More Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin

Author:Armistead Maupin [Maupin, Armistead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Gay Studies, Social Science, Gay, General
ISBN: 9780552998154
Publisher: Black Swan
Published: 1980-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Eccentric Old Bachelors

SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHTTIME SKY ABOVE THE MONTEREY peninsula, Michael loosened his seat belt and turned to check on his traveling companions.

Burke was asleep, sprawled obliviously against the window like a Raggedy Andy doll. Mary Ann was still awake, trying her damnedest to get engrossed in PSA’s in-flight magazine. When she saw Michael watching her, she managed a tired smile.

“I’m reading about Swinging Singles in San Francisco.”

“Arrgh.”

“It’s so depressing. Do you think I’m a Swinging Single?”

Michael shook his head. “Not a bit.”

“Thank God!” She leaned closer, whispering. “I don’t think you’re a faggot, either.”

“Much obliged.”

“I’ve come a long way on that, Michael.”

“I know. I’ve noticed.”

“No. You don’t know how bad I was about it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He paused, massaging his brow with his fingertips. “I just hope my parents can hack it.”

“You’ve told them.”

“No, but I think I’m going to.”

“Mouse … do you think they’re ready?”

“No. They’ll never be ready. They’re past changing now. They just get more the same.”

“Then why?”

“I love them, Mary Ann. They don’t even know who I am.”

“Yes they do. They know that you’re kind and gentle and … funny. They know that you love them. Why is it necessary for you to …?”

“They know a twelve-year-old.”

“Mouse … lots of men never marry. Your parents are three thousand miles away. Why shouldn’t they just keep assuming that you’re …” She sought for a word, making a little circle with her hand.

“An Eccentric Old Bachelor,” smiled Michael. “That’s what they used to call them in Orlando. My Uncle Roger was an Eccentric Old Bachelor. He taught English and raised day lilies, and we never saw much of him, except at weddings and funerals. My cousins and I liked him because he could make puppets out of knotted handkerchiefs. Most of the time, though, he kept to himself, because he knew what the rules were: Shut up about it, if you want us to love you. Don’t make us think about the disgusting thing you are.

“He did what they said, too. I don’t know … maybe he’d never heard about the queers in New Orleans and San Francisco. Maybe he didn’t even know what queer was. Maybe he thought he was the only one … or maybe he just loved living in Orlando. At any rate, he stayed, and when he died—I was a junior in high school—they gave him a decent eunuch’s funeral. Mary Ann … I had never seen him touch another human being. Not one.”

Michael hesitated, then shook his head. “I hope to God he got laid.”

Mary Ann reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Things have changed, Mouse. The world has grown up a lot.”

“Has it?” He handed her the third section of the Chronicle and pointed to Charles McCabe’s column. “This enlightened liberal says there’s gonna be a big backlash against homosexuals, because the decent folks out there are sick and tired of the ‘abnormal.’ ”

“Maybe he—”

“I’ve got news for him. Guess who else is sick of it? Guess

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