And he’d vowed to Bri that he and Julie would stay home. What kind of vow was it if he broke it four days later?
“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “I’m really sorry, Uncle Jimmy, but I think Julie’ll be better off here with me.”
“I know Lorraine and Julie don’t get along too good, but that’ll change,” Uncle Jimmy said. “You won’t be able to stay here much longer. When it’s time for you to go, it’s going to be easier if you don’t have Julie to worry about. You did the right thing sending Bri away. Now do the same for Julie.”
Alex knew Uncle Jimmy was right. Sure, he and Lorraine would work Julie hard, but as long as they had food and a home, Julie would, too. And things might be better in Tulsa. He couldn’t even be sure schools would be open in New York in the fall, assuming they could get enough food to make it until then.
But Julie would be miserable and Alex just couldn’t do it to her. Not to her, not to Bri, not to himself. Besides, what if Papi or Mami came home, and he had no way of finding Julie?
“Thanks,” he said. “But we’ll manage. If it gets too bad, we’ll find someplace to go.”
Uncle Jimmy got up and hugged Alex hard. “You’re a good boy,” he said. “Isabella was always so proud of you, how-good you do in school. You’re not so tough, but you’re strong. We’ll be staying with Miguel Flores on East Eightieth Street. Maybe someday you’ll make it there, all of you.”
“My prayers are with you,” Alex said as he saw his uncle out. What was he doing, he asked himself, sending Bri into the arms of strangers and preventing Julie from going off with family?
Oh Mami, he cried silently. Papi. Come back. I’m more lost now than you are.
Tuesday, June 14
“Before we celebrate Mass, I have been instructed by the archdiocese to take a survey,” Father Mulrooney thundered. Alex remained impressed with how much sound could come out of such a thin body. “I want a show of hands. How many of you have been informed by your parents that you will be leaving New York City for good at the end of the school year?”
About a third of the boys raised their hands.
“Very well,” Father Mulrooney said. “How many have been told your families will be leaving New York City by September?”
Maybe another third raised their hands.
“Just to make sure that you’re listening,” Father Mulrooney said. “Raise your hands if you’ve been told you will not be returning to St. Vincent de Paul Academy next September. Seniors, raise your hands as well.”
So many hands went up, Alex began to fear he was the only student who intended to stay in the city.
“Now let me see a show of hands of those who have not been informed that they’re leaving New York,” Father Mulrooney instructed.
Alex reluctantly raised his hand. He was relieved to see at least some other hands go up. Some of them, he thought, probably would be gone also, but just didn’t know it. And under ordinary circumstances there would be a class of seventh graders to replace the seniors. So he doubted the accuracy of the numbers.
Were any of his friends among those planning to stay? Hands went down too fast for him to be sure. But then again, did he really have any friends? Or were they all like Danny O’Brien, friendly on the outside but cold where it counted?
At least with Chris I knew where I stood, Alex thought.
After Mass Kevin Daley sauntered up to him. “Hey, Morales,” he said. “I see you’re planning to stick around for a while.”
“That’s the plan,” Alex said as though he had plans.
“I’ll be here,” Kevin said.
“Great,” Alex said. At least he’d have one runty, cynical weasel to hang out with.
Wednesday, June 15
It had been four weeks since the asteroid had knocked the moon just a little closer to earth, four weeks of untold devastation and death. Four weeks since Alex had last heard from his parents and one day short of that since he’d last spoken to his brother.
He and Julie went to the evening Mass for the dead at St. Margaret’s. Two Masses in one day, he thought. Mami would be sure I had a vocation.
The church was full to overflowing. If other people there took comfort from the service, Alex couldn’t tell. Julie, he noticed, looked a little bored. And he felt nothing. It was easier that way.
Saturday, June 18
“I tried calling Uncle Jimmy,” Julie told Alex over what passed for lunch, half a can each of kidney beans, “to see if he had any food he could give us. But no one answered.”
“He’s gone,” Alex replied. “He and Lorraine took the kids. They’re hoping to get to Tulsa. They left a few days ago.”
“Oh,” Julie said.
“We’ll be fine,” Alex said, a shot of guilt piercing his heart. What had he condemned Julie to?
Julie pushed away her plate, even though there was still a forkful of food left on it. “No one says good-bye to me,” she said. “Bri spoke to Papi and you spoke to Carlos and Bri and Uncle Jimmy, but I didn’t get to speak to any of them.”
“You still hold that against me?” Alex asked. “That I didn’t wake you when Carlos called?” He longed to eat Julie’s remaining kidney beans. It would teach her a lesson if he did.
“At school they asked how many of us are coming back next year,” Julie said instead. “Most of the girls are leaving.”
“Same at Vincent de Paul,” Alex said. “But we’re staying. You and I aren’t going anywhere. Now7 finish your lunch.”
“Some lunch,” Julie grumbled, but she did as she was told.
What if we die? Alex asked himself. What if we starve to death, and something happens and Papi and Mami and Carlos and Bri all come back, only to find our dead bodies? Maybe it was the sheer awfulness of the thought, or maybe it was hunger, but Alex found himself laughing for the first time in weeks.
Sunday, June 19
Alex was sitting on the living room sofa, taking advantage of unexpected electricity on a Sunday afternoon to illuminate his Latin textbook. Finals began on Monday, and with Father Mulrooney teaching Latin, Alex was determined to ace the exam.
“Electricity really does make things easier,” he muttered to himself, but that was just the kind of statement that aroused Father Mulrooney’s scorn. Of course Father Mulrooney was so old, electricity probably hadn’t been invented when he first learned Latin. Most likely it was Julius Caesar who taught him his declensions.
Alex was picturing Father Mulrooney in a toga when he heard footsteps coming toward their apartment. For a second his heart stopped.
Julie raced from her bedroom. “Who could it be?” she cried.
Alex gestured for her to be quiet and go back to her room. Julie pouted for a moment then did as he told her.
There was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Alex called.
“Greg Dunlap,” a man replied. “Apartment twelve B.”
Oh God, Alex thought. They had a plumbing problem. He opened the door. “Mr. Dunlap,” he said, “I’m sorry my father hasn’t gotten around to making that repair. It’s just…”
“He never came back,” Mr. Dunlap said. “That’s been my guess. Am I right?”
Alex couldn’t come up with a reasonable lie, so he simply nodded.
“We’ve heard a lot of stories like that,” Mr. Dunlap said. “May I come in?”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “Please. We haven’t been getting a lot of visitors lately.”
“Are you all right?” Mr. Dunlap asked. “I should have checked up on you, since I knew Luis was in Puerto Rico, but things kept getting in the way. That’s how it is with good intentions. How is your family holding up? Have you heard from Carlos?”
Alex nodded. “He’s fine.”
“Good,” Mr. Dunlap said. “And your mother? Is she around? I’d like to speak to her.”
“She’s out right now,” Alex said. That wasn’t a lie exactly, and it was a lot easier than the truth.
“All right, then, I’ll di
scuss this with you,” Mr. Dunlap said. “Bob and I are leaving the city tomorrow for Vermont. We have friends there. The only thing that kept us here for this long is that we’ve been taking care of the cat in sixteen D. friends of ours live there and they were vacationing in Maui when it happened. They were due back that weekend, and we haven’t heard anything from them, so we just kept taking care of the cat. But this is ridiculous. We’re not going to die just so we can keep taking care of a cat for people who are… Well, they won’t be coming back. We gave them a month. We’ll take the cat with us.”
“So you won’t need the plumbing repair,” Alex said.
“Plumbing’s been the least of our problems,” Mr. Dunlap said. “You know7, I came home with that pizza and Bob was hysterical because he had the TV on, so he knew what happened. I didn’t. I just remember walking home thinking it was going to rain. That was the last happy moment in my life, maybe the last one ever. Anyway, I came down here so I could give you the keys to my apartment and to sixteen D. Bob and I have eaten most of their food, but there are still a few things left, and there’s stuff we’re not taking that maybe your family can use.” He handed Alex two sets of keys. “Bob says it’s better if the stuff goes to a Vincent de Paul man,” he said. “I hope it’ll help.”
“Yes, thank you,” Alex said. “We really appreciate this.”
“I guess you’re sticking around waiting for your father,” Mr. Dunlap said. “I know how hard it is to give up your home. But New York is in for some very bad times. Bob works for the Daily News, and naturally he hears things. It’s going to get very rough, and it won’t get better anytime soon. Maybe never. Tell your mother she should think about making other plans, at least for your sisters so they’ll be safe.”
“Yes, I will,” Alex said. “Thank you again, Mr. Dunlap, and thank Bob for us as well. I hope things work out in Vermont.”
“I’m not sure things are going to work out ever again,” Mr. Dunlap replied. “Sometimes the best you can do is postpone the inevitable. Please tell your mother that our thoughts are with her.”
“I will,” Alex said. “And thank you.”
As soon as he closed the door, Julie ran out of her bedroom. “Let me see,” she demanded as though two sets of keys were worth looking at. “Oh, Alex, can we go up to sixteen D now and get their food?”
“No,” Alex said. “Not until tomorrow. Besides, Mr. Dunlap said there isn’t much there.”
“Not much is better than nothing,” Julie said. “I don’t want to wait.”
Alex didn’t want to, either, since the only thing he’d eaten all day was half a can of chicken noodle soup, with half a can of mushrooms promised by Julie for supper. “Wait a second,” he said, and walked to his bedroom. He lifted the mattress from the upper bunk bed, and pulled out the two envelopes that held keys for apartment 11F and apartment 14J. If either of them had ever come back, they’d made no effort to contact Papi. And if they hadn’t come back, there might be food going to waste.
Was it stealing? Was it a sin? Alex thought it might be both. But Christ couldn’t want them to starve when there was food available.
He walked back into the living room, his hands shaking with excitement. There was no time to waste, since the electricity came and went.
“We’re going upstairs,” he told Julie. “Papi had keys for two apartments, and if the people there never came back, we’ll take their food.”
They ran into the hallway and pressed the button for the service elevator. It had gone up to the twelfth floor and took a moment to return.
“We’ll start with fourteen J,” he said. “I don’t know when they left or if they ever came back. We’ll ring their bell and give them a minute before we open their door. If they do, look cute and apologize. We’ll take the stairs to eleven F next. Okay?”
“Do you really think I’m cute?” Julie asked as they boarded the elevator.
“Compared to me,” Alex said. “And maybe Carlos.”
Julie giggled. She hadn’t laughed, Alex realized, since Bri had gone.
There was no one in the fourteenth-floor hallway. Alex and Julie walked over to apartment 14J. Alex willed himself to press the bell. They could hear it ring within the apartment, but there was no other sound.
“Can we go in now?” Julie pleaded.
“Let’s ring it one more time,” Alex said. He didn’t want to knock on their door, since the other people on the floor would hear that. He gave them thirty more seconds, which felt like an eternity, then used the keys to unlock the door.
He could sense right away that the apartment was empty and had been for a while. There was a thin layer of dust on the furniture and the air was stuffy and hot.
“Hello?” he said loudly enough for anyone in the apartment to hear him.
There was no answer.
“Now?” Julie asked.
“Now,” Alex said, and they walked into the kitchen.
Alex knew he shouldn’t have been, but he was startled at how beautiful the kitchen was. It must have been remodeled recently, he decided. It was strange seeing how much bigger the apartment was than their own, how much airier and lighter. Same building, but totally different lives.
Still, he was alive and so were his brother and sisters. Who knew if 14J could say the same.
He opened the side-by-side refrigerator and was accosted by the smell of rotting fruits and vegetables. “They’re gone,” he said. “Let’s take everything in the cabinets.”
“Everything?” Julie asked. “Look, Alex, there are Oreos!”
Alex grinned. “Oreos and everything else,” he said. He checked under the sink and found a box of trash bags. “Let’s start loading.”
“Maybe she has a shopping cart,” Julie said. “Like Mami.”
“Where would it be?” Alex asked.
Julie scurried to the coat closet, and came back with a folding cart.
Alex began loading food into the plastic bags. There were cans of tuna and salmon and sardines, two jars of herring in wine sauce, lots of cans of beans and soup, both of which he was tired of but he knew ultimately he’d be grateful for. There were jars of artichokes and hearts of palm.
“Saltines,” Julie said. “Look, Alex. Peanut butter. Look at all these different kinds of jams and jellies.”
“Not so loud,” Alex said, ramming boxes of weirdly shaped pasta into a bag. Searching the lower cabinets, he found two six-packs of bottled water, which he put into the bottom of the shopping cart.
“Pretzels,” Julie whispered as though Joan of Arc herself had materialized. “Hershey’s Kisses.”
Alex wished rich people ate more canned vegetables and fewer Hershey’s Kisses, but he had to admit it was exciting to see candy and cookies. He located a bag of puffed rice and a box of Cheerios and threw them into a bag. They’d eat weird, but they’d eat.
The wagon was full and the cabinets were empty. Alex handed the keys to their apartment to Julie. “Go back home with the cart,” he told her. “I’m going to try apartment eleven F. If I’m not back in half an hour, go there and see what’s happening.”
“Eleven F,” Julie repeated. “In half an hour.”
Alex escorted her to the service elevator, which hadn’t moved since they’d taken it. He thought about taking it for the three floors down, but decided it was safer to use the stairs.
He walked down the three flights of stairs, and rang the doorbell to 11F twice before using the keys to get in. He found the living room furniture covered with sheets, as though waiting for the walls to be painted.
He looked around quickly to confirm the apartment was empty, then went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Once again, he was assaulted by the glorious smell of rotten produce.
Having learned from Julie, he checked the hall closet and found a shopping cart waiting for him. He couldn’t locate shopping bags, so he used trash bags instead. 11F wasn’t too snobby to buy canned fruits and vegetables, he was delighted to discover. They had an especial
fondness for Le Sueur green peas and apricots in heavy syrup. The sight of two big jars of applesauce made him salivate. He’d almost forgotten how much he liked it.
They’d feast tonight, he thought, and the image of Bri flashed through his mind. Would he have been so quick to send her away if he’d known there was food in the building for them to eat?
Yes, he decided. Bri was better off where she was, and so was Julie. What seemed like a lot of food now would dwindle to nothing in a matter of weeks. All he was doing was postponing the inevitable, not that he knew what the inevitable would be.
He finished loading the garbage bags into the shopping cart and said a quick thank-you to 11F and to Christ for the food that would keep them alive that much longer. He dragged the cart into the hallway, relieved no one had noticed, and found Julie standing by the service elevator, keeping the door open.
“I thought this would be faster,” she whispered.
Alex grinned at her. “You’re smart as well as cute,” he said, and they began the ride down, back to a home with food.
Monday, June 20
“The archdiocese has requested me to inform the students at St. Vincent de Paul Academy that the school will remain open all summer long,” Father Mulrooney announced before Mass. “If the longing for academia is insufficient enticement, the archdiocese wishes you to know that lunch will be served daily.”
There was a murmur of excitement. Even Alex, who’d dined on pork and beans the night before, grinned. The lunches at school lately had mostly been canned vegetables and potatoes, but food was food.
“Nothing in life is free,” Father Mulrooney continued. “Those students who wish to attend the summer program will be required to participate in a social welfare activity. Assignments will be made, and the students are to do their work before arriving at school. No completed work assignment, no lunch. That is the quid pro quo.”
Alex spent most of the school day trying to decide whether he should skip suppers on days when he had lunch in school. He wanted Julie to eat more than once a day, but he wasn’t sure how to swing that.
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