that this event is so getting bigger and bigger. It’s not just another food night, with a movie screen, it’s an event. Kyra and her team are seen as saviors. I see now how and why the city supports the underdog.
Yvette is here with her kids who are both helping. They end up on the table next to me. “Is it okay if they go here?” Yvette asks me timidly, as if I might bite. “They want to help and Kyra said it would be okay.”
She always looks so haggard, like a shell of a woman, and I get scared that if I accidentally brush past her, I’ll knock the life out of her.
“There’s plenty of room for more helpers.” I shift and leave a gap for them. Simona is on my right, and then Yvette and her girl and boy are on the other side. Because the tables are longer, there is a whole line of helpers this time and there is a lot more food.
There’s even some music. Music? “Where the heck is that coming from—” And then I see that the screen has come on. A cheer goes out from the crowd.
“I’ve never seen them so animated.” Simona beams as if she’s glowing with happiness, as if these are her children getting ready to watch a movie. I do not understand this … connection …this empathy.
The people who set up the movie screen also put up a few lights around the place so we’re not in complete darkness. I scour the crowd and see Kyra moving through and talking to people standing in line. She’s acting as if they are lining up for summer camp, and she’s obviously not worried about catching anything.
“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Simona catches me staring as I put a dollop of pasta on someone’s plate.
“Doesn’t she ever get scared?”
“Scared of what?” Her tone suggests that my question is stupid.
“That someone might turn on her? Do something scary, or stupid or both?”
She looks at me aghast. “These aren’t people on death row, Brad. These people are hungry.”
I lift a hand to the back of my neck, feeling foolish. Kyra seems to have always been aware of the suffering of others, because her mom highlighted it to her. Not because she had to live it. It’s admirable. It makes what I am, what I have become, seem all the more lousy in comparison. I’m supposed to know better, but somewhere along the line I lost the ability to empathize.
“We’re going to need more crackers,” says Simona. “More water bottles too.”
“I’ll get them.”
I busy myself, and everything comes together. Everyone works like one large, well-oiled and efficient machine.
The crowd is growing bigger. It’s way bigger than the usual Wednesday night one. I, for one, am relieved that we have security. Tonight’s fight is at an earlier time than usual. I wonder if it’s because Cardoza has managed to get the networks to show it earlier, because these people wouldn’t wait all night for it. Surely he can’t wield that much power?
Everything seems to be going according to plan. The line of people slowly worms across the length of the tables. A constant murmur of “Thank you” fills the silence as we serve.
“There you go.” Simona’s voice is chirpy and cheerful as she doles out food. Yvette disappears to refill a food container. I glance over at her kids. They seem shy and quiet, handing out cereal bars and crackers, but avoiding eye contact with the people they are serving. The boy looks young … almost like … I bury the thought, even as guilt ricochets off my chest. For a second, I struggle to breathe.
I look away and stare at the screen in relief. There’s a fight going on, but it’s not the main one. People take the food and walk away, sitting on pieces of cardboard, on sleeping bags, on bags, watching it.
It’s impossible for me to watch anything properly because the line for food keeps growing. Every few seconds, I have to put some food on someone’s plate. Or refill the containers, or relieve someone else who wants to take a break. Fredrich comes over later and asks me if I want to trade places. I tell him I’m okay.
Kyra walks past, asking all of us if we need anything, if any of us want to take a break or help out with something else. Everyone seems content.
After an hour has passed, the line of people has dwindled. A cheer goes up