Good Old Uncle Morrie

Seagate, New York

July 3, 1956

“God, Mitchell! I’m on the toilet! Can’t you get the phone?”

“Sorry, Marcie, I was, uh, busy.”
            “Yeah, I know!” she said through the closed door. “ ‘The Mickey Mouse Club’! Get the phone!”

“Okay, already!” Answering on the fifth ring, “Hello.”

“Mitchell, you’ve a one room apartment!  What takes so long to answer the phone?”

“Sorry, Mom. Marcie’s on the...”

The phone hanging on the wall directly opposite the bathroom door, “Jesus!” Marsha yelled, trying to suppress laughter. “You going to tell the whole world I’m on the toilet?”

“It ain’t ‘the whole world’, it’s your mother... Mom, she’s, uh,” smiling, “on the toilet, and I was a little busy.”

“Yes, Mitchell, I know.” Rhea said teasingly. “Marsha told me how her big, strong sailor rushes home to watch The Mickey, Mouse Club.”

Laughing, “Yeah, I do!” Thinking,  Jeeze, A guy can’t even watch the friggin' Mickey Mouse Club anymore!

“Well tell your wife to get off, or get out; I’ve got some news for you kids.”

It had been almost two weeks since the clandestine conversation with Rhea, and since then he’d been fending off an almost constant barrage of questions from Marsha about the secret he and her mother share and, for a guy with the reputation of never being able to keep a secret, it hadn’t been easy, because on three separate occasions Marsha had rolled onto him and tickled him to death, but he didn’t tell.  Once the inside doorknob fell off and she pulled the handle shaft through and he was stuck inside the toilet and she wouldn’t let him out till he told, but he didn’t.  And once and – oh, yeah, that had been the toughest – during sex he had been poised to ‘enter’ when, shoving him off, squeezing her thighs together, “You’d better tell!”  Mitchell began to laugh so hard his erection reversed and he ended up rushing to the toilet to have a bowel movement... But, for some unknown reason, he did not tell.

“Mom, does this have something to do with what you told me about, uh, you know...”

“You’ll know in a minute. Now, I want to talk to my daughter!”

Thinking, Shit! Why’d she tell me what she told me when she didn’t want me to say nothin’ to no-one, and now, when it’s okay to say something to someone, she don’t want to tell me anything!  “Yeah, Okay!” He said, “She’ll be... off in a minute.” But couldn’t help but laugh when he said, purposely loud enough for anyone passing in the hallway to hear, “Marcie, get your butt off the toilet! Your mother wants to talk to you!”

“Mitchell,” came the voice from the other side of the door, “I’m going to kill you!” But really, Marsha was laughing, too. “Tell her I’ll be right out.”

Hearing the toilet-paper roller squeak in its brackets, “She’ll be right out... So, how’s Dad?”

“He’s fine, Mitchell... Don’t you ever have anything to say to me but, ‘how’s Dad’?”

“Yeah, sure I do!” Thinking a moment, “How’s you?”

The door opening, relieved, he handed the phone to Marsha, whom, grabbing it from his hand, curling her upper lip, scowling at him comically, “Mother, hi!”

“Marsha, I’ve...”

 “Yes, Mother,” Marsha said, “don’t worry about my husband; later on they’re coming with a big net to take him away.  He’s an idiot!”

Leaning against the bathroom door-jam, crossing his eyes, Mitchell stuck his tongue out at her.

Repeating patiently, “Marsha, I’ve got some good news for you!”

“This anything to do with the secret between you and the idiot, Mother?”

“ ‘Secret’? I didn’t have any secret with ‘the idiot’.”

Sitting on a kitchen chair, “Okay, Mother, you tell me your news first then,” reaching for his hand, “I’ve got some really good news, too!” Smiling, looking at him, Marsha saw his eyebrows knit in question.

“Marsha, you remember ‘Uncle Morrie’?”

The smile leaving Marsha’s face, her voice becoming cold, “Yes, Mother,” she said sarcastically, “I certainly remember, ‘Uncle Morrie’!”

Hearing the change in the tone of  her voice, putting his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head upward, “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Recognizing the icy tone of her daughter’s voice, “Marsha,” Rhea said irately as, attempting to hide her guilt, trying, as always, to cover her guilt with a façade of anger – Rhea did feel guilt! At least as much guilt as she’d allow, but yet, unwilling to admit to it all, not even to herself – “Morrie Jacobson,” she said indignantly, “did something  for you and your husband that no one else that I know of could possibly have done!  Now,  do you want to come off your high-horse and listen? Or should I hang up and call Morrie and tell him to forget it?” Though Rhea might feel remorse, she sure didn’t show remorse.

“No, Mother, I’m...” starting to say ‘sorry’, but really wasn’t. “No, Mother, tell me now, please.”

Trying to recapture the positive feeling she’d had a minute ago, “Okay,” Rhea said, “Morrie does ‘things’ for a lot of the politicians around town and has some big connections... Well, he got to Senator Dirksen’s  press secretary and told him about Mitchell...

Now having some idea of what her mother had been up to, not putting it past her, cutting Rhea off, “Told him what about Mitchell?” she asked excitedly.

“About me?” Poking himself in the chest with his thumb, “What about me?” 

“ Shhh!” ‘Shushing’ him, Marsha said nothing.

“And...” Rhea went on. “Are you sitting, Marsha?”

Having some idea, her stomach jumping, “Yes, Mother, I’m sitting.”

If built of shale, one thin layer in the mountain of her guilt might well have been removed as, “Mitchell should be getting orders by Friday,” Rhea said. “He’s being transferred to an office job in the city.

Quiet a moment, letting it sink in, “Mother! Really? You did that?”

“No, Marsha,” she said as sarcastically as her daughter had a minute ago. “ Uncle Morrie did that!”

Mitchell had thought about it ever since Rhea had told him that, maybe, it might happen, “What’s happening?” But because, really, it seemed too good to be true , “What the hell’s happening?” he never really thought it would happen. “Will you please tell me what’s happening?”

“Mitchie, mother’s got a... uh, friend... Oh, God, this is too good to be true ... that’s been able to get you transferred into an office job.”

Wondering, Who the hell’s she know?  “She pulled it off!” Again wondering, What the hell kind of  'pull' does she have?