A “Becoming Excerpt in sequence:

“Westerly Reflections”

Chicago, Illinois

June 18, 1955

“My God, Marcie! How come you always look so beautiful?”

Wearing a summer-weight light blue linen skirt with a matching, sailor collar jumper with white piping, and white high heeled pumps.

Proud and ‘profoundly’ happy to be with Marsha.

Taking her elbow they stepped from the sidewalk to the slightly moving, railed gangplank that went from shore to the permanently berthed, completely refurbished long-retired automotive ferry ship that was known as ‘The Columbia Yacht Club’.

Inside, Mitchell led her past a glass trophy case containing dozens of sailing trophies, then into the dining room.

Seeing them, an attractive blonde, middle-aged hostess, “Hi, Mitchie!” Leaving her stool at the near end of the bar. “How’s it going?”

“Fine, Mandy, just fine…. Mandy, I’d like you to meet Marsha.”

“Hi, Marsha. This the first time you’re aboard?”

“Yes. Actually this is the first time I’ve ‘ever’ been on a boat, uh,” remembering. Turning to Mitchell, smiling, “ ‘ship’.”

“Come on,” Mandy said. “I’m holding a table for you.”

****

Before becoming’ The Columbia Yacht Club’, the dining room had been the ship’s bridge and captain’s quarters. Now, three sides of the large room were glass exposing a panoramic view of ‘Navy Pier’ and ‘Lakeshore Drive’ to the north, the beautiful Chicago skyline to the west and the prestigious ‘Chicago Yacht Club’ and Lakeshore Drive to the south.

****

Even though it was only six-thirty, it was Sunday and the dining room was jammed with people dressed in all type of clothing: dirty, or somewhat dirty denims or shorts for the working sailors and those who’d been ‘rag bagging’ or ‘stink potting’ and somewhat cleaner, less disheveled clothing for their guests and other people such as Marsha and Mitchell, who were informally dressed for dinner.

As Mandy led them into the dining room, “Hey, Mitch!” they stopped at a table where a young man in denim slacks and jacket was sitting alone eating a hamburger.

“Karl!” Obviously glad to see each other. “Jesus, it’s good to see you!” Heartily shaking hands. “How the hell’ve you been?”

“Good, Mitch! When’d you get in?”

“Thursday… ‘Karl Metzenberg’—his mind flitted to the night of the ‘Friedman inquisition’ but, passing it off just as quickly—“I’d like you to meet Marsha Goldman.”

Standing, “Marsha, hi!” Impressed, Karl looked at her a moment, then sitting,“Mitch, we’re going out in about an hour or so.” Looking at Marsha again, “How’d you like to go for a nice, calm, moonlit sail?”

“Yeah! You bet!” Looking at her. “Sorry, Marcie. That’s only if you want to.”

“Yes!” Thrilled at the prospect. “I’d ‘love’ to! But what about clothes? Am I dressed okay?”

“Sure you are,” Karl said, “except for those high heels. Take ’em off and you’ll be just fine… Tell you what; you two take your time eating and ‘whenever’ you’re through just come aboard. We’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks, Karl. That’s really nice of you.”

“Don’t mention it, pal. For the Coast Guard I’d do just about anything.” Smiling at Marsha. “See you later. Enjoy your meal.”

Their table faced south, towards the prestigious Chicago Yacht Club where ‘everyone’ in the dining room was properly dressed for dinner.

“My, God, Mitchell, it’s so beautiful!”

Tickled that she was enjoying this as much as he. “Yeah, ‘you’ sure are.”

He ordered prime rib and Marsha, the fried shrimp dinner.

When, ‘shrimp’?” he questioned.

“ ‘Seafood’ I eat,” she responded, “but fish? ‘No’!”

**** 

“Wow! That’s it? My ‘God’, Mitchell, it’s beautiful!”

‘Undeen’, the Metzenberg schooner, was forty-five feet in length. Painted glossy-black with fine-line, white piping and brightly varnished teak-wood decks, hatches and rails. The two-masted boat had a galley, ‘head’ and room to comfortably sleep six or, if ‘friendly’, eight.

Besides Karl, two members of ‘Undeen’s’ permanent crew were there: Stephen Krugman with his wife, Sally, and Reiner Krout and his girlfriend, Rita.

“Steve! Reiner! Hey!”

Taking Marsha’s shoes and ‘peds’ as she — holding onto Mitchell’s shoulder for balance — pushed them off with her toes. Holding his hand as, hiking her calf-length dress over her knees, she stepped from the quay to the gunnel as, reaching to her, Stephen— in the cockpit — took her other hand as Marsha stepped onto the teak-wood deck then into the cockpit.

Both feet planted firmly, smiling at Stephen, “Thank you,” Marsha said, as…

Stepping from the quay onto the deck, “Marcie, meet Steve Krugman and Sally.” Shaking hands, “They’re old married folk.”

Nodding their heads,“Hi!”

“And this kraut’s ‘Krout’.” Leaning across the transom, shaking hands. “Reiner, hi!” Glancing from Reiner to Marsha, “And this is his girlfriend,” nodding to her, “Rita…”

“Hi!” Marsha said, nodding her head as she was introduced.

“…Or is it…?” Mitchell asked, “You guys married yet?”

“No,” Reiner looked at Rita, then away. “We ain’t married yet.”

‘Marriage’, obviously a sore spot between these two because Rita scowled at Reiner before— smiling a forced smile— making a half circle wave to Marsha. “But we ‘are’ goinna do it ‘any’ time now! Ain’t we, Reiner!.

“Yeah, babe. Sure we are!”

“ ‘Sure we are’!” Rita snapped back. “When cows shit sour cream!”

Having heard this argument before, many times, “How long you been in the Coast Guard now, Mitch?” Sally asked.

“About two and a half years.”

“Yeah!” Glaring at Reiner again, “ ‘bout as long as this guy’s been promisin’ we’re gonna get married!”

“Hey,” looking from Rita to Reiner. “I’m sorry! If I’d’a known I was going to start a fight, I’d never asked.”

“Nah, it’s okay, Mitch. Me’n Rita’s only playin’ around. Ain’t we, babe? ‘Wooff’!” Gasping, Reiner turned white as…

‘Playfully’ punching him in the stomach. “Yeah! Sure ‘we’re playin’ around. Ain’t we babe’!” Rita mimicked.

“Hey, we got company, here! Enough ‘bullshit’!” Putting his can of beer into the wooden holder to the side of the helm, Karl pushed the button starting the auxiliary motor. “Let’s get the show on the road!”

No doubt about who the captain was, “Sure, Karl!”

Flipping their cigarettes over the side. Stowing their beer also, Stephen began to remove the sail cover as, jumping to the wharf, Reiner went forward, released the bow line and tossed it aboard. Going aft Reiner released the stern line and hopped aboard as ‘Undeen’ backed away from the dock.

“I’ll stow the fenders.”

“Sit still, Mitch. You’re a guest here tonight. Rita’ll get ’em! Won’t you ‘babe’?”

Enjoying her position as a—unless her place aboard was needed by another guest— ‘secondary’ crew member. Considering these jaunts as a quickie kind of vacation. Jumping to it, “Yeah, sure, Karl.”

Making a quarter circle in reverse, Karl then pushed the gear reversing the screw and after a few feet of backward drift, the bronze propeller bit, moving the black schooner forward.

Passing the club tender—the powerboat that transported people from the club to boats secured to buoys, and back again—Karl tapped the button on the console and, ‘UU-OOGGHH’!

And, ‘UU-OOGGHH’! The horn on the tender answered back.

Navigating around boats that were under sail that had the right-of-way, and those moored to cans…

“Marcie,” pointing to starboard. “there’s my dad’s boat.”

“Where?” Although the sun was to port; glaring on the calm water, having to shade her eyes. “Where?” Marsha asked. “Which one is it?”

“There, at about two o’clock. See?” Pointing between a sloop and a motor cruiser, “There, the one with the white hull and green deck.”

“Oh, yes!” Much smaller and far less elegant than the boat she was on, nonetheless welcoming each bit of knowledge and information that led her deeper into Mitchell’s life,.“I see it now!”

“Not quite like this boat.”

“Doesn’t matter, Mitchie. It’s beautiful, too.”

****

Passing the last line of boats… Then the inner breakwater…

“Hoist main and mizzen!” Switching the auxiliary motor off, ‘Undeen’ drifted with forward momentum, as…

Sails unfurling, crackling in the light, evening breeze, Stephen and Reiner cranked brass handles on the fore and aft masts, as…

Head tilted back, Marsha followed the upward progression of the snow-white sails until— the breeze catching— moving forward and picking up speed ‘Undeen’ heeled to port, as…

Grabbing hold of Mitchell’s knee. “Oh, my God!” Her knees tensing, about to bound to the high side…

“This the first time you’ve been sailin’, Marcie?”

Strands of hair blowing across her face, brushing them back and trying to hold them down. “Yes.” Swallowing nervously, looking from Sally to the water that bubbled by the lowered rail.

“Don’t worry, honey, this crew’s ‘great’.” Rita said. “An’ this ain’t even what’ch’ya’d call a breeze. ‘Shit’! I was aboard once when we were barrelin’ ‘cross this lake and they hoisted the red flag, and…”

“ ‘Red flag’?”

“Yeah. The hurricane warnin’.”

“ ‘Hurricane’? We never get hurricanes here! Do we?”

“No, not usually,” Mitchell answered. “But a red flag here can be the near equivalent of a hurricane on the east coast.”

“Yeah,” Rita continued. “Scared the livin’ shit outta me, but we made it okay.” Still attempting to calm Marsha’s fear. “Now this, ‘this’ ain’t nothin’! Right, Sal? Remember?”

“ ‘Jesus Christ’!” Shaking her head, “How could I ever forget? It was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through.”

Sitting on the low side ‘trying’ to relax, “You two come sailing all the time?”

“Nah, only if it’s just cruisin’, an’ Karl asks the guys if we want to; an’ if we ain’t workin’, sure! It’s almost like a free vacation.”

Picking up more speed, the boat passed the outer breakwater.

His arm protectively around Marsha. “I’ve been through hurricanes twice now. Caught a ‘cat one’ in the tower at Rockaway,and the tail end of another on the ship. Scared the shit outt’a me, too, Rita.”

Reiner passed a pack of Chesterfields. Taking one, Mitchell passed the light from his Zippo.

“If you want anything...” looking from Marsha to Mitchell, “...you know where it is. Just make yourself at home,” Karl said, “and go get it.”

Standing. “Think I’ll get me a beer.” Stephen went to the cabin. “Anyone else?”

“Yeah, me… Marcie,” Mitchell asked, “you want a can of beer or some pop?”

Holding onto the boat with one hand and Mitchell’s knee the other. “Uh-uh!” Shaking her head negatively. “No, nothing, thanks.”

“Yeah,” draining what’s left in his can. “Get me one, too, will you.” Squashing the can, Reiner tossed it overboard.

“You say you’ve been through two hurricanes?”

“Yeah, Karl. It was a ‘bitch’ on the ship. We’d rise on the crest till we thought we were going through the sky then down in the trough till it felt like a roller-coaster and ‘shit’, you’d think God dumped a billion gallons of water on you,” he laughed. “Which I guess he did.”

“The other one,” Marsha questioned, trying to keep her mind off the heel of the boat and the rushing water. “the hurricane at Rockaway?”

Taking the can and nodding ‘thanks’. Popping the tab. “That one scared the shit out of me but, believe it or not, I ended up kind of enjoying.”

“How could you ‘ever’ enjoy a hurricane?” Looking to port, Karl could still see the tall tower of the ‘Randolph Street Life Boat Station’. “And in one of those, yet!” nodding his head over his shoulder.

Looking at the distancing tower. “Hell, the tower at Rockaway’s more than four miles from the station; not a sissy like that one that’s attached to a brick building. Shit! The one at Rockaway’s on a skinny strip of land that overlooks the Atlantic on one side and Coney Island and Sheepshead Bay on the other, and…” drawing on the cigarette, swigging some beer, “...when the winds hit I thought the fu…” looking at Marsha, “…the tower was going to take off, then this old guy and woman came out to…I still can’t figure why they did it.”

“Did ‘what’?” Reiner asked.

“Yeah,” Sally piped in, “what’d they do?”

“You said they were old. How old?”

“I don’t know, Marcie. I’d say… I don’t know, thirty-five, forty, maybe. Anyway, I lost track of ’em for a little while, you know, reporting in on the stupid, schmuck fishermen…” He looked at Marsha again, but she didn’t appear to be shocked by his language. “…who were too, uh, damned stupid to go ashore when there’s hurricane warnings. Well, when I’m sure they’re all finally in I take my binoculars and look for these two people again, and when I spot ’em I can’t believe what they’re doing.” Drawing on the cigarette, he tilted the can of beer to his mouth.

“Yeah?” Stephen asked. “So what in the hell were they doin’?”

“They were naked.”

“ ‘Naked’?”

“Yeah, Karl. They were running around the point buck-ass naked wanting to…” glancing at Marsha, “screw in a hurricane.”

“They didn’t know you were there?”

“At first I didn’t know if they knew I was there. Although I couldn’t imagine how they wouldn’t know someone was in the tower.” Thinking back to when the woman had waved to him and the man’s response when he’d given him the victory sign. “Yeah, of course they had to know someone was there! Anyway, I got so interested in what these two were doing …”

“You ‘watched’?” Marsha asked incredulously.

Causing the men on the boat to smile.

“Well, yeah. ‘Sure’ I watched!” Mitchell said. “I got so interested in what these two were doing that I almost forgot about the hurricane. And I guess it wasn’t that much of a hurricane ’cause the winds only got up to seventy-five, eighty miles an hour but...” looking at Rita, “...it sure scared the shit out of me… At least till my two old pals showed up and took my mind off it.”

“You watched them do it?” Sally asked. “The ‘whole’ thing? With binoculars, yet?”

Crushing the can, he threw it over the side. “Yeah! You bet!”

“Boy, ain’t that ‘just’ like a man!”

But Rita as well as Sally knew that, given the opportunity— without a doubt— they would have watched also.

“When I stood a four-hour watch it was ‘my’ beach, and if they’re too damn dumb to realize there’s a lookout in the tower, then they deserve to be watched. Besides...” looking at… ‘comically’ leering at Marsha, wiggling his right eyebrow, “...I learned lots’a ‘real’ neat stuff from those two.”

“Yeah...” Marsha asked, kissing his nose, “...what kind of real neat stuff?”

“Maybe you’ll find out...” kissing her nose back, “...someday.”

****

Now, at 7:53, the sun was beginning to set.

Over the lake, to the west, the sky was darkening.

“Marsha, look.”

Turning, looking westerly…

Speckled with fractured clouds, to the west the sky was ablaze with color: red, gold and purple. Tinting the city’s skyscrapers, the hues of the sunset reflected off their windows in a panorama of sparkling pinpoint colors.

“My, God!” she said softly, reverently. “It’s so beautiful!”

“Karl, okay to take a cushion forward?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Slackening the sheet, spilling the wind, “I’ll keep this tack.” ‘Undeen’ rode on an even keel.

“Thanks, pal.”

Standing. Taking both of Marsha’s hands. “Come on.”

“Where?” Though the boat no longer heeled, not too happy about leaving the comfort and safety of the cockpit. “Do we ‘have’ to?”

“Yes.” Taking the cushion they’d been sitting on. Promising, “I won’t let you fall overboard!” He stepped from the cockpit to the deck.

Marsha hesitated. Then, holding his hand tightly, stepped up.

Leading her forward he laid the cushion lengthwise facing the sunset.

Sitting with his back propped against the mast. “Come on.” Mitchell patted the space between his spread legs…

Alone. Hidden by the rise of the cabin, Marsha sat with her back reclining against Mitchell’s chest.

Her head resting on his shoulder. His cheek upon her cheek. His arms about her waist, their four clasped hands lay upon her lap.

Alone…

Quiet…

Quiet, and so…

But for the faint movement of water. The slight crackling of sails. The balmy silence of the gently palpating breeze… and each other’s warm breath.

It was quiet…

Quiet and peaceful…

Peaceful… So lovingly peaceful.

The first wispy shreds of a large bank of broken clouds passed across the face of the lowering sun causing silvery-gold streamers of light to charge across the horizon.

As the body of splintered clouds crossed the orange orb, the sky became bathed in a colossal kaleidoscope of hues: orange, red, purple, blue and gray, and all underlain with translucent, silvery-gold.

“Please, baby, don’t think I’m being ‘corny.” Speaking softly, his mouth alongside her ear. “But right now is something I’ve prayed for all my life. I’ve seen ‘hundreds’ of beautiful sunsets…” hugging her even tighter, Marsha could actually feel the beat of his heart against her back, “…and sometimes they’re so beautiful I thank God for whatever beauty there is in my life. but whenever that happened it always made me lonely and sometimes I felt like crying because I didn’t have anyone to share the beauty with, and…” The emotion becoming too much, his eyes watering. His voice catching. Taking a few moments, until… “...Marsha,” he said emotively, “I swear that I’ve ‘never’ seen a more beautiful sunset or that ‘any’ girl has ever been as beautiful to me as you are right now and I ‘never’ thought I could love anyone as much as I love you.”

Feeling his warm breath on her ear. Hearing the heartfelt, softly spoken words and his faltering voice. Experiencing a deluge of emotion, “Mitchie, I’ve ‘always’ loved you…” her eyes overrunning, too. “I’ve loved you since that first night we met.” Turning her face to his, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone but you.”

His hand held in hers. Moving both from her lap. repositioning his right arm over her shoulder Marsha moved Mitchell’s hand to beneath her blouse, to under her bra and held it, tightly, palm down to her left breast and other than hers...

For the first time in her life feeling a hand held fully upon her bare breast, Marsha kissed Mitchell gently, with soft passion.

Marsha still felt the beat of Mitchell’s heart upon her back… And Mitchell felt the beat of Marsha’s heart through the fathomless softness of Marsha’s breast.

As the urge to touch and hold Marsha’s breast had been all but overpowering the night before and earlier today…

Now, oddly, the feel of Marsha’s bare breast within the palm of his hand was…?

To Mitchell Lipensky, the feel of Marsha Goldman’s breast was holy and the ‘thump’, ‘thump’ thumping of this girl’s heart in the palm of his hand meant more to Mitchell than anything, than ‘anything’ in the past.

“I love you.”

Next “Becoming” excerpt in Sequence: “Meeting Eli/Silver Speck”