Some Circles Aren't Round

By Raya Brady

Curious, eager Lilia, adopted by parents who adore her, enjoys her wonderful new life.

June Marie, abandoned by her father and neglected by her mother, must fend for herself and scratch out her own education.

Constantly uprooted Christina migrates from place to place with her idealistic mother, her brother and sister, and a series of stepfathers.

Athletic and strong-willed Jonathan, full of potential, must overcome his father's deliberately placed obstacles to make a successful life for himself and his loved ones.

Told out of sequence, spanning from the 1980's to modern day, four interwoven storylines converge to create a family circle that, by all accounts, isn't very round.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781312013940

Book preview

Some Circles Aren’t Round

Raya Brady

Some Circles Aren’t Round is a work of fiction. Everything contained herein is solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events, situations, and people or pets, living or dead, is purely unintentional. Attitudes, opinions, and personalities depicted are those of the characters, and do not necessarily reflect those of the author.

ISBN 978-1-312-01394-0

© 2023 by Raya Brady

Some Circles Aren’t Round

Lilia, Part I

June Marie, Part I

Christina, Part I

Lilia, Part II

June Marie, Part II

Jonathan, Part I

Lilia, Part III

Christina, Part II

Jonathan, Part II

June Marie, Part III

Christina, Part III

Jonathan, Part III

Lilia, Part IV

Christina, Part IV

Jonathan, Part IV

June Marie, Part IV

Jonathan and Christina

June Marie and Lilia

Lilia, Part I

Early 2020’s

What are we celebrating? The smiling restaurant server was curious. This family of three, seated in her section, radiated a happiness you don’t see every day. They had some special occasion going on. A holiday? The Fourth of July had already passed. Must be a birthday or something?

Eleven-year-old Lilia Danielle Thompson glanced cautiously at both of her parents, her unspoken question visible. Mom nodded permission. No secrets. It’s OK to tell people. Lilia glanced at Dad to be sure. He agreed.

The child’s face brightened. I just got adopted! she announced proudly.

The server’s eyes lit up with delight, and she let out a gasp. How exciting! she exclaimed. Are these your new parents?

Lilia’s grin widened. She nodded an enthusiastic yes, her eyes shining as they flitted back and forth from Mom to Dad. Both parents looked pleased to have her as their child. That made her happy. Even more so when Dad, known to the rest of the world as Jonathan Thompson, Jon for short, said it outright. Adding Lilia to our family is definitely something to celebrate, he asserted, giving his daughter a kiss on the top of her head.

Christina Rogers Thompson, Mom to Lilia, barely avoided starting to cry again, right there in the restaurant. From the moment she knew Lilia would be coming home with them, she’d been a nonstop water fountain of joy. For years she had longed and prayed for another child in her life, especially now that she was with Jon rather than with her ex-husband. Jon would make a wonderful father, as she knew he had been to his daughter with his own previous wife.

Unfortunately, bearing another child had become medically impossible for Christina. Almost sixteen years into a loving and satisfying marriage, she realized they were just plain too old to start a child from scratch, even if she could. Christina supposed they could believably claim to be Lilia’s grandparents, but that didn’t bother anybody. Even if it were so, they certainly wouldn’t be the first couple ever to adopt and raise a grandchild.

If anything, Jon and Christina felt, age and experience would help them do a better job raising their new child. Both had made mistakes with their older children. Nobody is perfect. All parents do make mistakes, and they realized they would make mistakes this time too. In fact, they had warned Lilia and apologized in advance for anything they would get wrong.

But not the same mistakes, Christina vowed to herself and to her daughter.

Christina drew a deep breath, bringing her surge of emotion under control. The server took their drink orders—diet soda for Mom and Dad, and regular soda for Lilia—and stepped away to give them time to study their menus. Just before they did, Christina felt obligated to inform Lilia that she would not be drinking sugary soft drinks every day. That is a treat reserved for special occasions. Fortunately, this absolutely is one.

Lilia was satisfied with the information and opened her menu. What should I order? she asked her parents.

Anything you like, Dad replied.

This startled Lilia. Even if it’s too much money?

Let us do the worrying about money, Dad told her firmly. If we think it’s too expensive, we’ll steer you toward something else.

There is a kid’s menu on the back page, Mom put in. But you don’t have to order from just that, if you want something else. Lilia nodded and resumed looking at her menu. Her parents did the same.

Christina briefly thought back to when she and Jon first began dating, and Jon had to break her of the habit of always ordering the cheapest item to save him money. Now they would teach their daughter as he had taught her.

When the server returned, Jon and Christina encouraged Lilia to order first. They wanted her to develop confidence in speaking up for herself.

Lilia’s first instinct was to order a corn dog from the children’s menu, even though she didn’t especially like corn dogs. Her parents had said she could order anything she liked. Could they really mean it? That Philly cheesesteak sandwich looks delicious. Somewhat hesitantly, half expecting Mom or Dad to step in and say she couldn’t have it for some reason or another, she told their server what she wanted.

No objection came. The server wrote it down. Would she like soup or salad with it? Soup, please. It was a choice between clam chowder or cream of asparagus, and Lilia opted for the second. She didn’t know what asparagus was, but it sounded interesting, and she thought she might try it.

Mom chose a chef salad with oil and vinegar dressing, along with a smaller serving of the cream of asparagus soup.

Dad agreed with Lilia that the Philly cheesesteak did indeed look yummy, but instead he settled on the French dip. Soup rather than salad, and make it the clam chowder, please. The server summed up their orders, smiled again, and headed toward the kitchen with her order pad.

How did that feel? Dad smiled at Lilia.

She thought it over. Um…. Good, she decided.

I’m glad, Dad smiled. Always feel free to speak up and ask for anything you want. You won’t always get it. Sometimes we’ll have to tell you no, but it never hurts to ask.

And if we do tell you no, Mom added, it’s always going to be for a good reason. Not because we’re mad at you, or we don’t want you to have fun, or anything like that. As parents, it’s our job to decide what’s best for you. What’s best for you, and what you want, may not always be the same thing.

Lilia thought it over and believed she understood. In her foster home, on a small farm with several animals, she had seen a little boy around three years old pick something up from the grass. As he was about to pop it into his mouth, didn’t he raise an unholy ruckus when the foster mother quickly snatched it away! What the little boy had mistaken for a fresh blueberry turned out to be a fresh goat dropping. Naturally nobody with any sense is going to sit back and let him eat that! She giggled lightly as she told her parents about it.

That’s a beautiful illustration, Mom observed as both parents laughed. He thought he wanted it, but it wasn’t good for him at all, was it?

Their soups arrived. A cup for Mom, and bowls for Dad and Lilia.

Asparagus, as Lilia now found out, is a vegetable. Chopped up, it looked somewhat like green beans, with a different taste and texture. She would have struggled for words if anyone asked her to describe it. Maybe a little buttery flavor, but that could be the seasonings in the soup. The vegetable itself, well, she might say it tastes the way the grass smells after a warm spring rain. Not too bad. She decided she liked it.

A faster eater than his wife and daughter, Dad had finished his soup. As they waited for their main courses, he pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and began doodling on a napkin. It turned out to be a sketch of the three of them. They appeared to be at a zoo, except that they were playing with the animals. Or maybe the animals were playing with them. Two orangutans swung a laughing Lilia with their arms. Mom rode a zebra as if it were a horse, while Dad used a giraffe’s neck as a slide. It was a silly but rather detailed picture, and Dad had put it together in an impressively short time.

Are you an artist? Lilia asked, her eyes full of amazement.

No, Dad answered. Not professionally. But I did comic strips when I was younger, as a hobby.

I like to draw too, but I’m not very good at it, Lilia sighed. Dad picked up on the mild self-deprecation in her tone and wanted to encourage her. He offered a napkin and his pen to see what she would come up with.

Lilia thought a moment and produced a puppy, peacefully curled up asleep on a rug, with the tip of its tail resting just above its nose. The effort showed potential. Dad could see that the talent was there. His daughter needed instruction, and he would see that she got it. He smiled his approval.

Their server brought their meals.

Lilia’s eyes opened wide. The Philly cheesesteak looked as delicious in real life as it had in the menu photo, and it smelled wonderful. The trouble was, she hadn’t expected it to be this big. She thought it would be more the size of the corn dog she had briefly considered.

She wasn’t sure she could finish and wondered if it would be a problem. Would her parents scold her for leaving food on her plate? Would they say she shouldn’t have ordered it if she wasn’t going to eat it? Would she be made, or forced, to finish every bite even if she were uncomfortably stuffed?

Mom noticed her hesitancy. Everything OK, sweetie?

I didn’t know it was going to be so big, Lilia admitted.

Mom understood. If you can’t finish it, we’ll just ask for a box and take it home with us. No big deal.

Lilia was satisfied and took a bite. It does taste good, she smiled.

We don’t do the eat everything on your plate thing, Dad stated. We’re never going to force you to keep eating if you tell us you’re full. It’s your body and your stomach. You know what’s going on in there. We don’t.

I suggest that you make us a list of foods you like and don’t like, Mom put in. That doesn’t mean we’re only going to serve what you like, and never anything you don’t, but we want to know.

What if I don’t like something? Lilia wondered.

Then don’t eat it, Dad answered.

To Mom, the situation didn’t seem so cut and dried. If it’s something you’ve never had before, I want you to at least taste it. Dad conceded the point. Given complete freedom, some children would eat only sweets and ignore anything healthy. Lilia felt that was reasonable; she had already done it with the soup. Mom continued. If you already know you don’t like it, have a bite or two once in a while. Sometimes our tastebuds change their minds. You may find out you suddenly like a food you didn’t like before.

Really? That was startling information to Lilia.

It happens, Mom affirmed. I didn’t like sweet potatoes when I was a child. After I was older, a lady at church invited me to her house for dinner, and she served sweet potatoes. I didn’t want to be rude or hurt her feelings, so I ate some. I was surprised how good it was. From then on, I liked them.

A lot of people think you’re wasting food if you don’t finish every bite on your plate, Dad observed.

Food is wasted at the grocery store, not at the table, Mom put in.

This puzzled Lilia, but not her dad. When you think about it, eating more than you can comfortably hold is wasting it too, he explained. Your body doesn’t need it. Buying food that nobody in the house likes is wasting it. At our house, we cook a variety of foods. I did say we. That means both your mother and I cook, and we’ll teach you too. What one of us doesn’t like, chances are somebody else will, or we’ll know not to buy that again.

There’s no need for that intense battle, day in and day out, over you’re not getting up from this table until you finish every bite of your whatever, Mom agreed, remembering how common such household scenes used to be. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but in my day, it happened to every kid I knew, at one point or another.

Why? Lilia was curious.

Oh, I think it’s a carryover from earlier times when food was harder to come by, Mom explained. It wasn’t as easy back then to just go to the supermarket and buy groceries. Most people lived in the country. They had bigger families but not as much money, and they grew their own food. It was hard work that took everybody’s participation. If anything didn’t get eaten, not only was the food wasted, all that time and effort was wasted along with it.

People needed to eat more back then, too, because all that heavy farm work burned off so many calories, Dad added.

Mom agreed and continued. When those farm kids grew up and had their own families, people were moving to suburbs. Instead of growing vegetables and raising livestock, they went to the grocery store for their food. But then they expected their kids to eat the same way they ate when they were children. They were cramming their kids full of much more food than necessary.

Why would they do that? It doesn’t seem right, Lilia was concerned.

They didn’t know better, Mom replied. They remembered what they ate, and they assumed all children need that much. They were worried their kids were going to starve if they didn’t clean their plates. It took a generation or two for people to realize it wasn't that way anymore. Those parents had good, loving intentions and thought they were doing what was best.

Lilia smiled at her parents. How did you two get so smart?

Mom and Dad laughed. We aren’t any smarter than most people, Dad answered modestly. We’ve lived some life, we’ve seen some things, and we’ve made mistakes and learned from them.

Are there any foods you still don’t like? Lilia asked her parents.

Yes, Mom admitted. Quite a few. I don’t think I’m ever going to suddenly like sauerkraut, and I can’t stand lima beans. People think I’m crazy because I don’t like tacos or pizza. And Dad likes split pea soup, but I don’t.

It’s delicious, Dad put in. Neither of them cared if they disagreed.

Just because I don’t like it, doesn’t mean Dad can’t whip up a pot of it for himself any time he wants to, Mom remarked. There are also foods I like, and he doesn’t. That won’t stop me from eating it.

What do you not like, Dad?

I don’t like ketchup, bananas, or coleslaw, Dad answered.

And I like all of those, Mom added. It’s OK for two people who love each other to not always like the same things.

I like ketchup, bananas, and coleslaw, Lilia decided. I like pizza and tacos too. Then, thinking how that sounded coming out of her mouth, she added as a joking afterthought, Well, maybe not all together.

Her parents laughed again. That does not sound good, Mom agreed.

More seriously, she continued, Also write down any food you just can’t stand, and it makes you sick when you eat it. We’ll need to get you checked out to see if you might be allergic to it.

That, Christina had learned after hearing a co-worker’s story. Her parents had poured her a glass of milk at each meal, forcing her to finish every drop. Her clear aversion to it, they waved off as rebellion and dramatics. Eventually her doctor discovered she did indeed have a milk allergy.

Lilia took preparing a list of liked, disliked, and despised foods as an informal homework assignment, and resolved to complete it soon after getting settled into her new home.

Dad’s cell phone dinged, and he looked at it to read the text. Furniture’s in, he told his wife and daughter. They’re setting the bed up now. He showed the attached photo to Lilia. This is how they’re thinking of arranging it, he told her. Do you see anything you’d rather have in a different place?

Lilia looked at the picture and gave her approval. She didn’t care much how her room was set up.

Still, We can rearrange your room later if it’s going to work out better some other way, Dad promised. As long as we only have to switch it up once or twice, and not every other day from now on, he added with a wink.

The bedroom furniture had arrived, but there was no bedding. Lilia also didn’t quite have enough to wear, having mostly outgrown her clothes. Her foster parents were kind and would have been willing to buy her some, but they didn’t have a chance to do it before the hearing took place and the Thompsons were awarded custody of Lilia.

These essentials, they would take care of after they finished eating. Shopping was to be their next stop.

The smiling server returned to the table. Will there be any dessert?

Everybody politely declined, feeling full and satisfied. Mom requested a go box for the half of the Philly cheesesteak that Lilia had not eaten. Dad paid the tab and tipped the server generously.

Congratulations again, their server called out, waving goodbye.

Even without the awarded funding for this purpose, Jon Thompson was a financially responsible man. He knew how to manage his money, rarely spent it foolishly, and had worked steadily since high school. While not wealthy, he had set himself up to be comfortable.

The habits he had formed over the years also helped elevate Christina’s life when they met and fell in love. It was one of many things she admired and respected about him. Their house, with three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms, had plenty of space to add a third family member. They cleared out what had been the home office. Some of the furnishings went to the living room, to their own bedroom, or to the guest room, while a few pieces remained in Lilia’s room for her to use.

The family pulled into the parking lot of a modest department store. As Jon parked and they walked toward the store, Christina instinctively kept an eye and a casual hand on Lilia. She was reasonably confident her daughter knew to watch for traffic, but maternal instinct compelled her. At this stage, it was better to overprotect than to overlook, to tell her something she may know already than to leave her uninformed.

In return, Lilia felt an urge to watch over her mother. They had explained that Mom uses a cane because long ago she was in a car accident, and her body never quite recovered. Christina caught the concern in her daughter’s face. They would need to have a reassuring talk later, explaining Mom’s limitations. A disability doesn’t mean you can’t do for yourself; in fact, you should do as much as possible to keep in your best condition. Besides, Lilia isn’t here to take care of her parents. She is here for them to take care of her.

Instead of opting for a motor scooter, as she sometimes did when her pain level was high, Mom pushed the shopping cart to help steady herself.

Mom had noticed that Lilia’s clothes were getting snug. They would need to go up a size or two and have Lilia try on some things. Mom wanted everything to fit with room to grow. Because bedding doesn’t need trying on, it would take less effort to shop for, and she suggested doing that first. If asked why, she would have explained her reasoning, but nobody asked. Dad didn’t care, and Lilia was used to following instructions without question.

Both parents had earlier decided they would encourage Lilia to make her own choices. Just as she had ordered her meal for herself, she would pick out her own clothing and bedding with input from her parents.

When they began shopping, Dad repeated the slogan, You get what you pay for. He wanted to guide Lilia, as he had once guided her mother, away from always gravitating toward the cheapest. You can buy quality once, or you can spend more money in the long run replacing a piece of junk every time it breaks. He understood that not everybody can afford the initial outlay to buy quality the first time, and he hadn’t figured out what such unfortunate people could do. He did, however, practice the philosophy himself.

They made their way first to the bedding. Lilia would need sheets and a pillow. Looking at the options, some labeled for back or side sleepers, Dad asked Lilia how she slept. On her side, she answered, so they picked out a sampling and inspected them for comfort before choosing one.

Mom had another thought. Do you ever wake up with a stuffy nose? She asked because she suffered from allergies herself. Lilia didn’t, so they wouldn’t have to worry about the materials in the pillow. Still, it might be a good idea to get allergy covers for the pillow and mattress. Not only would it help in case Lilia developed allergies later, but it would also keep the fabrics clean. She had once read that dust mites and shed skin cells accumulate over time, and that thought squicked her out quite a bit. Better to be sanitary. Explaining her thinking to her husband and daughter, she added a twin-size allergy cover for the mattress, and one for the pillow, to the shopping cart.

Supposing Lilia would sleep better with a padded topper over the allergy cover, she led her daughter toward them. This will make your bed softer and more comfortable, she said. I don’t see much practical difference between any of these. Do any of them feel better to you? Lilia had no preference, so Mom compared materials, cost, and thread count, before making a suggestion. After that came sheets. You pick out the sheets you want. We’ll need three sets, I think, Mom said, looking to Dad for confirmation, and he agreed.

Lilia investigated and picked out the three she liked best. She first chose an abstract print featuring her favorite color, hunter green, with flecks of gold and tan splattered throughout.

Oh, that’s pretty, Mom approved.

Next her eyes landed on a plaid. Here too, a medium shade of green served as the base color, showing off contrasting strands of light and dark green, butter yellow, and deep red. Her final choice was a floral print featuring pink roses and prominent green leaves.

Something tells me you don’t like the color green, Mom wisecracked. For an instant Lilia didn’t understand, but then she laughed.

They walked toward the blankets and covers. Mom recommended getting two. Lilia picked out a dark