"Look, you don't have to yell, Savannah."

"Let me ask you something, Isaac."

"I'm listening."

"Are you still a Republican?"

There is a long silence. And then, "To be honest with you, Savannah, I don't know what I am anymore."

"Good luck figuring it out. I hate to say it, but I'm glad I divorced your sorry ass. It's men like you who give the good ones a bad name. Have a good life." I hang up, open my laptop and log on to FICO to see if my credit rating has changed. The first thing it says on top is: "Score Watch: Your score has dropped 36 points."

My mouth drops another ten.

I jump up from my desk and walk out into the studio until I spot Thora. I don't see the twins but I spot them in Sally's office, taking turns drinking out of her Starbucks cup. "Thora, I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Remember when you told me about your flat in Paris?"

"I do, indeed."

"And you said if I ever wanted to go you'd be happy to rent it to me."

"I didn't say rent. rent. You're welcome to stay there anytime. We have caretakers and would just need to give them a few weeks' notice to get everything in tip-top shape. How soon would you like to go?" You're welcome to stay there anytime. We have caretakers and would just need to give them a few weeks' notice to get everything in tip-top shape. How soon would you like to go?"

"I wish I could go today but all I know is I need a fucking vacation so bad I can almost taste it."

"Don't let him get to you. They're like ghosts who haunt you, but pretty soon he'll have no effect on you whatsoever."

"I'm waiting for that moment. Right now I feel like I need to do something or I'm going to explode."

"Don't we all? I'll be honest, I love these boys to death but some days I wish to hell I could drop them off at daycare for about a month."

"How long could I stay?"

"How long do you need?"

"A couple of weeks would help."

"That's all? Are you sure?"

"Well, how long do you think I could get off?"

"Are you kidding me? You can work from Paris. They've got the Internet over there, too. Duh."

"Maybe I need to give this a little more thought."

"Don't think. That's part of our problem. When we get to be our age we're too fucking practical. Just go, and think about it once you're on the plane."

"You could be right, Thora."

"Of course I am. Start brushing up on your French and get back in that office and book your flight and make sure it's a non-refundable one so you won't be inclined to change your mind. Wait. Is there any way you could squeeze in a coffee with Jasper before you leave?"

I want to say no but since she's being so nice, I say, "Sure."

She gives me a hug and then the boys appear out of nowhere and start tugging at her skirt.

"Thanks a million, Thora. Goodbye, boys. Hope to see you again soon." I smile and wave and I can't believe it when those little fuckers give me the finger! Where do they learn this stuff?

I book a fully refundable flight a month from now. Not because I think I might change my mind. Not even. But as is becoming more and more obvious to me: shit happens. Right now, my heart is pounding like crazy because I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I lean back in my chair and slowly rock until the confirmation lands in my in-box. It's at this moment I decide not to tell my girlfriends, at least not until I'm almost packed. They'd probably freak out I'm going alone. But I need to go by myself. I need to hear myself think. Or not think. Mostly I just want to see if I remember who I am. And what I'm going to do about it.

Returns

"Yes, I'd like to return this dress," I say to the cashier after taking it out of their nice shiny shopping bag.

She looks at my receipt. "You can't return items after ten days. Sorry," she says and hands it back to me.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's store policy."

"But I've shopped here for years and I've never had any problems returning anything."

"Well, I've worked here for ten years and it's always been store policy."

What a little bitch. First of all, it looks like everything on her body has been purchased and she still looks bad. Be nice, Robin, be nice. "As you can see, I haven't worn the dress."

"I can see that, ma'am. However, in order for me to accept it I have to be able to restock it, and I can't do that after ten days."

"Why not?"

"As I previously stated: it's store policy."

"Look, I paid two hundred eight dollars for this dress. Now it's on sale for one forty-eight. All I want to do is exchange it so I can get it at the cheaper price."

She looks bored. I would really like to slap her ass into next week, but I take my raspberry knit dress I absolutely love and walk down the aisle to a different register. This clerk is young and carefree. Her hair is black and green. Her minidress is orange and yellow. She looks like a toucan. And she's cute. She's also chewing gum, which is a very good sign.

"Hello," I say in my friendliest "return" voice.

"Hello to you back. How may I help you today?"

"I have a return." I hand her the dress and the receipt. She starts punching numbers on the cash register, tosses the dress on top of a pile of other returns, and hands me the receipt. "You'll see a credit on your next statement. Anything else I can do for you today?"

"Nope. You've been quite helpful."

And off she goes. She sits in an empty chair, crosses her legs and prepares to people-watch. I pick my dress up and take it to another register out of her line of vision.

"Yes, I'd like to get this dress," I say to the new clerk, whose hair is feathered like Farrah Fawcett wore back in the seventies. I didn't know that look was back! "I love your hair."

"Thanks. It's supposed to look like Farrah Fawcett. You know, from the seventies or eighties."

"Well, it works in 2005, too."

"Thanks again. Shall I put this in a dressing room for you?"

"No, that's okay."

"You sure you wouldn't like to try it on first?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it'll fit."

"Okay. This is a final sale, which means the dress can't be returned, sweetheart. Are you sure you don't want to try it on?"

"I'm sure. I think it'll fit. What is the sale price?"

"Well, you're in luck today. This gorgeous dress has been marked down from two hundred eight to one forty-eight!"

"Wow, that's super! But tell me something . . ." I say, looking at her name tag ". . . Claudia. May I use this twenty-five-dollar coupon in addition to the sales price?"

"You most certainly may! Wow. You're quite the smart shopper, because you are now getting this lovely dress for the super-deluxe low price of one hundred twenty-three dollars. Would you like another shopping bag?"

"No, this one's fine." I open my bag wide enough for her to drop the now tissue-papered dress right on in.

"Enjoy!" she says. "I hope you're going somewhere nice to wear it!"

If only.

I've been trying not to remind myself I got stood up by somebody I never even met. Sparrow didn't bother to ask how it went, because she saw the look on my face when I stormed past her and went into my room and slammed the door. I also didn't bother to mention I'd run into her trifling father. The first thing I did was wipe off my makeup. Then I took an extra-long shower and put my favorite yellow jammies on. I sat on the bed with the television off and called Dark Angel. He actually had the nerve to answer.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"Tiger Lady?"

"Expecting someone else? How many of us have you stood up, Dark Angel?"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. I thought our date was tomorrow."

"That is so not true. That is so lame. What do you take me for?"

"Seriously. Maybe I'm tripping, but I've got you in my Blackberry for tomorrow."

"Is that a baby I hear crying in the background?" I get up and take the portable down to my office. Sparrow had set the mail on my chair. I put it on the desk and sit down.

"That's my sister's baby."

All of this was just a little too shaky. "Look, Dark Angel, I'm curious about something."

"I'm listening, baby."

"Please don't call me baby."

"Okay, I'm listening, Tiger Lady."

"My name is not Tiger Lady. It's Robin." This was when I saw that manila envelope I sent him a couple of weeks ago. "No Such Address" was stamped on the front. I opened it, took out the copy of Selected Poems of Langston Hughes Selected Poems of Langston Hughes and ripped up the three-hundred-dollar check I thought might help him self-publish his book. and ripped up the three-hundred-dollar check I thought might help him self-publish his book.

"Okay, Robin, Tiger Lady, whatever works for you."

"Did you ever get the book I sent?"

"Of course I did."

"Have you had a chance to read any of the poems?"

"Yes, I have."

"Tell me one of your favorites."

"I've got lots of them, Robin. Tell me one of yours."

" 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' "

"I loved that one, too. It was beautiful."

"So, Dark Angel . . . who is that I hear talking in the background?"

"That's my sister."

"Are you at her house?"

"Yes, I am."

"In Phoenix?"

"Glendale."

"She sounds upset about something."

"She's always upset."

"And where is it you live again?"

"Well, I have more than one residence."