She and her mom did takeout fairly often, several times a week. But pizza was special and they ordered it rarely, keeping the nature of the occasion festive. Once upon a time a year or so ago, Chloe had gotten all grown up and responsible for a month, trying to make dinner for them at least once a week, but that had been phased out as she and her mom started fighting over things more and more. I should probably start doing that again.… It was hard for Chloe to remember that her mom was a person, often exhausted and with her own troubles, but when she did, she was genuinely sorry. And sorry she was such a burden. They got a large pepperoni and split it with no mention of waists, calories, fat, or anything else. Rarely did a slice make it to a plate—one of them would scoop it up and shovel it directly into her face. The television wasn’t on. The whole thing was a little forced, but they were giggling—especially when her mom got a red Ronald McDonald smile on her face ear to ear from tomato sauce.