(Click here to return to the first chapter of this “rollicking and ribald romp through the lower depths of today’s Tinsletown” -- (J.J. Hunsecker, in the Cape May Star and Times.)
It seemed like he had almost forgotten how nice it could be.
But then come to think of it maybe it never had been this nice.
“Um,” he said, “I guess we’re supposed to use a condom, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Uh, do you have any?”
“No,” she said. “Don’t you?”
Okay, he had gone through tons of condoms in his life up until his dry spell of the past year, but like any good philandering husband he had always bought them on an ad hoc basis. And so, not being entirely forthcoming:
“No, I don’t. Joan was on the pill. Not that she needed to take the pill as far as I was concerned, since we didn’t -- or at least we hadn’t in a long time, but -- are you on the pill?”
“No,” she said.
She turned her head and looked away, biting her lip. She had let her hair down and her curls were exploded all over the pillow. Okay --
No. He owed it to her not even to suggest, not even to --
“Y’know, I could -- just put it in for a little while, and then -- you know --”
She quickly turned her face to his, her eyes wide open.
“Oh my God, I’ve never done that.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not that much fun, really.”
“I mean, I’ve never -- I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
“Oh,” said Buddy. “That --”
“Sucks. I know.”
She looked up at him. He looked down at her.
“Yeah?” she said.
“Uh -- there’s other ways we can enjoy ourselves,” said Buddy.
“You’re such an old pro, huh?”
A minute later, “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh no. Oh no.” Buddy stopped doing what he was doing. “Why’d you stop?” she said.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, and he went back to it.
“What’s that?” she said.
Buddy stopped again.
“That buzzing sound.”
“Oh, it’s my cellphone.” Which was in his pants, which were on the floor. “It’s on Manner Mode. It buzzes and vibrates instead of ringing, for like when you’re in a restaurant.”
“Like we are now?”
“You don’t need to answer it?”
The buzzing stopped.
“Okay,” said Buddy.
“Wait!” said Cordelia.
“Wait, I think I might have a condom.”
She swung her leg over his head, and got out of the bed.
“Don’t look at me,” she said.
He looked at her. Okay, body nowhere nearly as toned or as muscular as Joan’s, hips and backside fuller and softer, breasts a bit smaller but much more -- realistic, because they were real. She looked human.
She picked up her red backpack, which she had dropped to the floor halfway from the door when they came in. She brought it over to the bed and sat down with it on her lap.
“There might be one in here somewhere. I was seeing this dude for about two minutes back in New York, and I think -- but then we’d better check the expiration date, but, wait -- no --”
Buddy put his hand on her hip and watched her as she rummaged through the pack.
“I said don’t look at me,” she said.
“Okay,” said Buddy.
He sat up behind her, and put his hand on her breast. With his other hand he moved her hair away from her neck and then he kissed her neck. She moved her head up and around in a circle.
He leaned down around her shoulder and kissed her Saturn tattoo. She put her hand on his hand which was on her breast. She smelled like -- what -- warm honey, warm honey and --
Then Buddy heard Philip yelling downstairs and, more faintly, Liz yelling from out front.
Cordelia turned her face to his.
“My kids,” whispered Buddy.
“Your kids,” she whispered back.
“My two grown kids. By my other marriage.”
“Oh. Why are they here?”
“Philip moved back in a couple of weeks ago. Now Liz is moving back too and Philip is helping her.”
“Oh. Philip and Liz.”
“Yeah. They were in Milwaukee. I didn’t know they’d be getting here today.”
“I see. What should we do?”
“Well, we could hide in here.”
They could still hear Philip yelling downstairs, and now they could hear Liz’s voice indoors too.
“The door’s open,” Cordelia said.
His bedroom door. They hadn’t been very discreet as they tumbled in from the hallway.
“Should I close it?” she said.
“Yeah, why don’t you close it while we -- whatever.”
She put the backpack on the floor and got up and tiptoed over to the doorway. (And Buddy memorized her doing this.) She gently closed the door and tiptoed back to the bed. She had one knee up on it and Buddy had his hand on her thigh when he said:
“Oh, wait, you didn’t put the bolt on.”
“The bolt -- oh --”
She got off the bed again and took a step, but there was a thump, thump, rapid thumping on the stairs, and she froze -- thump, thump, thump -- then she tiptoed forward but right before she reached the door it opened and Philip was there, saying:
“Yo! Dad! You here? Oh -- oh -- oh -- wow --”
Cordelia stood there on her toes, her hands half raised.
“Shut the door, Philip,” said Buddy.
“Ah, shit, Dad, I’m sorry. Hello,” he said to Cordelia.
“Hello,” she said.
“Phil --” said Buddy.
“Oh, sorry --”
And Philip started to close the door, but as it was almost closed he said:
“Dad, you want us, I mean me and Liz, you want us to like, you know, disappear for a while, or --”
“I don’t care, Philip.”
“I just had to use the head, Dad, and I figured you were home ‘cause I saw your car, and your door was open, and, I don’t
“It’s okay, Phil, just close the door, okay, let us get dressed.”
“Okay,” he said, through the crack.
“That’s okay, Philip,” said Cordelia. “You didn’t know.”
“I know. I just had to take a pee.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“Well, I’ll see you guys,” said Philip.
For some reason the maniac hadn’t shut the door yet. Was he high?
“I’m really sorry,” he said. He was high. “Really --”
“Philip, it’s okay,” said Buddy. “Just shut the fucking door.”
“Okay. Nice meeting you, miss. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Cordelia.
And, finally, he shut the fucking door.
(Continued here, despite the cries of the nay-sayers.)
(Please see the right hand side of this page for a listing of links to all other published chapters of Uncle Buddy’s House™, recently awarded the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.)