by M. O. McLeod
18.
C.O.N.J.A.R
O’bellaDonna would leave every night and go off to see her lover, and then return in the morning. April left during the day and night to patrol the outer banks of the station. She was paid with food and security that she offered to the group. Jackie was there in the mornings and afternoons, but once the night fell she would disappear, telling no one when she would be back. She was a car thief who worked for a shady, black-market dealer.
Rimselda was a panhandler who made signs in three languages to ask for money. She would bring home breakfast or trinkets she picked up off the streets. She stayed gone for most of the afternoon and night, leaving Kurma with only Nina and Chelsea. The two girls would strike up a conversation between themselves every time Kurma had tried to start one with them, excluding her every chance they could. Kurma was beginning to go stir crazy.
As the days wore on, she became hungrier and hungrier. Rimselda felt it as well. The two girls would sit together and whisper their fears to one another. Kurma told Rimselda she had no idea what to eat, and she had been hungry since the beginning of being Raptored. The girls ate the food that was given to them but then went off to the restroom and threw it all up. It seemed that human food would not stay down. Rimselda told Kurma they would have to reveal their secret. She felt nervous every time one of the girls offered them food. Sometimes Rimselda would throw up in her mouth as she tried to swallow the food down. She couldn’t bear to eat it. The girls started noticing that their skin looked saggy and yellow; their hair was becoming stringy and dull, and they were losing weight rapidly.
Rimselda confided in Kurma about what she thought they needed to eat one night as the two girls snuck off to the stone museum in Dover Park Square. The moon lit the girls’ paths as they walked through the park. Kurma had grown to like Rimselda. She was nice and simple, and didn’t ignore her as the other flat mates did.
Rimselda was nervous about talking to Kurma. She didn’t know how Kurma would take her revelation. “Kurma, I think I know why we can’t keep our food down,” she whispered. The night was filled with sounds of the park. Still Rimselda whispered so even the trees wouldn’t hear.
Kurma’s ears perked up. “What do you think it is?” she asked.
“The other day I was sitting on the ground with my bucket in front of me, and I was so hungry. This guy came by and dropped a sandwich in instead of money. I could have stabbed his eye out for it. I tossed the sandwich away, but then I noticed a bug was crawling on it—eating it, I guess. My hands, without thinking, mind you, reached out and snatched the bug. I put it in my mouth before I knew what I was doing!”
“No!” mouthed Kurma.
“Yes, and you know what? It wasn’t half as bad as I’d thought it would be.”
“Isn’t that what birds do? Eat bugs?” asked Kurma.
Rimselda shrugged her shoulders. She thought Kurma would know more than she did. “So, if I were to dig in the ground and pull out a worm, I could eat it without barfing?”
“I believe so.”
Kurma stopped walking and let Rimselda’s words sink in. She bent down and felt the earth beneath her hands. She clawed at the ground, looking for a worm. She felt the cold dirt, but no worms. She stood up and looked at Rimselda.
“There might be some insects in the stone museum,” said Kurma. “I hope you aren’t right about this.”
Rimselda hoped too.