Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

SEBASTIAN’S WITH MICHAEL’S MAIL in hand: a postcard from a friend on Maui, a newsletter from his congressman and a notice from the Reader’s Digest Sweepstakes informing him happily that he might already be a winner.
    Michael was asleep, so the doctor sat quietly in a chair by the window.
    Five minutes later, the night nurse entered.
    “Just get here?”
    “Yeah.”
    The nurse nodded toward her patient. “He’s a nice boy.”
    Jon nodded.
    “Him and you are … good friends, aren’t you?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “He talks about you a lot.”
    “I know.”
    “Him and me spent a long time talking today. We’re both from Florida, ya know. I’m from Clearwater. I mean, my folks used to live there when I was a teenager, and I met my husband there and all, but then we moved to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, when he joined the Army.”
    “I see.”
    “I don’t mind admittin’ one bit: we’re both real conservative, Dr. Fielding. We voted for Goldwater in ‘64 and Earl always says that socialism is gonna ruin this country, and I guess I agree with him. I don’t think that’s reactionary, no matter what people say. I was raised to believe in the Constitution and the Bible and Free Enterprise, and I guess I always will.”
    The nurse moved closer to Michael’s bed. Jon felt vaguely uneasy. What was she getting at?
    “Sometimes,” she continued, “I think things are just moving too fast. The world is goin’ crazy, and people don’t have … they just don’t have standards of decency. You can’t depend on things the way you used to. Families and marriages are falling apart, and the liberals are just destroying everything that ever mattered to folks.”
    Now she was standing by the head of the bed. She looked down at Michael for a moment. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes.
    “I know all that’s true. I know it, Dr. Fielding. There’s lots of things I’d change about this world, but … I don’t …” She wiped her eyes, then looked down at Michael again. “I’d be proud … I’d be proud for this boy to teach my children. I swear to God I would!”
    Jon blocked his emotions with a smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
    The nurse turned away, blowing her nose. She busied herself with straightening Michael’s covers, avoiding Jon’s eyes. She didn’t confront him again until she was ready to leave.
    “Doctor, I hope you didn’t … take offense?”
    “No. Of course not. That was a very nice thing to say.”
    “Aren’t you mighty tired?”
    “A little.”
    “Why don’t you go home. I’ll look after him.”
    “I know. I’ll go soon.”
    “Doctor?”
    “Yes?”
    “When this is over … when he’s better … I’d be glad to have you … I mean, the two of you … over for dinner sometime. I make good red beans and rice.” She smiled, nodding toward Michael. “He says he likes that.”
    “Thank you. We’d be happy to.”
    “Earl’s real nice. You’ll like him.”
    “I’m sure. Thank you.”
    “Good night, Doctor.”
    “Good night. God bless you.”
    He sat there for another hour, finally dozing off in the chair. An insistent voice awakened him.
    “Pssst, turkey.”
    “Wha …? Michael?”
    “No. Marie Antoinette.”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Come here.”
    Jon went to his bedside. “Yeah?”
    “Look.”
    “At what?”
    “Down there, dummy. My hand.”
    Jon saw Michael’s index finger moving ever so slightly. “Don’t just stand there,” grinned Michael. “Clap your hands if you believe in fairies!”

The Shop at St. Sebastian’s
    A SUDDEN HINT OF SPRING IN THE AIR CAUGHT MRS. Madrigal off guard as she swept the courtyard at 28 Barbary Lane.
    Spring again on the lane! Vagrant daffodils loitering among the garbage cans, the smell of cat fur and lilacs and sun-warmed eucalyptus bark … and dear sweet Brian sunning himself on the bricks.
    For the first time in weeks, her family seemed intact again. Michael was greatly improved, according to Jon, and would be coming home in a matter of days. Mary Ann and Burke were nesting comfortably in their respective apartments, though they appeared to need only one.
    Brian, of course, was still in the little house on the roof.
    And Mona—her own precious daughter—had moved in permanently downstairs as soon as Mother Mucca had returned to Winnemucca.
    It was springtime, and all was well.
    Except for … something about Mona’s behavior that disturbed her.
    “Brian, dear?”
    He arched his