Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

never would’ve guessed.”
    “I thought everybody was afraid of the dark. It’s the only thing that distinguishes us from animals.”
    D’or grinned. “Not me. Black is Beautiful, remember?”
    “It looks good on you, anyway.”
    D’or stopped walking and took Mona’s hands in hers. “Hon … would you still …?”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” She dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand and began walking again. “No big deal.” Mona frowned. “I hate that.”
    “What, hon?”
    “The way you weed out things you think I can’t handle.”
    “I don’t mean to seem …”
    “I’m not all that fucking fragile, D’or. Don’t you think you could communicate a little more?”
    “Fine.” D’or looked hurt.
    “And I don’t need to hear that you love me. I know you love me. D or. The thing is … you don’t really share your … your thoughts with me. Sometimes I feel like I’m living with a stranger.”
    Silence.
    “I’m sorry. You asked what was bothering me.”
    “You want to move out. Is that it?”
    “No! I never expected miracles, D’or … ever. I just …”
    “Is it the sex part? I’ve told you that isn’t important to me if …”
    “D’or … I like you a lot.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Well, goddammit … that’s a lot, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not sure I even need a lover, male or female. Sometimes I think I’d settle for five good friends.”
    They walked in silence for several minutes. Then D’orothea said: “So what do we do?”
    “I want to stay, D’or.”
    “But I have to shape up. Is that it?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Look, Mona … you’re bitching about something .”
    Mona glared at her. “Do you really think it’s my function in life to sit here on my ass all day while you’re out there making another hundred thou off the same son-of-a-bitch who fired me?”
    “Mona … I could talk to Edgar Halcyon about …”
    “You do and I’ll pack tomorrow.”
    “Well, what then? What do you want me to do?”
    “I don’t know … I feel cut off, somehow. I can’t hack all these blue-haired old ladies with Mace in their pocketbooks, marching their poodles endlessly up and down the …”
    “There’s nothing I can do about …”
    “You could let me share your life, D’or. Introduce me to your friends … and your family. Christ, your parents are in Oakland and I’ve never even seen them!”
    D’orothea’s tone grew chilly. “Let’s not drag my parents into this.”
    “Ah!”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means you’re petrified that Mommy and Daddy will find out you’re a dyke!”
    “It does not.”
    “Well, what, then?”
    “I don’t … talk to my parents. I haven’t exchanged a word with them since I got back from New York. Not a word.”
    “C’mon!”
    “Have you seen me do it? When have I talked to them?”
    “But why?”
    “When did you last talk to your mother?”
    “That’s different. She’s in Minneapolis. It wouldn’t take that much for you to …”
    “You haven’t the slightest idea what it would take, Mona.”
    Mona stopped walking and turned to confront her. “Look, I know you must be a lot more …” She cut herself off.
    “A lot more what?”
    “I don’t know … sophisticated?”
    D’orothea laughed ruefully. “That ain’t the half of it, honey!”
    “Well, so what? Do I look like a snob to you? I’ve done a thing or two for Third World people, you know!”
    “My father is a baker in the Twinkie factory, Mona!”
    Mona stifled a grin. “You made that up.”
    “Drop it, will you?”
    “No. You think I can’t relate to older black people, don’t you? Racist and agist, in spite of myself!”
    Silence.
    “That’s it, isn’t it?”
    “I think you’re very good with people. Now let’s drop it, O.K.?”
    So Mona shut up.
    Her liberal consciousness, however, wouldn’t permit her to discard the issue.
    She would pursue the matter on her own.
    There couldn’t be that many Wilsons working at the Twinkie factory.

Michael’s Visitor
    M ICHAEL WAS MAKING HIS BED WHEN THE DOOR buzzer rang. He sped up the procedure, laughing at himself. He never made his bed for himself. He did it for others … or the hope of others.
    The same reason, really, that he kept the toilet clean and a fresh guest toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet. You never knew for sure when you were auditioning for the role of housewife.
    He opened the door on the second ring, prepared once more to be a sympathetic ear