Not a word passed between them for many minutes until Shirley whispered, “I love you, Victor Wayne. Since the day I met you, I’ve loved you.”
With a crooked smile, Vic looked at her and said, “I always thought you had great taste in men.”
Her laugh and soft playful slap across his cheek made him grin and snuggle her closer. “You know what? I think I love you, too.”
“Oh Victor, you said it!” She smiled. “I knew it, but wanted to hear it from you so much. Say it again…please.”
“C’mon Shirley, don’t make it so hard for me. You know how I feel. It’s just hard to say it.”
Walking from the beach down Foster on the way to the bus, he took her hand and laced his fingers into hers. At Broadway they waited for the bus away from the folks waiting on the corner. It was darker there and easier to enjoy a few more kisses.
The light turned red and traffic stopped. A baby faced man in an Army uniform, with a short crew cut and a cigarette dangling from his lips pulled up in a white Buick convertible with the top down. Alongside him was a chunky blonde who waved at Vic and Shirley, “Where you kids going?” she squealed. “Want a ride?”
With a quick look and a smile between them, Vic answered, “We’re going as far as Central Park.”
The blonde pulled the seat forward and the soldier chuckled, “Hop in.”
The blonde turned around as Shirley and Vic settled into the luxurious back seat. “How do you like our car? Johnny got it only a year before he was drafted and it’s been in a garage ever since. When he came in on furlough a week ago, we got married. As a wedding present to ourselves, we decided to go out for a spin before he heads back in two days to go overseas.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful and congratulations!” Shirley gushed as Vic smiled, checking out the handsome car.
The light changed and the four young lovers raced away down Foster Avenue.
Along the way, the two couples waved and shouted hello to the people walking along the darkened street. Stopped for the light at Ravenswood, a white-haired woman standing with her husband waved and blew them a kiss, yelling, “Good luck!”
The soldier pointed as they passed North Park College and said, “I’m gonna go to school there when I return,” the blonde snuggled closer and smiled.
Reaching Central Park, the older couple insisted on dropping them off at Shirley’s building; telling them they could show off for the nosy neighbors. Shirley laughed and whispered to Vic that someone would surely tell her mother about the white convertible with red leather seats that pulled up in front of building after midnight and dropped off her and her boyfriend.
Stopping in front of the building, the blonde hugged Shirley as she got out. Driving off with a wave and a laugh from her and her soldier husband, she wished the two kids good luck. Looking at Shirley as they pulled away, she winked yelling, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, honey,” and gave out a loud screech.
With big smiles and sparkling eyes, Shirley and Vic entered the dimly lit vestibule and immediately fell into each other’s arms. There had never been a night like this in either of their young lives.
As the weeks passed they often looked for an opportunity to be alone, and would let their pent up emotions take over. With her older sister Doris away at college in Champaign, she was alone many Saturday nights when her folks went to the movies. Vic welcomed the chance to come over to be with her. He also walked her home quite often so they could kiss and tease in the vestibule. It started with a casual caress of Shirley’s breasts and then a touch of her thighs and a gentle touch between her legs. She shyly resisted but then began allowing him to feel her and rubbed his throbbing erection or teased him by sticking her tongue in his ear. One night, after they’d decided to go steady and he’d given her his Aztec’s jacket to wear, he reached under her bra and panties to play with her and she responded by unbuttoning his pants and rubbing him until he exploded in her hand.
On a rainy evening after the Jewish Holidays in late September, Shirley’s folks were at the movies. She and Vic were alone in the house. She had on only a white bra with a short skirt and panties. He was shirtless on top of her, as they lay tangled on the couch.
She nibbled softly on his ear.
“C’mon, Shirl,” he whispered, “let’s do it. I’ll be careful.”
“No, please, Victor, I can’t,” she said, pushing him away.
He kissed her and caressed her neck and ears.
“You like that, don’t you?” he teased.
“You’re driving me crazy and you know it,” she murmured.
“I want you,” he breathed.
“No,” she whispered, “I can’t go all the way.”
Turning, she moved away and curled up on the couch, pulling her sweater off the floor to cover herself.
Vic sat up quietly, slipping on his undershirt.
After what seemed like a long time, she got up, wrapping her sweater around her and shyly said, “Don’t go away” as she slipped into the bedroom. Returning a few minutes later wrapped in a towel, she raised her hand and beckoned with her finger. Picking up the rest of their clothes and shoes, he followed. The bedroom was dark but he could see her on the bed as she motioned him to her side. Holding up something white she said, “I got this the other day when the girls were at Didi’s house and she showed us where her father kept them. Later, I snuck in and got one”.
Not believing what he thought he saw, Vic held out his hand.
Whispering, she said, “Do you know to use it? I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
“I love you so much, please be gentle”, she whispered.
Slipping in next to her, he softly touched her shoulder and she turned on her side away from him. Tenderly, he caressed her back before rolling her to face him. Without a word he placed soft kisses on her nose, eyes, ears and lips. Her arms pulled him closer and she opened her mouth. A purring sound came from her as she relaxed and he rolled on top of her. He entered her as gently as he could. Their passion was quick and the two of them clung to each other for a few moments until they rolled to the side kissed and caressed lovingly as they basked in their newfound bliss.
Vic stopped sneaking into Mitzi Rubin’s apartment after that night.
Chapter 7
Entering the Wayne’s apartment after the slow walk from Shirley’s, Vic found his folks in the living room. Ma, in her usual apron, was mending a hole in a sock and Pa, his shirt open at the collar, was listening to the radio in his easy chair with the frayed arms. The room was dark except for the floor lamp next to the discolored burgundy couch where Ma was sitting with her sewing box in her lap. A gold-colored shawl on the couch hid most of the wear and tear of the five kids who had lounged, sat and jumped on it over the years. Only the old baby grand piano in the front of the room near the windows still looked good in the dim light. On closer inspection, it too had some nicks and scratches.
Looking over her bifocals, Ma asked, “You’re a little late, did you eat?”
“No, I’m not hungry. Don’t worry about me Ma.”
Pa looked up at Ma and chuckled, “You always worry. Can’t you see he’s a big boy? He knows how to take care of himself.”
Turning to Vic he added, “What’s with your foot?”
“Aw, nothing, we had a game today and I twisted my ankle. We won, though.”
Ma, sighed, starting to say something. Pa waved her off, whispering, “He’s okay; don’t baby him.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you,” she answered.
As Vic retreated down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, Ma raised her voice. “Just in case, there’s some hamburgers left from dinner in the icebox.”
He pulled the refrigerator door open and looked in. It was more a habit than a desire to eat. Sometime
s he would just close the door after peering inside, or if something looked particularly good, grab it for a quick snack. All the Waynes did it and used to laugh about this family trait. Tonight, though, he just wasn’t hungry.
In the dining room, he laid down on the old studio couch they had gotten from Ma’s sister when she got a new one. He and Frank opened it up and slept on it every night. Clasping his hands behind his head, he leaned back and tried to clear his mind.
The familiar lumpy couch in the cluttered room did little to comfort him. Looking at shadows on the light green walls that he and Frank had painted two weeks before, his eyes moved to the cracked ceiling as he listened to the soft sounds of the street coming in through an open window and wondered about Ma and Pa and how they would react when he had to tell them about Shirley. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of how difficult it would be to burden them with this kind of aggravation. They had been through so much already.
Pa was such a bright guy. Even though he’d only completed eighth grade, he always tried to find time to educate himself. He had taken a few adult classes when he was younger, hoping to prepare for college. Of course he never got there, but he always liked to learn new things. Now, Vic thought, he works his ass off and still has very little to show for it, except for Ma and us kids.
Vic knew from stories he had heard that it wasn’t always like this for Pa. During the twenties, when his name was still Weinstein, he’d had a small but thriving bootlegging business. He even was able to buy a two flat on Ridgeway Avenue close to the Eugene Field Park in the then, new neighborhood of Albany Park; a step up from the Humboldt Park neighborhood where he and Ma had grown up. Ma and he lived on the first floor and with some help from Pa, his folks and younger brothers moved in upstairs. It was quite an accomplishment for an ambitious young guy, like Pa.
The Depression and the repeal of Prohibition really screwed things up for him. His liquor business went down the tubes and his new career selling insurance failed because people weren’t spending on anything. At thirty, he was broke. One morning he refused to get out of bed and would not speak to Ma or the kids. A month later he still was in bed, not having ventured out of the room in all that time other than to use the bathroom. A doctor came to visit, but when Pa refused to answer his questions, he told Ma that unless Pa got control of himself, they would have to commit him to a state hospital.
That afternoon, Ma sat for a long time reading the Bible. It was something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl, but she wanted some hope that her life with Pa was not over. Finally, she put the book down and went to sit quietly in the bedroom next to him. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she took his hand in hers and began talking to him in a soft voice.
“I love you; the kids and I need you,” she said pausing to see if he heard her.
“Who’s gonna take care of us?” she said, closing her eyes.
“I’m not afraid of being broke, but I am afraid of raising our family without you.”
Pa did not stir.
“I know as long as I have you and the kids, we somehow will make it,” she said.
More silence. But she felt his hand grip hers.
Keeping her voice low, she began reciting the 23rd Psalm.
“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,” finishing in a whisper, “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” and sitting quietly; her hands in her lap.
At five-thirty, she got up, kissed him and went to prepare dinner. The next morning, Pa got up bathed, shaved, put on his five-year-old grey sharkskin suit, and went out to work, determined to sell some insurance. He remained shaky for about a year, but managed to stay afloat, selling a few policies and doing odd jobs in the ward for the Alderman, who had been Pa’s customer in his bootlegging days. When things got tight at the end of a month, he’d borrow a few bucks from his sister or brothers, but he always made sure he paid each one back, even if it was with money he borrowed from one of the others.
People liked Pa and wanted to see him make it and when he decided to open a small dry cleaning store, his and Ma’s friends quickly became customers. When the bank foreclosed on the two flat and they couldn’t pay the rent, the family was forced to move from Ridgeway to a smaller apartment on Springfield a few blocks away but Ma wouldn’t let Pa get discouraged. The addition of two more kids, Faith and Lilly, in the next five years didn’t help, but somehow they managed to survive.
When the War started in 1941, the economy improved and making money became a little easier. There was always a hem to make, a pair of pants to be cuffed, or a skirt to be taken in at the waist. But Pa wanted more out of life than sitting at sewing machine and working behind a counter.
The next year, he got a job selling tools, representing a company from Indianapolis whose Chicago salesman had been drafted. It wasn’t a great job or a lot of money, but it had potential. With all the shortages due to the war effort, he was able to sell just about anything the company could produce. By the end of the war, the family could see some light. Pa had regained his sense of humor; telling stories, making up and singing songs or writing poems for Ma and the kids. And when they were happy, he was happy.
Ma, of course, was Ma. The beautiful dark haired lady with her high cheekbones, straight nose and light blue eyes that sparkled when she flashed a smile, remained as always, strong and courageous. She believed in God and her family. For her, for better or worse were not just words. No matter how bleak the circumstances, she wouldn’t give up. Her husband and kids were the best and she believed in them. She never talked about Pa’s illness. He was the one who told the kids how she got him to get out of bed to go to work that cold day in 1933.
Vic smiled as he remembered how she never asked Pa or any of the kids for anything. Everyone in the family just sort of knew what she expected and wanted to please her.
He also remembered how, a few months before, she had found him one evening lying very quietly on the studio couch in the dining room.
Putting her hand on his back, she rubbed his shoulder.
“What’s the matter?”
He pulled away, trying to hide a sob, and spoke into the couch.
“Coach Whitman asked me to go out for the basketball team and I don’t know what to do.”
Sitting quietly, she used one hand to massage his back.
“I want to be on that team more than anything I ever wanted in my life,” he said. “I know I’m a better player than some of the guys on the team and for sure I’m one of the better freshmen players, but how can I give up my job? I need the money.”
He buried his head in the couch. She stopped rubbing but kept her hand on his shoulder.
Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek, whispering, “Whatever you decide, we’ll be there for you and somehow things will work out. You won’t do the wrong thing. Your father and I believe in you, Victor. You are a good boy who has never disappointed us. You always made us proud and I’m sure always will.”
Turning his head, he saw her wipe away a tear and he immediately felt guilty that he had caused her to cry.
Ma patted his cheek, saying, “Why don’t you try it? If you miss the money, there are plenty of places you can get yourself another job. I’m not afraid. Things are better for everyone now than they were ten years ago”.
The next day, after his first practice with the team, Vic stopped Coach Whitman, a tall broad shouldered teacher with thinning grey hair who had been an “All City basketball player” as a kid. He was collecting basketballs and stacking them on the rack near the locker room.
“What’s up, Wayne? You looked good out there.”
“You know, Coach, I really love basketball, but I gotta problem.”
The coach fumbled with a ball and turned away from the rack, “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve got a job after school, and I really need the money. My fol
ks can’t give me any, so I have to ask you a question.”
“What is it, son?” Whitman asked, moving closer.
“Well, do you think I’m good enough to ever be first string on this team? You see, if all I can do is sit on the bench and only play once in awhile, I’m gonna be disappointed; but if I’m really good and play a lot, somehow I’ll make it work. I’ll either find another job or maybe miss a few practices and still be able to play,” Vic said.
The coach rubbed his jaw. Hesitating, as if choosing his words carefully, he answered.
“Wayne, first of all, you’re only a freshman and I don’t know how good a player you’ll be in a year or two. You are one of the better freshmen and probably will improve, but in all honesty, I don’t think you’ll be a top player. I want you on this team because I can see you are a leader and teams need leaders, even on the bench.”
Vic looked at him and started to say something, but the coach put up his hand to stop him.
“Victor,” he went on, “telling me what you just did only proves to me I’m right. You are a young man of character and I want to have you, but you have to make up your own mind. Keep in mind, though, I can’t cut you any slack. You will have to show up for every practice and play your heart out. Think it over. Whatever you decide is good with me. If it doesn’t work out now, maybe things will be better next year.”
Vic knew the coach was being a nice guy when he talked about next year, and he appreciated the way he handled it.
That night he agonized over his dilemma before deciding that basketball was great, but he could live without being on the team and he could still play in the Park District League on his days off. Sometimes, he reasoned, family comes first; and just knowing he was good enough to play was enough. It was a tough decision, but helping the family was more important. He had started giving Ma a little for groceries every week and it felt good to know that she and Pa were proud of him.
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