Hell Fire Read Free Page B

the kitchen table. And like every other morning, he threw a tantrum. “I don’t want to go to daycare,” he screamed, banging his spoon on the table and making the porridge bowl jump. Bonnie felt like crying.
    â€œBut you’ll have a great time,” she said as enthusiastically as she could. “You can play with Märta. And you might get hot chocolate with marshmallows.” She stroked his cheek. He kept on banging the table with his spoon. All he wanted was to be with his mother, and more than anything, he wanted to be back in bed under the warm comforter. Bonnie poured milk onto his porridge and sprinkled some sugar on top.
    â€œI’ll be home this afternoon, so we can have fun together then,” she said. “We can make a tent with the blanket and two chairs, and we can pretend you live in the tent. I can give you supper in there. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”
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    At daycare, the children each had their own picture by their coat pegs. Simon’s was of a snail, carrying its little house around on its back, its tentacles standing up like two antennae. Simon sat down heavily on the pine bench as his mother took off his jacket and then his hat and scarf, mittens, and toasty boots. He collapsed in a little heap. He didn’t have the energy to protest anymore; he knew that his mother had to go. She took him by the hand and led him to the other children, who were milling around.
    This can’t be right, Bonnie thought, leaving him with others. Being away all day. It should be him and me all day long. Her child next to her body, her child within arm’s reach, so she could comfort him if anything should happen. They only had a meager three hours together in the evening. Her guilty conscience gnawed away at her, but she had to work. She was a home health aide who washed, scrubbed, and polished for old people; she vacuumed carpets, shook out rugs, and served food. Today she was going to Erna first, and Erna was always a challenge.
    â€œGood morning, Simon,” said Kaja, who was the head of the daycare. “And what would you like to do today?”
    He didn’t have an answer. The little boy wasn’t used to having his wishes fulfilled. He slowly wandered across the room, sat down on the big corner sofa, and picked up a picture book. He started to turn the pages with his thin fingers. He could read a few words—his mother had taught him—the word
ice cream
and the word
ape
, and his own name. As his mother’s back disappeared through the door, he got up and ran over to the window. He watched the taillights disappear through the gate and down the road. Now he had to wait for nine hours. He walked slowly back to the sofa and started to look through the book. Kaja sat down beside him.
    â€œYou’re on kitchen duty today,” she said with a smile. “You’ll enjoy that, won’t you? We’re going to make bread rolls. And you can knead the dough.”
    Simon didn’t answer this either. The sight of the unhappy little thing who was only four and a half years old nearly broke Kaja’s heart. No one should have to leave a crying child. It was wrong and she really felt for Bonnie Hayden. She tried to think about all the positive things: he didn’t go hungry or get cold; he was a much-loved child. And that couldn’t be said for all the children in her care.
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    Once in the car, Bonnie took a moment to pull herself together. It was the same pain every morning, the same terrible feeling of guilt that she had to push back down. She drove through the gate, on her way to Erna, who was incredibly demanding. She cursed her mean little life, the fight she had every morning with her crying son. Everyone else seemed so much happier than she was—had more energy and plans and dreams for themselves and their children. She often wondered if Simon would manage to get by in life and worried that he would also fall short and be