ACROSS TOWN, NEVA Lyon held her twins by the hand as they waited in line at the Beautiful Day Mission near the Hudson River. Noah, as always, was a fidget machine, but Brie was quiet and calm. The seven-year-olds hadn’t eaten any real food for more than twenty-four hours, only the thin soup at the camp yesterday afternoon. For Neva, it was more like thirty-six hours. She was feeling weak—light-headed and desperate.
“Go to the mission,” people had said. “They have free food Friday nights.”
“Go early,” they added. “There’s always a line.”
For Neva and the twins, early meant arriving at six a.m. Even at that hour, they found themselves at the end of a huge winding queue. It had been a very long day. At seven p.m., the doors opened. Right on time.
It was another two hours until Neva and her kids even got close. At one point, Noah said he could smell grilled cheese, but Neva said it was just his imagination. Peanut butter and jelly would be more like it, she thought. Or oatmeal. Whatever was cheapest to make in vast quantities.
“Are we really getting food, Mommy?” said Brie, stuffing her small hands into her mother’s frayed pockets.
“I hope so, sweetie,” said Neva. “Just a little longer.”
They shuffled a few paces closer. A few yards ahead, Neva saw a family of five squeeze through the doors. She could already hear low murmuring from inside. Two more families ahead of them in line. Then it would be their turn. Neva leaned over and kissed the top of each twin’s head.
“Remember,” she said. “‘Please’ and ‘thank you.’”
The kids nodded.
“And when a grownup says, ‘Have a beautiful day,’ what do we say?”
“‘And you as well,’” said the kids in singsong twin unison.
One more family through. This was it. They were next!
The door opened again, but just a crack this time. A man in black overalls stared out from the inside. Behind him, Neva could see narrow tables arranged in long neat rows, family-style. The aroma of tomatoes and browned beef wafted out in a momentary tease. Noah and Brie tugged forward. But the door did not open any wider.
“Sorry,” the man said. “We’re full for tonight. Try next week.”
The metal door slid shut, followed by the sound of a heavy latch falling into place on the other side. Neva was stunned, then furious.
“Next week?” she shouted. “What do you mean, ‘next week’?” She pounded her fists on the door. A chorus of shouts rose from behind her. “Feed us! Feed us!” A second later, the crowd rushed forward in a fury. The strongest stayed on their feet. The weak were simply plowed under. Neva was crushed up against the metal door. She felt her children being ripped away from her in the frenzy. She heard Brie scream.
“Brie! Noah!” she shouted, barely able to turn her head.
Neva thrust her arms straight out, pushing away from the door with everything she had. Slowly, she muscled herself sideways through surging bodies toward the sound of her daughter’s voice.
“Brie! Noah!” she called again.
“Feed us! Feed us!” The chant grew in volume as it spread through the hundreds of people behind her, nearly drowning her out. She shoved her way past men twice her size, twisting this way and that, her eyes wide and searching. “Mommy!” Noah’s voice.
She saw them low to the ground, huddled together like stones in a stream as the crowd charged around them. With one final shove, Neva managed to duck down and grab her children.
“Stay with me!” she said, her arms tight around them.
Together, they half stumbled, half crawled to the edge of the crowd, until they broke free and collapsed on the fringe. The crowd milled around the front of the feeding center like a herd of crazed animals, shouting and pounding on the metal door.
“Can’t we eat tonight, Mommy?” asked Brie softly. Neva wiped a streak of dirt from her daughter’s face.
“Not right now, sweetie,” said Neva, and then, trying to put her best spin on it, “Who cares? It’s too crowded here anyway.”
They stood up and began the long walk back to their camp. Neva held her kids close. Somehow, she managed a hopeful smile and a squeeze for each of them.
“We can do better,” she said.