Eye-in and Jodie glanced at each other. "Fine," Eye-in said. "I hear you. Let's forget adoption. Perhaps we can just legally change her name."

"Let me make myself perfectly clear," I said. "Her name will be Ava Levy until she decides to change it herself if and when she marries. You will adopt Ava over my dead body."

"You're so dramatic," Jodie said, rolling her eyes.

"No, this is dramatic," I said. "I will fight you with my last breath. Just try me." I stood up, scooped an oblivious Ava from her playpen, put on her jacket and settled her into her stroller. And then I headed out, restraining myself from slamming the door behind me.

Halfway down the block, my heart beating like crazy, I knelt down and stroked Ava's cheek. "I'm your father, Ava Levy. And I'm very proud of that."

"Chris! Wait."

I turned around to find Jodie running after me in her purple fleece. She caught up to me and stroked Ava's hair. "I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget it was brought up. We're just talking aloud, I guess. It was a s.h.i.tty thing to do to you. We honestly didn't know how you'd react. And to tell you the truth, I'm glad you reacted the way you did. I have to say, you've really changed, Chris."

Jodie's faint praise did absolutely nothing for me. But for Ava's sake, I smiled at my daughter's mother, told her we'd get through this transition just fine, and then left her standing in the middle of the street. I had a train to catch.

On Sat.u.r.day morning, I made Ava my mother's recipe for scrambled eggs (apparently, milk was the special ingredient), and then, on my way out, I knocked at Ginger's door as I'd been doing every day for the past month, but again there was no answer.

I didn't feel like going to the playgroup, but the Posse threw fits if someone didn't show up for any reason other than a death in the family or green slime running down a nose. I couldn't say I liked Nell and the Jens; they weren't particularly nice people, and they spent their playgroup one-upping each other on their kid's development. "Conner didn't sit up till he was seven months? Skylar sat up at five months!"

The playgroup it would be, though. It was too cold for the playground, and there wasn't much else to do on a cold Sat.u.r.day in Manhattan with a one-year-old. The Children's Museum would be packed, as would the other museums. At least two hours with the Posse would get me out of my apartment, out of my own head, and Ava loved crawling around and pulling up to standing with her pint-sized friends.

The playgroup was meeting at Nell's this morning. She lived in a huge two-bedroom on the thirtieth floor with sweeping views of the city and the East River.

"One day I'll give you this again," I told Ava as we headed inside.

"Chris, why are men such pigs?" Nell asked the second I walked in. I took off Ava's coat and hat and brought her into the living room, where Nell and the Jens and the babies were hanging out on the plush rug.

"Sloppy pigs or s.e.xual pigs?" I asked.

"Both," Blond Jen said with a smile.

"s.e.xual," Nell interjected. "Last night my husband told me he wanted a threesome for his birthday!"

I suddenly imagined Nell and the Jens naked on the rug, kissing, slurping, sucking, their hands roaming all over each other. I wasn't even particularly attracted to any of them, but the word threesome in a room of three women brought certain things to mind.

"I told him I'd think about it," Nell said, her eyes on me.

She was flirting with me again. She often did, slinking up against me in the narrow kitchen, arranging herself in provocative poses. Bringing up s.e.x and watching me for my reaction.

"That's probably your biggest fantasy, right?" she asked.

"My biggest fantasy is getting back together with my wife," I lied. I didn't even know why I'd said thatto knock Nell down a peg, maybe. It certainly wasn't true. I loved the idea of mother, father and baby living together in one big happy family, but I definitely didn't want to spend even five minutes in a room with Jodie.

Nell looked as though as I'd splashed cold water in her face. She didn't like the answer one bit.

"That's so sweet," she gushed, handing her daughter her sippy cup.

"Your wife doesn't know what she's missing," brunette Jen said, sending the Posse a quick eye roll. Did she think I missed it?

"Ava's so lucky to have a great dad like you," blond Jen added.

Get me out of here, I thought, watching Ava have a mini tug-of-war with Skylar for Conner's Care Bear.

We moved from s.e.x to what foods the babies were eating, to their sleep schedules, their naps, how often they moved their bowels.

The time ticked by so slowly. Only a half hour had pa.s.sed the last time I'd looked at my watch. Then an hour. I'd never make it a second hour. And then I got lucky. Emma and Conner began fighting and yawning and rubbing their eyes. It was time for those two to take a nap, which meant playgroup was disbanding early. While I settled Ava in her stroller, the Jens said goodbye and wheeled their crying babies out. I could still hear them screaming in the hallway.

"Ava is so well behaved," Nell said. "Those two," she added, gesturing at the door, "aren't parented properly. Conner gets away with murder, and Emma is disciplined for every little thing she does wrong."

And you're a perfect parent, I thought, rolling my eyes.

I settled Ava in her stroller, and two minutes later she was asleep, which never happened. I usually would have to walk her back and forth for a good five minutes before she'd lull to sleep.

"Ooh, it's raining," Nell said. "You can wait out the worst of it, if you want. I'm dying for a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary. Want one?"

The rain was coming down heavily. But did I really want to be trapped inside with Nell?

"Keep an eye on Skylar for a sec, will you?" she asked, disappearing into the kitchen. "Two b.l.o.o.d.y Marys coming up."

"Make mine a virgin," I said.

"A virgin," she repeated, coming back inside the living room with two b.l.o.o.d.y Marys. She walked over to where I sat on the couch, and I thought she was going to place my gla.s.s on the end table next to me, but instead, with a gla.s.s in each hand, she straddled me and rubbed herself up against me. "What could you possibly want with a virgin?" she purred. "What you need is an experienced woman." She ran her tongue over my lips.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

"Don't make me spill these," she said, rubbing herself against my lap. "This couch is off-white."

I took one drink and set it down, then the other. "Nell"

"I know," she said. "You've wanted to do this from the first minute you laid eyes on me."

No. Actually. I haven't.

"Nell," I said, pushing her off me. "We can't do this."

She laughed. "We are doing this."

I moved her off me. "I'm not breaking up a family."

She laughed. "Christopher, it's just s.e.x. Delicious s.e.x. Our little secret." She trailed a finger up my chest. "Wouldn't it be fun to have this hot little secret from the Jens?"

"No. I'm not interested, Nell. I mean it."

She finally looked at me, really looked at me. "You're going to tell me you're not attracted to me? I've seen the way you look at me."

"You're a beautiful woman, Nell. But I'm not interested in sleeping with someone's wife."

"I'm not 'someone's wife.' I'm Nell. Don't label me."

Was she nuts?

"Nell, I'm not looking for a fling."

She glared at me. "The door is that way. Oh, and you're out of the playgroup."

On Sunday I took Ava for a stroll along Second Avenue. I saw two-thirds of the Posse (the missing third being Nell) standing in front of Starbucks.

I tried to avoid them, but they chased me down.

"You're such a pig!" blond Jen said. "Nell told us what you did. You have no respect for marriage. Yours didn't work out, so you don't want anyone's to work out."

If Nell needed her friends to believe that I came on to her, so be it. When it came to self-defense, I preferred to save my energy for fights that really mattered, like for my right to be Ava's father.

I continued on my way. I had important business to attend to: posting flyers.

Weekend Dads' Playgroup: Separated Dad with Weekend Visitation of One-Year-Old Looking To Join or Start Playgroup...

I posted them wherever I was allowedGymboree, a couple of coffee lounges, the playroom of my old building. By Sunday afternoon, there were eight of us. At our first meeting, no one put on a diaper backwards. No one talked s.e.x. No one straddled me. No one talked wives or relationships. We talked sportsand sometimes babies while the little ones playedrather nicelytogether.

This was a playgroup.

On my way home from work on Monday, I knocked on Ginger's door. I heard a teakettle whistling and shoes clicking on the hardwood floor and then silence, so I knew she was inside.

I was used to people hating my guts, used to apologizing, used to it getting me nowhere. But I'd knock on Ginger's door until she opened it. Which might be never.

I rang the doorbell. "Ginger, I know you're in there. I can hear you moving furniture."

She turned up the music. Destiny's Child, I was pretty sure.

"Ginger," I shouted. "Please open up. I really want to talk to you."

No response.

"Okay, but I'm just going to sit out here on the Welcome mat until you open the door. You're going to need milk or coffee or groceries eventually."

No response. Five minutes pa.s.sed. She changed the CD to Norah Jones. Ten minutes pa.s.sed.

"Ginger, I'm still here."

Ten more minutes pa.s.sed. Five more.

"Ginger, I'm going to make myself comfortable, if you don't mind. I'll just spread out on the dirty floor."

Time pa.s.sed very slowly when you were flat on your back on a tiled floor. Norah Jones was replaced by a Blondie alb.u.m I hadn't heard since elementary school.

"Ginger, I think I see a mouse. Yup, that is definitely a mouse, wrinkling its nose at me, determining if I'm edible."

The music lowered. "I didn't think mice liked rats," she called out.

I jumped up. "Ginger, please open up. Please let me talk to you. Please."

The door opened. She stared at me, her expression stony. "What could you possibly have to say? 'I'm sorry'? I don't really care if you are, Christopher. You said a really s.h.i.tty thing and there's no getting around it. So why don't you stop knocking on my door, and we'll just move on."

"Move on as in pretend we don't know each other?"

She nodded.

"Ginger, the problem with that is that I do know you. And I think you're great. I didn't mean what I said that day. Jodie was threatening to stop me from seeing Ava, my back was up, and I said whatever I could to stop her."

"Christopher, that's all well and good, but it doesn't excuse you. A friend doesn't say what you did for any reason."

"Then let me say thisthat day I probably didn't realize how much your friendship meant to me. I know now. I had no idea how much I've come to rely on your smile every morning. How much it means to me for you to knock on my door and ask how I'm doing, how Ava's doing, your offers to run out and pick something up that Ava might need. You babysat Ava in the middle of the night when I was exhausted and needed to rest. I'm so used to demandsdemands that I do this, that, change, improvethat I'm completely unused to someone asking very nicely if I actually need help. I am sorry, Ginger. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry."

She bit her lip. "That's an apology I can accept."

"So would you like to come over and hang out? We can order in Mexican or Indian."

"I'd love to, but I have a hot date," she said. "You know, you almost did me a favor by being a cla.s.s-A jerk. I liked you against my better judgment. I knew falling for a newly separated guya new dad, toowas a risk, but sometimes you can't help how you feel. You were so mean to me that I forced myself to get over you fast. And now I have a second date with a terrific guy."

I smiled. "I'm glad. You deserve the world, Ginger."

"You do too. And I think you're on your way to getting it."

I extended my hand. "Friends?"

She shook. "Friends."

Ava woke me up on Sat.u.r.day morning at the crack of dawn. I sat with her on the sofa, one eye open on Sesame Street. Big Bird was rollerskating with Elmo and a girl monster.

"Bi-buh," Ava said, clapping her hands.

I stared at her. "Bi-buh?" I glanced at the television. Big Bird!

"Your first word!" I screamed. "You said your first word!" I scooped her up and danced up and down the hallway, then I put her down in her playpen and called Jodie. Ava said da for "Dada" and muh for "Mama," but bi-buh was her first non-mama or dada word. And it was two words!

"Ava said her first word!" I told Jodie. "Bi-buh!"

Jodie laughed. "Chris, she's been saying bi-buh for weeks."

"Oh. Hey, I thought she wasn't supposed to watch television."

"Sesame Street is educational," Jodie said. "And anyway, all things in moderation. Right?"

"Moderation does seem to be the name of the game."

"How's Ava?" she asked.

"She's great. We're great." I brought the cordless over to Ava's playpen. "Ava, say hi to Mama."