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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 his 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 a thought coming to him:

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.”

What If 5

His Profession of Love  

No doubt about it,

Susan did like him;

she liked him more than she,

at the moment,

comprehended or would admit to.

Accepting his answer as truthful, 

“Okay, then.” she said.

The plume of vapor from his mouth evidenced a sigh of relief.

Beginning to walk again,

when their hands brushed,

he took hold of hers

and was gratefully reassured

when he felt her fingers curl about his.

Their coats hanging on the outside of the booth,

hands held atop the table,

“Hot chocolate and apple pie, please.”

Cold air having painted a red blush on her cheeks,

unable to take my eyes from Susan’s face,

“Me, too, I’ll have the same.”

“Stop it,” she said good-naturedly,

you’re embarrassing me!”

“What?” Looking away,

“Oh, sorry.”

Thinking a moment,

“You know, it all seems so improbable.

Why did I go with my folks today?

Why’d my dad want coffee?

Why’d I suggest Walgreens?

And why did you and your mom

come in just then and sit directly across from us?

And also, looking at your mom,

she doesn’t seem like a Walgreens kind of a lady.”

“No, she really isn’t.

Matter of fact,

before we went to Walgreens

we tried the coffee shop at Field’s,

but it was packed

so we decided to go across the street.”

“That figures…

And then there’s meeting you like I did,

with your mother there!

And now I’m here,

looking at you.

Just looking at you.

God…”

I said, searching for the right words,

“Susan, you make my eyes feel good.”

Stopping, I looked out the window.

Weighing my words,

“I know it sounds crazy,”

Gazing at Susan again,

“but… I don’t know.

But, Sue, I think I…”

I know what I wanted to say,

but was afraid to say it.

Sandwiching his hand between hers,

 “what were you going to say?”

“Nothing,”

looking out the window again.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yes… Yes you were!”

Lifting his chin,

turning his head,

looking into his eyes,

“What were you going to say?”

“Susan, I can’t!

It’ll sound so stupid

you’ll think I’m an idiot.”

“I will not think it’s stupid

and you’d better tell me!”

Smiling wanly,

holding the first two fingers of his right hand,

squeezing them within her  fist,

“Better tell me, Mister,

or I’ll bust ’em off!”

“You’re going to bust ’em off, huh?

God,” I smiled, “you’re so sweet.”

The smile fading,

the look on his face suddenly serious,

“This is crazy,” I said.

We just met today.

This is the first time we’ve been out together,

Or, for that matter,

now’s first time we’re even alone.”

Stopping, looking out the window again,

collecting my thoughts again,

“But, Sue,”

turning back, looking into her eyes,

“I feel like I’ve known you all my life,

and right now,

—and believe me, I know it sounds screwy—

but I cannot remember what life was like

this morning, before I met you.”

Moving Susan’s hand to my lips,

kissing her hand,

 “You’re what I dream of when I dream of a girl.

It’s you I’ve always dreamt of.

Oh, God,” I said passionately,

“I feel so dumb,

but I can’t help it,

I knew it the second I saw you today.”

Hesitating, whispering,

“I think….

No, Sue, I know, I do;

I love you.”

Overtaken by a tide of emotion,

his throat thickening,

his eyes became moist,

then overflowed.

To be continued

©January  22, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman