Lakeside, Michigan
June 16, 1958
“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.
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Elysium Fields 21: Lizzie
Topanga Canyon, California
Saturday, May 17, 1986
4:55 PM
“So this old guy… he just took ‘it’ out and showed it to you, just like that?”
“It was more than that, Mitchie, it was like he knew I hated him for doing it… showing ‘it’ to me and he seemed like he was getting a kick out of seeing how much I hated him for doing it; with my baby there, right alongside of us, and all the time he just talked as though we were old friends having a friendly conversation.”
“So this is why you sent the letter and pictures?”
“Yes. Well, it’s not really why, it’s when I decided to because I was getting really lonely for you, but…”
“ ‘But’?”
About to say something, changing her mind… “Yeah, I was getting really lonely for you and probably would have sent the letter that day or the next anyway.”
“Marcie, I’m really sorry that that creep scared you like he did, but do you have any idea how the kids and me waited for the mailman every single day just waiting to hear from you, Just waiting for a…
June 24, 1958
Skokie, Illinois
Coming from work, entering the house…
“It came!”
“From Marsha?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah? No kidding!” The words he’d prayed to hear, on this day finally did.
“Yeah!” Mortie, followed by Larry, came from the den with an envelope in his hand.
Knowing just how much his brother had been looking forward to receiving this letter, “Here, Mitchie,” Morton said happily. “You got a letter from Mikey.”
There was additional postage on the thick envelope. Addressed to him in Marsha’s neat, small handwriting, the return address on the corner read: Michael Lipensky, c/o Red-Dot Grocery, R.R. 2, Lakeside, Michigan.
“Yeah, I knew it! That is where they are!” Looking at his brothers, he considered going upstairs to read the letter in private, but knowing that they, too, missed Marsha and Michael, and that they, also, had waited day after day for a letter from Marsha, going to the kitchen, Mitchell sat at the table and, his hands shaking, opened the flap and removed a folded sheet of school notebook paper. Unfolding it, inside were four pictures. Catching his breath, a mist covering his eyes, he slowly looked at each picture then handed it to Lawrence, who studied the picture then gave it to Morton.
Two were snapshots of Michael at the beach. In one he was sitting naked in the sand at water’s edge. The second showed him standing precariously in the sand with his knees and arms akimbo, trying to balance himself for the seconds it took to snap this picture before falling. There was a picture of him sitting on wooden steps in front of a cottage. The last was before a storefront with the name Red-Dot Grocery lettered on the window that had Michael standing with both hands held aloft by his mother, who was standing behind him. Wearing cut-off shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, Marsha’s long, slender legs were spread to either side of her son. Smiling, her face was tilted upward. Leaning forward, the fissure formed by her hanging breasts under the yawning blouse was clearly visible, and, Oh, God, Mitchell thought, she looks so good! Handing the last picture to his brother, taking a deep breath, he read:
June 20, 1958
Dear Daddy;
Mommy thought you would like to see some pictures of me so you can see how much I’ve grown.
We are living in Mama and Papa’s cottage in Michigan and go to the beach almost every day, and even if I can’t swim yet, Mommy always takes me in the water so I can splash.
Now that it is summer and warmer I am having a good time, but I miss you and would like you to come and visit me.
Your son,
Mikey
Re-reading the letter, Mitchell’s mind lingered on, “I miss you and would like you to come and visit me.”
Marsha wrote this letter, not Michael, of course, he thought. And what she’s saying is that she misses me and wants me to come to her. “Oh, God!” Standing, grabbing Morton, swinging him in the air, “Marsha wants me to come there!”
Elysium Fields
Topanga Canyon, California
Saturday, May 17, 1986
4:55 PM
“Mitchie, that was, what…? Twenty-eight years ago and I’ve told you that as soon as I did it; as soon as Michael and I got to the cottage I knew it was a very stupid, irrational thing to do and those three months were the worst months in my life, and don’t forget that you kind of evened things up with Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth, yeah, I know Elizabeth evened the score.”
Each time I thought of Lizzie, there would be a kind of tug in the region of my heart and I would try to envision how things might have been if I hadn’t left the lawyer’s office – On November 22, 1963, actually on the same day and exact time that John Kennedy was assassinated – and called Marsha asking if I could come home. Of course, back then it was the kids. I just couldn’t imagine life without my, at that time, three children. Now all four are grown and on their own, so what if I should meet a lady that I love as much as I loved Lizzie, would I… No! I love Marsha… I do.
Amazing how fast extraordinary things can become ordinary because here I was: completely naked sitting with my completely naked wife having a conversation about a sexual deviate because of a sexual deviate thinking of a woman that I once loved, and still might, as all the while naked men and women nonchalantly saunter by.
©September 4, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman
