“You’re sick,” said Mona.
“Give me that pencil,” said the landlady.
Mona obeyed her. The landlady scrawled five words at the bottom of her daughter’s list: A MAN AND A GIRL.
Mona blinked at it in disbelief. “This … this is it?”
Mrs. Madrigal nodded.
“God … it’s so … sexist.”
“I beg your pardon, young lady.”
“Girl?” gasped Mona. “You’re a woman!”
Mrs. Madrigal shook her head. “You’re a woman, dear. I’m a girl. And proud of it.”
Mona smiled. “My own goddamn father … a sexist!”
“My darling daughter,” said Mrs. Madrigal, “transsexuals can never be sexists!”
“Then … you’re a transsexist!”
The landlady leaned over and kissed Mona on the cheek. “Forgive me, won’t you? I’m terribly old-fashioned.”
Happy Ending
MOTHER’S DAY, 1977.
The mistress of Halcyon Hill sat in her late husband’s study, listening to a Bobby Short album and sipping a Mai Tai. Her maid, Emma, entered the room, carrying a stack of mail.
“There’s a card from Miss DeDe, Miss Frances.”
The matriarch set down her drink. “Thank heavens!”
“I knew she’d write her mama,” said Emma. “She’s a good child.” She handed the mail to Frannie and remained standing by the side of the wingback chair. Emma’s lonely too, thought Frannie. She wants to talk about DeDe.
Making a face, Frannie set aside the latest issue of New West. The cover story was “Inside the Cannibal Cult” by Burke Andrew. “I won’t even look at that,” said the matriarch. “I simply can’t believe what’s happening to this city.”
Emma grunted her agreement. “Some folks get mighty serious about religion.” The remark, Frannie knew, was more an indictment of Episcopalians than anything else. She declined to defend the church, however. She had too many crosses to bear already.
“Where’s the card, Emma?”
“There, next to the phone bill, Miss Frances.”
To Frannie’s disappointment, it wasn’t a picture postcard; it was one of DeDe’s own Florentine gilt-and-green things, and the message was thoughtlessly terse:
Mother,
Happily settled in now. Babies are just fine, and I feel all tan and healthy. I’ve met so many nice people here. This is my first job ever, and I love it. Miss you much, but think this is for the best. D’or sends hugs.
All my love,
DEDE
Frannie sighed noisily and laid the card down. Emma reached out and touched her shoulder consolingly. “Don’t you fret, Miss Frances. She’ll grow out o’ that. She’s a smart child. She’ll come to her senses.”
The matriarch shook her head, then dabbed her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “It’s too much, Emma.”
“What you mean?”
“It’s Mother’s Day, Emma. Edgar usually brought me some Godiva chocolates or something. Sometimes I just forget that he’s gone, and it’s like losing him all over again. And now Beauchamp’s gone … and DeDe … and my only grandchildren.”
Emma squeezed her mistress’ shoulder. “You gotta be strong, Miss Frances.”
Frannie was silent for a moment, then smiled wanly at her maid. “You’re so wise, Emma.”
“Just don’t you fret.”
Frannie nodded decisively and picked up the postcard again. Squinting slightly, she examined the stamp and postmark. “I don’t even know where Guyana is,” she said. Back in the courtyard of 28 Barbary Lane, Michael Tolliver was testing his legs like a newborn colt. Mary Ann emerged from the house. “I just talked to Mildred,” she yelled.
“Yeah?”
“It’s O.K., Mouse. They can start you as mailboy in two weeks, if you’re up to it.”
He let out a cheer. “A working girl at last!”
“You’ll like the new boss, I think. He used to be the creative director.”
“Uh oh,” mugged Michael.
Mary Ann nodded. “Gay as a goose.”
“Oh, happy ending! Happy ending!”
“In part, at least.”
“In part? The world has never been so good! Mona and Brian have been shacked up for almost a week. Mrs. Madrigal is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You may get rich selling your confessions … and Burke even richer. I’m a healthy, strapping boy again, and Jon and I can … well, never mind that part. Plus—oh, miracle of miracles!—my mother sent me a pound cake yesterday.”
Mary Ann smiled. “I know. Jon gave me some. I’m glad she’s coming around, Mouse.”
“We don’t know that yet. There wasn’t a message. Just the pound cake.”
“She’s trying, Mouse.”
He smiled. “A fruit cake would’ve made me a little nervous.”
Mary laughed half-heartedly.
“What is it?” asked Michael. “Something’s the matter.”
Silence.
“Oh, God! Not Mr. Williams? His body hasn’t shown up, has it?”
“No! For God’s sake, Mouse, don’t bring that up again! It’s Burke, Mouse. He’s moving to New York. He’s been offered a job with New York magazine.”
“Oh, no!”
“I should be happy for him, Mouse. It’s a fabulous opportunity. Most journalists would kill to have a chance to work there.”
“Has he asked you to go with him?”
She nodded. “It was the first thing he asked.”
“And …?”
“I can’t, Mouse.” She looked despairingly around the courtyard. “It’s too pretty here.”
“Good girl.”
“No. Dumb girl. Dumb girl.”
He shook his head.
“What’s the matter with me, Mouse?”
“Nothing, Babycakes. You’re just tired of running away from home.” He took her arm and steered her slowly toward the house.
“Where are we going?” asked Mary Ann.
“Back to Tara,” he grinned. “We’ll figure out a way to get him back. After all, my dear, tomorrow is another day!”
About the Author
ARMISTEAD MAUPIN is the author of Tales of the City, More Tales of the City, Further Tales of the City, Babycakes, Significant Others, Sure of You, and Maybe the Moon. In 1994 Tales of the City become a controversial but highly acclaimed miniseries on public television. More Tales of the City become a Showtime original miniseries in 1998. Maupin lives in San Francisco.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Praise for
More Tales of the City
“Maupin has done it again. He is a consummate yarn weaver and his admirers will find this volume as fascinating and titillating as the first.”
Charleston Post
“Maupin has a genius for observation. His characters have the timing of vaudeville comics, flawed by human frailty and fueled by blind hope.”
Denver Post
“Scintillatingly mischievous and bittersweet. The author’s trademarks—crackling repartee and cunningly interwoven plot—prevail. Highly readable, Maupin is the Me Generation’s P. G. Wodehouse.”
Library Journal
“Armistead Maupin is a first rate, world-class novelist, creating characters so vivid, complicated, tender, and true as to seem utterly timeless…. I’m willing to bet that fifty years from now Maupin’s work will be read for its detailed descriptions of late twentieth century America, its rollicking humor and kind heart, its Chekovian compassion, its Wildean wit, its intricate … sometimes unbelievable but always utterly irresistible plotlines.”
Stephen McCauley
“Like those of Dickens and Wilkie Collins, Armistead Maupin’s novels have all appeared originally as serials. It is the strength of this approach, with its fantastic adventures and astonishingly contrived coincidences, that makes these novels charming and compelling. Everything is explained and everything tied up and nothing is
lost by reading them individually. There is no need even to read them chronologically.”
Literary Review
BY ARMISTEAD MAUPIN
Novels
Tales of the City
More Tales of the City
Further Tales of the City
Babycakes
Significant Others
Sure of You
Maybe the Moon
Collections
28 Barbary Lane
Back to Barbary Lane
Copyright
This work was published in somewhat different form in the San Francisco Chronicle.
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint: Lines from “Shorts” from Collected Shorter Poems, 1927-1957 by W. H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc.
MORE TALES OF THE CITY.
Copyright © 1980 by Armistead Maupin.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2012 ISBN 9780062112583
First Perennial Library edition published 1980. Reissued 1989.
First HarperPerennial edition published 1994. Reissued 1998.
Library of Congress Card Catalog Number 79-1710
ISBN 9780060929381
05 RRD 10 9 8 7
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Armistead Maupin, More Tales of the City
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