Amber made a face to indicate her disgust, “Phewww,” she exclaimed through pursed lips. “The womens ’round here’bouts must be blind and crazy, ain’t one of them grabbed hold of you yet. I tell you, if I was my old self, I’d make a run for you, yes, I would.”

“That’s sweet of you, Amber, and very flattering.”

Just then, Sandy stepped closer and announced, “I’ll wait outside so you two can talk. I’ll be out on the porch having a cigarette if you need me.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Okay, Sandy.”

Amber watched the retreating Sandy wordlessly. When the door closed she looked up at me again.

“She scared,” the dying girl said matter-of-factly. “She scared to be close to me—to be close to somebody that’s dying. It like they think they gonna catch it theyself—like death gonna jump off a me and grab them, too.

“My sister, Naomi—she who live here with me—her and her husband, Willamon—she scared, too, but not fo’ herself, she scared fo’ me. But them church ladies? You know who they is, them big hat ladies? Them do-gooders? They come one time, on account of Naomi go to they church, but soon as they laid eyes on me they trot they big asses right out that front do’, ’cause they scared. They scared I got AIDS, and they say that God give that disease to vile sinners as punishment fo’ they perversions. Naomi tried to tell ’em it ain’t AIDS, that I got pancreatic cancer. But I tell her it don’t make no difference to me. I don’t want them self-righteous bitches up in here no way and no how.”

Amber then shifted her hands and took mine in hers.

“But you ain’t,” she whispered as she looked deeply into my eyes. “You ain’t scared, are you? You ain’t scared of me at all.”

I held her look and behind those burning and luminescent eyes I felt that I could catch just the faintest glimpse of the timeless and beautifully animated being that resided behind those windows on the soul.

“No, I’m not. But how about you, Amber? Are you frightened?”

She held me with her eyes and gently rubbed my hands between hers.

“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “I ain’t scared. Not no mo’. I was at first—and then I was mad—mad as all hell, but then that went away, too, that and bein’ scared. And after that, I was just sad. Real sad and real lonely.”

“Amber, is there anything I can do to help?”

She squeezed my hands and smiled.