Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

something.”
    “Yeah, but it sure would be nice if something did.”
    “What about that transub … whatchamacallit?”
    “What about it?”
    “Well, for starters, is Burke Catholic?”
    Mary Ann shook her head. “Episcopalian.”
    “That’s close.”
    “It is?”
    Michael nodded. “The High Church ones are more Catholic than the Catholics. Believe me, I know. I used to have a boyfriend who was a High Church Episcopal seminarian. He practically shaved in holy water. I’m sure he believed that the bread and wine turn into the body and blood of Christ.”
    Mary Ann shuddered a little. “Is that what they believe? Literally?”
    “Literally. You saw the definition, Babycakes.”
    “I know, but that’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?”
    Michael shrugged. “Christians are the only people on earth who kneel before an instrument of torture. If Christ had been martyred in this century, I guess we’d all be wearing little electric chairs around our necks.”
    Mary Ann was shocked. “Mouse, that’s sacrilegious!”
    “No it’s not. It’s just an observation about the nature of—” Suddenly, Michael’s hands clamped onto the arms of his wheelchair, his face screwed into an expression of intense concentration. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted. “Jesus Christ!”
    “Mouse, for heaven’s sake, what’s the matter?”
    “The Sacred Rock! The goddamn Sacred Rock! It’s Grace Cathedral, it’s gotta be Grace Cathedral!”
    “Grace Cathedral?”
    “What else? Right next door to the PU Club, Mary Ann! On the Mountain of the Flood at the Meeting of the Lines! And guess what the Rose Incarnate is?”
    “What?”
    “The biggest rose in the whole friggin’ city! The rose window at Grace Cathedral!”

Labor of Love
    D ’OROTHEA WILSON PAUSED BRIEFLY IN THE LOBBY OF St. Sebastian’s Hospital to study an antique portrait of the institution’s namesake.
    The holy man was tied to a tree, wearing only a loincloth and a beatific smile. His bloodied body was prickly with arrows. Half a dozen of them, at least.
    D’orothea made a face that attracted the attention of a passing nurse. “I know,” winced the nurse. “Isn’t it awful?”
    “Why do they even hang it? In a hospital, for God’s sake!”
    The nurse smiled wearily. “The board fights over it every year. I think it came with a big endowment or something. Nobody wants to offend the old bat who donated it. They’ve moved it two or three times. This is the least conspicuous it’s ever been.”
    “Someone should come in here some night with a can of spray paint,” suggested D’orothea.
    “Right on!” said the nurse.
    After checking at the desk on the location of DeDe’s room, D’orothea made a quick stop at the hospital florist, where she picked up a dozen roses. Then she hurried to the second floor to see her friend.
    “You can’t stay long,” grinned DeDe. “They just chased my mother out.”
    “I won’t.” D’orothea set the roses on the bedside table, then leaned over and kissed DeDe on the cheek. “You look fabulous, hon.”
    “Thanks. And thanks for the roses.”
    “How’s the tum-tum?”
    DeDe rolled her eyes. “Thumpety-thump. Thumpety-thump.”
    “You mean …?”
    “The pains are fifteen minutes apart.”
    “Holy shit! When you called, you sounded so casual about it. I thought … Oh, hon, aren’t you excited?”
    DeDe smiled thinly. “Sure.”
    “Course you are! Hey, you haven’t even told me about names.”
    “Names?”
    “For the babies. You picked ‘em yet?”
    DeDe smoothed the bedsheet over her mountainous belly. “Oh, Edgar, I guess, if one is a boy. After my father. And if one is a girl, I’ll name her Anna.”
    “That’s pretty. Any particular reason?”
    “Daddy asked me to. Just before he died.”
    “A family name, huh?”
    DeDe shook her head. “Not that I know of. Daddy just said he liked the name.” She fidgeted with the sheet again, looking away. It took D’orothea a moment to realize that she was crying.
    “Hon? Hey, hon. What’s the trouble?”
    “I’m so frightened, D’or.”
    D’orothea sat on the edge of the bed and stroked DeDe’s hair gently. “Why?” she asked.
    “I feel like I’m going to be punished or something.”
    “Punished? What for?”
    DeDe’s face was shiny with tears. She reached for a Kleenex, blew her nose, then dropped the tissue on the bedside table. Finally, she looked up at D’orothea and sighed. “The twins are gonna be Chinese,