Tales of the City 08 - Mary Ann in Autumn

Jake was on a ladder at a client’s house in Presidio Heights, cleaning leaves out of the fancy bronze gutters before the next downpour arrived. When his phone vibrated, he looked to see who it was—then took the call.
    “Dude.”
    Jonah didn’t say anything right away. Jake hadn’t talked to him since their soccer-and-cuddling session, so he wasn’t sure whether to expect regret or righteousness or what. In his mind, though, he was already watching TV with Jonah again (Manchester United, this time) and playing by the same uncomplicated rules of love.
    “I need your help,” Jonah said at last.
    “What’s goin’ on, man?”
    “I’ve been lustful again.”
    “Okay.” Jake’s face was aflame with unmanly blushes. Nice, dillweed. Good thing you’re just on the phone.
    “Where are you?” asked Jonah.
    “At work.”
    “You get lunch off? Can we meet at your gramma’s place?”
    “She’s not my gramma, dude. And she’s got company.” The upstairs neighbors, Selina and Marguerite, were probably hanging out with Anna now, since they’d all gone to the four-story rainforest that morning and had planned on coming home for lunch. “You’ve gotta give me some warning,” Jake said with a rapidly sinking heart.
    “You could come here,” Jonah suggested.
    “Where are you?”
    “At the condo.”
    “What condo?”
    “The one they rented for the elders.”
    “Dude.”
    “It’s cool. I’m by myself. The others have gone back to Salt Lake.”
    That’s right. They won. Their job is done.
    “Gimme the address,” said Jake.
    “You don’t mind?”
    “Nah. I can get off. I’m my own boss.” That was almost true, since Michael was still in the mountains and lunch hour was always Jake’s to call.
    “Praise God,” said Jonah.
    “Whatever,” said Jake, already feeling like a fool.
    •••
    T HE CONDO WAS ON THE fourth floor of a modern building near the Moscone Center. Jake had been expecting the chaos of a dorm room, but there was very little evidence that four other young guys had recently been camping out there. It wasn’t until they passed an empty room on their way to Jonah’s room that he spotted, stacked against a wall, signs of recent activity. That’s exactly what they were—signs—printed political posters that bore messages like YES ON 8 and MARRIAGE = ONE MAN + ONE WOMAN . There were also some obviously homemade efforts: cardboard crosses nailed to wooden stakes with Bible verses rendered in Magic Marker.
    Jonah closed the door as they passed.
    So that’s what the left-handed scissors were for.
    “We don’t have to do it in the bedroom,” Jonah told him. “I just thought it might be easier on the bed.”
    “Whatever,” said Jake.
    In the bedroom, Jonah waited solemnly, wordlessly, for Jake to assume the position before crawling into his arms. There wasn’t a TV in the room this time, so they wouldn’t have soccer to talk about. Jonah was wearing a starched white shirt and creased trousers, which made Jake self-conscious as soon as the kid had settled against his chest.
    “Sorry about the grody coveralls.”
    “That’s okay.”
    “I can take ’em off. I’ve got clean clothes underneath.”
    “No … it’s more masculine this way.”
    “Okay.”
    “I need that energy, you know.”
    Jake began to rock him, as the so-called therapy demanded, instinctively adopting a gruff tone. “I know, son. I know.” The “son” part might have been overdoing it, but Jake had seen enough daddy porn to know how easily he could pull off the slow-talking country contractor thing. He was from Tulsa, after all. If Jonah needed the sexless affection of a man’s man to escape the fires of damnation, Jake was willing to oblige.
    “What was it this time?”
    “The same,” Jonah replied dolefully.
    “The same guy?”
    “The same thing . Lust.”
    Jake could feel the heat of the kid’s breath on his chest. It felt pleasurable all by itself, so he found himself grateful that the doctor who had done his top surgery had done such a good job of keeping his sensitivity intact.
    “Where were you?” asked Jake.
    “A bus shelter out on Market Street.”
    “What happened?”
    “There were two guys. One was black, and one was white. And they were both naked and had their arms around each other.”
    “Dude … I mean, son … in the bus shelter?”
    “Behind the glass.”
    “You saw them through the glass, you mean?”
    “On a poster, dude. It was like … an ad for some AIDS