Doomsday Match by Jeff Wheeler

Author:Jeff Wheeler [Wheeler, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-01T06:00:00+00:00

Dinner was a bowl of small elbow macaroni in tepid white sauce, with chunks of ham and two small saltine crackers.

Nothing had ever tasted so good. Roth finished his first bowl in about a minute and put it aside. But Jorge insisted the cook, who was even shorter than him, with a black fishnet cap and light blue jeans, refill it from the massive bowl of pasta. Jorge brought it to Roth with a kindly smile.

“Eat. Eat.”

Everyone was gobbling up the meal, especially the twins. Suki had a disaffected look—she was usually pretty picky—but even she was hungry enough to want it. Jane Louise had a glad smile as she ate hers.

The cook then brought an assortment of plastic cups, most of them different from each other, with a brown fluid in them.

“Jugo. Juice,” Jorge explained. “Drink.”

It wasn’t very sweet, and Roth feared they might get sick from drinking it, but he was too thirsty to care.

“Agua para mí,” Sarina said, and they brought her a cup of water, which she drank down rapidly before asking for more.

Sarina’s bowl sat in her lap, untouched. She looked exhausted, but she asked Jorge for more information about the orphanage, and he answered in Spanish at some length. Finally, he nodded, smiled, and clasped his hands over the little leather purse hanging on a strap in front of his tracksuit.

“The food they feed the children comes from a single resort,” Sarina explained. “It’s against the law in this state, Quintana Roo, to allow the tourists’ leftovers to be used to feed the hungry. And there are so many hungry. But one resort doesn’t throw their waste away. Jorge picks it up discreetly and uses it to feed the kids. Sometimes all they have is one meal a day.”

Guilty looks came across their eyes. Roth stopped eating his second bowl. He couldn’t eat the food that was supposed to feed the children at the orphanage.

“Eat, eat,” Jorge implored in his kindly manner when he saw that Roth had stopped.

“I’m full,” Roth said, lying. He hadn’t even found the edge of his hunger yet, but he couldn’t take from the kids.

Jorge looked at Roth seriously. “My English is so-so. Spanish okay?” he asked, looking at Sarina.

“Sí,” she said, nodding.

Jorge began to talk again. Even though Roth couldn’t understand what he was saying, he felt a strange connection to the man. This fellow reminded him of the bishop from Les Misérables. There was an aura of goodness, of kindness, about him. Jorge spoke passionately, using his hands as he talked, pointing and gesturing to himself, to the cook, then to Roth’s family. He clasped his hands over his purse again when he was finished talking.

Sarina seemed moved by the words. She looked at Roth. “He said that God provides for them, and God will provide for us too. Everything they have here came from donations from others. The buildings. The playground. Even the little houses. He said more food will come tonight. He doesn’t know how. But he will pray for it, and it will come.

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