Tales of the City 06 - Sure of You

assembling for the parade.
    “How was it?” asked Brian.
    “O.K.” Michael stood up. “Polly’s there with Nate and the new guy.”
    “I thought it might have gotten busy on you.” He hoped this sounded conscientious enough. He had already begun to feel guilty about leaving Michael in the lurch.
    “No,” said his partner. “It was slow. I got the shits, that’s all.”
    “Oh.”
    Michael smiled ruefully. “Nothing dramatic. Just…garden variety.”
    “Well, look…nobody’s gonna hold you to this.”
    “I know.”
    “If it gets too much…”
    “I’ll tell you. Don’t worry. I’m over it, anyway. Shawna looks great.”
    “Doesn’t she?”
    “Did you make the costume?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Not bad, Papa.”
    Brian said: “She’s been waiting for you. You’re the one she did it for.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “She’s gonna miss you, guy.”
    Though Michael didn’t respond to this, something registered in his eyes. Brian couldn’t decide what it was. Embarassment, maybe? Sadness? Resentment?
    “Where does the parade go?” asked Michael.
    “To Saint Anne’s,” Brian told him, glad to change the subject. “The old folks’ home.”

    The procession included a fairly predictable array of witches, ghosts, pirates, Hulks, and Nixons. To her delight, Shawna was the only Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Brian and Michael tagged alongside with the other grownups, like paparazzi at a royal wedding—there but not there.
    The general idea was to cheer up the old folks, but most of the functioning inmates of Saint Anne’s were off at mass somewhere when the kids arrived. The deserted halls were modern, devoid of soul and pungent with piss. Nuns in white habits—the Little Sisters of the Poor, Michael said—smiled the tight smiles of sentinels as the parade of tiny pagans passed them by.
    Michael touched Brian’s arm. “Look.”
    A ghost in a white sheet had left the procession long enough to stop and stare in stupefaction at one of the white-habited sisters. From this angle, the child and the nun looked like a pair of Mutt-and-Jeff Klansmen.
    “Saint Casper the Friendly,” said Michael.
    Brian smiled.
    “This is sort of surreal, isn’t it?”
    “Sort of?”
    At the core of the building lay a mini-mall meant to suggest a city street. There were flimsy aluminum lampposts and plastic plants and an assortment of pseudoshops providing amenities for the residents. At the ice cream parlor one of the ghostly sisters was constructing a cone for a nearly hairless old woman in a wheelchair.
    Michael leaned closer to Brian’s ear. “Sister Mary Rocky Road.”
    The old woman heard the chatter of the children and stared, slack-mouthed and uncomprehending. One of the teachers yelled, “Happy Halloween.” The old woman squinted at the alien invaders, then turned away, clamping a palsied claw on her ice cream cone.
    “Christ,” Brian murmured, almost involuntarily.
    “What?”
    “Is this what it comes to?”
    “If you’re lucky,” said Michael.
    Brian left it alone.
    “Oh, no.” Michael made a face suddenly.
    “What?”
    “I gotta find a nun.”
    “Huh?”
    “Or a toilet. Whichever comes first.”
    Brian looked around. “There’s a nurses’ station up ahead.”
    “See you later.”
    “I’ll meet you out front. In case we get separated.”
    “Right.”
    Michael all but bolted to the nurses’ station.

    They reunited on the lawn at Saint Anne’s, twenty minutes later.
    “Are you O.K.?” Brian asked.
    Michael nodded, looking decidedly pale. “I made many new friends. Where’s Shawna?”
    “They just headed back. We can catch up with them, though.” He threw his arm over Michael’s shoulder. “Sorry you’re feeling bad.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You wanna get some breakfast after this…or would that just make it worse?”
    “No. I’m hungry, actually. Ravenous.”
    “Good,” said Brian. “I’ve found a great new place on Clement.”
    It was time they talked.

    Back at the school, climbing out of her shell, Shawna pronounced the parade an unqualified success.
    “We’re doing a pageant at Christmas,” she told Michael. “Wanna come?”
    “Sure.” Michael looked uncomfortable. It had obviously occurred to him that Shawna wouldn’t be here then.
    Brian swiped at her face with a Kleenex. “You’re gonna be green till Christmas. I think you’d better try some soap and water on this.”
    “No,” she said. “Cold cream.”
    “Great. But we don’t have any cold