by Rose, Aubrey
The limo stopped in front of a drab stone building three stories tall. All of the windowsills heaped high with snow, and I wrapped myself up again as best as I could before stepping out of the limo cab. It wasn’t enough. The cold pierced through to my skin, and even my best boots couldn’t keep out the iciness of the snow-covered sidewalk. My toes felt instantly numb.
The driver waited patiently by my side until, blushing, I scrambled in my pocket for a tip. I only had American money, not having thought to transfer any at the airport, so I gave him a dollar. He tucked it into his pocket unceremoniously, got into the limo, and drove away, leaving me standing in front of the building.
“This better be the right place,” I said, looking up at the apartments. Almost a week early, I would be staying by myself until the other students arrived. I didn’t mind solitude, and actually looked forward to exploring Budapest on my own, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit scared by the easy manner in which the limo driver had left me alone in an unfamiliar city. The street seemed dead, eerily quiet, and the top window of the building had been broken, the glass cracked in a hard, shattered star.
The wind whipped through my hoodie, and I slung my bag up over my shoulder, marching quickly up the outside stairs. The key turned in the lock, and I pushed it open, stepping inside. The door slammed shut behind me and I felt something scurry under my feet. I dropped my bag, the keys went scattering across the old wood floor, and I screamed.
The small furry creature darted behind the interior stairs, and I gasped as I threw myself backwards against the closed door behind me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. The light inside shone dimly, and I couldn’t see enough to make out what it was. Maybe a rat? I shuddered. Sometimes rats would invade my Nagy’s house to get at the pantry, and I hated the way their beady eyes looked knowingly at me as they scurried away with our food. Adrenaline made my heart pound.
Taking off one boot as a defensive weapon, I moved farther inside, trying to see underneath the rickety stairs. My breath still blew white—the heaters must not have gotten turned on yet, and it was almost as freezing inside as it had been outside, except for the chill of the wind. I could see the animal under the staircase, its ratty gray fur moving with its breaths. I stepped closer to the staircase, holding my boot above my head, ready to bring it down on the creature.
“Meow!”
I stopped with my boot still in my hand. A cat? Too small to be a cat. I squinted, and as I was debating what to do it poked its head out and meowed again at me. I got a good look at it—just a kitten, and a ragged one at that. It had a light gray coat, marred in places by burrs and scratches, and its whiskers trembled as it looked out at me.
I sat back and laughed, all of the tension running out of my system. A damn kitten! My foot was beginning to turn numb from the cold, so I shoved my boot back on. I leaned forward, holding my hand out in goodwill.
“Here, kitty, kitty. Here, sweetheart.”
The kitten hissed, its fur standing up on its back.
“Don’t be scared.” I stopped, my hand hovering in the air. My fingers got colder by the second.
The kitten’s fur relaxed, but it stepped back, still wary.
“Here, kitty.”
Kitty had white mittens tipping his gray coat, and a white pointed diamond on his forehead, just between his ears. It looked like a large white snowflake had landed on the middle of his head and stuck. One ear, torn and healed over, flicked from the front to the side. Both of his ears looked too big for his head.
The kitten hissed again, but this time less assuredly.
For whatever reason, I was determined to make this animal my friend. He was the first native I had met in Hungary, and I wanted to make a good impression. I dug through my duffel bag until I found my sandwich. Peeling off the last piece of salami, I tossed it at the foot of the staircase. The kitty immediately perked up his ears and widened his eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh again. He looked like a bat with such giant kittenish ears, the one ragged ear flicking repeatedly toward the food.
“Come on kitty,” I said. “I won’t hurt you.” I kissed the air until he came forward from behind the staircase.
“See,” I said as he sniffed the salami and began to lick it. “It’s food.”
He knew it was food, too. He sat down on his thin haunches and began to tear at the salami until it was shredded by his tiny teeth, clutched between his paws. He ate ravenously.
My smile turned off when I recognized the cause of the rapidity with which he ate. He was starving.
I knew what that was like. More children know starvation than you might think, but most of the other children couldn’t eat because their families were poor. I knew part of that with my Nagy, once my father abandoned me to her. His wife didn’t want any of her money going to feed me, and my grandmother found it hard to stay steadily employed with only her needlework and tailoring.
I had learned to turn off my appetite when it was needed. When my friends and I had gone on field trips to amusement parks, I would smile and laugh and watch the other children buy ten dollar lunches, claiming I had eaten a huge breakfast and then drinking lots of water. Water would fill my stomach, swell it out so that it looked like a normal teenage girl, or approximately that. Sometimes people would be kind and offer me some of their food.
“Here, have some of my fries. I can’t eat them all.”
Oh, to be so full that you didn’t want to eat french fries! What that must have felt like! Whenever I had the opportunity, I ate. Who knew when the next time would come? At buffets, I stuffed myself until I was overfull, and the binging way I ate ruined any chance at healthiness.
I had rituals with food, and every food had its own special way of being eaten. Cookies I would dip three at a time in a glass of milk, so that the third one had almost turned to mush by the time I got to it. Sandwiches I nibbled around the edges, saving the middle, uncrusted part, for last. Broccoli I munched the heads off of first, then sliced the stems into little cubes that I ate with a fork, like peas. Coffee I would sip even while it was burning hot, just to feel the way it trickled down my throat to my stomach and warmed me from the inside out.
Chocolate—oh, chocolate. I would smell the chocolate in my fingers, letting the warmth of my hand melt it slightly and deliver an intoxicating aroma to my nose. My tongue licked the side of the chocolate bar, tasting it first before placing it directly on the middle of my tongue, pressing it to the top of my palate and inhaling again, savoring the taste for as long as I could before it melted away. God, chocolate. Both my downfall and my salvation, chocolate could tempt angels to sin, if sin involved eighty percent or more of cacao.
Before that, though, I knew hunger for a different reason than poverty. My fake family was rich, but they starved me of love, and a single word from their lips could shrivel my appetite, and did.
Now I watched the kitten lick the taste of the salami from the floor, and I wished I had more to give him.
“I’m sorry, kitty,” I said, holding out a hand in apology. The kitten, tamed by his desire for food, padded quickly over to my hand and licked it questioningly. I let my fingers stroke his tiny head, his ragged ear. My thumb brushed over the snowflake pattern between his ears. A soft purring filled the space between us.
“You’re a lucky kitty,” I said. “It’s good luck I found you here.” I looked up at the dimly lit stairs. “Kind of lonely here, huh?”
The kitten skidded away from me when I stood up, but he stayed close at my heels as I picked up my bag and walked through the rooms to explore. It didn’t take long. The upstairs and downstairs had been built with the same layout, two rooms each, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette between. Each room had six bunk beds in it, two on each wall. I poked my head into the bathroom. Just a dingy shower, a sink, a toilet. One bathroom for twelve people? I shuddered.
The air in the rooms was stale and frigid, and I couldn’t find any kind of thermostat for the radiators. I considered calling Eliot—I had his numbe
r—but he was probably at his dinner with his brother. I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I tried to turn the stove on, thinking I might just leave the oven open for warmth. The pilot light flickered but the flames sputtered dead within a few seconds—gas must be off. I yawned. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to sleep. Dim light shone through the window, but I was exhausted from the plane rides.
I returned to the bedroom I had somewhat claimed as mine—the only one with a small window that you could look out of from the top bunk. I put on another two layers of shirts, but that was all that would fit under my tight hoodie. I put on another pair of socks, and the thin gloves that had protected me through the California winter, and sweatpants over my normal jeans. My teeth still chattered and my nose ran like nothing else.
“Meow!”
“Come here, kitty,” I said, extending my hand. The kitten just sat in the middle of the doorway, watching me.
“Fine, then.” I said. I pulled two blankets off of the beds. I touched the radiator, but it was just lukewarm with water inside, probably just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. Oh well, better than nothing. I swaddled myself in blankets and leaned up next to the tepid radiator, sniffing all the while.
The kitten padded over across the room curiously. I let one finger slide out from under the blanket and his ears perked up, his thin, fuzzy tail swishing behind him. He pounced on my hand and bit my glove harmlessly.
“I’m going to call you Lucky. Is that okay, Lucky?” I petted him with my free hand, but he continued to gnaw at my finger, his back paws kicking at my arm playfully.
“Good,” I said. “Then it’s settled.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, petting Lucky as my eyelids drooped lower.
“Good kitty,” I said, and then I was asleep.
I woke up in darkness, not knowing where I was for a moment. The light from the window outside had dimmed to nothing, and the bunk beds around me loomed menacingly like monsters from a bad dream. The air was freezing cold. I blinked, my heart racing, and then I heard a faint purring from my lap. I looked down. Lucky had curled up in the crook of my arm and slept soundly, his white paws tucked under his small gray body.
“Good kitty,” I mumbled, petting him with one hand. My fingers ached with the cold, and as I stood up carefully with Lucky in my arms I felt all of my joints cry out with the same chilly ache. I put Lucky down on the bed and checked my phone, my teeth already starting to chatter. In the darkness of the room my phone shone brightly, and I could see puffs of my breath coming out over the small screen.
It was ten o’clock. I didn’t want to disturb Eliot if I didn’t have to, but at the same time I didn’t want to get hypothermia on my first day in Hungary. My muscles twitched with cold. I switched the ceiling light on and squinted in the sudden brightness.
“What should I do, Lucky?” I sat down on the bed next to him and he stretched his paws out on my lap, kneading my thigh with his tiny claws. I scratched behind his ears and he wriggled with happiness, then bit down hard my finger.
“If I have to get another tetanus shot because of you, I’m never giving you salami again,” I said.
“Meow?”
“Okay,” I said. I put down the phone in my lap and took a deep breath. When I picked it up to dial the number, my fingers were shaking, whether with cold or nerves I didn’t know. Eliot picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Um, Dr. Herceg?”
“Brynn!” His voice sounded so warm and inviting that at first I couldn’t speak. In the background, I could hear laughter and the sounds of people eating. I swallowed hard and coughed.
“Um, I’m here. Got in a few hours ago.”
“Oh, how wonderful! I can’t tell you how glad I am that you made it.” My heartstrings vibrated with his words. “How are you? Did you find the apartments alright? I haven’t been over there yet myself, still at this nonsense dinner.”
“It’s… uh, it’s really cold.”
“Much colder than California, that’s certain!”
“Um, is there—is there any way to turn the heater on?”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you. One second.” The background noises grew quieter and then I heard Eliot again. “What’s that? The heater?”
“Um, yeah. The heater isn’t on, and I—”
“The heater isn’t on? Brynn, you must be freezing? Are you still in the apartments?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“My god.” Eliot swore, and I heard him speak to someone at the party, this time in Hungarian. They talked back and forth and then Eliot was back on the line.
“Brynn, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll be by as soon as I can.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll be right there, don’t worry.” He paused, as though about to say something else, but then changed his mind. “See you soon.”
“See you,” I said. The phone went dark in my hand.
I patted Lucky on the head.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be okay.”
Lucky purred contentedly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eliot threw down his napkin on the table.
“I have to be off,” he said.
“So soon? The party isn’t even started yet!” His brother clapped him on the back. “Eliot, I’m throwing this for your honor. The guest of honor can’t leave halfway through the party!”
“You will have to do without me,” Eliot said. “This is urgent.”
“Urgent?” His brother leaned close. “Anything I can help with?”
“No, nothing like that,” Eliot said. “Just a mix-up with the academy apartments for the interns.” He pulled his arms hastily through his coat and shrugged it over his shoulders.
“The one arriving today?” his brother asked.
“Yes.”
“The girl?”
Eliot looked up at his brother in exasperation. “I’ve told you—”
“And I saw that special look in your eye when you were talking about her.”
“No special look.”
“Eliot, why not?”
He shook his head.
“Eliot, you deserve to be happy.”
“She’s a student.”
Otto stood up and pulled his brother into a warm embrace. “Forget everything else. Really. You deserve to be happy. Eliot—”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let your head get in the way of your heart,” Otto said. He smiled and turned away, back to the other party guests.
Eliot couldn’t get his brother’s words out of his head, but there was nothing for it. He had promised not to get too close—he didn’t want to interfere with the internship and all that went with it. Brynn seemed fragile, and he shied away from reaching out to her. He didn’t want to break another fragile thing. He pushed his way across the room, past the guests who were chattering happily and dancing to the music.
Eliot froze as he looked across the room. One of the women was dancing; he could not see her face, but he knew by the way the limbs moved that it was Clare, her red hair flashing as she spun in place. His heart ached as he watched her white skin, her slender arms twirling.
“Clare,” he whispered.
“Whoops, sorry!” Another guest bumped into Eliot, almost spilling a drink on him. Eliot helped the man find his balance, and then turned back to the dance floor. The woman dancing in the middle of the crowd was not Clare, she was older, she did not look anything like Clare.
“Sorry about that,” the man said. “Say, are you alright? You’re Otto’s brother, yes?”
“I have to go,” Eliot said, and turned to leave. He looked back once more from the entryway, but he could not find the ghost he had seen dancing. Stop it, Eliot, he thought. Stop it. She is gone.
Eliot jumped into his car and drove as quickly as he could stand to until he reached the apartments. Parking in an empty space on the str
eet, he hopped out of the car and locked it. The building looked smaller than he remembered it, less well-kept. He took the stairs two at a time and rapped his knuckles on the door.
She opened the door in front of him, and it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms. She looked miserable, her nose red and runny, her eyes bleary with sleep. There was a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she seemed to be bundled up in all manner of odd clothing. With all this, though, she still beamed when she saw him, and he felt his heart lunge forward, wanting to take her into his embrace.
“El—Dr. Herceg,” she said. “You didn’t have to come, really.”
“Of course I did,” he said, walking past her into the building and taking in the rooms with astonishment. This was where his interns were expected to live? They had added in so many beds. The rooms were cramped with furniture.
“This is absurd,” he said. “I don’t—” He stopped when he saw Brynn shivering under the blanket and realized that the room was freezing. He hadn’t noticed with the rush of adrenaline pumping through him, but now that he paused he saw his breath come out white and steamy in the air. “Brynn, you’re freezing!” He tore off his coat and pulled it around her, forgetting his promise to himself not to get too close. He simply couldn’t help it. Brynn let her blanket fall to the ground and put her arms through his coat, wrapping it around her. A fury ran through him as he rubbed her arms briskly to warm them.
“B-but,” she said, her teeth still chattering. “You’ll freeze without it.”
“Never mind me,” he said. “That damned landlady. The heat should have been on, I told her that you were coming…”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Really, it’s okay.”
She waited patiently as he dialed the landlady and paced across the floor. He heard the phone ring on the other end four, then five times before going to the answering machine. He swore and hung up. He had no way to get to the heater, no way to make things right…
