Lonnie sat in front of a palm that rose up over her head. She twisted her hair into a bun, and, holding it in place with a raised arm, turned her face to the sun, as if photosynthesizing her breakfast. I never saw her eat more than coffee and fruit in the morning and that first day was no exception. She seemed content at the table, though, whether eating or not. She didn’t say much, so I didn’t either. She was still waking up and I liked the silence that fell between us as she did so. It was as if to say, we’ll be spending a lot of time together, no need to rush things. I held the peach to my nose, savoring the anticipation.

At one point she said, “You know what you’re doing. I’m not the kind of mother who hovers or tells you what to do. You can do what you feel like with him. There will always be cash inside the cigar box on the table in the foyer. You can buy him or yourself whatever you need—toys, coffee, food. I don’t want you to spend your own money when you’re with him. I never want you to want.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

She watched me bite into my peach and smiled. “They’re delicious, aren’t they?” she said. “They’re not usually good yet.”

I used my hand to wipe a dribble of juice from my chin and nodded, calculating how much cash I could reasonably take from the cigar box, how much food from the cupboards, in order to eat dinner that week. I could feel myself starting to believe her, to trust her, to earnestly like her, though it might have just been the promise of nourishment. Not being hungry felt the same as being happy.

THAT FIRST WEEK, AFTER THE PEACH, I DEVOURED A SQUARE of bread, toasted brown, soft on the inside, slathered in a thick smear of salted butter with a French label. I followed it with raspberries, placed on each fingertip and popped off, one at a time, into my mouth. I ate thin slices of sharp cheddar and Gruyère, letting them melt on my tongue. I started simply, like a child, and with time moved on to forkfuls of sour kimchi, chili jam on nutty crackers, and garlicky green olives. I took to eating during William’s naptimes in order to fully concentrate on the food, training my body to register hunger between normal meals.