Mitchell had a need to know he was forgiven, and an urgent desire to know that Marsha still loved him.
Marsha, on the other hand, rarely apologized, seldom recognized the cause of the argument as hers, and was extremely slow in doling out forgiveness…
“Marcie, I’m, sorry!”
Silence.
“Come on, Marcie!”
Silence.
Rebuffed when attempting to put his arm about her. “I’m sorry! ”
Rebuffed when attempting to kiss her. “Please, baby, forget it!”
Silence.
Often the silence would carry into the next day and usually that night also, and sometimes into the next day and next night.
________________________________________________
Seagate, New York
August 20, 1956
“Mitchie.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, “Mitchie!” shaking his shoulder.
“Huh?” Lifting his head from the pillow, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
Sitting up, “Marcie,” turning the light on, squinting against the glare, glancing at the clock: 2:05 a.m., “what’s wrong?”
“Don’t know. I had to ‘go’ all day yesterday and now’s the third time I’ve gotten up to go tonight and whenever I make it hurts.”
Awoken from a sound sleep, trying to acclimate himself, “Whenever you make what?”
“All day yesterday and tonight I had to pee, and every time I make it burns there, bad! And now it hurts,” touching her lower back, “here, and I think I’ve got a fever.”
Putting his lips onto her warm, clammy forehead, “I think you’re right,” he said, kissing her there, “you may have a fever.”
“I’m scared. You think it has anything to do with the baby?”
Having no idea what it may be or if, indeed, it did have something to do with the baby. “No, of course not! But look, you don’t have to be at work till noon tomorrow, uh, today and…”
Open till nine p.m. on Mondays and Thursdays, four times a month Marsha had the late shift at Lord & Taylor, which meant on those days she did not have to be at work until noon, and this day, Monday, was one of those days.
“…you’ll go see your doctor.” Thinking a moment, “Tell you what, honey; I’ll take you there.”
“First off,” she said scornfully, “I don’t have a doctor! I have whatever doctor is available. And secondly, how? How are you going to get off?”
“I told you no one ever comes to Addressograph, and that Ruby said that if it’s in the middle of the month and we’re not busy it’s okay to take a day off every now and then. And it is the middle of the month and we’re not busy. And besides, in the three weeks I’ve been there he’s taken off twice and I haven’t had the nerve to do it even once yet. But taking you to see a doctor today seems like a pretty good excuse to me.”
“How’s about the car?”
“Ruby’ll pick it up and bring it back.”
“But aren’t you supposed to?”
“Yeah. But, Marcie, you think they even remember it’s me driving it in and bringing it back? So long’s I do my work they don’t even remember I’m alive. And believe me, no one gives a damn who drives the car just so long as it’s there in the morning and back at the garage at night.”
****
“Ruby, hi! Sorry to call so early.”
“It’s, emm, okay, Mitch.” Forcing himself awake, looking at the clock on his nightstand: 5:07, almost an hour before he usually got up. “What’s, uh, up, Mitch?”
“Marcie got sick last night and I want to take her to the doctor’s this morning, so how’s about picking up the Chevy and standing by for me today?”
“Sure! What’s wrong? Nothing serious, I hope.”
Looking at the closed bathroom door, “She’s been peeing her brains out and says it burns like hell whenever she does.”
“She have a pain in her back, in her lower back?”
“Yeah, in her back, by her side. How’d you know?”
“Sounds to me like a kidney infection.”
Amazed by this, “How the hell would you know?”
“How the hell would I know? My old man’s a doctor, that’s how the hell I’d know!”
“Marcie,” going to the bathroom door, “I got Ruby on the phone and I told him about you, and…”
“What do you do, Mitch, get on the phone and tell the whole world whenever I go to the toilet?”
Unable to tell if she was serious or joking, “No, but Ruby says it sounds like a kidney infection.”
“Yeah! How would he know?”
“Hold on, Ruby.” Pressing the phone to his chest, “Why wouldn’t he know?” Mitchell said to the closed door. “His dad’s a doctor, remember?”
“Of course!” Marsha said facetiously. “His father’s a doctor! How silly of me! Why wouldn’t he know?”
****
Wanting to beat the traffic, to say nothing of the line of patients when Public Health opened at eight—because Marsha had told him: “When you get there they give you a number.” Mitchell had thought of that, until now, as a gross exaggeration—they’d left Seagate at 6:15, driven to Manhattan and, even though they had arrived at the grungy, three story building well before 8:00, there were at least forty people standing in line in front of the locked double doors.
Now, sitting on a wooden bench, to their right was a Negro family, which, of course, he did not mind. To their left was a Mexican or Puerto Rican family, which, of course, he did not mind. But what Mitchell did mind, was that, yes, when they’d finally reached the lady at the front desk, she’d asked Marsha’s name and did, in fact, give her a cardboard chit with a number.
His face near hers, “Jesus Christ, Marsha,” whispering in her ear, “it’s terrible here!”
“See, I told you, but I didn’t think you really believed me.”
“Well, I sure as hell do now and I think…” taking her hand, turning the engagement ring so the diamond was facing the palm of her hand. “…it would probably be best if we don’t advertise these too much here.” Turning his palm up, he showed that his ring, also, was turned with the diamond to the inside.
“I hate it here, Mitchell!” Said in an accusatory tone, “And besides all this,” making a sweeping gesture, “the doctors are so damned young! The one that gave me my internal couldn’t have been much older than you, and that was the first time I’d ever had an internal examination! Hell, I’d have been nervous about it with Doc Schaffer, and he delivered me. Hey, Mitch, how do you like the idea of some guy that’s no older than… say your friend Norman, looking up my crotch! I hate it here more than you’ll ever know!”
“I’m sorry!” said apolitically, as though Mitchell Lipensky had anything to say about how it was at Public Health. “You know I’ve spoken to Frohlick about this, and you know he told me it’s only a matter of time till the new, uh, edict or decree or whatever the hell they call it comes through, and then the government’ll pay for any doctor you want to go to. We’ve just got to be patient.”
“We’ve just got to be patient, eh? Yeah, sure, Mitch!” she said angrily, then, smiling, “Only ‘Dennis the Menace’ ain’t looking up your box!”
“Forty-six! Forty -seven!”
Looking at the chit in her hand, then at the huge, masculine woman in a kind of white nurse’s uniform that stood in the doorway leading to the examination rooms, “That’s me, I guess,” Marsha said dejectedly. Handing Mitchell her purse, walking to the doorway, she gave the chit to the nurse, who then motioned for the two women standing before her to follow.
Marsha followed behind a fat, waddling, Latino type woman dressed in a stained cotton housedress, wearing a red and gold rayon scarf with a picture of “Christ on the cross” on her head.
In the examination room, pointing to one of two examination tables, speaking to the first woman, “¡Cuarenta Y seis, aqui!” the nurse went to the head of the stainless steel table and, reaching underneath, pulled the end of a roll of white paper to the foot, covering its length. Placing the woman’s folder at the head, “And you,” looking at Marsha, pointing to another table about six feet away, “number forty seven, here!” Repeating the process with the rolled paper, the nurse yanked a bisecting, opaque plastic drape across the straight slot in the ceiling. “Get undressed…” handing Marsha a sheet and an open backed, cotton hospital gown, “…and get into this!” Pulling another section of plastic drape around the curved slot in the ceiling, she completely, sort of, closed off the area making two, sort of, private examination areas. Parting the bisecting drape, the nurse stepped through and, giving the other woman a gown and sheet, repeated the order in Spanish.
Marsha had been sitting on the edge of the table with her legs dangling for ten minutes waiting for him and, Oh, God, she thought when the drape finally parted, he’s even got acne! Tightening her knees, glancing down to be sure the sheet was hanging below her bare feet, “Hi!”
“Hello, uh,” consulting the file folder, “Marsha. I’m Doctor Sobecki. How are we today?”
We! “I’ve had a pain in my back,” touching her lower back with her thumb, “and seem to have to urinate all the time, and when I do, it burns.”
“And we’re pregnant, are we?” Trying hard at a bedside manner, attempting to impress this unusually—for this place—attractive girl, his eyes lifting, “Besides that,” smiling, “how are you feeling, Marsha?”
“Besides that, fine, I guess.”
Going to the same shelf the gowns and sheets were on, taking a thermometer from an alcohol container, shaking it down, placing it beneath Marsha’s tongue, “Be right back.” Stepping through the drape, speaking in Spanish, Sobecki, presumably, asked the same “How are we” question to her neighbor.
Returning in a minute, taking the thermometer from Marsha’s mouth, looking at it, shaking it down, returning it to its alcohol bath, “Marsha,” placing the tips of his fingers onto her shoulders, he gently eased her to a supine position on the hard, cold table, “why don’t you just lay back.” Sensing her uneasiness, draping the sheet over her feet, holding her ankles above the sheet, bending her legs at the knees, Sobecki placed Marsha’s heels into the metal stirrups on either side of the table. Back at the shelf, lifting the metal top off a flat, rectangular glass alcohol container, removing a long, shiny, cylindrical instrument, going back to the table, sitting on a low stool, lifting the end of the sheet to…
Oh, God!
…her knees, noting her tensing, “Relax, Marsha,” he said softly. “I’m a doctor. I see women in this position all the time.”
Sure you do, Buster! Marsha thought, mentally comparing her thin body to that of the fat body of the woman on just the other side of the drape as…
Peering beneath the sheet, “This won’t hurt, Marsha.”
Closing her eyes tightly, expecting pain, wincing as she felt the cold, metal speculum enter her vagina, but as it did not hurt she did try to relax… until she felt the pressure as the young doctor expanded the instrument, along with her vagina… In a minute, breathing a sigh of relief, loosened, the speculum was removed.
Replacing the speculum, taking a latex finger sheath from a box, pulling it onto his left index finger, digging the finger into a bottle of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly, returning to the table, lifting the end of the sheet, reaching beneath, Sobecki inserted his finger into Marsha’s rectum and, pushing inward, probing upward, turning his wrist…
“Ow!”
“Sorry.” Withdrawing his finger, stripping the sheath off, tossing it into a garbage can beneath the sink, “We’re urinating more than usual, are we? And it burns?”
“Yes, Doc. A lot more.”
“Okay, Marsha, sit up.” Parting the rear of the gown, Sobecki placed the cold, smooth surface of his stethoscope against her back, moved it four times and, “Does it hurt here,” pushed with the tips of his fingers at a point on her lower back.
“Ouch! Yeah!”
“Okay.” Closing the gown, “As far as your pregnancy goes, everything’s just fine. But we do seem to have a kidney infection.”
****
“Yes, Mother, it’s a kidney infection.”
“And you’re not feeling well?”
“No, I’m not. As a matter of fact I felt so bad when we left Public Health that I couldn’t even go to work. Mitchell had to call for me to tell them I’m sick.”
Wincing at the words Public Health, “Marsha, if just half of what you tell me about that place is true , then, really, I don’t know how you can stand it there.”
“I have no choice, Mother, and like I told you, something’s supposed to happen real soon to change all that.”
“So you’ve told me, but it hasn’t yet!” Thinking a moment, then, “Listen to me, Marsha. Why don’t you come home tomorrow and…”
In pajamas, sitting at the kitchen table, “Mother, I…” Mitchell sat at the other side of the table listening to the conversation.
“No! I said you listen to me! You’re pregnant with your first child and you’re getting, at the very most, mediocre medical care… God!” Rhea said through clenched teeth, “I’ve never heard of such a thing! To not even know who’s going to deliver your baby! Marsha, fly home tomorrow! Have Doc Schaffer check you out. Stay the rest of the week, and coincidentally you’ll be here Saturday for Rosalie’s wedding, then you can go back to your husband knowing everything’s all right with both you and your baby.”
Looking at Mitchell, wishing he wasn’t in the room, “Mother, the money we brought with us from the wedding is about gone, and I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to keep working, and we definitely do not want to touch what you’ve put away for us!”
****
They had received quite a bit of money as wedding gifts: $5,160.00 to be exact, which Mitchell had suggested Rhea hold for them until he was discharged so when they returned to Chicago they’d have money for the down payment on a house in one of the fast growing, newer suburbs north or west of Skokie. But knowing they’d be needing a few things—a television; money for the initial purchase of groceries and odds and ends for the apartment, and also, because they weren’t taking a honeymoon, the newlyweds wanted “a few bucks,” so if they wanted to do something, or saw something they wanted, they’d have money to buy it—they had taken an even thousand dollars with them when they drove to New York the day after their wedding.
What they did not know was that, although Rhea did have the money for the formal wedding and the “cannot lose deal”—though she did plan on helping with the purchase of an engagement ring for her daughter—she did not have enough cash for both Marsha and Mitchell’s diamond engagement rings, which—to spite Myra and, in the only way she knew, make up to her daughter for the years of neglect—did not stop Rhea from buying both rings by using most of the stash of cash that had been earmarked for the…
As Morrie Jacobson had put it in his phone call a few weeks before Rhea, Myra and Marsha had visited “Sid,” Rhea’s “friendly” jeweler…
“It’s a cannot lose deal, Rhe!” Morrie had said. “Hardly anyone knows about it yet, but in two years they’re going to put the northwest toll road right through that shitty neighborhood and, among others, ‘Tax’ is going to foreclose on this crummy, rattrap building that’s smack dab in its path. The loan there’s assumable, so I thought, if you want, you can pick up the building for a song, and all you’ll need then is enough gelt to pull it out of foreclosure.”
Morrie had never steered Rhea wrong yet, so…
“How much is ‘a song,’ Morrie?”
“Thirty-two grand… But Rhe, you’ll be able to, at the very least, double your money when the city starts buying up those properties. And like I said, all you’ll need is a few thousand to cover the foreclosure…”
“How’s about the mortgage?”
“There’s twelve apartments. The rentals there’ll pay the mortgage.”
The wedding and diamond rings did set Rhea back a bundle, but she had been able to scrape up the $6,200 needed to cover the foreclosure… Because, unknown to them, Rhea had made her daughter and son-in-law partners by using every cent of their wedding money.
****
“Daddy misses you, and”—causing Marsha’s heart to skip a beat—“I do, too.” She’d never thought she would feel this way about her daughter. But it was true ; for some reason she did miss Marsha. “So what if I pay for the plane ticket,” Rhea said, “and Doc Schaffer, too.”
She did not want to leave her home or husband, however Marsha had waited all her life to hear her mother say something as affectionate as “I miss you.” So now, warmed by her mother’s unexpected concern and, yes, of course she’d like to be seen by Doc Schaffer, if for nothing more than the assurance that everything was, indeed, okay with her baby and herself. Also, needless to say, Marsha would love to be able to attend Rosalie’s wedding. And to attend the wedding pregnant yet! To be the very first within their group of friends to be pregnant!
“That’s so nice of you, Mother! Let me talk to Mitchell and I’ll call back in a little while.”
