Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

their weight surprised him, causing him to stagger a little. His clumsiness embarrassed him. He was grateful for the cover of darkness.
    When he reached the top of the stairs, he was out of breath. Holding the door for him, Wren said: “Dirty trick, huh? Didn’t know you’d have to work.”
    “No problem,” he said, making his way to the fireplace.
    “They’re so gunky,” she said, following him. “I hate getting them, but I adore having a fire.”
    He dumped the logs on the big stone hearth. “They’re awfully green.”
    “They do O.K.,” she said, “once it gets hot enough.” She picked up several of the smaller logs and tossed them onto the flames. “Now,” she said, brushing off her hands. “A drink, a joint … what?”
    “I’m fine,” he said.
    “Sure?”
    “Yeah.”
    She gestured toward an armchair. “Sit down.”
    He did so, as she curled up on the sofa. She was wearing a pink blouse and white shorts. Her big friendly knees were as pale and round as a couple of honeydew melons. She cocked her head and smiled at him. “I saw your wife on Entertainment Tonight.”
    “Oh … yeah.”
    “Did you watch it?”
    “No.”
    “She was all right.”
    “So I heard. My landlady told me. My ex-landlady.”
    “Did you watch her show the morning I was on?”
    No, he thought perversely, but I jerked off to the book. “Actually, I didn’t,” he said.
    “She didn’t like me,” said Wren.
    He nodded. “Sometimes she does that. Just to get a rise out of people.”
    Wren snorted. “She got one.”
    He smiled at her. “Good.”
    She studied him for a while, then rose and plucked a joint from a box on the mantelpiece. She lit it with a kitchen match and returned to the sofa, where she took a toke and held it, observing him again.
    “If this is tacky,” she said, “tell me.”
    He shrugged. “Go ahead.”
    “Do you usually take vacations without your wife?”
    He laughed uneasily. “You mean with gay guys?”
    “No,” she said. “I mean without your wife.”
    He felt his head jerk reflexively. “I think we both … needed a little breather.”
    “I know just what you mean,” she replied.
    “You’re married?”
    “No, but I have a lover.”
    “Well,” he said. “I guess he couldn’t exactly go on a book tour with you….”
    “The tour was over last week.”
    “Oh.”
    “I needed time alone.” She smiled mysteriously. “Well, mostly alone.”
    There was her “friend” again.
    “But now,” she added, “I really miss Rolando.” She took a puff on the joint and held it for a while. “I even miss his snoring.”
    He chuckled. “You do miss him.”
    “Are you a snorer?”
    “Mary Ann,” he said. “She’s the worst.”
    “She snores? I love it.”
    “She’d kill me if she knew I told you.”
    Wren made a zipping motion across her lips. “And you don’t blab to Rolando.”
    “What could I tell him?”
    “Well … he thinks I’m still on tour, for starters.”
    “A-ha.” He felt much more at ease now that their conversation involved four people instead of three.
    “He’ll be all right,” she said. “Once I’m home.”
    He looked at her for a moment, then said: “I wish I could say the same thing.”
    “She’s … uh … on your case?”
    He shook his head. “It isn’t her.”
    “Oh,” she said.
    “I was seeing this girl. Nothing romantic. Just … friends who had sex from time to time.”
    She smiled sleepily. “I can relate to that.”
    “She has AIDS,” he said.
    Wren blinked at him.
    “I saw her last week. She looked like someone else.”
    “Christ.” She put the joint down.
    “I took the test, but the results won’t be back for another week.”
    “And your wife …?”
    “Doesn’t know. I couldn’t tell her until …” He made a lame gesture, unable to finish.
    She jumped into the breach. “You’re O.K., though. You look just fine.”
    He shrugged. “My stomach kinda burns. My energy is gone.”
    “That could be lots of things.”
    “That’s what the doctor said.”
    “Well, there you go.”
    An awkward silence followed. Then she asked: “Are you scared?”
    He nodded.
    “Don’t be,” she said.
    He shrugged again, afraid of crying.
    “You’re too nice a guy to be hurting.”
    He couldn’t look at her. “Does a nice guy do this to his wife?”
    “Hey,” she said gently.
    “If I’ve … passed it on …”
    “You haven’t. You don’t know that.”
    “If I have, I deserve it.”
    “Stop that. Shut up. You