I hadn't really talked to Lisa about her father. So she made up a story. About how her mother came from the Kingdom of Bursitis and her dad came from the Kingdom of Arthritis. They couldn't live together because life would have been too painful. She called the Queen, Queenie. My name's Regina but everybody calls me Queenie. So it kind of fit, but not quite. I do have bursitis from carrying all those dishes. But the arthritis bit? I talked to her about telling lies and she rewrote the report. After the Kingdom of Bursitis, Peoria County Hospital looked kind of pale.

  It wouldn't have been so bad except the month before, Lisa told her teacher she came from deaf and dumb people. The teacher arranged for an interpreter at the parent-teacher conference. Mrs. Gough and me and this bald guy sat in those teeny-tiny chairs, our knees up to our chests, kind of laughing, kind of not.

  "She's got an imagination," Mrs. Gough said. "I'll give her that." It looked to me like her imagination wasn't doing her much good on her 7X multiplication tables. I picked up a box of flash cards on my way home.

  With her little friend Roxanne and Roxanne's tight-ass mother, it was probably a case of nerves. Lisa's never stayed overnight before. She's old enough, almost nine, but we've moved so much, it's been hard for her to get close to somebody long enough to pack up the pajamas and tooth brush for a sleep-over. Mrs. Tight Ass called me and asked me what the circumstances of my husband being in prison in the Middle East were.

  I said, "The Middle East?"

  She was quiet and I was quiet and finally, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did he get

  sent to Joliet?"

  I didn't know what to say.

  Of course, I expected a story about why her tennis shoes are too big. You can't always pick new shoes at Goodwill and these shoes were pink. "Like flamingoes," she said. I let her have them even though she's really a size 1, not 2-1/2.

  But underwear? "Have you changed your underpants?" I say it every day. The girls had a competition at school to see how many days they could go wearing only striped socks and striped underpants. When I did our wash at the Coin-OP, I couldn't find any dirty panties in the basket. Not one. She wore her red-and-white striped pair every day for two weeks. I asked her why and she said she really wanted to win.

  "Next time, I'll buy stripes," I said. "You told me you liked flowers!"

  We haven't ever had a car.

  I never got around to learning to drive. I left home at sixteen and what with my waitress job and not having a regular man around the house, it just never...well, we get along fine on the bus and Lisa, she's so smart, she can figure out any bus schedule, the quickest way, with the least number of changes. She told Mrs. Murphy we'd take her to her doctor appointments when our car got fixed. Mrs. Murphy's the neighbor with diabetes, the one in the wheel chair? Her purple foot sticks out in front of her with all its scaly skin. Mrs. Murphy called to me as I came up the stoop. "Lisa's so sweet, but I got my nephew to give me rides in his Buick." Lisa put away the canned goods and I put the eggs and milk in the Frigidaire. I couldn't catch her eye. I was too tired to get into it with her. When she climbed into bed with me that night, I spooned up to her like we do. I said, "I know you want things. So do I. But saying we have a car isn't going to drive it up in front of the building."

  And then there was the pet thing. Everybody at school was supposed to do a report and Lisa said she had a corn snake. Some boys in her class came home with her. They wanted to see it swallow an egg. And Mrs. Murphy--the one with the purple foot?--she said, "That Lisa sure is a popular little girl. A new boy every day!" I didn't put two and two together. I don't get home until six-thirty.

  One night, she had a big scrape on her elbow. She told me Ben Early wanted to see her pet. I said, "But honey, you haven't got any pet."

  "That's why he pushed me down," Lisa said.

  I got the story about the snake out of her when we climbed into bed. "Honey, I didn't know you wanted a pet. It's just that most apartments won't let you have a dog or a cat. You could have a fi...how about that?"

  She turned her shoulders to the wall. Pretty soon, I heard her breathing settle down in her chest and she fell off the cliff into sleep like she does.

  I went to her backpack and found the report about the snake in the bottom. She'd done a lot of research about what a snake eats. Those mice babies they call pinkies? She listed out what a cage costs, over $100. The lights were $35. The ultraviolet heat lamp--another twenty bucks. We don't have that kind of money.

  At the top of the report, there's a Polaroid of my Lisa holding the snake. Now, where did she get a picture of herself holding a corn snake? That took a lot of doing. She must have gone to Man's Best Friend, the pet store on Twelfth, and asked them to take a picture with their camera. In the Polaroid, she's holding her palms together. The snake wraps around her fingers like a tan and orange spotted belt. Except for that forked tongue. The way she's got her palms pressed together, it looks like she's praying. Praying it doesn't bite her? I want to pray when I think of her walking past those crack houses to get to the pet store. Corny and Lisa, she wrote in black Magic Marker at the bottom of the picture.

  We had a serious talk about lying. I told her if she keeps this up, no one will believe her. She chewed on her braid. She's a little old for the Boy and the Wolf story, but I told it to her anyway. "Instead of riding the Number 17, like a big girl," I said, "you have to go back to Mrs. Rodriguez." Her eyes filled up. Lisa's the biggest kid at the day care and she hates it. I told her, "If I can't trust you, you'll have to be watched after school."

  Then she told the one about setting fires. The caseworker came in to check on Mrs. Rodriguez and she asked Lisa what she liked to do after school. Lisa said the thing she likes best is to set fires. My Lisa has never set a fire in her life. If you give her a match, she can't even make it catch. Mrs. Rodriguez called the cafe' when the social worker took Lisa away. I had to leave work before my shift was over. I just grabbed my coat and ran for the bus. I got to Child Protective Services after five.

  "I don't smoke," I said to the woman. "She's never struck a match. I can see you don't believe me. You want to believe her. She's eight years old! She lied about starting fires because she's mad about being dumped at day care with all the little kids. If you don't believe me, see for yourself. Call her in here and ask her to light a match. Lisa, honey, I want you to strike a match for Mrs. McArthur. That's OK. Try again, honey. Sometimes they don't go on the first try. No, turn the matchbook over and strike the head on the gray strip. Try it again, honey, so Mrs. McArthur can see how smart you are. Don't cry, baby. Go sit out in the hall until I finish in here with Mrs. McArthur. She needs to sign some papers so we can go home."

  I hustled her out. It was after six and she was fagged out. So was I.

  "Let's have milkshakes and burgers," I said. "I don't feel like cooking. You can sit in the front window."

  She blinked. She wasn't expecting a treat.

  We had our discussion at the Create-Your-Own. You know, where you can make your hamburger however you want it? She loves that place, God knows why. She always has her hamburger plain, no mustard, no relish, no cheese, just two slabs of bun and a piece of lettuce. We drank milkshakes. She was watching for limousines to pull up in front of the skyscraper across the street. One time we counted six in one meal but that was lunchtime.

  I said, "Where did they all come from? All the stories?"

  "I don't know."

  "It's scaring me!"

  "I can't help it."

  "I don't like it."

  She ate her hair and I told her to stop.

  "Is something bothering you?" I asked.

  She twisted the stool back and forth. I stuck out my foot.

  "Where do I come from?" she said. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "You want to know about the birds and the bees? Is that what this is all about?"

  "I think about a daddy all the time. Where is he? Did I do something wrong?"

  "Oh, honey, you didn't do anything wrong, it's just--it was such a long time ago, and I was young and it was just the one night."

  "Doesn't he like me?"

  "He doesn't know you! He barely knew me. A college boy out celebrating! I poured the beer. He was going to Japan on a Fulright, he said. I never heard of it. He spent the night and left the next day, and he never knew anything about you."

  "I think about him all the time but I can't see him. I have to make it up every time somebody asks me."

  "I have to make it up every time somebody asks me, too, because it was so long ago and it was dark and only a few hours!"

  A big, white limousine pulled up in front of the Create-Your-Own in the no-park zone. All the spaces were filled in front of the skyscraper. The driver walked around to the door and a man stepped out. Tall. Broad shoulders in a blue suit. He had a leather briefcase in one hand, a cell phone in the other. He stood there talking and laughing at the same time. Lisa stared at him. He had bright, white teeth, like the man in the tooth paste ad.

  "That's him," I said. "See how he looks like you? Your black hair. Look, no curl. Your hazel eyes!"

  We both stared at him like two magpies eyeing his gold cuff links. Lisa sat still, one hand curled around her straw. Her fingers uncurled and she waved a little four-finger wave.

  Sweet Jesus. He smiled back. White, shining teeth, like he goes to the dentist every week. He lifted his teeny phone and waved back. I nodded a thank-you. He turned and walked up the street. The traffic flow carried him away.

  She squinted at me. She got that little crinkle between her eyebrows, like she does when she works on her story problems in math. I patted her head. She leaned up against my arm and I hugged her to me. The waitress came with the burgers and the ketchup and the fries. Lisa bit down, a big bite. Before I knew it, we'd cleaned our plates. We swallowed the whole thing. We were so famished.

* * *