Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

bit off a chunk.
    She did the same. “How old are you?” she asked, crunching away.
    “Seventy-one,” he replied.
    As if to match his fearlessness, she said: “I’m sixty-seven.”
    He nodded and hoisted his Butterfinger in a sort of salute.
    “I don’t look sixty-seven,” she added.
    “No,” he agreed, “you don’t.”
    In another gulp, she finished off the candy, wadding the wrapper. “So tell me about this camp of yours.”
    “Like what?”
    She shrugged. “What do you do?”
    He thought for a moment. “I made a speech a few days ago.”
    “Yeah? What on?”
    “Well … the Strategic Defense Initiative.”
    She nodded with judicial dignity. “Good thing.”
    “Well, I certainly did my best to—”
    “Damn good thing. If the Russians don’t beat us to it.”
    “Well,” he said, “there’s certainly a danger of that.”
    “You can’t trust them bastards.”
    “No, you can’t. You’re right.”
    They both fell silent. Mabel drummed her stubby red fingers on the dashboard. The night sounds grew louder, making talk seem alien.
    “You wanna get out and stretch?” she asked eventually.
    “No. Thank you.”
    “I’m sorry about your friend,” she said.
    “Thank you.”
    “You miss him?” He nodded.
    She heaved a noisy sigh and looked out the window for a moment. Then she said: “I got another bottle in back.”
    He turned and smiled at her. “Get it.”

Pajamas Without Feet
    B ACK AT THE CABIN, MICHAEL LAY ON THE SOFA BED, his head against Thack’s chest. “What a night,” he said.
    “A-men, brother.” Thack toyed idly with Michael’s earlobe, like someone working dough. “Don’t you feel a little guilty?”
    “For what?” asked Michael with mild amazement. “Crashing the Grove?”
    “No. Being an accomplice to adultery.”
    Michael hesitated. “I don’t think that’s adultery.”
    “You don’t?”
    “No.”
    “What would you call it, then?”
    “I think it’s more like … company.”
    “C’mon.”
    “I’m pretty sure of it,” said Michael.
    “You don’t think they’re up there banging each other’s eyes out?”
    “No.”
    “You’re a rotten judge of lust.”
    “Maybe.”
    Michael lay there for a while, listening to the thump of Thack’s heart. Outside, there were froggy choruses in the high grass along the creek. Someone in the pink trailer was playing Buddy Holly’s “True Love Ways.”
    “I love that song,” said Michael.
    “Yeah.”
    They listened for a while, Thack humming along shamelessly.
    “You’re a corny guy,” said Michael. He almost said “romantic,” but the word struck him as dangerous.
    “Well,” said Thack. “We seem to get music every time we do this.”
    Michael chuckled. “That’s true.”
    Thack traced Michael’s shoulder with his finger, then laid his warm palm to rest on Michael’s back.
    “I’m corny too,” said Michael. “It’s not a bad thing.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “I mean … not if it’s balanced. If both people are corny … then it’s O.K.”
    Silence.
    “You wanna know something funny?” asked Michael.
    “What?”
    “When I first met you, I tried to picture how you’d look in a jockstrap.”
    Thack smiled.
    “Now,” said Michael, “I wanna see you in pajamas.”
    “Pajamas?”
    “Yeah. Flannel ones. Baby blue.”
    “Not the kind with feet in them?”
    Michael laughed. “No. Just … the regular.”
    Thack stroked Michael’s hair. “Maybe next time, huh?”
    “Yeah, maybe so.” He ran his hand across Thack’s flat stomach. “When do you think that might be?”
    “I dunno,” said Thack. “Hard to say. Do you get back East much?”
    “No, not really.”
    “I’d like to come back,” said Thack.
    “Would you?”
    “Sure.”
    “We could work on this a little more.”
    “This?” asked Thack.
    “Us,” said Michael.
    Thack said nothing, stroking Michael’s hair.
    Michael was pretty sure he had gone too far.

A Woman Scorned
    U P AT THE LODGE, WREN ATTENDED TO BRIAN, WHO lay with his head against her chest.
    “Will you call me?” she asked.
    “When?”
    “Oh … when the moon comes over the mountain. When the swallows come back to Capistrano.” She gave his cheek a gentle whack. “When do you think, dummy?”
    “O.K.” he said.
    “Promise?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Just yes or no will do.”
    “O.K.”
    “If you don’t,” she said, “I’ll call your house and embarrass the shit out of you.”
    He smiled.
    Her fingers explored his springy chestnut