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.»
«What?»
«If we ever get rich,» said Martinez, softly, «it'll be kind of sad. Then we'll all have suits. And there won't be no more nights like tonight. It'll break up the old gang. It'll never be the same after that.»
The men lay thinking of what had just been said.
Gomez nodded, gently.
«Yeah… it'll never be the same… after that.» Martinez lay down on his blanket. In darkness, with the others, he faced the middle of the roof and the dummy, which was the centre of their lives.
And their eyes were bright, shining, and good to see in the dark as the neon lights from nearby buildings flicked on, flicked off, flicked on, flicked off, revealing and then vanishing, revealing and then vanishing, their wonderful white vanilla ice-cream summer suit.
