He blinked again. Then he started to turn away but for some reason his legs wouldn’t move.

“You don’t have to stand there,” she said. “You said hello and that’s it. That’s all it calls for, just a hello.”

He stood and gazed at her. This ain’t easy, he thought. It’s like playing checkers with someone who knows all your moves before you make them. She won’t give you no openings at all.

And what makes it tougher, he told himself, she’s still got it, all of it. That face. That body. She’s something, all right. But there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is stand here like a goddam idiot and give yourself a bad time.

Lillian had dark brown hair, medium brown eyes. Somewhat heavy in the breasts and hips, her body was nonetheless enticing, wasp-waisted and solidly put together. She was an exceptionally good-looking woman.

Lil was twenty-six. Some five years ago she was married to Corey Bradford. They hadn’t stayed married long. It lasted a little over a year. The split-up was caused by his drinking. At that time he’d been wearing the blue of a beat-walking policeman, and for some reason that he couldn’t understand he was drinking very heavily. She begged him to stop, then she warned him to stop. And finally one night when he went over the edge with the rams, she chased him down Addison as he dashed toward the river, intending to jump in. He didn’t jump in. What stopped him was the sound behind him, the thud as she hit the ground. She suffered a bruised knee, a severely twisted ankle, and a miscarriage. It was a serious miscarriage. There was considerable pain and some complications and it almost did her in. On his knees beside the bed he held her hand and made a sacred vow that he’d stop the drinking. A month later he was crazy drunk again. That ended it.

He watched her now as she poured more beer into the glass. He frowned slightly, at first not knowing why. Then gradually it came to him. There was something out of kilter in this picture.

He said to her, “What’s this with beer?”

She didn’t reply. She sipped at the foam, then took a long drink.

“I never saw you drinkin’ beer before,” he said.

Lillian put the glass down. She gave him a look that said, So what?

“All I ever seen you drink was a lemon pop or a milk shake or just plain water,” he said. “How come you’ve switched to alcohol?”

She shrugged, looking away from him. As if he wasn’t there, and as though she was talking aloud to herself, she said, “It gets to a point where it just don’t matter.”

His frown deepened. “What kind of an answer is that?”