The sun was coming up, the morning glow.

The front window of Paulie's apartment was lighting up in an ethereal orange, like burning stargazer lilies through the patterned curtain. The speckles of rain were catching behind it, glittering through and looking heavenly, though there was no heaven here.

I was alone, though I wasn't really alone. Ganya was outside the window, down below, five storeys down in his car. Keeping watch still. Sasha had gone, he was in the club with everyone else, making fake smiles and downing strong alcohol no doubt.

I was in my wheelchair in the living room off the kitchen, sat in front of the couch doing nothing and watching the light. It was growing brighter.

I'd been here since 9pm when Sasha left. What time was it now? It didn't matter.

Antony Caselotti was free, so nothing mattered. Not really.

Beyond the window, I heard the sound of a rattling car five storeys down. Blurry in my mind, I recognized that sound. But I can't say I cared. Slumped over in my chair, staring straight ahead with eyes too dry from not blinking too much, there was nothing going through my mind and yet everything at the same time was in my heart. Rolling and rumbling on.

I didn't jump when I heard five familiar knocks in quick succession, didn't move when a key bit into the lock. Didn't shift when the door swung open.

"Hey, Georgina! I brought you some spaghetti. I ordered it for you. We went out after work, thought it would be nice. But we were thinking about you the whole time, so I ordered you some dinner...or should I say breakfast. It's morning. Good morning!" Paulie was beaming at me, incredibly. He closed the door and set the white paper bag on the table. It sounded substantial.

I felt an obligation to this, though I didn't want to move. "Good morning," I said without much breath. My head turned to him and he was giving me a questioning smile, his head cocked to the side a little bit.

My eyes narrowed, staring him over. Looking at his face, studying. There was a long pause, and he looked as he were about to speak again when I decided to wheel my chair over there. For sure I'd been studying his face for any sign of drink or drug, but he just seemed normal happy. Unbothered. It was incredible to me, because I was so bothered.

"Here, I'll set it up. Did you eat? Did Sasha make you something? ...Oh wait, right. He can't cook. What did you eat?" He was carrying on like nothing at all was the matter. How could he?

"I had a sandwich," I offered, not much more I could say. He was quickly unloading the white bag with loud sounds the spaghetti was revealed to be wrapped in a tin bowl with aluminum foil.

"Oh shoot, ouch. Still hot," he tisked at the bowl, setting it down with a thump on the table. "That's a good sign, though. If I heated it up again it would lose flavor."

"Mm-hm."

I was staring at the bowl as he unwrapped it carefully despite the heat. Staring and staring. I didn't realize how odd this would seem until he spoke again. His hands stopped their work, and I noticed his nails were painted purple, as he always liked.

"How you doin'?" he asked, a mid-western drawl coming out. I knew he didn't mean to. He was taking a plastic fork out of the bag quickly, napkins.

"I'm not okay," I admitted. My hands in my lap started to twist the mid-length skirt I was wearing.

"No? Why not? ...Oh shoot, did you get to take your pain medication? They said you could take another pill every eight hours. Did you get one?" He was staring at me now, concern all over his brow. I noticed there was a new wrinkle there. When had that come about? He wasn't even that old, last time I checked.

"Yeah, I took it."

"Oh, okay..." He paused immediately, then looked back at me perplexed. "How did you get the water for that?"

My hands gripped my skirt too hard, thinking about it. I remembered it clearly, that pain. But I'd gotten through it. It hadn't seemed as much as before, though just marginally. It was impossible to me, but it was so. "Um...I stood up and got it."

Paulie stared at me, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open. But then his face collapsed into a kind-hearted grin. "That's my girl!" He said, the warmest words ever, so proud, so full of relief. "You feeling better?" My heart bloomed a little at this, missing this.

"A little."

"I'm so glad to hear it. Really. We were talking about you at dinner. Sasha was so worried."

Sasha. What we'd been discussing when he left. Of course he was worried. We'd been talking about Miracle all day, nonstop. He'd been getting more bothered by the minute it seemed, and by the time he'd left he'd been convinced that Eddie or Antony or both were going to burst through that door. The look of anguish on his face. How he'd hugged me close, my head on his chest and him cradling my head like he'd never see me again. He'd been utterly convinced.

But wait. Sasha. He'd told me, to... Paulie was so happy...

"Did Sasha tell you?" I asked, feeling a weight in these words, making me sorely uncomfortable in my chest.

"Tell me what? Oh wait, did Sasha know you were feeling better? He didn't tell me?!" Paulie looked delighted.

Oh god, Paulie's grin. How long had it been since he'd smiled like this? Could smile like this? It made me uneasy. God his smile. I couldn't...

What would his reaction be if I told Antony Caselotti was out of jail? Miracle had been Paulie's friend, too. He never spoke of her, but I knew they'd known each other really well. In fact, that night when we were at the club, Miracle had asked for him. It seemed like they knew each other really well. She'd asked for him and wanted...

Wait a minute.

Paulie was looking through a cabinet now, grinning. "I'll give you the best plate I have. No chips! You deserve it. This is cause for celebration, isn't it? You're getting better! I feel like my baby stood up for the first time!" He was positively chirping like a bird.

My eyes narrowed. Ganya's voice flashed in my head, from so long ago it seemed. The darkness of my apartment, my urine stained nightgown and that acidic smell. Sasha's warm smell as I'd buried my head in it. Ganya's booming voice, telling him no. What had he been saying? "If I don't interrogate her now, other people will!" What had they been talking about? About Miracle. About Heroin.

My hands let my skirt loose, my mouth opened.

Miracle had been on heroin. Ganya saying if they could figure out that the Caselottis were dealing her that heroin, then they could throw the book at them and this would all be over.

Was that what he'd said? I couldn't remember.

But now I'd remembered something else.

Paulie was beaming like a Disney Princess, like he could start dancing and singing like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty with woodland animals at any second. He was that happy. In the light, I studied him, knowing what I knew now. My entire perspective hadn't changed, he was still the same Paulie. But what I knew now.

His skin looked so clear. It had color back. He looked younger, healthier. Transformed. He seemed so healthy now. I could tell for sure he wasn't on drugs, wasn't drinking. Wasn't smoking, even. This as all such a huge change for him. He'd been smoking since he was fourteen and drinking since he was fifteen. I knew that. He'd told me he'd been on drugs since he was nineteen. Nineteen! And he was thirty-three now. To be off that, trying so hard. He'd told me how hard he'd been trying when I was in the hospital, how he admired me, that I could stop drinking and smoking like I did. How that gave him strength, knowing that.

God, what right did I have...

He swooped around, a perfect plate in his hand, a wooden serving spoon. He began plating the spaghetti, hot plumes coming up as he mixed it around, pockets of heat being uncovered.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked happily. "Oh wait, do you like chocolate milk? I have some syrup, I have milk. You want some? I could go for some, too. That would be great."

Chocolate milk. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, taking it in. Just six months ago his immediate reaction, my immediate reaction, would have been to take out a couple of beers without having to ask. But I'd been in his fridge a few hours ago. There was not a bottle to be found. Not that I was looking. And that amazed me, too. Floored me. How I didn't want a beer even though I was feeling so-

He turned his back to me, leaning over in his fridge. I stared at his clothes. His purple shirt looked so neat, clean. His jeans were perfect, not a rip or anything. He was doing so well. My hands gripped my skirt again. God, what could I do? I couldn't bring any of this stuff up to him right now.

Not when he was doing so well.

The fridge swung shut and he gave me a little smile as he went to open a drawer, taking out a long metal spoon. With this, he finally sat down across from me. And this brought me back to another memory, so distant now.

A memory of a time just like this, the same positions at the table, when he'd been breaking down in front of me. Christmastime. The day after we'd been at the club, saw Miracle. What he'd said to me then, about not being sure if he was going to get to go to heaven, about his guilt and everything.

Then another memory, streaming to me. Where I'd remembered this thing, but in full on memory.

He'd been crying then, telling me what was on the edge of my lips now. How he'd been Miracle's drug dealer. The image of him cutting brown powder from a block on the bar. His words in the bedroom with Cha Cha. How he'd been a drug dealer to all of them in that club. How he couldn't stop.

I was frozen. I couldn't grasp the gravity of this.

"Here you go, hot and fresh. I know it's not the same as going out with us, but maybe when you feel better we can all go out? Celebrate? We didn't get to celebrate my birthday either, you and I. But we'll celebrate later. Oh hey, your birthday is coming up, too! When is that, May 12th?" He pushed the plate of spaghetti towards me gently, placed the cup of cold chocolate milk next to it. He'd been stirring it as I'd been thinking engrossed in making it perfect for me.

He loved me so much.

I swallowed. What was I supposed to do?

"Um, yeah. My birthday is coming up. I forgot," I said instead of what I really wanted to say. These things. They were poisoning me already. Staring at him, Miracle's face was right next to his in my brain. How long... How long had he been her drug dealer? When did they come to know each other? Who introduced them, how had they known each other-

"You're too young to forget your birthday! You start forgetting at thirty, I swear. But you're going to be twenty-five. That's still young, trust me!" He looked fake appalled, breaking into a grin and incredibly he was laughing. Just laughing, the most beautiful sound.

But I felt disgusted in my heart. The poison seeping through.

Because before me was the man who had been dealing Miracle heroin. For how long? For how goddamn long? Did he have anything to do with her...being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doing those things that night. But I realized, thinking these things, that I didn't actually know any details.

I didn't know anything. I didn't actually know anything about her death.

Giving him a now fake smile to his laugh, staring at his happy face, I didn't know what to do. I was helpless. Helpless to help her, helpless in this chair. And it killed me.

But before I could think much more, the phone rang. The light from the windows was barely reaching the kitchen, and the phone was ringing. Who would call this early? He beamed at me, and got up from the table.

"Eat. That's probably Sasha. He's coming in the afternoon. I have to go midtown today. I got a job painting, can you believe it? Like my old job? Resumes works for something, I guess!" His voice was so full of merriment. I didn't blame him. My heart was curling in my chest, loving his smile but what he did... Could you still love a person but hate what they did? Love them, even though...

"Hello?" He said on the phone, catching it and putting it to his ear. I watched him, not eating as he'd asked me, too. Suddenly I was very interested about who was on the other end. Suspicious, but unsure as to if I had any right-

"What?" His voice went low. My eyes narrowed as he went wide. "Valencia? What are you doing calling me- Shh, uno momento. What? Don't say my Spanish sucks, how are you gonna- Wait, okay? Wait." He sounded surprised. I'd never heard him speak Spanish before. Didn't even know he knew any. What in the world?

Somehow there was a doom in my heart. Who was on the phone with him? He gave me a small smile again and began wrapping the long cord around into the living room. The cord stretched and stretched, and before long he was in the bathroom. The squeaky hinges scraped on my ears as the door closed with a slam, making me jump.

Just what was going on? In front of me, the spaghetti had stopped steaming. It was going to get cold. But thinking of Paulie now, hearing his muffled words through the walls, I suddenly had no appetite. Knowing what he'd done to Miracle, I couldn't eat.

It was only when my thoughts came around to Sasha, knowing he'd want me fed, did I pick up my plastic fork.