Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

head.
    “That I’d be paralyzed.”
    “Michael, for Christ’s sake!”
    “Not like this. Just from the waist down. That way, I could be in a wheelchair, and people would like me, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what they’d say when I didn’t get married. It seemed like a pretty good solution at the time. I was a dumb little kid.”
    “You’re also a maudlin grownup. You can’t dwell on this stuff, Michael. It’s not healthy for you to … Hey, I almost forgot. Chorus Line is coming back. I sent for our tickets today.”
    “Nice fake.”
    “Goddammit, Michael! Will you stop being so … melodramatic! I hate to disappoint you, but you’re not gonna …”
    “The word is die, Babycakes.”
    “You’re not, Michael. I’m a doctor. I know.”
    “You’re a gynecologist, turkey.”
    “You like playing this scene, don’t you? You’re getting off on this whole goddamn Camille—”
    “Hey, hey,” Michael’s voice was gentle, consoling. The flippancy was gone. “Don’t take me seriously, Jon. I’ve just gotta talk, that’s all. Don’t listen to what I’m saying. O.K.?”
    “You got a deal.”
    “You know what? They’ve got me on The Pill. I mean, they call it steroids or something, but it’s still The Pill. I’ve been tripping on that all morning. I’m on The Pill, and my gynecologist spends more time with me than my doctor does. Isn’t that a hoot?”
    Jon smiled. “That’s pretty good, all right.”
    “Maybe there’s a lot to be said for all this. I mean, for one thing, I can go for hours at a time without looking nellie. If they could prop me up or something, I’d be dynamite in a dark corner at The Bolt!”
    Mary Ann arrived half an hour later. Michael winked at her in the mirror.
    “Hi, gorgeous. Where’d ya get that Acapulco tan?”
    “Hi, Mouse. Burke’s here too.”
    “I see. Hello, Hunky.”
    “Hi, Michael.”
    “The coast is clear, kiddo. Not a rose in sight.”
    The couple laughed nervously. “Mouse,” said Mary Ann, “I picked up your mail for you. Do you … want me to read it to you?”
    “What is it? A pink slip from the Clap Clinic?”
    Mary Ann giggled. “I think it’s from your parents.”
    Michael said nothing. Jon cast a warning glance at Mary Ann, who instantly tried to backtrack. “I can leave it, Mouse … and maybe later Jon can—”
    “No. Go ahead.”
    Mary Ann looked at Jon, then back to Michael. “Are you sure?”
    “What the hell.”
    So she opened the letter.

Saving the Children
    M ARY ANN BEGAN TO READ:
    Dear Mikey,
    How are you? I guess you’re back from Mexico by now. Please write us. Your Papa and I are real anxious to hear all about it. Also, how is Mary Ann and when will we get a chance to meet her?
    Everything is fine in Orlando. It looks like we’ll do fine with this year’s crop, even with the frost and all. The homosexual boycott may make orange juice sales drop off a little, but Papa says it won’t make any difference in the long run, and besides it won’t …
    Mary Ann looked up. “Mouse … I think we should save this for some other time.”
    “No. It’s O.K. Go on.”
    Mary Ann looked at Jon, who shrugged.
    “I’ve handled it for half my life,” said Michael. “Another day won’t make a difference.”
    So Mary Ann continued:
    … besides it won’t do anything but show Jesus whose side we’re on.
    You remember in my last letter I said we didn’t say anything in our resolution about renting to homosexuals, because Lucy McNeil rents her garage to that sissy man who sells carpets at Dixie Dell Mall? I thought that was O.K., because Lucy is a quiet sort who has stomach trouble, and I didn’t think it would be Christian to upset her unduly.
    I guess the man was right when he said the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, because Lucy has all of a sudden become real militant about the homosexuals. She said she wouldn’t sign our Save Our Children resolution, and she called us all heathens and hypocrites and said that Jesus wouldn’t even let us kiss His feet if He came back to earth today. Can you imagine such a thing?
    I was real upset about it after the meeting until your Papa cleared it up for me. You know, I never thought about it much, but Lucy never did marry, and she was really pretty when her and me used to go to Orlando High. She could of gotten a real good husband, if she had set her mind to it. Anyway, your Papa pointed out that Lucy takes modern art classes at the YWCA now and wears