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What If 1

 I Lied

I lied!

On that day;

on December 8, 1951

in Evanston, Illinois

upon meeting,

upon meeting and instantly falling in love

with the girl on the kitty-corner stool

I lied.

Not immediately

but later.

I lied later.

Upon meeting Susan’s parents

I lied.

Upon discovering that college,

–for the wellbeing of their daughter –

upon discovering that a superior college education

was of the upmost importance

in the minds Susan’s parents…

and in the mind of Susan.

Until this time college not a consideration,

what else could I do?

I lied.

When one is young

when this then seventeen year old boy

met and instantly fell in love

with this then sixteen year old girl

who’s love was somehow,

who’s love was instantly reciprocal

considering this girl,

considering this girl’s reciprocal love

as a gift from God,

praying the past eleven years of laziness

could be overcome,

would,

with the help of God,

be overcome.

When one is young

when one has met the girl

the girl he knows,

the girl the young man simply knew

is the girl that one day

he would marry

and if all that stood in the way

was a college education…

was a superior college education,

then being a young man

then being a very young man

that felt…

that truly believed

if he worked hard enough,

this gift from God,

with the help of God,

those past years would be overcome.

But for then,

upon meeting the girl’s parents

what more could this

– far from studious –

young man do but lie?

What If 2

 The Lie

“Susan tells us,”

her father said,

that you’re a senior.”

“Yes, sir.” I said to Susan’s father.

“Taking any particular classes?”

“How do you mean, Mister Friedman?”

“Well, what are your long-term goals?”

He asked, “What do you plan on majoring in,

in college?”

Uh-Oh!

Three sets of eyes looking at me

I glanced at Susan,

who was staring intently.

Uh-oh, indeed!

Realizing this could break ‘it’ with

Susan before ‘it’ got started, 

remembering a suggestion

my father had made some time ago

desperately, “Photography!” I said.

 “Photography?

In college?

What do you mean?”

“My dad owns one of the best

commercial studios in Chicago,

and I’m…” lying through my teeth,

“planning on going to R.I.T.:

the Rochester Institute of Technology,

 uh, for photographic arts…”

“I suppose,” Mister Friedman said dubiously,

“one could make a decent living in photography.”

“Especially of one’s father owns the business.”

Mrs. Friedman added.

Thinking I was ‘out of it’,

at least for the moment…

“Your grade average,”

Mister Friedman asked.

“How’s your grade average?”

Uh-Oh!

“Susan’s dropped from A plus to an A last semester,

but she’s working extra hard to bring it up again.

Aren’t you, dear?”

Looking at her mother,

“Yes, Mom,” Susan said,

now looking expectantly at me.

Thinking, From an A plus to a regular,

old-fashioned A!

Exaggerating slightly,

actually lying through my teeth again

“I carry a B…”

 glancing at Susan,

“plus average, but,”

 I added quickly,

“that’s improving this semester also.”

Seeing a look of disappointment on Susan’s face,

“Switching schools and all, you know,

kind of threw me off.”

This being a somewhat plausible answer,

looking at each other, Mister and Mrs. Friedman

nodded imperceptibly.

“If you kids want to go out for a while,”

Mister Friedman said,

“It’s okay with me.”

Looking at his wife,

“Okay with you, honey?”

What If 3

 No Lies?

“The streets must be slippery by now.”

Mrs. Friedman said,

“You said you’ll walk wherever you’re going?”

“Yes,” I said,

“I’d rather walk anyway.”

“Mrs. Friedman and I think you seem

like a nice young man,”

Sensing, He’s not going to be just another boy.

And, Even if he’s not going to be a doctor,

lawyer or —at the very least—a C.P.A.,

maybe we can get the boy to change his mind.

And if not, he could be a good catch anyway.

“So, so long as it’s okay with Susan,

it’s okay with Mrs. Friedman and myself

if you two kids see each other.”

“But,” Mister Friedman said,

“don’t give us any reason to be sorry

that we made this decision. Okay?”

“No, sir!”

Looking directly into the older man’s eyes,

“I promise you won’t be sorry!”

“And bring that B up to an A,

okay?”

Answered a bit less enthusiastically,

“Yes, sir.”

Wearing a fur lined pink leather coat

with fuzzy white mittens

and a matching hat tied

beneath her chin,

looking at Susan as we walked

from the hallway,

My, God… I thought,

fighting the urge to take her

into my arms and kiss her

…she’s so beautiful!

And still I could not believe

that I was really there,

really here with Susan.

Outside the temperature was

still barely below freezing.

Snow was falling

but there was no wind

and even though the

vapor of their breath was visible,

they were not cold.

“Your parents are nice people

but God,

for a minute I thought they were

going to burn me at the stake.”

“Kind of reminded you of the

Spanish Inquisition, huh?”

“Yeah, it sure did.”

They walked slowly,

hesitantly.

Their hips touched frequently

and his bare hand often,

“accidentally,”

brushed her gloved hand.

Walking on the outside,

as they came to a curb

he took hold of her elbow, then,

reaching the other side of the street or alley,

reluctantly releasing her elbow,

Susan’s arm would fall back to her side.

Content to be together,

neither had spoken,

but now,

looking at him over her shoulder,

“Did you tell them,”

she asked seriously,

“no lies now!

Did you tell my parents the truth?”

Oh, God!

I desperately wanted to tell the truth about myself,

about the type of student I really was,

but knew if I did it would put a strain on

—if not completely sever—

our barely-budding relationship,

especially now that I had lied about

just about everything to her parents.

What If 4

With God’s Help   

This whole thing was so improbable:

Going shopping with my parents;

I never went shopping with my parents.

My father wanting coffee just at that time,

just across the street from Walgreens.

Mrs. Friedman and her daughter coming

into Walgreens just at that time, too.

And finding the courage to talk to her.

And she’d listened to me!

And she gave me her phone number

and she said she never gives strange guys her phone number.

And now, By God,

I am here, with her!

And I’m sure

—although having no idea just how much—

I’m sure that Susan likes me also.

The thought coming to him:

God!

It is!

It must be God!

The thought coming to him:

God wanted me to meet Susan!

Why else?

How else could this have happened?

Earlier, as it was happening,

he’d responded to Mister Friedman’s questions

without thinking beyond the moment,

but now…

Work!

The inkling of another thought coming to mind:

Maybe,

if I work my ass off,

maybe I still have time to buckle down.

Maybe I can go to Rochester to take an entrance exam.

Maybe,

if I work my ass off,

maybe I can make it!

If college is that important to Susan!

If that’s what she wants,

then dammit! I will do it!

“So,”

Waiting for an answer,

Susan asked again,

“did you tell my parents the truth?”

Oh, God!

Maybe,

if I work my ass off,

maybe I still have time to buckle down.

Maybe I can go to Rochester to take an entrance exam.

Maybe

with God’s help

maybe…

“Yes,” I said.

“I told your parents the truth.”

To be continued

©January  20, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman