Loved Only in a Will Chapter 2

On New Year's Eve when I was seven, I thought I could go home.

Grandma made a phone call.

I stood beside her and heard my mom on the other end say, "Don't come back this year. There's not much space at home. Marcus just got a new bed, and there's nowhere for her to sleep."

Nowhere to sleep. Marcus had a new bed. I didn't even have an old one.

Grandma hung up and patted my head. "This year you'll stay with Grandma. Grandma will make your favorite food."

I ate until my stomach hurt. Grandma smiled.

"Eat slowly. No one's going to take it from you."

Later I learned that during that same New Year, my parents had set up two tables at home, one table full of my brother's favorite dishes.

Family photos were sent to Aunt Lesley's house and Uncle John's house.

In the photos were my dad, my mom, and Marcus. Not me.

Aunt Lesley later told others, "The Scott family just has one son. They treasure him."

Someone asked, "Don't they have a daughter too?"

Aunt Lesley said, "Oh, that one. She's out in the countryside. The old lady's taking care of her."

"That one." She was talking about me. I wasn't "Chloe." I was "that one."

In this family's narrative, I didn't even deserve a name.

When I was nine, Grandma took me to the city to see a doctor. On the way, we stopped by my parents' house.

I stood at the door and saw Marcus's room—an entire wall of toys, a new computer on the desk, and on the nightstand, a photo of Marcus with my parents at an amusement park.

Hanging in the living room was a family portrait. Dad, Mom, Marcus. Three people.

I counted twice. Three people.

Marcus ran out, looked at me, and frowned.

"Mom, who is she?"

He didn't recognize me.

My mom poked her head out from the kitchen and glanced at me.

"She's from Grandma's house. Her name is Chloe."

"From Grandma's house." Not "your sister."

Marcus said "Oh," turned around, and went back to his room to play video games. He didn't say a second word to me the entire time.

On the way home that day, Grandma didn't say anything.

When we were almost there, she suddenly stopped.

"Chloe."

"Yeah?"

She crouched down and looked into my eyes.

"Remember this. You're my Chloe. If no one else wants you, I want you."

Her eyes were red.

"As long as I'm alive, I'll take care of you."

I nodded.

That year I was nine, and I learned something.

Some people are family. Some people are just strangers who happen to share your blood.