Tales of the City 08 - Mary Ann in Autumn

afternoon. These days she rarely left the house without him, and then only for brief strolls around the neighborhood. He might have caught on to her scheme had he thought about it for a while, but he was glad to have the flat to himself, and Anna seemed excited about seeing Michael Tilson Thomas conducting something or other at Davies Hall. When she left with the upstairs neighbors, Selina and Marguerite, she was dolled up in her fanciest floral kimono and the little velvet cap that Michael had given her for her birthday.
    “If you’re feeling inspired,” she told Jake, holding on to Marguerite’s arm, “Notch’s litter box could use a little freshening. Otherwise, enjoy yourself, dear. We won’t be home until after dinner.”
    He watched from the door as the three of them—all moving at Anna’s speed—headed down the street toward the Muni Metro station. When they were out of sight, Notch approached and did her little leg-rubbing dance, so he took it as his cue to grab a bag of Feline Pine from its usual spot beside the washer. The ammonia smell stung his nostrils as he twist-tied the heavy bag of dirty litter and moved it, gingerly, to the trash. As he replaced the litter, Notch sat perfectly still on the kitchen counter, watching the operation with the air of a rich lady keeping an eye on her housekeeper.
    So now what? With Anna at the symphony and Michael in the mountains for two days, Jake’s major responsibilities were gone. He considered raking the soggy bamboo leaves from the terrace, but that would feel too much like his day job, so he settled on watching television. Anna had never cared for television (“except in times of national emergency”), so, despite the fact that the set was in his bedroom, he tried not to watch it when she was around. You could hear it all the way down the hall, so it would have been disrespectful to invade her space like that, considering the preciousness of her days. But sometimes, thanks to TiVo, when Anna was visiting her acupuncturist, or camped out on a bench in the art museum, he could steal a few guiltless moments in bed with ESPN.
    He had already watched two satisfying hours of soccer when the doorbell rang. By the time he’d pulled on his sweats and considered the usual suspects—Jehovah’s Witnesses, delivery dykes, neighbors with flyers for poetry jams—another possibility had presented itself. A glimpse through the window confirmed the worst.
    The Mormon kid. Jonah Flake.
    Jake sighed and opened the door. He waited for the intruder to speak.
    “Your grandmother said you’d be home today.”
    “My grandmother.”
    “The elderly lady. Whatever. She called herself your roommate. I figured she was kidding.” A crooked smile split the soft, round peach of Jonah’s face.
    Jake just stood there.
    “Dude … can I come in?”
    “Not if you’re packing a Bible.”
    Jonah grinned and held up his hands as proof. “I’m totally clean.” He cocked an ear toward the hallway. “Is that soccer?”
    “Yeah.”
    “AC Milan?”
    This is what they do, thought Jake. Find something they have in common with you and use it to get their foot in the door.
    “Listen, man, I hafta tell you, you’re wasting your time if—”
    “It’s not that, dude. I need your help.”
    Jake was thrown by the urgency in the kid’s eyes. “ My help?”
    “I’d rather tell you inside, if that’s okay.”
    “Well … we gotta make it quick … I don’t wanna miss this match.” This was bullshit, of course, since Jake could watch the match whenever he wanted, but he needed an easy way out if Jonah tried to get all churchy on him again. “You can sit over there,” he told Jonah, gesturing to Anna’s armchair.
    The kid sat down, but only on the edge of the chair, and his back remained unnaturally straight. He might as well have had a Bible on his knee.
    “So wassup, Elder Flake?”
    Jonah flinched as if he’d been slapped.
    “That’s what you call yourself, right? When you’re a missionary?”
    “That’s not what I am today.”
    “Okay … whatever.”
    The kid was quiet for a moment. “The thing is, Jake, I have the same urges you did. Toward men, I mean.”
    This wasn’t exactly news. The kid had practically said as much on Forbes Island. “But you don’t act on them. You’ve got … whatshername now.”
    “Becky. Yeah, I love her … for sure. She’s a wonderful girl. But I still have these feelings. I pray for them to go away, but it’s a struggle.