“The saddest thing,” I said, “is that those guys are so young. They’re kids, really. What do they know?”

“They know enough to kill,” Jesse said. “When killing is a cure. Especially for something you just can’t live with.”

“A cure?”

“For what they may feel inside them. Confused about who they are, so they end up doing anything just to find out what it takes to be a man.”

“And when they see someone who’s different—”

“They attack. They’ve caught something inside them. Who, at fifteen, wants to be called a faggot?”

“Really,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I hope they stay locked up for a long time.” But then I remembered Phillip and tried to take back what I said. Change it at least. “Well, until they learn different.”

Jesse finished his drink before mine was even half-empty. He looked lost in thought. Then he asked if I’d like to see the apartment. His and Metro’s. I wasn’t sure he’d ever want to return there. But he had left a few things behind. “I have to send some of Metro’s stuff to his family. I have to do it sometime. I think I can return there now.”

“You sure it’s gonna be all right?”

“Let’s go,” he said. His calm seemed difficult to believe.

It was hard to imagine Metro’s murder in that neighborhood. But in New York City things can happen anywhere. In New Jersey, too. Truth is, we were all living dangerously. Just look at Phillip, my own brother. I mean, he’d probably push drugs in our neighborhood, right where we grew up, if he had a chance. He didn’t have to go all the way to Manhattan. But I didn’t tell Jesse that, not yet anyway. I just studied his apartment and the sunlight from the windows. His three rooms at the back of the building made the entire place as bright and as quiet as a greenhouse in Connecticut. There were many plants but some were dead from lack of care. If I lived there, I’d never leave.

“Metro was the plant man, not me.”

“You could have brought them to my place,” I said. “Maybe we can still save a few. Some have a little green left.” I took cuttings from a spider plant and a hardier Swedish ivy. I looked from the living room windows at the backs of other buildings. One window had a gate pulled shut from the inside and protected the place from the fire escape. But I didn’t think of protection, really, in that sunny, open space. I thought of Phillip again, looking from his cell. I thought of Jesse. The rooms were suddenly quiet. “Jesse?”

I walked into the back bedroom where there was only a bed and a small writing table. I found him staring into a full closet. Some were Metro’s clothes, some his; I couldn’t tell. By the way Jesse stared at them with something like confusion, I wasn’t sure even he knew which clothes belonged to whom. His eyes were red, heavy. “You all right?” I asked.