Sentimental tears welled up in her eyes as she finished her message. And she stared at Aria longingly. It was arranged for Aria to move in with them the following week. That was three years ago. Aria had been living with them ever since.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

“Dinner time!” Mrs Johnson called from the bottom of the stairs.

Aria ran her fingers through the silky black fur of the cat napping on her bed. Clifford, who was the only family pet, preferred to sleep his days away in Aria’s room. Her younger siblings had named the cat after the famous cartoon Clifford the Big Red Dog, in the innocent hope that the cat would soon grow large enough to ride. Aria loved Clifford. She buried her face in his side and breathed him in, letting the inhale and exhale of his purr console her. She felt a trace of belonging with Clifford that she felt with no one else.

She walked into the little dining room adjoining the kitchen. The table was set with white plastic plates and paper napkins. To one side, a sheet cake with unlit candles took up a good portion of the table. On its surface, “Happy Birthday Aria” was piped in red gel that almost ran into Mrs Johnson’s haphazard attempt to create buttercream flowers. Aria took her usual place and watched the pans and serving bowls make their way divisively through the hyperactive movements of the other children to be placed in the center of the table. Aria loved food. It was the only thing in her life without ulterior motives. She could trust food.

Once everyone was seated, her younger sister was prompted to say grace. They all folded their arms and bowed their heads for the length of the speech. There was a palpable relief when grace was through. To Aria, grace felt like a spiritual tollbooth you had to pass through to get to where you wanted to go.

“Mom,” Aria said, “can you pass the soup?” Mrs Johnson had insisted the week after Aria moved in that she begin to call her Mom. This bothered Aria. Regardless of the fact that Lucy had abandoned her, it still felt like a betrayal to call any other woman Mother. It felt fake and contrived every time she said it.