Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

him a question? What lime was it, anyway?
“You’re grinding your teeth,” she said. She was on the sofa across from him, her feet tucked under the heart-shaped ass. “I think it’s sack time.”
“Yeah.”
“Want some papaya juice?”
“Great.”
She rose. “I’ll get us a ‘lude too.”
“That’s O.K.”
“It’ll bring us down.”
He shook his head. “I don’t do ‘ludes anymore.”
“Well … a joint, then.”
Three minutes later, she returned with a glass of juice and a joint that was already lit. She held it for him as he toked, pressing her fingers against his lips. “I like the feel of your mouth,” she said.
“Thanks,” he replied.
Her laughter seemed brittle. “You can do better than that.”
“Sorry. I’m kinda zonked.”
“The joint’ll fix you right up.”
He would have to be more explicit. “Hey … I hate to be a party pooper, but I am really tired. It’s been great, really. If you’ll show me which bedroom is mine, I’ll …”
“Jesus Christ.” She flung the joint into an ashtray. “What the hell have we been doing all night?”
She had jarred him. “Uh … rapping, I thought.”
“Rapping? How quaint!”
“Look, Terry … I’m sorry, O.K.?”
“Don’t be.”
“You knew I was married,” he said.
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re not going to tell me that’s the reason?”
“Well … partially.”
“So what’s the other part?”
“Well … that’s the main reason, more or less.”
“This is un-fucking-believable.”
“Also … I’m not real terrific after a lot of coke. That’s another reason.”
“That’s not a reason. I’ve told you I have ‘ludes.”
He rose on wobbly legs. “This has been a real experience, believe me.”
“Swell.”
“If you’d told me last month that I’d spend Easter doing coke with the wife of the man who …”
“Shut up about him.”
“I didn’t mean that you aren’t …”
“I know what you meant, Brian. I know who you came here for.” She retrieved the roach and relit it with trembling hands. “You should’ve fucked him when he was still alive. He might have appreciated it.”
She smiled at him with surprising tenderness, then handed him the roach. “I think you should go home,” she said.
    Nanny Knows Best
T HEY FORMED A BIG T AGAINST THE RUMPLED FLANNEL sheets, Simon from side to side, she with her head against his trampoline-tight stomach.
“I’m curious about something,” she said.
“Mmm.”
“Why did you get a vasectomy?”
“Oh … well, actually, my nanny talked me into it.”
“C’mon.”
“It’s quite true. She gave me a stern little lecture. She said I was a confirmed bachelor and flagrantly irresponsible and it was the only decent thing to do. It was a remarkable speech.”
“Was she right?”
“About what? Flagrantly irresponsible?”
“No. Confirmed bachelor.”
He hesitated. “More or less, I suppose. Marriage is rough on a true romantic.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe,” she said.
“A certain spontaneity is lost, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
She rolled over on her stomach and kissed his navel. “Because I like you very much. And I like doing this without babies on the brain.”
“You’re not sorry, are you?”
“No.”
“It hasn’t utterly devastated your marriage?” She gave him a little pinch, smiling.
“Just asking,” he said.
“Brian isn’t everything to me, but … he’s the only constant.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“It would take a long time for me to fall out of love with him. It took long enough to love him. He’s sort of like … a maze I wandered into.”
“You’re brighter than he is,” he said.
“I know. I don’t care. He gives me other things.” She shifted slightly, kissing him again. “You’ve given me something too.”
“What?”
“Oh … a fresh perspective.”
“On your husband.” He said it without rancor.
“Not just that.”
“Then … I’m glad.”
“I’ll think about you,” she said.
“I’ll think about you,” he replied. “Should we be watching the clock?”
“Huh?”
“Brian.”
“Oh … he’s not coming back till afternoon.”
He chuckled. “I should have known you’d know that.”
    Red-handed
T HE CLOCK IN THE LE CAR SAID EIGHT TWENTY-THREE when Brian parked on Leavenworth and began the trek up the Barbary Lane stairway. There were birds twittering in the eucalyptus trees, and the neighborhood tabby