Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

know. I’ve noticed.”
    “No. You don’t know how bad I was about it.”
    “It doesn’t matter.” He paused, massaging his brow with his fingertips. “I just hope my parents can hack it.”
    “You’ve told them.”
    “No, but I think I’m going to.”
    “Mouse … do you think they’re ready?”
    “No. They’ll never be ready. They’re past changing now. They just get more the same.”
    “Then why?”
    “I love them, Mary Ann. They don’t even know who I am.”
    “Yes they do. They know that you’re kind and gentle and … funny. They know that you love them. Why is it necessary for you to …?”
    “They know a twelve-year-old.”
    “Mouse … lots of men never marry. Your parents are three thousand miles away. Why shouldn’t they just keep assuming that you’re …” She sought for a word, making a little circle with her hand.
    “An Eccentric Old Bachelor,” smiled Michael. “That’s what they used to call them in Orlando. My Uncle Roger was an Eccentric Old Bachelor. He taught English and raised day lilies, and we never saw much of him, except at weddings and funerals. My cousins and I liked him because he could make puppets out of knotted handkerchiefs. Most of the time, though, he kept to himself, because he knew what the rules were: Shut up about it, if you want us to love you. Don’t make us think about the disgusting thing you are.
    “He did what they said, too. I don’t know … maybe he’d never heard about the queers in New Orleans and San Francisco. Maybe he didn’t even know what queer was. Maybe he thought he was the only one … or maybe he just loved living in Orlando. At any rate, he stayed, and when he died—I was a junior in high school—they gave him a decent eunuch’s funeral. Mary Ann … I had never seen him touch another human being. Not one.”
    Michael hesitated, then shook his head. “I hope to God he got laid.”
    Mary Ann reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Things have changed, Mouse. The world has grown up a lot.”
    “Has it?” He handed her the third section of the Chronicle and pointed to Charles McCabe’s column. “This enlightened liberal says there’s gonna be a big backlash against homosexuals, because the decent folks out there are sick and tired of the ‘abnormal.’ ”
    “Maybe he—”
    “I’ve got news for him. Guess who else is sick of it? Guess who else has tried like hell not to be abnormal, by joking and apologizing and camping our way through a hell of a lot of crap?
    “ Abnormal? Anita Bryant would be a nonentity today if she hadn’t put on a bathing suit and strutted her stuff in that cattle call in Atlantic City. If you know how that differs from a jockey shorts dance contest, I wish the hell you’d tell me.”
    His voice had grown strident. Mary Ann glanced nervously at the other passengers, then said in a placating tone: “Mouse, it’s not me you have to convince.”
    He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I sound like Carry Nation, don’t I?”
    They slept for the rest of the flight. Michael woke during the descent into San Francisco, feeling the comforting hand of the city on his shoulder again.
    “Well,” quipped Mary Ann as the trio deplaned, “it’s all over but the Hare Krishna in the airport.”
    Michael winked at Burke. “No sweat. If they try to sell us a rose, we’ve got the perfect secret weapon.”
    The pilot emerged from the cockpit. As Michael disembarked, the ancient, unwritten but unmistakable eye signal passed between the two men.
    “Welcome home,” said the pilot.
    “Really!” said Michael.
    Mary Ann ribbed him in the terminal. “I saw that, you know.”
    “You’re right about one thing,” grinned Michael. “They don’t make Eccentric Old Bachelors like they used to.”

Reunion on Barbary Lane
    T ONIGHT, BECAUSE IT WAS A SPECIAL OCCASION, MRS. Madrigal had piled her hair into a Gibson Girl do and adorned it with a large silk iris.
    Thank God it wasn’t a rose, thought Mary Ann instantly, watching the landlady turn almost coquettish in the company of her newest tenant.
    “Well, Burke, I asked Mary Ann to pick up something nice for me in Mexico, but I didn’t expect it to be this nice.” She appraised the young man long enough to see his embarrassment, then shifted her focus to Michael. “What about you, child? Didn’t you bring me anything?”
    Mary Ann giggled. “He’s arriving on Friday.” Michael shot her a reproving glance, so she covered