Tales of the City 08 - Mary Ann in Autumn

alone.
    Or so he’d thought. Arlene had come back with a vengeance after Ray came down with Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t that his failing mind had resurrected the strained decade he’d spent with Arlene; it had simply imported her into his life. Anything Ray had shared with Mark inevitably became a fond, fuzzy memory of life with Arlene. She was gobbling up Mark’s marriage like a fungus—even recent events like Cavallo Point, where, if Ben recalled correctly, the two men had celebrated their thirtieth anniversary.
    After dinner, while Michael and Ray were having coffee in the great room, Ben helped Mark with the dishes.
    “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
    Mark nodded grimly. “Last week he told the cleaning lady that him and Arlene had just gone to the nude beach in Sitges.”
    “Ouch.”
    “It wasn’t like he ever loved her. He didn’t even like her that much. He barely talked about her at all for thirty years.”
    Ben towel-dried a plate and handed it to Mark. “Do you ever correct him?”
    “They tell you not to. They say it just confuses them and makes them feel bad.” He put the plate on the shelf above the sink. “I really hate that dead bitch.”
    Ben smiled faintly.
    “At least he still remembers me,” said Mark. “I shouldn’t complain.”
    “Go ahead. You’re entitled.”
    “No … really … we still have the moment. That’s all anybody has. And he’s always a lot of fun.”
    As if on cue, Ray bellowed from the great room: “Arlene! We need a fill-her-up out here. You still there, Arlene?”
    Mark sighed and grabbed the carafe off the coffee maker.
    “Hate her,” he muttered, as he leaned into the swinging door.
    O N THE WAY HOME, NEITHER of them said anything for a long time. Michael was the first to break the silence: “I would never mistake you for anybody else.”
    “Oh, yeah?”
    “I mean it. I might be a cranky old fool some day, but I’ll never forget who you are. Or what we’ve done together.”
    Ben took Michael’s hand and kissed the back of it. “We don’t come with that kind of warranty.”
    “Well, I do. Just take me to Pinyon City or … make me something vegan … or flop your balls in my face. I’ll remember.”
    Ben chuckled. “He spooked you?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “Me, too. A little.”
    “You know, they say that marijuana actually helps prevent Alzheimer’s.”
    “Who said that? Woody Harrelson?”
    Michael mugged at him.
    “Speaking of Pinyon City,” said Ben, “why don’t we head up there in a few days? Are you locked into anything work-wise?”
    “Not that I can think of. Is there snow on the way or something?”
    “Yep. You think Mary Ann would like to hang with you while I go boarding?”
    “I dunno. She’s having the surgery next week.”
    “Maybe she could use a change of scenery.”
    “We could always ask,” said Michael.
    There was still a light on in the cottage when they got home, so Michael went out to talk to Mary Ann. When he finally returned, well over half an hour later, Ben was already in bed with Roman, giving him his obligatory nightly belly rub.
    “Watch out,” Ben warned. “He’s been farting.”
    Michael rolled his eyes. “Great.”
    Ben gingerly shifted the dog to the end of the bed while Michael shed his clothes. “What did she say?”
    “About what?”
    “Pinyon City.”
    Michael seemed distracted. “Oh … she’s up for it.”
    “But?”
    “Nothing. She wants to go.”
    “So why did that take half an hour?”
    Michael climbed into bed and snuggled into Ben’s side. “I had to hold her hand for a while. Somebody on Facebook mentioned somebody she used to date, and she was weirded out about it. It was no big deal.”
    “What did they say?”
    “Nothing, really. Just brought up his name.”
    “Why would that weird her out?”
    “She’s in a really dark place right now. Who can blame her? I think Pinyon City will do her a world of good. We can go to the hot springs, or maybe snowshoe across the meadow. Do we have a ski jacket she can wear?”
    “Michael, who was this guy? What is it you’re not telling me?”
    “She really hates talking about it, sweetie. I’m the only one she’s ever shared it with.”
    “Fine. I won’t ask her about it. And I won’t tell her you told me.” He held up his hand, pointing to his wedding band. “Full disclosure.”
    Michael took a while to compose his answer. “He was this creep … this pedophile who lived on the roof.”
    “That she dated.” Ben