Hunting and Gathering Read Free Page A

and had put his conscientious big-shot doctor mask back on.
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As he was opening the door for her, he held out his other hand:
    â€œA few pounds, won’t you try? For my sake?”
    She shook her head. That sort of thing was a waste of time with her. Blackmail and sympathy—she’d had her fair share.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do,” she said. “I’ll try.”
    Samia went in after her.
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Camille went down the steps of the van, feeling her jacket pockets for a cigarette. Fat Mamadou and Carine were sitting on a bench, making comments about the people walking by, and complaining because they wanted to go home.
    â€œWell?” laughed Mamadou. “What the hell were you doin’ in there? I got my train to catch! He put a spell on you or what?”
    Camille sat on the ground and smiled. Not the same kind of smile, a transparent smile, this time. She couldn’t mess with Mamadou, she was much too smart for her.
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“Is he nice?” asked Carine, spitting out a bit of chewed fingernail.
    â€œFabulous.”
    â€œI knew it!” said Mamadou triumphantly. “I was sure! Didn’t I tell you and Samia she was stark naked in there?”
    â€œHe’ll make you stand on the scale.”
    â€œWho, me?” cried Mamadou. “Me? He thinks I’m gonna get on his scale?”
    Mamadou weighed at least two hundred pounds. She pounded her thighs. “Not on your life! If I get on that scale, I’ll flatten it and him along with it! What else did he do?”
    â€œMaybe he’ll give you a shot,” suggested Carine.
    â€œA shot for what?”
    â€œNo, no shots,” Camille reassured her. “He’ll just listen to your heart and lungs.”
    â€œOh, that’s okay.”
    â€œAnd he’ll touch your tummy.”
    â€œWhat?!” She frowned. “Oh no, just let him try! If he touches my tummy, I’ll eat him alive. Little white doctors, they taste good.”
    She exaggerated her accent and rubbed the colorful cloth of her dress.
    â€œYeah, they make real good eatin’. So the old folks used to say. Fry ’em up with manioc and chicken combs. Mmmm-mm!”
    â€œAnd what about that Bredart, what’s he gonna do to her?”
    Bredart—Josy was her first name—was a regular bitch, their resident shit-stirrer and punching bag and vicious to boot. She also happened to be their boss. “Chief Worksite Manager” was what it said, clearly, on her badge. Bredart made life miserable within the limited means at her disposal—but that was exhausting enough.
    â€œJosy? Nothing. As soon as the doctor gets a whiff of her, he’ll ask her to put her clothes back on, lickety-split.”
    Carine wasn’t far off. Josy Bredart, in addition to the qualities listed above, perspired profusely.
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When it was Carine’s turn, Mamadou pulled a wad of papers from her bag and placed them in Camille’s lap. Camille had promised her she’d take a look, and now she was trying to make sense of the whole mess:
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œIt’s the form from the AFDC.”
    â€œNo, but all these names here?”
    â€œMy family, what’d you think?”
    â€œWhich family?”
    â€œWhich family? Which family? My family! Use your head, Camille!”
    â€œAll these names—this is your family?”
    â€œEvery single one,” she said proudly.
    â€œHow many kids do you have, anyway?”
    â€œI got five, and my brother got four.”
    â€œBut why are all of them on here?”
    â€œWhere, here?”
    â€œYeah, on this paper.”
    â€œIt’s easier this way because my brother and sister-in-law live at our place and we have the same mailbox so—”
    â€œBut that’s no good. They say that’s no good. You can’t have nine children—”
    â€œAnd why not?” she retorted. “My mother, she had