A FBOW excerpt in sequence: “Sixty-Eight Rubbers”

Standing in line waiting to order his hamburger, fries and a chocolate shake outside of ‘McDonald’s’ in Skokie Village, he recalled the conversation on that Sunday morning when he’d driven to Chicago to retrieve Marsha and the offer his parents friend ‘Sam Katz’ had made, and Walter’s response of…

“Four thousand dollars for a fast food place called ‘Old McDonald’s’? Nah, it doesn’t sound like such a good idea to me.”

________________________________________________

Skokie/Chicago, Illinois

April 23, 1958 —

Finished eating, against his better judgement he decided to call home. ….Marsha didn’t answer the phone and as it was a pretty spring day he concluded that she’d taken Michael for a walk in the buggy.

...“Tats, hi. My folks around?”

“No, Mitch, they’re out to lunch with Winkler.

Relieved that he didn’t have to talk to either of them. “Any calls for me?”

“Hold on, let me check.” Punching the hold button Tats went into Myra’s office and checked Mitchell’s cubbyhole. “No, nothing.”

“Thanks. Tell ‘em I’ll check back later.”

Dropping the receiver onto the cradle, he considered going home. But not wanting to be home too early today and face even more of his wife’s contempt, because when he came home too early he always got the feeling she thought he should still be out working—or maybe he felt guilty because he ‘wasn’t’ still out working.

Having to go in that general direction anyway. Considering doing an hour’s worth of canvassing there, returning to Evanston he stopped to call home again. When the phone was not answered after seven rings, Maybe it’s just as well, he thought.

As it was one of those sparkling, crystal clear spring days, truly not feeling like working, Mitchell drove north along Sheridan Road, through Wilmette and Winnetka to the view site overlooking Lake Michigan; to where he’d driven the night he discovered that Marsha had moved in with her parents.

Thinking he would be alone because it was a week day and the kids were still in school, he was surprised to find five cars parked along the horseshoe shaped perimeter, all with salesman types, like himself.

Lowering the top and taking his jacket and tie off, Mitchell spent the next hour building—word by word—a mental scenario of what he planned on saying in apology for getting drunk the night before and what he hoped Marsha’s response would be.

Backing away from the rim of land at 2:25, he drove through Winnetka, Wilmette and Evanston into Chicago.

****

Stopping at a florist on Howard Street he purchased one long stemmed red rose.

****

Coming out of the car. Holding the cello wrapped rose with its baby’s breath filler, taking a deep breath, opening the outer door he walked up the flight of stairs. Taking another deep breath, putting his key in the lock, opening the… “Marcie!” ...door. “Honey, I’m…”

His words sounding hollow in the bare apartment. Bare that is except for 68 redi-wet, foil Pac prophylactics that—as a sign of contempt—Marsha had scattered over the refinished, but now scuffed hardwood floor.

His mind, “Marsha?” not accepting what his eyes saw. Going to the dining room he stood in the place where his son’s crib had been.

“Oh, Mikey! My God, not again!”

Going into the kitchen, Mitchell looked to where he’d last seen his wife and baby. “Marsha, why?” He went to the bedroom and that, too, was empty… Except for whatever clothing he’d had in the dresser, which had been dumped onto the floor. His clothes that had been hanging in the closet, still hung in the closet.

Thinking, My God, he slumped to the floor in the corner of the bedroom. What did I do? Still holding the cello wrapped rose, Why? His chin dropped onto his chest. His throat constricted. Tears stinging his eyes. “Why?” he cried aloud. “How can you do this to me again?”

****

Not knowing if she was there, or if she was if she’d even buzz him in, about to ring the bell, a tenant leaving the building opened the outer door.

****

Standing in the hall outside of apartment912. “Where are Marsha and Mikey?”

Inside the apartment, holding the door slightly ajar. “She’s gone, Mitchell.”

“Gone?” His voice rising. “What in the hell do you mean ‘gone’, Rhea? ‘Where’s my wife’?”

“Don’t you dare stand in my hall and shout at me!”

“Okay, ‘fine’!” Shoving the door open and pushing past her, going into the apartment he looked in the bedroom then the dining room and kitchen, but there was no sign of Marsha, Michael or any of their belongings.

“For God’s sake, Rhea, ‘please’! I swear I didn’t do anything to make your daughter leave me! ‘Please’, Rhea, please tell me where Marsha and Mikey are?”

“Mitchell...” Attempting to sound believable, “...I told you ‘I don’t know’!” Rhea said crossly,

Sighing. Fighting back tears, rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes. “Oh, God!” Holding his forehead in both hands. “Rhea, honest to God, I do not know what this is all about!” Lowering his hands, he looked at her. “Your daughter’s been mad at me for three days and, okay, when she was out last night I had a little too much to drink and got kind’a drunk, but it’s the first time she’s seen me that way since we’ve been married. Rhea, ‘please’! I can’t go through this again! For God’s sake, please tell me where they are.”

“Mitchell, I would if I could,” she lied. “All I know is that Marsha has been very unhappy about the way you’ve been treating her.”

“ ‘The way I’ve been treating her’? Yeah, we still fight about my parents...” he said sadly, “...but honest to God, Rhea, I haven’t done anything to deserve this. For her to take my son and our furniture and just move out? Rhea...” pleading, “...please...” he asked again, “...where is she?”

“All I know is, she called this morning and said she had to get away for a while! That she had to get someplace where she can think, and she said if I knew where she was going, maybe I’d tell you...” still lying, “...so she wouldn’t tell me and I don’t know where she is!”

A thought coming to him, “Dad!” Knowing how close the were. “Maybe she told her father where she was going,” he said hopefully.

“Eli?” Rhea said incredulously. “This’ll only disturb him, but call if you like. But believe me, Eli knows nothing from nothing!”

Knowing she meant this in the ‘fullest’ sense. Also knowing this, at the very least, to be true .

Not believing Rhea didn’t know where her daughter and grandson were, Mitchell stared at his mother-in-law for a full thirty seconds. But thinking this lady was the spring of his wife’s stubbornness, he knew she was not going to tell him and not wanting to alienate Rhea completely, thinking he’d call Roger, whom he knew had little fondness for his mother and even less for his sister, thinking, maybe, he could get some information from him.

“Okay, Rhea,” his eyes dropping, he took her hands into his. “When you hear from your daughter tell her I said that I love her and that we’ll work it out, only for her to please call me!”

Sensing a warm chill from the touch of his hands. “You think I like this, Mitchell? Yes, sure I’ll tell her!”

****

“Mother… Hi, we’re here.”

“You there, Marsha? Have the boys left?”

“Yeah... It took about thirty minutes for Roger and Myron to unload the moving truck at Myron’s place and re-load what I want here and we got to Lakeside about 4:15, and it took the three of us about twenty minutes to unload and put the stuff away. Roger and Myron left about ten minutes ago.”

“How was the trip with the baby?”

“With all of us on the seat of Myron’s truck? Cramped! It’s a good thing Mikey was sleepy; he slept most of the way here. And Roger grumbled all the way here and Myron—he’s ‘such’ a nice guy—said, so long as he’s got to schlep stuff all day for strangers, he might as well schlep for friends.”

“They reach the utilities? When I called the clean up people, I told them there’d be an extra ten in it for them if they got the place cleaned before you got there. Did they? How’s it look?”

“Yes, they did.” Holding Michael in her arms, Marsha shifted his weight to her other side. “They were leaving when we pulled up, and considering no one’s been in the place… for what… two years? It doesn’t look all that bad. It’s badly overgrown outside, though, and come July Mikey and me’ll have enough raspberries for all the sour cream in the world.

“Utilities?” Rhea asked.

‘Water’s on now and ‘electricity’ won’t be on before six— so the man said. And the gas company said their man couldn’t be here till tomorrow morning.”

“ ‘Tomorrow’! It’s only April and without lighting the heater or stove at night it can still get pretty damn cold. You tell them you’ve got an infant there with you?”

“Yes! Of course I did, Mother! If we have to, we’ll be okay for one night. If it gets too cold, Mikey’n’me’ll get into bed and snuggle up together.” Holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder, lifting the baby to her face, she rubbed her nose against his. “Won’t we, my baby? Yeah!”

Giggling, Michael parroted, “Yeah!”

“Your furniture—were you able to get what you wanted all in?”

“Yes. Everything we took fits just fine and Myron said he’ll keep the rest of the stuff at his storage place till I’m ready for it.”

The line silent for the few seconds it took Marsha put Michael in the buggy.

“Uh, have you heard from Mitchell?”

“Yes. He came here, and left about a half hour before you called.” Hesitating, Rhea added, “He asked me to tell you that he loves you and doesn’t understand why you did what you did… He looked real bad, Marsha. You sure about what you’re doing?”

Thinking, ‘What I’m doing’?

“What I’ve ‘done’, Mother!” she said. “You didn’t tell him where we are?”

“You told me not to! ‘No’, of course I didn’t! I don’t understand why he’s not supposed to know, but I didn’t tell him anything!”

“Mother, I told you why! I don’t know what I want to do! I just feel like… I don’t know! I feel like I’ve got to have some time to myself! Like I’ve got to be alone to figure things out!”

Feeling slightly different than she’d felt at 8:30 that morning. Struggling not to admit to herself, but knowing this entire move was—along with her unreasonable anger at Mitchell for becoming intoxicated for the second time in the two-and-a half years of their marriage, was—irrational.

Wanting to change the subject. “’Security Movers’, how much did they charge to get… my stuff over to Myron’s store?”

“Haven’t heard yet. The boss there is a friend of Morrie’s and I’m sure Morrie throws him enough city business to ask a favour, so maybe nothing.”

Yeah, Marsha thought, chalk up another one for good ol’ Morrie!

“Where are you calling from?”

“ ‘Red Dot’. I was surprised to find her open so early in the season, but Dottie said since Red died she’s always anxious to get out of Chicago, so she decided to open early this year… By the way...” looking at her, smiling at the elderly, heavy-set woman behind the candy counter, “...Dot says hello.”

“Tell Dorothy hello back, and that she should charge whatever you need and I’ll take care of it.”

“We should be okay for a few days, Mother. This whole thing happened so fast that the groceries and even the refrigerator stuff got here okay, and if the electric man gets here soon enough, so I can start the refrigerator, I won’t even have to get milk for a while.”

Dubiously. “Okay. Well… Oh, yes! Daddy says hello and that you should take it easy.”

“Yeah...” Marsha laughed dryly. “...what else is there to do here but take it easy?”

“Don’t complain, sweetie, this whole thing is what you wanted!”

“Believe me, Mother, I’m not complaining! Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the cottage in case the electric guy shows up.”

“Bye, Marsha; talk to you in a couple’a days.”

Dropping the receiver onto the cradle. “Thanks, Dottie.”

Pushing the buggy through the door, alone but for her baby, Marsha Lipensky walked along the cracked asphalt of the ‘Old Road’ to the dirt side road that would take her to the—until she’d arrived about an hour and a half ago—deserted cove of cottages.

  ****

“Brenda, hi! It’s Mitch Lipensky. Is Roger home?”

****

That morning, immediately after speaking to his mother, Roger called his friend, Myron, informing him that a van will be there with his sister’s merger belongings and that they will be taking a small load and Marsha and her baby to Lakeside…

Then a call to his wife to tell her about his sister’s latest break-up, which, according to his mother, ‘was because Mitchell hounds her because he is upset about the way Marsha treats his parents and because... Roger explained facetiously, “...my sister simply ‘must get away!’ My sister simply ‘must be by herself!’ My sister ‘has to figure things out!’ And if Mitch calls, for some ‘unknown’ god-damned reason, my mother says we’re not supposed to know where she is! No one’s supposed to know where she is or to say anything to her husband. Okay?”

Within minutes of her husband’s call, Brenda received a call from her mother-in-law, whom Brenda ‘never’ forgot was her husband’s employer— who also, in ‘very’ unmistakable terms, advised her not to say anything to Mitchell regarding Marsha’s whereabouts, or Roger’s trip to Lakeside.

Brenda Goldman was a straightforward young woman who — as her husband thought Marsha and Mitchell should be left alone to solve their own marital problems. She had been upset with Rhea when she’d given Marsha easy haven during their last separation. And now to be giving a hiding place and not to let her husband know!

To keep Marsha and his son’s whereabouts a secret from Mitchell!

This Brenda Goldman was ‘very’ much against!

****

“Brenda, hi! It’s Mitch Lipensky. Is Roger home?”

“Oh, hi, Mitch.” Knowing why he’d called. “No...” having no idea what to say, “...Roger isn’t home from, uh, work yet.”

“Brenda, it’s ‘really’ important that I talk to him. Would you ‘please’ ask Roger to call me as soon as he gets home.”

Standing in the empty kitchen, talking to his sister-in-law, Mitchell was surprised when Brenda replied with, “Sure, Mitch. Where can he reach you?”

“Brenda, I’m right here, at my home! Where else would I be?”

Knowing his sister-in-law knew something, Mitchell considered grilling her to see if in fact she did know where Marsha and Michael were. But he liked Brenda and did not want to put her on the spot, so decided not to.

Which was a mistake because if he had, throwing caution and Rhea’s veiled threats to the wind, Brenda would have told Mitchell exactly where his wife and son were. But because he stopped short and didn’t ask…

“You’re home…” Becoming flustered. “...of course you are! Okay, Mitch, I’ll have Roge call you as soon as he gets home… Bye!” she said, quickly breaking the connection.

Feeling—Knowing there was a conspiracy of silence. “Yeah...” he said to the silent phone. “...so long, Brenda.”

Aware that he would ‘eventually’ have to call his parents, at that time he did not want to because he did ‘not’ want to hear their advice and recriminations for ‘not settling things properly with Marsha the last time’.

Actually at that precise time he did not want to speak to anyone but his brother-in-law.

As he sat on the kitchen floor waiting for the phone to ring, his mind ranged…

Today’s the 23rd and that gives me a week till rent’s due again. So if she should decide to come back… Remembering last time, a lower plane of his brain told Mitchell, fat chance. But if she should, he further thought, we’ll still have someplace to live.

So he logically thought.

 ****

In deep thought. Not hearing the knocking. Not fully shut, “Mitchell,” the door was pushed open.

“Oh...” standing, going into the living room, “...hi, Paul.”

“Mitch...” Paul Keglevic looked disapprovingly at the scratches and scuff marks on his refinished, hardwood floor—most of which were caused by the two moving men that morning—also at the 68 redi-wet, foil pac prophylactics that Mitchell hadn’t bothered to pick up.

Appearing ill at ease, “...I’m sorry for your trouble...” Paul said, “...and God knows I ‘don’t’ want to add to it, but…” Coming right to his point. “Your lease is up in two months and, to tell the truth, Mitch, Sophie and I talked about it and we… We weren’t going to renew your lease anyway, so…”

“Huh! You ‘weren’t’ going to renew our lease! Why not, Paul?”

“ ‘Why not’?’” The pitch of Paul’s voice rising. “Because you didn’t do what you said you’d do, Mitch! You said you’d get a carpet for in here...” pointing, “...and you didn’t! Just ‘look’ at this floor! We’ll have to redo the whole damn thing! And the arguments and screaming!” Lowering his voice. “Anyway, if you get the rest of your stuff…” glancing at the prophylactic strewn floor, “...and give up the apartment tomorrow, you’ll get your security and…” looking at the floor again, “...your clean-up deposit back. But we want you out of here ‘tomorrow’!”

Knowing his wife. Not really thinking Marsha would come back,. “Okay, Paul...” he sighed, “...if that’s what you want, I’ll be out of here tomorrow.” Glancing about. “Maybe even tonight.”

“I’m sorry things worked out the way they did, Mitch, and Sophie and me hope Marsha and you’ll be able to work it out.” Holding his hand forward. “Just let us know when you’re leaving for good and we’ll give you your money back.”

Taking the offered hand. “Yeah, Paul, thanks. I’m waiting for one call, then I’ll get the rest of my stuff out of here.”

“Okay, Mitch. Just stop by on your way out.”

 Next FBOW excerpt in sequence: “Other People Know”