How to Talk to a Widower

from under the comforter, and I can feel her breasts on my thighs, her lips vibrating against my spanking-new erection. “Why pay for the cow, when you can get milked for free?” And then she’s on me in earnest, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the hot wetness of her mouth as Laney does her best to swallow me whole.

    Later, we come upstairs and find Claire and Russ in the kitchen, quietly eating Laney’s meatloaf right out of the tin. “Hey,” I say awkwardly. “I didn’t know you guys were home.”
    “We were being quiet,” Russ says. “Unlike some people I could name.”
    “I’m Claire,” Claire says, waving from her seat. “The screwed-up twin sister. I’m sure he’s told you all about me.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Laney says, blushing intensely the way redheads do, looking like she might spontaneously combust. “Hello, Russ.”
    “Hey, Mrs. Potter,” Russ says. “Great meatloaf.”
    “I’m glad you like it.”
    “You want to stay for dinner?” Claire says.
    “No,” Laney says, louder than she probably meant to. “I think I’d better be leaving. I’ve got to … leave. So, thanks anyway.”
    “Okay. Well, thanks for being such a good friend to my brother,” Claire says without a trace of irony.
    “Don’t mention it,” Laney says, practically bolting from the kitchen.
    “I’m sorry about that,” I say at the front door.
    “I’m still shaking.”
    “Kind of bursts the bubble a little, doesn’t it?”
    She gives me a quick hug, putting her lips on my ear. “I’ll just blow another one,” she says. And then she’s out the front door, running across the lawn like she’s being chased by wild dogs.

    When I get back to the kitchen there’s a place set for me, and Claire and Russ are quietly eating their meatloaf. “Okay,” I say. “She’s gone.”
    They continue to eat and feign disinterest until Claire points her fork at me. “That’s it,” she says. “From now on, I’m sleeping in Russ’s room.” And then the two of them lose it, beating the table and laughing until there are tears in their eyes, until I have no choice but to join them.
    “Listen, Russ,” I say after a bit. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.”
    “Thankfully, I didn’t,” he says, wiping his eyes. “I just heard some of it.”
    “My ears are still bleeding,” Claire says.
    “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
    “My impression is that you were banging Mrs. Potter, who I’ve always thought is hands down the hottest housewife in New Radford. Which part of that is wrong?”
    I collapse into a chair across from him. “All of it,” I say wearily. “It’s all wrong.”
    “If you feel that bad about it, send her my way, dude. I’m grieving too, you know. I would tap that in a heartbeat.”
    “Right or wrong, if she can screw like she can cook, then I’ll sleep with her myself,” Claire says, sliding me a plate. “This meatloaf is delicious.”
    “You certainly earned it,” Russ says, and they burst into another paroxysm of laughter.
    “Listen,” Claire says after a while. “There’s nothing wrong with some misdirected sex every now and then, but Russ and I feel that it’s time for you to start looking for more suitable partners.”
    “You’re in on this too now?” I say to Russ.
    “What she said,” Russ says with a smirk, cutting himself another slab of meatloaf.
    “Now, according to my extensive research, your best bet is someone named Sabrina Barclay. Do you know her?” Claire says.
    “No.”
    “Good. Then it will be a blind date.”
    “No, thanks.”
    “No choice, Dougie. You agreed to put yourself in my hands, and this is happening. Just say yes.”
    “Does your extensive research include anything aside from your single conversation with Mandy Seaver?”
    “The woman’s a realtor. She has an eye for detail.”
    “How do you know this Sabrina will even want to go out with me?”
    “You don’t have an ex-wife or kids to deal with. You’ve been forged by tragedy, touched by an act of God, not stained by a bad divorce. And you have a full head of hair. You’re young, slim, and sad. Trust me,” she says, chewing on some bread. “You’re beautiful.”
    “Young, slim, and sad,” I repeat. “Who knew?”
    “Also, I already spoke to her.”
    “You made a date for me?”
    Claire takes a bite of meatloaf. “I’m taking care of business, Dougie.”
    “Claire.”
    “Don’t Claire me. You have no downside. Worst-case scenario, you