Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

for several seconds, finally lifting the binoculars to study the inscription. She held that position for a long time.
    Suddenly—God almighty!—she walked away from the window, and came back moments later holding a telephone. Brian lunged for his own phone, instantly grateful he had ordered the model with an extension cord.
    They were both in position now, once again duplicates of each other.
    Brian watched her through the binoculars. In the conch-shell pinkness of her room, her robed body seemed to pulse with warmth. He knew what she smelled like—the sweet, grassy scent of her wet hair, the smoldering musk of her breasts …
    Oh, Jesus, she was dialing!
    One … two … three … four … five … six … seven.
    Brian’s phone rang.
    He lifted the receiver gently, fearful of frightening her. “Hello,” he said, in a calm, well-modulated voice.
    Silence.
    “Look, if you’d just give me your phone number, we could … I could call you sometime … that’s all.” He could hear her breathing now. He could watch her standing mute by the phone.
    “Hey … tell me your name, then … just your first name, if you want. I’m a nice guy … I swear. Christ! Don’t you think this is a little weird?”
    The breathing grew louder. At first, he thought she was toying with him, taunting him with sexy noises. Then he realized she was crying.
    “Hey … I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean it to sound like—”
    She hung up on him. He watched her sink into a chair and crumple into a tight little knot of despair. Half a minute later she stood and closed the curtains.
    Brian pulled up a chair and sat watching her window until he fell asleep.

Kinfolks
    M ONA’S CONVERSATION WITH MRS. MADRIGAL took forty-five minutes. When it was over, she left her cubicle and wandered out into the desert. About a hundred yards from the house a discarded truck seat offered her a sheltered refuge.
    She sat down and watched the midnight sky for several minutes, halfway believing that a flying saucer would appear there to take her away from this hideous, surreal landscape.
    In San Francisco now the hills would be green—a delicate shade of celadon—and soft as the fuzz on a deer’s antlers. There would be daffodils in Washington Square and purple pleroma trees on Barbary Lane and dozens and dozens of calla lillies stoically bracing themselves for Michael’s annual impression of Katharine Hepburn.
    And her father would be there! Her father, her mother, her best friend and her landlady, all rolled into one joyful and loving human being!
    She sprang from the truck seat and ran back to the lodge, her heart pounding with anticipation, her brain almost short-circuiting on hope. Who needed a flying saucer? Like Dorothy of Oz, she had only to click her heels three times to find her way back to Auntie Em.
    Without a moment’s pause, she flung open the door of Mother Mucca’s room, completely unintimidated by the old woman’s crabbiness.
    The madam was brushing her hair. “Can’t you knock?”
    “Mother Mucca … Oh, I’m sorry, but I …” She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. “There’s something I …”
    A look of concern furrowed the old woman’s brow. “Are you O.K., Judy?”
    “No. Not Judy. Mona.”
    “Don’t you call me that, dolly.”
    “I’m not , Mother Mucca. I’m saying my name’s not Judy. It’s Mona. Mona Ramsey … the same as yours.”
    Mother Mucca glared at her briefly, then turned her gaze back to the mirror and resumed brushing. “I told you about that angel dust, dolly.”
    “Mother Mucca, I haven’t—”
    “If I catch you smokin’ in the house, you’re out on your ass, Judy!”
    Mona regained her composure and tried to reason with her. “Look, I know you can’t believe it. I can hardly believe it myself. It’s like a … well, it’s like a miracle, Mother Mucca. Some invisible cosmic force brought us together because we need each other, because we—”
    “Look, dolly, if ya don’t mind—”
    “I’ll get my bag! I’ll show you my … well, I can’t show you any ID’s, come to think of it. I promise you that’s my name. I told you my name was Judy because I … I was a little embarrassed about working here and all … Please, just answer one question for me.”
    “Go on … git!”
    “Not until you answer this.”
    “I said —”
    “What was your little boy’s name?”
    “What the hell do you think you’re …?”
    “What was his name?”
    Mother Mucca