“I feel guilty eating when there are millions of people who are starving.” She held my expression like a ruthless queen, absorbing every single reaction I made with my features. My house was unnaturally quiet. The sounds of traffic couldn’t even be heard from outside. It felt like just the two of us in the known world.
“Starving yourself isn’t going to change anything.”
“I don’t starve myself. I just consume as little as possible so nothing goes to waste. There’s a difference.”
This was a tense subject. I could tell by the tightness of her shoulders and her jaw. Instead of speaking my mind, I had to tread carefully. “You grew up hungry.” I didn’t phrase it as a question because that would feel like an interrogation. I would put my curiosity on the table and leave the door open, inviting her to elaborate or end the discussion altogether. Her mystery and majesty intrigued me, obsessed me, but I wanted her to confide in me because she wanted to, not because she was pressured to.
“Sometimes, I was locked in a basement without food or water for days. The longest I’ve ever gone is five.”
I held her gaze but immediately felt my spine prickle with destruction. A kind of pain I’d never experienced washed through me, burning me with satanic fire. My sympathy only extended so far, but with her, she took all of it. She told me not to pity her, but I did. I felt terrible for her, so bad that I wanted to do everything I could to fix it. I wanted to buy her a new apartment, a car so she wouldn’t have to take the subway, and anything else she could possibly want.
“When you’re hungry for so long, you stop feeling hunger. It’s a relief, but it’s also the moment when your body starts to feed on itself, cannibalizing your muscles for energy. You barely have enough strength to move, let alone think. It’s the most terrifying and humbling experience anyone can ever know. It makes you understand just how fragile you are, that you’re susceptible to something everyone else takes for granted.”
I hadn’t blinked once. The pain in my chest was impossible to understand. I didn’t feel sympathy for other people, not after what I’d experienced. People always thought they understood true suffering, but their problems were always petty. But with Rome, I’d met my match.
“You’re doing it again.”
I didn’t look away. “Doing what?” My voice came out weak, and I didn’t clear my throat. The weakness escaped, and I couldn’t hide it.
“You feel bad for me.”
“How can I not?” I would have to be dead to feel nothing.
“Because I’m one of the lucky ones.” Her voice grew strong once again, full of life and vibrancy. “I got out of that situation, and now I’m free. I have access to food and water whenever I need it, and there’s not a single person in the world who can deprive me of it. Most people don’t get out. Most people don’t survive. But I did. So don’t look at me like that anymore. Please.”
I rested my hand on the table but couldn’t break my gaze. And I certainly couldn’t change the way I felt. “You’re asking me to do something that I can’t do. I’m sorry.”
“Just don’t think about it.” She pushed her empty plate off to the side then sipped her wine. She finally broke eye contact with me, staring at the surface of the table.
“Was Christopher in that basement with you?”
“No. He was in a different basement in a different place. We met once we were placed in the same foster care. I was fifteen, and he was sixteen. We understood each other from the moment we met. Everyone has their own unique hardship, but ours were strangely similar. We decided we were family, brother and sister. And when families came to adopt us, we said we were a pair. If you wanted one of us, you had to have both.”
The story was fascinating, but I wished it wasn’t true. “I noticed he doesn’t eat much either.”
“He had it worse than I did. He was locked in his basement for a whole week.”
How Christopher was so warm and fun was beyond me. Both of them were unnaturally strong and kind. Without knowing about their pasts, I wouldn’t have guessed it. It was a miracle they got through it, let alone escaped with their minds intact. “After that, everything was okay?”
“No.” She shook her head. “The man who adopted us seemed normal in the beginning. But once the social workers stopped checking on us because they assumed we were in a good home, his true colors came out. When we were both eighteen, we ran away and started our new lives.”
I couldn’t bear to hear any more of this story. Knowing she starved alone inside a dark basement was enough to make me snap. I couldn’t handle any more of it. I’d assumed I was devoid of all emotion, unsympathetic to anyone and anything, but she proved how wrong I was. “I’m sorry for my behavior at the food drive.” Now I understood why she was so upset. I understood I crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed.