Miguel and Luisa were lovely people. Mr. and Mrs. Turcotte knew that. They knew how kind Miguel and Luisa had been in caring that they had food. They hadn’t been able to have any children. They had no one to help them make food once the prices rose astronomically in the fast food restaurants and groceries stores.
Mr. and Mrs. Turcotte didn’t have a lot to give. Mr. Turcotte had to stay home. No one would hire him anywhere, not when he couldn’t see, smell, or hear anything, so he spent his time doing the laundry. It gave him a purpose.
Mrs. Turcotte was also blind, but worked down the street as a teller at a bank. She greeted every person that came inside and knew everyone from just the sound of their voice. When someone handed her any amount of cash, she knew whether it was going to be short before it was even counted. Intuition, she would say.
Even though Mrs. Turcotte had this disability, there were still things that needed to be done in her household. Mr. Turcotte was already doing the laundry, and she could handle the cleaning, but how would they eat now, when they couldn’t even buy a frozen meal?
Miguel and Luisa started selling apricots at a bus stop Mrs. Turcotte walked by every day. The third day Mrs. Turcotte walked by her stomach growled loudly, as if anticipating the smell of the sweet fruit. Miguel asked Mrs. Turcotte if she wanted to try one of the apricots. She tasted the fruit, and by the time there was nothing but a pit, she was licking her fingers clean. Starving, with nothing to offer, Mrs. Turcotte asked what she could give instead of money for more. Luisa mentioned wanting a better way to clean their clothes, especially after being in the fields all day.
So, Miguel and Luisa, the neighbors from across the street, started to come over for dinner every night to make Mr. and Mrs. Turcotte food. Mrs. Turcotte would go to the bank, and when the laundry basket got full, Mr. Turcotte would do the laundry. He never complained, never even indicated that he could tell that the basket filled up faster. He just kept folding until there was nothing left to fold.
Miguel and Luisa were lovely people, who created even more lovely children, and the food and voices inside the kitchen grew just as much as the laundry did. Mr. Turcotte still didn’t say a word.
One day, people showed up to take Miguel and Luisa away. The laundry got lighter again, but Mr. Turcotte didn’t mention a change. The children were making the food now, so he didn’t fret. Their parents were always lovely people. They would be missed.
After a few weeks, the children had cooked all the food that was left. There parents had never taught them how to grow more for themselves. So, with nothing to offer, the children left.
The night after Miguel and Luisa’s children disappeared, Mrs. Turcotte hid in the bathroom, crying to herself, while Mr. Turcotte sat at the dinner table and asked, “Where’s the food, dear?”