"I have to see you!" I said, "It's really important!".

"I don't know what else we can say to each other..." Mark
replied after a slight pause.

Silence.

"I know I caused you unnecessary pain and I know I'm the
last person on EARTH you want to speak with, right now...
But, pleeeease believe me! I cannot emphasize enough, the
importance of you meeting me." I pleaded.

Silence... again.

"Please..." I said and I could feel a tear building up on
the tip of my left eye. I wasn't going to wipe it of, I
wanted him to see I was crying, I wanted him to hear my
trembling voice and understand I wasn't lying.

"I'll be there in half an hour." He finally said.

"Than..." I tried to thank him, but the sound of his handset
clashing and the silence that followed broke my words.

I looked up to the wall in front of me, dropped the phone
out of my hands and gazed at the mirror. I saw myself
sitting on the corner of my twin-bed with my back pressed
against the wall, crossing my legs in an eastern squat. My
room was dark; only the light of the blue moon drew
triangular strips on my down blanket and reflected by its
pale color allowing me to see myself. I was wearing my
green-blue disintegrating jeans, cream cotton socks with
Winnie the Pooh printing that I loved so much, a navy blue
lycra and Mark's blue plaid flannel shirt, which was about
three sizes bigger then me. I held the dangling sleeves in
my pale, skinny fingers crumbling and pulling its edges,
then griping it firmly and smelling it, trying to remember.
My head ached. "Mark is coming over" I suddenly realized.
There was no time to rest; I had to work on my speech even
though I already had it mapped word-by-word in my sick mind.
After few minutes of contemplation, I got down from my bed,
picked up the underwear and a towel that were thrown on the
floor, walked to the kitchen and boiled some water. "My
hair's a disaster." I thought to myself after catching a
glance of my face in one of Jane's so polished pans. I
didn't fix it. Instead I just took two mugs out of the
cupboard above the kitchen's sink and placed them on the
marble. I opened the second cupboard just to find that
Mark's Jacob's jar was totally empty - "That Jane is so
inconsiderate!" I thought to myself, trying to channel my
frustration. I used my Taster's Choice instead. I know Mark
hates Taster's Choice. The water boiled, I just kept looking
at those two mugs.

The last time I fixed up two mugs of Taster's Choice was on
our third date, when I finally invited him up - I was so
scared that night... looking back, I shouldn't have waited
this long, making love with him for the first time was the
best moment of my life - I think.

A nock on the door - I jumped; didn't expect to see him so
fast. I couldn't move - my knees turned into jelly. Then the
doorbell rang. I swallowed and started moving towards it. I
reached-out a trembling hand to the knob, twisted it and
pulled. Mark stood there, hands in his rear pockets; he wore
his blue-jeans, they were ironed and had a front folding,
like always, a white T-shirt and his wool coat. He was in
his Timberland shoes, but they were not laced. A scent of
Hugo Boss wrapped him - I love that scent, it's intoxicating
and makes me feel all ward and fuzzy inside.

"OK I'm here, are you going to invite me in, or stare at me
the whole time?" He asked, as if he didn't live here with me
for the past year and a half. I wanted to jump him and hold
him a squeeze him real tight, I wanted to feel his chest
clinging against my cheek. But, I knew he wouldn't let me.
"Of course, come on in" I said and raised my arm to point to
the living room. He walked in and sat on the armchair.
"Coffee?" I asked. "Sure..." he replied, "two suga..." we
said together. He smiled. I didn't. I paced to the kitchen,
pressed the kettle's button to re-warm the water. It stopped
after few seconds; I lifted it up and poured my cup first,
so his will be hotter. I steered the two mugs and left the
spoon inside his.

"Here you go..." I said and served him his coffee.
"Thanks."

"So?" Mark asked, holding the mug with both hands, keeping
the spoon in its place with his thumb.

I sat down on the two seat sofa and put my mug on the coffee
table. My head was pounding, I rubbed my forehead with my
left hand, "I love you..." I said, and felt like my eyebrows
squinted a bit towards my nose, "and I'm so so sorry for
what I did."

Mark took a sip of his coffee and said:"We've been through
this before, so many times, why do you think this one will
be different? Is it because you dragged me here at 3:00am?
Or because I you've cried for the first time since we broke
up?" He noticed.

"I'm not trying to get back with you this time; it wouldn't
be fair to you."

"It wouldn't be fair to me, this time!!! What do you
think, it was fair before?" He got angry and put down his
mug.

"Please don't yell at me," That was it! I started crying
like I haven't cried since I was twelve. "I need to explain
something; you will understand everything in a moment."
I pled.

He took a deep breath. "You have 5 minutes." He said in his
determined tone.

Crying, I finally said: "I just want to hold you, one last
time, before..." I stalled.

"Before what?" He seemed interested and attentive.

"Before I say goodbye to you... forever." My tears were not
going to stop in the near future.

"And you think that this heroism, which you should have
spared me - by the way, with... with... that cry, will grant
you another way to hurt me?" he asked.

"The fact that I'm crying has NOTHING to do with you,
OK?!?" I yelled back at him. "So tell me already! What do
you want from me? Why do you torture me like this? Did I
ever do anything wrong to you?" he kept yelling, "Didn't I
always treat you good? Loved you like... like... I don't
know... I loved you like there was nothing else to love..."
He finally lowered his tone, now he was speaking softly,
"And I still do!" He stared into my eyes, I could feel his
hurt. I was shocked! I would have never imagined I will hear
these words from him. Suddenly, my whole speech, the one I
was sure to be infallible, dissolved right before my eyes,
to the mere sight of Mark's suffering. I leaned on the arm
of the sofa trying to get closer to Mark.

"I'm sorry to burden you with this, but..." I stared right
into his left eye - I think it was his left, I can't
remember, maybe I was confused because he was sitting
opposite to me,
"I am..." I started, but couldn't keep my eyes on his, so I
looked down, I took two shallow breaths, pause for a second,
"I'm dying ..." I finally said, "I have a brain tumor" and
after a second or two, I looked back to his face to find him
sitting there all collapsed in his chair, like he was
hanging from his arm-pits, staring at me with a hollow face,
his mouth was semi-opened. He shut his eyes, swallowed, took
a deep breath, paused for a second, opened his eyes again
and looked at me.

"You are wearing my shirt..." He said. I sniffed my nose and
nodded in agreement. "I wanted to feel close to you." I
said. "Is that why you turned my proposal down? Is that why
you kept me away?" Mark asked. I nodded again. "Is that why
you're crying?"

"No..." I blurted, "I'm crying because I wanted us to die
together" I wept.

Mark got up from his chair, kneeled before me and wrapped
his hands around me like only he knew how. I took out my 38
Smith & Wesson Magnum I had stashed in the back of my jeans,
pointed it to his temple and pulled the trigger. Mark fell
right to the floor and the smell of burned gun-powder
overcame his Hugo Boss. I pulled the letter from my back
pocket, slid it between Mark's coffee mug and the table. I
lay down on Mark's warm body placing my right leg between
his thighs, looked into his eyes.

One last pull and then... silence again.