_________________________________________________________________
“Sue, let me do it! I’m the one that lied. Let me talk to them!”
“They think the world of you, Mitchie, and knowing that you lied to them from the start is going to let them down terribly. No, I know how to handle my folks”—though, really, she had no idea of what she was going to tell them—“I’ll do it.”
“Susan,” he asked, “do you love me?”
“Of course I do!” she answered without hesitation.
“Okay, It’s our lives! We love each other and can’t let this come between us. I’ll do everything I can to get into R.I.T.! I promise!”
________________________________________________________
Skokie, Illinois
June 19, 1952
On commencement day, Susan came with Myra, Walter, Lawrence and Morton.
The Thursday evening ceremony took place outside.
As he walked across the stage to receive his diploma, Mitchell searched the audience looking for them. As the scroll was handed to him his eyes met Susan’s. Smiling, she threw him a kiss.
Oh, God! All’s right with the world.
Chicago, Illinois
June 21, 1952
“Jambalay’an’a’crawfish pie an’a’fila’gumbo!”
****
He hadn’t seen Susan since saying goodnight to her after they’d gone to dinner to celebrate his graduation with his family.
Going for dinner at Walter and Myra’s favorite restaurant in downtown Chicago, rather than taking everyone home then driving back with Susan alone, having to be in early that night because she still had school the next day, with his family waiting in the car—at Susan’s urging he hadn’t yet spoken to her parents, so, not wanting to push it, giving Mister and Mrs. Friedman a little longer to cool off—the kiss in the stairwell was…? Perfunctory.
Yesterday evening, when they had spoken on the phone and made plans to spend Saturday at the beach, Susan had told him, “Mitchie, don’t come up. My mom and dad are still really hurt and they don’t care to see you right now.”
“Sue, you know that I like your mom’n’dad, and it bothers me that they’re still mad at me. I think if I can just talk to them, I’d be able to get them to understand why I did it. Why I had to lie.”
“No,” she answered. “I think it’ll be better if you just let it be a while longer.”
“Okay, if you think it’ll be better that way.”
“I do!”
“Whatever you say, baby… Pick you at eleven, okay?”
“Yes. That’ll be fine.”
“Susan…”
“Yes, Mitchell?”
“I love you.”
“…I love you, too, Mitchie.”
****
“Jambalay’an’a’cawfish pie an’a fila’gumbo…” It was a beautiful Saturday, and taping his hands on the steering wheel, Mitchell sang along with Hank Williams.
As always, his heart quickening at the first sight of her, Susan was there, sitting on the stoop waiting for him.
Pulling to the curb, leaning across the seat, “Hi, beautiful!” he said through the open window.
Standing, Susan walked slowly to the car.
Rather than a bathing suit and a beach robe, she was wearing blue jeans and a blouse.
“Hey,” looking at her face, “where’s your bathing suit?”
Susan’s skin was sallow, the flesh around her eyes puffy and, as though she had been crying, her eyes glassy and bloodshot.
“Susan, what’s wrong?”
Opening the door, “I have to talk to you.” She sat down.
“Sue?” He attempted to put his arms about her, but, resisting, she held both hands, her fists clenched, against his chest. “What’s the matter?”
Staring out the window, she didn’t answer.
“For God’s sake, Sue,” becoming alarmed, “what happened? What’s wrong?”
“Mitchie…” Opening her hand, she looked down.
His eyes follow her eyes. On her palm there was a gold ring. “Sue?” His mind not yet accepting what his eyes saw, lifting her other hand he looked for a like ring, a ring with adhesive tape wrapped around the shank, a ring that looked exactly like this ring… that should be on her finger… but wasn’t. “Oh, God! Susan, no!”
“Mitchie… Mitchell, I…” Her chest heaved. Tears welled in her eyes. “I…” The words catching in her throat, barely able to whisper… “I… Oh, God. Mitchie, I can’t… I…” taking a deep intake of breath, “I can’t see you anymore.” Turning her face forward, she closed her eyes.
“No! Sue, you can’t…!” His eyes stinging, feeling a constricting of his throat, and within his heart, “Susan, you can’t mean that!”
As if afraid to look at him, Susan’s eyes remained closed.
“They did it! Sue, don’t let them! Please, don’t let them do this to us!”
“Mitchie, I’m sorry… Oh, God!” She looked at him. “Mitchie, please, if you love me…”
“If I love you? Oh, God, Sue, I love you more than anything!”
“If you love me like you say, then please don’t try to see me, or call me again.” She stared at him, as though committing his face to memory. “Please, Mitchie… Oh, God!” Putting the ring on the dashboard, Susan stepped out, and without looking back hurried from the car.
Looking at her through the mist of his tears, “Susan!” calling after her, as… “It’s because of college,” she disappeared through the entry door… “isn’t it?”
Susan was gone.
Gone? There was no memory of life before Susan.
Skokie, Illinois
June 25, 1952
He waited four days.
Somehow Mitchell lived through four days without speaking to Susan, then, taking a deep breath, he called at 5:30 p.m., at a time when he was sure she’d be home and her father wasn’t; meaning he would have a 50/50 chance of either Susan or her mother answering the phone.
“Hello.”
Silent a moment, the sound of Susan’s voice destroying his intended composure, “Sue,” his throat thickening, barely able to speak, “it’s me, Sue.”
Mitchie! Feeling her heart pound, swallowing, fighting back tears, desperately wanting to talk to him, to tell him, Oh, God, I love you. I miss you… Susan said nothing.
“Sue,” finding his voice, “honey, I had to talk to you one more time.” He waited three heartbeats for her to speak, and when she didn’t, “I love you! No one! I promise you that no one in your entire life will ever love you as much as I love you! And I know that you love me, too. I know that this is because of Rochester and I promise that I’ll do anything to get into college, Sue. Only please don’t let them do this to us! Please, Sue!”
“Mitchell…”
Oh, God… he sighed. “Yes, Mrs. Friedman.”
“Mitchell, Susan does not want to talk to you, and she does not want you to call her again!”
“Mrs. Friedman, I know what I did was wrong! But I got trapped on that very first night and had to say what I said! But I swear that I did everything possible to make it right. You have no idea of what I did and how hard I worked to make it right! And I promise that I will make it right! Please, Mrs. Friedman, I’m still the same guy, and I know that you and Mister Friedman like me… liked me.”
“No. Mitchell, apparently you are not ‘the same guy’ we thought you were, nor ‘the same guy’ my daughter thought you were!”
“Mrs. Friedman, I love Susan, and know she loves me, too! Please!”
“No! Susan does not love you, Mitchell! Susan thinks what you did was reprehensible and she does not want you to call here again! Do you understand? And if you do, we’ll call the police! Do you understand me, Mitchell?”
Not answering, dazed, he broke the connection.
****
She'd never been there,
at the Evanston
drug store soda fountain
but on that day,
at that time...
I'd never been there,
at the Evanston
drug store soda fountain
but on that day,
at that time...
Our eyes touching,
the girl on the kitty-corner stool
and myself as I awaited a hot fudge sundae
our eyes touched and held
till moments later,
desperate to meet,
rising from my stool,
going to the girl on the kitty-corner stool
awkward words materialized
then, a prayer answered,
her telephone number given
and later that day a date made.
With the first kiss
for me,
the thought
of this girl on the kitty-corner stool
as a gift from God
when mutual love blossomed
and breathed
the warm vapor
of heart numbing
beauty...
Of heart numbing
beauty until...
Love blossomed for near a year
until,
as a castle of sand,
as smoke in the wind
love was gone,
gone along with the girl
on the kitty-corner stool.
Now,
though the years
are so many...
The years so many
that were we to meet
I would not know
the girl on the
kitty-corner stool
though,
still to this day,
though fifty-five years are gone,
still,
to this day
I sense the warm vapor
of the heart numbing
beauty
of this girl,
the girl on the
kitty-corner stool
whose love,
our love,
gone...
gone
as a castle of sand,
gone
as smoke in the wind,
gone,
the girl on the
kitty-corner stool.
