Growing up in Manhattan meant Laura had plenty of experience flicking on the kitchen light at midnight and seeing cockroaches scattering in various directions. She knew, thanks to the kinds of conversations her family had at dinner, that the cockroach was one of the fastest insects on earth, capable of covering five feet in a single second. While no one in the kitchen could call on that much accelerative power, they all treated the slamming front door as a kind of starter pistol and took off, possibly to avoid the dense cloud of awkward settling over the room.

Bob kept going in the direction of his bedroom, with Laura on his tail. Asher headed upstairs, Polly ditto, and Maggie crossed the kitchen and hit the back stairs like a homing pigeon. Within seconds the room was empty apart from the dogs, who looked at each other with consternation, each silently accusing the other of farting.

When Bob reached his door, he turned to look at Laura. “Uh, do you still want to watch a game?”

She shook her head. “No. I was thinking I would go and pull the bedcovers over my head.” She hesitated. “How long till we can pretend that didn’t happen?”

“That what didn’t happen?” Bob grinned at her, and Laura was relieved. She hated scenes and avoided confrontation of any kind. She wasn’t wired for it and definitely wasn’t armed for it. Growing up she’d sit on the sidelines of spirited debates, occasionally being called on to give an opinion, an opinion she took too long to form, making her brothers throw up their hands and interrupt whatever stuttering attempt she was making. So she stayed out of the fray, which led friends to call her aloof and family members to call her a chicken.

She smiled at Bob and opened her bedroom door. “Another night, maybe?” she said.

“Definitely,” he replied, giving a final friendly wave as he disappeared. Laura could hear Polly and Asher talking upstairs and quickly went into her room, in case they started fighting, too.

As it happened, Polly and Asher weren’t fighting. Asher had reached the landing first, and turned to Polly, still angry.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. My sister is kind of . . . difficult.” He was flushed, upset, and Polly shook her head.

“All families fight. But you were kind of a dick.”

Asher was surprised. “She started it.”

Polly shook her head again. “Nope. I was there for the whole thing and you definitely had a hand in it from the beginning. Sorry not sorry, that’s the truth.”

He stared at her. “You’re very blunt, aren’t you?”

“Only about other people,” she said. “I’m completely in denial about my own shortcomings.” She stopped abruptly. “Oh crap, the burgers.”

Asher was calming down and realized hunger might have had something to do with the scene in the kitchen. “I can still go.”

“Are you hungry?”