Lakeside, Michigan
3/24/2010
2:32 PM
“Marcie…” the side of her face between his shoulder and chin “… I love you,” Spoken softly directly into her ear.
Turning her head enough to look into his eyes. “Oh, my, God, Mitchie, me too..” her tone serious “...but I need you to promise me something.”
Waiting for some sign or word.
He nodded his head.
“When I die…”
Jerking forward, seriously spoken. “You’d better not!”
“Mitchie, if I go before you, I want you… I ‘need’ you to promise me something.”
“I will, baby… I promise!”
I want to be cremated and my ash’s spread into the water…” pointing to her childhood summer spot “...there. ‘Promise!”
“Marcie, I can’t even imagine life without you!”
“ ‘Promise’!”
“I will, baby.”
New Phase 1: Milt
Westlake Village, California
March 25, 2010
Marsha and Mitchell returned home.
Landing at Los Angeles International airport at 3:45 PM, getting caught in a dense, crawling stream of late afternoon traffic on the ‘405’, then into even slower moving traffic on the ‘101’, it takes the red and grey, year 2000 Lincoln Continental near an hour and a half to get to…
...Westlake village.
5:10PM
Turning onto the driveway then into the garage at 2821 Waterview Lane, the first thing noticed was that the ‘For Sal’ sign had been removed from Milt Abraham's lawn.
“I’ll get the bags, Marcie.”
“Okay.” But waiting until he’d popped the trunk, she took one of her three suitcases.
In the second bedroom — until she and Mitchell figured out the closet space in ‘’their’ bedroom, she hung her clothing in the empty closet.
Opening doors and windows. Onto the rear deck, “Milt!”
“Thought I heard you guys...” came the immediate reply
“...I’ve the grill warming. You and your bride care to come on over?”
“What’s cooking?”
“Just went shopping, so nothing’s frozen… Steak? Pork Chops?”
“Give me a minute to ask Marsha.”
“Hey, baby, Milt is bar-b-quing and wants to know if we’d like to have dinner there, and If you want a pork chop or a steak?”
“Yeah, I’d love too… Pork Chop.”
6:1 4 PM
Cutting into his medium rare rib-stake, “So how’d you find things in old ‘Chi’ town?”
Having taken a quick shower and changed into peddle -pushers and — ashamed of the loosely hanging flesh of the underside of her upper arms — an elbow length blouse.
Chewing and swallowing her thick cut pork chop. “We took care of business… You know, separating what the movers would take and what was to go to ‘Goodwill’, and settling the listing with my nephew…” ice cubes brushing her lips as she drank from her glass of ‘Coke’ “…Mitch and me changed our flight plans…”
Speaking over the rim of his martini cup. “Figured, you did when you didn’t…” putting the cup down and cutting into his steak “… get back yesterday.”
Finding that since Marsha came back into his life, he’d just as soon have a ‘coke’ or ‘Pepsi,’ and a martini was no longer needed — not that, so Mitchell thought, a martini was ever ‘needed’.
“Marcie and me decided to take a, uh, you might call it a nostalgic trip into the past to see what might still be like we remembered.”
Cutting into his steak. “And was it?” Milt asked.
“ ‘Fuck, no’!”
“Excuse my french…” glancing at her husband “ ...‘Fuck, no’! It sure as hell wasn’t!”
Liking this lady more and more each time he was with her and maybe —brushing the thought away, more than he should.
At this moment wishing he’d had the martini Milt had offered. “Every thing we knew had changed.”
Becoming a bit glassy eyed. “my favourite restaurant. Because my mother was never home, the place I ate at almost every day when I was a kid is now a parking lot.”
Deciding. “Yeah, okay Milt…” holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart “... give me a small one.”
Receiving a cup of martini.
“Marcie and me drove to my old neighbourhood on the west side and it ‘wasn’t’ there.”
“What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t there’?”
“Milt, the whole block, from Homan to Nineteenth Street to ‘Christiana’ to ‘Ogden Avenue’ was gone. There was noting but flat out old yellow dirt.”
“I’ll take a little of that, too, Milt.”
Pouring Marsha a half cup.
“We drove into the country…”
“To Union Pier and where Marsha had lived…”
“Lakeside.” Marsha said.
“It used to be a dirt stop in the road that had a bowling alley…”
“And a ‘Greyhound’ bus stop…” Marsha said “... and a thousand cheap summer cottages for rent.”
“After the war…” Mitchell said “...one of the places that wasn’t ‘restricted to Jews’, this the place Chicago and Detroit Jews went to for their vacation and rented — at least in my folks case, a two bedroom cottage not too far from the beach.”
“Mother and daddy, and my two aunts and some friends had been able to buy an entire cove of seven cottages and this was where I spent my summers till I was fifteen…” sipping her martini, and immediately feeling it “... and I ‘loved’ it there.”
Tasting the strong taste of gin. Feeling the gin. “That’s where Marcie and me met….”
“At a pinball machine.”
Refilling his cup, “When was that?” Milt asked.
Looking at Marsha, “Nineteen-forty-nine?”
“Yeah.” Marsha said. “But ‘everything’ had changed and nothing’s like we remembered…”
“We might as well have been in ‘Lake Sherwood’.”
“Nothing was even remotely quaint! Nothing was like the ‘country’ we used to know. Everything was like…”
“Lake Sherwood.” Mitchell said.
“Not to change the subject’…” Mitchell asked “... but what about your kids?”
“ ‘Cause I pulled the listing?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey…” I told them “...I’m the father! You're the kids and ‘you’ don‘t get to tell me where to live! And besides I ‘hate’ the fuicking desert. So I’m not going anywhere until I’m good and ready!”
Taking a swallow of his martini. “And besides…” smiling “...I got to keep an eye on my newlywed friends. See they don’t get into trouble.”
“Hey, Milt! Mitch and me are too old to get into trouble.”
“Well…” wiggling his eyebrows “...not ‘that’ kind of trouble.”
11:56 PM
As they had done on the two previous nights: lying nude with the double hung slider fully open to whatever slight breeze might wander in on this quiet night.
Face to face. Belly to belly. Thighs to thighs.
“You know…” Marsha said “...Milt’s jealous of us.”
“I know. I’d sure as hell be.”
Neither feeling the urge to make love. Mitchell’s right arm over Marsha’s hip, gently holding a cool cheek. Marsha’s left arm over Mitchell’s hip, gently squeezing and releasing a cool cheek.
“I’m glad your friend likes me.”
“Of course, Why shouldn’t he like you.”
Quiet... Formulating her words. Not wanting to say, maybe more than she should.“You know things are going to change between you and Milt.”
“Marcie, we’ve been best friends for twenty-four years and I get the feeling he’s happy that we got together again.”
“Yeah, I know he is. And If he sold his place and moved away everything would be okay.”
“Marcie…” moving back a bit “...if you’re thinking he’d ever make a ‘pass’ at you. We’re best friends, and I ‘know’ he’d ‘never’ do that.”
Hearing a slight tinge of anger in his voice. “Mitchie…” caressing the side of his face “...that’s not what I was thinking. You guys have done everything together. You told me how easy it was for you and Milt to pick up old ladies and take them for a boat ride, then back to your places for a fast fuck.”
“Damn! Guess I won’t be doing that anymore.”
Pinching his cheek “Better not…” Marsha said “...but that’s not what I’m talking about because part of the reason I’m here, with you, is because getting older, maybe we're all afraid of spending the rest of our lives alone.”
“I don’t think that’s why you’re here with me…” thinking a moment “...I don’t know, maybe that might be a little true .”
Sitting up now, her back against the headboard. “I don’t want to do anything to come between you and Milt, but eventually he’s going to feel like a third wheel and will start to make excuses not to be with us.”
Reluctant to put any kind of a wedge between himself and Milt — while knowing Marsha was that wedge. “So what can we do about it?”
“Find him someone.”
Sitting up also. “You mean like to fix him up with someone?”
A breeze coming through the sliders, both widening their bare thighs to accept it.
“Wonder if Sandy’s still alive, or how to get in touch with her.”
“Sandy from Elysium?”
“Yeah.”
“Trust me, Marsha! Sandy would definitely not be anyone that Milt would want to spend the rest of his life with.”
“Any of those old ladies you two picked up that he seemed to be particularly fond of?”
“If so, he never said, so I doubt it.”
Thinking, She’s right! Knowing it would only be a matter of time until a ‘third wheel’ complex would emerge splitting their long years of friendship.
“You know ‘anybody’? Any old lady clients that might not want to be alone also?”
“And if I did, what are we supposed to do? Tell Milt, ‘here! ‘Here’s a person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with’?”
“Maybe, baby…” slipping lower on the bed and, leaning over, she playfully kissed the nub of his penis “...all we can do is to wait to see how things play out.”
“Mmmm…” fingers twining a few of the surprisingly soft, tight white curls of his wives hair “...do that again will you.”
Rather than a mere kiss, she very easily drew her husband’s flaccid penis fully into her mouth.
Expanding…. His eyes closed to the erotic drawing sensation…
“Wait a minute!”
“I bite you, or something?”
“No, baby. But I think I just remembered someone.”
Sitting up again, facing him, “Who?”
Sharon Murphy
Encino, California
October 12, 2009
9:55 AM
After searching all six of her purses then the desk drawers, finding his card...
Westlake Village, California
10:03 AM
Coincidentally at his desk. “Hello.”
“Mitchell Lipensky?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“Mitchell, don’t know if you remember me. I’m ‘Sharon Murphy’.”
He had been paying ‘Country Club Reality’ fifty dollars a month for the past fifteen years to have his ‘associate real estate licence’ hang in their office in order to remain active.
Throughout those years he’d received an occasional call from a past client that was pleased with his professionalism and personality to facilitate the listing for sale of the property he had sold them years earlier, and in most cases assist them in finding and purchasing another house.
As Country Club Realty was a ‘one hundred percent office’, one hundred percent of whatever commission was generated went directly to the salesperson, making that fifty dollars per month — if even one yearly sale made a very nice investment.
His mind going into high gear as his fingers searched the small box containing informational index cards
“Sharon! Yes, of course I remember you. How are you and Clyde?”
“Me? For an old lady…”
“You don’t sound like an old lady, Sharon.”
“Was ‘seventy-seven’ last month, so I think that qualifies me and, as I was saying, for an old lady, I guess I’m doing okay… Clyde? Clyde passed away two years ago.”
“Clyde was a good guy. How can I help you, Sharon?”
“I’m not really sure I want to do it yet, but I’d like you… You remember where I live?”
“Yes, of course I do…” the ‘C. Murphy’ index card in hand “...thirty-four-O-eight Morris Avenue, Encino.”
“You remember that after all this time?”
“Nah, I’ve your file in front of me.”
“Like I say, I’m not sure I want to do it now, but I’d like you to stop by and let me know how much we could put this place on the market for. And you know the only reason I’m calling you now is because I remember that you’re a ‘no pressure’ person… And Clyde and me liked and trusted you.”
Encino, California
October 14, 2009
10:45 AM
I hadn’t seen Sharon Murphy for twelve years— not since the closing of escrow on the Murphy’ new home and at that time thought her an old woman. Bit mow, realising she was but a year older than me…
Opinions change.
Wearing jeans and a cardigan cashmere sweater, I could see the creased flesh of the swell of her ample tits and, as we walked from room to room, although a bit on the large side, I watched her ass as I followed her from the kitchen to the back yard.
This structure, quite possibly a ‘move on’ of one of the thousands of houses removed by ‘Eminent Domain’ at the then proposed site of Los Angeles International Airport making it at least seventy years old.
Sharon’s two bedroom, one bath, seventeen hundred square foot house, on a sixty-five by a one hundred- thirty foot lot, located in a ‘location’, ‘location’, ‘location’ area, in my opinion would be purchased as a ‘knock down’ to be replaced by a seventy year newer, ‘much’ more palatial structure.
Knowing this area, and having some idea what the value of a sixty-five by one hundred-thirty foot lot in this ‘south of the boulevard’might go for…
Knowing they had paid seventy thousand twelve years ago. “I think we can ask ‘one hundred-seventy-five thousand’.” I told Sharon.
“Hearing her gasp,”You really think so?”
Truly, I did. “Yes.”
“Okay. Look, Mitch, I’m not sure of this yet.”
Knowing they had no children. “Where are you planning on going?”
“Oh, I try to keep occupied, but… I am so tired of living by myself, and am looking into one of those ‘retirement’ apartments. But ‘hate’ the thought of being stuck in an institutional environment the rest of my life. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.
Never one to push a listing, especially with and old lady. “You’ll let me know when you decide?” I asked..
“It probably won’t be too long, but ‘yes’, of course I will.”
Westlake Village, California
March 25, 2010
11:25 AM
“That the last time you spoke to her?”
“No. I called back about three weeks later and she sounded annoyed and told me ‘she’d’ ’ call me when she’s ready.”
“You think Milt would like this Sharon?”
“Marcie, when I first met Sharon and Clyde, I saw a picture of her taken about, oh, thirty years earlier and wanted to say, ‘you were ‘so’ beautiful’! But the ‘you were’ felt more of an insult than a complement, so said nothing. And now that I can see beyond the age thing, she is still beautiful, so ‘yes’! I definitely think Milt will like her.”
“Question is, will she like him?”
“And how do we get them together?”
“Why don’t you call Sharon, and tell her that you and your ‘new’ wife are going to be in the valley tomorrow and would like to take her to lunch.”
“The ‘new wife’ thing should get her curiosity up, but still sounds pretty much as a push for her listing.”
“Or maybe an invitation to lunch for a lonely old lady.”
“Okay.”
Next:New Phase 2: Sharon
