The children laughed.  Michael watched with a frown as they crowded around the tiny play-table.  His sister was seated on the floor at the head.  Of course, she couldn’t sit on one of the play-chairs.  The chairs could easily support the weight of the six- and seven-year-olds she was playing with, but were much too small for her fifty-six-year-old body.

Sure wish her mind would catch up to her body, Michael grumbled to himself as he watched her pour invisible tea from the plastic pot.  

There was nothing wrong with her mind or body at all, the doctors had said.  Perfectly healthy.  More healthy, in fact, than most people her age.  She just likes to play, they told him.  It’s not surprising.  

Michael wasn’t surprised.  She and Theo had always lived in their own little world.  Always making up stories, playing games, no matter how old they grew.  They were twins, people said, it was to be expected.  What was truly surprising was her reaction to his death.

She hadn’t cried once since his death, though she never seemed to stop crying while he was in the hospital.  She had lived there, with Theo, in his room, always by his side.  

But now, she was always pretending.

“Oh, Theo,” she called across the room, “I didn’t see you there, come join us, will you?  These biscuits are absolutely scrumptious.”  She pretended to nibble on the end of a plastic croissant.

Michael flinched at the name.  It’s part of her game, the doctors had said.  It’s quite possible that she is in denial of her brother’s death.  She probably takes comfort in pretending you are him.  Michael knew that wasn’t true, though.  He and Lily had never been as close as she and Theo.  You could see it in the way they looked at each other, in the way they touched hands, in the way they spoke.  Lily knew he wasn’t her lost twin, she still treated him exactly the same as she always had; she just seemed to have the names mixed up.

“No, Lily, it’s me, Michael,” he spoke gently, though he knew he wouldn’t upset her.

She giggled.  A high-pitched titter, as though he’d just made a joke.  As though he’d said ‘No, it’s me, Superman.’

“Everyone, it’s okay if Theo joins us, isn’t it?  Does anybody mind?”  A delighted ‘no, Miss Lily’ came from each child.

The children still spoke to her with respect.  She was, after all, an adult.  Michael wondered why her boss at the daycare center still allowed her to work.  She should be at home resting, or in a nursing home—where her condition could be taken care of.  Even if it wasn’t an official condition.  His mouth twisted to the side in a scowl as she scooted over and patted the carpet next to her.  

It was difficult to resist her smile.  After a moment he sighed and crossed the room to sit with her.  

She beamed and set up a plastic plate and silverware in front of him.  

“Would you like some tea, Mr. Theo?” one of the children held out a teacup.

“Um…” Michael hesitated, uncomfortable.

“Of course he would, Stacy,” Lily reached across and took the cup.  She tilted the spout of the teapot over it and then set in carefully on the table.  “There you are,” she smiled widely at him again.

He frowned again as she began to chat with the children.  Every word they said irritated him more and more.  Oh, my, this jelly is absolutely splendid, isn’t it, Carol?  Why yes, Miss Lily, and don’t you just love these strawberries?  Absolutely ripe, aren’t they, Theo?  And what about the butter, Theo, there aren’t crumbs in it, are there, Theo?  What do you think, Theo?  Theo?

He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.  He wanted to scream at her, to make her give up her game.  

He stood and quickly walked away from the table.  

Their protests followed him, so he escaped to the bathroom.  For some reason, he felt like throwing up.  He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down.  Washed his face.

He stepped outside and almost bumped into a little boy who was waiting outside the door.

He started to mumble an apology, but the boy interrupted.

“Mister, are you okay?  You look like you been crying.”

“Er…well, I…” Michael hadn’t realized he looked that bad.

The boy glanced over in the direction of Lily’s tea party.  “I know,” he said, his voice suddenly sullen, “I don’t like playing with them either.  Their tea-game is so stupid.”  He shook his head and sighed heavily, “sometimes Stacy wants me to play.  That’s Stacy there, see?”  He pointed.  “She’s my sister.  Isn’t Miss Lily your sister?”

Michael nodded and moved out of the doorway.  The kid headed in.

“Well, you know how it is, then, mister,” he called over his shoulder, “that’s just what brothers do.  Even if it’s stupid.  Sisters can’t get along very well on their own.  And besides,” he grabbed the handle and pulled the door to shut it, “it’s just a game.”

Michael stood there for a moment.  A game?  Just a game?  No.  She was an adult, not a child.  She needed to grow up, get back to reality.  She needed to accept the truth.  She needed to remember his name.  And use it, for Christ’s sake.  

He watched as Lily’s boss knelt down and said something in his sister’s ear.  She smiled and nodded.  Said something back.  Her boss walked away, and Lily turned back to the table.  Two boys, playing what looked like tag (or maybe tackle) went tearing past the tea party.  Michael saw the toy in their way and jerked forward, calling out a warning, but he was too late.  The runner missed the toy, but the chaser’s foot came down right on it.  He cried out and flailed his arms wildly, pin-wheeling them instead of trying to catch himself.  

Lily’s arms caught him instead.  She pulled him back onto his feet and picked up the toy, smiling, saying something Michael couldn’t hear.  The kid nodded, looking a little freaked out, a little chastised, but eager to get back to playing.  His eyes flickered toward his friend.  Lily handed him the toy, shaking her head, cutting her safety speech short.  He took off at a jog, but it quickly turned into a full sprint as his friend began to escape.

Lily turned to the table and Michael saw the child come back to her eyes.  She chattered with her playmates happily, gesturing fluently as she spoke.  

The bathroom door opened and the kid came out.  He glanced up at Michael, who hadn’t moved much, and raised an eyebrow before wandering off.  

A small, guilty smile of relief crept onto Michael’s face.  A child could see it better than he could.  Maybe he should spend more time playing.

He walked across the room and sat back down next to his sister.