A Ballectomy (humor of sorts)
January 1 , 1958
“Want us to hang around, help you guys finish up?”
“Nah, you’ve done enough already, Marcie. It’s our party and Marty and I’ll take care of the rest of it. You and Mitchie go on home.” Rosalie looked at Mitchell, asleep on the sofa. “That’s if you can get him up.”
“Oh, I’ll get him up, okay. One thing about Mitchell,” she said, smiling, “it’s never too hard to get him up.”
“Yeah, Marty, too. Only sometimes when he gets up, it’s hard to keep him up.”
Looking at each other, wondering if they were both talking about the same thing and, though, not saying, they were.
“You guys driving out to Skokie to get Mikey?” Rosalie asked as she and Marty saw them to the door.
Pulling his coat on, “No, my mom’s giving us the night off.” Mitchell said. “Thanks for the party, and a happy new year.”
“Maybe we should have stayed and helped them finish cleaning.”
Even though the temperature stood at below zero, Mitchell had the driver side window down a bit so the frigid air would help keep his liquor induced, still foggy mind alert enough to drive the few miles from Rosalie’s and Marty’s apartment to their own.
“Nah, they told us to go and there wasn’t much left to do anyway, only to get rid of the card table and folding chairs. Besides,” taking hold of her mittened hand, “I’m kind of anxious to get home because you know what I’d really like to do to welcome in the new year.”
Annoyed, “Yes, Mitchell,” she answered, “I know what you’d ‘really like to do’!” Thinking, rationalizing, And maybe I’d want to do it more often if you didn’t always have to announce that you ‘ want to’ by dropping those stupid hints. ”Okay,” she said, “if you can stay awake long enough.” Knowing – especially considering the amount that he’d had to drink – by the time she gets out of the bathroom he will, most likely, be asleep.
Sincerely said, “Thank you!”
He well recognized Marsha’s tone of annoyance, but felt he’d been rejected so often lately that he would rather drop hints so at least he’d know whether she’s agreeable before working himself into an advanced state of arousal than have to face rejection, which invariably led to harsh words or, minimally, another of their hard silences.
“Oh,” he said, “in case I didn’t say it yet, let me tell you for the first time in nineteen-fifty-eight that I love you!” Also said sincerely.
“Yeah, Mitchie,” said insincerely, “I love you, too.”
Although asleep when Marsha finally – as quietly as possible – slipped into bed, Mitchell awoke.
He kissed her, she kissed him and they had intercourse... Dispassionate intercourse.
Awaking to the ringing of the phone at 9:45, “Rosalie?” for a moment not sure if her friend was laughing or crying, “What’s so funny?”
Rosalie’s laughter contagious, having no idea why, laughing , too. “What happened?”
“We... Oh, God! It’s so funny!... I had to take Marty to the hospital!”
“Huh?” Marsha stopped laughing. “The hospital!”
Hearing the word ‘hospital’ coming off the bed, Mitchell stood alongside Marsha.
“Yeah!” Trying to hold it down, Rosalie’s laughter erupted again. “He’s all right now, but Marty’s... Oh, God! Marty’s poor...” stopping to catch her breath, “his poor balls.”
“Marty’s ‘balls’?” Looking at Mitchell, Marsha shrugged her shoulders. “What about Marty’s, uh, balls?”
“Last night, we got undressed and, uh...” laughing again, hesitating until she brought herself under control. “We thought that we’d, uh, you know, kind of ‘welcome in the new year’. Anyway, while he was waiting for me to get out of the toilet, Marty thought he’d put the folding chairs away and he was closing them, uh, naked, and...” cracking up again, “Marty slammed a chair on his balls and we had to rush him to the emergency
room...” barely able to get the words out, “for a ballectomy.”