Two

Dear Aly,

I miss you. Sometimes I catch myself thinking about who I'd have to kill to get in there with you, but I know I couldn't guarantee we'd be together if I went through with it, and I know you'd be really angry at me for throwing my life away. But the truth is, without you I don't feel like I have a life at all. I'd rather be in there with you than out here without you.

Mickey and I broke up last night. We had a fight. He said something about you and I broke a plate over his head. I don't think he'll file any assault charges—you know how he is—but I'm still kind of regretting what I did. It was a nice plate, and I don't like to break things in your house. I've been keeping it clean and tidy for you, just the way you like it, except that Mephistopheles is still puking on the rug all the time. I think he misses you as much as I do.

I want to know how you're doing. Are you talking to the lawyer about how you can get eligible for parole? Just play nice, do what those pricks tell you to do, and stay out of trouble. I'm coming to see you next week, so I'll tell you everything else then. I know they read your mail.

Love,

Luciana

I folded the letter for the third time in two minutes and creased it smoothly, holding it against my face. If I tried, I could almost smell my sister's hand lotion. Vanilla Sugar. It was a welcome addition to the stink of three hundred women with poor hygiene. The air in solitary never seems to circulate properly.

I had been given the luxury of a blue crayon and one sheet of paper. With my thumbnail, I shaved the crayon to a fine point and began to write my reply.

Dear Luciana,

It's safe to assume that I'll never go before a parole board; I killed a woman two days ago, and they really don't approve of that sort of thing. It will be best for both of us if you let the notion go.

I certainly had. It had been a choice between living in a prison cell and dying in one. Not a difficult decision.

I'm happy to hear that you've finally gotten rid of that horrible boyfriend, although I am sorry it had to happen the way it did. As hypocritical of me as it may be to say this, I do wish you would be more careful. Learn from my actions; discretion is more rewarding than passion. Do what you must, but weigh the value of every course against another. Never allow your heart to rule your mind.

I sighed, adding, Try changing Mephistopheles' food—something lighter, less rich. Allow him plenty of exercise outside. That should help.

Ever,

Alessandra

I sealed the envelope and knew my reply would be dissatisfying to her. Luciana loved me so much that it blinded her. I had been in prison for three years, and still she wrote as though I had only just arrived. It wasn't real to her, even after all this time, and I had begun to wonder if it ever would be. A horrible image wafted into my mind of her ten years older and still waiting, still keeping my house clean, still feeding my pets. It was awful. That was not the sort of life I wanted for her. We had survived so much already. It couldn't have been for nothing, for this.

I glanced down and realized with some surprise that my nails were gouging red half-moons into my palms. The crayon lay broken in my left hand, and I crushed it resolutely against the concrete floor. In part, it was because once begun, I never like to leave an action unfinished. But if I was truly honest with myself, it was because I knew that I was in danger of writing more, a post-script of self-pity and loneliness, and that would only have inflamed my sister's sense of duty and loyalty to me. She might have done something foolish and, in the end, futile.