Albany Park

by Myles (Mickey) Golde

  Using her short apron, Molly wiped the white dinner plates bordered with roses before setting them on the table.

  “Do you think I should have stuck with the wood table instead of the yellow formica and chrome?” she asked.

  “Nah, I like the new table, more modern. The new chairs are nicer, too. But what’s wrong with Shirley? Is she okay?”

  “She’s okay, but upset. You know she and Victor broke up a few weeks ago.”

  Lifting the cover of the large pot on the stove, he ladled out a taste of soup.

  “I didn’t know about Victor,” he answered softly, “but she’ll have new guy in a few weeks. With her looks and personality, the boys will be breaking down the door to take her out.”

  Molly stopped and thought for a moment before answering. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but whatever you say, don’t make light of it around her because it’s her first real boyfriend and to a young girl that’s very important.”

  Ben went to Shirley’s room and knocked on the door. “We’re sitting down Shirley, why don’t you join us?” Through the door, he could hear the muffled sound of the radio, playing, “Chatanooga choo-choo, won’t you choo choo me home.”

  Behind the door Shirley, curled in her bed, was sniffling softly into a pillow and thinking of Vic. She knew he was upset and frightened that she might be pregnant, but maybe now that he had time to think about her they would be back together. She knew he loved her, even if he didn’t say it. They would be married and she would make him happy. Smiling, she thought about asking him to let her wear his Aztec jacket tomorrow, or maybe she would wait a few days.

  ”Give me a few minutes,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Rolling out of bed, Shirley smoothed her skirt and straightened her sweater. Hearing her parents back in the kitchen, she quietly slipped into the hall bathroom next to her folks’ bedroom. Scrubbing her face, she removed all traces of the streaked eye makeup and ran a comb through her hair. Last, she pinched her checks trying to raise a little color before she joined them at dinner.

  Entering the kitchen, she smiled and walked around the table to give Ben a hug and kiss.

  “Sorry I’m late, but I feel better now that I rested. And, oh yeah, I made up with Victor and that makes me feel better too.” She smiled, taking the meat platter from her mother.

  Shaking his head, Ben winked at Molly, thinking how beautiful his young daughter was in her soft angora sweater and tight fitting long skirt. When she kissed him, he had caught a whiff of her hair and he sensed that she wouldn’t be his little girl for much longer.

  Chapter 6

  Walking home from Shirley’s house, Vic’s thoughts drifted back to when he was eight years old. It was a summer day and he had rolled up his pants cuffs and adjusted the thick strap of his roller skates. Pushing up from the curb, he moved toward a group of boys and girls that were skating close to where the street dead ended at the river. Getting near, he stopped, squatted on one knee and reached in his pocket for the metal key to tighten the skate clamps. Straightening, he joined the circle of boys skating around three girls who were bunched in the middle of the street.

  The July afternoon was hot without a breeze. Shaded by the tall trees reaching up from both sides of the street, the boys sped up and then cruised slowly around the wide eyed giggling girls.

  More kids were on the sidewalk. Two girls were playing roly poly, next to them was a younger one bouncing a rubber ball, reciting, “C, my name is Charlotte and I come from California, and my mother’s name is Clara,” while lifting her leg over the bouncing ball each time she said a word starting with the letter C. It was a game that could go on for hours through the entire alphabet as girls showed their skill with the rapidly bouncing ball and how clever they were with names and places. Further down, two other girls, faces flushed by the heat, amused themselves by facing one another and slapping hands while reciting a rhyming patter about Nello who lived on Monticello.

  Across the street, a group of small boys lagged bottle corks, trying to get closest to the lines separating the boxes on the concrete sidewalk. Bigger boys, who had just finished playing line ball in the street, one with a bat and another with a softball, had drifted over to some guys around a lamp post near the curb. Talking and guffawing loudly this bunch yelled remarks to the girls.

  Vic and the three other boys, all wearing bright striped cotton shirts, continued skating in the street, around the three girls. Gathering speed, they enlarged the circle; then streaked close to the frightened girls, reaching out to tag them. Giggles and high-pitched screams erupted and the girls started to chase after the boys. Shirley Siegal, her white shorts reaching to skinned knees, tried to catch Vic. A wiry competitor, she looked like a thin boy except for her long curly hair. Laughing, she chased him, but he dodged away until stopping abruptly and she crashed into him. The two fell with a loud shriek. Sprawled on the ground, they laughed. Pushing up on one arm, she punched his shoulder, saying, “Whyn’t ya look where you’re goin?”

  Recognizing her from school, he eyed her wild, curly dark hair and the perspiration on her flushed face, thinking she looked like the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Something about the slight bump on her otherwise straight nose and coy smile made him like her. The aroma of their two sweaty bodies also excited him as they sprawled in the street, tangled with one another.

  “Hi, I’m Victor. We just moved in a few weeks ago,” he said, cheeks turning crimson. He could tell, as they sat half-reclined in the street with their arms and legs touching, he wouldn’t forget her anytime soon.

  Sitting up, he slowly wobbled on his skates as he pushed himself up. Taking her hands, he helped her to her feet. Once upright, they stood, still holding both hands, he a little taller and looking down at her. Quickly releasing her left hand, he ran his free hand through his own tangled dark hair. She smiled and turned away but hung tight to his hand as she pushed off on her skates. He went along, allowing her to set the slow pace as they returned to the group. They separated as they got closer and he picked up speed to join the other boys, who were now playing tag.

  In the days that followed they sought each other out. If she were on the sidewalk playing ball or jumping rope, she always waved when she saw him look her way. He would respond with a smile or sometimes make a face to get her to laugh. When they played together, he always tried to be near her and she did the same with him.

  Two years later when they reached the fifth grade, Shirley made sure all the girls knew that Victor Wayne was her guy. He, being the shyer of the two, tried to keep his distance, but when the girls began having parties and kissing games he really liked kissing Shirley better than the other girls. In school, he would watch her, noticing how she brushed the hair out of her eyes while reading. Sometimes she frowned when concentrating on a difficult problem. Catching him looking, she would smile and he would quickly turn away. He caught her staring at him sometimes too; immediately, he would turn red. Many of the other girls were also pretty, but they didn’t have the same effect on him or make him feel something stirring inside of him like she did.

  As they got older, Vic, without admitting that he liked Shirley, still went to the parties to be with her. She, along with the other girls, often watched him as the boys played baseball or basketball. Occasionally, he walked her home afterward, but by the time they’d turned twelve, they had begun to drift apart.

  Things changed dramatically for Vic the summer they were starting seventh grade. Pa had come home one Saturday in April after a slow day at the cleaning store. The landlord, a short older man with a white beard, caught him coming up the stairs.

  “Say, Wayne,” he said pronouncing it “Vayne” in his heavy accent, “I need the rent.”

  “Oh yeah, I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Pa said without stopping.

  The old man tried to block his way, “That’s what you said last week. You know you
owe me two month’s already; another week, it’ll be three months,”

  Stopping, Pa pushed his hat back and shrugged. “Look, business has been slow at the cleaning store, but it’s starting to pick up. And I got a second job at the Ward office, working as a night watchman.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, Wayne, but I got a big family to feed and I can’t wait around any longer. You know I gave you a break on the rent, but now with the war and expenses going up, I need my money. Next week, or I’ll have to evict you. My married daughter wants your apartment anyway.”

  “Okay, don’t worry, I’ll have money for you this week,” Pa sputtered, pushing past the old man into the apartment.

  Closing the door behind him, he stood in the hallway shaking his head.

  Ma, wiping her hands on her apron, walked from the kitchen, hearing him come in. “What’s wrong?”

  Motioning with his head toward the kitchen, he moved in that direction.

  She retreated with him, not saying anything.

  Looking around to see if the kids might overhear, he sat and nodded to her to do the same.

  “So,” she said softly.

  He sighed and after brushing a few crumbs off the oilcloth, put both hands on the table. “We gotta move again; the old man is after us for the rent and we don’t have the money.”

  “Oy,” Ma sighed, shaking her head. “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yeah, I talked to him. He must have just come back from Schul, still in his Shabbos suit, carrying his prayer books. You would think that someone that religious would be more understanding, but he’s been hounding me for weeks,” he said looking down. “Even if I gave him some money, I think he’ll throw us out.”

  “Ah, I never liked this place anyway,” Ma said quietly, reaching out to cover his hand. “That old man and his kids, they’re so nosy. And he never fixes anything. Remember when the boiler broke last March and we had no hot water or heat for two weeks?”

  He looked at her hand covering his. “Look, Ma, do you think we can move next week? I may know of a place a block south of here. The rent is a little less and they’ll give one month’s free rent for decorating.”

  Squeezing his hand, she nodded and shrugged.

  The following Saturday, the family moved. And that summer, Vic went to work.

  His first job was as a helper for Abe, their milkman, a wiry guy with massive forearms and cheery disposition. Together, they drove through the alleys between Central Park and Pulaski road, in the small white truck, stopping every few buildings to drag heavy milk, cream and butter to the back porches of customers. Vic, the young helper, got most of the third-floor stops.

  Starting at six a.m., they worked until a short lunch break at ten-thirty and then finished the route around one-thirty. Vic was paid a dollar a day. It was tiring work, but Vic liked the job, especially Abe’s never-ending stories about the neighborhood and customers. The minute Abe crinkled his eyes and formed a smile as they approached a building, Vic knew another tale was about to unfold.

  “You see that apartment on the second floor,” as they approached a six-flat on the right, Abe would motion with his hand. “The one where I deliver a quart of milk every other day,” and Vic would answer with a nod.

  “That’s Mrs. Weissman, she lost her six-month-old son about five years ago. He went to sleep one night, and the next morning, he was dead. They never found out what killed him. She hasn’t stepped out of that apartment since that day. No one has even seen her since. “

  “Really,” Vic would respond with a nod or shrug.

  “In fact, I’ve been her milkman all that time and I’ve never seen her. She leaves an envelope stuffed in a milk bottle with my money every week,” Abe answered, shaking his head.

  Laughing one day, he winked at Vic, “This next stop may take a little while. I gotta collect the bill from Mrs. Fink. You just take care of the customers in the rest of the building and wait for me.” A half-hour later, Abe returned to the truck with a grin.

  “Everything okay?” asked Vic.

  “Well, let’s just say I collected,” Abe said, winking and pulling the truck away.

  Many of the stories were nothing more than juicy gossip not really fit for a twelve year-old, about divorcees or married men who had girlfriends. But Vic got a real kick out of knowing all the neighborhood secrets. He knew Ma would be mad if she found out that Abe was filling his head with such trash. Pa, on the other hand, would probably laugh, figuring it was just man-talk on the job. Vic took it all in and egged Abe on.

  When school started that fall, he got a job after school in a grocery store on Lawrence near Central Park, doing stock work and making deliveries, and a few months later, a friend of Pa’s recommended Vic for a stock boy and salesman’s job at Joe Freidman’s menswear store at the Six Corners shopping district on Milwaukee Avenue near Irving Park and Cicero.

  The summer before high school started, Vic was still working at Freidman’s clothing store and in his free time, played a lot of sports. He had also begun sneaking into to see Mitzi Rubin, an attractive, young married woman whose Army husband was serving in the war. He liked her better than most of the girls his age but was confused about their exciting relationship and frightened that someone would find out.

  Shirley, meanwhile, had been going on dates with older boys, and Vic had heard that her most recent flame was old enough to drive a car. So he was taken aback one afternoon when he ran into her on the sidewalk on his way to meet Al Gordon at Lou’s for a game of pool and she invited him to a beach party that Saturday night.

  The party took place on a warm July evening and Foster beach was crowded with people of all ages trying to get relief from the heat. On the sand close to the lake, small kids were splashing in water up to their knees or making castles in the sand. Sprinkled between the blankets, were baby buggies with little ones sleeping or sucking on bottles. Older folks sat in folding chairs on the rocks that formed the breakfront to the rambling Lake Michigan shore. Their picnic baskets stood open as sandwiches and soda pops were dispensed to waiting hands. A short, bald man with a dark sunburned complexion and shaggy white beard sat on an upside-down bucket with a fishing pole over the water. Alongside him was a line into the water with a string of fish he had caught.

  The grassy area beyond and around the sand and rocks was where the older kids and couples went to relax and enjoy the lake breeze. Softballs and footballs were being tossed in the air and a few fires blazed amid the blankets and lawn chairs occupying almost every foot of space. The mix of music and jumbled conversations of the thousands of people enjoying a leisurely warm Chicago lakefront evening was a like a symphony of contentment.

  A shrill whistle from one of the boys caught their attention as Shirley and Vic headed for their group. Vic set the picnic basket down.

  Sipping on a Coke, he sat with his arms linked around his knees on the blanket he had helped Shirley spread and watched the girls as they arranged the food and drinks near the fire that was starting to glow. He hardly recognized some of them. It seemed like only yesterday when they had pigtails and were wearing short plaid skirts. Now, most looked like women, especially the ones who were smoking. Shirley looked especially good. It surprised him when she slipped out of her loose-fitting over blouse and removed her shorts to reveal a clinging black bathing suit. Watching every move as she folded her clothes and carefully placed them near her bag, he felt an exciting surge within. He knew she was deliberately moving slowly as he watched and was enjoying the sexy show she was putting on, especially when she bent low to remove her white moccasins. He also saw the look she gave him as she turned her head up, as if taunting him with her eyes and sly smile to come grab her. He remembered the sensation he’d had when she touched him lightly earlier in the evening as she straightened his collar and then brushed his hair away from his face. His eyes stayed glued to her as he took in t
he curve of her tempting tush and the small but very obvious breasts that he longed to touch. She wasn’t as pretty as some of the girls, but there was something about her that made not only him, but some of the guys, remark about how they would like to get in her pants. The comments, he knew, were just guys talking, but they didn’t talk about other girls the same way.

  Jim called him to go swimming and he stripped down to his suit, looking at Shirley for her okay.

  “Go ahead, I’ll get us set here,” she said, waving him to go.

  He took off, joining Jim, Sam and some other guys, diving off the rocks into the lake. Twenty minutes later, they came back and started throwing around a football. It wasn’t long before the girls called them to stoke the fire so they could eat as the sun disappeared. Shirley brought out some long wire forks for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. She passed them around to the sounds of sultry music coming from Fern Schwartz’s portable radio. From the baskets, potato chips, cokes, cookies and candy started to appear.

  When “Embraceable You” started playing, Fern turned up the volume and she and Sam started dancing. Shirley pulled Vic up and they, along with several others, joined in, slow dancing in the grass.

  As the night wore on, the crowds at the lakefront began thinning; allowing more room. The couples also started separating their blankets from the others a bit. The fire was slowly dying, creating a few sparks and crackling noise, mingling with the low droning sounds of the crowds all around them. As the batteries in Fern’s radio wore down a distant radio could be heard playing, “That old black magic has me in its spell”.

  Feeling the soft summer quilt and the bumps of the uneven grass underneath, Shirley and Vic lay on their backs looking up at the stars. He casually put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close so he could kiss her. Her arms hugged him close and her lips opened to welcome him. They clung to each other, Vic rubbing his hips with the hardness of excitement against her, careful not to touch her with his hands in a way that would frighten her. She pushed back, electrifying him with her sighs.