"Jamaica?"

"Yes, I'm working on an account for a resort there and they've invited me, and I can bring guests."

"Guests plural?"

"Yes, and, uh, Mother sort of invited herself."
"Oh."

"So I was thinking that maybe we should make it a family vacation."

"Family? As in the five of us?"

"Well, yes."

"I love it! When are we going?"

"Well, um, that's why I wanted to talk to you about it alone. It's the same time as Ingrid and Anthony's anniversary."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting that. And I wondered if she had originally thought of inviting Ingrid and Anthony, although there's no way I could've gone to Jamaica with her alone without everyone getting suspicious. I mean, it wasn't like when we went to my baseball reunion.

"I know we talked about staying in a nice hotel that weekend."

Yeah, we had. We were going to do all the things we didn't do in St. Louis: watch The Way We Were, order room service, and, well, get a little matrimonial. We hadn't planned to share a room when we left for my team's reunion, but Betty started coming on to me, and I said Angela was my wife to discourage Betty. It didn't work, but I resisted. Both of them, all three of them: Betty, Angela, and Ingrid.

But the lines have been blurring more than ever. It started when we went to a frat party and Angela drank too much of the spiked punch. I left the room for a little while and while I was gone, Angela went Ingrid, dancing on tables and being mistaken for an exotic dancer! No, she didn't take her clothes off, but she started undressing the dean! Campus security hauled her in, and then when I went to get her, I got thrown in the cell with her for assisting her escape, when I was actually trying to stop her.

And then when I thought her assistant Jack was after her, I went crazy. I even followed them to their hotel. And he was there with his girlfriend, while Angela was in another room by herself. Luckily, Angela never found out how jealous I got.

Part of it was the guy gave really good foot massages, and I know how Angela likes her feet rubbed. And then she gave me a foot massage, applying what Jack had taught her, where every part corresponds to a different organ. And she, accidentally judging from her reaction, wandered onto a very sensitive part of my foot. And oh, that woke up Anthony!

When I rejected Betty, Angela was so happy that she gave me a big kiss. Well, she was my "wife" and we were making up, and Mona and the kids weren't around, so why not? But then when we were back home, I wanted to dance with her in our living room, teach her some new moves. The kids walked in when I dipped her, so we pretended we were looking at the plaster.

By this point, I was thinking OK, maybe we can't let Anthony and Ingrid loose entirely, but couldn't we move a little closer to including them in our everyday lives? So when Mona suggested I ask Angela on a date, a real date, I decided to give it a try. And Angela said yes, once she got used to the idea.

The problem is we went to a comedy club where the comic made fun of our "weird relationship." So she punched him!

It's still hard to get past the fact that she's my boss and people aren't comfortable with the idea of us as a couple. I'm not that comfortable with it myself sometimes. And it was very hard for me to let her pay for half of my new Jeep. I sold the van. Yeah, a lot of memories, including of Ingrid.

But the big turning point in the past year was the return of her ex-husband. No, not Michael. Her other ex-husband. Only he wasn't her ex yet, which is why he had returned.

See, they met about 20 years ago, when she was 18. He was a romantic poet and he swept her off her feet. They ran off and had a Vegas wedding, which didn't get properly annulled.

Now, here's a guy who knew Angela almost as long as I had. He met her about five and a half years after her first kiss. And she hadn't done much kissing since Anthony. But he released the Ingrid in her. Maybe not as much as grown-up Anthony had, but enough.

He stayed over, so I had a little talk with him late at night in the living room.

"Hey, Brian, let me ask you a question, huh?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, what was Angela like twenty years ago? I mean, you know, it's not like her to run off like that. You know, she's so conservative."

"On the surface. But you know what happens to women like her when they shed their inhibitions."

I grinned. "Oh, yeah, yeah! You're darn tootin' I do! Tell me anyway."

"They become volcanos of passion." And he told me she really loved his poetry.

So I started wondering if maybe if it was time to volcano-ize her at home. Not to the level of our anniversaries, but more than I had been. So I wrote her a poem, and it was pretty good. She told me, sincerely, not like she was just being nice, that she loved it. And she tenderly kissed my cheek.

And it got to me. Not in a volcano way, but something else, I can't explain it. I guess I was touched that she was touched.

But then later, we were talking in the kitchen about how she fell for Brian, and she said part of it was footsies. I'd always thought footsies were silly. Then she slipped off one of her shoes and ran her foot along my leg. In our kitchen! I told her it did nothing for me, but the minute she left the room, I had to throw cold water in my face.

Damn, that woman gets to me! And all these little moments, well, it wasn't like she was coming on strong to me. If she'd been more obvious, more Ingridy, I could've defended myself, defended our home. But yeah, I guess it was partly my fault, for trying to move closer to her, but not in an obviously seductive Anthony kind of way.

So we're off to Jamaica next week, with the kids and Mona. Maybe we can flirt a bit, like we did in Mexico three years ago. And have a belated Anthony & Ingrid anniversary when we get back.

But I know, I'm walkin' a tightrope here. What do I want from Angela anyway?

OK, you know what, I've thought about marrying her. And not just in the sense that I think she'd make a beautiful bride. I mean, we've been together for years now, and we've got all that we've got together.

But, as Fred and Ginger told us three years ago, it would be funny for her to date, let alone marry, her housekeeper. And even though I'm in college now, the gap between us hasn't shrunk enough.

OK, forget marriage. I don't know that I love her enough for that, although I think I could someday, unlike with Gina and Frankie, where there were limits. What about dating? Is there a way to date while living in the same house? Or would that be too weird?

Flirting is OK I've decided. There was a time when I was cautious about it. I couldn't even compliment her! That seems kind of silly after all our alter-ego trysts. Yes, we keep things separate, but you can't entirely separate something like that.

Anyway, I'm a flirtatious guy. I can't help it. I'm that way with most pretty women. It's different when I flirt with Angela, but I can get away with it because it's not different enough to stand out.

For her though, well, she's not a flirty person, generally. I mean, don't forget, I met most of her dates over the past five years, saw her around them. And she's still shy, conservative Angela, inner volcano or not. If you think about it, it's a wonder that anyone discovered the Ingrid in her. I feel really lucky that I get two days of it a year, even if I can never make up my mind if I want it the rest of the year. Well, I want it, but there's that old conflict between passion and a nice, safe family life.

This is going to be a family vacation. I'll try to concentrate on that aspect, make sure everyone has fun. Well, Mona finds her own fun wherever she goes, but we can hang out some. And the kids and I can go swimming, wind-surfing, the works. (As long as I don't put my head underwater, I'll be fine.) And Angela and I, well, we'll flirt, but we'll mostly just be two friends having fun together. She's not the same Angela who wore a business suit instead of a swimsuit to a California beach four years ago. Now she knows how to loosen up a little.

Hm, I wonder if all the Ingriding has helped. I mean, she'll never be that wild in everyday life. (Good thing, too!) But a little Ingrid doesn't hurt.

Anthony isn't that different than me, but I think he worries less about what the right thing to do or say is. He loves the Ingrid of her. I mean, not capital-L Love, but he enjoys her thoroughly, and not just the sex. I always seem to be either protecting Angela from herself and/or the world, or trying to get her to relax.

I think one thing is, Angela is like a car that only goes into first or fifth gear. One reason why Ingrid scares me (and she does sometimes, in a different way than Cassandra and Betty scared me) is because I worry that if Angela lets herself go, she'll go full-out, and that's not good on all those days when it's not an anniversary weekend. I'd like to see a second- or third-gear Angela, just partway to Ingrid. But I don't know if that's possible.

Another thing that happened this past year is Jonathan got his first kiss. I know because Angela and I witnessed it. Angela did not say it was a sweet moment between two lovely children. She hyperventilated.

I was proud of Jonathan myself, even though I don't like the girl's parents. But when I talked to Angela about it later, I could tell that part of why it bothered her, besides the fact that it meant her little boy was growing up, was that she was afraid it might lead to something.

"What? Like secret trysts twenty years later?"

She blushed and I have to admit I'd crossed a line, talking about how we crossed a line, because part of our agreement is that we try not to mention Ingrid and Anthony when we're home.

"No, of course not. But twelve is a very vulnerable, emotional age. Puberty plays havoc with your thoughts and your emotions. This is all very new to Jonathan, and he's more innocent than some boys are at his age."

"You want me to talk to him?"

She hesitated. "Yes and no."

"Uh, can you elaborate?"

Still blushing, she said, "Yes, as his father figure. Michael's hardly an expert on relationships or sensitivity, so even if he were around, I shudder to think what advice he'd give. You understand women, you like women, and you consider their feelings."

"Well, I try."

"You also have a very strong relationship with Jonathan. He looks up to you and he listens to you. That's why I think maybe you shouldn't talk to him."

"Uh, run that by me one more time?"

"Tony, what do you do when you give advice?"

"Share from my fount of wisdom?"

"More specifically."

I just stared at her, not getting it.

"You usually tell a story from your wild youth. You cannot tell Jonathan the story of your first kiss."

"Oh, right. What if I change the names?"

"Tony!"

I was teasing her, but she was right. One, I couldn't tell Jonathan about the girl who kissed me like she had an extra set of lips, even if I didn't say that that girl grew up to be Jonathan's mother. And two, how could I give a lecture about not building too much out of a kiss when Angela and I have built a whole secret role-playing affair out of it?

So instead I ended up telling Jonathan it's unsanitary to share gum and left it at that.

Watch, we'll go to Jamaica, and I'll spend the whole time telling Angela to relax when Jonathan chases girls on the beach.