“Good. You’re home. You need to say something to Alvin.”

“The mailman?”

“Yes, Alvin the mailman.”

“Why do I need to speak to him?”

“Because I caught him lurking out in front of the trailer.”

“Our mailbox is out in front of the trailer. It’s not lurking for him to be out there putting mail in our box.”

“So, tell him to put our mail in the box and be on his way. He’s not supposed to stand there gawping at me just because I happen to be naked.”

“Naked?”

“Yes. Just standing there, staring at me naked.”

“You’d have to be outside, all the way down the steps and out on the patio for him to see you from the mailbox.”

“I was.”

“What were you doing all the way outside naked?”

“Don’t get that look. It’s not what you’re thinking. See, I was coming home from grocery shopping—”

“Naked?”

“No! Would you let me tell my story before you start asking questions? Thank you. I was coming home from grocery shopping and I saw Zach out by the pool as I drove by.”

“Zach?”

“You remember Zach?”

“No.”

“Of course you do. Zach. Down the street. Early twenties, maybe. Between jobs, but thinking about being a chiropractor? He’s been working as Nora Hyde’s assistant. She’s the physical therapist? The ladies love him. He’s a lot nicer than Nora, I can tell you that. He’ll set up appointments for her, and he’ll take over for her when she’s not feeling like doing a session. Ladies love him.”

“You said that.”

“Anyway, I saw him hanging around the pool and thought I could help him out. Offered him twenty dollars to pack away my groceries.”

“Pack away groceries. Seems a come-down from being a therapist.”

“The guy needs an income. I’m betting Nora doesn’t pay anything, hard as she’s got him working.”

“So you paid him to put away your groceries.”

“And work on my spine.”

“What’s wrong with your spine?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t think anything, but I was bending over, putting lettuce in the crisper drawer and he’s watching. I’m thinking he’s checking me out, bent over like that. Because my ass is still something, right?”

“Was he checking out your ass?”

“No. He was checking out my spine, he said. He noticed there was something going on with my spine. A little irregularity he called it. Kind of going off to one side.”

“I never noticed that.”

“You’re not a chiropractor.”

“Neither is he.”

“But he’s studying to be one. Excuse me, did I miss when you showed an interest in medicine? Anyway, he comes up behind me and I start to straighten up, and he says, no, stay there, and he runs his hand along my spine and right between my shoulder blades he says, feel that? Feel that? I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary, but you live with something all your life, you wouldn’t, would you? He runs his hand along my spine again and hits a spot, saying, right there.”

“How’s he see something like that through your blouse?”

“He’s training his eye to catch that kind of thing. But—he still needed to take a closer look. That’s why he had to push up my shirt just to be sure, and saying may I? Very polite, very professional. He unsnaps my bra, since the hooks were right on the spot where he says the problem might be. I put my hand up to keep the cups in place. I don’t want to be spilling out accidentally, bent over like that.”

“Smart.”

“So, I’m holding the cups in place and he’s running his fingers along my spine, and I have to admit, I do feel something, so I ask what is it? I’m still bent over and I’m looking back at him, and he’s got his face set the way that doctors get when they know they’re right, but they don’t want to be. And won’t tell you until they run a hundred tests and max out your deductible. Like that kind of face.”

“I see.”

“He has me straighten up, and I’m still holding my bra in place, but I’m coming out the bottom of the cups. He’s behind me and he puts his arms under mine and puts me in the sort-of headlock and he weaves me back and forth, his hands locked behind my head, like he’s adjusting me already.”

“I don’t think you needed adjusting.”

“Not like he’s adjusting adjusting, but aligning me the way I should be. Don’t make more of this than it is. You starting to sound like Elinore.”

“From next door?”

“Yes, from next door. Do I have another best friend named Elinore? If she hadn’t barged in and given me one of those looks of hers, Alvin would’ve never got his chance to see me naked.”

“What’s Elinore got to do with the mailman seeing you naked.”

“She’s the whole reason I was outside naked.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’m getting there. You want to hear the story or not?”

“Not really.”

“But you asked, and I’m going to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you. Don’t sound so excited. Where was I? Oh—so he says, let’s try something. Not officially, since he doesn’t have a license to practice on anyone, but he says, this might make me feel better, so he leads me to the kitchen table and says, hop up and then get down on your knees and elbows. We need to flex your spine. I say, can we do it on the floor, but he says that he can’t get any leverage bent over to the floor. So I say there’s no way I’m going to be able to climb up on a table much less go down on all fours in the jeans I was wearing. Those black hip-huggers?”

“The black spangly ones? You wore those to go grocery shopping?”

“Everything else was in the laundry hamper. So, yes, I wore the black spangly ones. And there was no way I could raise my leg up high enough to get up on the table for him to work on me. That’s why I took them off. Which was kind of embarrassing because I was wearing a thong.”

“To go grocery shopping, because—”

“Everything else—”

“—was in the hamper. I get that.”

“Once I took all that off, I could climb up on the table and squat down like he’d suggested, on my knees and elbows. I was keeping my chest flat on the table because I didn’t want my bra to drop off accidentally. My head’s hanging off the table, so I grip the edge which lets me rest my chin on my knuckles.”

“Where’s Elinore in all this?”

“How should I know?”

“I thought she was the whole reason you were outside naked.”

“Outside. I’m not there yet. I’m getting to that part. Anyway. He starts to work, doing this long hard rub along my spine. But he keeps making this grunting noise. Like a snort. You know like you make when you’re irritated at something on the television? It was that same noise. I ask him what’s up and he says, very politely, would you mind taking off your shirt all the way? So I said, sure, and I let him pull it the rest of the way off over my head, and zooop, my bra goes with it.”

“I thought you were holding it so it didn’t come off accidentally.”

“He asked, and I’d said yes, so it wasn’t strictly an accident. It was for the therapy.”

“Therapy?”

“Not therapy therapy. But him showing me what might could be done if I wanted to go to a professional. Anyway, he’s doing this hard stroke with his thumbs along my spine and doing a little twitchy motion when he gets to that place. And I have to say, the fingers, running along my waist and up my ribs was tickling, but I was concentrating on what he was doing, because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t take this seriously.”