PIT 30:Mitchell’s Truth

Points In Time

Woodland Hills, California

May 27, 1986

1:57 a.m.

Why? Why would I even know? Why would I even ‘think’ about something like that?”

“ You were a grown man and I thought you’d think it strange when you got your cock into me and had no problem doing it. Then the blood…

“ I was twenty and had never fucked before Marsha, and ‘blood’? I never even thought of that.”

“Maybe you should have, and when I told you I broke my hymen horseback riding, I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, but…”

“But inexperienced, stupid ‘me’ did believe you.”

”Yeah. Yes ‘stupid’ you did.”

“All those nights — right from the beginning, when you knew I’d be in bed waiting for you…”

“I stayed in the bathroom, sometimes sitting on the toiled until my ass got numb and wouldn’t come out until I thought you’d be asleep…”

“But usually wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you usually weren’t asleep, then — ‘not always’, because back then ‘sometimes’ I did want to fuck…”

Hesitating, wondering how much of her bottled up hatred and disgust she could throw at him before he did something— Marsha didn’t know what he might do. Hit me? She knew Mitchell was non violent and the only time she could remember him hitting… Slapping her was after ‘she’ punched him in the head, twice.

“… so sometimes I did want to fuck…” adding “...even with you.”

Now that his wife had started saying things he could not even have imagined, having some questions himself…

“The kids! Why insist on four kids before you were thirty without even thinking is we could afford a family that size?”

I hated my childhood. I hated my mother and brother and decided that I wanted to have a large family…” quiet now, choking up a bit “... that I could, kind of, grow old with— Besides, I did tell you that back then ‘sometimes’ I liked to fuck…”

“Yeah, you said, ‘even with me’.”

“Yeah. Back then when we decided we wanted another kid…”

“Back then when ‘you’ decided ‘you’ wanted another kid.”

“ Yeah, okay. When ‘I’ decided ‘I’ wanted another kid, and each time I ‘never’ thought you’d ‘knock me up’ so fast.”

“I loved fucking without a rubber, and me ‘knocking you up’ that fast; that doesn’t count for my being man enough for you?”

“Yeah, actually it did— then when we had, as you used to say, ‘two pair beats three of a kind’ I almost did love you.”

“What stopped you?”

Without a moment’s hesitation. “Your mother. No matter what, your mother ‘always’ stopped me.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew you’d get around to my mother.”

“I ‘hated’ her!”

“Marsha, I always wondered ‘why’? If you loved me enough, ‘why’ if only for ‘me’, you’d ‘give in’ once in a while.”

Sighing. “I know I could have, Mitchell— ‘if’ I loved you enough. But then you’d start bugging me for not coming with you when you…”

“We’re a ‘family’,Marsha; you and me and the kids and I loved you ‘always’ missed you when you made me go without you.”

“...when you brought the kids to see their grandparents and you’d tell me that your mother ‘loves’…” said sarcastically “..me and wants us to be a family again and cries at each holiday when she makes a big dinner and ‘everyone’ is there but...”

“My wife!”

“Yeah. And you’d start on me and I’d I’d get even stubborner and even angrier and we would argue and it was on one of those times that I discovered that if I stayed mad at you for as long as I like, I won’t have to pretend to like you or even talk to you...

“You actually engineered all those ‘mad’ times… and still do?”

“Yeah. Most of them. And then I wouldn’t have to worry about you wanting to fuck me, so I won’t have to come up with an excise, like...”

“A headache!”

“Yeah.”

In my opinion her only true defence when and ‘if’ Marsha ‘really’ had a headache or cramps or whatever excuse she could come up with.

Defensively stated. “But I ‘always’ took good care of my family.”

“Very true , Marsha. You were a ‘great’ mother, shame you weren't a better wife.”

“ ‘Listen’— even if I was mad at you and we weren't talking, you would ‘always’ have a dinner waiting for you.”

“That’s true , Marsha. But since the kids have been gone, it’s always kind of depressing finding a meal with the table set for only me.”

Don’t know why, but she insisted on digging that verbal knife even deeper.

“I loved those times— Going for days and even week without having to talk to you.”

“Yeah. And this last time was when I discovered Elysium.”

“The only good thing you’ve done in years.”

“I didn’t know how you would react to Elysium. Actually I thought you’d hate it there.”

“Nah…” Digging even deeper “...I love looking at ‘other’ men’s dicks.”

Feeling a sense of falling into an endless dark well.

“Let me ask you…”

Anticipating the question, I suppose.

“ ‘No’!” Emphatically stated. “Unlike you, I ‘never’ fucked anyone but you since we got married.”

Referring to an affair I had that ended twenty-five years ago.

Feeling a bit of revenge had to be forthcoming.

The only reason, Marsha, the ‘only’ reason that Elizabeth and I got together… The reason was you. ‘Always’ angry at me… More often than not, not even knowing the reason you were angry at me and now I find that ‘probably’ there was no reason at all...

“You remember when I called to ask… Actually to beg you if it was okay for me to come home?”

“Yes, and the only reason I said yes was because…

Chicago, Illinois

Friday, November 22, 1963

Elizabeth having three appointments on this cold, damply overcast, gloomy Friday, and as Mitchell had none and was extremely nervous over his appointment with the lawyer, each had taken their own transportation downtown.

Running a few minutes late, at 12:06, “Mister Leonard can see you now.”

Elizabeth waited in the reception room as…

Address, phone numbers, names, ages and preliminary information written onto the yellow pad:

“When did Mrs Lipensky cause you to leave your home?”

“The first time?”

“Yes, the first time.”

“Uh,” thinking, “1957, sometime in May, I came home from work and all my stuff was packed in cardboard boxes in the middle of the room with a note telling me to ‘get out’!’

“To your knowledge, Mister Lipensky, there was no reason for this?”

The manner in which the question was put causing him to think for a moment. “We just had the baby, uh, Michael, and we’d been arguing about money and things were rough, but no, sir! No real reason. Nothing that we couldn’t work out.”

“Did you strike her?” Writing on the yellow legal pad. “Have you ever struck your wife?”

“On the night before this…”

“The night before?” The attorney questioned. “In May of ’57, the night before your wife told you to leave your domicile?”

“Domicile?”

“Your home.”

“On the night before, Marsha, uh, my wife left me the note telling me to get out?”

“Yes.”

On the night before, when the baby woke for his feeding, I told her I’d do it, uh, take care of Michael and she became hysterical and she, uh, hit me, twice, and I slapped her back.”

“You say,” writing on the pad, “your wife struck you first?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Was her hand closed? When your wife struck you was it with a fist?”

“Yes, sir, twice.”

“And you slapped her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your hand was open?”

“Yes, sir. She punched me and I slapped her back.”

“Afterwards? After you slapped your wife?”

“She calmed down and I thought it best to just leave her alone and went back to bed.”

“You had no further words that night?”

“No, sir.”

“There was no further physical contact that night?”

“No, sir.”

“The next day?”

“I had a part time job and left the apartment very early, before she woke up because I wanted Marsha… I hoped that by the time I got home that afternoon she’d have calmed down.”

“And…”

“When I got home she wasn’t there and all my stuff was packed in cardboard cartons and there was a note… A terrible note telling me to ‘get out’.”

“Did you try speaking to her?”

“Yes. Her mother lives in the same building and I went there but she, Marsha’s mother, wouldn’t let me in to talk to my wife.”

“How far did this separation go?”

“In ’57?”

“Yes.”

“We were in court for a, uh, preliminary legal separation.”

“And you reconciled at that time.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Remembering with a bit of a jolt, Marsha in the arms of another man. “The judge, he talked to Marsha’n’me in private and we changed our minds and left together.”

“And there was a second separation? When?”

“Yes, sir. When I came home from work in, uh, late in April in 1958…”

Holding his hand up, consulting the yellow pad. “This was less than a year later?”

“Yes, sir. When I got home all of our furniture and everything had been moved out of the apartment and she, uh, Marsha had disappeared with my son and no one that knew us would tell me where they’d gone.”

“Did anything happen the night before to cause this? Did you have words with your wife the night before?”

“Marsha went to a movie with her cousin and a friend and… We were having some problems again and I had a little too much to drink.”

“You were drinking that night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you drink much, Mister Lipensky?”

“No, sir. Not at all! Well, socially now and then.”

“You were drunk when she returned home?”

“Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, I was in the bathroom puking when she got home.”

“Did you and your wife have words then?”

No, not really. She refused to sleep in the same bed with me so she slept, uh, someplace else.”

“The next morning, did you have words then?”

“No, sir… I wasn’t feeling very well then and thought it best if I just left.”

“Later that day, when you returned home, everything was moved out of your home. Your things? Did she leave ‘your’ property?”

“Only my clothes and some…”

His eyes shifting from the pad, the attorney looked at Mitchell, “Some what?”

Remembering that sad day, a lump of bitterness coming to his throat, “Whatever was mine in the dresser she dumped on the floor and what was hanging of mine she left hanging. And I had a… Before I left the service, uh, the Coast Guard, I bought a large box of rubbers, uh, prophylactics and she dumped them all over the floor.”

“And the reason for this? For her ‘abandoning’ you….”

‘For her abandoning you’. Seeing the possibility of a defence of sorts, remembering Marsha’s desertion grounds that first time, thinking, Marsha deserted me!

“…You have any idea why she did that?”

“No, sir! I don’t know of any reason for her to do this.”

“And when you came home from work the next day,” writing, “the furniture, your wife, your son, ‘everything’ was gone.”

“Yes, sir. I’d even bought some flowers… You know, to try to make up. But when I got home I found my clothes, and all my other stuff and the rubbers thrown all over the floor.”

“How long until you saw your wife and,” looking at the pad, “ ‘Michael’ again?”

His stomach quaking, “Two and a half months.”

“And all this time you had no idea where they, your wife and son were.”

“I thought they might have been in the country.”

“The country?”

“In Michigan.” Feeling ill. “ ‘Lakeside’.”

“I know it…” nodding his head “...and were they?”

His mind in turmoil. Away from his children for five days now. Missing his children, I love Liz, he thought, but the thought of divorce… The actual thought of divorce and the thought that he would not be living with his children. And yes! but I love Liz! But the thought of Marsha in the arms of another man!

Here, now, actually speaking to a lawyer! ‘Actually’ about to proceed with a divorce! Actually about to be away from his children! But I love Liz! What do I care about Marsha? She hates me!

“Mister Lipensky?”

Attempting to focus his attention. “Yes, sir.”

“I asked if your wife and Michael were in Lakeside.”

“As it turned out, yes, sir. But I had no idea how to find them and no one would tell me for sure.”

“That doesn’t matter. Your wife abducted your son…”

‘Abducted your son’! Kidnapped your son!

“…and took him across a state line… Out of Illinois, through a bit of Indiana and into Michigan. Across three state lines, as a matter of fact.”

In a bit of a daze, “Did you say that Marsha kidnapped Michael?”

Noticing the questioning tone of Mitchell’s voice, “Mister Lipensky, we’re trying to set a pattern of your wife’s behaviour towards you. So, yes! She can’t do that: take your child without your permission and just disappear. That’s kidnapping! And then she removed your possessions from your domicile without your permission; that’s theft.”

A blank expression on his face, What do I care about Marsha? She hates me! Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. I love Elizabeth—but my kids!

The intercom on his desk buzzing. As though asking for one minute, holding a finger forward, “Yes, Ida?” Looking at Mitchell, “This’ll take a couple of minutes, but I’ve got to take this call.”

“That’s okay…” Mitchell said, thinking, What do I do? I love Elizabeth! But my kids! “...I’ve got to use the bathroom anyway.”

What do I do? Marsha in the arms of another man!

Nodding his head, Leonard motioned for Mitchell to go ahead.

His mind in a state of turmoil, coming from the attorney’s office, hesitating a moment, looking at Elizabeth. “I need the toilet,” he said, thinking, What do I do? Rushing from the room. I love her! But my kids!

Going into the hallway, catching a down heading elevator as the door was about to glide shut. “Lobby,” he said impatiently to the elevator operator.

Woodland Hills, California

May 27, 1986

2:10 a.m.

“I never told you, but I called from Elizabeth’s lawyer’s office because I was there to get a divorce started…”

Jolted, Never knew that! Marsha thought.

“...and the ‘only’ reason I changed my mind was because Mister Leonard, the lawyer was going to put, as our response, the reasons for our divorce was that you’d hit me…”

“Hit you?”

“..Yeah. Twice. With your fist, the first time you ‘abandoned’ me. Then took all ‘our’ furniture without my permission and kidnapped my son.”

“Never knew that.” She said quietly.

“Course not, because by the time I got home the world knew that President

Kennedy had just been assassinated and you and me had other things to think about then ourselves.”

“It I had said ‘no’ then, wold you have gone through with it, a divorce?”

“You know, Marsha, you’re not the only one of us that can hate because I want you to know that I ‘really’ loved Liz and was ready to spend the rest of my life with her and ‘really’ hated you, and the ‘only’ reason I wanted to come home at all was because of the kids and would have been only ‘too’ happy to go to court with my arguments for divorce being ‘physical cruelty’, on your part. ‘Abandonment’, by you. ‘Theft’ by you and, of course, ‘kidnapping’ my infant son and taking him across three state lines, which is a federal offence that you could have been locked up for.”

Not exactly true , but what the hell?

“And ‘your’ defence: “ ‘Oh, your honer’…” said as sarcastically as possible “… ‘my husband got drunk , once’.’”

“Oh, yeah…” one more return stab “...I didn’t want to mention this but Mister Leonard said that we might eve have had legal grounds to take Michael from you as you seemed to be ‘so’ erratic.”

This a complete lie.

This causing a tremor in Marsha’s stomach.“You’re such a fucking coward, I don’t think you’d have the guts to do that!”“

‘Maybe’! And what would you have done about it? Get your uncle ‘Willy’ or one of his thugs to beat me up.”

Aware her years of thoughtless mistreatment could possibly add up in his favour — if ever they might divorce, Marsha shrugged her shoulders.

“A couple other things that have been on ‘my’ chest.”

“Cough ‘em up!”

“Going way back again...Those two time — between our first and second marriage. When I flew into Chicago… When the plane landed you were the first person I wanted to see, but..”

“I was in a toilet puking.”

“Yeah, both times because you were ‘so’ anxious to see me?”

“No! Both times because I ‘was’ going to see you.”

“Then you got your ‘period’ two days before the real wedding…”

“Don’t you get it!” Angrily poking her finger onto my chest. “I ‘didn’t’ want to marry you!”

Slapping her hand away. Ignoring her purposely hurtful words.

“...and after we were married and home in ‘Seagate’, the first time I ever really saw you naked, your body was covered with those brown splotches, and since then I’ve never known you to be allergic to anything.”

“I’m not to ‘anything’, but was to you then.”

“I really loved you! ‘Really’ loved you and don’t understand, Marsha, why’d you ‘ever’ marry me?”

Next PIT #31: Why Indeed