LEONARD MICHAELS
401
them. High expectations, not mathematical problems, led to mental impo–
tence. Frenchy was like them. He knew he was expected to win, so he
couldn't win. Frenchy was worse than a loser.
But maybe something had changed. Maybe it was the new jockey, a
Mexican named Carlos Arroyo whom the owners had brought up to the
States to ride Frenchy. Arroyo was reputed to understand problem horses.
Knows how to talk to them. Won a lot of races. A great jockey. You could
bet on him, if not the horse, but not at twenty to one. Nachman's system
couldn't handle psychological mysteries. Problems, yes. Mysteries, not
likely.
Nachman must have made a mistake in the calculations, or there were
subtle factors, implicit in his system, that he'd failed to notice. An honest
mistake. But maybe there was something else at work. Nachman wanted
Frenchy to win because the horse was beautiful. Frenchy's beauty and
Nachman's yearning had entered the calculations, and come up with a sen–
timental assertion. Dishonest but not deplorable. Merely human.
Some of the greatest mathematicians had thought because their proofs
were beautiful, they revealed the secrets of God. Nachman was moved by
their visionary enthusiasm, but he wasn't mystical. Frenchy's numbers were
simply wrong. His beauty was irrelevant. Nachman's yearning was irrele–
vant. His system had exceeded itself. He wanted to figure out why, but he
couldn't do it now. The race was minutes away.
Nachman joined the line to the betting window, a twenty-dollar bill
in his hand, prepared to bet on a horse named Night Flower, not Frenchy,
of course.
In
front of Nachman stood Horace and a little girl, about nine
years old. She had the same skin tone as Horace, the same eyes and mouth.
Obviously, Horace's daughter. She noticed Nachman smiling at her and
said, "My mom is in the hospital. That's why I'm not in school."
Horace turned and said, "How are you doing, Nachman?"
"All right. I'm sorry about your wife, Horace."
"Everything is fine. Don't listen to her."
The girl said, "He won't let me go to school because he's scared to be
alone."
Horace said, "Be quiet, Camille. And tie your shoelaces." Then he
looked Nachman in the eye and said, "If I stay home
I'll
go crazy."
"You don't have to explain. It's none of my business."
"We went to the hospital this morning."
The line moved. Horace turned away to the betting window and said,
"Fifty bucks on Ladies' Man to win."
Impulsively, Nachman said, "No. Fifty bucks on Frenchy."
Horace pulled his money back, as if he'd burned his hand.
The betting agent said, "Which is it?"
