“Well, no. We aren’t doing anything except exchanging hot glances and talking in his office after work. And one afternoon we took off and went up to Hudson Mills and walked around the park and stopped for potatoes at Wendy’s on the way home. And talked about how we felt about each other. Our obligations to our families. So nothing is happening.”

“Oh.” I inhaled.

“We’ve decided to ignore each other and we manage to do that for a few days and then he gives me one of those looks, one of those I-want-you-I-miss-you looks and I get goose bumps. And then he leaves a message on my pager: “I miss you.” And a few hours later he pages me to his office. And I can’t stop thinking about him and I review every conversation over and over and over.”

“Like moths circling a flame.”

“We don’t want this. It’s so wrong. Adultery.” She shudders. “So wrong. I feel sick at myself. Sick at the thought of it. The lies. The secrets.” Her hands hold her elbows across her chest as she walks.

“We all get feelings for other men.”

“These seem … I don’t know … compelling. Irresistible. I don’t want to disrupt my children’s lives. And I don’t want to hurt Dan. But we kissed once and his lips stayed on mine, the sweet mint of his mouth, the texture of his tongue, I swear I felt him for hours and that night I had an amazing dream.”

“And Dan?”

“He just asks why I’m up so early. I can’t sleep. Wake up raring to go at four. I tell him something about so much to do and clean the house, do laundry, pack lunches. All that.”

“What’s with Dan? You and Dan?”

She looked down, examining her red-polished toes in her flip-flop sandals. I turned to her, but her eyes were closed. She had exchanged the Jean Naté for Charlie. “Nothing. There’s no pizzazz anymore.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can’t expect sex to be great after fifteen years. It’s product-oriented. It’s just about the come. Not our feelings for each other. Not even about recreational sex. Just hurry up and come so we can go to sleep and get up and do the next day.”

“Maybe you should go on a vacation. Just the two of you.” We walked over the wooden bridge. A pair of swans floated side by side down the river.

“Remember? Paris last spring?”

“I thought you had fun!”

“I loved the trip. The museums and churches. Walking around the Latin Quarter and hanging out in cafés. The great food. Not lots of fun making love. Or even talking. It was the same as here. Busy, busy, busy.”