When I came up here many hours ago, I didn't realize that I would need a place to be by myself and think. But if I hadn't come up here, then I wouldn't need a place to be by myself and think.

I wasn't looking for publicity for myself. I was trying to promote literacy and the Fairfield Parents' Association. When I was elected a couple years ago, I promised them and myself that I would be an active, innovative president, not like Joanne Parker, who just used the presidency to push her husband's insurance company.

But my marathon session on the billboard has generated publicity, and not just locally. Now I've been offered the position of National Parents' Association Coordinator for Special Projects, in Washington, D.C.! And, yeah, it's flattering and tempting. But how could I leave my life here?

Frankie saw the job offer since it happened on television. She called me (I've got a portable phone, so I'm not too isolated) and said she thinks I should take it.

"But won't you miss me?" I was sort of teasing but also trying to gauge how she feels. Sometimes she acts like she wants to marry me or something, but then she'll say something about how she loves her independence. We've been going out only a couple months, so I don't know how I feel. I mean, this is the most serious thing I've had since Marie died, but mostly I'm just seeing where it goes, not having any expectations.

"Well, we don't live in the same state as it is. And D.C.'s just four hours from New York. Even shorter by plane."

"Yeah."

"We could visit back and forth."

"Yeah, sure. If I were going."

"I think you should consider it, Tony."
"I thought you were happy with me being just a housekeeper."

"I am. But you could do so much for this country's children if you took this offer."

She knows my weak spots. "Well, I'll think about it."

So now I'm thinking about it. I'm comfortable in my life in Connecticut, but maybe I've gotten too comfortable. Maybe it's time to take a chance again. But how could I uproot Sam? I moved her from Brooklyn three years ago and she's really settled in here. On the other hand, she could make new friends in Washington, maybe kids from all over the country, maybe all over the world.

But what about Jonathan? He's at a critical point now, almost a teenager. Yeah, he doesn't need to be babysat, but he's going to need advice about zits and girls soon. I can't just abandon him, right?

And what about Angela? Yeah, she could get another housekeeper but she needs me for so many things. And I'd miss hearing about the agency, watching it grow. And, OK, I'd miss all the day-to-day moments we share as friends. That'd be hard to give up.

But maybe I should. After all, I've got a girlfriend now. How much longer can Angela be my best friend? Frankie doesn't seem to be too jealous, but maybe it's not fair to her that I'm closer to another woman than I am to her. I can't help it. I share a life with Angela. But what if I didn't? What if I went to Washington?

I'm pondering this when Angela comes up, bearing consommé. It's not very good, but I appreciate the thought. We sit and talk for awhile and then she says she thinks I should take the job in Washington!

"Hey, Angela, you tryin' to get rid of me?"

"No, but I don't want you to regret missing out on a wonderful opportunity."

"Well, thank you." Now I'm really confused. Maybe she wouldn't miss me. Maybe she doesn't want me to stay. And I don't want to stay if she doesn't want me to. "But what about Jonathan?"

"He's in junior high. He's not a little boy anymore."

"Yeah, I guess. But what about you? How would you feel if I took the job?"

"I'd be proud."

I want her to be proud of me. It's just, I don't know. "Thank you."

"Well, anyway, I'll let you get back to your marathon and I'll—" She stands up and heads towards the ladder, but then she looks down. "Oh!"

"What?"

"It's just it didn't seem that high when I was coming up."

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Yes, a little."

Well, she may not think she needs me, but she does at the moment. I come over and put my arms around her.

"Thank you, Tony, that helps. Now if you can just help me down the ladder—"

"Angela, I can't do that! The minute I step off this platform, that's it, the marathon is over."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK. You can't help having a phobia." I'm not sure what to do now. I mean, there are no rules about me having other people up here. Otherwise I wouldn't have had the news crew and my other visitors. But I don't know how Frankie would feel about Angela being up here in my arms, even if I'm just trying to calm Angela down.

"Can you get me over to the tent? If I had walls around me, I'd feel safer."

"Yeah, sure." I've got a little pup tent up here. I slept in it last night. I ease her over to it, one step at a time. "There you go. Just sit inside until you feel calmer."

She nods. "Thank you, Tony." She crouches down and crawls in. She zips the door closed from the inside.

Hopefully, she'll be OK after awhile and she can climb down by herself. I've seen her get scared before but she always rallies with a little support, from me or Mona, or even the kids sometimes. She'll be fine. Even if I left Connecticut, she'd be fine.

It's too dark to read now, unless I get out the flashlight. The city lights are coming on. It's really beautiful up here. I wish I could ask Angela to come out and sit with me, enjoy the view, but I'll wait till she gets her "billboard legs." (Like sea legs, only higher up.)

Then to my huge surprise, I get another visitor: Frankie!

"Hi, Tony, I thought you could use some company."

Oh boy! Normally, this'd be great, but what's she going to say when she finds out that Angela is in my tent? "Well, not that it's not nice to see you of course, but I've been enjoying the solitude. You know, a chance to think things through."

"Have you been considering the Washington offer?"

"Yeah, I've been considering it, but I just don't know. I'm needed here. I mean, not on this billboard but in Fairfield."

"Angela can get another housekeeper."

"I know."

"Or are you more than just a housekeeper?"

"I told you. She's my best friend. That's all."

"That's all," she echoes, somehow mixing sadness and sarcasm.

"Come on, Frankie, Angela and I have been through a lot."

She nods. "You two can still be friends if you move away."

"Yeah, I know."

She shakes her head. "Well, anyway, let's not talk about Angela or Washington. What do you say we go inside your pup tent and get cozy?"

"Come on, Frankie, I can't fool around with you while I'm doing the marathon!"

"Why not? One marathon wouldn't cancel out another."
I'd be very tempted, but obviously my pup tent is occupied at the moment.

"OK, what do you say we just snuggle?"
"Uh, well."

"Come on, Tony, it'll pass the time and keep you warm." She goes over to the tent and, before I can stop her, unzips the door. She gasps at the sight of Angela lying on top of my sleeping bag. "Or maybe you're not having any trouble keeping warm."

"Frankie, this isn't what this looks like," I say.

"Really? Then what is it?"

Angela emerges from the tent and says, "I got a little dizzy when I tried to climb back down. After bringing Tony consommé."

"You don't cook."

"Oh, you just take the bouillon cubes for—Well, anyway, I just needed to lie down until the dizziness passed and I'm fine now, so I'll just be go—"

"Hold on. Why were you dizzy?'
"Well, I'm afraid of heights."
"Afraid of heights?" Frankie crosses her arms. "Don't you fly all the time for work?"

"Well, yes, but I do have a phobia about it."

"Yeah, you should've seen her when the family went to Mexico. She went through three barf bags on the round trip."

Both women look at me and I realize I'm not helping.

Then Frankie looks down at Angela again and says, "That seems like a very convenient phobia."

"Ay-oh, oh-ay! Why would Angela lie about being scared?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to lose you. Maybe she thinks if she seems weak and vulnerable, you won't leave her."

"You're wrong. I don't want Angela to be weak and vulnerable, or scared. I just try to help her feel strong and brave."

"You do, Tony. You always have." She gets to her feet.

"Then I guess you won't be able to manage without him if goes to Washington, will you?"

"I would miss him terribly," Angela says, sounding like she's going to cry. "But I want him to pursue his dreams, find happiness wherever he can."

"I'd miss you, too," I admit. "And I'm happy here. I've got everything I want."

"But what if—?"

"Excuse me," Frankie says. I look at her guiltily, suddenly remembering she is my girlfriend. "Why don't I leave you two in peace so Angela can manipulate you without an audience?"

"Angela is not manip—"

"Yes, why don't you go visit Mrs. Rossini? Maybe she can give you another 'Marie story' to rip off to impress Sam."

"Excuse me?" This time Frankie sounds both indignant and scared.

"A 'Marie story'?" I say. "To rip off?"

"Yes, like the one about how Marie confided in Frankie before she eloped with you."

"Frankie was off at college by then! And they were never that close. The only person Marie told ahead of time was Mrs. Ros—" I break off and stare at Frankie.

"That's not how it happened. I did talk to Mrs. Rossini, but Sam must've misunderstood—"

"You lied to my daughter."

"I didn't lie. I just wanted her to be happy."

"You can't build happiness on a lie. Goodbye, Frankie."

She looks like she wants to argue. She's good at arguing and persuading. She is a lawyer after all. But she sighs and says, "Fine. But do everyone a favor, Tony."

"What's that?" I have to ask.

"Stop advertising yourself as single when you're not."

I stand there speechless as she descends the ladder and goes out of my life, presumably forever, or at least till the next Pitkin Avenue street fair. Then I look at Angela, who's smiling a little.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe she thinks you're still mourning Marie."

"Well, I miss Marie of course. And I would never get married again unless I was sure."

"Unless you were, you were in love?"

"Yeah." I swallow. "So how are you feeling? Do you want to head down?"

"I think I need to lie down again. I feel a little overwhelmed."

I nod. "Me, too."

She smiles more. "Well, it is a two-man tent."

I find myself smiling back. "With a two-man sleeping bag."

"Too bad I'm not a man."

"Hey, you can do anything a man can do."

"Well, most things."

"I'd rather snuggle with you than a man anyway."

She gives me a look like I haven't seen in months, not since the night I decided to move back into the house from Mona's apartment. And then she crawls back into the tent. I hesitate and then crawl in after her.

It's a warmer night than I expected and I find that solitude is overrated.

THE END