__________________________________________________________________________________

Having kept an eye on these two, temporary pass, ‘hippie types’ throughout the day, one of the monitors in the water the other, literally, dragging Clyde out by his ponytail.

Backed against the chain link fence, “We got a good place here!” Punching Clyde in the chest with the heel of his fist, “And it’s fuckers like you two that give it a bad name, so get your crap and get the hell out’a here! And we’re going to follow you down to Topanga to make sure you’re gone.”

The second monitor pulling Tina from the pool area by her arm, “Get your goddamned shit out’a here, now!”

Staying out of the way, still in the pool watching as Clyde and Tina were hustled towards their blanket.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Elysium Fields 20: Utopia Lost

Topanga Canyon, California

 Saturday, May 17, 1986

 4:23 PM

“Marcie, I hope those two assholes don’t change your mind about,” motioning with both hands, “here.”

“‘Here’? Elysium, you mean?”

“Yes.”

 “Nah, Mitchie. I love it here and I love you, and I love you even more for finding this place and talking me into coming.”.”

“Thanks’, Marcie. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come back.”

 Heading up the three steps, “You know, I never cared that much for Evie in school, but I’m really happy we, uh, swam into each other.

“Yeah,” following his wife out of the pool, “me, too.”

“Tell you the truth, Mitchie, I really thought I’d hate it here and agreed to come only because you seemed to like it so much.” Hesitating a moment. “And I know I’ve been really ‘bitchie’ lately, so figured, what the hell.”

An apology from Marsha, especially to her husband: a very rare and unusual circumstance.

An apology? He thought, Wow, Marsha’s apologizing to me!  “Yeah,” putting his arm about her waist, “but you said you wanted to see naked men.”

“Yes, I did. But guess what?”

“What?”

“After seeing the naked guys here, you’re the only naked guy that’s even come close to turning me on.” 

“Old Clyde has a pretty big dick; he didn’t turn you on?”

Putting two fingers into her mouth, making a, “Yaghtt!” gagging sound. “He’s a disgusting creep!”

“Where did it come from?”

“What do you mean?”

“Marcie, you called Clyde a ‘perverted son of a bitch’.”

“So?”

“ ‘Asshole, ‘bastard’, ‘son of a bitch’, these are your swear words, but ‘perverted’?”

Quiet again… Then, “Mitchie, you remember that letter I… Michael and I sent to you from Lakeside when we, you know, went away.”

Thinking, then hesitating before speaking, “When you had all our stuff packed and moved out and you ran away to Lakeside and told everyone not to let me know where you and my son were and I didn’t hear from or see you or my baby for three months?” he said bitterly.

“Yes...” Knowing, even after all these years, that he had the right to his anger, giving Mitchell a pass on his tone of voice. “Can we go someplace and sit for a while because there’s something I never told you, but a really terrible thing happened to me that day…”.

Lakeside, Michigan

June 16, 1958

Lifting it, holding it from beneath, pointing it at Marsha, “You want to touch my cock, don’t you, Marsha!”

“Touch it?” she said incredulously. “No! God, no! You’re disgusting!” Standing, scooping her baby from the blanket. “We’re getting out of here you sick, perverted, nauseating, bastard!” Marsha snarled. “They ought to lock you up!” Her voice rising. “They ought to put you in a god-damned looney-bin and throw away the god-damned key!” As he was only sitting on part of the blanket, using her adrenaline-pumped strength, Marsha was able to yank it from beneath him. Shoving her arm through the strap of the diaper bag, spitting out, “You perverted son-of-a-bitch!” Not bothering to fold the blanket or towels, bunching them under her arm, her son in her other arm, Marsha Lipensky stormed off the beach.

Still unbelieving, “My God!” Marsha muttered as she trudged through sand and up the incline of the beach access. “Oh, my God!”

Catching her breath only after placing Michael in his buggy, Marsha realized—as old world explorers eventually brought plague to the natives of virgin lands—that Nate had become the despoiler of Marsha Goldman’s paradise, and Marsha Lipensky knew that the paradise of her youth now existed only in mind and memory. Be it the loss of her utopia, or the encounter with Nate in her utopia, the realization caused more than merely anger… The realization caused an insurmountable sadness, and Marsha Goldman Lipensky cried.

                                                                                         ** * *

“Dotty!”

“Marsha?” Seeing the dismayed, highly distraught look on her face, the older woman hurried from behind the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, God! The most horrible thing just happened to me!”

“Come here!” Taking the buggy, wheeling it into the little store, Dorothy led Marsha to a chair. “Sit! Now tell me! What’s the matter?”

“Some disgusting man—an older man—on the beach, he, uh, he showed himself, it…” pointing to her crotch, “to me!”

“Oh, God! Not again!”

Shocked, Marsha looked at the older woman. “ ‘Again’? Dotty, what do you mean, ‘not again’?”

“About two years ago, before Red—may his soul rest in peace—passed away, a girl came in the store hysterical, and she told Red and me that a man… that he… the same thing that happened to you.”

“Did she call the police? Did they ever find out who he is? Who the man is?”

“Yes! I mean, yes we did call the police, but the closest police department is in New Buffalo, and because we’re not incorporated here, they told us to call the state police, and we did, and they came and the girl made out a report. But after that, so far as I know, nothing ever happened… You want me to call the police for you, Marcie?”

“Yes! Please, Dottie, get them on the phone for me.”

Dialing “O,” Dorothy asked the operator to connect her with the state police.

Stubborn pride aside, while waiting, Marsha Lipensky came to a decision.

©September 2, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman