Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

Quonset hut squatting in an alleyway on the edge of the Tenderloin. People who wouldn’t be caught dead amidst the Bali Hai camp of the Tonga Room on Nob Hill would murder their grandmothers for the privilege of basking in the same decor at Trader Vic’s.
The maître d’ seemed particularly formidable tonight, but she placated him with the magic words—“Mrs. Halcyon is expecting me”—and made her way to the banquettes near the bar, the holy of holies they called the Captain’s Cabin. DeDe caught her eye with a sly Elizabethan wave.
Striding to the table, Mary Ann slipped into the chair they had saved for her. “I hope you went ahead and ordered,” she said.
“Just drinks,” answered DeDe. “Is this a zoo or what?”
Mary Ann looked around at the neighboring tables. “Uh … who exactly is here?”
“Everybody,” shrugged DeDe. “Isn’t that right, Mother?”
Mrs. Halcyon detected the irreverence in her daughter’s voice and chose to ignore it. “I’m delighted you could join us, Mary Ann. You know D’orothea, of course … and the children. Edgar, don’t pick your nose, dear. Cangie has told you that a thousand times.”
The six-year-old’s lip plumped petulantly. His delicate Eurasian features, like those of his twin sister, seemed entirely appropriate in a room full of quasi Orientalia. “Why can’t we go to Chuck E. Cheese?” he asked.
“Because,” his grandmother explained sweetly, “the Queen isn’t eating at Chuck E. Cheese.”
D’orothea rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “It was her first choice, actually, but they wouldn’t take a reservation for a party of sixty.”
Mary Ann let out a giggle, then squelched it when she saw the look on Mrs. Halcyon’s face. “I would think,” said the matriarch, casting oblique daggers at her daughter’s lover, “that a little decorum might be in order for all of us.”
D’orothea’s eyes ducked penitently, but contempt flickered at the corner of her mouth. She realigned a fork, waiting for the moment to pass.
“So,” said Mary Ann, a little too brightly, “what time does she get here?”
“Any minute,” DeDe replied. “They’re putting her in the Trafalgar Room. That’s upstairs and it’s got its own entrance, so I guess they’ll sneak her in the back way and …”
“I have to piss.” Little Anna was tugging at DeDe’s arm.
“Anna, didn’t I tell you to take care of that before we left home?”
“And,” added Mrs. Halcyon, with a look of genuine horror, “little girls don’t use such words.” Anna looked puzzled. “What words?”
“Piss,” said her brother.
“Edgar!” The matriarch gaped at her grandson, then spun around to demand reparation from her daughter. “For heaven’s sake, DeDe … tell them. This isn’t my job.”
“Oh, Mother, this is hardly …”
“Tell them.”
“The French say piss,” D’orothea put in. “What about pissoir?”
“D’or.” DeDe discredited her lover’s contribution with a glacial glance before turning to her children. “Look, guys … I thought we settled on pee.”
“Oh, my God,” groaned the matriarch.
Mary Ann and D’orothea exchanged clandestine grins.
“Mother, if you don’t mind …”
“What happened to tinkle, DeDe? I taught you to say tinkle.”
“She still does,” said D’or.
Another glare from DeDe. Mary Ann looked down at the tablecloth, suddenly afraid that D’or would try to enlist her as a confederate.
“Come along,” said Mrs. Halcyon, rising. “Gangie will take you to the little girls’ room.”
“Me too,” piped Edgar.
“All right … you too.” She took their tiny hands in her chubby, bejeweled ones and toddled off into the rattan-lined darkness.
D’orothea let out a histrionic groan.
“Don’t start,” said DeDe.
“She’s getting worse. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she is actually getting worse.” She turned and addressed her next remarks to Mary Ann, shaking a rigid forefinger in the direction of the restrooms. “That woman lives with her dyke daughter and her dyke daughter-in-law and her two half-Chinese grandchildren by the goddamn delivery boy at Jiffy’s …”
“D’or …”
“… and she still acts like this is the goddamn nineteenth century and she’s … goddamn Queen Victoria. Grab that waiter, Mary Ann. I want another Mai Tai.”
Mary Ann flailed for the waiter, but he wheeled out of sight into the kitchen. When she confronted the couple again, they were looking directly into each