Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

went slack. Huge beads of sweat erupted like blisters along his hairline. He turned and looked at her. “It wasn’t a foot,” he said pathetically. “It was an arm.”
    “Burke, for God’s …!”
    “It was, Mary Ann. When I was here before … it was an arm.”
    “You were …? Burke, you remember?”
    “They wanted me to … They told me I had to …”
    “Who, Burke?”
    “Them. Him .”
    “The man with the transplant?”
    Burke nodded.
    “What did he want you to do?”
    Silence.
    “Burke?”
    “We have to get out of here.”
    “Wait, Burke. What did they want you to do ?”
    Now Burke was moving down the catwalk, away from the cooler, back to the spiral staircase. Reaching out to take Mary Ann’s hand, he quickened his pace until they were almost running.
    “Burke, what if the man with the transplant …?”
    “What time is it?” He pulled her wrist into view and looked at her watch. “Christ! We have three minutes!”
    “For what?”
    “They’ll be here in three minutes! The mass starts in three minutes!”
    They were back at the door now, plunging once more into darkness. Burke led the way down the staircase, holding tight to Mary Ann’s hand. When they reached the room with the prayerbooks, he lunged at the button by the elevator, then leaped back as if it had shocked him.
    “Shit!”
    “What’s the matter?” whispered Mary Ann.
    “Listen … the elevator! They’re coming up!”
    “Dear God.”
    Burke looked about him frantically, pulled Mary Ann into the darkest corner of the room, behind the towering pillar of prayerbooks. They were crouching in the shadows when the elevator door clattered open.
    There seemed to be five or six of them, at least two of whom were women. Their voices were jovial and matter-of-fact until the man with the transplant began the incantation that Mary Ann now knew by heart.
High upon the Sacred Rock
The Rose Incarnate shines,
Upon the Mountain of the Flood
At the Meeting of the Lines.
    The coppery taste of her own vomit made Mary Ann nauseous again. She tried to think of daisy-strewn fields, of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, but the image of that grisly purple foot flashed in her brain like a strobe light.
    Instinctively, Burke reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. In doing so, he grazed the pillar of prayerbooks, causing it to wobble menacingly. Mary Ann sucked in her breath and did her best to steady the trembling monolith.
    They waited for an eternity.
    Finally, the faceless celebrants began to ascend the staircase to the catwalk. When their footsteps had died out, Burke dashed to the elevator and leaned on the button.
    The door opened immediately.
    “Where’s the key?” asked Burke.
    Mary Ann clutched at her neck. “I must’ve left it—”
    “Christ!”
    “Check the floor, Burke! Maybe it—”
    “Hold it! We might not need it!” He pushed the button for the first floor. The elevator made an eerie sighing noise and the door rumbled shut again. They began their descent.
    When they were back on the main floor of the cathedral, a growl from the great organ signaled the start of the mass. Never stopping to look back, they fled through the mammoth doors and ran all the way to Huntington Park.
    Now they were huddled together on a bench, catching their breath.
    “It’s come back, hasn’t it?”
    “Yeah.”
    “All of it?”
    “Most of it.”
    “Why are you crying?”
    “I’m … relieved, that’s all.”
    “Did you know those people?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Should we talk about it now?”
    “I guess. That is, if you don’t mind.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    “That foot, Mary Ann … Those people.”
    “Uh huh?”
    “They’re eating it. They’re up there now eating it.”

Walking Alone
    O NE WEEK LATER .
    Leaning on Jon, Michael took faltering steps to the bathroom.
    “Look at you!” Jon beamed. “You’re fabulous!”
    “I am, aren’t I?”
    “I think you can do it on your own.”
    “Oh, no.”
    “C’mon, turkey. Try.”
    “Don’t be so goddamn B-movie! I’m not ready yet!”
    “I’m gonna let go.”
    “You do and I’ll tell your father you sleep with boys!”
    “Get ready!”
    “Jon!”
    “You’ve been copping feels long enough. You’re on your own now.”
    The doctor slipped out from under Michael’s arm and withdrew several feet. Michael’s arm flailed as he fought to maintain his balance. His knees were jelly, but he managed to remain in a static, upright position.
    “Now,