Reconciliation 13

Chicago, Illinois

June 21, 1957

The light flicking to the young man,

“Hey, you! Over here!”

Waiting till he was standing alongside.

“When’s your wedding date?”

Uh ­oh!

Which did she say?

But,

“December 17, 1955.”

Releasing her breath,

Thank God,

the young woman thought.

Considering a moment.

opening the car door,

pulling the keys from the ignition,

motioning for her to:

 “Wait here!”

 The flashlight shifting again,

 “You!

 Lover boy!

 Come with me!”

As he only wore socks,

stepping carefully,

walking alongside the cop

as he cut across the western end

of the large parking lot.

“I don’t like leaving my wife alone!”

“Don’t worry ’bout her;

she’ll be just fine!”

Minutes earlier the young man had

been concerned about being caught ‘necking’

—well, maybe more than just ‘necking’—

but now…?

He was being led away to be…

What?

Beat up?

Killed?

What about his wife?

“You don’t have the right to do this!

Where the hell are you taking me?”

“I got the right to do whatever the f*** I wanna!”

Chicago police officer John Mahoney said.

 “An’ I told’j’ya’,

don’t worry ’bout it!”

Coming to the end of the asphalt,

walking about twenty paces on the now sandy,

hard ­packed soil,

the young man was able to discern

the black silhouette of car parked beneath a large tree.

Approaching,

he saw it was a City of Chicago police car

and through the open window

the glowing red dot of a deeply inhaled cigarette.

Talking through the open window,

“Stan, take care’a this guy for a couple’a minutes,

will ya!”

Opening the rear door,

“You,”

pointing to the young man,

then to the dark interior of the squad car,

“in there!”

 “Look, Officer,”

hesitating,

not wanting to go in there,

“please, you can’t do this!”

“Oh, yeah?”

©November 28, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman

To be continued as “The Reconciliation 14