“Not the way it works,” she said. “I wouldn’t wait too long to do it, if I were you. They say it can take up to six weeks for them to send it to you after you apply, unless of course you want to pay a bunch extra to get it done quicker.”

“Six weeks,” muttered Carter, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. It was nearly the end of June. Six weeks would mean the middle of August, dangerously close to the time he was planning to leave. He let out a sigh. “I guess I’d better get moving on that,” he said.

Sheila gazed at him for a time, no doubt noting the look of concern on his face.

“Do you know how to go about applying for it?” she asked.

“No clue,” Carter confessed.

Sheila smiled and held up a finger.

“Wait here a minute,” she told him. “I’ll be right back.”

With that she left him there and walked off into her house. A few minutes later she reemerged with some sheets of paper in hand. By this time Carter had drifted across the Mahoneys’ front lawn and was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps to the front porch. Sheila walked out, sat on the top step, and gestured for him to come up and take a seat next to her. Acutely aware of his sweaty, disheveled state, Carter obeyed but sat down at a discreet distance so as not to totally offend her with his odor. Nonetheless, Sheila leaned closer to show him the paper she had just printed out for him.

“Here, look, it’s easy,” she said, her shoulder touching his as she pointed to the paper. “I printed this off the State Department Web site. It tells you everything.You see, you have to do it in person.”

“Don’t tell me I have go to all the way to D.C. to get this,” said an alarmed Carter.

“No,” Sheila laughed. “You can do it right at the post office, where I applied. But the first thing you need to do is have someone take a passport photograph of you.”

Sheila went on to explain the entire procedure, which was not at all complicated but had to be done completely and correctly, she warned him, else the application would be denied. Carter did his best to pay attention, but as she went down the list of items, her head leaning close to his, he found himself increasingly distracted by the smell of her perfume and the scent of her hair. Instead of looking at the paper, his eyes were inevitably drawn to her.

It was a discomfiting situation.