New Phase 4: Milt & Sherry

Westlake Village, California

March 27, 2010

4:05 PM

“Milt, let me say this: Sharon is a nice lady and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Sighing, “There you go again with that ‘nice lady’ thing.”

“You’d rather she not be a ‘nice lady’?”

“Well, yeah. Least ways that way I don’t have to be such a nice guy.”

“You’re always a nice guy, Milt.”

“Bullshit! What time am I supposed to pick her up?”

“Six.”

“Got me right in traffic, huh?”

Looking at Marsha, motioning her to come to sit on his lap. “But only halfway through the valley.”

“Then there’s the other halfway back.”

“Give you time to get acquainted with Sharon.”

“Schmuck!”

This back and forth between the two friends, said ‘somewhat’ in jest.

“I’ll give you her address when I see you.”

“Okay.”

“Later, pal.”

4:12 PM

On my lap, Marsha’s head resting on my shoulder. “You heard?”

“Yeah. So now I guess it’s only between Milt and Sherry.”

“And…” rolling my eyes upward.

Both arms about her waist. “Mitchie…” spoken softly into my ear “...something’s been on my mind that I’d like to talk to you about.”

Guess it’s just my pessimistic attitude. Marsha’s words spoken directly into my ear. Drawing my head back, looking directly into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Positively, absolute ,nothing’s wrong. Ever since…” thinking “...my, God! It’s only been ten days since I knew we’d be seeing each other again, and I’ve got to say that in my wildest imagination I ‘never’ thought things…” her arm sweeping about the room, then patting her husband's chest “… would be so wonderful.”

“But something’s wrong.”

“No, baby…” pulling back looking into my eyes “...nothing’s ‘wrong’. There’s just something that’s been on my mind that I want us to talk about.”

“A problem?”

Thinking before speaking. “My God, Mitchie, I hope not, but that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Standing, going to the refrigerator and removing two cold bottles of beer. “Let’s talk on the boat, baby.”

Having not the slightest idea what was bothering Marsha; “You want to be ‘skipper’?”I asked.

The word, ‘Skipper’ triggering memories for Marsha going back to the evening of June 15, 1955, the evening she met Myra and Walter (Skipper) Lipensky: her future mother and father0in-law.

“You want to be ‘skipper’?”

“Yeah, I do, but...” remembering what she had been wearing for their lunch at The Valley Inn. Putting the two bottles of beer back into the refrigerator “...give me a minute to change into something more… nautical.”

“Me, too, I guess.”

Following Marsha into now ‘their’ bedroom.

“It’ll be getting cool out there…” I said “... so something a little warmer.”

Always loving the sight of my wife naked, or even partially naked while dressing, or, as it was now, changing into jeans and a button down light weight jacket, as I changed into chinos and a wind breaker zipper jacket.

Taking the Coronas from the refrigerator as I took the keys to the boat from the desk drawer, Marsha was half way down the railroad tie steps by the time I got outside.

Only the second time behind the ‘helm’. What do I do?”

“First thing…” handing her the keys “...turn the motor on.”

Laughing. “Oh, yeah. Reaching to me, she took the key as I stepped onto the dock tossing off the two half-hitches from the two dock cleats — as the boat immediately bean to drift from the dock I jumped aboard.

“What do I do now?”

“Move the gear forward.”

The boat began to move under power.

“Let’s go the long way.” Marsha said rotating the wheel to starboard. Slowly turning we turned north-westerly.

“Open the beer, will you?”

On his deck, dozing on a cushioned deck chair, Milt heard Marsha and Mitchell board the boat.

Jealous? Yes! But not of his friends happiness, more so that Marsha coming back into Mitchell’s life reminded him that he was alone and that most probably he would always be alone.

Thought of his ‘blind date’ the next evening wholly inconsequential, because what are the chanciness?

Sitting up, Milt watched as the boat pulled from the dock making a wide circle to the north-west.

“Open the beer, will you?”

Popping the caps on both Coronas, handing Marsha one, I sat directly alongside, and not knowing what was bothering her, I waited a bit fearfully for her to speak.

“Mitchie, first off I want you to know that I love you more now than I ever thought I could.”

“Me, too, Marcie. I love you like that also.”

Taking a long draw of beer. “I know you do, and that’s part of the problem.”

“Why? Why is my loving you part of ‘what’ problem?”

“Think back, baby. Think of all those times… Four times, as a matter of fact, that you and me separated — twice, I know of that got so far as a… Actually it was that judge in ‘fifty-six’ that talked us into ‘trying again’ after our lawyers got to him.”

“Yeah…” not knowing where this conversation was going, certainly not in a comical mood, however laughing “...that was the night you puked all over that fucking cop that was scaring the shit out of you trying to get into your pants.”

“More like trying to get me out of my pants.”

Glancing over her shoulder at their snake-like, squiggly wake.

Going on with their… rather her conversation.

“Then there was that unbelievably stupid time, less than a year later when I packed up the baby and we hid from you for three months.”

“And nobody would tell me where you were. That was the loneliest saddest time of my entire life, Marsha.”

“Actually mine too.”

“You could have gone to jail for that.”

“Really! How so?”

“When I was talking to Elizabeth’s lawyer, he told me that you had no right taking my baby out of the state without my permission, and crossing three state lines to keep him from me was kidnapping.”

“That was so stupid on my part! But anyway you got as far as a lawyers office in ‘sixty-three ...”

“Yeah. Whenever anyone asks ‘do you remember where you were the day Kennedy got assassinated’, I remember I was in a lawyers office getting ready to start a divorce procedure. Yeah I sure as hell do remember.”

Taking a long drink of beer. “You remember every time we got back together…”

“I remember how happy we… At least how happy ‘I’ was every time we got back together.”

Looking about, at the slowly passing scenery. “That’s my point, Mitch. Four times we were on the verge of divorce, and each time we got together again all… At least ‘all’ seemed to be forgotten as far as you were concerned.”

“I do remember, Marcie. Each time was like our first time and we loved each other, and couldn’t get enough of each other…”

Repeating, “That’s my point. Each time we put our little family together you loved me, but…”

“There was always Stanley!” I said bitterly.

“Yeah, Mitchell, I never stopped loving him and, like I told you at Elysium, ‘I couldn’t stand you and only wanted Stan’.”

Moving from her. Moving to the side bench seat. “And now?”

“Mitchie, I love you and only you and this whole thing. This whole conversation was to tell you… To let you know that… In case you were remembering the good, happy times immediately after each of our separations, then, in a few weeks, all of the misery would begin again… This is to let you know it will ‘not’ happen again!

“Why? ‘Cause he beat the shit out of you and knocked a few teeth out?”

“Yeah. I suppose you could call that the last realisation because he was a lazy, worthless slug, and… You remember my uncle ‘Willie’?” Marsha suddenly asked.

I had always liked Marsha’s uncle Bill. He was always good to Marsha and me. Got us that beautiful ‘52 Ford convertible as a wedding gift.

Thing about ‘Uncle Willie’ was that he was a ‘thug’ and convicted thief, actually spending years in Joliet Federal Penitentiary.

Marsha mentioning her uncle’s name conjured the picture of a beaten beyond recognition and, he ‘was’ a lazy, worthless slug— if Stanley Jacobson were even still alive. Which I did not want to know.

“Mitch, the past ten days have been the happiest I can remember…”

“Me, too.” I said.

But you and me are human and we both know that once beyond this ‘fairy tale’ time there will be times of… to say the least, stress. And that’s only human..”

“Especially at our age.”

“Yeah. But no matter what, I will always love you and will, I promise, never want to be away from you again.”

Moving closer. One arm across her shoulders and one hand onto her thigh. “Me, too, Marcie! I love you and never want to be away from you again.”

“I promise you! I promise I’ll ‘never’ go to sleep angry at you!”

Coming up to the area of The Landing.

“You want to go ashore for a drink or something?”

“No, baby…” Marsha’s hand on my upper thigh, breathing warmly in my ear “...You want to eat my pussy?”

“You want to suck my cock?”

The boat, turning in a wide loop, headed home in what Milt and Mitchell call, ‘Warp Speed’.

Passing through Woodland Hills

March 28, 2010

5:28 PM

Knowing the Los Angeles freeway system, as Milt had thought, outgoing and incoming traffic was, as usually was at this time of day, at a snails pace crawl.

5:32 PM

Into Tarazana — as usual all traffic stopping at Reseda Boulevard, then crawling on at…

5:43 PM

Passing White Oak Avenue into Encino and exiting the freeway on to Havenhurst, where going south past Ventura Boulevard for about a half mile, then making a right onto Wells Drive for about a quarter mile, then a left onto Encino Avenue and up the twisting street to 3322 Encino avenue, where, pulling to the curb, Milt stopped the Cadillac at 6:02 PM.

March 28, 2010

10:15 AM

Not expecting much to come of tonight’s blind date with Mitchell’s neighbour, but non the less, Sharon had not had a date, or, for that matter even privately been with a man since the death of her husband, Clyde, two years earlier.

Truth be known, omitting Clyde’s deepening stages of Alzheimer's disease, the marriage of Clyde and Sharon Murphy had been in marital shambles for years and it was not with too much reluctance on Sharon’s part to have Clyde committed to an ‘assisted living’ facility six months prior his death.

A passionate and deeply sensitive woman, Sharon had witnessed a great deal of gilt for having Clive removed from their home; considering if she had held on a bit longer, Clive might have survived longer.

Lonesomeness and need of male company getting the better of her, though— what are the chances — not expecting much to come of tonight’s blind date with Mitchell’s neighbour.

At 10:15 on this morning, calling the beauty saloon she had patronised for years, Sharon Murphy had a facial and— Liking! Very much liking the style and appearance of Marsha’s pure white hair, for the first time in thirty years, stripping the blonde colouring, Sharon allowed her white streaked, light grey hair to be seen.

6:04 PM

Wearing sharply pressed dark brown slacks and a tan wind breaker, running his fingers through his hair while walking to the door, Milton Abrams knocked.

“One Minute!”

On the other side f the door, purposely taking time to open it, Sharon Murphy ran her fingers through her moderately shortcut, minimally white streaked grey hair giving her hair the appearance of being slightly wind-blown.

Wearing designer jeans and a pink, scoop- necked, light weight cashmere sweater, before opening the door, using the tips of thumb and forefingers of both hands, pinching the upper flesh of both breasts, fluffing her breasts upward, then waiting a moment, Sharon opened the door.

In the flash of an individual thought...

Seventy-seven year old Sharon Murphy is 5’5”, weighs one hundred-thirty-five pounds, has a round face with startling blue eyes and short, shag cut, appearing to be wind-blown, white streaked grey hair

In the flash of an individual thought...

‘Adorable...’ In the eyes of the beholder ….Looking like a grandmotherly pixie princes.

“Hi! I’m Milt.”

Liking the way this old man looked. Indeed, Liking the way this old man looked.

“Hi! I’m Sherriy.” The grandmotherly — extremely horny, pixie princess said. “Care to come in for a while?”

Sherry smiled.

Milt melted.

Westlake Village, California

7:50 PM

“Hello.”

“Oh, hi, Marcie.”

“Hi, Milt. You want to talk to Mitch?”

“Thanks, but nor necessary. Just tell him I said you two better start dinner without us.”

A ‘third wheel’?

Think not.

Next: Phase 5: Time Onward