She lifted the book to show the glasses lying in her lap. She touched the glasses.
‘I do not see well. You would think I would wear my glasses, but no. I walk around for years now, hiding them, seeing nothing. But tonight, even without glasses, I see. A great whiteness passes below in the dark. So white! And I put on my glasses quickly!’
‘The suit, as I said,’ said Martinez.
‘The suit for a little moment, yes, but there is another whiteness above the suit.’
‘Another?’
‘Your teeth! Oh, such white teeth, and so many!’
Martinez put his hand over his mouth.
‘So happy, Mr Martinez,’ she said. ‘I have not often seen such a happy face and such a smile.’
‘Ah,’ he said, not able to look at her, his face flushing now.
‘So you see,’ she said, quietly, ‘the suit caught my eye, yes, the whiteness filled the night, below. But, the teeth were much whiter. Now, I have forgotten the suit.’
Martinez flushed again. She too was overcome with what she had said. She put her glasses on her nose, and then took them off, nervously, and hid them again. She looked at her hands and at the door above his head.
‘May I –’ he said, at last.
‘May you –’
‘May I call for you,’ he asked, ‘when next the suit is mine to wear?’
‘Why must you wait for the suit?’ she said.
‘I thought –’
‘You do not need the suit,’ she said.
‘But –’
‘If it were just the suit,’ she said, ‘anyone would be fine in it. But no, I watched. I saw many men in that suit, all different, this night. So again I say, you do not need to wait for the suit.’
‘Madre mía, madre mía!’ he cried, happily. And then, quieter,
‘I will need the suit for a little while. A month, six months, a year. I am uncertain. I am fearful of many things. I am young.’
‘That is as it should be,’ she said.
‘Good night, Miss –’
‘Celia Obregon.’
‘Celia Obregon,’ he said and was gone from the door.
The others were waiting, on the roof of the tenement. Coming up through the trapdoor, Martinez saw they had placed the dummy and the suit in the centre of the roof and put their blankets and pillows in a circle round it. Now they were lying down. Now a cooler night was blowing here, up in the sky.
Martinez stood alone by the suit, smoothing the lapels, talking half to himself.
‘Aye, caramba, what a night! Seems ten years since seven o’clock, when it all started and I had no friends. Two in the morning, I got all kinds of friends …’ He paused and thought, Celia Obregon, Celia Obregon. ‘… all kinds of friends,’ he went on. ‘I got a room, I got clothes. You tell me. You know what?’ He looked around at the men lying on the rooftop, surrounding the dummy and himself. ‘It’s funny. When I wear this suit, I know I will win at pool, like Gomez. A woman will look at me like Dominguez. I will be able to sing like Manulo, sweetly. I will talk fine politics like Villanazul. I’m strong as Vamenos. So? So, tonight, I am more than Martinez. I am Gomez, Manulo, Dominguez, Villanazul, Vamenos. I am everyone. Ay … ay …’ He stood a moment longer by this suit which could save all the ways they sat or stood or walked. This suit which could move fast and nervous like Gomez or slow and thoughtfully like Villanazul or drift like Dominguez who never touched ground, who always found a wind to take him somewhere. This suit which belonged to them, but which also owned them all. This suit that was – what? A parade.
‘Martinez,’ said Gomez. ‘You going to sleep?’
‘Sure. I’m just thinking.’