A Medicine for Melancholy and Other Stories by Ray Bradbury Read Free Book Online Page B

the men passed. She wore glasses and when she saw Martínez she snatched them off and hid them under her book.
    The others went on, not knowing they had lost Martínez, who seemed stuck fast in the open door.
    For a long moment he could say nothing. Then he said:
    â€œJosé Martínez.”
    And she said:
    â€œCelia Obregón.”
    And then both said nothing.
    He heard the men moving up on the tenement roof. He moved to follow.
    She said quickly, “I saw you tonight!”
    He came back.
    â€œThe suit,” he said.
    â€œThe suit,” she said, and paused. “But not the suit.”
    â€œEh?” he said.
    She lifted the book to show the glasses lying in her lap. She touched the glasses.
    â€œI 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 the glasses, I see. A great whiteness passes below in the dark. So white! And I put on my glasses quickly!”
    â€œThe suit, as I said,” said Martínez.
    â€œThe suit for a little moment, yes, but there is another whiteness above the suit.”
    â€œAnother?”
    â€œYour teeth! Oh, such white teeth, and so many!” Martínez put his hand over his mouth.
    â€œSo happy, Mr. Martínez,” she said. “I have not often seen such a happy face and such a smile.”
    â€œAh,” he said, not able to look at her, his face flushing now.
    â€œSo, 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.”
    Martínez 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.
    â€œMay I—” he said, at last.
    â€œMay you—”
    â€œMay I call for you,” he asked, “when next the suit is mine to wear?”
    â€œWhy must you wait for the suit?” she said.
    â€œI thought—”
    â€œYou do not need the suit,” she said.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œIf it were just the suit,” she said, “anyone would be fine init. 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.”
    â€œ 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.”
    â€œThat is as it should be,” she said.
    â€œGood night, Miss—”
    â€œCelia Obregón.”
    â€œCelia Obregón,” he said, and was gone from the door.
    The others were waiting on the roof of the tenement. Coming up through the trapdoor, Martínez saw they had placed the dummy and the suit in the center of the roof and put their blankets and pillows in a circle around it. Now they were lying down. Now a cooler night wind was blowing here, up in the sky.
    Martínez stood alone by the white suit, smoothing the lapels, talking half to himself.
    â€œAy, 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 Obregón, Celia Obregón. “… 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 Gómez. A woman will look at me like Domínguez. 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 Martínez. I am Gómez, Manulo, Domínguez, Villanazul, Vamenos. I am