PIT #39: All The Cogs

Woodland Hills, California

Tuesday June 10, 1986

5:15 p.m.

A look passing from Mister Brenner to Mrs. Brenner, who gave a near imperceptible nod of her head. “Standing, offering his hand. “You’ve a deal,” Mister Brenner said.

Forty minutes later, after the Brenner’ had left with signed copies of their papers.

Forty minutes later, knowing we’ve taken our first step.

Forty minutes later — under different conditions and circumstances, knowing we would be heading to the bedroom for a congratulatory fuck.

“You want to call Janice and ask for her lawyer’s name and number?”

“No…” I said “… Janice’s lawyer will be a real high end guy.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want Morgan knowing I’ll be leaving anyway.”

“I think I’d just as soon like it if we didn’t tell anyone for a while.”

“Me, too.”

“Guess I’ll look for a lawyer in the ‘Yellow Pages’ then.”

Encino, California

Wednesday, June 11, 1986

1:05 p.m.

Biting into the juicy, medium rare hamburger, then wiping a bit of ketchup

from the corner of his mouth with the white cloth napkin.

Toying with a french fry, “What did Glen have to say?”

“First off, that he was sorry to hear that we’re breaking up. And that the sales contract was written perfectly and that it was okay to get it over to escrow.”

Killing time until their scheduled ‘one-forty-five’ appointment with Steven Melnick— the third located near by ‘Attorney at Law’ that ‘when his fingers did the walking’ in the ‘LA County Yellow Pages’ Mitchell had spoken to — actually spoken to Mister Melnick’s secretory that said she was able to ‘squeeze them in on such short notice’.

“Seems like you’ve really got a ‘thing’ for Morgan…” finishing

the last of his hamburger and wiping his mouth again “”...you going to miss him?”

Her hamburger half eaten, still absently making circles in the puddle of ketchup with a french fry. “Yeah, I suppose, but…”

“There’s a million lose men to fuck around with in Chicago, huh?”

Tense over their meeting with the attorney, now a bit angry at being interrupted. “What I was going to say is…” looking up from her plate “...that, yeah, I do like Morgan…” figuratively digging her knife into his back once again “...he’s the first ‘real’ man I’ve fucked in ‘years! But I’m sure Max’ll know a bunch of guys that I’ll be able to meet.”

“Oh, I’m sure that when the two of you…” digging his knife in also “… ‘middle aged’ broads hit the circuit…”

“The ‘circuit’?” Marsha’s voice rising, “You calling me a whore, Mitchell?”

About to say, ‘if the shoe fits’, but thinking better of it. “No, Marcie…” thinking: things have been peaceful lately, so why fuck it up now “...I’m sorry. I don’t think that at all.”

Allowing a moment to cool down. “You ask about Morgan… “ hesitating, “ ‘Please’, Mitchell don’t say anything to him because he’s such a good guy.”

Recalling Morgan and his wife’s long stay in the ‘black room’

after he and the others had left. “I won’t! I like him too.”

Drawing a long sip of ice water through the straw… “When we were in the pool… Oh, I know he was drunk and stoned,…”

“As we all were.”

“Yeah, we all were. But when Morgan came to me and hugged me and put his head to mine and cried; as drunk and as stoned as I was, I could hear this ‘big’ man sobbing in my ear, and felt his tears, and snot on the side of face, and I…” taking another sip of water “...What could I do but hug him and tell him... like talking to a baby, what could I do but tell him to ‘shhh’! What could I do but rub his back and tell him, ‘Shhh?”

Seeing a rarely seen— other than anger, seeing a rarely seen sympathetic appearing emotion on the face of his wife.

“Then, in the ‘black room’, after we fucked…. He told me what he could tell me — that even after all these years is still classified. He told me something about what happened the day he was ordered out of Cambodia, and some of what he could say…”

“Morgan really saw some terrible shit during the war.”

“My. God…” Marsha said “...I can’t even imagine the pain as that napalm burned through his cloths.”

“We wondered why he never took that ratty T-shirt off until Janice came.”

“I like Morgan! Really like him, but he’s looking for a mother figure… possibly to replace his Mae who’d be our age now, and I can’t! I was a mother to four kids, and a ‘lot’ of times to you, too, and I do not want to be ‘anyone’s’ mother ever again!”

“You going to tell him that you’ll be moving back to the Chicago area then?”

“Of course I will. just don’t know when.”

“Finished eating, Marsha?”

“Yeah. Not too hungry today I guess.”

Glancing at his watch: ‘1:35’.

Having lunch in the cafeteria on the ground floor of the twelve story building that ‘Attorney at Law’, Steven Melnick’s office was located.

Glancing at his watch, “Might as well head upstairs.”

Standing, “Yeah…” pushing from the table “..might as well.”

Stopping to pay the check, then through the open entryway to the buildings lobby and the bank of three elevators. Inside, pushing the # ‘5’ button. The door silently gliding shut, then four seconds later, silently gliding open. Noting a placard on the wall pointing directions. Turing to the right, Marsha ad Mitchell Lipensky walked the maroon carpeted hallway to room ‘516’. Opening the door, walking in….

“Good afternoon…” Marsha said to the young woman at the desk “...we’re Mister and Mrs Lipensky here to see Mister Melnick.”

“Oh, yes…” the young woman said, “Mister Melnick is expecting you.”

Led into the office. Introductions made by mister Melnicks secretary .

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

Looking up from the the pad before him. “You're here to begin divorce proceedings?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mister and Mrs Lipensky, as you are here together, I assume this is to be a ‘noon-contested’ action.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve just opened escrow on the sale of our home and want to give instructions for the distribution of funds once title transfers and escrow closes… Marsha, give Mister Melnick your new information.”

“I won’t be here when escrow closes and would like my check sent to this address…” Handing the attorney the information received by her cousin the night before. “Oh, yes…” Marsha added “...once I leave, if there are any documents for me to sign, please send them to this address also.”

“Mrs Lipensky, escrow will handle the… I assume equal distribution of funds, so make sure they have this information also.”

“Yes…” Mitchell said “...after ‘all’ expenses…”

“Whatever the movers charge and…” Marsha added “... incidental expenses.”

“Like…” looking at Mister Melnick “...attorneys fees.”

“Once you’ve compiled as much of your ‘incidental expenses’ as possible, I’d suggest that you get those figures to escrow… “When do you plan on leaving, Mrs Lipensky?”

“I want to do some packing of personal stuff…” thinking of the last time she’d be with Morgan and Janice’s pool party on Saturday “...Probably in two weeks or so.”

“Household items; appliances and such. I’ll make a list of who’s to receive what.”

“Max tole me that both units share a common laundry room in the basement, so you keep the washer and dryer, Mitch.”

“You want our bedroom stuff?”

“No, you keep the bed, but I’ll take my two dressers and the end tables, and… Don’t know what size bed I’ll be buying, so you might as well keep all the bedding. But…” remembering “… I’ll take my bubbies quilt.”

“Once you’re gone, I’ll probably sleep I one of the boys rooms.”

“Anything I leave that you don’t want, call ‘Salvation Army’ to pick up.”

“The refrigerator?”

“No, Max says there’s one there already.”

“Dishes? Silverware?”

“I’ll take the silver.”

“Guess I’ll take the stainless.”

All stated very matter of factually, without the slightest rancor, as Mister Melnick made notations of who gets what.

“Dishes?”

Marsha laughed. “You get to keep the ‘Melmac’!”

“ ‘Melmac’?”

“ ‘Dishes; Mister Melnick. If in two million years some archaeologist digs up a twentieth century kitchen, they’re sure to find a set of ‘Melmac’ Dishes.”

“His grandparents…” gesturing to Mitchell “...gave us a set as a wedding gift.”

“Yeah, they were red and green because…”

“We figured they were red and green because we were married a week before Christmas…”

Laughing. “And we figured the dishes would have been black and orange if we’d been married around Halloween.”

“Anyway…” Marsha said “...you keep the Melmac and I’ll tale the china.”

“Figures.” Mitchell said.

Mutually thinking, ‘we did have ‘some’ good times’!

Linens, front and family room chairs, tables, the sofa, televisions; co- owned household items ticked off as Melnick kept tally until...

“That’s it?”

“Other than our own personal stuff.”

“One more question, Mrs Lipensky.”

“What’s that?”

“Future earning?… Any question about your share of your husband’s future earnings?”

Looking at Mitchell. “Hell, I’ll probably be making more than him! So no!”

“Your children?”

“All adults, doing fine. So no, nothing there either.” Marsha said.

“We just want a clean brake from each other.” Mitchell added.

“Okay, then. I’ve got all I need to get started and I’ll contact Escrow to get copies of your sales contract.”

“How long until it’s final, Mister Melnick.”

“ I’d say forty-five to sixty days, Mrs Lipensky.”

“Thank you, sir.”

A hot, muggy day…

Crawling along with the slow moving late afternoon west bound traffic on the ‘Ventura Freeway’.

“Well…” said rather sadly “...guess we’re ‘really’ going through with it this time.”

“Yeah…” Marsha replied rather harshly “...and it’s about time.”

Stopping behind a large ‘semi’ as traffic came to a temporary halt.

“Any idea where you’ll be living?”

Glancing at Marsha, “No!…” lying “... I’ve no idea.”

“Sandy’ll be happy to have you, I guess.”

“I’ve no intention to move in with Sandy,”

“Lita’s still married, so that won’t work.”

“I’m not moving in with anyone, Marsha!”

“Well, you’re a big boy, so I guess you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, I will!”

“Good thing we saved those broken down cardboard boxes.”

“Yeah. Kind of knew we’d need them again someday.”

Traffic moving again. Switching lanes, the Ford station wagon picked up speed...

Stored in the garage. “You’ll get them off the high shelf.”

“Yeah, sure…

“In the meantime, seeing as you know where you’re going, Marsha, why don’t you call around for a mover.”

“Yeah, good idea. What about for you?”

“I’m local, so whenever I figure out where I’m going, I just might rent a ‘U-Haul’.”

One phone call away from knowing exactly where he was going.

Next PIT #40: Homecoming