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.”

He felt a little rush go to his head, then spread downward to his heels. Her touch was what he imagined dope to be like. “What?”

“I don’t mean right now.” She began talking with her hands. “I mean if you can figure something out where we can put our money together, maybe a business or a service, something that could grow, something that would support us so we could buy decent clothes, a car that runs, a meal out once a week.” She moved close and looked at his eyes. “We could try it again.”

He had questions, but none of them seemed to matter in the damp cloud of perfume that captured him. “You telling me if I can start a business, get some money coming in, you’ll marry me again?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot the past few days. You’re different.”

He shook his head. “You said it. I’m not a hundred percent. Sometimes I don’t feel like a man, you know? I’m not making a joke when I say I might not be man enough for you anymore.”

She tilted her head back, parted her lips. “You still don’t get it up?”

He shook his head sadly.

“Not when you think of me?” She touched his ear and he made a face, pulling away slightly.