“Hey, babe,” he said.

She sat next to him on the swing, and he gave her room, putting a hand up on the chains on his side. She was wearing perfume, and at first the smell scared him to death. He counted up how much money he had in savings.

“How’ve you been feeling?” She actually looked at him.

“All right. I worked the road gang today. I feel all right.” He made a muscle and put his arm back down.

“That’s good.”

“How’s Matthew and your daddy?”

She nodded. “Matt’s fine. Dad’s the same, I guess.”

“You, uh, want me to watch one of them for you or something?”

“No. Aunt Flo is over there for a little bit. I just wanted to get out.”

He felt awkward, the way he’d felt when he was fifteen and out on a date, trying to figure what the girl was thinking. It had to come sooner or later, the sarcastic verbal slap, the complaint. He started to tell her she smelled good. He wondered if she was going on a date with someone. “You on your way somewhere?”

“No. Just out for a bit. I wanted to talk to you.” She leaned back and looked into the side yard. “You still haven’t fixed your car.”

“No.”

“Saving your money?”

“That’s a fact.”

She put an arm in back of him on the swing, not touching his shirt. “I came over to talk to you about something, and it’s hard to do.”

He emptied his beer and put the can on the porch rail. Mrs. Fontenot’s old yellow pot hound walked slowly across the lawn and disappeared around the corner of the house. “You need some money for a new skiff?” He looked at her in the eyes then.

“No, it’s like this.” She put her palms up on the backs of her knees and began to explain things—what she wanted in the next five years or so for herself and Matthew. She didn’t want to go out fishing again. She didn’t want to live like a pauper in her parents’ old house for the rest of her life. She explained things in an uncharacteristic calm, her voice thin but clear. “What do you think?” she asked when she had finished.

“That’s good,” he said quickly. “Who wouldn’t want that?”

“I haven’t thanked you for helping with Matthew and Dad.”

“Hell.”

“Thank you.”

“Colette, one of ’em’s my son and the other used to be my daddy-in-law.”

She thought about this and nodded. “Okay.”

“Why you telling me this?”

She frowned a little. “You’re suspicious of something?”

“You’re wearing that perfume I gave you three years ago.”

“You remembered?” Her red mouth fell open.

“Yas, your big dumb-ass machinist ex-husband who uses coal oil as aftershave can recognize Adolpho.” He moved his head toward the street.

She pulled on his arm, but he didn’t turn to her. “I’m thinking of taking you back.”