Some gangly guy, Wes, who owned a trio of boats, took up her offer. He had childish teeth the color of stones and a wallet swollen with cash. Julie handed him an index card:

$100 hand job

$200 blowjob

$500 all the way

They went inside the shed. She leaned against the stove and hooked her fingers in a frayed net nailed to the wall. Wes licked circles on her neck. He nuzzled her shoulder, face prickling skin She was trembling. His calloused hands rolled up her shirt. The tremble gave way to shaking and shortness of breath.

  “I can’t,” she muttered.

“I didn’t think so.” He picked up her shirt and turned away, handing it over blindly. The courtesy struck her, and she flinched, nearly dropping the shirt.

“Here.” He handed over a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Come visit sometime.”

She spent a week in the shower. Afterward, she called Kelly. Kelly hung up and screamed,

“You will not believe what my sister’s been doing!”

But I did believe. I understood. Julie was doing whatever she could to regain what was lost.

“What the hell does that mean?” Kelly asked.

“She loves her son and she misses him. If she has to — ” “Whore. If she has to whore herself out, that’s okay?” “She never intended to do anything.”

“She’s bi-polar, you know. I’ve been learning about it, in Professor — ”

“You’d know if she were schizophrenic.”

“Bi-polar, Wil. I said bi-polar.”

I reached for her hand but she yanked it away.

“It amazes, me, Wil, the things you don’t know. You’d be perfect for Julie. With your stories, rationalizations, trying to make the world what you want it to be.”

“Are you setting me up?”

“Why are you here, Wil? Why did we do this?”