Not long after that, on a hot Wednesday afternoon, Paul had come in after working as a flagman on a resurfacing job at the edge of town, and he was treating himself to an icy Schlitz on the porch swing. He looked down River Street, down the sidewalk that humped over the roots of China ball trees and sycamores, down to the first crumbly brick buildings of the town. Colette was walking up, on the other side of the street, and he guessed she had come to talk about the boat she’d lost or some other money matter. Maybe she needed him to watch Matthew. She was wearing a faded pair of blue dress pants and a white cotton blouse. He squinted. A thin gold necklace spangled her bodice, and he sat upright. Directly across the street she stopped and looked at him a long time, as if she were a salesman rehearsing a spiel. A dump truck loaded with clam shells passed, then an empty pipe truck, and she stepped into the street, her eyes on him. He wondered what he had done wrong as he watched his ex-wife come on, giving off vibrations like a friendly Judgment Day.

“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.”