Drusilla came down every night with her two children. It was the only time she came downstairs. She wouldn’t let them play with the other children, or leave her side. When they tried, she grabbed them back by their arms or sleeves. She didn’t look ashamed as she took the food and water. She looked like it was owed to her. Somehow, though, I got the feeling that she didn’t exactly think it was owed to her as much as to them. She would grab a gallon of water and tip it up for first one, then the other child to drink from. Only after they had drank all they wanted would she drink any at all.

One night after we had distributed food, I was making my way up the dark stairs with a flashlight I had found in our apartment. I was walking quietly down the hall when I decided to keep going, to go to her door. I knocked once.

At first there was no answer, so I knocked again. I waited and waited, until finally the door opened. It was pretty dark inside, except for some candles. Drusilla was on the other side of the door, with a child on each side of her.

“What do you want?” she said. Before I could answer, she lowered the dark lids of her eyes a bit more and added, “We’re here and we’ve got every right to what everybody else has, so if that’s what you’ve come to talk about, you can just leave.”

“I know,” I said. I paused. “Can I come in?”

“You stay away from here,” she said. She blocked the doorway with her ample body. She reached down and pushed her children behind her.

“I’m not trying to take anything from you,” I said. I suddenly didn’t know why I was there at all. “We’re going to have to slag together, you know?”

“I don’t care what you or anybody else do,” she said. “All I care about is taking care of them.”

“We all care about your children. But if you’re going to stay here, you’re going to have to start caring about everybody else.”

“Don’t you tell me,” she said. She was pointing at me now emphatically. “Don’t you dare tell me how to take care of my family. You don’t know. How could you know?”