summer

Chicago, Illinois – Lakeside, Michigan; 1944

Leaning through the open window, “You okay on your pillow, baby?”

Bending her head backwards, looking up at him, “Yes, Daddy.”

“You comfortable enough?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Everyone set? We got everything?”

“Yes, Eli,” someone said tiredly, “we’ve got everything, Eli!”

“Anyone have to go to the toilet?”

“Christ,” one of the men in the front said good-naturedly, “he’s such a nudnik!”

“No, Eli,” one of the women in back giggled, “no-one’s got to go potty.”

Reaching through the open window, cradling the back of the little girl’s head, protecting it from being bumped, closing the rear door, Eli  pulled the handle up from the inside, locking it.

The ropes holding the bale of items atop the car and the overly loaded, ajar, trunk door were checked once again, then, taking the outside position, sitting on the front seat, pulling the door shut, “Okay, Harry,” Eli said, “let ‘er rip!”

Harry Rafkin, the driver and owner of the pre-war Cadillac was married to Sadie, the eldest of the sisters, whom, her mother excluded, considered herself the matriarch of the family.

The man sitting in the middle of the front seat was Stanley Bernstein, who was married to Ida.

Ida Bernstein, nicknamed “Duchess”, was a regal appearing women who always spoke properly, always carried herself erect, and was usually royally, if not noticeably soused.

Rhea, the youngest, and by far the most beautiful of the sisters sat sandwiched between Sadie and Ida. Rhea’s bare feet rested on the girl’s outstretched legs, but the girl didn’t mind; matter of fact, Marsha loved the feel of her mother touching her, even if it was only because there was no-place else for Rhea to comfortably put her feet.

Roger and Maxine Bernstein, Marsha’s younger cousin – by four months – had left for Lakeside an hour earlier with David and Rose Wolf and their two children, Robert and Sharon. The Wolfs were neighbors and close friends, having known the sisters and their husbands for years.

When Mrs. Dombroski, the old lady that owned the grove of summer cottages died two years earlier; knowing they would receive more money if sold separately rather than as a whole,  Mrs. Dombroski’s children offered the eight, two bedroom cottages to their present tenants at a cost below individual market value and each of the sisters, along with the Wolfs, took advantage of the opportunity.

Slightly less than a hundred miles from the Goldman apartment on the near north side of Chicago, the route to Lakeside leads along Lake Michigan, through Chicago’s south side and the sulphur smelling town of Hammond, Indiana, across the tip of Indiana into the state of Michigan.

When the demographics along the two lane highway changed from urban to rural, overhanging trees and high, grass covered embankments lined either side of the well traveled road. Fruit and cider stands abounded in both directions to catch the travelers going and, or, coming.

Reaching behind the seat, Eli patted his daughter’s knee to get her attention, then, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, indicated that he wanted to hold her hand.

Holding it, Marsha felt the strength of her “daddy’s” hand.

There were calluses on the tips of Eli’s fingers and the pads of his palm, yet his hand was absolutely clean and, each having a perfect white crescent, the nails trimmed and filed.

Moving her face to it, rubbing her cheek in the palm of her daddy’s hand, the young girl could smell the slight, clean scent of  “Vegal Lilac” .

All of her life, whenever  she would smell even a hint, or even the hint of the slightest facsimile, a feeling of nostalgia would overtake Marsha and she would be reminded of this moment and “Vegal Lilac”, her father’s after shave lotion.

Through Illinois...

Through Michigan City, Indian, and over the “singing bridge”...

Into the state of Michigan.

 Only eighteen miles to go!

Here’s New Buffalo. Eight miles to go!

Here’s the “Union Pier Bowl” and the “Old Road” cutoff.

Only two miles to go.

Here’s “Captain Dan’s Fish and Shrimp”, and here, here! Take a left off the highway, go to the first dirt road, take a right and...

Oh, God! There it is!

The short road ending in a cul-de-sac, each of the eight cottages were separated by a dirt driveway and a tangle of lilac and raspberry bushes.

“We’re here!”

Back in “the country”.

Smell the pine of the trees, the flowering bushes, the lake! Smell the air!

So cool! So sweet!

Oh, God! We’re back!

Marsha loved it here! More than anything in her life, Marsha loved the country: the beach, the lake, the summertime friends...

The one thing missing, the one thing that would make her summer perfect: Mother.

The men must work, Marsha was aware of this, but her aunt Sadie and her aunt Ida and Mrs. Wolf,  whom she called “Aunt Rose”, and all the other mothers in the grove remained with their children, so why couldn’t, why wouldn’t her mother stay, too? Maybe? Maybe this summer she would.

On Sunday evenings the men: Uncle Harry, Uncle Stan and Mister Wolf, whom Marsha called “Uncle David”, and her “daddy” all piled into Harry Rafkin’s Cadillac –  leaving David Wolf’s Buick for the women to use for shopping or in the event of an emergency – and drove back to Chicago... And, last year and the year before, for  the two years the family had been summering at Lakeside, Rhea went with them.

It was not as though she had to go, she wanted to go, and nobody – so they said – could understand why, or if they did, no-one admitted as to why they thought she wanted to go, or what she did alone in the hot apartment during the day while Eli was at work from early Monday morning to Friday afternoon when the men and Rhea got together once again to drive back to Lakeside for the weekend.

If Eli had ever tried to understand the motivations of his wife, he had long since given up trying,  or really – more the likely – didn’t want to know.

Rhea rationalized leaving her children alone by the thought that Roger, could, more or less, take care of himself and, to some degree, his sister.  Besides, Rhea knew that her sisters and the other women of  the cove were there to help, supervise and watch over Roger and Marsha...

Sadly, she was mistaken on all counts.

Roger, like many older siblings disliked his sister, at first thinking of her as an interloper, a pest that came along and diluted his parents love and attention. Although, concerning the love of his mother, Roger had no need to worry for all Rhea had ever wanted was one child, Roger, and any outward display of attention or motherly love for Marsha was given only for the benefit of other people, was accidental, or, administered by Rhea as sarcasm that Roger sometimes misconstrue d as affection.

The affection his father had and readily bestowed on Marsha was a far different matter of course. Although he could not put his feelings into words, even at age twelve Roger considered Eli an inconsequential dupe and a cuckold and truly did not care if his sister received all of their father’s love and attention because Roger blamed him, because...

On May 12, 1943, having an ear-ache, excused from school, eleven year old Roger Goldman had been sent home at 1:40 p.m.

Expecting his mother to be napping, or out as she so often was when he came home from school; using his backdoor key, Roger let himself into the two bedroom apartment.

First going to the room that he, very unhappily, shared with his seven year old sister, then, upon hearing a strange, kind of whimpering sound coming from the far end of the apartment, approaching quietly, standing just outside the, not quite, closed door of his parents bedroom, looking through the crack, there...

Lying nude on the bed, his legs spread from side to side, was Manuel Berger: “Uncle” Manny, and...

Her back to him, though, of course he had never seen his mother naked, Roger knew it was his mother because of her long, black hair, and besides, who else would be on his mother’s bed?

On her haunches, her buttocks, rectum, and the hairy underside of her vagina open to her son’s view; positioned between “Uncle” Manny’s thighs, hunched over with her mouth on “Uncle” Manny’s...

Because even an eleven year old boy knows the guttural names for minimally two of the components of his body, most especially that component, Why’s mom kissin’ Uncle Manny’s prick? Roger had wondered naively. Then, because most eleven year old boys, at least in his school had seen at least one “eight pager”,  Holy cow! He thought disgustedly, She’s givin’ Uncle Manny “blow-job”! And, as he – also by courtesy of “eight pagers” – knew the guttural names of some female body components, most especially that component, Wow! he thought... But because she was his mother, he really didn’t want to look... But because he was eleven and curious and she was female and exposed, after-all, and, because he thought she was beautiful and he loved her, and especially loved being held to her bosom, at times Roger did wonder about his mother and, whenever the occasion presented itself, he would go out of his way to sneak a look at – the other known female component, or components – her “tits”, and, because then was the very first time he’d ever had the opportunity to see that, even if she was his mother, though repulsed at, one: That he’d caught his mother giving Uncle Manny a “blow-job”. Two: That his mother was naked. Three: That he was looking at his mother naked. Four: That even though he was repulsed by numbers one, two and three... I got a “boner”! So, hardly daring to breath, Roger did look and, Wow! he thought, that’s what a lady’s “cunt” looks like!

Later, consciously, Roger had tried to block the scene from his mind, but subconsciously couldn’t and after a nocturnal emission with his mother as, truly, “the girl of his dreams” – and a few emissions that were not nocturnal – that caused him a great amount of guilt that he juxtaposed as anger at his father because...

Roger truly believed, or wanted to believe that his father did not know about his mother otherwise, as a member of the male sex, Roger wondered, Otherwise why wouldn’t he kill her? Roger did,  nonetheless, blame Eli for allowing this to happen. But because of Myron, his very best friend who’s parents were divorced, who cried daily because of this, Roger refused to mention the incident with “Uncle” Manny to his father, or anyone else.