Way Down I'll Go

For Love and Money

Jo sat with his head against the wall, trying to breathe. Pain and hunger warred for his attention, but he had time to focus on neither. Sammy's howls had risen to new heights, and Drew sat wailing on the floor, having worked himself up to the point of wheezing. 

For a moment, Jo thought about running away. 

He quickly pushed that thought away, ashamed for his selfishness, and made his way to the kitchen.

There wasn't enough formula left to make a full bottle, but he made one anyway, thinking something would be better than nothing. As the water warmed, he climbed onto the counter, ignoring the worsening pain in his ribs, and dug out the last of his food reserves from an obscured part of the cupboard. Two packs of stale saltine crackers, a mostly empty jar of peanut butter, and a third of a granola bar that had turned rock hard. His stomach clenched and growled at the sight of food, but he ignored it, pushed back the dizziness, and climbed back down, tightly clutching those last treasures.

Once the bottle was prepared, he brought the food to the sobbing children, picking up Sammy first and introducing the watered down milk to his lips. It took a few minutes for the baby to calm down enough to eat, but once he did, he sucked ravenously. Jo turned his attention to Drew, who amazingly had been able to keep up the same pitch of wailing for quite some time. He slid the child over to himself with his free arm and held him against his chest. After a few minutes, the wails turned to whimpers.

"Look Drew, there's food." He pointed to the meager display of dried out rations.

Drew wasted no time tearing into the crackers. Jo scraped the remaining peanut butter off the sides of the jar, allowing Drew to suck it off his finger. He had softened the granola bar in the microwave and it was now edible, if only just. The meal disappeared in seconds, but Drew no longer cried. His reddened face turned to Jo, tear tracks still visible.

"Still hungy, JoJo," he whined.

"I know, Drew, but that's it for tonight. If you go to sleep, there'll be more when you wake up." 

He hoped.

With everything edible in the house completely gone, the little ones were satisfied enough to be coaxed into sleep. Jo laid them down tenderly and wracked his brain for options. He didn't want to leave his brothers in case his dad returned, but it looked as if he had no choice. There simply wasn't any food left, and he knew better than to expect his dad to bring any.

That was how he found himself in a downtown alley at nine o'clock on a Friday night, digging through garbage bags that hadn't quite made it into the nearby dumpster.

"You hungry, boy?"

The voice startled Jo so much that he dropped the box of his finds. Trembling, he stared at the man who'd spoken, frozen in his tracks.

"How old are you?" 

Jo didn't reply. His eyes flicked between the man and the box, wondering how he could get away and still keep the leftovers he'd gathered.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." 

The man sat on the step of the doorway near the dumpster, cigarette resting between his fingers. He seemed relaxed and calm, but Jo knew that could change in an instant.

"Look, if you're hungry, there's plenty of food inside. It tastes a whole lot better, too."

The mention of food brought a roaring growl from his stomach. The man smiled.