Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

place.”
    “You’re right,” said Thack, abandoning the menu.
    “The coffee’s O.K.” said Wren.
    “Actually,” said Michael, “we just wanna crash. If you could drive us back to the cabin …”
    “Fine,” said Wren. “Your car is at my place, so we’ll just all go back there.”
    “Oh … right,” said Michael.
    There was room here for a cheap shot, but the look in Wren’s eyes told him not to take it.
    In the car, she said: “I have a limo coming tomorrow, guys. I’d love company.”
    Thack said: “I thought you were going to the airport.”
    “Yeah, but we have to go through the city, anyway.” The prospect seduced Michael for a second or two, until he remembered. “What are we gonna do with the VW?”
    “Oh, yeah,” said Wren. “That’s right.”
    “I could drive it,” said Brian. Wren gave him a funny look.
    “No way,” said Michael. “That’s really nice, but …”
    “Really,” said Brian. “I like driving alone. I’d be glad to.” He shrugged. “I’ve been in a limo. You seen one, you seen ‘em all.”
    Thack chuckled. “Isn’t that what Reagan said about redwoods?”
    “It’s no problem,” said Brian.
    Wren reached over and patted his cheek. “This man is such a doll.”
    “I could do it,” said Thack.
    Shut up, thought Michael. Leave well enough alone.
    “I’m a troublemaker,” said Wren. “I forgot all about the other car.”
    “I really don’t mind,” said Brian. “I prefer it.”
    “To our company?” asked Wren, pretending to be hurt. She turned to Michael and said: “Does he mean this or is he just being nice?”
    “I think he means it,” said Michael.
    They made the bumpy ascent to the lodge in virtual silence. When they were all out of the car, Wren planted kisses on Michael and Thack. “You were so sweet to do this,” she said.
    “Hey,” said Michael.
    “Would you like … a nightcap or something?”
    “No, thanks,” said Thack. “It’s late.”
    Good answer, thought Michael.
    Wren turned to Brian and said: “Give the man his keys.”
    “Oh.” Brian fumbled in his pocket and handed the keys to Michael. Even in the dark he looked embarrassed.
    “The driver’s coming at ten,” Wren told Michael. “We’ll swing by sometime after that.”
    “Fine,” said Michael. He gave Brian an awkward little salute and climbed into the VW with Thack.
    “Well, well,” said Thack as they drove off down the hill.

One with Nature
    A PECULIAR THING HAPPENED TO BOOTER AS HE LANGUISHED there in the darkness, a virtual prisoner of Mabel’s Winnebago: He found that he liked it. It was soothing, somehow, to be stranded this way, so thoroughly a victim of chance and circumstance that all decisions were moot, all responsibilities void.
    Only twice during his forty-minute wait did a car whiz past on the narrow road, and the woods were seductively silent, except for owls and an occasional murmur from the leaves.
    Briefly, but with startling drama, a raccoon had mounted a branch outside the window and studied him dispassionately through the glass. Booter had remained still, confronting the little bandit creature-to-creature, holding his breath like a child playing hide-and-seek.
    When the raccoon padded away, curiosity sated, Booter made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. An outsider might have mistaken it for a giggle.
    One with Nature, he thought, tilting the bottle again. That was the expression, wasn’t it?
    Presently Mabel came loping through the broken branches. He couldn’t help thinking of one of those amiable, rumpled bears out of Uncle Remus.
    “Half an hour,” she said, climbing into the RV. “The tow truck’s comin’ from Guerneville.” Wheezing a little, she caught her breath, then reached into her shirt pocket. “They only had Butterfingers,” she said, handing him a candy bar.
    He thought of the chocolate Edgar had given him, remembered the curious expectant light in his eyes. What did the boy want from him?
    “I said no, thanks,” he told Mabel.
    “Well, I don’t listen to what men say.” She prodded him with the Butterfinger, like a new father proffering a cigar. “Take it, Roger.”
    He accepted.
    “What are you grinnin’ about?” she asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Well, eat your damn candy, then.”
    He peeled back the yolk-yellow wrapper. “We had these when I was a boy.”
    “Yeah,” she said, working on her own wrapper. “Same here.”
    “They were bigger.” He looked at the dark bar, then