BOW Life Goes on #6

Chicago, Illinois

February 28, 1974

8:45 a.m. Central Standard Time

Anticipating the pressurizing of the cabin – that always caused his ears to slightly plug—and the surge of power he always sensed the engines came to life.

Remembering…

Taking hold of her husband’s hand—both

in fear and affection. Whispering directly

into his ear, “...I love you, Mitchie!”

Remembering...

“Marcie...” kissing her cheek “...I’ve always loved you.”

The hissing sound as the cabin began to

pressurize…

Swallowing to clear his ears as the cabin began to pressurize…

The surge of power as the four port and starboard jet engines flamed to life…

After two or three minutes of hesitation, the Boeing 707 airliner began to roll.

Her hand atop the hand that held hers, Marsha Lipensky’s held on so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The plane taxied slowly. It turned to the left then to the right and stopped.

The roaring of the four engines barely heard within the cabin…

Still stationary, shuddering, straining to be on its way…

A sudden jerk as the plane began to move forward….

Slowly… Faster… Faster… Faster… faster, faster. Faster until the patched cracks in the runway and the weedy grass alongside the concrete strip became a blur… Inches. The wheels were inches off the ground… A foot… A yard… Two, three, five, ten yards off the ground…

Straining against the seat belt, sitting bolt upright, the sweat of fear prickling Marsha’s scalp, her eyes locked shut, her hand clenching even tighter…

The plane rose in steeply angled flight over the terminal and hangers and planes and commercial structures that dotted O’Hara Airport, then over houses and yards…

Higher… Higher… Higher…

Banking westerly, the early-morning sun, shifted from starboard, to port.

His scalp pretty well prickled also, taking a deep breath, Mitchell stared out the window watching as the City of Chicago grew smaller, then disappeared altogether. Laying his head against the headrest, forcing him-self to relax he realized the pressure caused by the hold of his wife’s hand becoming painful.

“Honey...” lifting their hands “...you can relax now.”

“Why, have we landed yet?”

Smiling, “No, of course not.”

“Then I ain’t opening my eyes!”

Opening her eyes, Marsha released her husband’s hand.

Reclaiming his hand. “ Thank’s, baby.” Flexing it a few times to get the blood flowing.

…ding-ding-ding. The ‘No Smoking’. ‘Fasten Seat Belt’ sign had gone off.

Having no intention of unfastening her seat belt. “Know what I’d like, Mitchie?”

Leaving his seat belt fastened also. “What?”

“A drink.”

Surprised, “Really! You’d ‘really’ like a drink?”

Wanting to make small talk to take her mind from where they were – about forty thousand feet up – “Yeah.” And besides, at that moment, a drink sounded pretty good.

“Marcie, it’s only,” glancing at his watch, “nine-oh-nine.”

“Too early, huh?”

“You think? Yeah! And besides, I doubt they’d mix a ‘Harvey Wall-banger’.”

“You don’t think they got vodka?”

Snuggling closer, at least as close as the arm-rest and seat belt would allow. “Yeah, I’m sure they have vodka.”

“No orange juice, maybe?”

Happy that Marsha seemed to have acclimated to flying this quickly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they have orange juice; doubt they have ‘Galliano’, though.”

“Okay, no booze then...” adding, “...this early.”

Settling back in her seat, taking hold of her husband’s hand again. “You know, I’m really glad we choose Alice.”

“Yeah…” loosely tightening his fingers about her palm “...me, too.”

“You think we’ll get as much as she says for the house?”

Real estate people always say we can get more than we can really get.” Relaxing a bit also. “One hundred, ten thousand? Don’t know, but that would be great!”

The down payment of seventy-five hundred dollars came from the sale of their first home, the townhouse in Des Plains, Illinois.

When they’d purchased the two story, twenty-seven hundred square foot house in Schaumburg, Illinois – for near seventy-five thousand dollars – it was somewhat undervalued because Schaumburg – about fifteen miles west of Skokie was considered to be in the ‘far boonies’.

However, in the five years they’d lived there, civilization had moved westerly to the ‘far boonies’ and theirs, with a lot of ‘handy work’ from Mitchell, was truly a beautiful five bedroom, two and a half bath house on a full quarter acre of land.

A stewardess pushing a stainless steel cart down the aisle offering juice or coffee…

...Approaching, “Coffee, black.” Mitchell said.

“Orange Juice, please.”

Giving a glass of juice to Marsha and, lowering the small fold0ing tray within the back of the seat before him, pouring a cup of coffee and handing Mitchell the cup and saucer, the stewardess moved on.

“Alice likes what we’ve done to the house and really thinks it’ll sell for about a hundred-ten.”

“If it does, that’ll give us about thirty-five/forty grand for…”

“Remember we’ll have closing costs.”

“I know. And Alice said they have something called, uh, escrow in California. So, after all’s said and done, we should have, at least, twenty-nine/thirty thousand for a down payment and some dough to see us through until things get rolling and Edwin says soon as we get settled, he’ll start prepping the dealers.

“And everyone says that homes in California sell for lots less than in the Chicago area.”

“Yeah, and the kids would really like a pool.”

“The kids, yeah...” Marsha said “...and us, too.”

“Our own pool.” Mitchell said wistfully. “Maybe you’n’me; maybe we can do a little skinny-dipping sometimes?”

“Well, we’ve four kids, you know.”

Leaning over, nuzzling her neck. “We’ll wait till they’re all asleep or send them to a movie, or something.”

“If I know you, you’re not going to want to ‘just’ swim!”

“You really think you know me all ‘that’ well, huh?”

“Yeah, when it comes to ‘that’, I really think I know you all ‘that’ well.”

His mind going back to the fourth of July weekend in 1958 when Marsha had her sexual epiphany – and all the get ‘reacquainted’ fun that followed.

Quiet a few seconds, looking out the window… “Baby, you’re right, you do know me that well.” Turning back, whispering directly into her ear, “I dream of fucking you in our own pool.”

“Yeah, me, too. But I’ll say it again: You really think we’ll be able to with four kids around.?”

“We’ll send ‘em to a movie.”

“Michael’s going to be seventeen; we can’t just send him to a movie with his little brother and sisters every time you want to screw… Besides, how do you plan on doing ‘it’ in a swimming pool?”

“We’ll get one of those big floaty things.”

“We’ll tip over and fall in the water.”

“We’ll get a ‘really’ big floaty thing.”

“Mitchie, we get one ‘that’ big, no one’ll be able to swim.”

Enjoying this back and forth ‘kill time’ babble.

“I got it!”

Finishing the orange juice, “Yeah?” Marsha put the glass onto the tray.

“We did it ‘all the way’ in the shower once, remember?”

Never forgetting her scheme to become pregnant during the first few month of marriage.

“You mean standing?”

Taking the last sip of coffee, “Yeah…” putting the cup into the saucer. “...it worked then.”

“Mitchell, we were almost twenty years younger, and also I ‘wanted’ to get knocked up then.”

“Yeah, and it worked.”

Even after near twenty years of marriage, never quite sure her husband always meant what she thought he meant– which was a part of Mitchell’s sense of humor.

“Yeah, Mitchie, it worked just fine ‘then’. But back then you didn’t have this...” patting his stomach, “...little tummy you got now and you were able to get, oh, maybe a little closer then.”

“Yeah, well… Maybe it would be easier if we have a pool with a, what’ch’a’ma’call’it, a Jacuzzi, ‘cause Jacuzzis’ got a kind of a bench that we, uh, I can sit on and you can sit on my lap then…” glancing downward, with Marsha’s eyes following, seeing the recently arisen cylindrical bulge in his pants.“I can sit on the bench thing with you sitting backwards and you can, uh, sit on me and, uh, we can do ‘it’ that way. Couldn’t we?”

Giggling. “Even so, you ‘really’ think we could get away with, uh, me’n’you naked in the Jacuzzi having sex without even ‘one’ of the kids seeing us?”

His mind envisioning how… “Well, we don’t have to get all naked. You put on a bikini…”

“I don’t have a bikini.”

“I’ll buy you a bikini.”

“I’ve four kids and don’t think I’d look all that good in a bikini.”

“No, baby…” truly meaning it “...you’d look ‘great’ in a bikini.

“Any way, I could, kind of, let ‘it’ slip out from the side and you could kind of pull your bikini bottom to the side and I could, you know, just kind of slip in.”

The thought intercourse in ‘any way’ in the pool not entirely repugnant to Marsha, so long as the kids were away from home..

“Okay…” looking past his shoulder through the port and seeing nothing but sky and quickly looking away “… ‘okay’, already, ‘if’ we can find and afford a house with a pool, with a Jacuzzi, and ‘if’ we can get rid of the kids…”

“Or make sure they’re all asleep.”

Thinking a moment. “Nah, I wouldn’t trust Sammy not to sneak a peak...

“But yes, okay! ‘If’ we get a house we can afford with a pool! ‘If’ we get a house with a pool ‘with’ a Jacuzzi, and ‘if’ we can get rid of the kids… or make damn well sure they’re all asleep…

“But let me tell you something, Mitchell! They damn well, sure as hell better be away or asleep because if they catch you’n’me…” whispering directly into his ear, flicking her tongue into his ear “… fucking, I’ll kill you!”

“Well, honey…” his hand moving upward, beyond the seat belt to the approximate area of a breast, “...maybe it’s time they learned where they came from and how they got here.”

Looking at her husband, again not sure if he was kidding or serious.

“You serious?”

“First off, I think Mikey knows. Or if not has every intention of finding out without ‘any’ assistance from his parents.”

“And Sammy?”

“Hell, knowing Sammy, he’s probably been laid already.”

“Mitchell, Sammy’s only twelve!”

Shrugging his shoulders in a ‘who knows gesture’,

“Yeah, okay…” Marsha said “...with Sammy, who knows.”

“Remember that boat trip to Michigan City I made with my dad and Mortie the day after you’n’me met at Askanaz?”

Thinking a moment… “It wasn’t ‘right’ after ‘cause we’d met a couple of times before, but ‘that’ time, yeah, I remember.

“It was about ten o’clock and my dad was ashore someplace with some guys he knew and Mortie and me were having a couple of beers…”

“More than a ‘couple’?”

“You might say, ‘more than a couple’, and he told me he’d been ‘fucked’.”

“Mitchie, at that time Mortie ‘couldn't’ have been much older than Sammy’s age.”

“Yeah! True! And he told me that he’d met this sixteen year old girl that went to Catholic school that thought he was sixteen…”

“Why’d a sixteen year old girl think that?”

‘Cause he told her so.”

“Oh! ‘So’?”

“So Mortie told me she took him home and no one was there and they’d fucked.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m ‘not’ kidding and it ticked me of ‘cause here’s a twelve/thirteen year old kid getting laid and there’s his big brother at nineteen that hadn’t been laid.”

“So, it’s not so bad, Mitchie, you were saving yourself for me, right?”

Thinking, no! However as it turned out, ‘yes’!

12:49 p.m. Pacific Standard Time

Over the loud speaker: “Ladies and gentlemen...” the co-pilot announced. “...we’ll be making our final approach to ‘Lindberg Field’ within the next few minutes so kindly observe the ‘no smoking and fasten your seat belt’ sign. The temperature in San Diego stands at a balmy seventy-four degrees with intermittent cloudiness.

Next BOW Life Goes On # 7