“You say ‘I mean that,’ or ‘I mean it,’ a lot. Do you know you do that?”

“Under certain conditions,” she said. “It goes back to when Murray and I were first married.” The traffic moved forward and she was able to make the turn. “There were many things that we discussed today that I had to retell to Murray after we were married because I had lied the first time around. I did have more violent arguments with him than with Colin. I wasn’t honest and I was sick and confused. It was like being locked in a closet and trying to scratch a way out. I had changed husbands like a movie star and I didn’t like myself for that. I wanted to make our marriage work, as the movie stars say. Mostly—I suppose; I don’t really know—I was confused about sex. Colin and I did things that Murray didn’t understand. This is his first marriage. He went around with a lot of women—he slept with more women than he can remember. He had to learn about marriage and I did—and didn’t—want to teach him. There was something the matter with me. I ran hot and cold—that’s almost a pun. I was cruel and selfish and hurt him badly.” This street was narrow, too, almost an alley. A truck backed up to an unloading ramp effectively blocked the way. Without pausing, at slow speed, Betty Kaminsky drove up onto the clear sidewalk until she was past the truck. It was a standard if illegal maneuver in Manitou’s back alleys, but women usually approached it very cautiously. As she wheeled the car onto the street again, she said, “You seem surprised.”

“I am, but by more than your driving. We should have had lunch at a drive-in. Since we’ve been in the car, you’ve been as free as you’ve been all day.”

“The driving helps, but I reached a peak a while ago. Now I’m tired and I don’t care much. Listen, I owe you thanks. I must have been crazy this morning. Maybe I wouldn’t have been as hurt and disappointed as I said if you had worked it right—and I’m sure you could have, too. I was begging for trouble.”

“I thought we were going to forget it,” he said.

“I’m still wondering about myself. I don’t know what would have happened if you had acted another way.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“Why?” She really didn’t understand. He opened the window a little.

“I’ll start thinking about undoing your underwear. I’m good at it and I enjoy it.”

“All right. I see.” She was flustered. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

He smiled. “Women have no corner on being difficult.”

“I don’t follow you,” she said.