Boobies, Rubber-bands'n'paperclips
July 17, 1956
Cousins
“I’ll get it!” Putting the potato chips on the coffee table – although as of yet she hadn’t begun to show any weight gain – “Oy!” Pulling herself heavily off the sofa, going to the kitchen, “Hello.”
“Hi!”
“I was wondering when you were going to call.”
“I wanted to wait till you knew for sure, then... You know; making plans for the wedding, ‘stuff’ just kind’a got by me and... A baby! Marcie, I can’t believe it! Really! You’re really ‘knocked up’?”
“Yeah,” sitting, “I am really ‘knocked up’!”
“So, how’s it feel?” Lowering her voice. “You and Mitch happy? You, uh, want a baby, now?”
“Yeah, Mitch and me...” Looking at him, his back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, his attention now, though, turned from television to Marsha’s conversation with her cousin. “...we really do want a kid. And ‘how’s it feel’? Pukey! I’ve got all the symptoms of ‘mommyhood’, especially ‘pukey’! Except I don’t know why the call it ‘morning sickness’, ‘cause vit me,” speaking in her Yiddish dialect, “hit comes halmost heny time. Nu, today, I had to leaf a lady vit ha girdle pulled half-vay hup between her polkies hend her tuckas to go hend puke mein goots hup! So, mein cousin, how’s by you?”
“Marcie,” laughing, “ ‘by me’, Ray and me have been going nuts! My mom’s making us meshugge [crazy] with the wedding! How’d you and Mitch ever handle it?”
“ ‘Mitch and me’? Me, you mean!” Standing, turning her back to him, walking the two steps to the wall, whispering. “Only it wasn’t my mother so much, it was my mother-in-law, she was... is enough to make a lunatic a crazy person, or a crazy person a lunatic.” Returning to the chair, sitting, speaking so Mitchell could hear. “And where was ‘good old Mitch’ when I needed him? He just got on his little boat – teasing him because he was always telling her, ‘you can put a boat on a ship, but you can’t put a ship on a boat’ – and sailed away on a luxury cruise.”
“ ‘Luxury cruise’? ‘Luxury cruise’ my ass!” Coming into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator. “I was in the North Atlantic Ocean freezing my ass off defending the American way of life and the pursuit of liberty and justice for all and all that shit... Where’s the rest of that cake?”
“Oy, Max! God help us if he’s defending our way of life... I ate it this morning, for breakfast.”
“You ‘ate’ what, Marcie?”
“Sorry, I was talking to my husband. He asked where a piece of chocolate cake was from last night and I told him I ate it this morning, for breakfast.”
“You? Ol’ skin’n’bones had chocolate cake for breakfast? That sure don’t sound like my cuz.”
“Yeah? Well I’m doin’ lots’a’stuff I never done before! Being ‘knocked up’ is doing great things for me. You ought’a see my boobies!”
“ ‘Boobies’?” Pretending to look deranged, “What about ‘boobies’?”
“Guess I said the magic word.” Marsha laughed. “If I ever want my idiot husband’s complete attention, all I gotta say is booobies! Eh?”
“Booobie!” Grinning moronically, “Me want booobie!” standing behind Marsha, his hand dropped through her blouse, and beneath her brassiere.
“Mitchell,” said more for her cousin than her husband, “get your hand out of my brassiere!” as she, good-naturedly, moved his hand from her breast, and out of her blouse.
“They’re not growing yet!” Said not as a question but rather a statement, because Maxine Bernstein had all but inverted breasts and was jealous of anyone with even an “A” size cup and Marsha Lipensky, nee, Goldman’s breasts, although, to say the least were moderate in size – outside of an occasional materialistic thing – Marsha’s breasts were one of the two things about her cousin that Maxine Bernstein had ever been jealous of.
“No,” knowing what Maxine was getting at, “my boobies ain’t growing...” teasing her, and Mitchell, Marsha added, “too much!”
...Born four months before her cousin, though both girls were tall and thin, Marsha was dark completed with black hair and brown eyes, whereas Maxine was light completed with gray eyes and light blonde hair.
Growing up together, always living in the same apartment building or no further away than across the street, their friendship had developed from the time they became aware of each other and, except for the rules imposed by Ida Bernstein – because of Rhea’s exploitation of Sadie and Ida’s hospitality – throughout
their lives the two girls had been all but inseparable.
As a child, Maxine would argue with her mother: “But why can’t we have Marcie here for breakfast – or lunch or dinner – Mommy, she’s all alone! Please let’s ask her over! Please!”
But, “No!” would come the emphatic reply.
“But why?” would come the just as emphatic rebuttal.
“Because I said so, that’s why!” would come Ida’s terse retort.
“Why are you and aunt Sadie always so mean to her?”
“You’re too young to understand, but we have our reasons and believe you me, it’s for her own good!”
In time Maxine became tired of the constantly recurring argument with her mother and aunt so gave up and stopped questioning the reason for the two sisters partial ostracism of her cousin.
As teenagers the two girls were a team, each having their own distinct personality traits and, although they were best of friends, within their combined circle of friends they each had one girl that considered herself either Maxine or Marsha’s best friend.
As for boys, the boys either liked the light one or the dark one or the character of Marsha or the disposition Maxine, so the two girls rarely found themselves in competition.
Besides Marsha Lipensky’s, nee, Goldman’s breasts, whatever their size, the second thing Maxine Bernstein had always envied about her cousin was her ability to tan because, by the end of their first week in the country Marsha always had a rich, deep tan, whereas Maxine did little more, throughout the entire summer, than become painfully sunburned and was never seen in the sun without a greasy coating of “Zinc Oxide” covering her nose.
So, whereas Maxine had always envied her cousin’s breasts, whatever their size, and her ability to tan, Marsha Lipensky, nee, Goldman, had always and still did envy her cousin her mother.
Always embarrassed by her mother’s wanton actions, until speaking to Mitchell about it, Marsha had never said a word about Rhea’s extra marital activities, not even to her cousin.
Being unable to speak of her problems or go to any member of her family for even the slightest mental or physical comfort, Marsha had developed insecurities which she was able to mask with a quick mind and a farcical sense of humor and – although her husband thought she seldom showed any sign of
emotion during sex – in a subdued way Marsha was a sexual person but, because of her mother, had vowed to never be as her mother and did find it hard, if not impossible to show emotion during those times.
As she’d vowed to never be like her mother, Marsha had also vowed to be everything to her husband that her mother wasn’t to hers, and so tried – if not at work – to always be home when Mitchell arrived, to always have a meal ready, or in progress, to always keep their tiny home immaculate – except for those times when an unreasonable weariness overtook her and she could do little more than lay down – and now she anxiously awaited the time she became a mother so she could bestow upon her child, and children – for Marsh had decided she wanted four, so she might bestow on her children – what she had never received from her mother... her attention, her love.
... “So when’s it due?”
“The baby?”
“Yeah, yo-yo, the baby! When’s the baby due?”
“March. Sometime around the end of March.”
“Jesus, you’ll probably look like some kind’a ugly, grotesque, misformed string-bean for my wedding.”
“Thanks, Max, you really know how to make a guy feel swell!”
“Sorry, Marcie, but I don’t make the rules, and when the boobies get bigger, so’s the belly... You’re really not going to be able to make it to Rosalie’s wedding next month?”
“No. It’s either yours or hers, and believe me, I really want to. I can’t imagine Rose getting married without me there. But I’ll lose my job if I keep taking off and besides, now I’ve got to get as much time in as possible, to try to put some ‘gelt’ aside in case they do lay me off when I start to look like...”
“Some kind’a grotesque, misformed string-bean.”
“Yeah! You got it! That’s me.”
“How’s your doctor? You like him?”
“God, Max, that’s going to be tough. I hate it! It’s not like you’n’me know: When someone gets sick we call Doc Schaffer and he comes to us or we go to him. Where I go now is ‘Public Health’, and you can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like there.”
“ ‘Public Health’? The Coast Guard doesn’t have their own doctors?”
“Yeah they do, on ships, but they wouldn’t take care of ‘dependents’ anyway. That’s me, a
‘dependent’, and dependents go to Public Health. It’s so creepy! It’s in an old building downtown, uh, Manhattan. You give them your name then wait in this big waiting room with all kinds of strange people, even bums!”
“ ‘Bums’!” Maxine said incredulously. “They make you wait with bums?”
“Yes! When I was there one of ‘em came in and sat down and everyone moved away from him, and even from where I was sitting you could smell him; he stunk of pee! You don’t even get your own doctor. When you get there they give you a number...”
“A ‘number’?”
“Yeah. And when a doctor becomes available they call your number. I asked, and you hardly ever get to see the same doctor twice.”
“You don’t even get your own doctor? You don’t even know who’s going to deliver your baby? Marcie, that’s terrible! There’s no place else you can go?”
“Sure, to a civilian doctor! But remember, we don’t have insurance. But Mitchell’s spoken to his commanding officer, and he told Mitchell that because it’s become so bad at Public Health, and because so many of the men’s dependents are complaining about what I just said, that there’s something new that’s supposed to be passed that’ll allow dependents to see whatever doctor we want and the government will pay for it. I only hope it passes soon... real soon!”
“Yeah, Marcie, for your sake I do, too! I can’t even imagine doing that: not knowing who your doctor is, or even who in the hell is going to deliver your baby! Having to wait with bums! That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard of!”
The line silent a moment.
“So,” Maxine asked, “how’s Mitchell like his new job?”
Marsha knew that Rhea had told everyone in Chicago about Mitchell’s transfer to a desk job, but she also knew that her mother would never say that she was responsible because that would open her to too many ‘how’ questions.
Standing, going to the refrigerator, taking the package she had bought at a delicatessen in Bensonhurst today, putting it on the table, “He likes it just fine...” Opening the brown paper, removing one, Marsha noisily bit into a large, crunchy Kosher dill pickle. “... only thing is, Mitchell says no one there
likes him.”
“ ‘No one there likes him’. ” Maxine replied. “How come?”
Chewing noisily, “Mitchie,” Marsha asked, “Maxine wants to know ‘how come nooobody likes you’?”
“No, not nooobody don’t like me! Somebody do like me... I think.” Watching her chew. “They there don’t like me.”
“Oh!” Marsha told Maxine, “It’s not everybody that don’t like him.” Taking another bite of pickle, “it’s just ‘them there’ that don’t like him.”
“Maybe he’s wrong. How’s he know it’s just ‘them there’ that don’t like him?”
‘Yeah, Mitchie. Ummm,” smacking her lips, munching loudly. “Max wants to know, ‘how do you know it’s just them there’ that don’t like you?”
“I’ll tell you how I know ‘them there’ don’t like me!” Pushing his lower lip forward in an exaggerated, child-like pout, “ ‘cause no one there never shoots rubber-bands’n’paper-clips at me! That’s how! Everyone there shoots rubber-bands’n’paper-clips at everyone else there. But no one there never ever shoots ‘em at me!” Still pouting, “Not never!”
“Max, it’s ‘cause no one there ever shoots him with rubber-bands and paper-clips.”
“You tell your husband that he shouldn’t worry. It’s just ‘cause they there don’t know him like we here know him, and that when they there get to know him like we here know him, they there’ll be only too happy to shoot him with everything!”
“You’re not to worry. Max says they’ll shoot you, too, someday.”
“Yeah, sure they will! But tell your cousin thanks for the good wishes anyway.”
Now, sitting at the table, watching his wife eat the pickle, listening to her crunch the pickle, “That looks good,” he said, reaching to it. “Gi’me a bite!”
“No!” Moving back, out of reach. “It’s mine! All mine!”
“Marcie, what’s ‘all yours’?”
“My pickle! I’m eating my pickle and he wants my pickle and it’s mine! All mine!”
“Jesus Christ! Will you two kids play on your own time! It’s my nickel! Give him a bite already!”
“Ow!”
“What was that?”
“You told me to bite him, so I did! I bit him!”
“Marcie, say goodbye.”
“ ‘bye, Maxie!”
“See ya, cuz.”
