Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

tions.
    Beauchamp would smile as he passed Mary Ann’s desk, and sometimes even wink at her in the elevator, but there were no more invitations, no more anguished pleas for friendship.
    It was as if Mendocino had never happened.
    Fine, thought Mary Ann, if that’s the way he wants it. There were lots of other outlets for her energies … and miles to go before she slept.
    She cleaned out Edgar Halcyon’s coffee machine.
    She bought a glass-cutter and made a wine-jug terrarium for her desk.
    She created a “personal corner” of her bulletin board, filling it with Peanuts cartoons, fortune cookie messages and postcards from friends on vacation.
    Once a morning, she sat perfectly still at her desk, closed her eyes, and uttered the brave new litany of the seventies:
    “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”
    One night, Michael showed up at her door, bearing a clay pot shaped like a chicken.
    “It’s half of my poulet Tolliver, “ he grinned, pronouncing his name toe-lee-vay. “Mona’s out either raising her consciousness or lowering her expectations, and I thought … well, here.”
    “Michael, that’s very sweet.”
    “Don’t get gushy until you’ve seen it. It looks like a seagull that tangled with a 747.”
    “It smells delicious.”
    “Shall I put it on the parsons table?”
    “Fine. Thanks.”
    He set the crock down, then smiled, shaking his head.
    “What?” asked Mary Ann.
    “They do this in the South when somebody dies. Bring food, I mean.”
    “Well, you’re close.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Are you … have you eaten the other half of that chicken yet?”
    He shook his head.
    “Would you like company?”
    Michael rolled his eyes. “Sometimes to the point of obsession.”
    Mary Ann made a salad, while Michael was retrieving his half of the chicken.
    They dined by candlelight.
    “This is my first formal dinner … for a guest.”
    “I’m honored.”
    “I hope you like Green Goddess.”
    “Mmm. Next time we’ll have asparagus and you can show me your hollandaise recipe.”
    “How did you know I … oh …”
    Michael nodded. “Robert. I lost the recipe in the divorce settlement.”
    Mary Ann reddened. “It’s easy.”
    “I shouldn’t have brought up ancient history. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s O.K. I’ve always felt a little dumb about that.”
    “Why? Robert’s a hot number. I would have done it. Hell, I did do it. Where do you think I met him?”
    “The Safeway?”
    “Not that one, actually. The one on Upper Market. From my standpoint, it’s a lot cruisier.” He slapped his own cheek. “Stop that. You’re embarrassing the girl.”
    She laughed. “Do I look that out of it?”
    “No, I … yeah, sometimes.”
    “Well, I am.”
    “It’s very becoming, actually.”
    “I’ve heard that one before.”
    “Oh … who?”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    Michael smiled wryly, studying her expression. “Is that why you’re close to death?”
    “Michael, I …”
    “Look … let’s plan a big night next week. We can go out to someplace impossibly straight … like the Starlight Roof or something. You haven’t lived until you’ve done business with the Tolliver Gigolo Service.”
    She managed a grin. “That might be nice.”
    “Try to control your ecstasy, will you?”
    “I might not be here, Michael.”
    “Huh?”
    “I think I’m going home to Cleveland.”
    Michael whistled. “That’s not close to death. That is death.”
    “It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.”
    “You mean”—he threw his napkin down—”I just wasted a whole chicken making friends with a transient?” He stood up from the table, walked to the sofa, sat down and folded his arms. “Come over here. It’s time for a little girl talk!”

Michael’s Pep Talk
    M ARY ANN STOOD UP UNCERTAINLY, ILL AT EASE with Michael’s new role as mentor. She was sorry she had ever mentioned going home to Cleveland.
    “Can I get you some crème de menthe?”
    “Why are you leaving, Mary Ann?”
    She sat down next to him. “Lots of reasons … I don’t know … San Francisco in general.”
    “Just because some turkey dumped on you …”
    “It isn’t that…. Michael, there’s no stability here. Everything’s too easy. Nobody sticks with anybody or anything, because there’s always something just a little bit better waiting around the corner.”
    “What did he do anyway?”
    “I can’t handle all this, Michael. I want to live somewhere where you don’t have to