‘Me!’ said Manulo.
‘Me!’ said Dominguez.
‘Me!’ said Villanazul.
‘Me!’ cried Gomez. ‘And you, Martinez. Men, let’s show him. Line up!’
Villanazul, Manulo, Dominguez, and Gomez rushed to plant their backs against the pool-room wall.
‘Martinez, you too, the other end, line up! Now, Vamenos, lay that billiard cue across our heads!’
‘Sure, Gomez, sure!’
Martinez, in line, felt the cue tap his head and leaned out to see what was happening. ‘Ah!’ he gasped.
The cue lay flat on all their heads, with no rise or fall, as Vamenos slid it, grinning, along.
‘We’re all the same height!’ said Martinez.
‘The same!’ Everyone laughed.
Gomez ran down the line rustling the yellow tape-measure here and there on the men so they laughed even more wildly.
‘Sure!’ he said. ‘It took a month, four weeks, mind you, to find four guys the same size and shape as me, a month of running around measuring. Sometimes I found guys with five-foot-five skeletons, sure, but all the meat on their bones was too much or not enough. Sometimes their bones were too long in the legs or too short in the arms. Boy, all the bones! I tell you! But now, five of us, same shoulders, chests, waists, arms, and as for weight? Men!’
Manulo, Dominguez, Villanazul, Gomez, and at last, Martinez stepped on to the scales which flipped ink-stamped cards at them as Vamenos, still smiling, wildly fed pennies. Heart pounding, Martinez read the cards.
‘One hundred thirty-five pounds … one thirty-six … one thirty-three … one thirty-four … one thirty-seven … a miracle!’
‘No,’ said Villanazul, simply, ‘Gomez.’
They all smiled upon that genius who now circled them with his arms.
‘Are we not fine?’ he wondered. ‘All the same size, all the same dream – the suit. So each of us will look beautiful at least one night each week, eh?’
‘I haven’t looked beautiful in years,’ said Martinez. ‘The girls run away.’
‘They will run no more, they will freeze,’ said Gomez, ‘when they see you in the cool white summer ice-cream suit.’
‘Gomez,’ said Villanazul, ‘just let me ask one thing.’
‘Of course, compadre.’
‘When we get this nice new white ice-cream summer suit, some night you’re not going to put it on and walk down to the Greyhound bus in it and go live in El Paso for a year in it, are you?’
‘Villanazul, Villanazul, how can you say that?’
‘My eye sees and my tongue moves,’ said Villanazul. ‘How about the Everybody Wins! Punchboard Lotteries you ran and you kept running when nobody won? How about the United Chili Con Carne and Frijole Company you were going to organize and all that ever happened was the rent ran out on a two-by-four office?’
‘The errors of a child now grown,’ said Gomez. ‘Enough! In this hot weather, someone may buy the special suit that is made just for us that stands waiting in the window of SHUMWAY’S SUNSHINE SUITS! We have fifty dollars. Now we need just one more skeleton!’
Martinez saw the men peer around the pool-hall. He looked where they looked. He felt his eyes hurry past Vamenos, then come reluctantly back to examine his dirty shirt, his huge nicotined fingers.
‘Me!’ Vamenos burst out, at last. ‘My skeleton, measure it, it’s great! Sure, my hands are big, and my arms, from digging ditches! But –’
Just then Martinez heard passing on the sidewalk outside, that same terrible man with his two girls, all laughing and yelling together.
He saw anguish move like the shadow of a summer cloud on the faces of the other men in this pool-room.
Slowly Vamenos stepped on to the scales and dropped his penny. Eyes closed, he breathed a prayer.
‘Madre mía, please …’
The machinery whirred, the card fell out. Vamenos opened his eyes.
‘Look! One thirty-five pounds! Another miracle!’
The men stared at his right hand and the card, at his left hand and a soiled ten-dollar bill.
Gomez swayed. Sweating, he licked his lips. Then, his hand shot out, seized the money.
‘The clothing store! The suit! Andale!’
Yelling, everyone ran from the pool-room.
The woman’s voice was still squeaking on the abandoned telephone. Martinez, left behind, reached out and hung the voice up. In the silence, he shook his head. ‘Santos, what a dream! Six men,’ he said, ‘one suit. What will come of this? Madness? Debauchery? Murder? But I go with God. Gomez, wait for me!’
Martinez was young. He ran fast.
Mr Shumway, of SHUMWAY’S SUNSHINE SUITS, paused while adjusting a tie-rack, aware of some subtle atmospheric change outside his establishment.
‘Leo,’ he whispered to his assistant. ‘Look …’
Outside, one man, Gomez, strolled by, looking in. Two men. Manulo and Dominguez, hurried by, staring in. Three men, Villanazul, Martinez, and Vamenos, jostling shoulders, did the same.
‘Leo,’ Mr Shumway swallowed. ‘Call the police!’
Suddenly, six men filled the doorway.
Martinez, crushed among them, his stomach slightly upset, his face feeling feverish, smiled so wildly at Leo that Leo let go the telephone.
‘Hey,’ breathed Martinez, eyes wide. ‘There’s a great suit, over there!’
‘No.’ Manulo touched a lapel. ‘This one!’
‘There is only one suit in all the world!’ said Gomez, coldly. ‘Mr Shumway, the ice-cream white, size thirty-four, was in your window just an hour ago! It’s gone! You didn’t –’
‘Sell it?’ Mr Shumway exhaled. ‘No, no. In the dressing-room. It’s still on the dummy.’
Martinez did not know if he moved and moved the crowd or if the crowd moved and moved him. Suddenly they were all in motion. Mr Shumway, running, tried to keep ahead of them.
‘This way, gents. Now which of you …?’
‘All for one, one for all!’ Martinez heard himself say, and laughed wildly. ‘We’ll all try it on!’
‘All?’ Mr Shumway clutched at the booth curtain as if his shop were a steamship that had suddenly tilted in a great swell. He stared.
That’s it, thought Martinez, look at our smiles. Now, look at the skeletons behind our smiles! Measure here, there, up, down, yes, do you see?
Mr Shumway saw. He nodded. He shrugged.
‘All!’ He jerked the curtain. ‘There! Buy it, and I’ll throw in the dummy, free!’
Martinez peered quietly into the booth, his motion drawing the others to peer, too.
The suit was there.
And it was white.
Martinez could not breathe. He did not want to. He did not need to. He was afraid his breath would melt the suit. It was enough, just looking.
But at last he took a great trembling breath and exhaled, whispering, ‘Ay. Ay, caramba!’
‘It puts