THE MIDNIGHT SKULKER 6

Chicago, Illinois

February 28, 1974

8:45 a.m. Central Standard Time

Anticipating the pressurizing of cabin – that always caused his ears to plug—and the surge of power he sensed as the engines came to life, taking hold of his wife’s hand, “Marsha,” whispering directly into her ear, “I love you.”

“Mitchie,” kissing his cheek, “I love you, too.”

Swallowing to clear his ears as the cabin began to pressurize…

The surge of power as the four port and starboard jet engines came to life…

After two or three minutes of hesitation, the Boeing 707 airliner began to roll.

Her hand atop the hand that held hers, Marsha Lipensky’s held on so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The plane taxied slowly. It turned to the left then to the right and stopped.

The roaring of the four engines barely heard within the cabin…

Still stationary, shuddering, straining to be on its way…

A sudden jerk as the plane began to move forward….

Slowly… Faster… Faster… Faster… faster, faster. Faster until the patched cracks in the runway and the weedy grass alongside the concrete strip became a blur… Inches. The wheels were inches off the ground… A foot… A yard… Two, three, five, ten yards off the ground…

Straining against the seatbelt, sitting bolt upright, the sweat of fear prickling Marsha’s scalp, her eyes locked shut, her hand clenching even tighter…

The plane rose in steeply angled flight over the terminal and hangers and planes and commercial structures that dotted O’Hara  Airport, then over houses and yards…

Higher… Higher… Higher…

Banking westerly, the early-morning sun, shifted from starboard, to port.

His scalp pretty well prickled also, taking a deep breath, Mitchell stared out the window watching  as the City of Chicago grew smaller, then disappeared altogether.  Laying his head against the headrest, forcing him-self to relax he realized the pressure caused by the hold of his wife’s hand becoming painful.

 “Honey,” lifting their hands, “you can relax now.” 

“Why, have we landed yet?”

Smiling, “No, of course not.”

“Then I ain’t opening my eyes!”  Opening her eyes, Marsha released her husband’s hand.

Reclaiming his hand,” Thank’s, baby.”  Flexing it a few times to get the blood flowing.

…Ding. Ding. Ding.  The “No Smoking, Fasten Seat Belt” sign had gone off.

Having no intention of unfastening her seat belt, “Know what I’d like, Mitchie?”

Leaving his fastened, too , “What?”

“A drink?”

Surprised, “Really! You’d really like a drink?”

Wanting to make small talk to take her mind from where they were – about thirty thousand feet up – “Yeah.” And besides, at that moment, a drink sounded pretty good.

“Marcie, it’s only,” glancing at his watch, “nine-oh-nine.”

“Too early, huh?”

“You think? Yeah! And besides, I doubt they’d mix a Harvey Wallbanger.”

“You don’t think they got vodka?”

Laughing, “Yeah, I’m sure they have vodka.”

“No orange juice, maybe?”

Happy that Marsha seemed to have acclimated to flying this quickly, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they have orange juice; doubt they have Galliano, though.” 

“Okay, no booze then,” adding, “this early.”

Settling back in her seat, “You know, I’m really glad we choose Alice.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“You think we’ll get as much as she says for the house?”

Relaxing a bit also, “A hundred thousand? Don’t know, but that would be great!”

The down payment of seventy-five hundred dollars came from the sale of their first home, the townhouse in Des Plains, Illinois.  When they’d purchased the two story, twenty-seven hundred square foot house in Schaumburg, Illinois – for near seventy-five thousand dollars – it was somewhat undervalued because Schaumburg – about fifteen miles west of Skokie -- was considered to be in the ‘far boonies’. However, in the five years they’d lived there, civilization had moved westerly to the ‘far boonies’ and theirs, with a lot of ‘handi work’ from Mitchell, was truly a beautiful five bedroom, two and a half bath house.

“Alice likes what we’ve done to the house and really thinks it’ll sell for about that.”

“If it does, that’ll give us about thirty-five/thirty-six grand for…”

“Remember we’ll have closing costs.”

“I know.  And Alice said they have something called, uh, escrow in California. So, after all’s said and done, we should have, at least, twenty-nine/thirty thousand for a down payment.

“And everyone says that homes in California sell for lots less than in the Chicago area.”

“Yeah, and the kids would really like a pool.”

“The kids, yeah,” Marsha said, “and us, too.”

“Our own pool,” Mitchell said wistfully. “Maybe you’n’me; maybe we can do a little skinny-dipping sometimes?”

“Well, we’ve four kids, you know.”

Leaning over, nuzzling her neck, “We’ll wait till they’re all asleep.”

“If I know you, you’re not going to want to just swim!”

“You really think you know me all that well, huh?”

“Yeah, when it comes to ‘that’, I really think I know you all that well.”

Quiet a few seconds, looking out the window… “Baby, you’re right, you do know me that well.” Turning back, whispering directly into her ear, “I’d love to fuck you in our own pool.”

“yeah, and I’ll say it again: You really think we’ll be able to with four kids around.?”

“We’ll send ‘em to a movie.”

“Michael’s going to be seventeen; we can’t just send him to a movie with his little brother and sisters… Besides, how do you plan on doing ‘it’ in a swimming pool?”

“We did it ‘all the way’ in the shower once, remember?”

“We were almost twenty years younger then, and also I wanted to get ‘knocked up’ then.”

“Yeah, and it worked.”

“Yeah, Mitchie, it worked fine then. But back then you didn’t have this,” patting his stomach, “little tummy you got now and you were able to get, oh, maybe a little closer then.”

“Yeah, well… Maybe it would be easier if we have a pool with a, what’ch’a’ma’call’it, a Jacuzzi, ‘cause Jacuzzis’ got a kind of a bench that we, uh, I can sit on and then…” glancing downward, with Marsha’s eyes following, seeing the recently arisen cylindrical bulge in his pants, “I can sit on the bench thing and you can, uh, sit on me and we can do ‘it’ that way, couldn’t we?” 

“You really think we could get away with, uh, having sex in the pool without even one of the kids seeing us?” 

 “Well, we could sure try.”

“Okay…” Looking past his shoulder through the window and, seeing nothing, quickly looking away, “Okay, already, if we get a house with a pool, with a Jacuzzi, and if we can get rid of the kids…”

“Or make sure they’re all asleep.”

“Yes, okay! If we get a house with a pool! If we get a house with a pool with a Jacuzzi, and if we can get rid of the kids… or make sure they’re all asleep… But let me tell you something, Mitchell, they damn well, sure as hell better be asleep because if they catch you’n’me,” whispering, “screwing, I’ll kill you!”

©September 24, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman