Reconciliation 12

Chicago, Illinois

June 21, 1957

But we’ve been separated,

you see,

my wife and me,

we just got together a while ago

and didn’t have a 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?”

“Well, yeah.

I mean no! 

I’m sorry, Officer,

we don’t have enough money for a hotel

and didn’t have any-place to go.

But we are married!”

“You think I ain’t heard this bullshit before?”

“But we are married!”

The light shifted back to the young woman.

“We’ve even got a baby.

Matter of fact…”

pointing to the west,

above the line of trees,

to where the brightly lit top stories of the

Weiss Memorial Hospital could be seen,

“he was born there,

last March,

on the twenty-third.”

Not caring,

not caring in the slightest!

Thinking,

If it is true ,

she’s a seasoned broad

without much to lose,

and maybe…

“Lady,”

 Chicago police officer John Mahoney said,

“you’re sayin’ so

don’t make it so,

 an’ tellin’ me the two’a’ya got a kid together

don’t make that so neither.”

But just in case,

having to try,

 “You,” 

the light touching the young man,

“stand there!”

aiming the light to the front of the car.

“Okay, lady,”

Mahoney said,

“when were the two’a’ya married?”

Uh ­oh!

The wife knew her husband

hadn't a great memory

when it came to dates,

but even so,

he’ll remember the date of our wedding,

she thought.

 But,

Uh ­oh, again,

because they’d been wed twice:

the legal and religious.

Which one will he say?

“Come on, girlie, the date!”

Which one?

October?

December?

October is so close to my birthday

—they’d talked about it—

“December seventeen,

Nineteen-fifty-five.”

The light flicking to the young man,

“Hey, you! Over here!”

Waiting till he was standing alongside.

“When’s your wedding date?”

Uh ­oh!

©November 26, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman

To be continued as “The Reconciliation 13