With all the effort he had, he gained control over his right arm. He gripped her wrist. He brought his gaze to her violet eyes. He labored beneath a broken jaw. He felt a longing inside himself that could not be satisfied. Not this time. A longing to live. Not for himself, but for the young man beside him, for the girl who kissed his forehead, for the young married woman a whole state away, and for the black man who held his hand. And he felt like he’d failed them all, somehow.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Ruth,” he said.

She smiled and wiped her tears away. “You can go, Paul. You can go if you have to. You can go.”

No sooner had she said it than he felt warmth surrounding him. The heavenly forces holding the landslide released their barricades and allowed the inner dome of the world to fall upon him. A light filled the room momentarily, and he began to let out a short chuckle. It was beautiful. It was all so beautiful. He’d never known it to be this beautiful, even though it was around him all the time.

He could feel a laugh start inside him. It was only inside him. And it felt so good. It felt better than anything he’d ever felt.

“Oh, Delpha,” he said.

And Paul Foldger died.

Sixty-Eight
Going to Meeting

“I ain’t going to no stupid revival,” said Rachel, plopping herself in the chair beside the fan. “I’d break out in a nervous sweat if a preacher so much as looked at me.” The fan blew Rachel’s blonde hair backward. She held her arms up to catch the breeze beneath them.

“I don’t think it’s like that,” said Marigold. “They say there’s healings there, and miracles.”

“We got enough healings going on right here,” said Laughing Girl. “People come from all over just to see you, Marigold, not some holy roller.”

“I don’t trust church people,” said Helen, who was making the bed on the other side of the room. “Those people are liars.”

“So what if they are?” said Marigold. “It doesn’t mean I have to tattoo their name on my forehead or anything. They say they have healings and miracles.”

“They’re full of it,” said Helen. “You already know what you’re doing. Who needs them?”

Marigold sighed. “There must be somebody out there like me. Somebody who feels like I do.”

“Those people would humiliate us,” said Helen. “They know who we are, and they know what we do. They probably have posters with our mug shots in all their holy little church lobbies.”

Rachel laughed at this.

“Helen’s right,” Rachel said. “I don’t think whores oughta be going to no revival. Ain’t good for business.”

“Well, I don’t wanna go by myself,” said Marigold.