"I'm all right now."

Erika pulled off her loden coat, which was dark with dampness on the shoulders. She hung it in Kate's closet. Her stockings were wet and splattered, her shoes dark with rain. She took them off. She stepped out of her skirt, unbuttoned her long-sleeved blouse and shucked it off. In panties and a narrow bra she was taller and thinner than Kate had thought, and almost flat-chested. Her collar stood out in sharp relief and the small delicate bones of her vertebrae showed plainly when she bent over.

She said to Kate, smiling, "Are you tired? Can I stay for a while?"

Kate's throat was sore with wanting. She said in a thick whisper, "Don't go away at all."

Erika looked at her. "Do you mean that?"

"You know I do."

The two little wisps of cotton joined the other clothes on the floor. She was blonde all over—flaxen, like the princess of a fairy tale. Kate looked at her hungrily. Then for the first time she saw the row of purple numbers inside Erika's left arm, shocking against the clear white skin.

"I used to think I would have them taken off," Erika said. She sounded embarrassed. "Many people did. It's painful and, I think, expensive."

"But you kept them."

"I kept them to remind me," Erika said. "Maybe I learned something from it."

"What?"

"I don't know yet." She stood naked, her head bent, under the hash overhead light. "Maybe that life is short?"

"It'll be shorter if you stand here in the cold.”

Erika laughed. "Do you want the light on?"

"No."

The darkness came as a shock. Red circles moved before her eyes. She waited. Then the covers were turned back and the cold air rushed over her. Erika's hand, gentle and seeking, cupped her breast. "Lovely," Erika said softly. "Are you sure?"

Kate shivered. "Don't go away," she said.

CHAPTER 7

She lay in bed in the morning, after Erika left for school, looking like a different girl in her neat blouse and skirt—remote somehow, even though she dropped her keys on the shiny rayon bedspread before she went. Kate felt that by the simple process of putting on clothes and powdering her nose Erika had put a wall between them. "Don't try to make up your mind about anything now," Erika said, bending to give her a small kiss on the cheek. There wasn't much emotion in it. "Stay in bed. Rest. We can talk tonight."

Kate gathered up all her resistance. Never mind what had happened in the enchanted dark—anybody can make a mistake. "Don't ask me for any promises," she warned. "Never trust an alcoholic for anything. We can't be trusted."

"I don't ask you for anything," Erika said calmly. "If you like to be sick, go ahead. Drink."

Kate shuddered. "I hate it I don't know why I do it."

"I know." Erika fastened her high collar with a small silver pin. She looked aloof and pale. "So all right, I won't ask you for promises. Do what you want."