Tales of the City 06 - Sure of You

MAGAZINE
I READ IT, TOO. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

    “I like that part,” said Shawna, shouting over the music.
    “Me too.”

    BUT HERE YOU ARE WITH YOUR FAITH AND YOUR
    PETER PAN ADVICE.
    YOU HAVE NO SCARS ON YOUR FACE
    AND YOU CANNOT HANDLE PRESSURE.
    PRESSURE…PRESSURE…ONE—TWO—THREE—FOUR

PRESSURE

    Mary Ann gazed over at the child’s animated face, the tiny hands rapping rhythmically on the dashboard. Ordinarily she welcomed this little sing-along, since it strengthened her tenuous bond with Shawna, but today, because of that damned makeup, something entirely different was happening. All she could think of was Connie Bradshaw.
    She’d noticed the resemblance before, of course, but this time it was overwhelming, almost creepy, like a drag queen doing Marilyn just a little too well. She turned the volume down and spoke to Shawna calmly. “Puppy, did you have dress-up at circle time today?”
    Shawna seemed to falter before saying: “No.”
    “Then, why did…?”
    “Turn it back up. This is the best part.”
    “In a minute.”

    I’M SURE YOU’LL HAVE SOME COSMIC RASH-SHUH—
    NAL…

    “Puppy!”
    “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
    Mary Ann switched off the tape player. “Young lady!” It was time to play mother now—that is, to impersonate her own mother thirty years earlier. “I want you to listen when I’m talking to you.”
    Shawna folded her arms and waited.
    “Is that my makeup you’re wearing?”
    “No.”
    “Where did you get it, then?”
    “It’s mine,” said Shawna. “Daddy bought it for me.”

    “It’s for kids,” Brian told her calmly after dinner that evening. Shawna was in the bedroom, out of earshot, watching television.
    “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    He shook his head, smiling dopily.
    “Brian, that is just the sickest!”
    “I know, but she’s a big fan of Jem, and I figured it couldn’t hurt just this once.”
    “Jim?”
    “Jem. This rock star in a cartoon. Saturday morning.”
    “Oh.”
    “They make a whole line of cosmetics and stuff.” He wasn’t in the least disturbed, she realized. “It’s just dress-up.”
    “Yeah, but if she makes a habit of it…”
    “We won’t let her.”
    “It just looks so tarty.”
    He chuckled. “O.K. No more makeup.”
    His cavalier tone annoyed her. “I just don’t want her running around looking like some kiddie-porn centerfold.” Projecting morbidly, she imagined Shawna’s daylight abduction, then envisioned her photograph—lipstick, eye shadow, and all—emblazoned on milk cartons across the country.
    Brian rose from the table, taking their plates with him. “To tell you the truth,” he said, “I thought she kinda looked like Connie.”
    She thought it best not to comment.
    “Didn’t you? With all that makeup?”
    “That isn’t very nice,” she said.
    “Why not?” said Brian. “She was her mother.”
    He seemed to be goading her for some reason, so she made a point of staying calm. “Maybe so,” she said, “but I don’t think we’re trying for the total look.”
    “You noticed it, though?”
    “A little, maybe.”
    “A lot,” he said, “I thought.”

    She followed him into the kitchen and told him about Shawna and her modern jack. When they had both finished laughing, she said: “Guess who I heard from today?” She’d already decided it was best to be breezy about it. Any other approach might freight it with too much importance.
    “Who?”
    “Burke Andrew.”
    He opened the dishwasher. “No kidding?”
    “Yeah. He called this morning after the show.”
    “Well. Long time no hear.”
    She tried to read his face, but he turned away and busied himself with the loading of the dishes. “He’s in town, apparently,” she said.
    “Apparently?”
    “Well, I mean, he is. We’re having lunch tomorrow at D’orothea’s.”
    It shouldn’t have made her feel funny to say this, but it did. There was no reason on earth she should have included Brian in the lunch. He and Burke, after all, had never been friends, even though they’d lived for a while under the same roof. Brian had been too busy trolling for stewardesses to waste any excess energy on male bonding.
    “Great,” he said. “Say hello for me.” She monitored this instruction for irony and couldn’t find a trace. Burke might not be an issue at all, though she never could tell for sure with Brian. He had a maddening way of being hip one moment and rampantly jealous the next.
    “He’s here on business, I