Reconciliation 11

Chicago, Illinois

June 21, 1957

Having to untangle his pants and underpants,

not having time enough to put his shoes on,

standing on the fringe of the Montrose Beach parking lot

in his stockinged feet with his shirt fully unbuttoned

the young man wondered,

what in the hell do I say to this guy?

 “Officer!”

The beam of light shifting from his face to hers.

The unaccustomed brilliance stinging her eyes,

looking down…

realizing she’d not only

misbuttoned her dress,

but in her haste to get dressed

she’d also put the left shoe onto her right foot.

“We’re married, you see,”

she said,

attempting to sound convincing,

“and he, uh, he is my husband and…”

“You’re married, huh?”

The cop said,

“So says you!”

The beam of light leaving her face

traversed down her body

to her cross-­toed shoes,

then up again where it hesitated on her chest,

where,

because the young woman hadn’t time,

nor the inclination to lower her dress

to put her bra on in plain sight of this man

—cop or not—

the top button was inches lower than its

mismatched buttonhole,

leaving the top of the chemise gaping open

with the upper rise of her breasts somewhat visible.

Noting this was a woman,

not one of the kids he and his partner,

weather permitting,

hassled near every night in this parking lot,

Officer John Mahoney’s tongue flicking his lips,

“You think bein’ married

—if you’re married—

gives the two’a you the right to be doin’ the kind’a stuff…”

jerking his thumb towards the car,

“the two’a you was doin’,

in a public parkin’ lot, yet?”

I’m a man,

the young man reasoned to himself.

And he’s a man,

even if he is a cop,

and maybe I can,

kind of,

appeal to him kind of man to man.

“I know we…”

The light shifting to his face,

“shouldn’t be here doing, uh,”

—thinking it best to leave just

what it was he was doing unsaid—

“that kind of stuff.

But we’ve been separated,

you see,

and my wife and me,

we just got together a few hours ago

and didn’t have any place to go to,

uh,”

—hoping the cop would sympathize—

“get back together.”

“And you thought here would be a good place to do it,

did you?”

©November 24, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman

To be continued as “The Reconciliation 12