Chicago, Illinois
Saturday, August 25, 1956
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Hesitating, not sure she’d heard what she thought and hoped she had heard, Marsha sat stock still, then, turning, their eyes coming into contact, “Mitchie!” Pushing the chair back, standing so suddenly that were he not there the chair would have toppled over. “Mitchie! Oh, my God!” Tears coming to her eyes…
Tears coming to both their eyes, they embraced.
“Marcie, I love you! I’m sorry,” he said into her ear, “I’m so sorry I said all those dumb things!”
“Oh, God, I love you, Mitchie! Me, too! I’m sorry, too!”
“Hey, you two…”
A moment into their ardent kiss, Mitchell felt a tugging on the bottom of his tunic.
“…better break it up,” Rhea said. “Everyone’s watching.”
Reluctantly releasing his wife, standing back, he saw Marsha in a maternity dress for the first time. _____________________________________________________________________
Turning to Rhea, “Hi, Mom!” kissing his mother-in-law on the cheek. “Hi, Dad,” shaking Eli’s hand. Going to the other side of the table, kissing Ida and Maxine, he shook Stanley’s hand.
“Mitchie, this is Mister and Mrs. Baich.”
“Hi,” smiling at Mrs. Baich. “Don’t get up.” Shaking her husband’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Sir.”
Standing anyway, “The name’s Howard,” he said. “And this is my wife, Marilyn… She never said,” glancing at Marsha, “that you were in the navy… Why don’t you sit down.” Moving his dish and glass to the empty space on the other side of his wife, he made room for Mitchell alongside of Marsha.
“Thank you.” Sitting, he took Marsha’s hand. “But I’m in the Coast Guard.” Lifting his right arm, he showed Howard the Coast Guard shield sewn on the sleeve.
“Would you believe,” Rhea said, “this is the first time any of us, except Marsha, have ever seen him in uniform.”
“Yeah,” smiling, “and you wouldn’t see me in it now, except I didn’t have anything else dressy enough to wear tonight.”
“Hey,” punching him on the shoulder, “you scared the hell out of me! I’ve been calling you all day. You should have called to tell me you’re coming.”
“Ouch!” Smiling broadly. “You still got bony knuckles.” Rubbing his shoulder, “Marcie, I made the decision at five-thirty this morning…” whispering in her ear, “and didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me, let alone see me.”
Whispering back, “Talk to you? I’ve been going nuts wanting to talk to you!”
“And besides,” speaking in a normal tone, “it was only four-thirty here and I didn’t want to wake your whole house.”
“Have you eaten?”
Looking at his mother-in-law, “Yeah, if you call two packages of cupcakes and one of Twinkies eating.”
“Young man!” A passing waiter stopped. “My son-in-law just got here. Could you bring him…” Looking at Mitchell, “You want chicken, fish or roast beef?”
“Roast beef. Rare if possible, please.”
“Your mother! Have you called your mother?”
“No, Marcie, of course not. I just got here. Why?”
“I started calling you very early today, and when I couldn’t reach you I called your mom to see if she’d heard from you, and between her and me, outside of going to the beauty shop, the two of us have been trying to reach you all day and I knew whenever the line was busy it was your mother and me calling at the same time.” Standing, Marsha urged him to his feet. “Come on! We’d better find a phone and call her right now or she’ll kill both of us!”
The last thing Mitchell wanted to do was to walk across this room again, and, although he felt absolute pride in Marsha, he also felt the prickling sensation of shyness, especially in his “stand out like a sore thumb” white uniform.
Having been best friends since they were children, Marsha knew most of Rosalie’s family and, holding Mitchell’s hand, smiling, nodding to everyone she knew, she, too, felt all eyes on them. But, rather than shyness, Marsha felt pride… and more than a bit decadent because, obviously pregnant, holding the hand of the best looking man in the room, who just happened to be, obviously, a sailor, proud of the picture they projected, mentally, the young woman’s chin tilted a notch upward.
Finding a telephone booth in the lobby, fishing in his pocket for a nickel, “What if she wants us to sleep over?”
“You’re A.W.O.L., aren’t you?”
“No, not this weekend, but I will be on Monday. But Ruby’ll cover for me… Uh, you do plan on coming back with me?”
“Don’t be stupid!” Putting her arms about his neck, “Of course I’m going home with you!”
“God, baby, those are the nicest words I’ve heard since Monday… I love you! I’ve missed you so much!” Hugging her tightly, feeling the twin points of pressure on his chest, his body, as always, responded. “And you’re so damned cute in that maternity dress I just want to eat you!” Said figuratively, and most literally.
“Mitchie,” feeling the one point of pressure against her thigh, “we’re going to have to go back tomorrow!”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured: If all goes well with us, we’ll have breakfast with my family, if that’s okay with you, then head back.”
“Then tonight’s the only time you’ll have with your family. I haven’t had time to see them yet, but I’d really like to see the boys, so don’t wait for your mother to ask, you tell her we want to sleep over tonight, and that we’ll stay here just a little while longer, then we’ll stop off at ho… at my folks place to get my things then head straight on to Skokie.”
****
“Mom, hi!”
“Mitchell!” Myra shrieked in the phone. “Where are you!?” Her voice tinged with anger and relief, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure, Mom, I’m fine! I’m…”
Now, just with anger, “Do you know that your wife and I… Walter, wait!…have been trying to reach you all day!”
“Yeah, Mom, I…”
“I’ve been worried sick about you! …Yes, Walter! … And your father has, too!”
“Mom, stop a sec…”
“Your father was so worried that he didn’t even go out on the boat today! And you know I’d have to be dying for him to stay away from his farshtinkener boat on a Saturday!”
“Mom, stop a minute! Listen! I’m here!”
“You’re here? … Your son says he’s here, Walter!” When Myra was angry with Mitchell, he became Walter’s son. “What do you mean here?”
“Here. In Chicago, Mom. With Marsha, at Rosalie’s wedding.”
“Walter, your son says he’s with his wife at Rosalie’s wedding.”
In the background Mitchell heard, “Let me talk to him!”
“Mitchell, where the hell are you?”
“Dad, hi,” he sighed. “I’m here, in Chicago.”
“What do you mean, you’re in Chicago?”
“Dad,” said tiredly, “Marsha wanted to see her old doctor…”
“Yes, that I know!”
Speaking to Marsha, “Remind me to tell you something important when I’m done.”
“Me? You want to tell me something when we’re done?”
“No, Dad!” Looking skyward, to God for help, “I’ve got something to tell Marsha.”
“You talking to me or your wife? If me, talk to me!”
“I am talking to you, Dad. Marsha wanted to see her family doctor and…”
“Yeah! Yeah, we know that! So why are you here?”
Looking at Marsha, shaking his head, rolling his eyes, “I woke up at four this morning with the idea of surprising Marsha and drove here so I could be at Rosalie’s wedding with her.” Expecting to be interrupted again, speaking quickly, “It was too early then to call anyone in Chicago and I didn’t think anyone would call me and get worried.”
“Your son…”—when he was angry at Mitchell, he was Myra’s son—“…says he wanted to surprise his wife,” Walter said to Myra.
“Yeah! And she’s going back with me, and I’ve got to be back on Monday, so we’ve got to leave tomorrow morning.”
Speaking to Myra: “He’s got to be back on Monday, so they’re leaving tomorrow morning… Here, Mitchell, your mother wants to talk to you.”
“Mitchell, you drove all the way here for one day?”
“Actually, for one night, but…”
“You’re going back tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, but…”
“We’re not going to see you or your wife?”
“Mom, no! I mean yes! You are going to see me—us! Marsha and I want to sleep in Skokie, then in the morning we’ll have breakfast with you guys then start back to New York.”
“Walter,”—no longer angry at her son—“Mitchell and his wife want to sleep here tonight, have breakfast with us, then go back to New York.”
“Good,” Mitchell heard his father say in the background. “Glad to hear it.”
“You want to sleep in the den or your old room?”
Now came a quandary: The den was one thin wall away from his parents’ bedroom, and what they’d have to sleep on there—along the wall that separated his parents’ bedroom from the den—was an L-shaped, Danish modern sofa with foam rubber cushions that could be pushed alongside each other.
But, in favor of the den, the floor was carpeted.
The upstairs, front bedroom had been his while his brothers shared the back bedroom.
When he enlisted and left home his bedroom became Larry’s.
In his old bedroom he and Marsha would have the close comfort of either of two twin beds with a moderately good Sears mattress.
Problem was, the beds upstairs were on casters, on a linoleum floor that Mitchell well remembered transmitted every movement with a grinding squeak… And he most definitely planned on making love to his wife on this night. But trying to have sex on a bed with casters that you knew with absolute certainty were going to squeak like hell… But right next door to his parents’ bedroom? The upstairs bedrooms had doors, of course. But inside the rooms were separated by a long, narrow walk-in/through closet without doors on either end… And Mitchell knew that if either or both of his younger brothers were interested—and he knew, also with absolute certainty, that at their age… hell, even at his age now, he’d certainly be interested in someone else’s sex life—they, at the very least, would listen to every rustle of the bedding, to every moan, and every squeak of the bed. But right next to your parents? And another thing: As much as he wanted to lay close to his wife on this night and to feel the warmth of her body, and even though he was young and when one is young, seemingly, one can go on forever, on this long day, however, even then—even as he held the phone to his ear talking to his mother—this long day was beginning to catch up with Mitchell and, starting to feel the weight of his eyelids, the thought of trying to sleep with another person on the narrow confines of a Danish modern sofa, even if you are horny as hell, even if the door to the room could be shut, even though it was fully carpeted… A thought coming to him…
“My old room, Mom.”
****
“Mitchie, before, when you were talking to your parents…”
Having eaten, dancing their one slow, perfunctory dance before leaving the wedding, his eyes closed, feeling the prod of Marsha’s breasts upon his chest, also, both hands on the rise of her slight buttocks, even though by now he knew every curve and crevice of this young woman, even though he was married to this young woman, Mitchell wondered at the fact that, even then, even after eight months of marriage, how the mere contact of her fully clothed body against his fully clothed body could still bring about the same sense of mysterious excitement it had the first time he’d held her in his arms and felt Marsha’s, then unknown body next to his… How could just the closeness of Marsha still bring about the same urgent passion? And also… How in the world was he ever going to be able to walk back to the “friends and family of friends” section with a very obvious boner pushing against the front of his very white uniform pants?
“Mitchie, before, when you were talking to your parents, you asked me to remind you about something important.”
“What?” Bringing his mind away from the state of his penis, thinking a moment, “Oh, yeah!”
Sorry, but yet happy she’d broken the spell, loosening their close body contact, looking at her, “After your plane took off, on Friday, when I got back to headquarters, Commander Frohlick… Remember, he’s in charge of personnel?”
Marsha nodded her head.
“Jesus, I thought it was so ironic that it would happen then! Well, Frohlick called to tell me that it’s been approved and you can use any doctor we… you want.”
“That’s wonderful, Mitchie! Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“When we…” Sensing it, nonetheless, glancing downward, seeing the protrusion no longer there, glad to be talking, “When we talked that one time, on Wednesday, I was being really stupid and didn’t think about it, and earlier tonight I just forgot.”
“Monday,” Marsha said, “as soon as we get back, I’m going to talk to Grace.”
Grace Weiner, their next door neighbor, had recently had a baby. Lou, her husband, was an intern in a hospital in Brooklyn.
Having explained earlier that they were going to sleep in Skokie then leave directly from there, “Mother, Daddy…” the dance through, “Mitchell is very tired so we’re going to leave now.”
“Sure, kids.” Feeling his loneliness for Marsha and his unborn grandchild, but knowing Mitchell had less than a year left to his enlistment and that then they’d be home for good, able to hide his heartache at saying goodbye, standing, hugging, kissing his daughter, turning to Mitchell, “You drive carefully now, you hear.” Forcing a smile, Eli opened his arms to his son-in-law.
Mitchell had a great fondness for this gentle man, and an even greater sorrow for the lonely, loveless life he imagined Eli must lead, so gladly accepted and returned the warm embrace.
****
Knowing exactly what would happen the moment they were alone—not that she wouldn’t welcome it—but aware of his weariness, “Mitch, honey, wait downstairs for me, will you?” Marsha was anxious to get to the home of her in-laws.
“Nah, come on, I’ll help you pack.” Thinking they could have at least a bit of time here, where they would be alone, was the reason he’d chosen the semiprivate bedroom rather than the den.
“Please, baby! We left the apartment a mess,” she lied, “and mother would really be embarrassed if you saw it that way.”
“So, who’s going to tell her?”
“Mitchie, please!”
Recognizing the tone of her voice, “Okay, Marsha.” Too tired to argue, “I don’t know why,” disappointment sounding in his voice, stopping in the no parking zone directly in front of the building, “but if that’s what you want, then okay.”
When Marsha returned fifteen minutes later, she made two trips dragging her suitcases from the elevator in the lobby to the car herself because, his head reclining on the back of the seat, Mitchell was asleep.
