Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

you too, sister!”
    He was talking to Mona. Directly to her. He smiled radiantly and embraced her, sprinkling her with juju dust.
    Even with the Quaalude, Mona stiffened. She hated herself for it, for the cynicism that cloaked her embarrassment over anything personal. She wanted him to go away.
    He would not.
    “Do you hear me, sister?”
    She nodded, smiling feebly.
    “Chairman Jesus loves you! He loves all of us! The black and the brown and the yellow and the white … and the lavender!” The last color was directed to the man in the prom gown.
    Mona looked at the drag queen, praying that Sessums had shifted his focus.
    He had not.
    “If you believe Willy … if you believe that Chairman Jesus loves you more than oil companies, more than Big Business and Male Chauvinists and the House Armed Services Committee … if you believe that, sister, then let ol’ Willy hear a ‘Right on!’”
    Mona swallowed. “Right on,” she said.
    “What’s that, sister?”
    “Right on.”
    “Make it loud, sister, so Chairman Jesus can hear you!”
    “Right on!”
    “AwwwwwwwHiiight! You’re beautiful, sister!” He began to sway and clap to the music again, winking privately at Mona like a nightclub comedian who had just had harmless fun at her expense.
    The band broke into “Love Will Keep Us Together” as Sessums moved on.
    “This is to die over,” said the drag queen, recognizing the song. “Don’t you absolutely adore the Captain and Tennille?” Mona nodded, collecting herself.
    Her fellow churchgoer fumbled in his purse and produced a bullet-shaped inhaler. He handed it to her. “Have a popper, honey.”
    After church, she drove back to Barbary Lane and fell into a black, contemplative mood.
    She was thirty-one years old. She needed a job. She was living with a man who might leave her at any moment for another man. Her mother in Minneapolis had somehow lost the power to communicate with her.
    Her only real guardian was Anna Madrigal, and the landlady’s interest had recently assumed an intensity that made her nervous.
    Seeds and stems, seeds and stems.
    The phone rang.
    “Yeah?”
    “Mona?”
    “Right.”
    “This is D’orothea.”
    “Jesus. Where are you?”
    “Here. In town. Are you glad?”
    “Of course, I’m … Are you on vacation?”
    “Nope. This is it. I did it. I’m here for good. Can I see you?
    “I … sure.”
    “Try not to sound so ecstatic.”
    “I’m just a little surprised, D’or. What about lunch tomorrow?”
    “I was hoping for dinner tonight.”
    “I can’t, D’or. I’m going to … a dance contest.”
    “Good reason.”
    “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
    “What time?”
    “Noon? Here?”
    “Twenty-eight Barbary Lane?”
    “Yeah … O.K.?”
    “I’ve missed the hell out of you, Mona.”
    “I’ve missed you too, D’or.”

Child’s Play
    M ARY ANN STOPPED BY MONA’SJUST BEFORE NOON. She was wearing what Michael referred to as her “Lauren Hutton drag.”
    Levi’s and a pink button-down shirt from the boys’ department at Brooks Brothers … with a pale-blue crew-neck sweater knotted cavalierly around her neck.
    “Hi,” she chirped. “Do you guys feel like brunch at Mama’s?”
    Mona shook her head. “Michael’s not eating. The big contest is tonight, and he thinks he’s fat.”
    “Where is he?”
    “Down in the courtyard … bronzing his fat.”
    Mary Ann laughed. “What about you, then?”
    “Thanks. I think I’ll pass.”
    “Are you … O.K., Mona?”
    “Don’t I look it?”
    “Sure … I didn’t mean … You look … distracted, that’s all.”
    Mona shrugged and looked out the window. “I just hope it’s not terminal.”
    The line at Mama’s snaked out of the building and up Stockton Street. Mary Ann was considering alternative brunch spots when a familiar figure in the crowd signaled her sheepishly.
    “Oh … hi, Norman.’’
    “Hello. I’ve been saving your spot.” He winked at her rather obviously, fooling no one around him. Mary Ann slipped into the line behind him.
    A little girl tugged on Norman’s leg. “Who’s she?” she asked.
    Norman smiled. “She’s a friend, Lexy.”
    “Well,” said Mary Ann, looking down at the child. “Where did you come from?”
    “My mommy.”
    Mary Ann giggled. “She’s precious, Norman. Does she belong to you?”
    Before he could answer, the child reached up and tugged at Mary Ann’s sweater. “Are you breaking in line?”
    “Well, I …”
    Norman laughed.