A “ Becoming” excerpt in sequence:

“Finding Marsha”

June 16, 1955 toJuly 2, 1955

Chicago, Illinois

Finding Marsha 

On any warm evening, except for the ‘high holidays’ when the restaurant was closed, the entry to Askanaz would be packed and the sidewalk in front of the popular delicatessen crowded with the overflow of people waiting to hear their names called, along with younger people who were there just to see ‘who’s around’.

Arriving minutes apart, the girls waited twenty minutes before being seated.

In a booth on the east wall towards the back of the restaurant sitting across from each other, Shelly faced towards the front.

A waitress standing alongside their booth, Marsha ordered hot brisket on a kaiser roll and a Coke. Shelly, pastrami on rye and a Coke. As usual the girls shared an order of French fries.

****

Arriving at the Parminter apartment at seven, Mitchell had spent a few minutes with Frank and Ida getting caught up on family matters.

Leaving the apartment at seven-fifteen and driving to Morris Avenue, Mitchell searched awhile before finding a place to park in this congested neighborhood.

It was a bit past eight when standing in line, they were waiting to give their names to the hostess…

****

Their ‘Cokes’ having been brought. Awaiting their sandwiches and fries. “Hey,”, the straw dropping into her Coke “dibbies on the blonde guy!”

Turning in the booth. Looking over her shoulder…

Deeply tanned from the spring patrol and hours of shirtless work parties in the hot, Atlantic sun, he wore a white sport shirt opened three buttons down, worn Levi’s, and his old, white-buck shoes.

…Mitchell! Snapping her body forward.

Knowing her friend appreciated a good-looking boy as much as she, “Marcie, what’s wrong?”

“Shelly, you ‘don’t’ recognize them?”

“Why...” Looking at the two young men giving a name to the hostess, Shelly’s forehead furled in thought, “...should I?”

“Think!”

“You know I’d never forget any guys that look that good!”

“Oh, yeah? Remember the ‘Palladium’?”

“The Palladium?” Shelly questioned. “In ‘Union Pier’?”

“Yes. About, uh,” thinking, “six years ago.”

“Yeah!” Dawning on her. “Sure! The dark guy’s the guy that thought you were too young for him… uh?”

“ ‘Mitchell’.”

“Yeah, Mitchell. And the other guy’s… ‘Norman’!”

“You got it!” Looking over her shoulder again. “You want me to see if they’d like to sit with us?”

“Marcie, you know I’ve ‘always’ had a thing for blonde guys! And somehow I get the impression that ‘you’ sure want ‘em to sit with us… Sure! Go on. See if they want to.”

Standing within the mob of people inside the open door. Craning his neck to see if there was anyone that he recognized…

Traversing the large room slowly,  'Marsha'! His pulse quickening, Mitchell’s eyes stopped at the right side of the restaurant when he saw a tall, familiar-looking girl stand up, step out of the booth and begin to weave her way between the scattered tables towards the front of the delicatessen.

“So, see anyone we know?”

“Yeah…” Approaching. Fastening and holding, Marsha’s dark-brown eyes meeting Mitchell’s green eyes. “...we do.”

Looking across the room, Norman watched the tall, slender girl as she made her way towards them. “We know her, don’t we!”

“Oh, yeah, we do.”

Having to turn sideways to avoid an anxious customer...“Mitchell.”

Jostled by the crowd. Eyes locked. Neither smiling. The young man and woman stood a yard apart.

Swallowing, “Marsha...” Holding his hand forward. “...Hi.”

Looking down. Realizing he wanted to take her hand… Wanted to, ‘Yes!’ hold her hand. Moving her hand to his hand…

Touching.

Mitchell’s hand closed about Marsha’s hand and— the handshake no longer merely a handshake— Their fingers twining about each other’s… The threads of what they’d lost on that dark road on their walk from Union Pier to Lakeside six years earlier were picked up and began to tighten about their hearts as…

The sight of this young woman! The mere touch of her hand in his warming him, comforting him as the touch of no hand had since… in three years. At a loss for words.

The sight of this young man. The mere touch of her hand in his warming her in a way such as the mere touch of a hand had ‘never’ warmed her before.

“Uh...” Breaking the intense eye contact but unwilling to let go of her hand. “Norm, you remember Marsha… uh?” Looking at the girl, embarrassed he reluctantly released her hand.

“Goldman,” she said, smiling. “ ‘Marcie Goldman’.”

“Yeah! ‘Goldman’! That’s it… Norm, this is Marsha Goldman.”

Their eyes upon each again, “ ‘Goldman’! ‘Goldman’! I won’t forget it again!”

“Yeah,” Norman said, “we met about a year ago; at the J.”

“No… Well, yes. But think back. We two met each other ‘long’ before that.”

“ ‘Rrally’?”

“Yes. Sure we did. And you even know my girlfriend.” Turning to the rear, Marsha motioned to Shelly.

Seeing them looking at her, lifting her arm Shelly wiggled her hand from side to side.

Squinting. Even from this distance Norman could see that she was cute and hadn’t the slightest qualm about meeting her. But, shaking his head,“No,” he said, “I don’t remember meeting either of you girls before.”

“Oh, you’ll remember all right!” Marsha said knowingly, adding, “How’d you guys like to sit with us?”

“Yeah,” Norman said, “we’d love to!”

Following Marsha to the booth, “Shelly,” she said, “you remember Norman and Mitchell.”

“Do I remember Norman and Mitchell? Yes,” Shelly replied, “of ‘course’ I do!”

This confusing him all the more, making room for him, Norman sat alongside Shelly.

Marsha slid into the empty seat. Mitchell followed and sitting closely together, each aware of the warmth, the outsides of their thighs touched.

Shaking his head, “No,” looking at her closely, “I’d never forget anyone as cute as you, Shelly, but I’m sorry, I just can’t remember where I’d met you before.”

“I am ‘crushed’!” Shelly said, feigning hurt feelings. “You ‘really’ don’t remember walking me home in Union Pier?”

“Union Pier? No,” thinking. “No, sorry, I don’t.”

“Marcie and me were in the Palladium playing pinball, and you and Mitchell came over and we started to talk… Remember?” Still seeing a blank look on his face. “And then we went to the bowling alley, and then you guys…”

“Oh, ‘yeah’!” Remembering. “ ‘Lakeside’! You two lived in Lakeside and me’n’Mitch walked you home!” Smiling. “Yeah! Hi!” Leaning closer he kissed her on the cheek. “Now I remember, sure!” He said happily. “Shelly, my old pal, how the ‘hell’ are you?”

“Fine, Norm! Just ‘fine’!” Punching him playfully on the shoulder. “How the hell are you?”

“Now that I’ve finally met you again, I’m fine, too!”

The waitress, standing alongside the booth holding a tray with sandwiches and an order of fries,.“You boys wann’a order somethin’?” she asked as she put the pastrami on rye in front of Shelly and the hot brisket sandwich on the table before Marsha.

Even though he’d had dinner no more than two hours earlier, “Yeah,” Mitchell said. “A corned beef on an onion roll and a chocolate egg-cream.”

“We don’t have none’a them.”

“Corned beef? You don’t have ‘corned beef’? Onion rolls?”

“No… ‘Yes’, we got corned-beef’n’onion rolls!” Looking at Mitchell as though he were a bug. “We don’t have the other… the what’ch’a’ma’call’it.”

“ ‘Egg-cream’? Oh, yeah,” remembering that egg-creams were indigenous to New York City. “Okay, then, I’ll have a corned beef on an onion roll and a chocolate phosphate, and I like it extra sweet, please.”

Speaking to Norman, “An’ what about you, sport?”

“Uh, I’ll have the same…” Looking at Marsha’s sandwich, “No, give me what she has, and a cherry Coke.”

Turning from the booth, beginning to walk away…

“Ma’am,” Mitchell called after her.

“Turning back, “Yes?”

“Put it all on one bill.” Pointing to the dishes in front of the girls, “theirs, too.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mitch.”

“Yeah, he ‘do’!”

“It’s okay, Marcie,” glancing at Norman, “I want to.”

Laughing, “Hell!” Norman said, looking at Marsha. “Ol’ Scrooge here,” nodding his head towards Mitchell, “must really be trying to impress you.”

“Yeah,” looking at Marsha. “I guess I am… Go ahead, eat. You girls don’t have to wait for us.”

“No, we’ll wait for you guys.” Sipping her Coke, “How’s your brother, uh…?”

“I got two now. But the one you saw that night is Larry.”

“Larry, right!” Remembering. “What’s the other’s name?”

Not knowing the true story, “Poor kid. My mom named him…” beginning to laugh, “ ‘Morton Humphrey Lipensky’. Ain’t that a mouthful? How’s your brother… What’s his name?”

Fighting the urge to curl her lip, “Roger.”

“Yeah. How’s Roger?”

“Fine. He got married, oh, about six months ago and Brenda, that’s his wife, she’s three months pregnant now. He works for my dad.”

Reappearing with their sandwiches and drinks, conversation stopped as the waitress placed them in front of the boys.

“So tell me, where’d you guys disappear to last year?”

Swallowing what was in his mouth. “When are you talking about?” Norman asked.

“When I saw you two at the J.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘then’… This pal of ours, Ron Lurey, introduced us to…”

Remembering, “ ‘Irv Steinberg’!” Norman began to laugh.

“Irv Steinberg! Yeah, what a…” Thinking of the whore fiasco, Mitchell, too, began to laugh.

Giggling, “What’s so funny?” Shelly asked.

Attempting to stop, “Oh, nothing.” But, looking at Norman, Mitchell began to laugh harder.

Catching the laughter’s contagious infection. “Come on, you guys,” Marsha, also, began to laugh, and barely able to get the words out. “tell us what’s so funny!”

Hearing the uncontrollable laughter, people at neighboring tables looked to the booth.

Taking his glasses off. Rubbing his palms over his teary eyes. Gasping the words, “We can’t tell you!”

“Come on, Norman!” Poking Mitchell in the ribs with her elbow. “Sure you can!” But only succeeded in making him laugh all the harder.

“Oh, no! Believe me, we can’t!”

“You guys…” Shelly stammered, “get all the fun.”

Out of breath now, the hysterical laughter stopping slowly. “Know what I think, Shell?” Marsha said. “I think they went to the whore.”

The boys looked at each other, then at Marsha.

“How the hell’d you know about the whore?” Norman asked.

“How? It was all over 'Roosevelt' on Monday. There were about a hundred guys there, and when the cops came there was a kind’a riot and twenty-three of ’em got arrested.” Looking at Mitchell, “It ‘was’ the whore, wasn’t it?”

“Uhh…”

Looking at each other, the boys smiled.

“Yeah,” Norman said sheepishly,“we were there.”

“But it sure as hell wasn’t our idea!” Mitchell said defensively. “It was that putz, Lurey. He dragged us there, and we were never up there, uh, with the whore.” Adding, “Jesus, it was the funniest thing I ever saw! You think, Normie?”

“Yeah, it was!” Adding defensively, also, “And we never even got close.”

“The idiot that had the whore up there didn’t want his neighbors to know that he had a whore up there, so he had all the guys come ‘round the back…”

“Yeah,” Norman’s laughter coming again. “and guys were all over the place. And just so’s everyone knew they were in the right place — I couldn’t believe it!—the stupid guy had a…”

“Red light!” Mitchell interrupted, breaking up again.

“ ‘A red light’?” Shelly asked. “Really? A red light!”

“Yeah! Well, like we said, we didn’t think it was such a hot idea in the first place…”

“Actually,” Mitchell interjected, “I thought it was a real…” looking at the girls, speaking softly, “shitty idea!”

“Yeah, actually I did, too, and when we saw all those guys, whether Lurey wanted to or not, we figured the hell with it!”

“And when we heard the cops, we took off.”

“ ‘Fast’,” Norman added.

Becoming serious, looking at Marsha, “Yeah, fast! And I rushed back to the J to see if you were still there, but you’d gone.”

“You could have tried calling! I did tell you my name!”

“I don’t have such a hot memory, and couldn’t remember if you said your name was Goodman, Goldstein, Goldman, or Golden. God, do you have ‘any’ idea how many Goodmans, Goldsteins, Goldmans, or Goldens there are in the Chicago telephone book?”

Attempting to hide her pleasure. “You tried calling me, huh, ‘really’?”

“Yeah, Marcy, sure!” He smiled. “I cannot tell a lie.”

“ ‘You cannot tell a lie’? Who are you, George Washington?”

“No. I’m not George Washington, but I ‘cannot’ tell a lie.”

“Jeeze, a guy that doesn’t lie,” Shelly said. “That’s different.”

“Yeah, I cannot tell a lie because I ‘always’ get caught.”

Forgetting what Marsha had told him last time. His thoughts and intentions not being all that honorable and afraid that she might still be too young for him. Just to be on the safe side, “Marcy,” he asked timidly, “you don’t, uh, still go to high school, do you?”

“Are you starting ‘that’ again, Mitchell?” she scolded jokingly, but…

Not picking up on it. “No,” he said seriously, “but…”

Seeing the pained look on his face, “Don’t worry, I graduated a year ago.”

Relieved, “I wasn’t worried.” he lied. “You going to college?”

“No. I’m a ‘meat-packe’r.”

“Huh?” Norman stared at her. “A meat-packer?”

“Like in the stockyards?” Mitchell asked disbelievingly.

“No. Not ‘like in the stockyards’. I fit and sell brassieres and girdles in a lingerie shop over on Lincoln Avenue.”

Not understanding the pun, “Oh,” Norman said.

“You kids be wantin’ somethin’ else?”

Looking from the waitress to the girls. “You guys want dessert or anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Thanks, Mitchie, but I’m stuffed”

“Well, so long as you’re paying, Lipensky, I’ll have…”

“Forget it, Parminter… No, ma’am, just the bill, please.”

****

Outside in the warm, spring air. Standing within the throng of milling people.

“I remember,” Norman said, “when we first met you two, Mitch’n’me wanted to go to the beach and you said…”

“ ‘No doubt to watch the submarine races’.”

Remembering. “And you also said, ‘You don’t know us well enough.’ Well, we’ve known each other for about six years now. So how’s about a walk down by the beach?”

Not waiting for either girl’s answer. Taking the initiative, reaching to Shelly’s hand, Norman led her out of the crowd.

Glancing at each other, Marsha and Mitchell followed.

****

Separating sand from grass, the sidewalk ran crookedly south and north seemingly going on forever. Millions of minute sparkling pinpoints of light emanating from its creamy surface — reflecting moonlight caused the concrete ribbon to glow a milky, iridescent white.

Far in the lead— as they had been six years earlier— Shelly and Norman were all but out of sight.

Strolling slowly. Silently feeling the night’s beauty and close proximity of each other, Marsha and Mitchell walked side by side without touching… Except every now and then their loosely hanging hands ‘accidentally’ brushed each other.

Looking to his right, “You know,” he said after a while, “it’s really amazing how things work out. I mean like us, now.”

Looking to her left. “Yes, it is."

" In Union Pier that night, when you got mad at me and ran away… Strange, but even now I remember how badly I felt.”

“Well, Mitchie, you were right, I was too young for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know… Yeah, I guess you were. How old are you now?”

“I’ll be nineteen in October. You?”

“Twenty-one in August.”

“You like the Coast Guard? Why’d you join?”

“Well,” using Norman’s rational, “I’d started at Wright, and wasn’t going anyplace very fast and thought the Coast Guard would give me time to sort of figure out what I wanted to do. And, yeah, I liked the Coast Guard okay, then I got shipped to Rockaway, and…”

“ ‘Rockaway’? Oh, yeah! You told me last time, in New York.”

“Yeah… The old man, uh, the skipper there is a…” Stopping, he looked for a word that could best describe Ewing and his feelings towards him without offending her. “Excuse me, Marcie, but the only way I can describe that son-of-a-bitch is as a first class asshole.”

“It’s okay, Mitch, I’ve heard the word before.”

“Maybe you have, Marcie, but I don’t like swearing in front of girls. But that’s the ‘only’ way I can describe him because he hates Jews and did everything he could possibly do to make me hate him, too. And by the time I got transferred from Rockaway I hated the Coast Guard also. So now all I’m doing is putting my time in, waiting to get out.”

“That’s terrible, that someone like that could be in charge of a place like that… You said you’re not at Rockaway anymore?”

“No. I had a run in with the… skipper, and transferred to sea duty. I’m on a weather ship now.”

“Now you see,” smiling, “you learn something new all the time. What’s a ‘weather ship’?”

“We go to sea for four to six weeks at a time, reporting weather conditions and in winter to see if there’s any icebergs floating around that could be dangerous to other ships.” He chuckled. “In winter we’re usually somewhere north of Newfoundland freezing our… ‘tushes’ off and in summer, when we wouldn’t mind things being just a bit cooler, they send us to patrol off Bermuda.”

“Sounds like it could get kind of boring at times.”

“Nah, it ain’t so bad. Matter of fact, in a way it’s kind of relaxing, being at sea with nothing to worry about except doing your work…” Adding, “unless there’s a girl ashore that you miss.”

Looking at him. “Is there ‘a girl ashore that you miss’?”

Quiet a number of seconds... When Marsha thought he was not going to answer…

“No,” he said softly. Adding, “not until now.”

Feeling her heart lurch, ‘Not until now’. Getting the answer she’d wanted but not sure how to respond. “How long till you’re discharged?” she asked.

Hoping for some sort of positive response to his ‘not until now’. But not too sure if she’d even heard him. “Almost a year and a half.” he answered.

“Oh! That’s ‘such’ a long time, Mitchie!”

The tone of Marsha’s voice causing him to look at her. “Yeah, I guess it is.” Pointing to a bench. “Let’s sit for a while.”

They sat a foot apart looking at the reflection of the moon’s wide tail on the calm water of Lake Michigan.

Overcoming much of his shyness, Mitchell had been much more aggressive with the girls he’d met in the past two years, by this time kissing them—or at least ‘attempting’ to kiss them—and he wondered about his sudden shyness with this girl whom, if taken piece by piece, was just about as far from what he thought ‘his type of girl’ was as a girl could possibly be.

Now, though, inching closer—again feeling the heat of her thigh against his—bringing his arm over the back of the bench, his hand brushed her hair and, holding a few strands within his fingers, looking at Marsha in profile, the two sat without speaking: he looking at her and she looking at the water.

Marsha was aware that Mitchell was touching her hair—the sense of just his touch sending a shiver through her—Turning her face to his she forced a smile, however Mitchell did not smile in return and her smile faded as— looking at him— Marsha suddenly had the sensation that they were alone in the world. Just this young man and herself, as…

Not yet sure if he was happy that this was happening again. But for the first time since—the thought ‘truly’ no longer hurting him—For the first time since Susan Mitchell had the sensation that he and a girl… That he and this young woman were alone in the world, and…

In two minds there was the remembrance of a balmy night— such as this night— with soft music and fireflies and an innocent soul-touching kiss, and…

Kiss me! Marsha’s mind willing him, ‘Kiss me’! And…

Each feeling the softness as they came together gently. Their lips barely touching then parted. And this innocent, passionless kiss, for the second time—with this same young man—in Marsha Goldman’s eighteen years and the third time—twice now with this same young woman—in Mitchell Lipensky’s twenty-one years, this innocent, passionless kiss — though neither had the slightest inkling— foretold their future.

Moving closer now.

Mitchell’s hand upon the back of her head guided Marsha’s head and lips back to his as, without hesitation, Marsha twined her arms about his neck and this kiss not ‘quite’ as passionless nor ‘quite’ as innocent as the first as— the first touch and caress of tongues on lips sent a sweet, subliminal jolt then, a moment later, the fondling of their unfamiliar tongues fired waves of excitement throughout Marsha and Mitchell, as…

Holding tighter, Mitchell felt the yielding pressure of Marsha’s breasts against his chest, as…

Moving her hand against the back of his head, forcing Mitchell’s mouth harder onto hers, and…

As though attempting to make up for the years the two had been lost to each other, their kiss became even more heated, even more impassioned, as…

Subconsciously, the emotion of this kiss fused with the emotion of two past kisses there came to Mitchell the sensation of being kissed… There came to Mitchell the sensation of kissing a girl within a field of swirling snow… Or might it be fireflies? And…

Enraptured with the taste and touch of this kiss, as their upper bodies strained onto each other his splayed fingers held Marsha within the warmth of— wearing a sleeveless blouse—her bare armpit where the palm of his hand rested upon the soft swell of the outer side of her compressed breast and from the heat generated upon his hand he knew it was not padding that he felt and, Oh, God, how he wanted to hold this girl! But…

Her mouth open to his, the erotic probing of their tongues as much due to her passion as his and— psychologically reeling— this kiss emotionally was like no kiss Marsha had ever received, or given but now she did realize that he was touching—somewhat, kind of—touching her breast and as much as she did ‘not’ want to break the kiss or the mood, or ‘really’ for that matter, move his hand, Marsha did have her instinctive boundaries—especially with this, their first adult kiss—and was about to remove Mitchell’s hand when…

 Next “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: “Fireflys or Snowflakes”