PIT3/9: The Lake
Points In Time
Westlake Village, California
March 18, 2010
1:51 PM
“You kept Melmac service for four people! Why?”
“In case I ever have company.”
“Yeah. Okay. But you still only have two snack tables.”
“But I never have company for meals.”
“In case you did?”
“Did what?”
“Have company.”
“I’d go in the garage and get two more.”
Remembering this. Loving their comedic ‘back and forth.
1:55 PM
Into the living room.
“You kept all this stuff!”
“Knew I wouldn’t be using this room much. Hell, I never used it at all, so didn’t see any reason to buy new furniture. Besides, maybe I would meet a new lady that wanted to live with me, and wanted to bring her own stuff in…”
“That would be okay with you?”
His arm about her waist, pulling her closer. “Marcie, we both know you’re ‘that lady’; at least so far as I’m concerned, so whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“ ‘At least as far as you’re concerned’, huh? Baby, you’re stuck with me forever….On condition we get rid of that old Kenmore!”
“It’s been part of my life for ‘so’ long…” pretending to pout “...I ‘love’ my old Kenmore!”
Pinching his ass. “Tough shit!… Let’s see the bedrooms.”
Lifting the carry on and pulling the rolling suitcase, that had been left in the foyer; Marsha followed into the guest room, where the carry on and suit case were dropped onto the bed.”
Seeing their old guest room furniture. “I figured.”
“For any company I had that was going to sleep in another room, this old stuff would be just swell. So,
yeah! I kept all this stuff, too.”
“Well, looks like I’ll be shipping most all I’ve got here.”
“Got new stuff… Well, it’s not new now, but bought new bedroom stuff for myself when I moved in here.”
Surprised to see the bed properly made, along with the style and quality of Mitchell’s bedroom furnishings.
Going to the picture window, she opened the blinds revealing– coming from, and used to flat land, to Marsha the sight of Westlake Lake and the distant mountains absolutely breath taking, and wanted nothing more than to lead Mitchell to the bed and lay together facing the lovely outside world.
“This room, Mitch, you did a great job. I ‘love’ it!”
“Glad you do, ‘cause I love it too.”
“You said something about a boat ride.”
“I’m ready any time you’re ready.”
Holding the lapels of the lime green jacket forward. “Let me get into something more comfortable. Give me a minute, will you?”
No need to change from anything he was wearing. “Sure, take your time.”
Wanting her ‘badly’. Wanting to hold her, to kiss her… to look at her. To touch her… To ‘see’ her… To love her.
But there had not even been the hint of a sexual innuendo since they’d met at the airport, and felt any move in that direction would seem clumsy and rehearsed.
He watched as Marsha went into the guest room – An invitation? leaving the door open, she unzipped the suit case, carefully removed stacks of folded clothing laying them on the bed, where she’d removed a pair of designer jeans and a light blue short sleeved blouse.
Glancing over her shoulder to see if he might be watching and sorry to see he wasn’t, Marsha stripped out of the clothing she’d been wearing and standing only in bra and thong – glancing over her shoulder once again and seeing Mitchell still was not watching her, sitting on the bed she wiggled into the slim jeans.
He wanted to… Even in their darkest days, the sight of her slightly sagging tits and small, tight ass always excited him.
He wanted to, ‘really’ wanted to, but did not want it to seem like he wanted to watch her undress – and the way the room was situated at the end of the short hallway, he would have to stand in the doorway in order to see her.
“Think I’ll need a jacket?”
Coming from the room wearing jeans and a chambray coloured blouse, except for the startling white hair – in Mitchell’s eyes, Marsha looked as she had in their early years of marriage: A rather sultry Hebraic appearance that had always reminded him of the picture of a female ‘Sabra’ in the early days of the forming of the State of Israel.
“It’s always a bit cooler on the lake, so this should do.”
Taking a jacket from off the back of the rolling desk chair, handing it to her.
“Thanks.”
Knowing he’d need one, removing a credit card from his wallet that he’d left on the desk.
2:14 PM
Holding her a bit closer than need be, one arm about Marsha’s waist, his other hand holding her left elbow, Mitchell helped Marsha down the uneven railroad tie steps… onto the dock and as she stepped into the slightly rocking party boat.
Noting the counsel containing a clutch of sorts and a stainless steel wheel, rightfully thinking the ‘helm’, to the rear, she sat on the cushioned bench directly to the right – starboard’ of the control counsel.
Knowing the boat would ‘power up’ immediately as he’d checked the water level in all six batteries this morning before leaving for the airport, and as the power line from the electrical fuse box on the dock was ‘always’ plugged into the electrical addapter on the boat from the time of last coming ashore until the next time the boat is used, having no doubt...
Unhitching the two half-hitches from the lines from the boat to the two cleats on the dock...
The extremely buoyant pontoon boat catching in the slightest breeze...
Jumping from the dock, Mitchell came aboard, and as he did…
His imagination or the remembrance of a picture that remained hidden within his mind...
Sitting, at the most seven feet away… Oh, my God!
Pulling the mysterious image from his memory – at least in his eyes, Marsha, his ex-wife...
The shape of her face, of her eyes. Her flawless– even though slightly age-lined, olive complected face…
The foggy picture of ‘the other’ working through his mind.
At Marsha’s age, as the other’s age – at the time of the picture approximately the same age having her white hair and age-lined face.
Beautiful!
Mitchell had noticed ‘something’ .
A thought. A memory. A person. A time – can flash into one’s mind and leave it just as quickly, leaving in it’s wake one to ponder, to ponder: Who? What? When? When?
From the time he’d first seen her at the airport but simply could not pull the picture from his mind.
Now but seven or so feet away, he did see the – Most probably no one else would notice, at least in his mind, the resemblance.
Authors Notation:
Born in September of 1934, near to the day one month younger than Mitchell. Two years older than Marsha.
Union Pier, Michigan
August 5, 1949
Marsha 12 tears old.
Mitchell 15 years old.
Not wanting to interfere with their game.
“Hi!” Norman said.
“Hi!” The girl waiting her turn to play smiled.
Dong! Dong! Racking up points— 38,000, 42,000—the steel ball sat in the hole for what seemed a long time before it was poked out. The game display showed seven games.
“Hey, you’re pretty good at this!”
Glancing at Mitchell, the girl smiled, then returned her concentration to the rolling silver ball.
“I’m Norm, and this is Mitch.”
“Hi! I’m Shelly and this is…”
The fifth ball rolled into the pen. The machine went dark then lit up again and the number in the game display changed from seven to ten.
Turning from the pinball machine, she looked at Mitchell.
The girl was tall and thin. She had a sharp widow’s peak and short, tightly curled black hair. Darkly tanned, her complexion was perfectly smooth. Her eyes were dark brown and, having a slightly long nose, reminding Mitchell of a picture he’d seen of a ‘Sabra’, a native-born Israeli, her face Semitically beautiful.
“…Marsha...” Shelly said. “...this is Norm and Mitch.”
Time going forward to…
Chicago, Illinois
Outside The Jewish Community Center
March 20, 1954
8:10 PM
Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Mitchell turned around.
Tall and thin. Weighing about a hundred-twenty pounds and at least 5’7”. She wore Levi’s, a blue Ship’n’Shore blouse, and a red club jacket.
The girl had curly black hair pulled back, emphasizing a sharp widow’s peak and bound closely to the scalp giving her a ponytail that hung to just below her shoulders.
She had dark-brown, almond-shaped eyes and well defined eyebrows. Her complexion clear and dark, the girl had an oval-shaped face with a small mouth and a straight, slightly hooked nose, giving her, if not a totally beautiful face, then most certainly a lovely, classically Semitic aspect.
Slightly familiar, Mitchell’s eyebrows knotted as he tried to place her… but couldn’t.
Smiling mysteriously. “You truly don’t remember me, do you?”
Silence...
“Well...” breaking the silence “...the last time we saw each other, you were pretty darn rude.”
“Rude? Come on! I’d never be rude to a girl as pretty as you.”
“Obviously you didn’t think I was very pretty then… Tell you what, I’ll give you a hint.”
Staring… Trying to remember.
“It was in Union Pier and you walked me home…Almost, until you found out that I wasn’t quite thirteen.
Union Pier? The words ‘Union Pier’ sending the pages of his memory ruffling backwards.
“Oh, God, that was…”
“I called you a big jerk, and told you to drop dead.”
Having a recollection of a warm night and soft music, and of a girl with fireflies reflected in her dark eyes… and also, a soul-touching kiss. “Yeah! You’re, uh…?”
“Marsha, Marcie Goldman.” Seeing a look of remembrance in his eyes, “You remember now, don’t you?”
“Yeah! Sure I do!” Stepping back, looking at her face. “Marsha, you look...
She’s beautiful!
Time going forward to…
Seagate, New York
December 21, 1955
10:05 PM
Mitchell felt a tightening in his throat, a binding within his chest, and a stinging in his eyes, and he was sure Marsha could hear the thumping of his heart, because…
A study of youth and beauty…
Illumination coming from the open bathroom door framed and back-lit, while the muted light from the one burning lamp, glowing through its parchment-like shade, cast Marsha in a buttery-yellow blush.
Cinched at the waist, the long, diaphanous gown opened into an inverted V from below the shadow of her pubic hair and widened as it fell along her long, slender legs, ending at her bare feet. The upright V of the gown widened from the waist up, leaving Marsha’s chest bare, but covered her breasts with a transparent, white sheen. Easily visible, her breasts laying slightly to the sides of her chest, the dark-pink areola of Marsha’s nipples had a soft, white cast, and….
In this protracted moment, in this flickering point in time, the absolute beauty of his nineteen-year old bride became indelibly etched onto the mind of Mitchell Lipensky.
March 18, 2010
Westlake Village, California
2:14 PM
Mitchell had noticed ‘something’ .
A thought. A memory. A person. A time – can flash into one’s mind and leave it just as quickly, leaving in it’s wake one to ponder to ponder: Who? What? When? When?
From the time he’d first seen her at the airport but simply could not pull the picture from his mind.
Now s but seven or so feet away, he did see the – Most probably no one else would notice, at least in his mind, the resemblance.
Thought of the woman sitting but seven feet away and of one who’s face was as the flash of a quickly ruffled deck of playing cards.
Observing the quizzical look on his face as Mitchell took his place closely alongside Marsha and behind the control counsel.
“What?”
Turning the ignition key, the battery operated motor hummed to life as Mitchell rotated the wheel to starboard causing the pontoon party boat to sluggishly turn westerly in a wide semi-circle.
Her question unanswered, however not bothered by his look, as it was more in wonder than anything he seemed bothered by.
“Better fasten your seat belt.!”
“Really?”
“We’re at ‘flank Speed’ now.”
Laughing. “Mitchell…” looking at the slightly following wake “...I love it, but we’re hardly moving.”
On Westlake Lake taking the long route around ‘West Lake Island’ to the far end of the lake and ‘The Landing’ restaurant.
“We’re taking the log way around.” Bring her hand to his mouth and kissing it. “You hungry?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Okay, we’re heading there now.”
Pointing to port. “See that long white place that looks like three houses together?”
Shading her eyes. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
‘Mariel Hemingway ’ lives there..”
“ ‘Muriel Hemingway’?”
“Earnest’s Granddaughter.”
“Like I said, pretty fancy neighbourhood you… ‘we’ live in.”
“You don’t know the half of it. You’ll see people moving shopping carts that you’ve seen in movies or on television all your life.”
“Mitchie, when you got on the boat, you were looking at me very strangely. Every thing okay with us?”
“Marcie, I love you and cannot even say how happy I am that you’re here with me.”
Hesitating before answering her question.
“Ever since I picked you up at the airport, there was something about you that was different.”
“Yeah. I’m a seventy-three year old broad with white hair that you hadn’t seen in twenty-four years.”
“Actually, yes. But more than that…”
“What?”
“Strange, I’ve been looking at your face all of my life…”
“Except for the last twenty-four years.”
“Yeah. But that doesn’t matter, because now I know who you kind of remind me of.”
“ ‘Godzilla’?”
“ ‘Sophia Loren’.”
Next PIT 3/10: Noticed
