over the counter and draining her just to change her attitude.
“Must be a very hungry girl,” she said in that very smug tone that made him grind his teeth.
“All right, then, make it half of that. Three happy meals.”
“What would you like in them, Sir?” Her “Sir” sounded like an insult.
Was this a trick question? “Food, of course,” he glared at her. At this point, the people lined behind him snickered and laughed. The girl stared at him as if he was mentally deficient.
“Our happy meals come with hamburgers, cheeseburgers, or chicken nuggets,” she informed him haughtily as she pointed at the listings up behind her.
He thought back to the orders others had placed before him. “Cheese burgers. My niece loves cheese.”
He was never so happy to leave a place as he was to leave McDonald’s. Never had anyone made him feel so stupid as that teenager. She probably thought he was retarded. If only she knew. He was tempted to come back at closing time and make a happy meal out of her. That would get the smug look off her face.
It was almost nine pm when he made it back to the house. The baby was having another tantrum. This time it was hunger, he was sure.
“Nina, here, I have food for both of you. Help me get his bottle ready first.” The lady at the drugstore said that the ready-made formula did not need heating at all. She’d told him what to do.
He twisted the lid open and screwed on the nipple top. Within seconds, the babe was guzzling his formula. He held the baby gingerly, walking up and down the wide, living space while Nina dug into her happy meal with relish. She laid the little plastic bag with the small toy by her side to enjoy later. She definitely knew it wasn't edible. At the moment, her cheeseburger and fries were all that mattered.
With the baby feeding contentedly in his arms, and the girl with her cheeks bulging with food, Maxim felt in control for the first time in days. He had confronted overwhelming obstacles, and he'd conquered each one of them. He even bought a smaller shower hose for when the baby pooped again.
“You'll have to burp him,” the raspy voice said. He looked down, and the mother’s eyes were open. She still looked feverish, but she was awake and talking.
“Burp him?”
“Yes. When he’s done drinking, you prop him up against your shoulder and tap him gently on the back until his gases come out.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“It will keep him from getting gas pain and crying all night.”
“Burping sounds like a great idea. Can you force yourself to eat and drink something? If you want to live and take care of your little ones, that is.”
She turned on her side and with much effort, sat up. Nina brought her the McDonald’s bag and began to unwrap a cheeseburger for her. The woman sat holding herself up with one arm, holding her food with the other. Her daughter held the straw up to her mouth.
“How old is the baby? I don’t think the diapers I bought are the right size for his age. The counter lady asked, but I didn’t know and had to guess.”
She stopped to swallow. “He’s almost two months old. Nina just had her sixth birthday. A very old six,” she smiled wistfully. “She’s had to learn fast. I’m so sorry. I need to be up and tending to my children.”
“You need to be getting better. I have wasted enough time waiting for you to die. It has finally become clear to me that you’re not going to, and that I’d be better served by helping you recuperate so you can take your brood and go on your merry way. I have it all figured out. There is enough formula and diapers for weeks. The baby got his first bath today. I don't know how to cook, but ready-made food is easily available, and Nina seems to like it.”
“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. My name is Angelica Ferrars, but they call me Angel. You’re holding little Marco.”
“I know. Nina told me. I’m Maxim Denisov, but you may call me Max. You said you have
“Must be a very hungry girl,” she said in that very smug tone that made him grind his teeth.
“All right, then, make it half of that. Three happy meals.”
“What would you like in them, Sir?” Her “Sir” sounded like an insult.
Was this a trick question? “Food, of course,” he glared at her. At this point, the people lined behind him snickered and laughed. The girl stared at him as if he was mentally deficient.
“Our happy meals come with hamburgers, cheeseburgers, or chicken nuggets,” she informed him haughtily as she pointed at the listings up behind her.
He thought back to the orders others had placed before him. “Cheese burgers. My niece loves cheese.”
He was never so happy to leave a place as he was to leave McDonald’s. Never had anyone made him feel so stupid as that teenager. She probably thought he was retarded. If only she knew. He was tempted to come back at closing time and make a happy meal out of her. That would get the smug look off her face.
It was almost nine pm when he made it back to the house. The baby was having another tantrum. This time it was hunger, he was sure.
“Nina, here, I have food for both of you. Help me get his bottle ready first.” The lady at the drugstore said that the ready-made formula did not need heating at all. She’d told him what to do.
He twisted the lid open and screwed on the nipple top. Within seconds, the babe was guzzling his formula. He held the baby gingerly, walking up and down the wide, living space while Nina dug into her happy meal with relish. She laid the little plastic bag with the small toy by her side to enjoy later. She definitely knew it wasn't edible. At the moment, her cheeseburger and fries were all that mattered.
With the baby feeding contentedly in his arms, and the girl with her cheeks bulging with food, Maxim felt in control for the first time in days. He had confronted overwhelming obstacles, and he'd conquered each one of them. He even bought a smaller shower hose for when the baby pooped again.
“You'll have to burp him,” the raspy voice said. He looked down, and the mother’s eyes were open. She still looked feverish, but she was awake and talking.
“Burp him?”
“Yes. When he’s done drinking, you prop him up against your shoulder and tap him gently on the back until his gases come out.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“It will keep him from getting gas pain and crying all night.”
“Burping sounds like a great idea. Can you force yourself to eat and drink something? If you want to live and take care of your little ones, that is.”
She turned on her side and with much effort, sat up. Nina brought her the McDonald’s bag and began to unwrap a cheeseburger for her. The woman sat holding herself up with one arm, holding her food with the other. Her daughter held the straw up to her mouth.
“How old is the baby? I don’t think the diapers I bought are the right size for his age. The counter lady asked, but I didn’t know and had to guess.”
She stopped to swallow. “He’s almost two months old. Nina just had her sixth birthday. A very old six,” she smiled wistfully. “She’s had to learn fast. I’m so sorry. I need to be up and tending to my children.”
“You need to be getting better. I have wasted enough time waiting for you to die. It has finally become clear to me that you’re not going to, and that I’d be better served by helping you recuperate so you can take your brood and go on your merry way. I have it all figured out. There is enough formula and diapers for weeks. The baby got his first bath today. I don't know how to cook, but ready-made food is easily available, and Nina seems to like it.”
“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. My name is Angelica Ferrars, but they call me Angel. You’re holding little Marco.”
“I know. Nina told me. I’m Maxim Denisov, but you may call me Max. You said you have
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