Time Zero by Carolyn Cohagan

Author:Carolyn Cohagan [Cohagan, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2016-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

FRESH FRUIT IS THE LAST THING I EXPECT IN this depressing gray room, but when I wake in the morning, Juda offers me a jar filled with sweet pieces of apple, peach, and blackberry.

“You said all the food down here was rotten,” I say, confused.

Pointing to the tin cans, he says, “All the stuff that was already here. My mother’s been bringing other things by.” He hands me a fork, says a quick prayer, and offers me the first bite. “Fruit salad is her specialty.”

I happily sink my teeth into a juicy peach and then a crisp, tart apple. I then choose a ripe berry, deciding this may be the most delicious breakfast I’ve ever had. “It’s so good! Where did it all come from?”

“It grows all over the city. You just have to know where to look,” he says. “My mother spends her weekends foraging.”

“That’s amazing.” I certainly can’t picture my parents out in the city, hunting for a blackberry bush.

“I didn’t think it was so amazing when I was a kid. She’d drag me from Wall Street to Columbus Circle in search of a pear.”

“Right now, it seems totally worth it,” I say, licking my fork as I hand him the jar. He grins, helping himself to several bites. We keep eating until there’s nothing left. “Is there any more?” I ask.

“Not today.” He places the empty jar next to several others I hadn’t noticed before, up on a high shelf.

My stomach gurgles. “Maybe we could eat something else?”

“Okay. But something with more substance, so we’ll be full longer.” He looks at the shelf below. “This’ll work.” He sits back down, holding a small container of brownish-gray meat. “It’s squirrel. Nice and filling.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“You don’t like squirrel?”

“We . . . uh . . . don’t eat a lot of it.” More than half the city eats squirrel, but it’s really considered the meat of last resort.

“Of course,” he says, embarrassed.

“Mother is silly about it, really,” I say, afraid I’ve insulted him. “When we can’t afford ham or even goat, she’ll serve us spinach and carrots with no meat. She just can’t wrap her head around the idea of squirrel. But I’ve always wanted to try it.” I smile.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, laughing and opening the jar.

I laugh too, as a sharp, gamey smell fills the room. “Ooh-wee! That smells strong!”

“I know. It tastes better than it smells. The thing about squirrels . . .” He holds the open jar forward for me to examine. “They eat nuts—acorns and walnuts—so their meat is really nutty and sweet. I actually like it better than ham.” Spearing a big hunk of the gray-brown meat, he shovels it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he says as he chews. “Delicious.”

Tree rat is all I can think, but I need to repress my judgment, because I know it’s my mother’s voice talking.

Suddenly, and with great relief, I remember the potatoes in my pocket from yesterday, and I offer one to Juda. I eat mine, but he places his on his knee while he continues to eat the squirrel.

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