Time Marching On: (TMO) 7
Westlake Village, California
May 14, 2021
3:12 AM
Wishing I hadn’t spilled that last bit of watery scotch.
“ ‘My birthday’? You remembered, that ‘today’s’ my birthday?” I’d asked.
Remembering that life changing phone call on the evening of 8/24/61
“ Your birthday’s kind of coincidental.” Tarnowski laughed. “To tell the truth, I’ve got your job application in front of me and…
“My old job application?”
“Yes… Look, Mitch, we don’t like training a high potential man only to have him leave after two years.”
Still feeling guilty for leaving Transco as he had.
“So I thought we’d give you first crack at this.”
Holding my hand over the mouthpiece. “I think they’re offering me my job back,” I’d whispered to Marsha. “Bill Krupper’s actually retiring in October, and…
Though I never mentioned this part to Marsha.
"Actually it was Elizabeth… You remember Elizabeth Herzon?” Tarnowski had asked.
“Yes,”
“Anyway, when Bill announced his retirement date, Elizabeth suggested, and I hardheartedly agreed, that we should offer you part of Bill’s territory.”
Bill Krupper, one of Transco’s 'old timers', had one of the company’s most lucrative territories.
“Mind you, we’re not offering all of Bill’s territory, because it’s being split into thirds. You know Elizabeth has a part, but I think you know what even a third of that territory could mean.”
“I know you’re going to want to talk this over with Marsha…”
“His accounts? They’ll be turned over to… whoever takes this?”
“Yes. All but a couple that we’re taking on as house accounts.”
“How long do I have to think about this, Gene?”
“Today’s Thursday, so how’s about giving me a call before the end of work tomorrow… Oh yes, knowing the territory, we’ll give you a $700 a month draw and pay all moving expenses.”
Marsha and me discussed it in depth—naturally with no mention of Elizabeth.
August 25, 1961
“Okay, Gene,” I called Chicago the next day, “yes. How much time do I have? When do you want me to start?”
Screw it!
Pulling myself off the lounge, I went into the kitchen and poured myself another wee dram of scotch.
Thinking about that phone call all those years ago and how my life became different.
For the very first time in memory, Marsha and ne were happy together, and I believed truly in love.
We lived in a nice home in a nice neighborhood. I had a creative job that I truly loved. I was earning a good living. Our mothers interference no longer came, and if it did, it no longer mattered.
Hell, if for any reason either of us wanted to head back to Chicago to see family or friends, we were less than a five hour car drive away.
Sitting again. Forgot ice cubes so the first drink went down rather harshly.
Was it the job? The money? ‘Fuck no’! As much as I mentally denied and did not want to admit, it was Elizabeth.
Outside of sales meetings when we had to — where by mutual consent, or so I thought, we’d sit on the far opposite sides of the conference room for as not to come in contact with each other.
Don’t know wheaten she did, but I spent a year attempting not to ‘accidentally’ run into each other.
Hell, I remember ducking into doorways a number of times in order to avoid Elizabeth.
Truth be told, I was terrified of meeting her, as I knew, or hoped I knew how one thing could lead to another and further truth be told, I knew that I loved her, but also knew I was in love with my wife,
Sitting back now, the glass of warm scotch — which had become repugnant —held against my chest.
Problem was our territories butted each other as Elizabeth's territory began on the west side of Wabash Avenue and mine on the east side of Wabash, and we each had a few of Bill Kruppers old customers in the others territory that we did have to make monthly inventory calls on.
A glance across Wabash at the right— or wrong time. An accidental meeting in a buildings lobby. waiting for an elevator. Waiting for a stoplight to turn from red to green and accidentally meeting in the middle of Wabash.
Taking a sip of warm scotch, and forcing myself to swallow.
Oh, my God! How I prayed for in not to happen, and yet hoped that it would happen.
Oh, I’d guess that those times were the literal meaning of, ‘caught between a rock and a hard place’ with Elizabeth being the rock and my wife the ‘hard place’.
But we did it. Somehow we managed— with me at times playing ‘hide and go seek’ until… Okay, my old guys memory at play here as I certainly do,. and will always remember, too the day. The day it ended.
Downtown, Chicago
December 28, 1962
Waving back, having no place to hide, I watched as, the light changing, Elizabeth crossed Wabash Avenue.
My, God, how come I can still remember this?
Wearing a white, fur lined, near ankle length suede coat and a fuzzy pink hat pulled low onto her forehead, her long, dark blonde, honey-coloured streaked hair fanning onto her shoulders.
Beautiful!
Her cheeks red from the cold and wind, watching Elizabeth approach, My God, I’d thought. She’s so beautiful!
Little things, huh?
Hi.
I remember thinking of shaking hands; but knew if I took hold of her hand, quite possibly I would not want to let go.
Hi.
Looking at each other, we both stood wordless for a number of seconds. Until I asked, You still got calls to make?
No. Finished and heading to my car. You?
Yes, me, too, uh, all done.
So here’s where the whole thing with Lizzie and me started.
The thing I’d fear happening, was about to happen.
What I should have said was, ‘Happy New Year’ and gone home. But I didn’t.
You… I'd asked, in any hurry to get home?
No... She'd answered, no hurry.
Yeah, me, too. You want to grab a bite someplace? You hungry?
Yes, she said. I’m starving.
Looking south, Harding’s, okay?
Yes. Harding’s is fine.
Walking behind Elizabeth as she followed the hostess up the staircase, I… another one of those ‘old man remembering things.’ Remembering thinking she had thick calves and ankles —along with her well defined, swaying backside.
We'd been seated at a small table facing each other.
Sitting up now, both bare feet flat on the cool redwood decking.
My God! I was afraid slightest touch would start a process that would lead to infidelity and matrimonial disaster.
Not knowing how to start a conversation or what type of conversation to start. I remember studying the menu buying time needed to think of the start of a conversation.
Silence becoming pronounced…
How’d you find Peoria? You enjoy living there?
Remembering us looking at each other. Eyes unblinking. Elizabeth and me intently studying the face of the other, attempting to fathom the others thoughts.
We actually did like it there. .I finally said. It was far enough away and close enough and life was slower and things more peaceful.
Westlake Village
3:44 AM
We did a couple of minutes of small talk until a waitress bringing rolls, butter asked if we’d care for a drink?
Neither of us did and it was too long ago to remember what the hell we talked about until we ordered lunch.
Me? I ordered what I usually order: hamburger, medium rare, crispy french fries and… skipping the slice of onion because, no matter what might happen, I did not want to smell like onion.
As for Lizzy? She ordered what I'd later found she'd always order.
The house salad with vinaigrette dressing on the side and no croutons, please.”
That, our first meal together, should have given me an indication of her life-long motivation, but it didn’t… at least at that time.
Here you go, folks. Placing Elizabeth’s house salad with vinaigrette dressing, on the side, and my…
Oh, my God! From across the table, I could actually hear her stomach growl.
Possibly thinking she was drooling— which she might have been , Elizabeth dabbed at her lips with the napkin.
I saw her looking at my dish, and offered to share it with her.
No, watching my weight. She said.
It wasn’t till the first time we were naked together, two months later that I discovered the reason for ‘always’ the spartan meal.
But then, what she did or did not eat didn’t matter because I could have spent my life just looking at that beautiful face, and those tits… Oh, God!
Let me tell you; stretch marks and a cellulite rippled ass had absolutely no negative meaning to me because after those first two pussy-footing months, once we did, finally 'get together' I was so deeply in love with this lady, that there was nothing about Lizzy that turned me off.
Standing and padding to the rail, considering spilling the last mouthful of the putrid warm scotch onto the ice plant growing on the downward slope. Fuck it! My mind going back to our first Hardings lunch together, I drank it.
Taking a drink of water, I'd looked at her over the rim of the glass.
Toying with a slice of cucumber, I want to tell you something, she said in all seriousness.
Okay, I said.
I’m married.
You’re what?
Married. I’ve been married for about a year... She'd added, as though covering for a mistake, ...before I knew you were coming back to Chicago.
Which, I remembered, either scared the hell out of me, or caused a twitch in my cock. Most likely both.
Hearing the hum of the electric motor on the boat that had passed by a few minutes earlier, I strained to see it, but it was too close to the southern shore.
Certainly confused by my contradicting emotions:. Sad because Elizabeth said she was married, yet glad because foolishly thinking, If she’s married nothing can happen between us.
Going on as though she felt a need to tell me why she was married, or for some unknown reason to confess that she was a married woman.
It seems her entire family had been nagging her to find a nice Jewish boy and get married because, after all, at age twenty-six she wasn't a ‘spring chicken’ any longer and knowing of her past physical appearance ,Elizabeth most probably would not be able to maintain her present, well packed appearance.
So along comes this old biddy aunt of hers telling Elizabeth about the son of an old friend of hers that has an extremely handsome twenty-six year old son… Get this! Every Jewish Mother’s dream… that’s studying to become a Certified Public Accountant. A ‘CPA’!
So, pressure mounting for Lizzy to meet this guy, eventually she did, and, yeah, he was good looking, and, yeah, he was working on his CPA license and, I supposed, — because Elizabeth felt I was gone and out of her life— She became Mrs…
Oh, shit! If Marsha asked what we had for dinner yesterday, I’d have to tell her, ‘I don’t remember’. But… how the hell do I remember insignificant stuff like...
Elizabeth told me she had become Mrs. Myron Lipshitz.”
Reminding myself why I’m going through past history like this; guess it’s just to see if my life would have been different if…?
Well, anyway, Lizzy being married did not stop us from what did become our monthly sexual interludes as Myron, whom was working for a large far south side accounting firm, was never home before six-thirty, seven— Many hours after Lizzy and me had concluded our ongoing tryst.
Lizzy and me had our accidental meeting and first lunch on 12/28/61.
We met for a planned lunch again on 1/18/ 63.
We had a planned lunch, and then I followed Elizabeth to her apartment on 2/23/63.
Know what? Been there and done that and don’t want to go through all that sexy stuff again.
4:05 AM
Am getting a bit chilly standing outside in my summer weight pajamas, so anyway...
Seems like Elizabeth would have rather spent her life eating the house salad as a means to control her weight than exercise. And as Myron Lipshitz was a health nut— You know, the kind of guy that meets his high school pals every Sunday morning at eight o'clock to play three or four hours of basketball and the kind of guy that works out in a gym a number of evenings each week— that within months of their marriage began to push his wife into a completely unwanted regimen body slimming exercise, so that...
Within four months of the start of Lizzie’s and my affair, she announced that Myron and her were in the process of a divorce, that ultimately led to my…
Before I go in to rejoin Marsha in bed, just a hint; If you ever plan on a long running affair, it would be best if the other person had the same name as your spouse.
Next: Time Marching On (TMO) 8
