Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

then.”
Mrs. Madrigal slapped her knees jauntily. “Does that about wrap it up?”
“More or less.”
“Good. I’ll take care of it.”
He blinked at her, uncomprehending.
“He’ll get your message, dear. I talk to him at least twice a week.” She patted the bench again. “Right here.” She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Go to London, Michael. You’re not going to lose him this time. He’s a part of you forever.”
He clung to her, tears streaming down his face.
“Listen to me, child.” Now she was whispering directly into his ear. “I want you to run along the Thames in the moonlight … take off all your clothes and jump into the fountain at Trafalgar Square. I want you to … have a wild affair with a guard at Buckingham Palace.”
He laughed, still holding tight to her.
“Will you take the old lady’s money?” she asked.
All he could manage was a nod.
“Good. Good. Now run upstairs and tell Mary Ann to make all the arrangements.”
He had reached the front door when she shouted her final instruction: “The toolbox keys are on a hook in the basement.”
    This Terrific Idea
O N THE EVE OF MICHAEL’S DEPARTURE, MARY ANN found herself on a vigil at the San Francisco Zoo, awaiting the birth of a polar bear. She and her crew had camped out for seven hours beside the concrete iceberg which Blubber, the expectant mother, was compelled to call home. As the eighth hour approached, so did a smiling Connie Bradshaw, hunched over from her own pregnancy like some noble beast of burden.
“Hi! They told me at the station I could find you here.”
This was just what she needed. The Ghost of Cleveland Past. “Yeah,” she said dully. “If it keeps up like this, it may be a permanent assignment.”
Connie peered through the bars at Blubber’s lair. “Where is she?”
“Back there.” She pointed. “In her den. She’s not real fond of the cameras.”
“I guess not, poor thing. Who would be?”
Mary Ann shrugged. “Those women on the PBS specials seem to love it.”
“Yuck.” Connie mugged. “Screaming and yelling and sweating … then waving at the baby with that dippy expression on their face. Only people are that dumb.”
“I’m sure Blubber agrees with you, but she hasn’t got much of a choice. There are hearts to be warmed out there in the naked city.”
Connie gazed wistfully at the iceberg, then turned back to Mary Ann, “Can you take a break and have a Diet Coke with me?”
Mary Ann hesitated.
“It won’t take long,” added Connie. “O.K.?”
“Sure,” she replied, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Just for a little while, though. Blubber’s looking close.”
She told her cameraman where she would be, then joined Connie under a Cinzano umbrella near the snack bar. Her old high school chum had rearranged her face into a mask of sisterly concern. “I’ll get right to the point, hon. Have you broken the news to Brian yet?”
Mary Ann was beginning to feel badgered. “No,” she said flatly. “I haven’t.”
“Super.” Connie beamed. “So far so good.”
Mary Ann clenched her teeth. What the hell was so far so good about that?
“I’ve been really thinking about this,” Connie added, “and I’ve got this terrific idea.”
Ever since the time she had taken Mary Ann to singles night at the Marina Safeway, Connie and her terrific ideas had been nothing but trouble. “I don’t know,” said Mary Ann. “If it’s about getting pregnant, I’d just as soon …”
“Don’t you even wanna hear it?” Connie was crushed.
“Well … I appreciate your concern …”
“Hear me out, O.K.? Then I’ll shut up. It’s not as weird as you might think.”
Mary Ann doubted that, but she murmured a reluctant O.K. and fortified herself with a sip of Diet Coke.
Connie seemed enormously relieved. “Remember my little brother Wally?”
Why was it that people from home always expected you to recall minutiae from fifteen years ago, things that weren’t even that important at the time? “ ’Fraid not,” she said.
“Yes you do.”
“Connie … Cleveland was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but Wally used to deliver your paper. He delivered most of the papers on that side of Ridgemont.”
The light dawned, however dim. A dorky kid with Dumbo ears and a bad habit of mangling the petunias with his Schwinn. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure. Of course.”
“Well, Wally’s at UC med school now.”
Mary Ann whistled. “Jesus.”
“I know,” Connie agreed. “Does that