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what was troubling him a few seconds before. What if she proves to be someone who ll stand by him no
matter how bad things get, what if the pain in his head hasn t gone away, it s just dormant, and instead of
viewing death as a solution, one he feared but came to rely on, he now comes to view it as something
miserable and dread? The darkness ahead will be tricky to negotiate, and the simple trials of what he s
already starting to characterize as his old life seem, despite blood and attrition, unattainably desirable. But
no good thing can arise from such futile longing, he realizes. Loving Amandla has taught him that.
Between two department stores, two great, diffuse masses of white light, there s an alley, a doorway,
a dark interval of some sort, and as they pass, Mears draws Arlene into it and pulls her tightly to him,
needing a moment to get his bearings. The blackness of street and sky is so uniform, it looks as if you
could walk a black curve up among the blinking red and green lights, and as Arlene s breasts flatten
against him, he feels like he is going high, like it feels when the man in the tuxedo tells you that you ve
won and the pain is washed away by perfect exhilaration and sweet relief. Then, as if jolted forward by
the sound of a bell, he steps out into the crowds, becoming part of them, just another fool with short
money and bad health and God knows what kind of woman trouble, who in another time might have
been champion of the world.
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