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Show •317 "What are you thinking about?" Morgan said. "Angels." She gave me an odd look. "It's a sad world when nobody believes in angels any more." "Some people still do." "Old women and fools," I said, "I wish I lived in a time when serious intelligent people could belive in angels." "Einstein believed in God," Morgan said. "Isaac Newton died convinced that he was being watched by little men through the walls of his house," I said. "Greatness of mind in one direction is no guarantee you're not going to be a crackpot in another." "You're still very sad about Carlo, aren't you? That's why you're angry." "Why should Einstein be more right about the existence of God than I am?" I said. I turned my head away and stared out the window. Still no angels-only the cottonwood clouds, the Windex-colored sky, the sun like a hot bright penny. "I fucked it up properly, didn't I? He was so goddamned intelligent-he could have been anything he wanted to be. If I'd been one step closer I could have caught him when he fell." My head felt like a piece of iron, starting just above the eyes; I wanted to press it harder against the cold window and |
