EXCERPT

           CHRISTMAS DAY! I woke early, from prison habit. I had a suitcase of new clothes: two St Laurent suits, cotton shirts, Bally shoes, silk ties, underwear. I had blown my savings. Once I'd dressed well and expensively and I could not forgo the pleasure. I shaved, showered and changed, and then realized there was nowhere I wished to go; no one I wished to call -yet I felt an unbearable loneliness.
           I ordered breakfast and pulled a chair to the window. Central Park was white, the trees starkly black, the street below slushy and gray. It had snowed all night. The wreckage of the night before remained. Two empty glasses, half the quart, an overflowing ashtray, the stale pall of cigarettes. An unsmoked cigar lay crushed and broken on a table. It was all so little: a sad farewell. I had imagined my first night of release to be an extravaganza. Money no object: music, laughter, drinking, dinner and a good friend. We'd planned it together over the years. I had kept my part of the bargain: a wake for Harry .
          In the distance I saw the kids on their toboggans: small, silent figures, sliding down, trudging up. I could only imagine their pleasure. Closer, the city appeared deserted. Traffic was sparse and only a few people moved along the slushy sidewalks.                     

          The man who had staked me out could not be seen. Maybe he had been a cop. Cops deceive from practise- it's like a religion. I ate breakfast by the window. It had snowed the day Harry had arrested me. The weatherman had predicted snow and heavy flakes had begun to drift down. Across the street a couple of cars were having trouble starting, and kids bundled in down jackets were drifting towards school. It was a shabby street. Most of the cars were old, beaten up. The buildings needed a coat of paint and major repairs.

          The room I'd rented had been small and sparsely furnished -a cot, a chair, a stained wash- basin. I'd used it as an ashtray and it had filled with butts. I'd rung Harry and told him where I was. I'd seen the car turn on to the street, drive slowly, and stop at the entrance. Harry stepped out. He'd worn a white raincoat, a felt hat. He'd glanced up -a cop reflex -to scan the roof then bent to speak to someone in the car. I didn't know Harry's partner and was grateful the man remained in the car. I'd picked up my jacket and slipped it on. Sat and waited for the knock. I couldn't deny I'd been afraid. I was terrified. I'd perspired and trembled. It was the awful nightmare of every cop -to be arrested. To bring upon himself what he brought to others.