the playground, carrying a crumpled paper shopping bag under one arm. He stopped beside the snackbar to examine the contents of the waste-barrel, hoping for a returnable or two. As he bent over, Ralph saw the dark green envelope which surrounded him and the lighter green balloon-string which rose, wavering, from the crown of his head. And suddenly he was too tired to close his eyes, too tired to wish it away.
He turned to McGovern and said, "Ever since last month I've been seeing stuff that-"
"I ness I'm in mourning," McGovern said, giving his eyes another theatrical wipe, "although I don't know if it's for Bob or for me. Isn't that a hoot? But if you could have seen how bright he was in those days... how goddam scary-bright..."
"Bill? You see that guy over there by the snackbar? The one rooting through the trash barrel? I see-"
"Yeah, those guys are all over the place now," McGovern said, giving the wino (who had found two empty Budweiser cans and tucked them into his bag) a cursory glance before turning to Ralph again. "I hate being old-I guess maybe that's all it really comes down to. I mean big-time."
The wino approached their bench in a bent-kneed shuffle, the breeze heralding his arrival with a smell which was not English Leather. His aura-a sprightly and energetic green that made Ralph think of Saint Patrick's Day decorations-went oddly with his subservient posture and sickly grin.
"Say, you guys! How you doon?"
"We've been better," McGovern said, hoisting the satiric eyebrow, "and I expect we'll be better again once you shove off."
The wino looked at McGovern uncertainly, seemed to decide he was a lost cause, and shifted his gaze to Ralph. "You got a bittl spare change, mister? I gotta get to Dexter. My uncle call me out dere at the Shelter on Neibolt Street, say I can have my old job back at the mill, but only if I-"
"Get lost, chum," McGovern said.
The wino gave him a brief, anxious glance, and then his bloodshot brown eyes rolled back to Ralph again. "Dass a good job, you know?
I could have it back, but only if I get dere today. Dere's a bus-" Ralph reached into his pocket, found a quarter and a dime, and dropped them into the outstretched hand. The wino grinned. The aura surrounding him brightened, then suddenly disappeared. Ralph found that a great relief.
"Hey, great! Thank you, mister!"
"Don't mention it," Ralph said.
The wino lurched off in the direction of the Shop in Save, where such brands as Night Train, Old Duke, and Silver Satin were always on sale.
Oh shit, Ralph, would it hurt you to be a little charitable in your head, as well? he asked himself. Go another half a mile in that directt'on, you come to the bus station.
True, but Ralph had lived long enough to know there was a world of difference between charitable thinking and illusions. If the wino with the dark-green aura was going to the bus station, then Ralph was going to Washington to be Secretary of State.
"You shouldn't do that, Ralph," McGovern said reprovingly. "It just encourages them."
"I suppose," Ralph said wearily.
"What were you saying when we were so rudely interrupted?"
The idea of telling McGovern about the auras now seemed an incredibly bad one, and he could not for the life of him imagine how he had gotten so close to doing it. The insomnia, of course-that was the only answer. It had done a number on his judgement as well as on his short-term memory and sense of perception.
"That I got something in the mail this morning," Ralph said. "I thought it might cheer you up." He passed Helen's postcard over to McGovern, who read it and then reread it. The second time through, his long, horsey face broke into a broad grin. The combination of relief and honest pleasure in that expression made Ralph forgive McGovern his self-indulgent bathos at once. It was easy to forget that Bill could be generous as well as pompous.
"Say, this is great, isn't it? A job!"
"It sure is. Want to celebrate with some lunch? There's a nice little diner two doors down from the Rite Aid-Day Break, Sun Down, it's called. Maybe a little ferny, but-"
"Thanks, but I promised Bob's niece I'd go over and sit with him awhile. Of course he doesn't have the slightest idea of who I am, but that doesn't matter, because I know who he is. You can see?"