Ralph's New Wife
By Dick Hannah
It’s hotter than usual in town today, and I’ve always found that people stray pretty far away from the ordinarily when it gets hot. Ordinarily I would not be sitting on a little park bench in Newton watching for a woman I don’t know. Ordinarily I would have told my ex-wife and her screwball cousin to go do their own damn spy work and leave me out of it. Ordinarily I would have worn my hat and white shirt, not my blue shirt with no hat at all, but it’s hot and things are out of the ordinary.
A small tow headed boy with shoes that look three sizes too big for him climbs up on the bench next to me. His actions are resolute and determined and once up on the bench he stares at me curiously. I try not to notice him but I can sense his stare and realize it is only a matter of time before he breaks the silence.
“Howdy mister.” Says the tinny voice belonging to the boy.
“Yep.” I say slowly not wanting to encourage him.
“Whatcha looking at?” He asks following my gaze across the street.
“That boutique.” I say nodding.
“What’s a boutique?”
“That’s a boutique.” I nod again.
“You mean the one with all the old women talking and laughing inside?”
“That’s the one.”
“My mom goes there sometimes, but she calls it a sl-on.”
