Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes by Maupin Armistead

Author:Maupin, Armistead [Maupin, Armistead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Her Little-Girl Things

MARY ANN’S MORNING MAIL BROUGHT A NUMBER OF oddities: a press release from Tylenol explaining their new “tamper-proof” packaging, a free sample of chewing gum sweetened with Aspartame, and a strange-looking plastic funnel called a Sani-Fem.

Dumping everything on her desk, she sat down and examined the Sani-Fem. Ideal for backpacking, the brochure trumpeted, or when public toilet seats prove to be unsanitary. The larger end of the funnel was contoured to fit snugly against the crotch.

She whooped at the wonder of it all.

Sally Rinaldi, the news director’s secretary, stopped outside the door and peered in. “A raise or what?”

“Look at this thing,” grinned Mary Ann.

“What is it?”

“It’s … a Sani-Fem. It lets you pee standing up.”

“C’mon.”

Mary Ann handed her the brochure. “Read this.” She picked up the Sani-Fem again. “I’m dying to try it out.”

Sally backed away. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Mary Ann laughed. “In the bathroom, Sally.”

“Go ahead.”

“Right. And have Bambi walk in on me.”

The secretary smiled. “Use the men’s room, then. William Buckley might see you.”

“Huh?”

“Larry’s giving him a station tour. As we speak.”

“William F. Buckley, Junior?”

“The very one.”

God, what a pipe dream! Buckley and Larry Kenan against the wall, separated safely by a vacant urinal, shaking the dew off their respective lizards, when the girl reporter saunters in—natty in gabardine slacks and dress-for-success floppy bow and blouse. Voilà! Out comes the Sani-Fem. “Morning, gentlemen. How’s it hangin’ today?”

“Go ahead,” coaxed Sally.

“You’re crazy,” said Mary Ann, dropping the funnel into the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet.

“You’re too careful,” winked Sally as she sailed out the door.

At the end of a do-nothing day, Mary Ann brought the Sani-Fem home with her. Finding Mrs. Madrigal in the courtyard, she showed the device to the landlady and gave a terse explanation of its function.

“Funny,” said Mrs. Madrigal, her smile showing only in her eyes. “I had to wait forty-two years for the privilege of sitting down.”

Mary Ann reddened. It was easy to forget that Mrs. Madrigal hadn’t become female until roughly the time that Mary Ann hit puberty.

“Just the same,” added the landlady, sparing them both the embarrassment, “I think it’s a marvelous idea, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” said Mary Ann, adopting a quirk of Simon’s. “I got a note from Mouse, by the way. He sends you his love.”

“How sweet.”

“He says Simon’s apartment is kind of grungy.”

The landlady smiled. “English aristocrats are proud of their squalor.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“It doesn’t seem to extend to his personal habits, at least. He takes good care of himself, that Simon.”

Mary Ann nodded. “You’ve spent some time with him?”

“Um. Some … Why?”

“No reason. I just wondered what your impressions were.”

Mrs. Madrigal pondered for a moment, patting a stray wisp of hair into place. “Bright … I’d say. Quick. A little inclined to be vague.” She smiled. “But that’s part of his Britishness, I think.”

“Yeah.”

“But quite magnificent in the looks department. Or is that what you meant?”

There was something almost coy about the question that made Mary Ann uneasy. “No … I just meant … generally.

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