Tears of self-pity came into Kate's eyes. She looked away, partly because trying to focus made her dizzy and partly because she could not look at Erika's face. "I’ll move out. I know I'm just a bother. I'm no good for you."

"Don't be silly."

"It's true. I'm no good for anybody."

"I can't talk to you when you're like this."

It didn't help to look away. She knew how Erika's face looked, the steady eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the tender expression. It was the same face that had looked down on her after love, proud and gentle at the same time. Pleased because she was happy—sad now because she was behaving badly.

It was evil to hurt Erika, who had already been hurt so badly. She thought about the scar across Erika's face, the blue numbers on her arm and the deeper hurts, unseen. She said in reluctant self-defense, "I wasn't so bad this time, was I?"

"You didn't have time to be."

It was true. The half-filled bottle stood on the dresser. Her own dresser—she couldn't have used Erika's room for this, not after the previous night. She said, "Why don't you pour out the rest?"

"What good would that do? The trouble isn't in the bottle."

She had been in the rocking chair when Erika came home from school, vague and sleepy, unable to focus her eyes or her mind—but not what she thought of as really drunk. She could walk straight, for instance. She hadn't started crying. She could talk to Erika when she came in—for a moment she had even hoped that Erika wouldn't know, but of course that was silly.

She said, "It would be better if you let me get really sick. Then I'd be all right for a while."

Erika opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. She put the lid back on the coffee can and reached up to replace it on the shelf. She turned the burner down and stood watching it, her neck bent. The electric coil glowed orange in the little kitchen area. Erika took down two clean cups. She asked in a flat conversational voice, as if it didn't really matter, "What started it this time?"

Kate shook her head. She was tired and she ached all over. "I went to the agency," she said. "There were two girls there, right in the same row, just kids." Her throat hurt. "Like us, only kids."

"Nobody is like anybody else."

"You know what I mean."

"I know. People have these stupid ideas. But that doesn't mean anything. That's not why you do this."

"Then what is?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew."

The coffee glugged fiercely. Erika turned the burner down. Kate said, "I suppose you think I should go to a headshrinker or something. I went to Doctor Liebermann for a year. I told you, every week for a year. I went without lunches so I could pay him. I even went without stockings in winter."