A Death-Struck Year by Makiia Lucier

Author:Makiia Lucier
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (www.hmhco.com)

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Five minutes,” Kate insisted. “We’ll buy our lunch and leave in five minutes. Look, we can eat over there.” She pointed down the street, toward the entrance to a square.

“I don’t know . . .” I cast a dubious glance at our surroundings. Thousands of circulars had been distributed, warning everyone to keep away from crowded places. Was no one reading them? Or were they just ignoring the flyers, as we were about to do? There was no place in the city more crowded than this.

Kate’s sigh lasted a full three seconds. “Cleo, I’m famished. It’s five minutes. Come on!” She grabbed my hand, and, against my better judgment, I allowed myself to be pulled into the throng.

The Carroll Public Market stretched along Yamhill Street for three long blocks. Each morning, hundreds of vendors converged, hawking everything from eggs to cream to freshly slaughtered meats. A family sold jars of warm, golden honey, while one mustachioed vendor shouted, “Oranges! Sweet oranges!” The heady aroma of frying potatoes filled the air. Housewives arrived on streetcars, baskets swinging from their arms, taking advantage of the break in the weather. The women rubbed elbows with businessmen and laborers and vagrants, each haggling for the lowest prices on the choicest offerings.

We passed a stand displaying crates of juicy Spitzenberg apples. A short, stocky man stood beside it, polishing the bright red fruit with his apron. He held the apple up to us, a persuasive smile on his face. I smiled and shook my head, then glanced at the clock tower. It was one o’clock. We had spent the morning visiting one rooming house after another. I was very hungry, which always made me snappish, and my mood soured even further every time I thought about Edmund Parrish.

Which was often.

In the hours since I’d seen him, my indignation had shifted to a deep embarrassment. Because I’d come to accept that, to Edmund, I was my own sort of unattended case. Not sick or helpless, but on my own. Without anyone knowing where I was or whether I made it home safely. He’d only been concerned, and I’d stormed off in a huff—after jabbing him in the chest. I relived our conversation over and over again, wincing every time.

“My brother Charlie says that if you scowl like that, and someone slaps you on the back, your face will stay that way forever,” Kate said.

“Very funny,” I said.

Kate tucked her arm into mine. “Don’t be mad at him for keeps, Cleo. He means well.”

“He hardly knows me.”

“Why does that matter? I hardly know you,” she pointed out. “But I still worry.” She stopped in front of a cheese vendor and pointed to a small orange wheel. “How much?” she asked.

While Kate haggled, I wandered over to a neighboring stand that sold fresh bread. It was run by a stooped elderly woman. A worn red kerchief covered her hair. I dropped coins into her outstretched palm and tucked a long, crispy loaf into my empty bag.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.