“Piper likes to tell me how much fun she has with her other friends.”

“I see.”

She took a bite of lasagna. “She doesn’t want me to think I’m an important friend.”

“Maybe she’s worried she’s not important.”

Natalie paused as if considering the idea. “Maybe.”

She was quiet and pensive while she ate. After dinner, I served us each a piece of cake. I rarely ate dessert, because I wanted to maintain my figure. But I needed Natalie to feel as though I was celebrating her birthday with a full heart. She ate all the icing off the outside of the cake, then the cake itself. Then she served herself a second piece of cake.

“Your mom said you’re a really good cello player.” I was looking for a subject that would put her in a good mood.

“She wishes I was.”

I searched for a lighthearted response. “No, she really thinks you’re amazing. Do you like playing the cello?”

She smiled on one side of her mouth. “I don’t know what I like doing.”

“Play something for me.”

Natalie inhaled quickly. “Yeah … OK.”

When she finished her cake, she found her cello in the media room and played a piece from memory. She was actually quite good.

I clapped. “Stunning!”

She held back a smile, but I could tell she was pleased by my reaction. “That was Elgar’s Cello Concerto I played for my recital last week.” She modestly returned her cello to its case.

“I wish I’d seen the recital.”

“My parents got a video from my teacher, since they couldn’t make it. I can show it to you sometime.”

Later, in her bedroom, she put on her unicorn nightgown, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed under her unicorn sheets. I kissed her forehead, exactly like her parents did when they left for the evening.

I ran the dishwasher, using the Straubs’ organic dishwasher detergent, and wiped down the counters, leaving the kitchen with a minty smell that made me queasy. Then I fed Itzhak his organic dog food. I was bitten by a rottweiler when I was eight and ended up in the hospital, once my third-grade teacher noticed the inflamed bite marks on my arm. Since then, I’ve never been entirely relaxed around dogs. Itzhak was too feeble to hurt anyone, but some fears are not rational.

The wind picked up outside and the windows shook loudly. Itzhak howled at the ceiling. “Shhh.” He settled back down after a few minutes. I thought about how my life compared to Itzhak’s life. He’d been raised with unconditional love by people who cared about his physical and mental well-being.