Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

Brian. “I’d be crazy.”
    Michael gave him a dim smile. “Sooner or later, it’s a question of how you want to spend your time.”
    “I’m sorry,” said Brian. “That’s too pat.”
    Michael regarded him for a moment, then said: “My mother gave me a new address book last Christmas. I haven’t written in it yet, because I can’t make myself leave out the people who are dead. I can’t even cross out their names.”
    Brian nodded.
    “How pat is that? There’s one on every page. All of the H’s are gone, except you.”
    It felt a lot like a punch in the gut. “Thanks for telling me,” he said.
    “Oh, right,” said Michael, rolling his eyes impatiently. “Homosexuals, Haitians, hemophiliacs and people whose name begins with H.”
    “Look, if you’re gonna …”
    “It’s O.K. to be afraid, Brian.”
    “I know that.”
    “It’s also exhausting, and I’m tired of it. So I don’t do it anymore. It’s probably that way with your friend. There’s nothing particularly noble about it. It just happens.”
    “So that’s it, huh? Just don’t be afraid. That’s your advice.”
    “You can do what you want to do,” said Michael.
    He didn’t need this. “Great,” he said, getting up to leave.
    “Sit down,” said Michael.
    “Just forget it, man.”
    “Sit down, O.K.? I’m sorry. I’m just being crabby about Thack.”
    Brian sat down but didn’t look at him.
    “It just gets old, you know? Talking about it.”
    Brian nodded.
    “If you really want some advice … get your shit together with Mary Ann.”
    “I know,” he said.
    “You’re gonna be all right. I know it. You’re feeling guilty right now and that makes it worse.”
    “Maybe.”
    “That’s most of it, Brian. I can tell.”
    “What about … you know, the night sweats?”
    “It only happened once,” said Michael.
    “Twice.”
    “O.K., twice. Your mind can cook up all sorts of ugly stuff.”
    “You think my mind did that?”
    “It could have.”
    “I dunno.”
    “Your headaches are gone, aren’t they? Your sluggishness.”
    They were, he had to admit.
    “You’re not gonna die,” said Michael. “Somebody’s gotta take care of me.”
    “Hey.” Brian looked across at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
    “O.K., O.K…. So nobody’s gonna die.”
    Brian saw the elfin glimmer in his eyes and smiled back at him. “I love you, Michael.”
    Michael plumped the pillow again. “So marry me.”
    Brian laughed.
    “I mean it,” said Michael. “I need a partner.”
    “A partner?”
    “At the nursery, you dildo.”
    “Since when have you wanted a partner?” Michael shrugged. “I’ve thought about it ever since Ned left.”
    “You talked to Wren,” said Brian.
    Michael frowned. “What’s Wren got to do with it?”
    “Everything, I’m sure.”
    “Oh, don’t be such an asshole. I’ve thought about this for at least a year.”
    “But you still talked to Wren.”
    “Well, she may have mentioned that you’d expressed an interest…. Look, if you hate the idea …”
    “I don’t hate the idea,” said Brian.
    “I wanna buy that lot next door, expand the greenhouse. I need an investor, and I miss having a partner. You’re strong enough, we get along, there’d be no rude surprises.” Michael smiled. “ ‘You hold no mystery for me, Amanda.’ ”
    Brian smiled back. “Private Lives.”
    “See? A breeder who knows Coward. What more could I want?”
    Brian hesitated. “It could work, I guess.”
    “Work? It’ll be the best fun we ever had.” Michael reminded him of a kid coaxing his buddy into a tree house. “C’mon. Say yes.”
    “I’ll have to talk to Mary Ann,” he said.
    Walking home to The Summit, he warded off the specter of dread that dogged him across the moon-bright hill. The doorman made a lame joke about the fires still smoldering in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Whole neighborhoods had been incinerated, it seemed, and he hadn’t thought about it for days.
    On the twenty-third floor, Mary Ann greeted him in Levi’s and a pink button-down. There were more candles than usual, and the synthesizer music they used for sex was playing in the background. He wondered if she’d had the tape on all evening, awaiting his return.
    “Well,” she said softly, once more in his arms.
    “I’m sorry,” he replied.
    “It’s O.K.”
    “I drove out to Abbott’s Lagoon. Lost track of the time.”
    “Have you eaten?” she asked, heading into the living room.
    “I’m not hungry,” he replied,