“I don't think so,” I said wanly, but I was actually dizzy. If it was an act, it was the best one I'd ever seen. If not, if he truly believed what he was saying, he was a very sick man. I had fallen in love with someone so sick, so insane, that it didn't bear thinking.

“Would you like to get pregnant?” he asked me then, pouring himself another full glass of bourbon. He had a mild case of the hiccups, and then suddenly I smelled something burning. It was our dinner. I had a chicken in the oven that looked like it had been incinerated when I opened the oven door to check it. “Don't worry. I can take you out to dinner. I have his American Express card. He doesn't know.” He looked very pleased about it.

“Peter, I am feeling too ill to go anywhere. This is not funny.” And I meant it. I had had enough of the game by then. But he was loving every minute of it.

“I'm sorry.” He looked crestfallen. He could see now how upset I was, but it only made the hiccups worse. What were the children going to think when they saw him, if he kept telling this insane story? Either he or I belonged in Bellevue. And I was ready to volunteer if he didn't start sounding normal again shortly. “You know, if you want to get pregnant, Steph, it's probably easier for me than for him. They worked all the kinks out of that last year.”

“I'm relieved to hear it. And no, I don't want to get pregnant. I just want you to behave like the man I fell in love with.” I was about to burst into tears, but I didn't want to seem like a bad sport, if he was just kidding. I was praying that it was just a side of his sense of humor I'd never seen before, combined with the bourbon. He poured a third glass then, while I stared at him.

“I'm actually a lot nicer than he is, Steph. To know me is to love me.” He giggled then and set down the bourbon, and came over to put his arms around me. And suddenly everything about him felt familiar again, despite the aftershave that tickled my nose. I leaned my head against the ridiculous black shirt, and I could see his chest through it. He was wearing a large diamond peace sign on a diamond chain that I hadn't noticed until then. And he saw that I'd seen it. “Great-looking, isn't it? I had it made by Carrier.”

“I think I'm having a nervous breakdown.” All I wanted was a Valium. I still had some left from the prescription the doctor had given me when Roger left me. But I wasn't sure if I should take it. Five more minutes of this, though, and I knew I'd have to.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” I looked up at him then, and realized that it was over. He was going to be Peter again, and stop playing mind games with me. I was exhausted. The “surprise” had gotten out of hand, and was now the size of the cloud over Hiroshima. “I'm here for two weeks, while he's gone. Let's just enjoy it.”

“You're making me crazy.” I was almost in tears by then, and it was going to take more than Valium to restore me. By then my sanity, if not his, was in question.

“I'm going to make you so happy you won't even want him back when he comes back from California.”

“I want him back now” I shouted at him, hoping to frighten away the insane spirit that had possessed him, and was now trying to unhook my bra as he put his arms around me. “I want you to leave here.”

“I can't,” he said gently, reminding me instantly of Peter's tenderness with me, and I started to cry as I leaned my head against his shoulder. This was insane. I was in love with a complete lunatic. And even this other, utterly crazy, side of him was endearing. “I promised him I'd take care of you till he got back. I can't leave you. He'd kill me.”

“I'm going to kill you if you don't stop this,” I said wanly.

“Just relax. Come on, I'll help you cook dinner. You just sit down for a minute, and I'll get things organized for you. Here, try this, you'll feel better.” He handed me the glass of bourbon, and put the other apron on. And as I stared at him, he whipped around the kitchen with ease. I felt as though my life had been taken over by Martians. He added half a dozen spices to the soup I'd had on the stove, and put a frozen pizza in the oven, and without saying a word, made a salad and a loaf of garlic bread. And ten minutes later, he turned to me with a smile and announced that dinner was ready. “Do you want me to call the children?” he asked helpfully. The hiccups were gone by then, and he took another swig of bourbon.

“What am I going to tell them?” I asked, feeling desperate and a little woozy. I'd been drinking his bourbon. I needed it a lot more than he did. “Are you going to keep this up all the way through dinner?”

“They'll get used to me, Steph. And so will you, I promise. None of you may want him back in two weeks. I'm a lot more fun than he is. And I cook better … not to mention…” He reached for my bra again and I leaned away from him in terror.

“Please! … for God's sake, Peter … not now!” What was I saying? Not now. Not ever! Not with this crazy man. Peter had always kept his passion confined to the bedroom. In this new guise, he seemed to have no inhibitions whatsoever.

“I'll call the kids, you just sit there!” he said sweetly, and before I could stop him, he had taken off down the hall to call them. “Kids! Dinner!” And before I could say anything at all, Sam rushed in and then stopped dead when he saw him, and grinned from ear to ear.

“Wow! Is that how you dress in California?”

“Actually, I got the pants in Milan last summer,” he said proudly. “Do you like them?”

“Yeah … kind of … they're rad!” Sam was smiling up at him in amusement. “I'll bet Mom doesn't though.” He glanced at me to check my reaction, and I was feeling too sick to say anything. I just nodded and smiled, as Charlotte walked into the kitchen and whistled.

“What happened? Did you go down to the Village today, Peter? I thought you were in California. You look like a rock star.”

“Thank you, Charlotte.” He smiled at her, as he put dinner on the table. “Your mother thought you'd be horrified.”

“No, but I'll bet she was,” she guffawed as she sat down at the table across from me, and I felt as though I had lost control of my life in a matter of moments. “I bought a shirt like that once. Mom made me take it back. She said I looked like a slut in it.” I took another swig of bourbon while Peter or Paul, or whoever he thought he was, sliced the pizza.

“I'll lend you this one, if your mother lets me,” he said magnanimously, as the children commented on how good the soup was. He had put too much spice in it, but they seemed to love it. And I was always so careful not to. Sam hated spicy things, and Charlotte always complained about my cooking. But they ate everything he'd made, and even had seconds. I was drunk halfway through dinner.

“What's wrong, Mom? You look sick,” Sam commented, between bantering with the madman who had cooked our dinner. The clean, cool, conservative man I had once known as Peter. I was beginning to think he was gone forever. Or I was.

“I'm just tired …” I explained vaguely.

“What are you drinking?” Sam asked with interest.

“Tea,” I said, sounding like an alcoholic.

“It smells like whiskey,” Charlotte commented as she helped clear the dishes. She never helped me clear unless I threatened her life. All it took was a see-through shirt and a pair of fluorescent green pants to enlist her assistance.

“Your mother's had a hard day,” Peter, alias Paul, explained gently. “She's tired. I'm going to put her to bed early,” he said, and they offered not a murmur. Charlotte had acted like Lizzie Borden every time he tried to take me to the movies or dinner, and now she was totally unruffled by his saying he was going to put me to bed early. My entire family had been possessed by aliens, and Peter with them. But even my sanity was no longer certain.

They helped him rinse the plates and load the dishwasher, and then went back to their homework, after telling me they hoped I felt better. Neither of them seemed the least bit concerned that Peter appeared to have gone berserk. Worse yet, they seemed to like it.

“What did you put in their food? LSD? They're acting as crazy as you are.”

“I told you they'd love me. More than they love him. Children sense it when someone genuinely cares about them. They respond to reality,” he explained gently as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne I'd been saving for a special occasion. And this wasn't the one I'd envisioned.

“What are you doing?” He had opened it before I could stop him.

“Pouring us a little bubbly before we go to bed.” He smiled wickedly.

“Here? Now?” I was shrieking again, but I wasn't about to go to bed with him in the same house as my children. I had made that clear earlier and I thought Peter understood it. “You can't go to bed with me here, Peter. You know that. Even in that outfit. I won't do it.”

“Relax. I'm going to stay in the guest room. We'll just sit and talk for a while, that's all. You need to unwind, Steph. You're all tensed up. It's not good for you to get so stressed out. Peter wouldn't like it. He sent me here to make you happy, not make you nervous.” But he had anyway. I had never been as nervous in my life or felt as disoriented. Paul had turned me topsy-turvy.

“Well, you're both crazy … you and Peter.” I wasn't sure if it was the bourbon or the fact that he was so convincing, but I was actually beginning to think of him as another person. “How can you do this to me?” He had turned my life upside down in a single evening. And what's more, my children didn't even seem to mind it. But what were they going to tell Roger when they saw him? That Mom had a boyfriend who acted like a madman, and drank gallons of bourbon? I'd lose custody over this nonsense. But as I thought of it, and began to feel hysterical again, he handed me a glass of champagne, and was shepherding me toward my bedroom before I could stop him.