Page 94 of Why Cheese?
As I start the climb down the ladder, Cheddy narrates, “Those two have been down here all night, all the nights.”
“Doing what?” I ask. “There’s no milk to make cheese.”
“I dunno. I asked once, and Roq told me to tend to the ruse upstairs.”
“Ruse?”
Cheddy lands hard on the ground. He pivots his head back to stare at me. “Oh, Brie and I got jumpsuits. Says 'janitor' on the back and everything. Reminds me of my old long underwear days.”
I ease down the ladder but turn and rest my back against the rung. Staring up and down Cheddy, I realize he’s dressed in his usual shirt and tan trousers. “Where’s the jumpsuit?”
He nervously scratches the back of his neck. “I think I might have thrown it away. Oops.”
Laughing, I wrap my arm over Cheddy’s and rest my head on the side of his biceps. “I’ve missed you.”
“We’ve missed you too. It’s not the same without you.” He frowns at the thought then lifts his head high. “Camembert? Roquefort? You here? Well, you have to be. Where else can you go?”
We walk around the empty, scrubbed-clean vats. The racks behind are full of molded and pressing cheeses, ready to be put away for aging. I spot the one I worked on. Cutting that curd was a huge workout and Cam told me the lopsided way I molded it gave it character. It’s the only cheese with little flowers resting beside it.
“…just stop this,” Cam’s exhausted voice echoes off the ceiling.
Cheddy’s excited steps slow. “Oh. Sounds like they’re fighting again.”
“Don’t lecture me,” Roq argues back.
I tug Cheddy closer, the hair on my arms rising. “Do they do this often?”
“Every night since you’ve been gone.”
“What are you even doing?” Cam snarls.
“You know the answer. I’m not debating this again.” Roq sounds exhausted, but also like he could argue all night.
Cam curses in a string of fast Spanish my three years in high school cannot keep up with. “We should be out there hunting for a new space. It’s only a matter of time before thatbrujakicks us out of here. Then what? We could be tossed into a dumpster with the rest of the stock if you don’t—”
“I have this!” Roq screams. “All I need is a few more weeks and…”
“We don’t have weeks, For. Are you listening to me? I should be scouting a new location, finding a cellar, cutting a deal with a flimflam man. Instead, you have me stealing sheep’s milk, and for what?” A loud clang breaks out like someone kicked a metal tin.
“It will work.”
“So you’ve claimed for four hundred years.”
“Those were failures, yes. I kept missing something, but this.” Roq sounds like he’s on the edge. “This is it. A few more weeks and we don’t need to find a new cellar. We don’t need to live like rats.” Roq’s manic panting stills and the air grows quiet. “We can see the sun again, Ber.”
Cheddy stiffens beside me, his body flexing to stone. His breathing stills as he digests the same thing I heard. If they can see the sun again that would mean…?
Cam’s sigh sweeps through the racks of cheese. “It won’t work. Just like all the others before.”
“It will! You have to have faith.”
“In what? In watching you waste every human moment churning, cutting, and molding in the hopes that at last all of the stars will align and you’ll break this curse?”
“I’m doing this for you, and Chedward, and Brie,” Roq cries out.
“No, you’re not. Why do I bother? You’re too stubborn to listen.”
“At least I didn’t abandon you,” Roq says.
