UnderWoman

As advertised, The Buck Bomb has got legs to it!

That afternoon, as Nurse Esther arrives to administer IVIG infusion # 4, she shakes her head in disbelief.

“Smells like you had some kind of party last night!”

Indeed, the place still reeks of spilled wine and sprayed urine.

Soon, the super stops by to try piece together what had really happened.

She takes them to www.thebuckbomb.com, and they are hysterical, laughing.

Then Captain Quirk returns under auspices of “cleaning up the mess.”

Instead, strange stirrings emanate from the bathroom and back room.

UnderWoman finds him sniffing her medicine cabinets and clothes.

When ordered to surrender the goods, he tosses them onto the rocking chair, then holds his hands to his head in the exaggerated “I’ve got it” pose of huckster psychics everywhere. “Don’t tell me,” he says, picking the items up again: “In this hand we have a genuine hunting experience. And in the other, fragrance to die for.”

Pretty good, thinks UnderWoman! In one hand he is holding camo-splashed silk long underwear that still bears the chainsaw exhaust and wood fire smells of her last visit to Scoot’s; in the other, a limited edition fragrance that IFF had blended for Compassion & Choices.

“Fragrance to die by,” she corrects him, then shushes the increasingly boisterous group.

Because just then, Dr. Rich Granfeld calls.

“How are you, Ms. Do-It?”

“Well, I have not yet regurgitated a noodle out of my nose,” says UnderWoman.

“Oh yes. The noodle-out-of-the-nose incident of last July. We are well aware of that.

“How is your strength now – ocular, bulbar, respiratory?”

“Fluctuating.” Says UnderWoman. “Eyes stable for the past few days. Voice still unravels after sustained use, but is stronger. However, choking remains severe and frequent if I attempt to eat and talk at the same time.”

“Give it up,” says Dr. Granfeld…..”For now, I mean. And didn’t your mom ever tell you……”

They stay on the phone long enough for her voice to unravel.

“You must rest your voice,” he says. “Let me do the talking for a moment.”

He suggests adjustments to her meds, offers to e-mail these suggestions so she won’t have to take notes.

“I’m not even going to ask about Brian, because I want you to save your energy. But health permitting, we do have that appointment with he and Dr. House at The EpiCenter the day after tomorrow, yes? And we have a TCFAS planning session for right afterwards, no?”

UnderWoman takes her time, coughs up and examines a lump of cottage cheese that looks and smells surprisingly infantile. “ YES,” she chokes, “YES….”

There is SO MUCH to do between now and then. She starts making notes:

To share with Brian: The pigeon joke. (Please, let her not forget the pigeon joke.)
Rhubarb compote. Orange Flower Water.

In preparations for TCFAS (The Center for Applied Synesthesia) Fest:

Sensory Awareness sessions for attendees of all ages. The Wine Workout: Tastings to Train Senses and Brain. Intro to The Rod & Cone Club.

“Ms. Do-It? Ms. Do-It? Are you there?” Dr. Granfeld interrupts.

They close the conversation.

Captain Quirk comes out wearing one of UnderWoman’s Hong Kong-tailored skirts – a recent find in Chinatown — and smelling of lilacs. Not just any lilacs. But the LAST drops of pure lilac from Jean Laporte’s Eaux Du Grand Siecle.

“That,” she growls, furious, “is all that was left from the Petit Trianon lilac groves from the only year that they let Pierre harvest them. That’s it. The bottle’s run dry. You’re out!”

Captain Quirk giggles, swishes hips, places fingers to his lips, is shameless:

Now he has something that he must confess.

The first time they met, she had been slurring her words at a TCFAS opening.

Even though her assistant had been standing next to her in a shirt saying “She has myasthenia gravis, a disease that can make her so weak, she may have difficulty standing or speaking clearly,” Captain Quirk had assumed that, if the hostess was drunk at 4 in the afternoon, the only polite thing was to join her…QUICKLY.

He became tipsy, and had stayed that way!

Oh, and by the way, was there any more of that very good rosé from yesterday?