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But as weeks passed and Mitchell did not rush to her, Marsha's twice a week conversations with her mother usually went like: “Have you heard from Mitchell, Mother?” And Rhea’s answer was as always: “No, Marsha. Outside of the money orders that come without a word, or the one time he came here, or when he talked to your brother, no one’s heard from him.”
Each time Marsha questioned her mother she became angrier at her husband for not caring enough to find a way to find her and his son, or, at the very least, to keep hounding the family until someone broke and told him where they were, and by this time Marsha’s stubborn nature had kicked into overdrive making her more determined than ever to stick it out till either Mitchell did come for her, or summer ended when she’ll have to make another decision. But at this time?
Screw him! If the son of a bitch doesn’t care enough to find Mikey and me, than just screw him!
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Skokie, Illinois
May 26, 1958: Memorial Day
“Mitchell, you haven’t heard from your wife?” Holding a paper plate with potato salad and a hamburger in one hand, dragging a tattered lawn chair with the other, Morris sat next to his grandson. “You still don’t know where your Marsha and baby are?”
Looking up from his paper plate—on a makeshift door and saw horse table—“No, Pa. I haven’t heard from my wife; but I’ve a pretty good idea where her’n’Mikey are.”
The rain of last week over, the day of Walter and Myra’s annual Memorial Day party had dawned beautifully.
“Nu, Mitchell? So if you know where your Marsha is, why don’t you go get her and your son?”
“Pa, Marsha left me for no goddamned reason! So I got drunk one time! So we argue! So everyone has arguments and their wives don’t pack up all their stuff and leave and not let their husbands know where they’ve gone… with his son! No, I’m not going to do a damn thing till she does!”
Biting into the hamburger, chewing a moment, “You’re sending her money, at least?”
Hot dog poised at his mouth, “I’ve still got all the old bills to pay, but sure, Pa, I’ve sent her… to her mother’s home, a money order for thirty bucks each week and I haven’t got any of them back, so I’d say they’re probably getting to her.” Biting into the hot dog, standing, “You want me to bring you some pop, or a beer?”
****
Lakeside, Michigan
As though yesterday’s storm had cleaned today, the radiant sun shone from a brilliant blue sky.
Pink and lavender buds of wild growing lilac and raspberry bushes had popped their immeasurable pods with their minute tips showing as barely seen dots upon a background of dark green foliage.
Seemingly overnight, millions of multi-coloured flowers had pushed through their nourishing cover of warm, moist soil that lined the lawns on both sides of the Old Road.
Selfishly hoping the storm would continue this day, having a compulsion to do so—possibly unwittingly as a punishment to herself for causing herself to be here alone—pushing the buggy along the Old Road, Marsha did her best not to notice the people that did come to the country to set up, and that were now, in midafternoon, having Memorial Day parties, and also not to smell the mouth watering odors of barbecuing hot dogs, hamburgers, chicken and spareribs.
Unfortunately, the beauty of the day only furthered her depression, and for the first time in recent memory Marsha actually missed her in-laws, because she knew that today Walter and Myra were having the first of their two annual cookouts. Marsha did not have to close her eyes to see the scene…
Skokie, Illinois
Automobiles lined all three sides of the triangular lot. All the neighbors had been invited to the party because in order to get to or from their garages they had to squeeze between their hedges and the fenders of parked Oldsmobile’s, Chevrolets and Buicks.
Completely out of character, Walter, wearing a white apron and a starched chef’s hat, spent the best part of the afternoon at the Weber Barbeque cooking hot dogs and hamburgers as his wife made continuous trips from the yard to the house replenishing dishes of homemade potato salad, coleslaw and green salad, plus bread, rolls, pickles, tomatoes, cake, cookies, and whatever else was needed or wanted.
A flat topped, four foot high, eight foot long shed that was attached to the rear wall of the house by lag bolts served as the buffet and bar. A galvanized, ice filled wash tub sat beneath a shade tree containing ginger ale, seltzer, beer and pop of all flavours’. Cricket ran back and forth attached to a lead on a pulley that ran along a high placed cable stretched between two widely spaced trees near the rear of the lot.
A bottle of beer in his hand, Mitchell was talking to…
Lakeside, Michigan
“Oh, God!”
She missed him! Them!
Holding back tears, “Mikey, come on, let’s go home.” Not wanting to go one step further, unwilling to see one more happy family, turning the buggy around, Marsha retraced her steps back to the lonely cove and empty cottage.
Skokie, Illinois
“Hey, Cuz, look at you! You’re sooo skinny!”
Mitchell Lipensky may have been called a number of things throughout his life, but skinny was definitely not one of them.
“Sandy, hi!” Hugging his cousin as best he could, “And look at you! You’re sooo big! Looks like that kid’ll pop out any second.”
“Yeah,” rubbing her stomach, “‘that kid’ should’a popped out five days ago.” Seeming a bit uncomfortable, “So, Mitch,” Sandra asked, “you hear from her lawyer yet?”
“No, and that kind’a gives me hope. I think this is just some kind of a stupid game she’s playing and when she’s ready, I’ll be hearing from her and she’ll come back.”
“Ever find out where she went?”
“Her folks have a cottage in Lakeside…”
“Near Union Pier?”
“Yeah. She likes it there a lot, and I can’t imagine where else they’d have gone.”
“If I were you, Cuz, I’d go there and find out.”
Growing tired of explaining himself, “Sandy, first of all Marsha started this and she’s going to have to make the first move! Besides, I don’t know where their place is and I don’t have any intention of calling her family to find out because I don’t think they’d tell me. Also, I don’t want her thinking I’m that interested.”
“But your baby, Mitchie! Don’t you miss your baby?” Noting the look of pain that came to his face, putting her hand on his arm, “I’m sorry, Mitchie, of course you do!”
“Mitch!”
“Oh, hi.” Unenthusiastically shaking hands with Marvin Marcus, Sandra’s brother and his older cousin.
“So, j’ya hear from the bitch yet?”
Remembering: “You’re a coward!” Remembering: “You never defend me!”
“Listen, Marvin,” straightening his back, clenching his fists, moving closer, “she’s still my wife!”
“Okay, take it easy!” Backing up a step. “I didn’t mean anything. So, you hear from her yet?”
“No, Marvin,” he said tiredly. “I haven’t heard from Marsha yet.”
“Tell you what I’d do if I were you, Cuz…”
Mitchell had no interest whatsoever in what Marvin Marcus could or would do.
“I’d go out and,” whispering, “fuck anything that walks.”
“Yeah, Marvin, I’m sure you would. Thanks for the advice… Look, I gotta give my mom a hand shlepping stuff.”
Debating with himself whether to have another beer or a drink, but the night with the bottle of Haig & Haig still a vivid memory, remembering how sick he’d been, the thought of hard liquor made him slightly ill, so digging through the cracked ice…
“’Ey, Lippy!”
Looking up, smiling, “Uncle, Shel, hi!” Reaching into the galvanized tub, coming up with two cans of Millers, he handed one to Sheldon.
Taking the can, Sheldon jerked his thumb towards the groupings of people scattered throughout the yard. “Some shindig!”
“Yeah, if there’s one thing my folks know how to do, it’s throwing a backyard party.”
“Everyone wants to know what’s happening with you, eh?”
“Yeah.” Sipping at the can, “They’re family, most of them, and I guess they’re concerned, but it gets to be a pain in the ass.”
“I guess it does.” Lifting the can to his mouth, lowering it without drinking, “Mitch, I thought you’d like to know… You know, when I hired you I really didn’t think you’d be able to cut it. But Tony’s told me—and don’t tell him I told you—you work your ass off and you’re one of his best guys.”
“Yeah, sure,” smiling wanly. “Guess that’s my nitch in life, Uncle Shel, to be a shlepper.”
But knowing someone thought he was good at something, even if it was just shlepping, overcame the lonely, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach… somewhat.
Lakeside, Michigan
May 27 through June 15, 1958
As a child, God did not grant Marsha Goldman her prayer because the days between the time school ended and Labor Day chugged by as quickly as the shadow of a train between telephone poles.
But now, as an adult, not only did Marsha Lipensky get what she’d told her mother she wanted: time to think—because she did have time to think, a whole lot of time! But also, finally, God did grant Marsha Goldman Lipensky her childhood prayer, because now her days did go slowly… very, very slowly.
Skokie, Illinois
Anxiously rushing home from work each day, “Hi!” Mitchell would yell from the door.
“Anything for me?”
“Nope!” Lawrence or Morton or whoever was home or whoever brought the mail in yelled back, “Nothin’ today, Mitchie!”
After moving from Winchester, he’d had his mail directed to the house in Skokie, and on the one hand he was happy because he hadn’t received an unwanted letter from her lawyer. On the other hand, he was disappointed because yet another day had passed and he hadn’t received a letter from his wife.
“Thanks,” he’d say and go upstairs to take a shower, but…
His work as a shlepper caused the days to pass quickly and, completely exhausted, Mitchell’s nights were spent in the black void of deep sleep.
Lakeside, Michigan
The Invisible Woman
Marsha thought, I’ve become the invisible woman!
No one seemed to see her. No one seemed to notice her.
On the beach, men did see her: a tall, tan, beautiful young woman… with a baby, and they left Marsha to herself.
The older single and married women saw her also, but as a lone, tall, tan, beautiful young woman with a baby, without a husband… and, considering her as a threat of sorts, they too left Marsha to herself.
