Tales of the City 08 - Mary Ann in Autumn

prove to you that I’ll stay without being coerced.”
    “I told you,” he said irritably, “it’s not about you.”
    He lifted the gun from his lap and placed the barrel against his temple.

Chapter 35
All the Man Stuff
    I t was only a short bike ride from Jake’s place in the Duboce Triangle to Michael’s house on Noe Hill, but the last few blocks were killer steep. Jake usually dismounted near the foot of Cumberland and pushed the bike the rest of the way up Noe Street. Tonight, however, his energy was flagging, so he dropped the bike and sat on the concrete stairs to rest. Seconds later his cell began jittering in his jeans.
    The sensation moved straight to his heart when he saw who it was.
    “Jonah … dude … wassup?”
    “Hey, Jake.”
    “You in Snowflake?”
    “Yeah.”
    There was a long silence, so Jake prodded him. “So … what? You miss me or somethin’?”
    “Dude—”
    “Guys can miss each other, you know.”
    “I know,” said Jonah. “And I do.”
    This seemed to be a serious declaration, and Jake could already feel himself blushing. He wondered if losing his uterus would eliminate that, and if, in fact, he even wanted it eliminated anymore. He wanted all the man stuff, for sure, but he wouldn’t mind keeping the blushing. It was just his heart doing semaphore.
    “That’s cool,” he told Jonah quietly. “I miss you, too.”
    “It feels freakin’ awesome, too.”
    Jake laughed out of sheer joy. “That’s the idea , man.”
    “It’s my first bromance.”
    “What?”
    “You know … like Paul Rudd in that movie.”
    “I know what a bromance is, Jonah. That’s not what it was. There was a lot more goin’ on than that. We made out for half a fucking hour.”
    “Yeah,” said Jonah quietly. “And Heavenly Father has forgiven me.”
    “You’re shitting me. Forgiven you for a kiss?”
    “The thoughts were unclean, Jake. It was just a blessing that we didn’t go any further.”
    “So … as long as there’s no peen involved, you’re not being queer. Is that what you’re telling me here? Is that what your fucking therapist told you?”
    “Dude, c’mon. I think you’re a great guy. Even though you’re gay, I—”
    “Even?”
    “The Lord has forgiveness for everyone, Jake.”
    “Fuck your forgiveness, dude. And fuck you for being too much of a coward to face your own truth. You wanted me bad and you know it.”
    “My therapist said you’d say that.”
    Jake hung up on him and sprang to his feet. He grabbed his bike and began pushing it up the hill toward Michael’s house, since he needed physical exertion to calm the storm in his head. He was more pissed at himself, of course, than he could ever be with Jonah. Why couldn’t he have left it alone? What had he hoped to make of that relationship? Why had he tried to build an eternity out of thin air?
    H E WAS A BLOCK AWAY, on the steepest part of Noe Hill, when he heard the scream. There was little doubt as to its seriousness—and none at all when he heard the gunshot. He dropped his bicycle on the sidewalk and sprinted up the hill to Michael and Ben’s house. There were lights on in the house, so he approached with caution through the garden. Beyond the French doors he could see Mary Ann sitting on the couch, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. When he tried to get in, he found the door locked, so he kicked through the panes with his boot, prompting another scream from Mary Ann.
    “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s Jake. Are you all right?”
    She nodded, unable to speak.
    “Is someone else here?”
    Another nod as she pointed to the garden cottage.
    “Do they have a gun?”
    “He’s dead,” she said.
    He crossed the garden to the cottage. The door was open, so he could already see the blood pooling on the floor. Moving closer, he saw the mound of the corpse, most of it covered with a long black coat. There was a sunburst of blood on the wall, and a hole in the side of the old man’s head. Jake had never seen this guy before.
    Jake heard a whimpering noise that made him jump. Roman came out of the bathroom with his head held low, as if he himself might have pulled the trigger.
    “C’mon, boy,” said Jake, feeling sorry for him.
    Roman made a slow, cautious exit, stopping only to sniff the corpse’s pocket a few times before heading out the door.
    Back at the house Jake called 911. He gave the dispatcher the address and told him: “We have a suicide here. Gunshot.”
    Then, thinking