight.” Half asleep, the boy made roaring-dragon sounds. Burrage leaned back in the rocking chair to finish his cigar and listen to Glenn Miller.
Burrage is Gregory’s uncle, in actual fact. Burrage’s brother Cecil, Gregory’s father, and Cecil’s wife, Virginia, were on their way back from seeing a movie when they were hit head-on in a residential area of Ann Arbor by a kid who was testing the potential of his father’s Corvette. At the time, Burrage was living with a red-haired woman named Leslie who was about to move out anyway: her company had relocated her in Seattle. Very little of what happened to Burrage in this period of his life entered his permanent memory. The phone rang all the time, and he had to talk to lawyers whose names he could never remember. He had to go to the Hall of Justice by himself and sign documents. Cecil and Virginia’s will said quite explicitly that Burrage was to be the guardian of Gregory should anything happen to them; Burrage had known about this will but had thought it would never be unlocked from the safety deposit box where it had been stored against the day.
He took a leave from the bank and stayed with his mother in Grosse Pointe Shores for two weeks, where he tried to get used to the shock of his brother’s and sister-in-law’s deaths and to having Gregory around all the time. Burrage was terrified by every minute of his entire future earthly life. For his part, Gregory went back to sucking his thumb and sat slumped in front of the television set all day, crying in the evening when the children’s programming ended. At times he fell asleep during Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and emitted tiny snores. After Burrage had finally taken all of his nephew’s toys over to his condominium in Ann Arbor, he moved Gregory out of his mother’s home and into his. Six months later Burrage’s mother sold her house and moved to Arizona, obviously dazed but not yet incompetent.
After a few weeks, Gregory stopped asking when his mommy and daddy were coming back, but he became more interested in television than ever, especially cartoons and broadcasts of church services. He explained to Burrage that people prayed on television, and he wanted to know how it was done. This request was the first one he had made to Burrage that did not have to do with getting dressed, going to the bathroom, or eating a meal. Burrage hadn’t been brought up in a religious household, didn’t know anything about prayers, and said so.
“I want to know how,” Gregory said. “They all do it on TV. What do I do?”
“I don’t know,” Burrage told him. “But try this: kneel beside the bed at night and put your head down and close your eyes. Think of what you’re happy about. Then think about the things you want. That’s what people usually do when they pray.” He stopped and waited. Then he asked, “Why do you want to start doing something like this?”
“It might help,