Not Perfect(27)

They took the elevator down and walked to the car without anyone saying a single thing. Tabitha plugged the address into Waze, and suddenly they weren’t alone anymore as the woman’s voice gently told them which way to go. They ended up somewhere in Kensington and finally turned into what looked like an abandoned parking lot of what might be, or might have once been, a school. As soon as Tabitha pulled into a spot and put the car in park, Levi opened the door.

“Whoa,” Tabitha said. “You have to wait until I turn the car off. You know that.”

Levi pulled the door shut again, but not all the way. Tabitha thought about telling him to close it properly but really, she didn’t plan to move anymore. She waited five seconds, she wasn’t sure why, then turned off the car.

“Okay,” she said. “You’re good to go.”

Levi got out and walked toward a big door that looked like it was anything but open. He pulled, but it didn’t budge.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes,” he said, annoyed. He pulled out his phone and read something, probably an email from Nancy, Nancy, Nancy, before heading around to the other side of the building without a word. They followed him, and sure enough, there was another big metal door, propped open with someone’s old flip-flop. Tabitha wasn’t at all certain about this, but Levi pushed the door right open, and they found themselves in a big, industrial kitchen. They just stood there as people moved around them, cleaning dozens of green peppers and sautéing something that looked like a mixture of rice and tomatoes in two big pans on the stove. Suddenly, Levi looked like an unsure little kid again, and something snapped in Tabitha.

“Is Nancy here?” she asked the man at the stove.

“That way,” he said, pointing toward a door. Now Tabitha led the way, and Levi followed, head down slightly, shuffling. Fern was in the back, extra slow. They walked into the school cafeteria, where the big round tables were covered with tablecloths and the places were set. A woman with short dark hair was placing tiny vases of fresh flowers in the center of each table.

“Nancy?” Tabitha asked.

“That’s me!” she said, looking at them, and Tabitha worried briefly that she might not know if they were a family in need or volunteers. Nancy looked at Tabitha’s shoes, then at Levi, and walked over, hand out.

“You must be Levi,” she said. “I am so happy to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Levi said, shyly, but he took her hand and looked her in the eyes. “I’m happy to be here.”

Then she looked at Fern.

“Are you the little sister? Dragged along I bet,” Nancy said in an especially nice way. She really seemed to have a way with people. Fern perked up.

“That’s me!” she said in almost the exact same way Nancy had said it a moment before, and Tabitha was surprised by her comic timing. They all laughed a little.

“And I’m Tabitha,” she said, reaching out her hand. “Thanks for letting Levi do his bar mitzvah project with you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Nancy said. “Families will be arriving soon. Fern—would you mind continuing to put the flowers on the tables? And there are some more over there that still need to be put in the vases. Levi, I want you to get ready to serve, but I would love it if you would spend time with the kids, so over there I have that list of names next to pictures. As I mentioned, nothing is better for a kid’s self-esteem than being called by name by someone they admire. And Tabitha, come with me. There is a lot to do in the kitchen.”

“I already know their names,” Levi said proudly.

“Wonderful,” she said, smiling, allowing a moment to let that sink in. Again, Tabitha was impressed. Then Nancy turned to lead Tabitha back toward the kitchen.

Tabitha looked around, wondering if it was okay to leave the kids, and she decided it was. So she followed Nancy, accepted an apron, and got to work stuffing the peppers with the tomato-rice mixture and topping them with cheese. They looked and smelled so good, Tabitha wondered if volunteers got to eat some, too, but she didn’t think so. They were supposed to be done before seven, plenty of time to get their own dinner. Great.

The families arrived, and Tabitha was surprised to see how into it Levi was, laughing with the kids, taking his serving duties seriously. Even Fern seemed to enjoy herself, talking to a little girl who was about her age and checking to make sure the flowers still looked good. Nobody looked particularly destitute. Tabitha wondered how each one became involved with the organization. How was it determined that they needed this help? Then each family had a chance to tell their story, with one representative member taking the floor at a time. There were about fifteen families. Tabitha thought, Really? I have to sit through each one of these sob stories? I can add my own sob story to the bunch.

As the first woman started talking, Tabitha moved to the back of the room, close to the kitchen, and leaned against the wall. She listened as the woman described her kids and how they were doing so much better in school. When Nancy prompted her to talk about how things were before they came to The Family Meal, Tabitha ducked into the empty kitchen and looked around. Nancy had said they saved the leftover food or let the hungriest families take it home, even though the point of the organization wasn’t really to feed people but to teach them how to feed themselves through healthy choices, good budget strategies, and learning to cook. But now she eyed the four cooling stuffed peppers in the pan. Would anyone really miss those? She found a ziplock bag and gently placed one pepper at a time at the bottom of the bag. They fit perfectly. If she got caught, she’d just say she was getting them ready to send home with someone, or she was cleaning up. She heard a loud round of applause from the room next door, and she wondered, briefly, what had been said. She looked around to make sure she was totally alone, pushed the air out of the bag, and placed it in the bottom of her big purse. She took a few deep breaths and waited to make sure nobody had seen it, and then she relaxed. She wandered over to the shelf. Salt, pepper, dried thyme. All of that would be nice, but she could live without it. Salt and pepper were easy to get from really any fast-food restaurant that had the tiny packets. Nothing else on the shelf really grabbed her, and she told herself she never had any intention of actually taking anything, until she saw a full bottle of cinnamon sugar—Fern’s favorite. In one motion, she grabbed it and dropped it into her bag, on top of the peppers, which were really starting to smell. She snapped it shut and waited again, but nobody said anything; there was nobody there. She just hoped there weren’t any security cameras, and if there were, she hoped there would be no reason anyone would look at them. She thought about opening the refrigerator, or even searching for a few pieces of fruit. A banana would be so nice. But she didn’t dare. She went to the door and slipped back into her spot in the cafeteria.