In time, in not too long a time—much as Mitchell Lipensky’s continuing campaign to have Marsha patch things with his parents—besides his ongoing push for more and more strenuous exercise, that Elizabeth hated, Myron Lipshitz began his own continuing, “Let’s get pregnant” campaign that his wife flatly refused to consider. Which, obviously, led to heated arguments. Which, subsequently, subconsciously, may have been the reason why, after a bit less than two and a half years of marriage, when on August 18, 1961, Gene Tarnowski had mentioned that Bill Krupper had given a definite, approximate, retirement date and that he was considering whom to place into the remainder of Bill’s territory, it was at that time when Elizabeth—another of those instances of speaking before thinking… maybe—had suggested contacting Mitchell.
________________________________________________________________________
Des Plaines, Illinois
11:37 p.m., December 31, 1962
The eleven o’clock news over, so, too, for Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky the year 1962 ended at 11:37 p.m. with a perfunctory kiss and a less than heartfelt “Happy New Year.”
Any thought of sex completely out of the question, turning onto her side, having taken a pain pill for…? Marsha Lipensky fell asleep quickly.
Lying back to back, not touching, on this New Year’s Eve a lump of loneliness laying heavy on his stomach, Mitchell’s mind leaving the woman that lay scant inches away—but having the by now familiar sensation of being on opposite ends of the Grand Canyon—Mitchell’s thoughts, going from this, for him, sad, sexless and lonely place, Mitchell’s thoughts went to…
His life seemed to continually vacillate between his wife’s anger, her refusal to overcome that anger, her subsequent silences, to… After a few days of comparative peace, something might be said or something might be done, or, in his opinion not done, that would then start a new cycle of indignation.
The birth of Samuel bringing about a new problem—a fairly common problem for women after multiple births—but unlike her still unknown diabetes, this new problem was very obvious and, if one were to look, very visible: grapelike hemorrhoids. Which, Mitchell was sure, gave Marsha another excuse to say no to sex.
Three children quite possibly too many for her to care for. But, her husband would rationalize, it was Marsha that wanted three children! Wanted four in fact, so she had said, before she was thirty.! Loving his children, regarding his children Mitchell wouldn’t change a thing. However, It was Marsha that insisted we have the children!
And actually she was a very good mother…
Except when the anger at her husband erupted. At those times, regardless of the feelings of, or thought of her children or husband, the verbal lava of Marsha Lipensky’s anger would spew outward burning all in its way.
Lying alongside this woman who was the mother of his three children, feeling the radiating warmth of her body…
Mitchell Lipensky’s thoughts were of another woman.
Lying alongside this woman who was the mother of his children, who had told him many times—although not always actually saying the words—that she hated him. Lying alongside this woman that did nothing to hide her distain for him, that went out of her way to show her disgust for him, feeling unloved, feeling lonely, feeling sexually deprived, Mitchell Lipensky’s thoughts were of a woman that he knew loved him and, admitting to himself, long ago admitting to himself that he loved this woman in return.
From their discussion of three days ago, mentally replaying the words and tone of her voice, Elizabeth did not sound happy about her marriage, thus opening the fate of both marriages to conjecture.
Never having completed intercourse with a woman other than Marsha, the thought of being with another woman, a different woman… The thought of the possibility of actually being intimate with a different woman, to be “with” a woman other than Marsha? To kiss a different woman? To hold a different woman? To look upon the nude body and to physically love a woman other than Marsha…? The thought surreal! Due to the ramifications the thought terrifying! But yet…
Is mental infidelity still infidelity?
Rationalizing his wife’s, to say the least, dispassionate attitude towards sex… Towards him.
Knowing he was unloved… hated, as a matter of fact.
His hand reaching through the slit of his pajamas, Mitchell Lipensky’s thoughts went to another woman and, as he had in the past…
12:16 a.m., Tuesday, January 1, 1963
Much as he’d concocted a passionate, although totally impossible scenario with the black girl in 1951, within the first minutes of this first day of 1963, laying on his side with his penis in hand, listening for any change in the sound of the sleeping breathing of his wife that might signify she had awakened, Mitchell Lipensky and Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz, in his imagination were naked together and, married or not, three children or not, yes, thinking the thought, I love you! Hearing Elizabeth say, I love you, too, Mitchie! Indeed, Elizabeth and Mitchell did make love.
January 1 through January 10, 1963
6:15 a.m., Des Plaines, Illinois
This morning, not too different from many mornings, awaking with an erection, but on this morning the erection was not from the need to urinate, but from Mitchell Lipensky’s thoughts of the beautiful, phantom lady he’d made vicarious love to the night before. Knowing this…
Knowing Elizabeth was something that could never be! Wanting to chase the thought of this impossibility from his mind, looking to his left, at the sleeping figure of his wife and feeling the need for human warmth, for human contact, not wanting to wake her and knowing sex would be out of the question and actually—at least for the moment—wanting no more than to be near his wife, tucking his penis between his thighs, moving closer to Marsha, who was still asleep on her side, slowly, gently ensconcing her buttocks into the forming valley of his crotch and thighs…
“Mitchell!” Angrily moving to the far side of the bed, “Leave me alone!”
Returning to his side of the Grand Canyon. Maybe, he thought, she thought it’s too early to get up. A wave of depression settling over him, No, she didn’t even see the time; she just doesn’t want me to touch her. Fighting an urge to cry, his thoughts a jumble, Mitchell Lipensky stared at the ceiling until he heard the first early morning cries of his baby.
****
Hoping that she’d awake in a better mood, letting Marsha sleep as long as she wished on this New Year’s day—not that she wouldn’t anyway—leaving the bed at six thirty, softly singing, “Boop boop dittem dattem whattem Chu!” Changing his diaper, Mitchell cleaned two and a half month old Samuel, then, along with Michael and Ellie, prepared and served a breakfast of orange juice, eggs and sausage.
****
Breakfast finished and the baby cereal glop wiped from Samuel’s face and hands, sitting on the sofa in the den with Mikey touching closely to his left, Ellie touching closely to his right, Sammie cuddled on his lap and Mercy at their feet, vacantly watching the early morning cartoons, thoughts of destroying these loving, peaceful times with his children…
Mitchell loved being with Mikey, Ellie, Sammie and Mercy during the quiet time of these early mornings and the thought of leaving all this for Elizabeth, for someone he loved and, more importantly, most importantly, for someone that loved him, weighed as cement on his stomach.
Prospective: Said a future article in The Chicago Tribune
“One month after delivery, women still complained of breast problems, fatigue, hemorrhoids, poor appetite, constipation, increased sweating, acne, hand numbness and hot flashes.
Three months after delivery, many of these symptoms continued,” the study reported, “while 40% of mothers also reported pain during sexual intercourse, as well as respiratory infections and hair loss at three to six months.
Even at nine months postpartum, many women experienced vaginal discomfort and constipation.”
****
Add to this presently unknown mix the unknown symptoms of diabetes.
Chicago, Illinois
January 1, 1963, 9:47 a.m.
Pouring coffee, “What?”
“I said,” he said nonchalantly, “I didn’t use a…”
“Yeah, I heard what you said!” Putting the pot on the stove, remaining standing. “I just can’t believe you’d do that to me!”
“Why?” Looking at her, “It’s damn near about time!”
“Yes, okay! What, tell me, am I supposed to tell them at work when, oh, in about four months,” said sarcastically, “I show up pregnant… When I’m not even supposed to be married?”
“But you are married!”
“Myron,” she said angrily, “they don’t know that!”
“Well,” said just as angrily, “maybe it’s damn near time they did! Tell ’em you’re married! Tell them you’ve been married for two years now!”
“How? What am I supposed to say now? That I’ve been lying to them all this time.” Pleadingly, “They’ll fire me!”
“Yeah, so what!” Always a thorn in Myron’s side: his wife earning more than he. “You don’t need the damn job! I’m making enough now!” Poking his thumb in his chest, “I’ll support us!
“You’re not making enough to cover both our salaries. Besides, I love my job and don’t want a baby!”
“Elizabeth, it’s not natural, a healthy young woman not wanting a baby. It’s more than just work, isn’t it?”
“I’m not ready for a baby! I don’t want a baby!”
Repeating sarcastically, “You’re not ready for a baby? Elizabeth, you’re twenty-five years old! All of our friends have babies! It’s more than just work,” Myron repeated, “isn’t it?”
Shaking her head in disgust, thinking, I don’t want to be fat again! Turning away, knowing what she would do if she was lucky, Elizabeth left the kitchen.
Sunday, January 6, 1963
Her anger at the deception carrying throughout the week, pain waking her, orientating herself, Thank God! for the first time in her life Elizabeth welcomed menstrual cramps.
Monday, January 7, 1963
“Judy, good morning. It’s Elizabeth Lipshitz.”
“Elizabeth, good morning. How are you?”
“Good. Fine, in fact, but I’d like to make an appointment.”
“Can I tell the doctor your problem?”
“It’s a personal thing, Judy.”
“Sure.” Checking Doctor Rubin’s appointment schedule, “Thursday: 2:15 do?”
“That’ll be fine. Thank you, Judy.”
Thursday, January 10, 1963
“Your period started on Sunday, you say?”
“Yes…” Elizabeth said, “well, the cramps.”
“How long do your periods usually last?”
“Six, seven days.”
Writing, ripping it from the pad, he handed her the prescription. “Take one immediately, then follow the instructions.”
Sincerely spoken, “Thank you, Doctor.”
“These won’t take affect immediately, so use your regular precautions for the next three weeks.”
****
The first birth control pill: Combined Oral Contraceptive Pill (COCP), Enovid, was introduced to America in 1960.
