The Girls
Chicago, Illinois
June, 18, 1949
They walked two blocks south and one east to Sixty-sixth and Rockwell. The entire block consisted of weather-beaten, two-story frame houses, some of which had been converted to small apartments: one up and one down. Stopping five houses from the corner, “This is it,” Frank said. Its paint, whatever color it may have been, was now faded, blistered and peeling.
Looking at the structure, God, Mitchell thought, what a terrible place to live. “This is where your girlfriend lives?” he asked.
Taking the steps two at a time, “Yeah,” Frank knocked on the door.
Following him, standing alongside Frank, Mitchell heard the muffled sound of a radio, then echoing footsteps on a hardwood floor…
The door opening, “Hi, Frankie!” the girl looked from Frank To Mitchell.
“Hi’ya, Lisa!” Turning to Mitchell, “Mitchie, this here’s my girlfriend, Lisa.” Turning back, “Lisa, this is my pal, Mitchell.”
Thinking, She’s cute, “Hi, Lisa,” he said, “nice to meet’ch’ya.”
Fourteen years old, on the short side, slightly overweight, much of the girl’s weight was around her hips and bust—just the way Mitchell liked girls. She had a dark complicated round face with clear, smooth skin. Cut into bangs to help cover a wide forehead, Lisa’s hair was jet black. Widely set over a small nose, her large eyes were dark brown. When she met Mitchell she smiled, showing small, even teeth. The girl wore a short-sleeved white blouse and a dark-blue, calf-length skirt with white bobby socks and black, patent leather shoes. A small, silver crucifix hung from around her neck.
“Hi, Mitchie! Frankie’s talked so much about you I feel like we’re friends already… Please, come in.”
“Me, too. Thank you.”
She led the boys down a long hallway, past two closed doors into a large, sunny living room.
Considering the structure’s deteriorated exterior, the apartment was surprisingly clean and orderly.
The girl sat on a green, slip-covered sofa. “Hi’ya, Frankie.” Standing, nodding her head, she looked expectantly at Mitchell.
“Gina,” Frank said, “this here’s my friend, Mitchell… Mitchie, this is Gina.”
Feeling awkward, thinking, She’s ugly! Hoping the disappointment he felt wasn’t too apparent, knowing he should step forward, offer his hand and say hello, or something… but standing, as though rooted, Mitchell muttered a barely heard, “Hi.”
“Jeeze, Mitchie, I never knew you was so bashful.” Poking him in the back, Frank propelled him forward.
Coming closer, forcing a smile, holding his right hand forward, “Uh, Frank’s told me all about you.”
Which seemed to be the wrong thing to say because, shooting Frank an angry look, forcing a smile, Gina haltingly took Mitchell’s hand, pumped it once then released it, leaving both outstretched arms hanging, self-consciously, in mid-air.
If Lisa was a bit overweight, than this girl was completely the opposite.
Tall, almost as tall as Mitchell and, Olive Oyl, reed thin. She looks like Olive Oyl! Instantly bringing the picture of Olive Oyl from the Popeye comic strip to mind. Wearing the same blouse, skirt and shoes that Lisa wore, obviously a uniform from some parochial school, whereupon Lisa’s neck hung a small silver crucifix, upon Gina’s neck hung a huge wooden crucifix. Probably to keep vampires away, Mitchell thought. That’s if any vampire would want to put his teeth into that neck. Gina’s pasty complexion accentuated the shadow of grime that went from behind her ears and down and around her chin, and there were streaks from dribbling water that ran beneath her chin and down her neck. When she smiled Mitchell noticed, Jesus… the upper portions of her front teeth had a greenish tinge… she’s got green teeth! Also noticed, when she turned her head, She don’t clean her ears too good, there’s wax in Gina’s ears. As though she had tried and failed to dye her hair a lighter color, her short cut, dark brown hair has a brassy sheen. Gina’s eyebrows had been plucked to a near nonexistent line then heavily penciled over. To add to this, as far as Mitchell was concerned, rather unappetizing picture, the girl has a long, thin nose with a red blemish midway up the sharp ridge.
But, yes, Gina did have two noticeably redeeming features. Of lesser importance, she had beautiful, light-blue eyes. Of primary importance, noticing the two outward-pointing points, Gina did have breasts. Gina’s breasts appeared to be rather small beneath the formless, white parochial school blouse, but yes, they were definitely breasts, and, yes, they were definitely there.
Unaware that in the few seconds they’d been standing, facing each other, Mitchell had assessed the multitude of her bad points and, in his mind, her primary two good points, which were not her eyes.
“Hi, Mitch,” Gina said, “glad to meet’ch’ya.” Doing a bit of assessing herself, unlike Mitchell, though, Gina liked everything she saw. “Frank’s been talkin’ bout’ch’ya for years now. Come on, sit down!” Back-stepping around the coffee table in front of the sofa, sitting in the near-exact middle, she patted the seat to her right
Going to the sofa, he sat, too, but rather than immediately to the right, Mitchell sat to the left of Gina, on the far end, as far to the end as possible.
Holding hands, Frank and Lisa sat with their legs crossed on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table.
Nobody spoke.
No one seemed to know how to get the conversation started.
Mitchell stared at his hands, which were resting one on each knee. After a few seconds his fingers began a nervous, systematic tapping.
A breeze blowing through the open window caused the white, lacy curtains to flutter inward.
Three sets of eyes darted back and forth, from one to the other as Mitchell sat, looking at his tapping fingers, till…
“Shit!” Gina said, breaking the silence. “Was today ever a hot day!” Reaching under the skirt of the sofa, searching a moment, she pulled out a package of Camels. “I thought school would never end!”
The three watched as Gina sophistically pushed a cigarette upward from the bottom of the package, pulled it out with her teeth, tapped it on the back of her hand, stuck it between her lips, struck a match, took a deep drag… and started to cough and began to gag and had to run out of the room, into the toilet.
Turning to Lisa after he heard the door slam shut, “Uh,” Mitchell asked, “did I hear her say that you two had school today?”
“Yeah. You public-schoolers got out a week ago, but, oh, no, not us kids that go to Catholic school! Us, they give an extra week an’ just got out today… Ain’t we lucky?”
“No!” Thinking she was serious, “I don’t think that’s too lucky at all. Is that why you’n’Gina’s wearin’ the same kind’a clothes, ’cause’a school? They’re some kind’a uniform?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Yeah? What school?”
“Immaculate Heart.”
“You like it? Going there?”
“No! I hate it! I’d much rather go to school with Frankie.” Looking at Frank a moment, Lisa kissed his cheek. “You’d like it if me’n’you went to school together, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said sincerely, “you know I would!”
“Don’t know why I smoke that shit.” Returning to the room, dropping onto the sofa, but closer to Mitchell, “It always makes me puke,” Gina said. “So, Mitch, how do you like this shitty neighborhood? Kind’a shitty, huh?” Angling her body in his direction, exposing her knee and about four inches of the bare flesh of her inner thigh, lifting her skirt, she folded her left knee beneath her right leg.
He looked down, and up again, quickly, “It ain’t so bad,” and down again. “I’ve seen worse.” Though in truth he hadn’t.
Inching closer, “Where do you live?” Gina asked.
“Uh,” Looking at the smooth, white flesh of her inner thigh, “on the west side, on Homan, uh, near Ogden.” and up, into her beautiful blue eyes.
