Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

thought you might need some help gettin’ to sleep.”
    “Oh … no, thank you, Emma.”
    The maid set the tray down on the dresser and moved closer to the bed. “You been takin’ them pills again?”
    Silence.
    Emma’s lower lip plumped angrily. “You answer me that, Miss Frannie!”
    The matriarch looked away. “Miss DeDe told me to!”
    “Where is it?”
    “Where’s what?”
    “The bottle. How many you take?”
    “Only three … like aspirin.”
    “That ain’t aspirin, Miss Frannie! You gimme that bottle, hear?”
    The matriarch made a fluttery gesture towards the bedside table. “That was the last of ’em. I’m all right … really. Don’t you worry, dear.” Her pathetic little smile was belied by the tear that rolled down her face.
    Emma blinked at her for several seconds, then sat down on the edge of the bed and took her mistress’ hand. “What’s the matter?” she asked sweetly.
    “Emma … I can’t …”
    “Yes you can. You can talk to Emma ‘bout it. If you don’t know that, you don’t know nothin’.”
    The matriarch’s lips parted in a silent sob. Then she pressed her palms to her face and rocked slowly back and forth, never making a sound. It was only when the maid leaned forward and hugged her that a low animal moan escaped from somewhere deep inside Frannie Halcyon.
    “You go right ahead,” said Emma. “You just go right ahead and cry.”
    So Frannie wept for several minutes, cradled in the old woman’s arms.
    Then she said: “DeDe thinks Jim Jones has got them.”
    Emma pulled away and stared at her mistress. “What you talkin’ ‘bout?”
    “Jim Jones,” repeated Frannie. “From Guyana.”
    “That’s crazy talk, Miss Frannie! Jim Jones is dead!”
    Frannie shook her head lethargically. “Miss DeDe … she thinks … she says he didn’t die … she says …”
    “You hush now. You get some sleep.”
    “No … you should know this, Emma. Somebody else died in Guyana. Mr. Starr … he’s Jim Jones. He …”
    “Shhh.”
    “Those poor little babies! I gave them away to Jim Jones, Emma. I just gave them …”
    “Now you listen to me, Miss Frannie! You saw Mr. Starr, didn’t you? He didn’t look like no Jim Jones, did he? Any fool could recognize Jim Jones in a minute! Jim Jones is dead, Miss Frannie!”
    “No … he had plastic …”
    “Hush, now.”
    “… plastic surgery … he had … Emma …”
    And then the matriarch passed out.
    Twenty minutes later, the phone rang.
    Emma picked it up in the kitchen. “Halcyon Hill.”
    “Oh … is this Edna?”
    “Emma.”
    “This is Ms. Giroux, Emma. It’s urgent that I speak to Mrs. Halcyon.”
    “I’m sorry, Miz Giroux. She’s asleep.”
    “Emma, I must speak …”
    “I’ll give her the message, Miz Giroux. She’s dead to the world.”
    “Emma … please … you must wake her up … immediately! Tell her that the children are at my place and they’re safe …”
    “Praise the Lord!” exclaimed Emma.
    “But she’s got to leave the house immediately. Mr. Starr is heading that way.”
    “Here?”
    “Any minute, Edna! He’s crazy … he’s lost his mind completely. I’m so afraid he’ll … just get out of there, please. Does Mrs. Halcyon have her car there?”
    “Yes’m, but I don’t think …”
    “Tell her not to get dressed or anything. Just leave … get out of that house! Do you understand me, Edna?”
    “Yes’m.”
    She understood only too well.

The Way They Were
    W HEN JON AND MICHAEL RETURNED TO MICHAEL ’ S apartment shortly after ten o’clock, Michael was considerably more relaxed.
    “Frankly,” he said, dropping onto the sofa, “I was surprised you took it so well.”
    “What?” asked Jon, choosing the armchair.
    “You know … Bambi-in-the-basement.”
    The doctor shrugged. “I lived here, remember?”
    Michael smiled. “Nothing’s changed, huh?”
    “Not much. I was prepared for almost anything.”
    “That’s sound thinking.”
    A long silence.
    “So,” said Jon, “the nursery’s working out O.K.?”
    “Great … terrific, in fact.”
    “It’s been … how long?”
    Michael thought for a moment. “Over three years … three years at the same place. God … is it time to call the Guinness Book?”
    The doctor smiled. “I’m glad you like it. That’s important.”
    Michael nodded. “It’s the only way. Doing anything over and over again is boring enough as it is.”
    The doctor regarded him for a moment. “Or any one , huh?”
    “Hey