I took the last sip of coffee from the styrofoam cup and held it out to the policeman for a refill.

There was a brownish color of old blood on the cup where I held it and dried blood was caked

beneath my short fingernails as I reached for the full cup a minute later. The rotund officer sat

on the chair opposite me and wheeled closer, leaning into me. His hands were clasped

under his fleshy chin as he watched me drink. "Tell me." he urged softly. I was aware of his

kindness but I could care less if he got another word out of me. I spoke for my own sake, needing

to remember exactly why I was sitting in a dank apartment a few hundred miles from my

home, feeling like death.

    "See, I made a bet with myself yesterday. I was looking out the window and decided that if the

next car to drive by was blue I would stay at home. Well, the next two cars were blue. It didn't

matter. I couldn't think of anything but going to see Adam to work out our latest argument.

I was on the highway within the hour, crawling through the snow with the rest of the cars. It

got so bad a few times that I had to pull over because my windshield kept freezing. At one

point I almost turned back for home.

    It was always a long ride to the city when I drove it alone. I was thinking of how many times

I'd driven that route, how I had continued to love Adam even after he moved there and his visits

became shorter and fewer. He was pushing me away, getting used to New York and I wasn't

part of that busy future. I watched him disappear little by little and when I tried to hold on

it was like I was a ghost. I was the one vanishing and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Mascara-ed tears stung my eyes as I reached the East Village. It was just past 11 when I

climbed the 5 flights to Adam's door. I heard Otis Redding crooning from inside loudly and I

knocked several times before I got an answer. The deadbolt slid back and Adam stood there, a

cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. He was agitated, I could see that right away. "What are

you doing here?" he demanded. My heart sunk further. "I want to talk." I said feebly. His hand

was still on the door jam as if he would shut it at any moment. The phone suddenly ringing

distracted him and I let myself in, locking the deadbolt behind me. A few minutes later he

came out of the bedroom, crossed his hands over his chest and leaned silently against the

doorway. I wanted to cry, really, but instead I coughed and cleared my throat. "I came all

this way, please talk to me." I pleaded. He lit another cigarette and sat down on the torn couch

that he'd found on the street when he moved here.

    "Look, I didn't ask you to come here. Forget about the fight- it doesn't matter." I felt the tears

welling up again. "It does matter- to me anyway." Adam seemed indifferent to my words.

"Are you in love with someone else?" I blurted out. Silence. He pushed his fingers through his

long dark hair. "What difference does it make? Things have changed. I wanted to get away

from you, don't you get that?!" Every word from his mouth was a dagger reaching its target.

I understood. There was someone else of course, but there always had been. No matter who it

was, he'd always come back to me. I was a safe place for him. I understood him better than any

of these others. He'd even said that to me a few times, and I still believed him. The coldness in

his voice now frightened me in a way it never had before.

    "There's no reason for us to argue, is there?" I moved closer to the couch and he rose, stepping

to the side to avoid me. "I have plans tonight," he muttered, "after I eat something I'm leaving.

You can't stay here. "

    I served no purpose for him now but in the past I had lent him money, got a car for him, gave

him a place to stay without asking for anything in return. It was easy to be generous with

Adam. I know I'm not painting a very nice picture of him right now, but he could be so sweet

when he came onto you- you'd just want it to last forever. No one ever made me feel as good as

he did. My head was down as he said these words and I watched a cockroach crawl from the

cat's litter box. I had to stay. I wasn't going to say goodbye.

    "Let me eat with you and then I'll go. I haven't had anything all day." The snow might let up

by then. " He sighed and handed me two boxes of macaroni and cheese. "There's milk and butter

in the fridge. I'm going to take a shower." He moved down the cramped hallway and Sasha, his

cat, came to rub against my leg. I picked her up and saw more cockroaches scurrying beneath

the stove. They didn't bother me as much as the rat I saw on my first visit here. It scared me so

much that I made sure to bring D-Con poison with me the next time. I looked under the sink and

the half-empty box of it was still there.

    Adam came out of the shower, whistling and wrapping a towel around his waist. "It's ready."

I called out as I scooped the macaroni onto two plates and set them down at the counter. "Mac

and cheese, what a meal." he grunted as he took the first forkful in his mouth. "Well, there's

bread and butter too." I said, neatly buttering the last two pieces from a week-old loaf. Adam

turned to me, the edges of his lips stained with the glowing orange cheese sauce. "Can you get

the milk?" he asked, and as I poured a glass for him he helped himself to what was left in the pan.

I sat there watching Adam eat, and I thought that he never looked more beautiful than he did at

that moment. I vaguely wondered what the girl he was supposed to meet looked like. It didn't

matter really, she would never understand him.

    I hadn't touched my plate of food, but I brought it to the sink, and began to run the water,

filling it with suds. Adam dropped his dish into the bubbles, and I began to wash. 5 minutes,

maybe less- I heard him vomiting in the hall and when I turned he was face down on the

wooden floor. I was shaking and crying. Everything was blurring as I turned him over. God,

how pale he looked. His wet hair clung to the sides of his face and neck as if he'd just gone

swimming, and his face was mottled with sweat.

    I'm not sure why, but I tried to get him to stand. He's so tall, all I could do was drag him a little,

but he couldn't stop vomiting. It must've been a half hour before he stopped and was still. He

managed to faintly ask for me to call an ambulance. I assured him I would, and went toward the

kitchen phone, lifting the receiver and dialing a 3 digit nonsense number. I returned with a wet

cloth and wiped his face and chest down. A curious feeling went through me, that he might

thank God I had been there to help him, to care for him as I always had. Maybe he would regret

trying to get away from me. Maybe I should really call the ambulance. I still loved him. I would

always love him.

    I went toward the phone again, but I passed it and instead got a glass of water. When I

returned he was trying to lift his head and I held the glass up to his lips. I held my hand beneath

his back to support him and that's when I felt the cold blade. He was holding the knife here,

beneath my breast. Somehow he'd figured out what I had done and this horrified me more than

the fact that I had done it.

    I struggled with him, surprised that he had the strength to hold the knife so precisely.

Awkwardly I grabbed at the blade and it burned as the edge of it sliced my palm. I kept pushing,

feeling him grow weaker and finally the knife fell to the floor and I grabbed it. Adam took hold of

my hair and pulled me toward him and then his hands were at my throat. My bloody hands

tried clumsily to loosen his grip, but they slid away over and over. I grew dizzy and at last fell

backward against the pressure. I saw the rage in his eyes and I thought I would die, but even

then I only wanted to please him.

    I groped for the knife and when I had it in my grasp I stabbed at his arm, hoping he would let

go. I stuck him with it so many times, and he winced over and over but wouldn't let go.

I don't know what finally did it but Adam doubled over and his heavy body collapsed on top of

me. He was still, and I could hear only a faint wheezing coming from his throat. I lay there,

listening to it for a few minutes before I pushed out from under him. Crumpled, bloody, he was

still beautiful to me.

    He never meant it really when he said he wanted to get away from me. He'd tried to kill me

because he knew he would die and didn't want me to stay behind. He wanted me to go with

him. He knew that without one another we were nothing. It's been that way for years and years.

My mother used to lock us in our rooms to keep us apart, but Adam was so clever, he'd climb

onto the roof and slip into my window, quick as a breeze.

    I never wanted to kill my brother, you see that, don't you? My heart is still the heart of a ten year

old girl when I felt the warmth of his first kiss, the acceptance of his hand beneath the pink

flannel blanket. I've never loved anyone but Adam. I'm sure even now he's waiting for me with

open arms.

Works