Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

that might be construed as an extra ear. She could already imagine the music she would use to score it. Something soaring and ethereal, yet basically humanistic. Possibly something from a Spielberg movie.
On the other hand, maybe the story was no longer hers. She turned to Father Paddy. “Will you be doing this for Honest to God?”
The cleric made a face. “What?”
“Well, Kenan sounded so pissed I thought maybe he had given you …”
“No, no, no. I’m just a consultant tonight. The story’s all yours.”
“Oh … well, in that case, maybe I should interview you about it. Just to get an official position from the church.”
“Darling.” Father Paddy lowered his voice and cast his eyes from left to right. “The church has no official position on this tortilla.”
“What would we have to do to get one?”
The cleric chuckled. “Call the archbishop at home. Would you want to do it?”
“You don’t have to declare it an official miracle or anything. Couldn’t you just say something like …” She paused, trying to imagine what it would be.
“Like what?” said the priest. “ ‘My, what a pretty tortilla. Such a good likeness, too!’ Come now. The archbishop has a tough enough time with the Shroud of Turin. The very least we can do is spare him the Tortilla of Daly City.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You called him for that statue story last December. I remember.”
“What statue story?”
“You know … the bleeding one. In Ukiah or somewhere.”
The cleric nodded slowly. “Yes … that’s true.”
“So what’s the difference?”
Father Paddy sighed patiently. “The difference, darling girl, is that the statue was actually doing something. It was bleeding. That tortilla, for all its parochial charm, is simply lying there … or hanging there, as the case may be.”
She gave up. “All right. Forget it. I’ll wing it.”
He ducked his eyes. “You’re cross with me now, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes you are.”
“Well … you were the one who called it a miracle.”
“And for all I know, it is, darling.” He chucked her under the chin. “I just don’t think it’s news.”
She had come to the same conclusion when she dragged home at 10 P.M . and found Brian sulking in the little house on the roof. “I couldn’t help it,” she said ineffectually. “I know you’re pissed, but these things come up.”
“Tell me,” he mumbled.
“We can still drive up there tomorrow.”
“No, we can’t. I canceled our reservations. We were damn lucky to even get a room. I had no way of knowing if you’d pull this again.”
“So you thought you’d punish me. That’s just great.”
He turned and looked at her. “I’m punishing you, huh?”
Determined to salvage something, she sat down next to him on the sofa. “I’ve got an alternative plan, if you’re really interested in hearing it.”
“What?”
“Well, we could check into one of those tawdry little motor courts at the end of Lombard Street … we’ve talked about that before. And we could be there in fifteen minutes.” She ran her forefinger lightly down his spine. “Wouldn’t that work just as well?”
He made a grunting noise.
“And don’t say it’s a dumb idea, because you were the one who came up with it. Right after we saw Body Heat. Remember?”
He shook his head slowly, hands dangling between his knees.
“Besides,” she added, “it strikes me that some sleazy neon would do wonders for both of us. Not to mention the Magic Fingers … and one of those Korean oil paintings of Paris in the rain. We can mess up both beds if we want to. and …”
“Jesus!”
The explosion really frightened her. “What on earth …?” “Is that the way you want it to be?”
“Well, it was only a …”
“Maybe I got it all wrong,” he said. “I thought we were talking about bringing another life into the world! I thought we were talking about our kid!”
“We were,” she replied numbly, “in part.”
“So why the hell are you trying to make something cheap out of it?”
Her reserve flew out the window. “Oh my yes! Heaven forbid that Mommy should gel a little fun out of the procedure. We’re talking holy, holy, holy here. Tell you what, Brian … why don’t you run out and gather some rose petals … and we can sprinkle them on our goddamn bed of connubial bliss, just so the little bugger knows we’re good and ready for him … or her … or whatever the hell we’re manufacturing tonight.”
He stared at her as