________________________________________________________________________

Though having a key, not wanting to walk in on his folks at 6:15 in the morning, ringing the bell…

…He heard the clatter of nails and paws on the linoleum floor, then the swishing sound of a long tail along with excited panting and, as the door was opened, stopping for a quick perfunctory pet, Cricket ran past Mitchell to urinate in the mounting snow.

Holding her robe closed, glancing skyward at the falling snow then at “Mitchell,” taken back at seeing her son this early in the morning, “what are you doing here?”

“Marsha and me,” coming right to the point, “we’ve broken up.”

“What?”

“Marsha and me, we’ve broken up.”

________________________________________________________________________

Skokie, Illinois

November 14, 1963

To her son, “I heard you.”  To her husband,  “Walter,” yelling over her shoulder, “come here!”

His breath coming in plumes, “Okay if I come in, Mom?”

“Of course you can come in!” Standing aside, “Come on, Cricket!”

Still in pajamas, coming from the bedroom, “Mitchell, what are you doing here?”

“He says his wife and him have broken up.”

Looking from his wife to his son, said as much of an exclamation as a question, “Again!?”

Standing just inside the doorway, brushing snow from his shoulders. “Yeah, Dad, I’m afraid so.”

“Mitchell,” Myra said crossly, “take your coat off and tell us what happened!”

Removing his coat, draping it over the back of a straight back chair…

“You planning on moving in here again?” Walter asked irritably.

“Dad, this all happened at four this morning and I haven’t really had time to figure what I’m going to do.”

“You and your wife…”

                                                                   ****

Though the two women had learned to live within what might be termed as an armed truce, even after eight years of marriage, Marsha’s refusal to address her mother­ and father-in-law by title or name was still as a bone sticking in the throat of Myra. And as Marsha refused to address them—so what else is new—Myra also refused to address her daughter-in-law.

                                                                    ****

“You and your wife had another fight, huh?” Myra asked.

“It’s a little more than…”

Going into the kitchen, “coffee’s made,” Myra said. “Go, sit!”

“Mitchie, hi!”

Both still in pajamas, the boys had come downstairs.

“What are you doing here so early?”

“Hi, Larry, Mortie. I’ve got to talk to mom and dad.”

“You and Marsha mad at each other again?” Morton asked.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Can we listen?”

“You’ll hear all about it later. So if you guys don’t mind, right now I’d rather just talk to mom and dad. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Lawrence said. “We’ve got to get ready for school anyway.”

Walter and Myra at their usual places. His lips tightly compressed, looking down, absently running his finger around the rim of the cup before him, Mitchell sat at the far end of the kitchen table.

Watching his son… “So?” Walter asked. “Your wife told you to get out again?”

“No. Not exactly… Yeah.” Still gazing downward, thinking, May as well get it out. “I’ve had a, uh… I’ve got a girlfriend.”

Digesting this, quiet for a long moment, “A girlfriend?” Myra asked incredulously. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

“What do you mean, you’ve got a girlfriend?”

“Dad,” looking from his father to his mother, “I’ve been seeing another woman.”

Shocked at the revelation, “Who?” his mother asked.

No less shocked, “How long?” his father asked.

Well aware of their lack of feelings for Marsha, however a bit surprised at his parents somewhat calm acceptance of this somewhat apocalyptic revelation. “I met Elizabeth…”

“Her name’s Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Mom. She started at Transco about a week after me.”

“When you started at Transco? You’ve been seeing this girl all this time?”

“No, Dad! We lived in Peoria for two and a half years, remember?”

“So when…”

“Elizabeth and me…” How to say it without making Elizabeth appear as a home wrecker? “Elizabeth and me, our territories kind of butt up to each others and we went to lunch together last February and one…”

Interrupting, “You and her,” Myra asked, “you and this Elizabeth have been seeing each other,” thinking a moment, ticking months off on her fingers… “for nine months? She’s not…”

Catching her thought, “No, Mom, she’s not pregnant!”

Glancing skyward, “Thank God!”

“Anyway, we went to lunch together and one thing led to another…” Looking from his mother to his father and back to his mother. “She loves me, Mom, really loves me,” he said emotively. “Elizabeth says she’s loved me ever since she met me when we worked in the office… And I love her, too!”

“She knew you were married?”

“Yes. That’s why nothing happened all the time before February. But then, when we began having lunch together we started talking and…”

“This Elizabeth, she married?”

“No, Dad.” Omitting that at that time she had been, “Elizabeth’s not married.”

Walter sipping at his coffee.

Mitchell gazing downward, at the dark fluid within his cup.

Myra’s eyes upon her son.

The three sat silently, until…

“To tell the truth, my son, I have no idea how you lived with your wife as long as you have! But are you sure of this, Mitchell? A divorce with three children? You’re going to have to support them and your wife, too, you know, and…” looking at Walter, “yourself, too.”

“Yeah, Mom, I know.” Taking a sip of coffee, placing the cup onto the table, “But Marsha and me…” Looking up, looking from his mother to his father. “She… Marsha really doesn’t like me. As a matter of fact, she’s told me that she hates me more than once and I, uh, I don’t like her too much either. And now I have this wonderful, unbelievably beautiful woman that does love me, that I know loves me and that I…”

“Yes, fine and good! But I remember how miserable you were last time, when your wife decided to run away with your son and not let you know where they were. And you and your wife had only Michael then, but now, with three? Are you going to be okay; not to live with your children?”

Feeling a catch in his throat and a stinging behind his eyes, digesting this question, “Not to live with your children” He’d asked himself the same question a thousand times over the past nine months.

“I know it’ll be hard, Mom. Really hard!” Rationalizing, “But I’ll be able to see them, to be with them on weekends.”

“You’ll bring them here, then?”

“Sure, Dad! The kids love you and mom and always want to see you, so of course I’ll bring them here!”

Quiet a moment. “What I am sure of, though, is that I can not live with Marsha anymore and that I love, and do want to be with Elizabeth.”

“Money, Mitchell! Are you going to be able to live on your own and support your family?”

“Elizabeth makes a wonderful living—actually much more than me. She said she loves me and wants us to be married, and that she’ll help out with money and that things will work themselves out.”

“You left your home two hours ago and already you’re talking about marrying again, so soon?”

“Dad, yeah! When the time’s right, I can’t wait to marry Elizabeth.”

Glad, at least, that her son planned on marrying and not “living in sin.” “Well, my son,” Myra said, “you know I haven’t cared for your wife from since before you were married and that we, your father and me, we were always here for you when she, your wife, decided she didn’t want to be married to you so we’ll…” looking from Mitchell to her husband, “…be here for you now.”

“So when do we get to meet this Elizabeth?”

“Soon, Dad.”

“Mitchell, your Elizabeth, she a Jewish girl?”

“Yeah, Mom. Her last name’s Herzon and she’s a, uh, Scandinavian Jew.”

“A Scandinavian Jew? Never thought of many Jews coming from Scandinavia,” Myra said.

Once again feeling a sense of déjà vu. “Sure! Don’t you remember what the king of Denmark did when the Nazis made Jews wear Stars of David on their coats?”

“Yes, okay, we remember, Mitchell.”

“Wait till you meet her, Dad. Elizabeth’s beautiful! She’s a natural blonde and she’s absolutely beautiful! And she’s a really nice lady.”

“Mitchell, she went with you, a married man with children, so I don’t know how nice a lady she can be.”

Having no response to this, Mitchell said nothing.

“I’m…” glancing at his wife, “we’re looking forward to meeting her, but for now, where do you plan on staying?” Walter asked.

“Like I told you, Dad, I haven’t really figured it all out. I’ve an important customer to see at nine thirty, then I’m going to Elizabeth’s and we’re going to talk about it.”

“You’re not planning on living with Elizabeth now, are you, Mitchell?”

“Like I said, Mom…”

“Don’t even think about living with her! It’s not right; people that aren’t married living together.” Looking at her husband, then back to her son, “You’ll stay here!”

“Temporarily.”

“Dad, thank you!” Feeling a tremendous sense of relief, looking from his father to his mother, “Thank you!” he said sincerely. “Thank you!”

“As a matter of fact, it would probably be for the best if we don’t meet Elizabeth till after you’ve seen a lawyer and get a, uh…”

“Legal separation,” Walter interjected. “You want me to call Don Hoffman for you?”

Elizabeth’s divorce having gone through so easily, “No, Dad. Elizabeth has a close friend that’s a divorce attorney, and I think I’d like to use him.”

“What have you with you now?”

Understanding, “Just one suitcase. I’m going home, uh, to Des Plaines on Saturday to see the kids and get more of my stuff.”

“As long as you’re staying, you may as well bring it in.”

“Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate this.”

“Yeah,” Walter said tiredly. “I know.”

“You say you’ve got to go downtown, then you’re going to see your, uh, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“You’ll be home for dinner?”

“I’ll call to let you know, Mom.”

Another of those exclamation/questions: “You’ll sleep here tonight!?”

Sleeping with Elizabeth, spending a full night with Elizabeth, a heretofore unfulfilled dream, “I’ll let you know when I call, Mom. And do me a favor, will you?”

What’s that?” Walter asked.

“Don’t say anything to anyone else about this yet, please.”