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“You say you’ve got to go downtown, then you’re going to see your, uh, Elizabeth.”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“You’ll be home for dinner?”
“I’ll call to let you know, Mom.”
Another of those exclamation/questions: “You’ll sleep here tonight!?”
Sleeping with Elizabeth, spending a full night with Elizabeth, a heretofore unfulfilled dream, “I’ll let you know when I call, Mom. And do me a favor, will you?”
What’s that?” Walter asked.
“Don’t say anything to anyone else about this yet, please.”
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Chicago, Illinois
November 14, 1963
The Other Woman…
In the shower, I’m “the other woman”! Warm water cascading over her body, thoughts bombarding her mind. I’m the other woman now! Before, when it was only Mitchell and me and nobody knew about us, I never thought of myself as “the other woman.” But now his wife knows and his parents know and I’m sure by the end of today everyone that knows him and Marsha will know that I’m the terrible “other woman.”
Knowing her life was about to drastically change: On the one hand, the unbelievable having happened! Truly amazed that after five years of loving, of desiring and dreaming of spending her life with Mitchell as husband and wife, the dream was now in the process of becoming true .
On the other hand, though, realism setting in; distressed at the thought of herself as “the other woman,” as a “home wrecker,” as the woman responsible for the breakup of a family with three young children.
Also, the financial obligation she’d committed to: “I work too, you know! I’m paying rent here and I’ll keep paying the rent here! And with both of us working money’s not going to be all that much of a problem. Don’t worry,” Elizabeth recalled saying. “We’ll get along just fine!” Further thinking, For how long? If Marsha ever marries the alimony will end…if she ever remarries! But even so, there’s three kids to support for eighteen years… Forever!
Out of the shower, standing nude before the mirror brushing her hair, seeing—although, much worse in the remembrance of her image, much worse in the eye of her imagination then in actual sight—seeing. Whenever nude, Elizabeth would look disgustedly at the droop of her breasts, at the width of her hips and buttocks, at the translucent stretch marks that crossed her stomach, breasts and thighs, that Mitchell, truthfully, said he never cared about or actually no longer noticed.
However, always seeing herself as a fat girl, Elizabeth, very mistakenly, did not believe that Mitchell never cared about, or no longer noticed her—in her exaggerated opinion—ugly stretch marks. Nor did Elizabeth believe that the sight of her “fat girl” body was, as Mitchell had repeatedly told her, the body he’d dreamt of making love to his whole life! That he really loved her body!
Indeed, if his physical reaction to her nude body was testament to the truth of his statement, if an instantaneous erection was proof of his words, to Elizabeth’s amazement, Mitchell Lipensky, the man she loved with all of her heart, did, truly, love the sight of her, in her imagination, “fat girl” body.
****
Aware that Mitchell liked seeing her without makeup, deciding to pass on all makeup, Elizabeth choose a pair of loose fitting blue jeans. Also aware that he liked her going braless while at home, but uncomfortable when not wearing a one, fitting her heavy breasts into a bra, she then slipped into a light blue cardigan.
****
Though he told Elizabeth he was going to take the El downtown, he did consider driving and using her prepaid parking spot, but after going into a skid on the icy street and almost hitting a parked truck, Mitchell slowly, very slowly, drove to the Howard Street El station.
****
“Hi, baby.”
Her honey colored hair tied in a ponytail, Mitchell’s dark mood somewhat brightened by the mere sight of Elizabeth standing barefooted within her doorway.
Coming into each others arms, “Oh, baby,” both held tightly, his face within the warm, soft crook of her neck and shoulder, smelling the combined scent of Elizabeth’s flesh and hair, his voice catching, “I love you,” he whispered.
Hearing the sadness in his voice, “I love you, too, Mitchie.”
“I hope so, baby, ’cause I’m really committed now.”
Looking into his eyes, “I know you are,” she said sincerely. “And I promise I’ll do everything I can to help make this easier for you, Mitch.”
Looking back into those large green eyes, feeling absolute love for this woman, yet…
Yet there was a hollow ache in Mitchell Lipensky’s stomach and heart for the life altering change he was in the process of bringing about that would take him from the home of his children. Yet…
Yet what was done was done, and knowing the stubborn, unforgiving temperament of his wife, knowing “what was done was done!” And as much love as Mitchell felt for the young woman he held in his arms, deep down, below the hollow ache in his stomach and heart, deep down below the sadness at the thought of another man raising his children, Mitchell was not sure his resolve was strong enough to actually go through with it… with a divorce.
However, confusion reining…
Loving this woman wholeheartedly! Wanting this woman at his side for the rest of his life!
Looking back, into Mitchell’s eyes, feeling absolute love for this man, sensing his sadness, rather sure she knew his thoughts, not sure that he could… would actually go through with it.
On the one hand knowing the change and years of sacrifice it would take on her part, maybe, deep down, Elizabeth Herzon hoped he would not, could not actually go through with it… with a divorce.
On the other hand, though: Loving this man wholeheartedly! Wanting this man at her side for the rest of her life!
Confusion reining…
Tightening her arms about him, Elizabeth’s mouth moving to his…
Her soft, warm lips on his. Her soft, warm body pressed against his, far from Mitchell’s usual humanistic reaction, the warmth of this embrace and kiss more spiritually emotional than sexually stimulating, Mitchell’s body did not respond as it always had.
“You hungry, baby? Want me to make you something to eat?”
Having had only coffee at his parents, suddenly realizing, “Yeah,” he said, “I’m starved.”
“Me, too.” Waiting for Mitchell, she’d held off eating. Taking his hand, Elizabeth led him into the kitchen.
Never having breakfast together, realizing they had so much to learn about each other. “How do you like your eggs?”
This simple question as a catalyst, his emotional dam bursting, within each other’s arms again, holding Elizabeth tightly, his head against her shoulder, Mitchell Lipensky cried.
Holding this man, “Shhh,” patting his back as one would an infant. “Shhh, baby.” Feeling his pain, truly feeling his pain, “I know, baby,” she said. “I know.”
Releasing Elizabeth, catching his breath, he swiped the palms of his hands across his eyes… then took the napkin she handed him. “Over easy,” forcing a weak smile. “I like my eggs over easy.”
“Okay,” smiling, “that’s good to know.”
