“Lemonade?” I set a glass in front of my sister before she could respond. The kitchen was the place to be whenever the two of us were alone. Food was a great distraction, and Jitterbug’s performance of The Great Stretching Bird Head in front of his mirror certainly didn’t hurt.

Katherine swung her passive smile in my direction.  “Thanks.” She took a sip and set it aside, still smiling, though with obvious effort. “It’s so good to see you, Maggie.”

She’d said those exact words a couple of hours ago, but we’d been with Dad, so technically I suppose it didn’t count. Nonetheless, I was struck with a lingering sense of déjà vu. Why do we always exchange these silly pleasantries when you come home? I wanted to ask.  Instead, I returned her smile and said, “You, too.”

Thankfully, she remained seated, so at least we wouldn’t have to hug again. It wouldn’t have been a real hug, anyway. Our embraces never were. Katherine acted as if she were afraid I’d break in half if she squeezed too hard. Maybe that’s what the psychiatrists had told her way back when. Or maybe she was just afraid if she got too close my affliction would rub off on her.

It was funny, really. I loved my sister, and I knew she loved me, but I couldn’t believe such ostentation was a part of normal sibling relationships. If strangers were listening in, they’d guess years had passed since we’d been together, when in reality, it was rarely more than a few months. 

I took an Oreo from the cookie jar and peeled it apart. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Murray sisters: Snacks, half-hearted smiles, and small talk aplenty. I didn’t have it in me to disappoint. “It’s a good thing I got Dad to take down the Christmas lights last week, or they’d be up till summer,” I said in my perkiest tone of voice. Perky was everyone’s favorite.

Katherine smiled again. “I can always count on you to look on the bright side.”

I glanced toward the living room as I finished the cookie. Dad had dosed off in his chair about twenty minutes before with the aid of a pain pill, but I half expected some snide remark to come floating into the kitchen. I’d learned years ago that his fellow officers had their reasons for calling him Elephant Ears.

I waited another ten seconds or so, but my hoped-for distraction failed to materialize, unless snoring counted. Behind me, Jitterbug had tucked his head under his wing, deciding to call it a night.  Was it really so bad to look on the bright side, I wondered, tossing the cover over his cage.  Was that another one of my marvelous qualities that had driven our mother into a stranger’s arms and out the door?

“Do you feel like talking about it, Maggie?”

I walked to the window and stood there, staring at the neighbor’s snow-drenched backyard; flat and void of vegetation, shimmering beneath a full moon and a tapestry of reflecting stars. A giant ice rink. And there I was, alone, skating round and round and round as Katherine watched from behind the safety of the glass between us. She’d smile and wave as I zoomed past, but only if I fell would she rush out to join me.

“Maggie?”

I knew her question had referred to the episode at the store, but what if I ignored that and answered as if the “it” she’d been talking about was the eerie silence that cropped up whenever the two of us were alone together? 

I shrugged, my gaze still focused on the make-believe rink as “get real” echoed in my ears. At least there was that one given: through all the ups and downs, I’d managed to hold on to my sense of reality. While I may have ventured pretty close to the rabbit hole a time or two, I had yet to tumble in.

“If you want to,” I said. It was up to Katherine to choose the path. That’s what she expected. What Dad expected. What everyone expected. And rightly so.  Our strained relationship wasn’t my sister’s fault. The problem stemmed from my inability to accept responsibility—for my scar, Mother’s leaving, Katherine having to look out for me all those years. And now, for the shooting at the store. If only I’d remained in the back room. Then I wouldn’t have startled the robbers and Dad probably wouldn’t have...“Do you think he’ll get in trouble?” I blurted out.  “For shooting Bobby, I mean.”

I turned just enough to see her shoulders rise. The quiet sigh was never a good sign.  Nor was the long thinking pause that preceded her answer.

“From what he’s told me so far, probably not, but…”

I couldn’t take another of those pauses. “Because they didn’t find the gun,” I finished briskly.  The police had searched every inch around that counter, but still hadn’t found a sign of Bobby’s gun. But he must have had one. Dad would never have shot an unarmed man. A boy. Bobby Tyler hadn’t lived long enough to become a man.

Katherine walked over to me, set her hand on my shoulder. It was a tentative touch, like a cat edging his way through a hole in the fence. “Close your eyes and think, Maggie.” Nothing tentative about her voice as she moved into the take-charge zone. “You came out of the storeroom and saw a man in a ski mask at the counter. Look closer at that image. Did you see a gun in his hand?”

The scene flashed in my mind again.  “There was something in his hand.  I’m almost positive it was a gun.” What else would it have been?  I should just say, ‘yes, I saw it.’ Who would doubt me?  “I know the guy standing in the doorway had one,” I squeaked. “I’m absolutely certain about that.”

“But did he come into the store?  Even a step or two?  Did you see him point the thing at Dad? Maggie?”

Bang, bang, bang! Too many images blurring together. “I don’t know, all right? I just don’t know!  Why does everyone have to keep asking me all these questions?”

I gasped. The voice hadn’t sounded like mine, but I knew it must have been. I backed into the corner, squeezed my head in my hands. My heart was racing. Why hadn’t I been able to stop the words from spilling out, muffle the frantic tone of their delivery?

 “Kathy!”

I leaned back at the sound of our father’s voice, rested my pounding head against the wall. I could’ve been shot too, you know! I wanted to say in my defense. But the words stuck in my knotted throat as I watched Dad hobble into the kitchen.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” he snapped.

Obviously the question had been directed toward Katherine. Ditto the accompanying glare. 

“I’m just trying to find out what happened, Dad. For God’s sake, why do you always have to…”

Protect me, I finished silently as my sister’s voice trailed off.  Shelter me. Take my side. I’d heard it put a dozen ways, but it all came down to the same reaction on my part: relief at not having to deal with it anymore.

“It’s almost midnight and I’m tired,” I said, fixing my gaze on the floor. I walked to Jitterbug’s cage. He was upset, too, peeping and fluttering his wings as if the world were about to end.  I lifted the cover and slid open the door. He hopped onto my finger, made his way up to my shoulder, and nestled there, pressing his warm little body against my damp neck. 

“Of course you are.” Dad’s voice had softened. He limped toward me, grabbing the chair backs and table for support. “We’ve both been through a lot, honey.” He squeezed my hand—a real squeeze, a real touch. Nothing tentative about Dad or his love. “You take Jitterbug and go on to bed, get some sleep. Things won’t seem as complicated tomorrow, when we’ve had a chance to sort them out.”

I nodded and said goodnight without looking Katherine’s way. I wanted to stand up for myself. I really did.  But I just couldn’t. Not there, not then. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor as I walked to the doorway and into the living room. By the time I’d reached the base of the stairs in the parlor, the conversation in the kitchen had resumed.

“Maggie’s done all the talking about this she needs to. If she can’t verify she saw the Tyler kid’s gun, she can’t.  It’s not as if I’ll be hauled off to jail without her collaboration, for Christ’s sake. This was a stick-up, Kathy. An armed robbery.”

“Without a videotape, you can’t prove either of those guys was armed.”

I waited, frozen on the bottom step, straining to hear Dad’s reaction.  Maggie forgot to turn it on would have been the appropriate response. Usually I took care of it first thing in the morning, but sometimes I didn’t get around to it until after lunch. When you’d worked twenty-two years at a place, twenty-five if you counted Saturdays and after school, and had never once been held up, you tended to relax.  I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.

I stroked my finger down Jitterbug’s silky wing and back-tracked a few steps until Katherine’s voice traveled clearly again.

“When’s the last time you checked the stats on Rosemont’s minority population? If it’s even two percent black, I’d be shocked.”

“And your point is what? That the mayor should be offering free timeshare condos to Asians or Hispanics so they’ll move here?”

“God, Dad. I can’t believe you’re so naïve.  You shot a black kid in a white town.  A jock with a promising future, from what I understand.”

“And I’m an ex-cop with a promising past. A cop who got shot on the job and had to retire because of it. I never saw what color those gang-bangers were in the alley that day, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass. All I knew was I was hit, maybe dying. And you know what I was thinking? Who’ll take care of my family if I bleed to death out here.”

“Dad—”

“When Tyler stood at the counter, he was wearing a ski mask and leather gloves. Carrying a gun in his pocket. That’s what I noticed, Kathy, not how old he was or the color of his skin. Do you really think the townspeople here will vote to convict me for defending myself and my daughter and my own damn property?”

“You know better than I that depends on the evidence, which as of this moment is a corpse in the morgue, shot with your gun. If you can’t prove that boy was armed...”

A car drove past the house, its taillights flickering through the window.  For an instant, I thought it was the police coming to take Dad away, but it cruised on by, no sign of slowing. 

The argument in the kitchen escalated, Dad’s and Katherine’s voices jumbled together like boiling stew. I moved Jitterbug from my shoulder to my chest, put my hand over him so he didn’t take off, and proceeded up the stairway to the second floor landing. 

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Katherine’s voice echoed in my ears.

I went into my room and locked the door. Jitterbug didn’t put up much of a fuss when I put him into his overnight cage. I draped the cover over him and got into my pajamas.

It was late. I was tired. There were so many ideas whirling around inside my head it was impossible to concentrate on any one. I flipped on my radio and settled into bed. Moonlight shone through the windows, but I didn’t bother getting up to close the blinds. Sleep would come easily. The noise in my brain would fade with the soft jazz purring from the speakers, and I would be at peace, oblivious to the chaotic world surrounding me.

Until morning, when sunlight broke through the windows.

It wouldn’t be easy, dealing with tomorrow. Katherine would see to that.