Read The Bear: A Novel for Free Online

is on her neck and in her shirt and it is ripped and she looks like not Momma but a doll. The doll that she had when she was a baby with eyelids that open and shut and a stare that only goes through the wall and not at your eyes. And skin that is dirty and feels too much like apples.
    “It’s okay. Come so you can hear me.”
    I bend down and it is still Momma and when I do she is cold but she still smells Momma. I put my cheek close to hers and I feel better because the ghosts won’t come when I am close. She doesn’t need to talk to them or do the ghost dance or turn back on the lights. Ghosts just know.
    So I sit with my cheek touching hers and I am finally safe and I start to feel hot tears because of all the yelling and I’m hungry and tired and Coleman wasn’t good and Daddy is so mad he is staying away. And hot tears come out and so does snot and my breath goes huff because I am so glad that I am safe now and can sit with my cheek on Momma’s cheek. I hear a little sniffle and I look and her eyes are teary too. I watch one water fill up and then it slides out the slanty side and down the side of her face and into her hair. Yellow hair that goes out over the plants and shines more than a leaf. She has blue eyes that are like mine even if everyone says Sticky looks more like her so when I look in her eyes it’s like I can see what mine look like on my head. Same color. We checked in the bathroom mirror when I stood on the sink and she held me so I wouldn’t fall and we leaned in and looked at our eyes up close. The color of our eyes is called blue but is really gray with a piece of darker blue around the outside and then lighter color in the middle. Except not as much in the middle as the black part that is a hole that I see through. Sticky has the same eyes too. Both of us have Momma’s eyes in our head. And she looks at me and she doesn’t wipe her tears. That is usually what she does even though she doesn’t cry very many times. But she wipes tears quickly because then I can’t see and maybe she hides them and no one knows the secret of crying. She is crying and she doesn’t hide the secret of me crying by trying to take my tears away.
    “Where’s Alex?” she whispers.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Have you seen him?” Her eyes roll around in her head.
    “In Coleman.”
    “Is he there?”
    I want Momma to use her normal voice and not a whisper that sounds like she swallowed bark and to put her arms around me for a rock and hug and sing.
    “Please, Anna. Look for me.”
    I look over at the tent. It is ripped with a big slash and so that says why Daddy yelled because he would not like a rip in the tent. Through the slash I see something moving. It is inside the tent and pushing things.
    “Something is in the tent.”
    “What?” Momma says wispy. “What is it?”
    I look more and the side of the tent pushes a bit and wiggles and a little bit of flapping. I don’t know what it is inside the tent and I see Stick’s little round head peeking through the rip. “Stick is playing in the tent.”
    “Oh, thank God.” She is gaspy. “He’s okay?”
    “No.”
    “Is he hurt?”
    “No; he has a poop.”
    “Thank God.”
    It is funny that she thanks God for Stick’s poop. Usually she shrugs and says that he should remember to use the toilet because soon he is nearly three years old and it is a good age for in the toilet. His poop is big like a moose poop because it’s too big for a diaper and yuck. But he forgets and wants a diaper. And that means he gets Momma to pick him up and snuggle. I have to go and get a clean diaper and sometimes wipes and a bag to put them in for the garbage and no snuggle at all. Momma says that he will learn when he is ready. I don’t think he will because he wants all the snuggles for him. Ever.
    “You need to change his diaper,” I say because that is what happens next.
    “No,” she says and it’s soft so I can barely hear.
    “I will get a diaper.”
    “That