BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU HUNGER FOR

“ Be Careful What You Hunger For”

Hunger, what a subjective word. I used to think it was only for food but then I grew up.

There was never enough food when I was a kid. You’ve heard that story a million times, I’m sure. Poor kid, parents were losers, Mom an alcoholic and Dad was on any drug he could get his hands on. If they grew up in a big city in a bad neighborhood you wouldn’t think twice about it, I grew up on a farm in Nebraska. You’re probably thinking I just made this up but honest it’s the truth. I was one of four boys you can ask any one of them what it was like, if they are still alive. Our parents were derelicts, but it took social services years before they did anything. I wonder now was that a good or bad thing. Anyway, someone must have turned my parents in, a neighbor the school. We hardly ever went to school and when we did, we were dressed in rags and surely looked like we were starving, which is by the way we were.

At the time we looked forward to being taken away from our parents. Anything had to be better than this, we thought. We were wrong, at least I was. We were separated and put in different foster homes. My hunger was now taking on a new dimension. I hungered for my brothers, so now not only my stomach ached but my heart as well.

You probably already guessed I became the stereotype of a foster kid, always in trouble, fighting in school, stealing and lying. I think I was in five homes and by the age of sixteen I had enough and ran away. I had stolen some money; it was getting so easy now this life of petty crime. I decided I had to get as far away from Nebraska as possible. I started hitch hiking and ended up getting rides with crazy truck drivers. Cars with families never stopped by now I was looking and smelling quite ratty. After a couple of weeks, I ended up in New York City. The truck driver gave me some tips on survival and dropped me off in front of Penn Station. Survival in New York you pick up early. Lesson number one find a warm place to sleep, thank you subways and easy money from begging on the street. It helped that I was young and despite looking run down I was told I was a good-looking kid and shouldn’t have a problem making money. I wasn’t quite sure what they meant by that, but I was to learn shortly. I realized the best place to pan handle was in subway entrances near ritzy addresses. Wealthy people tip more as it makes them feel less guilty I guess for having so much.

Every few days I noticed the same woman walking by with her little pooch. She was quite fancy dressed in what looked to me like expensive clothes. Hell, her pooch was dressed better than me. On some days a man would be walking with her, and I got the sense he was looking at me very closely. About a month or so later the woman came by and stopped in front of me. She had always left at least a twenty-dollar bill in my hat but today she looked like she wanted to talk to me. She told me her name, but I had a hard time pronouncing it, it sounded like geese land , she had an accent, so it made it doubly hard for me. She said I looked hungry and cold which I was and if I wanted, she would buy me lunch at the deli. What is she kidding? I said yes, not faltering for a second. A free meal, what luck. I certainly didn’t see any harm to this after the life I had been living over the last couple of months. We sat down in a booth, and I ordered doubles of everything. She just sat and drank coffee and started making small talk. You know where you are from, what my parents did, did they know where I was that kind of stuff. When she asked my age and I said sixteen her smile got bigger. She said if I ever was really hungry, not everyday mind you but if I was desperate, I could go to her apartment building and tell the doorman I was delivering a package for the Mermelsteins.This arrangement went on for over a month. The doorman would talk to someone over the intercom, and I would be met by the maid who would hand me a bag of food. Sometimes the man I saw the Geese lady walking with. I never could pronounce his name ,would meet me at the door and hand me the food. I felt a little like a dog don’t ask me why. Always knowing where to find food from its master.

One day Mermelstein’s ,invited me into the kitchen to eat my lunch. He seemed really nice and like the Geese lady he started asking me a lot of questions about my family, I hadn’t heard from any of them including my brother since I ran away and social services sure didn’t have time to look for a trouble making sixteen-year-old. He asked me if I would like a job, maybe eventually get a place of my own, you know normal stuff. Sure, I said, but who would hire me. Mr.Mermelsteins said he would take a chance to hire me. He said he had a home on Long Island, and he needed a pool boy. “Wow yes.” I spoke. I didn’t really know what a pool boy did but after working on a farm it couldn’t have been too difficult. He told me to gather whatever I owned and he and Miss.G would drive me out to Long Island, and I would stay at his home.

I felt like I died and went to heaven.

I had never seen this part of New York hell I had barely left the subway. We drove to a place called East Hampton. It was a pretty little town with expensive little stores, no Walmart here. The people didn’t look like Walmart shoppers either. As the chauffeur, Max turned down a long

winding road with beautiful trees on either side I realized it wasn’t a road it was their driveway and up ahead was this mansion and beyond the mansion the Ocean. Holy cow I said to myself. Max left Miss. G and Mr.Memelsberg or Memelstein whatever was his name off at the front entrance. Mr.M looked in the back seat and told me Max would drive me to my sleeping quarters. He said I didn’t start work until the am, but he wanted me to join them for dinner so he could review some of my duties. He said to take my time have a nice hot shower and try on my uniform which Max would lay out for me. Miss G. winked at me and said I could start calling Mr. M Teddy from now on. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Max drove me to a cottage on the property and said he would be back in a hour to drive me to the main house for dinner. I walked into the cottage, bigger than my home growing up. I couldn’t believe any of this. A huge bathtub with all kinds of fancy soaps and creams. I must have stayed in that tub for an hour. The first bath I had taken other than standing in front of fire hydrant in months. Max knocked on the door and told me to hurry up my uniform was on the bed. I looked at a pair of red shorts and shirt lying on the bed. They looked kind of skimpy but I was the pool boy, probably have to get in the pool for cleaning and stuff like that so it kind of made sense. I put on the shorts they felt a little tight. I slid on the gold flip flops that lay on the floor. This outfit was really weird, but you know rich people. They are different than the folks in Nebraska.

Max walked me to the pool and there was Miss.G and Teddy having drinks and dressed in very uh, revealing bathing suits. I guess they were bathing suits. They didn’t leave much to the imagination if you know what I mean. They asked me to sit down, not easy in these tight shorts and he offered me a glass of champagne. I was nervous so when he offered the second glass I gulped it down. It tasted slightly different than the first. The next thing I remembered was that I was in the pool with Miss. G and Teddy and we were all laughing and splashing water on each other. But then I felt my shorts fall off, oh no I must have busted them but no, someone’s hands were pulling them off.

Oh Lord, what had I gotten myself into.