Sure of You (20 page)

Michael ordered dry toast and ate it slowly.

“There’s a bug going around,” Brian assured him. “A lot of people have it.”

His partner nodded.

For a moment, perversely, Brian’s imagination went berserk. He saw Michael at ninety pounds, the way Jon had been, an old man at thirty-two. “Sometimes,” he added hastily, “When you change your diet or eat too many fruits and vegetables…”

Michael gave him a small, indulgent smile as if to tell him to drop it.

“O.K.,” said Brian.

“What time is it?”

He looked at his watch. “Eleven.”

“We should be going. I told Polly we’d be back by now.”

“I have to say something first.”

Michael looked uncomfortable. “What?”

“I just…I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me.”

“What isn’t?”

“Leaving.”

“Oh.”

“You’re my best friend, you know, and…being your partner has meant more to me…”

“Brian, c’mon…”

“No, wait a minute, dammit. I have to say this.”

Michael looked down at his toast.

“If you’re embarrassed, I’m sorry but…”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“I’ve thought about this a lot, Michael. We’ve been through so much together. I’m really aware of…what it must be like for you right now.”

“Look, don’t exaggerate the…”

“I’m not, O.K.? I’m looking at the way things are. I couldn’t handle it if you thought I was…you know, deserting you.”

“You’re not. I don’t feel that way. Stop overanalyzing things.”

Brian smiled dimly. “That’s what Mary Ann always says.”

“Well, in this case, she’s right.”

“But something’s bothering you,” said Brian. “I can tell.”

“Look, my stomach…”

“Not your stomach. C’mon. I know you, man. I love you. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Refusing to meet his gaze, Michael picked up a piece of toast. “It’s got nothing to do with you and me.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“It is. Can’t you just leave me out of this?”

“Nope,” Brian told him, smiling. “Sorry. You’re in my life. There’s nothing I can do about it. C’mon now. Tell me.”

Michael sighed and set down his toast.

Completely Amicable

T
HE SHOW THAT MORNING HAD BEEN ABOUT MODERN
witchcraft, but the broomstick graphics and spooky music that accompanied it had not exactly jibed with the panelists: three paisley-clad crystal enthusiasts from Oakland. They had been desperate last-minute replacements; all the really serious occultists had defected to the networks for Halloween.

As she passed this funky trio afterward in the green room, Mary Ann fully expected a complaint to be lodged. Witches were a minority group nowadays, and one of these aging hippies was bound to accuse her of negative stereotyping, or possibly even “witchist” behavior.

But they were all smiles.

“That was a ball,” said the oldest one.

The other two agreed, grinning like idiots.

“Good,” she told them. “Let’s do it again soon.”

Well, it figures, she thought, heading for the dressing room. They had gotten high off their first dose of television, and all other potions had paled by comparison. Witches were just as susceptible as anyone else.

The phone was ringing when she reached her inner sanctum.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Burke, Mary Ann.”

“Oh, hi.” She collapsed on her sofa, toed her shoes off. “You’re back. How was L.A.?”

“Good. Useful. I’ve lined up some more talent.”

“Terrific.”

“Is this a good time?”

“Sure.”

“Have you had time to think it over?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And?”

“I think we can do business.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe a small preppy cheer of some sort. Or at least a burst of boyish laughter. What she got was a brief silence and the sound of breath being expelled. “Well,” he said. “All right.”

She said: “I think we’ve got a hit on our hands.”

“You bet.”

“What’s our timetable?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I need you in New York by the end of the month.”

She’d expected this but gave a whistle, anyway.

“I know. I’ll make it as easy as possible for you. I’ll get you the best movers in the business.”

“Actually,” she said, “I won’t need to move that much.”

“You’re gonna sell your stuff?”

“No. Brian wants to stay here with Shawna.”

“But, I mean, eventually…”

“No,” she said. “They’ll stay here for good.”

Silence.

“He thinks it’s best,” she said, “and so do I.”

“Well…”

“It’s not fair to uproot Shawna, and he’s got his own business.” She paused, wondering how Burke was taking this. “I’ll really just need a furnished place for the time being.”

He seemed to hesitate. “Is this resolved?”

“Yes.”

“Completely?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “This has been coming for a long time.”

“I’m sure you understand.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a contract involved here.”

“I know.”

“Are you getting a divorce?”

“Does it matter?”

After a moment he said: “No. Not really.”

“It’s all completely amicable. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“All right…O.K.”

“Shall we meet?” she asked.

“No. I’m flying back to New York tonight. There’s nothing we can’t work out on the phone.”

Another call came in. “Hang on,” she said. “Would you?”

“That’s O.K. I’ll sign off. We’ll talk at the beginning of the week. I’m delighted about this, Mary Ann. I’ve got a great feeling about it.”

“Me too,” she said. “Talk to you later.”

She punched the flashing button. “Yeah?”

“It’s Security, Mary Ann.”

“Yeah?”

“Your husband’s here.”

What the hell was this about? “To pick me up?” she asked.

“I dunno.”

“Well, ask him, please!”

“I can’t. He’s on the way up.”

“Terrific.” She slammed down the phone, suddenly filled with panic.

The rap on her door came moments later.

“Yes?” she called evenly.

“It’s me.”

She opened the door, to find him looking wretched and drawn, like a lost man stumbling into a ranger station.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“You tell me,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Michael says you don’t want me to go with you.”

That little snitch, she thought.

“Is it true?”

She eased the door shut and gestured toward a chair.

He sat down at once, obedient in his shock, and gazed up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waiting for an answer.

“He shouldn’t have said that,” she told him.

He nodded slowly, obviously taking that for a yes. “I thought maybe that…?” He cut himself off as his eyes filled with tears and overflowed.

She sat on the arm of his chair and touched his arm gently. “Please don’t think…”

There was a rap on her door.

“Yes?” she called irritably.

Raymond’s head poked through the doorway, prickly with mousse. “Sorry. Need some autographs for the studio audience.”

“Come back later, please.”

“But they’re leaving in…”

“Raymond…”

“Right. Sorry.” He shut the door.

“I’d hoped we could talk tonight,” she told Brian.

“How long have you felt like this?”

She didn’t answer.

“A month? A year? What?”

She stroked his arm and used the gentlest tone she could muster. “I think you’ve felt it too.”

“No.” He shook free of her and stood up, his cheeks slick with tears, his voice choked with anger. “I don’t think I have. I don’t think I’ve felt that at all.”

She paused for a moment, still on the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry you had to hear it like this.”

“Yeah, well…” He was flailing around for something to hurt her with. “What else is new? I’m always the last fucking one to know anything. Of course, I realize that when you’re destined for stardom…”

“Brain…”

“What did I do? Embarrass you in front of those lounge lizards at Stars?”

“You’ve never embarrassed me.”

“Bullshit!”

She kept herself centered by smoothing the material on the arm of the chair. “If it makes you feel better to cast me as the villain…”

“Oh, yeah! It does. It makes me feel fucking great! I’m on a major high right now!”

“If you would just…”

“Goddamn that asshole!”

She had been waiting for this and resolved to remain calm. “You know perfectly well Burke and I…”

“He’s taking you away, isn’t he? He’s paid for your expensive ass, and you’re outa here!”

“Lower your voice, please.”

“Does he know about this?”

“About what?”

“That you’re dumping your husband and child.”

She flinched. “I’m not dumping anybody.”

“You got that right! That’s one luxury you’re not gonna enjoy.” He lunged toward the door.

“Stop, Brian. Don’t be silly. Where are you going?”

“What the fuck do you care?”

“C’mon. Sit down. We can have lunch somewhere.”

“Fuck your lunch!” He flung open the door, then turned to face her for his parting shot. “You’re one coldhearted bitch, you know that?”

He slammed the door so hard that it knocked one of her awards off the wall.

She took off her makeup, then called the nursery.

“Plant Parenthood.”

“It’s me, Michael.”

“Oh…hi.” He sounded guilty already.

“Brian was just here,” she told him.

“Yeah. I kinda figured.”

“I just want you to know I feel totally betrayed by you.”

“Well, I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to keep your mouth shut. You promised me you would.”

“And how long ago was that?” he snapped.

“What difference does that make?”

“You told me you’d tell him, that’s what. It’s been days. The poor bastard was making plans about New York. He was apologizing to
me
, for God’s sake. I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t…”

“Why couldn’t you? I asked you to.”

“Oh, well,” he said snidely, “in that case…”

“You’ve hurt him very deeply. I think you should know that.”

“
Me
?”

“How do you think it felt for him to hear that from you? To know that you and I had discussed something so personal before he even knew about it.”

“Well, O.K., but…”

“If you had seen how destroyed he was…”

“You have got one helluva goddamn never!”

“Well, think about it.”

“I am thinking about it! You’re the one who’s leaving him, sister, not me!”

He hung up on her.

She sat at her vanity and cried.

Sooner or later, men were all the same.

A Long Evening

I
F IT RAINS A LOT THIS WINTER
,”
SAID THACK
, “
IT’LL BE
nice and weathered by spring.”

He was talking about his pink triangle trellis, now a fait accompli. All that was left was to plant the pink clematis, or maybe roses (they hadn’t decided which), and wait for nature to do her stuff. “It looks great,” Michael told him, standing back to admire the carpentry. “I really like the way you’ve joined the corners.”

“It’s not bad, is it?”

Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him that the whole thing might not read, that flowers—roses especially—might refuse to conform to the perimeter of the triangle.

They admired it together in silence. Eventually, Thack said: “I’m worried about Brian.”

“Me too.”

“He didn’t come back to work at all?”

“No.”

“You’d think he would’ve called, at least.”

“Well, she said he was really upset.” Michael felt awful about this. Maybe Mary Ann was right. Maybe he had only made it worse—actually contributed to Brian’s humiliation—by spilling the beans. “You think he’s pissed at me?”

“No. Is that what she said?”

“No, but…if he sees me as her ally…”

“What did he say when you told him?”

“Nothing, really. He was just kind of numb.”

Thack nodded.

“Do you think I fucked up?”

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It doesn’t matter. He had to find out.” He slipped his arm around Michael’s waist. “How’s your stomach?”

“Still there,” Michael told him.

“Why don’t you run a hot tub and relax?”

Michael did so for half an hour. He was changing into his nightshirt when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“It’s me, Mikey.”

“Oh…hey, Mama.” He collapsed on the bed and slipped into his mother mode.

“I hadn’t heard for a while, so…” She stopped there, as she always did. He had never known her to finish this sentence.

“I’ve been really busy. I’m sorry.”

“I left a message on your machine.”

“I know,” he said.

“Didn’t Thack tell you…?”

“Yeah. I just forgot. I’ve had a lot on my mind. How are you?”

“Oh…can’t complain.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“How are you feeling?”

“O.K. I seem to be responding to the AZT. My T-cells are holding steady.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Now which are they?”

He’d expected this, but he was still annoyed. “Mama, did you get the pamphlet I sent you?”

“I got it. It’s mighty confusing, though.”

“Right.”

A long silence. “You haven’t got it, though, have you?”

“No, Mama,” he explained one more time. “I have the virus. I’m O.K. now, but I could get it eventually. I probably will.” God, how he hated this “it” talk. How could he ever explain to her that he had had “it”—or it had had him—from the very moment he learned of Jon’s diagnosis, over seven years earlier? Most people thought you got this thing and died. In truth, you got this thing and waited.

“Well…I think you should be positive about it.”

How like her not to know that she’d made a pun. “I am, Mama.”

“Your daddy’s worrying killed him, sure as I’m sitting here. More than that cancer ever did.”