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Fastening the three hooks of the push-up brassiere in the front, rotating it around her chest, Marsha fit her breasts into the cups and, lightly pinching the flesh, pulled both upward. Searching the bar that held her blouses, choosing a light blue, sleeveless one, she put it on, buttoned all but the top button, then decided to leave the second button unbuttoned, too. Pulling on a pair of ironed Levi’s, she tied the tails of the blouse over the waistband. Sitting on the hamper, Marsha put a pair of sandals onto her bare feet, then went back to the bathroom to appraise herself in the full-length mirror.

The Goldmans lived two blocks from the beach, on the ninth floor of a moderately high priced, somewhat fashionable apartment building just west of Sheridan Road on the far north side.

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 June 16, 1955 to July 2, 1955

Chicago, Illinois

Finding Marsha 

On any warm evening, except for the “high holidays” when the restaurant was closed, the entry to Askanaz would be packed and the sidewalk in front of the popular delicatessen crowded with the overflow of people waiting to hear their names called, and also with young people who were there just to see “who was around.”

Arriving minutes apart, they waited twenty minutes before being seated.

In a booth on the east wall towards the back of the restaurant, sitting across from each other, Shelly faced towards the front.

With a waitress standing alongside their booth, Marsha ordered hot brisket on a kaiser roll and a Coke; Shelly, pastrami on rye and a Coke. As usual, the girls shared an order of French fries.

                                                                      ****

Arriving at the Parminter apartment at seven, Mitchell had spent a few minutes with Frank and Ida getting caught up on family matters. Leaving the apartment at seven-fifteen, driving to Morris Avenue, the boys circled awhile before finding a parking spot in the congested neighborhood.

It was a bit past eight when, standing in line, they were waiting to give their names to the hostess…

                                                                        ****

The waitress having brought the girls their drinks, “Hey,” Shelly said, the straw dropping into her Coke, “dibbies on the blonde guy!”

Turning in the booth, looking over her shoulder…

Deeply tanned from the spring patrol and hours of shirtless work parties in the hot, Atlantic sun, he wore a white sport shirt opened three buttons down, worn Levi’s, and his old, white-buck shoes.

…Mitchell! Snapping her body forward.

Knowing her friend appreciated a good-looking boy as much as she, “Marcie, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t recognize them?”

“Why,” looking at the two young men as they gave a name to Sadie, the hostess, Shelly’s forehead furled in thought, “should I?”

“Think!”

“You know I’d never forget any guys that look that good!”

“Oh, yeah? Remember the Palladium?”

“The Palladium?” Shelly questioned. “In Union Pier?”

“Yes. About, uh,” thinking, “six years ago.”

“Yeah!” Dawning on her. “Sure! The dark guy’s the guy that thought you were too young for him… uh?”

“Mitchell.”

“Yeah, Mitchell. And the other guy’s… Norman!”

“You got it!” Glancing over her shoulder again, “You want me to see if they’d like to sit with us?”

“Marcie, you know I’ve always had a thing for blonde guys! And somehow I get the impression that you sure want ’em to sit with us… Sure, go on, see if they want to.”

Standing within the mob of people inside the open door, craning their necks to see if there was anyone there that they recognized, traversing the large room slowly, Marsha! His pulse quickening, Mitchell’s eyes stopped at the right side of the restaurant when he saw a tall, familiar-looking girl stand up, step out of the booth, and begin to weave her way between the scattered tables towards the front of the delicatessen.

“So, see anyone we know?”

“Yeah…” Approaching, fastening and holding, Marsha’s dark-brown eyes meeting Mitchell’s green eyes, “we do.”

Turning his head, watching the tall, slender girl as she made her way to them, “We do know her, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Normie, we sure do.”

“Mitchell.”

Looking at each other, neither smiling, the young man and woman stood a yard apart.

“Marsha,” swallowing, holding his hand forward, “hi.”

Looking down, realizing he wanted to shake her hand… wanted to, Yes! hold her hand, moving hers to his… Touching. “Hi.”

His hand closed about her hand, then, the handshake no longer a handshake, their fingers twining about each other’s… The threads of what they’d lost on that dark road on their walk from Union Pier to Lakeside six years earlier were picked up and began to tighten about their hearts as…

The sight of this young woman, the mere touch of her hand in his warming him, comforting him as the touch of no hand had since… in three years. At a loss for words, able only to say, again, “Marsha, hi.”

The sight of this young man, the touch of her hand in his warming her in a way such as the mere touch of a hand had never warmed her before.

“Uh,” breaking the intense eye contact, but unwilling to let go of her hand, turning to Norman, “Norm, you remember Marsha… uh?” Looking at the girl, embarrassed, he reluctantly released her hand.

“Goldman,” she said, smiling. “Marcie Goldman.”

“Yeah! Goldman! That’s it… Norm, this is Marsha Goldman.” Their eyes locked again, “Goldman! Goldman! I won’t forget it again!”

“Yeah,” Norman said, “we met about a year ago; at the J.”

“No… Well, yes, but think back. You and Marsha met each other long before that.”

“We did?”

“Yes, sure we did. And you even know my girlfriend.” Turning to the rear, Marsha motioned to Shelly.

Seeing them looking at her, lifting her arm, Shelly wiggled her hand from side to side.

Squinting, even from this distance Norman could see that she was cute and hadn’t the slightest qualm about meeting her. But, shaking his head, “No,” he said, “I don’t remember meeting either of you girls before.”

“Oh, you’ll remember all right!” Marsha said knowingly, adding, “How’d you guys like to sit with us?”

“Yeah,” Norman said, “we’d love to!”

Following Marsha to the booth, “Shelly,” she said, “you remember Norman and Mitchell.”

“Do I remember Norman and Mitchell? Yes,” Shelly replied, “of course I do!”

This confusing him all the more, making room for him, Norman sat alongside Shelly.

Marsha slid into the empty seat, Mitchell followed and, sitting closely together, each aware of the warmth, the outsides of their thighs touched.

Shaking his head, “No,” looking at her closely, “I’d never forget anyone as cute as you, Shelly, but I’m sorry, I just can’t remember where I’d met you before.”

“I am crushed!” Shelly said, feigning hurt feelings. “You really don’t remember walking me home in Union Pier?”

“Union Pier? No,” thinking. “No, sorry, I don’t.”

“Marcie and me were in the Palladium playing pinball, and you and Mitchell came over and we started to talk… Remember?” Still seeing a blank look on his face, “And then we went to the bowling alley, and then you guys…”

“Oh, yeah!” Remembering. “Lakeside! You two lived in Lakeside, and me’n’Mitch walked you home!” Smiling. “Yeah! Hi!” Leaning closer, kissing her on the cheek, “Now I remember, sure!” he said happily, “Shelly, my old pal, how the hell are you?”

“Fine, Norm! Just fine!” Punching him playfully on the shoulder, “How the hell are you?”

“Now that I’ve finally met you again, I’m fine, too!”

The waitress, standing alongside the booth holding a tray with sandwiches and an order of fries, “You boys wann’a order somethin’?” she asked as she put the pastrami on rye in front of Shelly and the hot brisket sandwich on the table before Marsha.

Even though he’d had dinner no more than two hours earlier, “Yeah,” Mitchell said. “A corned beef on an onion roll and a chocolate egg-cream.”

“We don’t have none’a them.”

“Corned beef? You don’t have corned beef? Onion rolls?”

“No… Yes, we got corned-beef’n’onion rolls!” Looking at Mitchell as though he were a bug. “We don’t have the other… the what’ch’a’ma’call’it.”

“Egg-cream? Oh, yeah,” remembering that egg-creams were indigenous to New York City. “Okay, then, I’ll have a corned beef on an onion roll and a chocolate phosphate, and I like it extra sweet, please.”

Speaking to Norman, “An’ what about you, sport?”

“Uh, I’ll have the same…” Looking at Marsha’s sandwich, “No, give me what she has, and a cherry Coke.”

Turning from the booth, beginning to walk away…

“Ma’am,” Mitchell called after her.

“Turning back, “Yes?”

“Put it all on one bill.” Pointing to the dishes in front of the girls, “theirs, too.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mitch.”

“Yeah, he do!”

“It’s okay, Marcie,” glancing at Norman, “I want to.”

Laughing, “Hell!” Norman said, looking at Marsha. “Ol’ Scrooge here,” nodding his head towards Mitchell, “must really be trying to impress you.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at Marsha, too, “I guess I am… Go ahead, eat. You girls don’t have to wait for us.”

“No, we’ll wait for you guys.” Sipping her Coke, “How’s your brother, uh…?”

“I got two now. But the one you saw that night is Larry.”

“Larry, right!” Remembering. “What’s the other’s name?”

Not knowing the true story, “Poor kid. My mom named him…” beginning to laugh, “Morton Humphrey Lipensky. Ain’t that a mouthful? How’s your brother… What’s his name?”

Fighting the urge to curl her lip, “Roger.”

“Yeah. How’s Roger?”

“Fine. He got married, oh, about six months ago, and Brenda, that’s his wife, she’s three months pregnant now. He works for my dad.”

Reappearing with their sandwiches and drinks, conversation stopped as the waitress placed them in front of the boys.

“So tell me, where’d you guys disappear to last year?”

Swallowing what was in his mouth, “When are you talking about?” Norman asked.

“When I saw you two at the J.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘then’… This pal of ours, Ron Lurey, introduced us to…”

Remembering, “Irv Steinberg!” Norman began to laugh.

“Irv Steinberg! Yeah, what a…” Thinking of the whore fiasco, Mitchell, too, began to laugh.

Giggling, “What’s so funny?” Shelly asked.

Attempting to stop, “Oh, nothing.” But, looking at Norman, Mitchell began to laugh harder.

Catching the laughter’s contagious infection, “Come on, you guys,” Marsha, also, began to laugh and, barely able to get the words out, “tell us what’s so funny!”

Hearing the uncontrollable laughter, people at neighboring tables looked to the booth.

Taking his glasses off, rubbing his palms over his teary eyes, gasping the words, “We can’t tell you!”

“Come on, Norman!” Poking Mitchell in the ribs with her elbow. “Sure you can!” But only succeeded in making him laugh all the harder.

“Oh, no! Believe me, we can’t!”

“You guys…” Shelly stammered, “get all the fun.”

Out of breath now, the hysterical laughter stopping slowly, “Know what I think, Shell?” Marsha said. “I think they went to the whore.”

The boys looked at each other, then at Marsha.

“How the hell’d you know about the whore?” Norman asked.

“How? It was all over Roosevelt on Monday. There were about a hundred-forty guys there, and when the cops came, there was a kind’a riot and twenty-three of ’em got arrested.” Looking at Mitchell, “It was the whore, wasn’t it?”