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teeth.
    “Sorry I missed you,” he said. “You should call first next time.”
    Thack shrugged. “I didn’t know. It’s no big deal. I had lunch with Brian.”
    Michael shuddered to think what his partner and his lover found to talk about when he wasn’t there. “Where’d you eat?”
    “Some new place downtown. Sort of Mexican nouvelle.”
    “The Corona,” said Michael. “We went there last week.”
    “It’s nice.”
    “What did you have?”
    “The grilled seafood salad.”
    “Oh, yeah,” said Michael. “Brian had that last time.”
    Thack poked at his shrimp for a moment, then said: “I feel so sorry for that poor bastard.”
    “Brian? Why?”
    “Oh…just the way she treats him.”
    Michael looked at him for a moment. “What did he tell you?”
    “Not much, but it’s easy enough to deduce.”
    “Well, stop deducing. You have no way of knowing what goes on between them.”
    Thack smiled at him slyly. “There in the strange twilight world of the heterosexual.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    Thack chuckled.
    “Have they had a fight or something?”
    “I don’t think they’re together enough for that. She’s always out somewhere.”
    “She’s a public figure,” said Michael, resenting the way Thack always sided with Brian. “She can’t help it if people want her to do things.”
    “But she loves it.”
    “Well, what if she does? She should enjoy it. She’s worked hard enough for it.”
    “I’m just telling what he said.”
    “He can be a real slug, you know. He’s a helluva sweet guy, but..”
    “What does that mean—slug?”
    “He gets stuck in ruts. He likes ruts. That’s why he likes the nursery so much. It doesn’t challenge him any more than he wants it to. He can just coast along…”
    “I thought you said…”
    “I don’t mean he isn’t doing a good job. I just meant he isn’t as ambitious as she is. I can see how it might be kind of a drag for her.”
    “I thought you guys got along great.”
    “We do. Stop changing the subject.”
    “Which is?”
    “The fact that…” He stopped, not really sure what the subject was.
    Realizing this, Thack smiled. “Did you see her show today? Dead dogs.”
    “Yes.”
    “Was that lower than Geraldo or what?”
    “I thought it was funny, actually. Besides, she can’t help what her producers decide…”
    “I know. She can’t help anything.”
    Michael gave him a sullen look and let the subject drop. In the long run, Thack was too much of a newcomer to fully grasp the nature of Mary Ann’s personality. You had to have known her years ago to understand the way she was today.
    Somehow, in spite of the immense changes in their lives, Michael continued to see them all as perennial singles—he and Brian and Mary Ann—still chasing their overblown dreams, still licking their wounds back at Barbary Lane.
    But he had been gone for two years; Mary Ann and Brian, even longer. His employee, Polly Berendt, occupied his old digs on the second floor, and the rest of the house was inhabited by people whose names he hardly knew. Except for Mrs. Madrigal, of course, who seemed constant as the ivy.
    He had seen the landlady just that morning, poking among the fruit stands at a sidewalk market in Chinatown. She had hugged him exuberantly and invited him and Thack to dinner the next day. He had felt a twinge of guilt, realizing how long he’d neglected her.
    He mentioned this to Thack, who shared his concern.
    “We’ll take her some sherry,” he said.
     
    Now they lay on the sofa—Michael’s back against Thack’s chest, Harry at their feet—watching Kramer vs . Kramer after dinner. It was a network broadcast, and the censors had doctored the scene in which Dustin Hoffman and his young son are heard, one after the other, taking their morning pee.
    “Can you believe that?” Thack fumed. “They cut out the sound of the pee! Those fuckers!”
    Michael smiled sleepily. “Must not be in keeping with Family