Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

question mark,” said Michael.
    “What?”
    “The pier. It’s a giant question mark.”
    Jon looked across the black lagoon defined by the curve of the pier. “No it’s not. It bends the other way. It’s a backwards question mark.”
    “Doctors are so literal.”
    “Sorry.”
    “I never told you about my chimp, did I?”
    “As in monkey?”
    “Uh huh. Do you wanna hear it?”
    “By all means.”
    “Well … ever since I was a kid I’ve always wanted a chimp. I used to fantasize about training a chimp to burst into my fifth-grade classroom and throw water balloons at my teacher, Miss Watson.” He laughed. “She was probably a dyke, come to think of it. I should’ve been nicer to her…. Anyway, I never outgrew it … the desire to own one … and last year I happened to mention this to my ex-lover…. I mean, he’s my ex-lover now…. He was my lover at the time.”
    “Stick to the chimp.”
    “O.K…. The big coincidence was that Christopher had had this exact same fantasy ever since he was a kid. Sooo … we talked about it for a while and decided we were two responsible adults and there was no reason in the world why we shouldn’t have one. Anyway, Christopher contacted this friend of his at Marine World who knew how to handle all the red tape and everything and eventually … we ended up the proud parents of a teenaged chimp named Andrew.”
    Jon smiled. “Andrew, Michael and Christopher. Very nice.”
    “We thought so. And it worked out beautifully, after we got past the toilet-training part and all. We took him everywhere … Golden Gate Park, the Renaissance Faire … and the zoo. Christ, he adored the zoo! Then one day our friend at Marine World asked if we would … like … mate him with a lady chimp that belonged to a friend of his. Naturally, we were pretty excited about this, since it would make us grandparents, in effect.”
    “In effect.”
    “So the big day came … but Andrew didn’t.”
    “Oh, no!”
    “Hell, he wouldn’t even go in the same room with her.”
    “O.K., let me guess.”
    Michael nodded soberly. “Queer as a goddamn three-dollar bill!”
    “Now wait a minute!”
    “I could handle it O.K., because I really loved Andrew, but Christopher took it personally. He was convinced that if he had played more ball with Andrew …”
    Jon began to laugh. “You’re too much!”
    “It was awful, I tell you! Christopher accused me of mollycoddling Andrew and taking him to too many Busby Berkeley movies and … letting him see the men’s underwear section of the Sears catalogue!”
    “Stop it!”
    Michael grinned finally, forsaking the game altogether. “You like that one, do you?”
    “Do you always make things up?”
    “Always.”
    “Why?”
    Michael shrugged. “ ‘I want to deceive him just enough to make him want me.’”
    “What’s that from?”
    “Blanche DuBois. In Streetcar .”
    Jon threw an arm around Michael’s neck. “Come over here, Blanche.” They kissed for a long time, pressed against the cold concrete.
    When they separated, Michael said, “Would it sound better if the lover was named Andrew and the chimp Christopher?”
    “You made up the lover too?”
    “Oh … especially the lover.”

The Mysterious Caller
    T HE WIND WAS RISING ON THE BEACH, SO ANNA READ justed the blanket that sheltered them. “Here, Edgar … cover up. Somebody might see your Brooks Brothers ensemble.”
    “Watch it.”
    “Say … those socks are adorable … pardon the expression. I understand everybody in St. Moritz is wearing charcoal over-the-calves these days!”
    “That tickles, Anna. Cut it out.”
    “Ticklish? Edgar Halcyon? Is nothing sacred?”
    “Anna, I’m warning you …”
    “Tough talk for a city boy!” She jumped up suddenly, giving his loosened tie a yank, and pranced down the beach. Edgar chased her back into the dunes, then tackled her with a Samurai yelp.
    They lay there together, laughing and gasping.
    “C’mon,” said Anna, taking his hands. “Let’s go find some flotsam and/or jetsam.”
    “Wait a minute, Anna.”
    “Are you all right?”
    “Yes. I …”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I’m fine.”
    “I keep forgetting you’re an old buzzard.”
    “I’m two years older than you.”
    “Right. An old buzzard.”
    The sky cleared at four o’clock. They walked barefoot up the beach.
    “This reminds me of something,” Edgar said.
    “A bourbon commercial?”
    He smiled and squeezed her hand. “When I was nineteen, my