“Will do, Birdie. Thanks!”
Chapter 10
Artie’s instructions were for Ruth to meet him at noon at a little Indian restaurant on O’Farrell Street that he and Arturo had discovered recently. She drove round and round looking for parking in the streets where Union Square elegance butted up against Tenderloin squalor. In this part of town, a block in either direction could make a huge difference. Women in high heels carried shopping bags from Saks and Magnin’s on Powell and the streets to the east, but a few yards west of the cable car tracks they lay crumpled on sidewalks begging for cigarettes and spare change. Ruth realized she’d driven past Rene’s salon twice already, which reminded her that she needed her hair done, even as she was feeling sorry for the poor women outside the windows of her Prius who could never afford such a luxury.
Ruth finally found a lucky parking spot in the same block as the restaurant and entered an ornate high-ceilinged room filled with potted plants and exotic art. Artie had mentioned that the restaurant shared a lobby with a once-elegant old hotel. When he told her it was being remodeled and turned into something classy and expensive, it seemed to Ruth as if that could describe half of San Francisco.
She saw two people sitting at a bar on the opposite end of the lobby, but no sign of Artie. One of them looked familiar, though. From the back he looked a lot like Sam and he appeared to be having an intimate conversation with a woman in a wide-brimmed red hat. Ruth thought this might be a perfect place, in its present condition, for a married man to take a “lady” for a few drinks and then check into a room upstairs. In spite of the gentrification going on here, they might still be renting rooms by the hour.
Ruth looked at a menu and then glanced over at the couple again. It was Sam and now he was holding hands with that woman! Ruth was furious to think that he’d lied about going out of town, forgotten her birthday and now here he was consorting with some overdressed floozy in a hotel lobby on the edge of the Tenderloin! Tim had suggested that she and Sam needed an argument. Well… now she had a good reason for one!
Ruth hid behind a potted palm and dug through her purse for her new cell phone. She had Sam’s number programmed into her old one, but Ruth was sure she remembered it. She watched his back, but he didn’t make a move to reach for his phone. He must have turned it off so as not to interrupt his little tryst. At the same time the voice message came on, there was a crash from the kitchen, followed by an angry chef cursing at someone. Ruth nearly dropped the phone, but righted in time to leave a message:
“Sam, I can hardly believe what I am seeing. Even though we had that little tiff, I still thought things were going well between us. I can’t understand why you’d go sneaking around with another woman, especially on my birthday!”
The other woman let get of Sam’s hand, turned on her barstool and gazed across the room. It was Artie in full drag and he’d spotted her. “There you are, Ruth! Come over here. I was just showing Sam some of my old costume jewelry.”
“Artie! Sam!” She dropped the phone back inside her purse as Sam jumped up and rushed across the room to take her in his arms.
“Did I surprise you, sweetheart?”
“I thought you were out of town, Sam. Oh, yes, I’m sure I have never been more surprised in my whole life.”
“I was out of town. I flew back this morning. You didn’t think I’d miss your birthday, did you?”
“How did you find out when it was?”
“How did I find out? Don’t you remember? We talked about our birthdays on our first date, the night we had a bottle of champagne after dinner at Jardinière. Remember when we missed the Mozart but caught most of the Mahler? We joked about how if we were young and on our first date, we’d be asking each other’s sign. You knew more about astrology than I did. I figured you must have been quite the free spirit in your college days, even at Stanford.”
“Of course, Sam,” Ruth tried to smile. “How could I have forgotten a single moment of out first date?”
“Is anything the matter, dear?”
“No… nothing. I’m just so happy to see you. What a lovely surprise to see you and Artie both. I never imagined Artie would be all dressed up like this yesterday… when you invited me to lunch. With you out of town, Sam, I thought it would just be the two of us, Artie and me and… I’m so very surprised, that’s all.”
Ruth wished with all her might that she could magically erase the past five minutes of her life. How was she going to explain the message she’d left on Sam’s phone? She’d never distrusted him before.
“Artie and I planned everything,” Sam said. “Just wait until you see the rest of your surprise.”
A waiter opened a pair of tall doors into a formal dining room where there was an enormous table filled with happy faces. “Surprise! Happy Birthday Ruth!” The shouts burst forth as Sam and Artie led her through the open doors into a private dining room along with a wave of cheers and laughter and applause. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! Surprise!”
There were Tim and Nick and Arturo and even Ben and Jane and the children and Jeff and Tony, nearly all of Ruth’s favorite people in San Francisco including some of her regular customers at Arts.
Ruth was overwhelmed. This reminded her of her first night back at Arts after returning from Minnesota when she’d packed up and moved to San Francisco. How did Artie and Sam ever manage to pull this off? And she thought everyone had forgotten her birthday.
As happy as she was at the sight of so many friendly faces, Ruth was also frantic about the call she’d made to Sam’s cell phone. She wanted to cry. How could she have thought Artie in drag was a woman that Sam could be attracted to? If Sam were going to fool around with another woman, wouldn’t he choose someone a bit daintier, more ladylike and delicately feminine, she thought to herself… someone more like me?
Artie in high heels was even taller than Sam and even though he had lost some weight due to his constant dieting, he was still heavier than Sam. Ruth tried to excuse her misjudgment because she’d only seen them seated at the bar together, not standing. Still, she should have known better. All those thoughts raced through her mind as they led her toward the seat of honor.
“Happy birthday, Miss Ruth!” It was her hairdresser, Rene. How she wished she’d made another appointment with him before today!
“Rene! Mai Ling! I must have driven past your salon at least twice trying to find my way here. You’ll have to check your schedule and get me in to see you soon. I’ll call tomorrow. I promise.” Ruth turned and gasped as Nick’s grandmother came toward her. “Amanda! What a wonderful surprise to see you here!”
“Happy birthday, Ruth.” The elderly lady shook hands with the birthday girl before her grandson Nick led her to a chair. Tim was on Nick’s left with Ruth and Sam across the table from them with Arturo and Artie on either side.
Tears flowed down Ruth’s cheeks and she let them. She could blame her emotional outburst on all on the happiness she felt at her big surprise. After hugs and kisses around the room, everyone was seated, drinks were served and Ruth began to relax a little. Artie must have planned the menu and ordered for the entire group. Ruth was grateful to him for everything, but especially for not inviting his latest “find,” Rosa Rivera.
The waiters spread huge platters of food from one end of the table to the other. Everything was served family style and everyone here felt like family. From the smell of savory curries, exotic herbs and spices and several foods Ruth didn’t recognize, it was all delicious, even though she had no appetite. She had to figure out a way to extricate herself from that phone call she’d made, but she’d have to worry about that later. “Oh Sam… I was so sure you were out of town. I hadn’t even heard from you. I just can’t believe this.”
“Artie and I have been planning this for some time… and Arturo, too. Jake and James are here and Patrick got back from Palm Springs just in time. Scott helped us get hold of some of the regular bar customers to invite… like Terry and Chris here. I hope he remember
ed all your favorites.”
“I’m sure he did. It’s so nice to see you all.” She rubbed the palm of her hand against the breast pocket of Sam’s suit where he always kept his cell phone, but there was no lump there. “Sam… where’s your cell phone, dear?”
“I left it in the car. I didn’t want to think about business during your party.”
“How sweet of you.”
Ruth glanced around the room and realized the only people missing were two of her neighbors from Collingwood Street, Teresa and Marcia. Then she looked up and saw them coming in the door.
“Sorry we’re late!” Teresa yelled. “I had a terrible fright at home and then it was a bitch finding parking. Where the hell are we, the Tenderloin? Pardon my French. I didn’t see the little ones here.”
“That’s okay,” little Sarah, whom Tim referred to as the magic child, piped up. “I know a bitch is a mommy dog.”
“It’s not the Tenderloin; this is the ‘Theatre District,’ Teresa,” Artie said and Teresa finally recognized him.
“Oh my Lord! Is that you, Artie?” She let out a roar of laughter. “I wondered who in the hell that broad was!” Teresa had apparently already forgotten there were children present. Tim wondered how she got through a day in the classroom without swearing.
“Happy birthday, Ruth!” Marcia shouted as she and Teresa took their seats. “I thought you looked familiar, Artie.”
“Doesn’t he?” Ruth asked. “He reminds me of a girl I knew in high school, but she was a bit of a tomboy. Artie’s a lot more feminine.” Ruth was relieved to have the attention diverted away from her. She’d have to come up with an excuse to ‘borrow’ Sam’s cell phone later. She could say hers needed charging or it was acting up. She’d get his phone and erase the message before he had a chance to hear it.
“Thanks, I’m sure,” Artie said. “I don’t think ‘tomboy’ is a bad thing for a dyke, but golly, ‘more feminine than a tomboy’ doesn’t exactly put me in the running for Mrs. America. I was hoping for something along the lines of Joan Collins… back in her Dynasty days. What happened at home?”
“Speaking of dykes,” Teresa said, “That reminds me… the reason we’re late is because I discovered a homeless woman sleeping between the garbage cans.”
“How do you know the homeless woman was a dyke?” Tim asked. “Did she have an old shopping cart from Goodman’s Lumber or was she wearing Birkenstocks?”
“No, the homeless woman wasn’t a dyke,” Teresa said. “Well, I don’t know. She could have been, I suppose. The cop was a dyke.”
“What cop?” Arturo asked. “Don’t tell me you called the cops!”
“She didn’t; I did,” Marcia said. “I thought someone was being murdered downstairs. Between Teresa’s screaming and that other woman’s, they got all the dogs in the neighborhood barking all the way to the north side of Market Street. At least we found out we’re well protected. She was there faster than I could hang up the phone.”
“Your 9-1-1 call hadn’t even gone through yet,” Teresa said. “She heard me screaming from the corner. I never knew my voice could carry so far.”
Tim looked at his Aunt Ruth across the table and they both rolled their eyes.
“What did the cops say?” Artie asked.
“There was just the one, and she said she knew you, Artie. Do you remember a gal named Birdie Fuller? She said you two went way back together.”
“Birdie Fuller! Oh my yes! From North Beach, but I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Well, you will soon. She got transferred to the Castro. I told her all about you and Arturo and the restaurant and she said she’ll stop in to see you,”
“Birdie Fuller! Well, good! The Castro hasn’t had a good lesbian on the beat since that dear Jane Warner died. I’m so glad they named the new plaza after her. Do you remember Birdie, Arturo? We used to hang around back stage at Finocchios after my show. It’ll be great to see her again”
“Oh yes…” Arturo said. “I remember Birdie Fuller. What a sweetheart. Who could forget? What else did she have to say?”
“She said you need to get the front gate fixed,” Teresa said. “I had some WD-40 she squirted in the lock, but she says it’ll just keep acting up until you get a new one.”
“I’d been meaning to anyway,” Arturo said. “We don’t need people sleeping back there. Remember when that church in the Mission burned down a while back. Some homeless folks built a fire in the alley to keep themselves warm and it got out of control. I’ll get the gate fixed.”
Marcia told Artie how fabulous he looked and asked what possessed him to come to Ruth’s birthday soirée in drag. Artie was always thrilled to have an audience so he launched into one of his long stories. Ruth relaxed a bit, started picking at her food and listened to Artie.
“… and that was the year we got back from Viet Nam. Arturo was still down in L.A. taking care of family business and I was tending bar on Polk Street. I got a room in a big old flat on Turk Street with a bunch of guys. We called it ‘lower Nob Hill,’ but that really was the Tenderloin. Anyway, I woke up one morning and wished I hadn’t. I opened my bloodshot eyes and saw a dress on the floor and it wasn’t mine!”
“Don’t you hate when that happens?” Jake asked and everyone laughed, but Artie had the spotlight now.
“Then I saw a pair of red high heels beside my bed and this was years before Donna Sachet had blown into town. I saw a pair of pantyhose and a crumpled dress. Oh, children, let me tell you… it wasn’t pretty! And in my bed was an even bigger mess!”
“Who was it, Artie?” several people asked at once.
To paraphrase the immortal words of Dianne Feinstein, ‘the suspect was Dan White.’ That was his real name—Dan White! He’d been a guest of one of my roommates at a Halloween party the night before. I don’t remember how he ended up in my bed, but can you imagine living in San Francisco in those days with the name of Dan White? This was before the Dan White was so infamous, but the Danny White in my bed that morning was still around town long after November of ’78!”
Arturo interrupted to explain to those under thirty that Dan White was also the name of George Moscone and Harvey Milk’s assassin. Artie went on, “Poor Danny White. I got to know him—the gay one, I mean—after the party. I wonder whatever became of him. I suppose he fell to the plague in the 80s, but I’ll never know for sure. I didn’t see his picture in the B.A.R. obituaries and I’ve read them religiously all these years… I still do.”
“He means AIDS,” Arturo had designated himself to be Artie’s translator.
“But Artie…” Ruth asked. “About this Halloween party… why was finding those clothes in your room a surprise? I thought you were already doing drag in Viet Nam.”
“I already told you they weren’t mine. Oh, I know how Arturo loves to tell those stories about Bob Hope and the USO, but that was just playing dress-up. I never did serious drag in the service. Not even that morning after the Halloween party, but I did try on those red high heels right quick and they fit me like a glove. Then I slipped into Danny White’s dress and left him passed out in my bed. You should have seen that apartment. It was a disaster. I had to step over moaning bodies. It was like a battlefield the length of that entire hallway, but I found some lipstick and mascara someone had left in the bathroom, so I painted my face a little. Then I found a red wig on the floor… well, that queen had let it slip so far off her head she didn’t even feel me snatch it.”
Tim looked over at Nick and wondered what he was thinking about, but Nick appeared to be captivated by Artie’s story, as did everyone else. Nick’s grandmother Amanda was even taking notes.
“I gathered up a few accessories from among the wounded… a feather boa here, some bracelets there… you know. I made it to the kitchen, put on the coffee and whipped up about a gallon of Bloody Marys. I turned on the stereo and people started coming around. By the time the coffee was ready, I was on a roll, dancing, singing along to the record player, cracking jokes. Nobo
dy touched the coffee unless they put some Irish whiskey in it first, but the party went on all day! I was having a fabulous time, my dears! I decided if doing drag was this much fun, I should put an act together. What wonders a pair of red high heels and a borrowed dress can do!”
“What an interesting story!” Amanda Musgrove looked at Artie in a new way, as if he might become a character in one of her mystery novels.
“That’s quite a story, alright,” Ruth said and realized that she and Amanda, the oldest heterosexual females in the room, were the only people who had remarked on it. Maybe the young gay men were interested too, but they didn’t know what to say. She hoped that their quiet might be a sign of respect for their elders. Then a crew of waiters arrived with a cake and everyone sang Happy Birthday. After Ruth blew out the candles, they wheeled another table in. This one was piled with gift-wrapped packages.
“Those can’t all be for me! This feels like Christmas morning. Maybe we should move back into the other room and open the gifts in there. I’m sure some of you wouldn’t mind stretching your legs.”
“Or getting a drink at the bar!” Artie said. “That darling bartender looks lonely.”
“Before we move,” Sam said, “there’s one present I’d like you to open in front of everyone.” He reached into his breast pocket—where his cell phone ought to be—and handed Ruth a white envelope.
“What on earth, Sam?”
“Maybe I’d better explain to all our friends. When Ruth agreed to marry me, she made me a very happy man, but I know that everyone in this room loves her too, enough so that she has misgivings about coming to live with me in Hillsborough full-time.”
Ruth spread open an official-looking letter with a logo at the top that looked like some kind of business stationery. “What does this mean?”
“It’s the lease to your apartment on Collingwood Street, paid in full for one year in advance. This way you know I’m not pressuring you into making any sudden changes. I’m just happy for every moment we get to spend together.”
Wedding Season Page 7