On the weekend of the Gallows Lounge shooting, the snowshoer and I were not expecting to expose Em to a crowd. We’d already declined to be interviewed about the shooting. Mr. Barlow would forever be identified as the only hero; as Nora’s cousin, I was usually referred to as the novelist or the bestselling author. Naturally, we would protect Em from interviewers. As Em would one day act out for me, pantomimists are always misquoted.

For two nights, when Em would lie down in bed with me or Mr. Barlow, she lay back on the pillow, as straight and unmoving as a cadaver in a coffin. All day Saturday, Elliot and I were transporting Em’s belongings from her Hell’s Kitchen apartment to the snowshoer’s pied-à-terre on East Sixty-fourth Street. Em went with us; she seemed to understand that we were moving her out. She packed her own clothes; she carried things to and from the car. Em had more books than clothes; there were more pages of her writing in progress than I’d expected. She wanted all the photos—the photos of Nora, too—but Em wouldn’t touch or look at Nora’s clothes. No one mentioned Nora’s double-barreled twelve-gauge or Em’s long-barreled .357 Magnum. Em never touched or looked at the guns. The little English teacher told her that Molly and Ray would take care of everything we left behind. Em didn’t nod or shake her head; watching her closely, we noticed she was biting her lower lip. That Saturday night, when we’d moved Em’s clothes into the smaller bedroom of Mr. Barlow’s apartment, I told Em that this bedroom would be all hers once I went back to Vermont. When Em crossed her index fingers, giving me the X sign, I thought she meant she didn’t want me to go. I was relieved to see a reaction from her, any reaction at all. I was also moved to tears by the thought that Em might miss me, but when I tried to hug her, she pushed me away. Em stomped off to Elliot’s little living room. There was a worktable; it served as a desk, where we’d told Em to put her writing materials. I’d written on that worktable; I liked writing there.