From the Corner of His Eye

now."
        "Eat some cheese."
        "Are we back to that?"
        "It's brain food."
        "Cheese? Who says?"
        "The cheese man on TV."
        "You can't believe everything you see on TV, sugarpie."
        "Captain Kangaroo doesn't lie."
        "No, he doesn't. But Captain Kangaroo isn't the cheese man."
        Wally's house was half a block ahead. He was standing on the side walk, talking to a taxi driver. Her cab had already arrived.
        "Let's hurry, sugarpie."
        "Do they know each other?"
        "Uncle Wally and the cab driver? I don't think so."
        "No. Captain Kangaroo and the cheese man."
        "They probably do."
        "Then the Captain should tell him not to lie."
        "I'm sure he will."
        "What is brain food?"
        "Fish maybe. You remember to say your prayers tonight."
        "I always do."
        "Remember to ask a God-bless for me and Uncle Wally and Grandma and Grandpa-"
        "I'm gonna pray for the cheese man, too."
        "That's a good idea."
        "Will you eat some bread?"
        "I'm sure we will."
        "Put some fish on it."
        Grinning, Wally held his-arms out, and Angel ran to him, and he scooped her up from the sidewalk. He said, "You look like a chili pepper."
        "The cheese man is a rotten liar," she announced.
        Handing the satchel to Wally, Celestina said, "Dolls, crayons, and her toothbrush."
        To Angel, the taxi driver said, "Why, you sure are a lovely young lady, aren't you?"
        "God didn't want me to be a dog," Angel told him.
        "Is that so?"
        "He didn't make me furry."
        "Gimme a kiss, sugarpie," Celestina said, and her daughter planted a wet smooch on her cheek. "What're you gonna dream about?"
        "You," said Angel, who occasionally had nightmares.
        "What kind of dreams are they gonna be?"
        "Only good ones."
        "What happens if the stupid boogeyman dares to show up in your dream?"
        "You'll kick his hairy butt," Angel said.
        "That's right."
        "Better hurry," Wally advised, gracing Celestina's other cheek with a dryer kiss.
        The reception was from six o'clock to eight-thirty. If she were to arrive on time, guardian angels would have to be perched on all the traffic lights along the way.
        In the cab, pulling into traffic, the driver said, "The mister tells me you're the star of the show tonight."
        Celestina turned in her seat to look back at Wally and Angel, who were waving. "I guess I am."
        "Do they say 'break a leg' in the art world?"
        "I don't see why not."
        "Then break a leg."
        "Thank you."
        The cab turned the comer. Wally and Angel were lost to sight.
        Facing forward again, Celestina suddenly laughed with delight.
        Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, the driver said, "Pretty exhilarating, huh? Your first big show?"
        "I guess so, but it's not that. I was thinking of something my little girl said."
        Celestina succumbed to a fit of giggles. Before she could control them, she used up two Kleenex to blow her nose and to blot the laughter from her eyes.
        "She seems like a pretty special kid," the driver said.
        "I sure think so. I think she's everything. I tell her she's the moon and stars. I'm probably spoiling her rotten."
        "Nah. Lovin' them isn't the same as spoilin' them."
        Dear Lord, how she loved her sugarpie, her little M&M. Three years had passed in what seemed like a month, and although there had been stress and struggle, too few hours in every day, less time for her art than she would have liked, and little or no time for herself, she wouldn't have traded being blindsided by motherhood for any amount of wealth, not for anything in the world… except to have Phimie back. Angel was the moon, the sun, the stars, and all the comets streaking through infinite galaxies: an ever-shining light.
        Wally's help, not just with the apartment, but with his time and love, had made an incalculable difference.
        Celestina often thought of his wife and twin boys-Rowena, Danny, and Harry-dead in that airliner crash six years ago, and sometimes she was pierced by a sense of loss so poignant that they might have been members of her own family. She grieved as much over their loss of Wally as over his loss of them, and as blasphemous as the thought might be, she