Part 7 (2/2)
The kitten hissed again, but this time less a.s.suredly.
For whatever reason, I was determined to make this animal my friend. He was the first native I had met in Hungary, and I wanted to make a good impression. I dug through my duffel bag until I found my sandwich. Peeling off the last piece of salami, I tossed it at the foot of the staircase. The kitty immediately perked up his ears and widened his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh again. He looked like a bat with such giant kittenish ears, the one ragged ear flicking repeatedly toward the food.
”Come on kitty,” I said. ”I won't hurt you.” I kissed the air until he came forward from behind the staircase.
”See,” I said as he sniffed the salami and began to lick it. ”It's food.”
He knew it was food, too. He sat down on his thin haunches and began to tear at the salami until it was shredded by his tiny teeth, clutched between his paws. He ate ravenously.
My smile turned off when I recognized the cause of the rapidity with which he ate. He was starving.
I knew what that was like. More children know starvation than you might think, but most of the other children couldn't eat because their families were poor. I knew part of that with my Nagy, once my father abandoned me to her. His wife didn't want any of her money going to feed me, and my grandmother found it hard to stay steadily employed with only her needlework and tailoring.
I had learned to turn off my appet.i.te when it was needed. When my friends and I had gone on field trips to amus.e.m.e.nt parks, I would smile and laugh and watch the other children buy ten dollar lunches, claiming I had eaten a huge breakfast and then drinking lots of water. Water would fill my stomach, swell it out so that it looked like a normal teenage girl, or approximately that. Sometimes people would be kind and offer me some of their food.
”Here, have some of my fries. I can't eat them all.”
Oh, to be so full that you didn't want to eat french fries! What that must have felt like! Whenever I had the opportunity, I ate. Who knew when the next time would come? At buffets, I stuffed myself until I was overfull, and the binging way I ate ruined any chance at healthiness.
I had rituals with food, and every food had its own special way of being eaten. Cookies I would dip three at a time in a gla.s.s of milk, so that the third one had almost turned to mush by the time I got to it. Sandwiches I nibbled around the edges, saving the middle, uncrusted part, for last. Broccoli I munched the heads off of first, then sliced the stems into little cubes that I ate with a fork, like peas. Coffee I would sip even while it was burning hot, just to feel the way it trickled down my throat to my stomach and warmed me from the inside out.
Chocolate-oh, chocolate. I would smell the chocolate in my fingers, letting the warmth of my hand melt it slightly and deliver an intoxicating aroma to my nose. My tongue licked the side of the chocolate bar, tasting it first before placing it directly on the middle of my tongue, pressing it to the top of my palate and inhaling again, savoring the taste for as long as I could before it melted away. G.o.d, chocolate. Both my downfall and my salvation, chocolate could tempt angels to sin, if sin involved eighty percent or more of cacao.
Before that, though, I knew hunger for a different reason than poverty. My fake family was rich, but they starved me of love, and a single word from their lips could shrivel my appet.i.te, and did.
Now I watched the kitten lick the taste of the salami from the floor, and I wished I had more to give him.
”I'm sorry, kitty,” I said, holding out a hand in apology. The kitten, tamed by his desire for food, padded quickly over to my hand and licked it questioningly. I let my fingers stroke his tiny head, his ragged ear. My thumb brushed over the snowflake pattern between his ears. A soft purring filled the s.p.a.ce between us.
”You're a lucky kitty,” I said. ”It's good luck I found you here.” I looked up at the dimly lit stairs. ”Kind of lonely here, huh?”
The kitten skidded away from me when I stood up, but he stayed close at my heels as I picked up my bag and walked through the rooms to explore. It didn't take long. The upstairs and downstairs had been built with the same layout, two rooms each, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette between. Each room had six bunk beds in it, two on each wall. I poked my head into the bathroom. Just a dingy shower, a sink, a toilet. One bathroom for twelve people? I shuddered.
The air in the rooms was stale and frigid, and I couldn't find any kind of thermostat for the radiators. I considered calling Eliot-I had his number-but he was probably at his dinner with his brother. I wouldn't want to interrupt. I tried to turn the stove on, thinking I might just leave the oven open for warmth. The pilot light flickered but the flames sputtered dead within a few seconds-gas must be off. I yawned. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to sleep. Dim light shone through the window, but I was exhausted from the plane rides.
I returned to the bedroom I had somewhat claimed as mine-the only one with a small window that you could look out of from the top bunk. I put on another two layers of s.h.i.+rts, but that was all that would fit under my tight hoodie. I put on another pair of socks, and the thin gloves that had protected me through the California winter, and sweatpants over my normal jeans. My teeth still chattered and my nose ran like nothing else.
”Meow!”
”Come here, kitty,” I said, extending my hand. The kitten just sat in the middle of the doorway, watching me.
”Fine, then.” I said. I pulled two blankets off of the beds. I touched the radiator, but it was just lukewarm with water inside, probably just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. Oh well, better than nothing. I swaddled myself in blankets and leaned up next to the tepid radiator, sniffing all the while.
The kitten padded over across the room curiously. I let one finger slide out from under the blanket and his ears perked up, his thin, fuzzy tail swis.h.i.+ng behind him. He pounced on my hand and bit my glove harmlessly.
”I'm going to call you Lucky. Is that okay, Lucky?” I petted him with my free hand, but he continued to gnaw at my finger, his back paws kicking at my arm playfully.
”Good,” I said. ”Then it's settled.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, petting Lucky as my eyelids drooped lower.
”Good kitty,” I said, and then I was asleep.
I woke up in darkness, not knowing where I was for a moment. The light from the window outside had dimmed to nothing, and the bunk beds around me loomed menacingly like monsters from a bad dream. The air was freezing cold. I blinked, my heart racing, and then I heard a faint purring from my lap. I looked down. Lucky had curled up in the crook of my arm and slept soundly, his white paws tucked under his small gray body.
”Good kitty,” I mumbled, petting him with one hand. My fingers ached with the cold, and as I stood up carefully with Lucky in my arms I felt all of my joints cry out with the same chilly ache. I put Lucky down on the bed and checked my phone, my teeth already starting to chatter. In the darkness of the room my phone shone brightly, and I could see puffs of my breath coming out over the small screen.
It was ten o'clock. I didn't want to disturb Eliot if I didn't have to, but at the same time I didn't want to get hypothermia on my first day in Hungary. My muscles twitched with cold. I switched the ceiling light on and squinted in the sudden brightness.
”What should I do, Lucky?” I sat down on the bed next to him and he stretched his paws out on my lap, kneading my thigh with his tiny claws. I scratched behind his ears and he wriggled with happiness, then bit down hard my finger.
”If I have to get another teta.n.u.s shot because of you, I'm never giving you salami again,” I said.
”Meow?”
”Okay,” I said. I put down the phone in my lap and took a deep breath. When I picked it up to dial the number, my fingers were shaking, whether with cold or nerves I didn't know. Eliot picked up on the first ring.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Um, Dr. Herceg?”
”Brynn!” His voice sounded so warm and inviting that at first I couldn't speak. In the background, I could hear laughter and the sounds of people eating. I swallowed hard and coughed.
”Um, I'm here. Got in a few hours ago.”
”Oh, how wonderful! I can't tell you how glad I am that you made it.” My heartstrings vibrated with his words. ”How are you? Did you find the apartments alright? I haven't been over there yet myself, still at this nonsense dinner.”
”It's... uh, it's really cold.”
”Much colder than California, that's certain!”
”Um, is there-is there any way to turn the heater on?”
”Sorry, I can't hear you. One second.” The background noises grew quieter and then I heard Eliot again. ”What's that? The heater?”
”Um, yeah. The heater isn't on, and I-”
”The heater isn't on? Brynn, you must be freezing? Are you still in the apartments?”
”Uh, yeah.”
”My G.o.d.” Eliot swore, and I heard him speak to someone at the party, this time in Hungarian. They talked back and forth and then Eliot was back on the line.
”Brynn, are you there?”
”Yeah, I'm here.”
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