PIT #23: Morgan and Janice
Points In Time
Elysium Fields
Topanga Canyon, California
May 25, 1986
Lakeside, Michigan
June 16, 1958
“Yeah…” knowing her husband “...something sexy.” Thinking a moment. “Hold on a second, Dotty.”
Reaching beneath and behind the loose fitting top she wears to the beach. Unclasping the bra top to her two piece bathing suit and dropping it into the beach bag.
Taking Michael from the stroller, holding him uptight by both hands standing between her long, lean legs, leaning forward the deep valley formed by her hanging breasts ‘clearly’ visible beneath the loose fitting top.
Snapping the picture. “I think this picture will do ‘just fine’!”
Dorthy said.
Topanga Canyon
May 25, 1986
1:33 p.m.
“That picture did ‘just fine’!” Mitchell said remembering his reaction at seeing the three snapshots showing the growth of his son after near three months away, and ‘especially’ the somewhat revealing picture of his wife which he knew she posed as an invitation.
Lying on her stomach. “I knew it would, Mitchie.”
Looking about the field, Marsha’s eyes lingered at the all but vacated blanket where ‘Janice’, the young lady with the ‘mastectomy’ now sat by herself.
Making a decision. Standing. “I’m going to ask her to join us.
Turning, looking towards the lone lady sitting about forty yards away. “Okay with me, Marcie.”
“Morgan, Kenny and Sandy, I’m going to see if that lady that’s had the mastectomy would like to come on over for a glass of wine.”
On the ground, his back leaning against the ice chest, even from this distance noting ‘something’ familiar about the woman. “Sure, do it Marsha.”
A new lady in the group, even if she had only one breast intriguing to Kenneth so, nodding his head affirmatively. “See if she even wants to come over.”
Although completely sympathetic, How much computation can a lady with one tit be? “Yeah…” Sandy said “...ask her.”
Sitting upright reading a book in near the same crossed leg position Marsha had last seen her about an hour earlier, except now she wore a floral patterned pink T-shirt.
Sensing Marsh’s approach, placing the book onto her lap and looking up. “Hi!”
The visit earlier rather rushed as — one of five or six other women, not really knowing what to say to this young woman, Marsha had only muttered her name as she offered her hand.
Now… Oh, my God! She’s ‘beautiful’!
Obviously of Euro/Asian heritage. Fine boned and slender, the thirty-two year old woman had perfectly straight, shimmering black hair that fanned over her neck mid-way down her back. Dark brown, near black almond shaped eyes a small nose and sensual mouth, wearing no makeup, the tone of Janice Kim’s flesh reminiscent of light ivory. Though sitting it was impossible to gauge her height and weight, although Janice did stand at five feet-two inches and weighed one hundred ten pounds at her top weight, but since the surgery hovered between one hundred and one hundred three pounds.
Best described Janice Kim was an unusually beautiful, petite, one breasted woman.
“Hi! I met you before...” Marsha Said “...but there were so many others here, I couldn’t properly introduce myself. I’m Marsha, Marsha Lipensky.”
“Yes. I didn’t expect that kind of reception here… I’m Janice, by the way. ‘Janice Kim’.
“Really nice to meet you and we…”
Warming to Marsha, and becoming a bit lonely to say nothing of being tired of being an object of pity.
“Sit…” patting the blanket “...why don’t you.”
“Thank you. But we…” motioning over her shoulder “...were wondering if you’d like to join us for a glass…” laughing “...well, it’s not a glass, but my friends and me were hoping that you’d like to join us for a cup of wine.”
“A ‘cup’?”
“Easier to handle on a picnic, don’t spill so easy. And it’s really shitty wine, by the way.”
Looking towards Marsha’s blanket. “Oh…” shaking her head negatively “...I don’t know.”
“My friends are really nice people. And to say that they haven’t all the sympathy in the world for…” gesturing towards Janice's chest “...would be a lie. But we’re all so proud of you for having the courage… The ‘hutzpah’… Know what that means?’
“Yeah…” laughing “...my ex-husband’s Jewish and I know what ‘hutzpah’ means and a bunch of other ‘dirty’ words in Yiddish.”
“Anyway we all admire your, uh, hutzpah for...” gesturing about the field “...coming here and, if you want, hope you’d come on over for a cup of shitty wine and then, if you want, hang with us.”
“ A cup of ‘shitty’ wine and ‘hang’ with you, eh? How could any girl…” tapping her chest “...refuse such an invitation! “Yeah…” uncrossing her legs, standing “I’d ‘love’ to!”
Standing now, Marsha realized how petite Janice Kim really was.
In the seconds it took for Janice and Marsha to amble from blanket to blanket…
Janice saw a good looking man stand and walk to meet them.
Janice saw two others, a man and a woman, stand also…
And a darkly tanned good looking man; minimally six feet tall weighing about two-fifty—looking the part of a true ‘Vietnam’ era throwback. The man’s long, near white hair was bound into a shoulder length pony-tail and his facial hair ran from thick, wide sideburns down his cheeks and over his chin ending in a short, but scraggly beard.
Further adding to the ‘sixties’ era impression… Janice noticed the man wore a ti-died T-shirt with the Vietnam, ‘sixties’ era peace sign that came to his hips with nothing below allowing his thick, uncircumcised penis to show from his thatch of blonde pubic hair.
For an unknown reason, the pulse in the throat of Janice Kim began a noticeably rapid palpitation.
Coming closer— the beat of his heart accelerating Morgan saw… ‘Mae’?
Close enough to see the unmistakable Euro/Asian beauty of this slender, petite woman…
‘Mae’? Morgan Joseph thought — remembering the day: ‘April 30, 1975 ‘ and the fall of Saigon, South Vietnam that signaled the end of the Vietnam war…
...That in the utterly unbelievable confusion during the helicopter evacuation of the city of Saigon, the loss of ‘Mae’…
...The loss of his Vietnamese wife that then thirty-five year old CIA operative ‘Morgan Joseph’ was never again able to locate or make contact with.
Approaching… Squinting against the sun’s glare, Morgan’s heart rate falling as he realized that this woman was too young to be his ‘Mae’ and too old to be his daughter.
“Hi!” Approaching, Morgan stood directly before Janice.
“Uh… “surprised by Morgan’s apparent lack of hospitality “...Janice, this is Morgan.”
Backing off a foot, taking Janice’s hand. “Here….” laying a towel onto the flat top of the ice chest “…it’ll be more comfortable here than on the ground.”
“And this is my husband, Mitchell.”
Still a bit taken back by Morgan’s approach, needing a moment to realize that Marsha had introduced her husband.
“And…” gesturing to…” this is ken and Sandy.”
Looking from one to the other. “Ken, Sandy, Mitchell. Happy to know you.”
Looking at Morgan— whom was standing directly alongside intently studding her face.
“ ‘Morgan’,” Janice said in acknowledgment, while thinking he was looking at her lopsided chest, rather than her face.
“You’ve people in Vietnam?”
Taken back by this direct question. “No. Only China.”
“Your mother?”
Not understanding the reasoning for this line of questioning, nor his tone.
“My mother’s American, my father’s Chinese. They were both agricultural attaches in Canton.” Janice said angrily. “ That’s where they met and fell in love and married in ‘fifty-nine’. And because my dad wanted me to be born in America with an American citizenship, my folks moved here thirty-three years ago.” Starting to stand... “Okay’!”
“No, ‘please!’” For the first time noticing the lopsided T-shirt, but making nothing of it —Breathing a long sigh while taking Janice's shoulders and gently urging her back onto the ice chest.
“Sorry for my shitty manners because…” taking a second or two gather his thoughts “...you look like my, uh…” Morgan’s voice catching. “We… My wife and I became separated and lost each other during the evacuation of Saigon.”
This being the very first information of the past life of Morgan that either Ken or Sandy, and, of course, Marsha and Mitchell had heard.
“Morgan, my God…” Sandy said, going to him “...this true ?” You’ve never been able to find what happened to her?”
“No… Being CIA I was dragged onto one of the last choppers not knowing if Mae had gotten aboard one of the others. Then ‘Charlie’ captured Saigon, killing everyone they could get a bayonet into and I’ve never been able to find out if Mae is even alive.”
The four of us silent…
“Hey…” breaking the heavy atmosphere “...where’s that cup of shitty wine you promised me?”
“You, my beautiful lady…” taking Janice by the elbows and bodily lifting her off the ice chest.”...are sitting on it.”
Plastic coffee cups handed out, the four cups filled to the brims and, ‘clunkled’.
“Yaght! You were right. This really is shitty stuff.”
“Don’t worry about it…” I said “...after a while it’ll start to grow on you.”
“Like a fungus.”
“Here…” handing Janice the silver flask “...this’ll get the taste out of your mouth.”
We all waited for Janice to take a swig, and her reaction.
Although petite Janice Kim wasn’t quite the demure lady she appeared to be… “Holly shit!” Handing the flask back to Morgan. “What the fuck is this stuff?”
“Hey…” Marcie said “...I knew you’d fit in!”
“Anyone want a hit?”
“Oh, my God, Morgan! Took me three hours to come down last time.”
“You got some good grass?”
“Janice, considering you might be on ‘meds’…” Marsha said “...Morgan’s grass might not be such a great idea.”
“Right now! ‘Today’ is the best I’ve felt since…” patting the flat side of the T-shirt “they took my left tit and my fucking husband divorced me. So a toke on a joint will be just fine.”
Many of those sitting or lounging nearby watched as the beautiful Euro/Asian lady wearing a floral print T-shirt and the hairy, bear of a man wearing a ratty, sixties era T-shirt — followed by two other, less distinctive couples made their way to the parking lot and Morgans old Cadillac.
“Here…” Janice said “..let me do it.”
Obviously a lady that had rolled a joint or two, Janice rolled a perfect joint.
“How’d you learn to do that so good.”
“Hey Sandy, I’m a ‘Valley Girl’ after all!”
Some dynamic having passed between Janice Kim and Morgan Joseph while passing the ‘joint’ — all but Marsha taking a second ‘hit’, because once returning to the blanket there was absolutely no question that ‘something’… as of ‘yet’ not physical had transpired.
“Your husband divorced you ‘cause you had to have a ‘mastectomy’?” Morgan asked unbelievably.
“Yeah. He said that he couldn’t imagine his life living with a one breasted woman, so he divorced me.”
“That asshole!”
“Yeah, Ken, but I got a non-contested divorce that gave me a beautiful four bedroom house in ‘Tarzana’, a one year old Mercedes convertible and one hell of a revolving bank account… The house and car are mine...The bank account, for the next two and a half years or whenever I marry, which ever comes first, and I’m in no hurry to marry and who’d want a broad with one tit anyway?”
“He’s still an asshole.” Morgan said emotively. “I could spend my entire life just looking at you.”
‘Because I remind you of your wife?”
“Can’t lie about that, Janice, but ‘yes’ because you do resemble Mae. But Janice you’re also ‘you’ and I’ve seen guys get their legs and arms blown off. I’ve seen guys with their faces half blow away… So you think that you’re missing one tit would ever stop me from loving you... Hell!”
The ‘loving you’ picked up by the other two couples and ‘especially’ Janice.
Lifting the hem of Janice’s T-shirt, Morgan first kissed the scared side of her chest, than the small dark brown nipple of the remaining small, but perfectly beautiful breast.
Pulling his ti-died T-shirt with the Vietnam, ‘sixties’ era peace sign over his head and off revealing, for the first time — the entire side of Morgan’s left chest was a mass of long healed red scars that, running from his waist to below his clavicle had, “Napalm’s a bitch!” obliterated his nipple.
“We’re a matched pair, baby.”.
Relaxed now. All in our circle. All either stoned or drunk or both.
Reclining with my backward stitched arms holding my upper body. Marsha with the back of her head laying onto my right thigh… Sandy and Ken In about the same position. Morgan’s back against the Ice chest, Janice's head upon his thigh.
From their actions and reactions with each other, Sandy and ken and Marsha and me aware that from this point forward, odds were we would never again see Morgan without Janice — which was just fine, but what about Evie?
“Morgan…” I asked “...you said you were ‘CIA’ during ‘Veitnam’.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“Can I ask, in what capacity?”
“ ‘They’ came to colleges and universities looking for us.”
This gruff bear of a man appearing to be more a ‘drop out’ than one that would be searched for in colleges or universities.
I’d suppose noting the disbelieving look on my face…
“Guess you wouldn’t believe if I told you I’ve a ‘masters’ in ‘structural engineering’.”
Next Pit #24: Outside Life
