Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

friend,” said Booter, realizing how curious it sounded to him. He had never told Jimmy as much. Why was he telling her?
    Mabel looked puzzled. “He was traveling with you?”
    “No. We’re members of the same … camp.” He was wary of explaining Bohemia to a woman, even to one who’d befriended him. So far it had brought him nothing but trouble.
    “Here?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    “He died at camp?”
    He nodded. “During a play.”
    Sympathizing, Mabel shook her head dolefully. “Just sittin’ there, huh?”
    “No. He was performing in the play.”
    “What was it about?”
    “Uh … the Red Cross, actually.”
    “I remind you of him?”
    “Well … his spirit.”
    “What was he like?”
    He thought for a moment, discarding any adjectives that might be loaded. “Well … interested in nature. Adventurous.”
    “Wild-ass,” she said.
    “Yeah.” He smiled a little. “That too.”
    “So you got drunk, huh? And you passed out in that canoe.”
    He nodded in resignation.
    “Then your poor ol’ white ass just drifted on down into Lezzieland.”
    What was this woman’s story?
    “You get drunk much?” she asked, plucking a pack of Trues from the dashboard.
    “No,” he said.
    “I do. I like it.” She poked a cigaret into her mouth, then flicked her Bic. Her red-veined face flared up in the darkness. “So,” she asked, holding in smoke, “how did you like them dykes?”
    He looked out the window to compose an answer. “It wasn’t what I felt,” he said at last. “What I felt had nothing to do with anything.”
    She nodded gravely. “I know what you mean.” Holding the cigaret with her thumb and forefinger, she offered it to him.
    “No, thanks,” he said.
    “Did you and your buddy live together?”
    “No,” he replied. “He lived in Denver.”
    “Huh?”
    “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I have a wife.”
    She narrowed her eyes a little, then asked: “Where do you live?”
    “Hillsborough,” he said.
    “If he was your best friend”—smoke curled out of her and hovered overhead like a question mark—“when the hell did you see him?”
    “Here,” he said impatiently. “At the camp.”
    “How often?”
    “Once a year.”
    “For how long?”
    He thought about it. “Four or five days, usually. For twenty-seven years.”
    How many days did that make in all? As many as six months’ worth? No, not even that many.
    Mabel seemed to be doing the same arithmetic. “Was it mutual?” she asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Were you his best friend?”
    He didn’t look at her. “No. Probably not.”
    She nodded. “Never told him, huh?”
    “No.”
    Another nod. Another drag off her cigaret. “Doesn’t matter,” she said.
    “No. I guess not.”
    “It’s just words,” she said. “Doesn’t matter.” She stubbed out the cigaret in a beanbag ashtray. “What kinda candy bars you like?”
    “What?”
    “There’s a machine up in Duncans Mills.”
    “Oh … nothing, thanks.”
    “I’ll be back in half an hour.” She gave his knee a jovial shake. “Doesn’t matter,” she said.
    She climbed out and made her way up to the highway, puffing noisily, cursing every villainous branch that got in her way.

Rearrangements
    S TILL ON FOOT, MICHAEL AND THACK CROSSED THE graceless iron bridge at Monte Rio and made their way to the greasy spoon. Ten minutes earlier, the midnight audience at the Rio Theater had been released from Giant. Now the movie-goers stood in circles, jabbering, like patrons at a cockfight.
    When they entered the restaurant, Wren waggled her nails to get their attention. Brian was with her, looking a little sheepish.
    “You’re back in one piece,” Brian said.
    To confirm this, Michael held out his hands in a beatific pose. “How was your drive?” he asked.
    “Great,” said Brian.
    “Sit down,” said Wren.
    Thack slipped into the booth next to Wren, leaving the spot next to Brian for Michael.
    “What was the Grove like?” asked Brian.
    “Beautiful,” said Michael, “but weird.”
    “Too straight for you?”
    “Too white,” said Thack, frowning at a menu. “You guys eaten yet?”
    “I ate here earlier,” said Wren. “And I wouldn’t recommend it.”
    “I’m starving, for some reason.” Thack gave Michael a devilish sideways glance.
    It wasn’t lost on Wren, Michael noticed. “Go ahead,” she said. “Eat. You’ve earned it.”
    “We ate at the Grove,” said Michael. “We noshed our way through the