Armistead Maupin - Tales of the City

TALES OF THE CITY
by Armistead Maupin (1978)
(This work was published in somewhat different form in the San Francisco Chronicle.) CONTENTS: For my mother and father and my family at The Duck House
It's an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco.
OSCAR WILDE

Mary Ann Singleton was twenty-five years old when she saw San Francisco for the first time. She came to the city alone for an eight-day vacation. On the fifth night, she drank three Irish coffees at the Buena Vista, realized that her Mood Ring was blue, and decided to phone her mother in Cleveland. "Hi, Mom. It's me." "Oh, darling. Your daddy and I were just talking about you.

There was this crazy man on McMillan and Wife who was strangling all these secretaries, and I just couldn't help thinking..." "Mom..." "I know. Just crazy ol' Mom, worrying herself sick over nothing. But you never can tell about those things. Look at that poor Patty Hearst, locked up in that closet with all those awful..." "Mom... long distance." "Oh... yes.

You must be having a grand time." "God... you wouldn't believe it! The people here are so friendly I feel like I've..." "Have you been to the Top of the Mark like I told you?" "Not yet." "Well, don't you dare miss that! You know, your daddy took me there when he got back from the South Pacific. I remember he slipped the bandleader five dollars, so we could dance to 'Moonlight Serenade,' and I spilled Tom Collins all over his beautiful white Navy..." "Mom, I want you to do me a favor." "Of course, darling. Just listen to me. Oh... before I forget it, I ran into Mr.

Lassiter yesterday at the Ridgemont Mall, and he said the office is just falling apart with you gone. They don't get many good secretaries at Lassiter Fertilizers." "Mom, that's sort of why I called." "Yes, darling?" "I want you to call Mr. Lassiter and tell him I won't be in on Monday morning." "Oh... Mary Ann, I'm not sure you should ask for an extension on your vacation." "It's not an extension, Mom." "Well, then why...?" "I'm not coming home, Mom." Silence. Then, dimly in the distance, a television voice began to tell Mary Ann's father about the temporary relief of hemorrhoids. Finally, her mother spoke: "Don't be silly, darling." "Mom...

I'm not being silly. I like it here. It feels like home already." "Mary Ann, if there's a boy..." "There's no boy.... I've thought about this for a long time." "Don't be ridiculous! You've been there five days!" "Mom, I know how you feel, but... well, it's got nothing to do with you and Daddy. have my own apartment and all." "Oh, that. have my own apartment and all." "Oh, that.

Well, darling... of course you can. As a matter of fact, your daddy and I thought those new apartments out at Ridgemont might be just perfect for you. They take lots of young people, and they've got a swimming pool and a sauna, and I could make some of those darling curtains like I made for Sonny and Vicki when they got married. You could have all the privacy you..." "You aren't listening, Mom. run away from your family and friends to go live with a bunch of hippies and mass murderers!" "You've been watching too much TV." "O.K.... then what about The Horoscope?" "What?" "The Horoscope. then what about The Horoscope?" "What?" "The Horoscope.

That crazy man. The killer." "Mom... The Zodiac." "Same difference. And what about... earthquakes? I saw that movie, Mary Ann, and I nearly died when Ava Gardner..." "Will you just call Mr. "You won't come back. "You won't come back.

I just know it." "Mom... please... I will. I promise." "But you won't be... the same!" "No. I hope not." When it was over, Mary Ann left the bar and walked through Aquatic Park to the bay.

She stood there for several minutes in a chill wind, staring at the beacon on Alcatraz. She made a vow not to think about her mother for a while. Back at the Fisherman's Wharf Holiday Inn, she looked up Connie Bradshaw's phone number. Connie was a stewardess for United. Mary Ann hadn't seen her since high school: 1968. "How long you here for?" "For good." "Super! Found an apartment yet?" "No... I... well, I was wondering if I might be able to crash at your place, until I can..." "Sure. well, I was wondering if I might be able to crash at your place, until I can..." "Sure.

No sweat." "Connie... you're single?" The stewardess laughed. "A bear shit in the woods?"

Mary Ann dragged her American Tourister into Connie's apartment, groaned softly and sank into a mock zebra-skin captain's chair. "Well... hello, Sodom and Gomorrah." Connie laughed. "Your mom freaked, huh?" "God!" "Poor baby! I know the feeling.

When I told my mom I was moving to San Francisco, she had an absolute hissy-fit! It was a zillion times worse than the summer I tried to join Up With People!" "God... I almost forgot." Connie's eyes glazed nostalgically. "Yeah... Hey, you work up a thirst, hon?" "Sure." "Sit tight. I'll be right back." Thirty seconds later, Connie emerged from the kitchen with two airlines glasses and a bottle of Banana Cow. She poured a drink for Mary Ann.

Mary Ann sipped warily. "Well... look at all this. You're practically a native, aren't you? This is... quite something." "Quite something" was the best she could manage. "I've been lucky," Connie beamed. "Being a stew and all... well, you can pick up a lot of art objects in your travels." "Mmm." Mary Ann wondered if Connie regarded her black velvet bullfighter painting as an art object. well, you can pick up a lot of art objects in your travels." "Mmm." Mary Ann wondered if Connie regarded her black velvet bullfighter painting as an art object.

The stewardess kept smiling. "Cow O.K.?" "What? Oh... yes. Hits the spot." "I love the stuff." She downed some more of it to demonstrate her point, then looked up as if she had just discovered Mary Ann's presence in the room. "Hey, hon! Long time no see!" "Yeah. Too long.

Eight years." "Eight years... Eight years! You're lookin' good, though. You're lookin' real... Hey, you wanna see something absolutely yucky?" Without waiting for an answer, she leaped to her feet and went to a bookshelf made of six orange plastic Foremost milk crates. Mary Ann could make out copies of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, How to Be Your Own Best Friend, The Sensuous Woman, More Joy of Sex and Listen to the Warm. "Ta-ta!" "Oh, God! The Buccaneer?" Connie nodded triumphantly and pulled up a chair. "Ta-ta!" "Oh, God! The Buccaneer?" Connie nodded triumphantly and pulled up a chair.

She opened the yearbook. "You'll absolutely die over your hair!" Mary Ann found her senior picture. Her hair was very blond and meticulously ironed. She was wearing the obligatory sweater and pearl necklace. Despite the camouflage of an airbrush, she could still remember the exact location of the zit she had sprouted on the day of the photograph. "Rest in peace," she said and winced. "Rest in peace," she said and winced.

Connie, mercifully, didn't offer her own biography for examination. Mary Ann remembered it all too well: head majorette, class treasurer for three years, president of the Y-Teens. Connie's waters had run fast and shallow. She had been popular. Mary Ann struggled back into the present. like for fun?" Connie rolled her eyes. "You name it." "I'd rather not." "Well... for instance." Connie bent over her hatch-cover coffee table and dug out a copy of Oui magazine. "You read that?" asked Mary Ann. "No. "No.

Some guy left it." "Oh." "Check out page seventy." Mary Ann turned to an article entitled "Coed Baths -- Welcome to the World's Cleanest Orgy." It was illustrated by a photograph of intermingling legs, breasts and buttocks. "Charming." "It's down on Valencia Street. You pays your money and you takes your chances." "You've been there?" "No. But I wouldn't rule it out." "I'm afraid you'll have to count me out, if you're planning on..." Connie laughed throatily. "Relax, hon. I wasn't suggesting we....

Next page