With Vic behind the wheel, they headed home. Frank slumped against the passenger door almost asleep.
“I bet I’ll never see either of them again,” he said quietly and turned to look out the side window.
For the next several days, Frank hung around the neighborhood and didn’t go out to drink. Mostly, he would shoot pool or go to Purity’s for coffee and maybe take Gladys, one of the waitresses, out for a drink.
The last week of his furlough, Vic and his brother were walking home from Lou’s pool room. Frank looked around and said,” It’s hard to imagine when I see all the people around here. Almost everyone is Jewish. In Europe, especially Germany, in almost every city there were lots of Jews. Now there ain’t hardly any left. The fuckin’ Nazis killed them.”
“We gotta do something to make sure that never happens again,” Vic said. “I think I’m gonna volunteer at HIAS, you know that Jewish organization that helps refugees. Ma tells me she thinks I would like getting involved in helping people.”
Frank smiled. “I think that’s a good idea. It’s the kind of thing all young guys should do. In your case, I think you can learn a lot by helping people.”
The following Sunday, Vic visited the HIAS office and volunteered to teach English to newly arrived refugees.
His first student was twenty two year old Samuel, a sign painter from Bulgaria; who specialized in making small show cards and paper flyers which required perfect spelling and language. He had been in the country less than a year working in the stockroom of a paint factory. Vic sat across from the thin sandy haired man, showing him flash cards of common words.
For an hour Vic held up cards, identifying each and pronouncing it; Samuel slowly repeating each word.
“Victor, I not so good? You make face.”
“You’re doing fine, I’ll have you painting signs in a few months. It’s just that you have to work on saying the words a little better. I don’t always understand you.”
“How bout son bitch, shit, asshole, I learn work. colors too, red, blue,” he smiled.
“Teach me talk to girl.”
“Look you understand a lot, but if you want to learn about talking to girls go to the movies.
“In the meantime, here’s a book about children, Dick the boy and Jane the girl. We’re going to read it together a few pages at a time and then you’ll read it back to me.”
Samuel mastered Dick and Jane by the second week. He also went to three movies and bought sheet music to read after hearing the songs on the radio.
A few weeks later Vic added two more men to his English class. Little did he suspect that the Sunday morning sessions would continue for three years; resulting in scores of men and women learning to read and speak their new language.
Sally had been calling every day but Frank wouldn’t talk to her. After one of the calls, Ma sat on the couch close to Frank in the easy chair.
“Frankie, don’t you think you should talk to Sally? She loves you and is worried about you. To tell you the truth, we are all worried about you. You go out every night and drink.”
“Ma!” Frank answered irritably, “I’m okay, don’t worry, I can handle it.” In a softer tone, he went on. “As far as Sally, Ma, I can’t be married now. Please try to understand, I’m not the same guy I was two years ago. I gotta handle this myself. And don’t worry about the drinking. I’ll take care of that, I promise. Just let this war be over and let me come home and straighten myself out.”
The news of the atom bomb and the likelihood that the war would be over soon made a big difference in Frank. He seemed happier and more relaxed. He even began talking with Pa about what he was going to do when the war ended. Three days after V-J day, he reported to Fort Sheridan.
By dinner time two days later, he called to say that his orders had been put on hold and he would have to stay there for a few days. Ten days later he was discharged and returned home.
Chapter 3
The week after Frank was discharged, he came into the kitchen. Pa, in a white open collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, had the newspaper in his hand and lowered it as Frank stretched and yawned.
“You know, I have a customer that just died and his widow is trying to sell their car. Maybe you should look at it.”
Taking a cup from a shelf in the small pantry, Frank poured a cup of coffee and sat opposite Pa at the round wooden table. He wiped a spot of coffee from the worn oilcloth with a dish towel and reached for the rye bread. He cut off the heel of the bread and spread a generous dab of butter on it.
After taking a bite, Frank nodded. “I really do want a car and with my discharge money, I think I can afford one.”
Emptying his cup, Pa got up and placed it, along with a plate, in the sink. “Good, I’ll make arrangements to see it,” he said as he wiped his face with a dish towel and put on his old gray fedora.
That afternoon, Pa, Frank and Vic hopped in the Dodge and went to see the widow. She lived on Drake near Argyle in a quiet area of brick two-flats lined up in a long row from one end of the block to the other. Pa recognized the car at the curb and parked across the street.
“I think I see her looking out of the window,” he said, smiling. “See her?” He gestured with his head. “The first floor, where the curtain is pulled back, I’ll ring the bell and let her know we’re here.”
A few minutes later, he returned with the keys. The widow had come out and was standing on the stoop, watching them.
Frank, his forehead creased, circled the vehicle and touched a few spots as if checking the paint job. The light grey, 1940 Ford Sedan had eighty-five thousand miles on it, but showed no rust or dents.
Pa bent to check the tires and see if there were any leaks under the car. Straightening, he raised his hand with the keys, looking at the widow. “Mind if we take it for a ride?” he shouted.
Holding up an arm and nodding, she waved to show it was okay. The three of them jumped in, Vic in back and Pa next to Frank behind the wheel. They pulled slowly away from the curb. All remained quiet as they listened for suspicious knocks or rattles.
“Sounds okay to me,” offered Pa after about a block.
“Ssshh, I can’t hear if the gears grind,” Frank replied.
“With a new set of seat covers, it’ll look great,” Vic chimed in.
Turning, Frank signaled him to be quiet. “It pulls slightly to the right, but I think it might need new tires. Other than that, it sounds good.”
They drove for about ten minutes, Vic noticing from his place in the back seat that Frank’s shoulders looked more relaxed since he’d retired his uniform and his hair looked to be getting a little longer.
The car stopped abruptly several times. “The brakes feel good,” Frank said, nodding.
Then he gunned the motor and shifted gears quickly. “Good pick up and the gears don’t grind. I like that,” he smiled.
Pa smiled, with a wink.
On Lawrence, they rumbled on the cobblestones and streetcar tracks. Frank held up his hand, motioning for silence. His face was scrunched up as he concentrated on listening for rattles or bumps.
“Sounds good, hardly a rattle and the springs and shocks are good too.”
Back in front of the widow’s building, they stopped. Frank twisted back, with his right arm on the back of the front seat and expertly backed the Ford into the same spot it had been in before. Getting out, he closed the door firmly. Next, he tried the other doors and trunk. Once again, he began to circle the car, looking under it and standing on the running board to check out the roof. He stepped back about twenty feet, looking again for any signs of previous body work. Then he walked to the passenger side and opened the hood. Leaning in, he sniffed to see if anything was smoking and began touching a lot of wires and hoses looking for leaks or frayed spots.
Closing the ho
od, he nodded to Pa, who was watching his every move and appeared to be enjoying the way his son was evaluating this major purchase.
Without looking at Pa, but concentrating on the car, he asked,” How much does she want?”
Pa cocked his head to one side, pushing his hat back, squinting, as if in serious thought. “She said three-fifty, but if you’re interested, I think I can talk to her.”
Vic looked first at Frank and then at Pa and then back and forth again. He had his hands in his pockets and was soaking up the knowledge of how to negotiate a deal.
After a pause, Frank replied. “Yeah, Pa, this is a good car, but three fifty? Hell, it only sold for about seven hundred brand new, five years ago.”
“Frank, do you want it?” Pa asked, signaling his usual impatience.
“Well, yeah, but that’s a lot of money.”
With a smile, Pa held up his hand, “I’ll talk to her.”
The two boys watched as Pa started toward the widow, motioning for them to wait. As he approached her, he raised his hand and took off his hat.
She was standing with her arms folded on the small porch, waiting for him. A very thin woman, she looked to be in her late sixties if you ignored her glasses, which made her look like she was even older. Wearing a pale yellow sweater over a dark dress with her short grey hair combed back neatly, Vic thought she looked like a school teacher.
It was too far for the boys to hear the conversation, but they watched as Pa stood next to the small woman. He was fiddling with his hat, creasing it and turning the brim and smiling while talking. Placing the hat on the back of his head, he put his hand to his chin and shook his head slowly. The widow tilted her head and touched his arm, smiling.
Frank grinned at Vic. “You know, I remember when I used to work for Pa in the cleaning store. All the women used to flirt with him. He would charm ‘em with his stories. I bet he’s working on her.”
“He really is a good lookin’ guy. I don’t know if it’s the smile or the mustache, but I remember that Ma used to give him shtick about teasing the ladies and all the stories he told them.”
Adjusting his hat, Pa walked back to where they were standing. “Don’t look over there,” he said, motioning with his head and eyes at the widow. “Just look like we’re having a big discussion. I told her you just came back from overseas and liked the car, but couldn’t afford it. Now shake your head no, like you’re disgusted, but don’t look at her.”
In the meantime, Vic noticed that Pa quickly glanced at her to be sure she was watching as they were talking.
“Okay, just a little bit more. Keep pretending we’re talking and make it look like you’re having a difficult time making up your mind,” he cautioned.
Vic was fascinated by the way Pa was planning on making the deal and the charge he was getting by showing off for his sons.
“What’s goin’ on?” Frank wanted to know, trying to stifle a little laugh.
“The car is a steal, take my word for it. I know her and I can get it for two- seventy-five. My advice is, take it.”
“I agree.”
“Just follow me. Let’s walk over there now. I want you to tell her how glad you are to be home and thank her for accepting our offer. And Vic, I want you to meet her, too. Now, just remember, be especially polite and pay attention when we talk.”
Pa introduced the boys. “These are my two boys, Mrs. Levinson; Frank, who just came home from the war, and Victor, who is in high school.”
Frank smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ma’am,”
Vic smiled, too, and nodded in her direction.
Looking at the two boys while keeping her arms folded in front of her, she returned the smiles. “Nice to meet you boys,” she said, adding, “I didn’t know you had such good looking boys, Mr. Wayne.”
“Why thanks, Mrs. Levinson, You know, I think Frank is gonna look even better behind the wheel of the Ford.”.
Her answer was a shake of her head and a wink. “Morrie loved this car and I’m sure Frank will, too.
Frank handed her the money. She extended her hand to him and he shook it warmly. She seemed to relax as she smiled and said, “wait.” Counting out a twenty and a five she handed them back to Frank. “I’m glad you’re back from the war. Two-fifty is enough. You boys are so nice. I hope you enjoy the car.”
They turned to Pa, who winked.
Fifteen minutes later, after removing the license plates, they left with the title to the car in Frank’s pocket. Vic was in the passenger seat, tuning in the radio.
“Chattanooga Choo Choo” blared out the speakers as Frank put the car in gear and they started home.
Shaking his head, Frank laughed and gunned the motor. The Ford jumped and Vic whistled. “This car really is fast. I can’t wait to drive it.”
“Take it easy, I just got it. Let me get used to it.”
That night, Frank went out and didn’t make it home till daylight.
The next afternoon, when Vic came home from work, he found Flo sitting on the wooden steps of the back porch, holding his Aztec jacket. She was wrapped in a white terry cloth robe sitting on newspaper trying to keep the robe clean. A pink Turkish towel was wrapped around her freshly washed hair. Even without a drop of makeup, Vic could see why people always talked about her movie star looks. Even Shirley had mentioned that she looked like the new young star, Elizabeth Taylor.
“Shirley was here,” Flo said. “She came around the back when I didn’t answer the bell. She asked me to give this to you,” she said holding out the jacket. “Is that all over?”
“Yeah, I had enough. She was too serious.”
“Good, you don’t need a steady at this age.”
Vic took the jacket from Flo and sat two steps down from her.
Raising her arms to tighten the towel on her hair, Flo pursed her lips, “You know, I’m worried about Frank. Sally keeps calling me and I don’t know what to say.”
Leaning against the banister, Vic replied, “I don’t know what to tell you. Frank just seems to be getting used to being home, but I wish he didn’t get drunk every night down on Argyle Street.”
“Argyle Street?
“Yeah, there’s bars up and down the street, just east of Broadway. And you should see the women. That night I was there when his buddies were here, the sleaziest women I ever saw were climbing all over them.”
“What do you mean, sleazy?”
“You know they had make up, out to here,” he said holding his hand about two inches away from his face. “And they all had dark lipstick and real black-looking eye makeup. A couple, were even missing teeth.”
Flo scrunched up her face, closing her eyes.
“And you should have seen the outfits. Blouses down to here,” he motioned about midway on his chest. “And spike heels with skirts way above their knees. You would die if you saw ‘em.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“I hope so….I think he’s been taking out Gladys, the waitress from Purity. Do you know her?”
“Isn’t she the pretty blonde; the chunky one who wears a lot of makeup?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Do you think he likes her?”
“What do you think?”
With raised eyebrows, Flo shrugged.
“I just think he’s lonesome and she’s a lot of fun. Besides, she goes out with a lot of guys.” Vic said, turning up to look at his sister with a wicked smile.
“Is that all you guys think about?” Flo smirked, looking down at him.
“What about Sally?”
“I feel sorry for her. You know we got close while he was gone. She really loves him.” Flo paused. “She did something once, while Frank was gone, that bothered me.
“What do you mean?”
“She went o
ut with a friend of her brother’s that was in on leave. I found out from one of my girlfriends who saw them….I never forgave her for that. Maybe it’s just as well that they’re not together.”
“Wow, did you tell Ma?”
“No, are you kidding? I wouldn’t, and don’t you ever say anything either, to Ma or anyone, including Frank.”
Vic shook his head, looking up. He liked Sally and used to think about his sister-in-law, sometimes in ways that he knew he shouldn’t. It was hard for him to understand how his brother could walk away from those beautiful legs, that thick, chestnut hair and big boobs..
“Well anyway,” he said, “I think we should try to watch out for him.”
Tightening the towel on her hair again, Flo stood and re-did the sash on the robe. Picking up the newspaper and smiling, she tousled Vic’s hair, “I’m sure he’ll be okay. But you’re right, we should both watch him.”
Vic heard the screen door creak as she entered the house.
Now that he was alone, his thoughts drifted to Mitzi Rubin, whom he’d seen a few weeks before on V-J Day. They had met at the schoolyard the year before. It was just before he’d started to go with Shirley.
Sitting alone on the school steps one night after playing softball, he spotted a little blonde girl walking unsteadily with a thin woman of medium height following close behind. As the little girl came closer, she reached out and squealed, “Da!”
Smiling, Vic held out his hand. “Hi, pretty baby, where you going?”
Giggling, the toddler came closer, reaching out to him with both hands.
“Leave the man alone, Shayna,” the woman said with a soft accent. She looked at Vic. “She thinks all men are her father.”
“It’s okay; I have little sisters. I know how they behave. Is it okay if I hold her hand?”
Shayna cooed and giggled as Vic took her hand and swung it back and forth.
“She likes you. Usually, she just comes close and then runs away.”
The woman, in a plain short sleeved cotton frock, was now standing close behind the little girl. Vic noticed she was about five-foot-four, with dark blonde hair and a pretty, sort of plain face, with no makeup. She brushed her hair away from her face with her left hand, showing a thin gold wedding band as she talked. She wore no other jewelry.
Albany Park Page 4
