Albany Park

by Myles (Mickey) Golde

  He just shrugged, saying, “I guess I forgot.”

  She smiled, knowing how he loved basketball and thought it was strange that he was so quiet, but put it out of her mind until later when she mentioned it to Pa.

  He told her it was nothing. That it was just her imagination. “He probably had something else on his mind. You know he’s not a little kid anymore,” he reminded her and went on reading the paper.

  After the movie, they went for ice cream at Rudich’s on Central Park and Lawrence. It was a typical Friday after the show let out. A couple of hundred kids, mostly from Von Steuben and Roosevelt, gathered at the lively corner. The boys with their bright colored club jackets and the girls, many wearing their boyfriend’s jackets or the newest style sweaters, were competing for attention and flirting. Loud voices mixed with squeals of laughter and street noise hung in the air.

  A police car with lights flashing came cruising down Lawrence to disperse the crowd overflowing into the street. Knowing the routine, kids snickered as they moved to the side or further down the block. Within moments, they returned to the corner to wait for the next pass by the cops.

  A few couples, a little removed from the brightly lit corner down Central Park, were locked in feverish embraces and kissing. Onlookers at the fringe shouted comments.

  “Hey Joey, what’s that big bulge in your pants,” a boy yelled, followed by loud male laughter and girl’s eye-rolling.

  A scuffle broke out when one of the guys in a blue and white Eagles jacket walked up to a girl standing with a boy in a black and silver Lucky Guys jacket and asked, “Wouldn’t you like a real man, honey?”

  The response was a quick punch, which was deflected, followed by a shove. A flurry of boys in blue and white jackets mixed with black and silver ones pulled the two apart and things returned to normal.

  Some guys were loudly trying to be cute with girls. The girls, on the receiving end of the remarks, smiled or turned away, often shouting, “Shut up, you moron,” if the comment was out of line. The quieter ones just giggled.

  As tables opened up inside, kids filed in to place orders for sodas and sundaes. Usually Shirley and Vic sat with one or two other couples, but tonight, they were alone and barely spoke.

  He looked around at kids laughing and having a good time. Lips drawn tightly, he shook his head, upset that they all were so happy. Shirley, in the meantime, was gabbing with one of the girls in the next booth and didn’t seem to notice how quiet he had been all evening. He looked at her as she laughed and made animated gestures, waving to friends, while all he could think of was that life as he knew it was over. The world was closing in on them and he couldn’t understand how she could behave so normally.

  Laughing, Shirley turned to Vic, smiling as she did.

  “How’s your team doing in the tournament?”

  He didn’t answer; looking across the table he shook his head and sighed. He didn’t feel like talking with all these people around. His usual confident manner had deserted him. Instead he sat quietly, ignoring the good-natured fun and excitement.

  Shirley bubbled, tilting her head, trying to get him to smile , “What you gonna get?”

  “Nothin’,” he snarled abruptly. Getting up and starting for the door, “let’s go,” he said over his shoulder. “This place is getting on my nerves.” She quickly followed.

  Frankie’s pre-war Ford had been their perfect place for being alone. But pulling away from Rudich’s tonight, it seemed to Vic more like a jail on wheels. He dreaded being alone with her. He had to talk to her and once he did, there was no turning back. The next hour would set the course of his life from this day forward. It frightened him more than anything he had ever encountered. Still, he knew he had to take responsibility for his actions.

  They drove silently down Foster to California and turned north for two blocks, then east into the dimly lit lover’s lane. At this late hour, only a few widely spaced apartment buildings with dim lights could be seen in any direction. The only streets up this way that had survived the Depression were those that had been paved and had lamp posts installed along the curbs in the early 1930s. The rest of the land past Foster was barren and deserted except for a few cars parked randomly at least fifty yards apart in between eerie looking street lights.

  He parked about a hundred yards away from a narrow three flat, turning off the car and looking straight ahead. Shirley sighed, finally leaning over to kiss him. He didn’t move.

  She turned on the tears. “Please,” she sobbed, “I know how you hurt, but I don’t know what to do.”

  He stared ahead. After what he felt was a lifetime, he spoke. “Shirley, I want you to know how sorry I am. I wish we could go back to a month ago, before this mess. I know that’s not possible.”

  Head down, she cried harder.

  Pausing to take a few deep breaths, he continued, “I feel like I’m a hundred years old. My whole life is changed and I’m scared to death.”

  “I know I’m not ready for this and I’m sure you feel the same. But it’s here and we have to move ahead,” he said pausing, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to work up the courage to force the words he wished he didn’t have to say.

  She grabbed his hand but he pulled away. Waiting a moment, considering his words carefully, he took a deep breath, “We’re going to have to tell our folks, but I think we better get married first.”

  A shriek escaped her lips as she started to say something. He stopped her, putting up a hand in her direction.

  ”We have to run away to Crown Point. I understand that they have a Justice of the Peace that will marry anyone right on the spot, even in the middle of the night.”

  He saw her eyes sparkle through tears..

  “Look, I know I can pass for eighteen and I think a girl only has to be sixteen in Indiana.”

  “Oh Victor, “she said, sliding over to him. He flinched.

  “Once we’re married and our parents know you’re gonna have a baby it’ll be okay,” he sighed. “They’re gonna hate us for doing this to them, but they’ll realize it was the right thing to do. If they disown us, that’s a chance we have to take. I’ll quit school and get a better job. Please, stop crying now.”

  Shirley shifted in her seat, moving her legs under her. Leaning back on her knees, she turned to face him. “Oh Victor, I love you so much. Don’t worry I’ll make you happy,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him close.” This time, he didn’t pull away, but kissed her fiercely.

  After being locked in each other’s arms for several minutes, Vic reached inside her sweater and began to fondle and comfort her. Her crying slowed as her breath started to come in short spurts. Reaching for his crotch, she began undoing the buttons. Pulling away, she leaned down to take him in her mouth. He felt some of the stress go out of him as she continued to arouse him and he motioned her to take off her panties and straddle him as he moved to be under her. Caressing her before entering, he could feel her juices flowing.

  Slowly, she lowered herself onto him and began rocking as she moaned softly. The passion grew and he lifted her to avoid exploding in her. Gasping, he erupted soiling the seat, remembering too late that he could have stayed inside her; the damage was already done. They both fell back as the tension went out of them. Vic reached under the front seat for the box of Kleenex Frank kept there and handed a tissue to her as she rolled back and he slid away to make room for her. He opened his eyes and watched her as he crumpled the soiled tissue. Instantly, he stopped, noticing the bright red color of blood as he wiped his hand.

  “Shirley, what is this?”

  She looked up, a frightened grimace crossing her face. “Oh Victor, I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. I started to spot earlier today and was scared of what you would do if you knew,” she cried.

  “What
, have you lost your mind?” he yelled. “I’ve been dying, worrying about you and me.”

  She backed away trying to control her breathing, her lips drawn down.

  “Weren’t you going to tell me? What are you? Fuckin’ crazy? This is not something you hide from someone. Especially someone you say you love.”

  “Please Victor,” she whimpered, “I was going to tell you.”

  “Yeah, when? Look I don’t understand you, nor do I believe you.

  He started to sputter. “You’ve been lying all along, haven’t you?”

  “No, no,” she said.

  Glaring, he took a deep breath. “You rotten bitch,” he said softly, his jaw clenching. “How could you? Shirley, you say you love me, but could do this to me. You don’t love me.”

  “I do, I do. You know I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His breath came in short starts and his eyes narrowed into small slits. In a deliberately louder voice, he said, “You have done the worst thing that anyone has ever done to me. You have no idea how you hurt me.”

  She reached for his arm. He shook her off.

  “For God’s sake we’re only kids, I thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. We needed more experience. I was afraid something bad would happen because we weren’t as careful as we shoulda’ been. It was time for us to take a breather. One of us had to be responsible. I told you that the day we broke up. You didn’t listen. All you kept saying is that you loved me. I know you love me and you know what, I love you, but I’m too young for this. And damn it, Shirley, you’ve ruined any feeling of love.”

  “Victor, please don’t do this. I need you. No one will ever love you the way I do,” she pleaded through her tears.

  “I will never trust you,” Vic said, putting the Ford in gear and beginning to drive slowly. Shirley cowered in the seat next to the door and when she put her hand on his shoulder, he pushed her away.

  “I never want to speak to you again,” he said, pushing down on the accelerator.

  When they reached her building, he parked and quickly walked around the car. “Get out,” he said, opening the door, “and leave my jacket.”

  She looked up at him, then cast her eyes down, “I’m sorry,” she begged. “Please give me another chance.”

  Reaching in, he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out, grabbing at the jacket as it slipped to the ground.

  She moved slowly toward the building, hesitated and turned back, but he just gathered up his jacket and got back in the car. When she entered the hallway, he drove off.

  He wondered why he didn’t feel better. Maybe he did love her. The shadows of the night surrounded him; while the sound of passing cars and the trees swaying above barely intruded on his mood. The heavy weight that had been on his chest had been lifted. Feeling a chill, he wrapped the brightly colored club jacket around him, hugging it close as he drove aimlessly around the neighborhood, sorting out his thoughts.

  It was an hour before he finally made it home. The apartment was dark as he laid down on the studio couch, fully clothed, stared at the ceiling and finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

  A week later at the YMCA on Irving Park, Eugene Field Park defeated Rogers Park and won the City Championship basketball tournament for boys fourteen and under. Victor Wayne starred in the game scoring eighteen points.

  Chapter 9

  Three years later, on an unusually warm Tuesday in mid February, Vic on his way home from work decided to stop at Rudich’s ice cream parlor to see if anyone was around. The street and sidewalk were wet with melting snow piles left by the plows a few days earlier. His jacket unzipped and enjoying the break in the weather he started toward Central Park.

  At Monticello, old man Korb, in a bulky knit sweater covered by a soiled white apron, was standing outside his delicatessen under the street light, smoking a cigarette. Vic waved; the old man grunted.

  At Kaplan’s Bakery, he caught the rich aroma of baking sweets and further down, at Levinson’s Grocery, he was surprised the lights were still on. The store was closed, but there was Mr. Levinson, restocking a shelf. Vic knocked on the window and waved. The grisly gray haired old man looked up and waved, mouthing hello. Passing the shoemaker shop, he grinned, visualizing Gianni, pounding on a heel or burnishing a sole, and always having a lively comment about the weather or a joke which was impossible to understand because of his heavy Italian accent, and mumbling with nails in his mouth. The fish store was dark. The owner with his wife at his side, were arguing as he fumbled with the keys to lock up and she nagged him to hurry. Vic nodded to them, continuing on his way. Walking a bit slower, he caught the upbeat show tunes blasting out of the loudspeakers above the entrance of the fruit store and smiled, thinking since I’ve lived around her all my life, I guess I’m part of the flavor of the street too.

  Stopping for a moment, he admired a large display of oranges and grapefruit piled high in crates blocking half the sidewalk. Bright flood lights over the fruit displayed in colorful arrangements in the large plate glass windows facing the street, made him think back to how bleak it had been four years earlier when the war was still on.

  Humming Frankie Laine’s, “Ghost Riders in the Sky” as the lively music faded behind him, he continued walking; barely noticing the sounds of autos, street cars or loud and soft voices. Stepping aside, he almost bumped into the red and white striped barber pole in front of Sol’s to let an old woman pass. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, wearing a heavy coat with a dark babushka wrapped tightly on her head as she trudged along, pulling a rickety shopping cart. It brought back a memory of his brother’s comment, when he came back from the war. They had been walking in the same area when Frank suddenly stopped, touched Vic’s arm as he turned to look around saying, “I pictured this a thousand times when I was overseas. The people who lived here, the street and everything around here; it was like an extension of our family,” he’d said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  As Vic approached Rudich’s, the group on the corner was overflowing into the street.

  “Hey, Vic,” said Ronnie Weiner, standing with his arm around Enid Goldman, a small, dark-haired girl with large breasts who had been Vic’s classmate since grade school. She chimed in, “What happened Vic, no girlfriend tonight?”

  He shook hands with Ronnie and laughed, thrusting his hands upward. “I guess I’m just outa luck,Enid; you were already taken.”

  Shading his eyes with his hand, he looked inside and didn’t spot any of his friends, but did see a very pretty girl with dark red hair that he had met at Montrose Beach the previous summer. He quickly remembered how her cute behind and perfectly shaped legs filled out her deep purple, two-piece bathing suit. He recalled being interested at the time. Across from her was an attractive, dark-haired girl he didn’t recognize.

  Entering, he casually walked toward their table. The redhead smiled as he approached, catching her eye. “Hi,” she said,” you remember me, don’t you? Darlene Silverman, we met at the beach. This is my friend, Thelma Stone. Meet Victor Wayne.”

  Grateful she mentioned her name, Vic smiled and started to say hello, when she interrupted. “C’mon, sit down,” she said, moving to make room. She looked even prettier than when he’d met her. Her shoulder length auburn hair framed a face with high cheekbones, a small straight nose and very dark brown eyes. Suddenly feeling shy, he hesitated.

  “What are you doing here?” he managed to stutter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before and one thing I do remember is all the cute girls that come to Rudich’s.”

  Sitting next to her, he turned and caught a glimpse of her smile, which brightened as his gaze lingered. “By the way, thanks,” he whispered. “I liked the way you introduced yourself, I knew we met, but couldn’t remember your name.”

  She responded with a soft giggle. “Tonight we h
ad a club meeting down the street with all of our girlfriends from Roosevelt and Thelma and I figured we could find a ride home from here.”

  One of the Rudich brothers interrupted, delivering the girl’s sundaes, saying “hi ladies, enjoy and what can I get you Vic?” He followed with a flourish of large napkin and expertly folding it over his arm.

  “How bout a scoop of chocolate Morrie?”

  “Coming up, pal,” he replied with an exaggerated bow.

  Thelma spoke touching Vic’s arm, trying to get him to look at her “How about you? Can you give us a ride to Division Street? It won’t take long.”

  Vic laughed, turning to Thelma. “What happened to ‘how are you?” and ‘what’s new? I just sat down and you’re already hitting me up for a ride home.”

  Darlene grinned. “Don’t mind her. We’ll just hop a bus, it’s not so far.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” he answered, looking back to her. “I live around the corner and if you walk me home, I think I can use my brother Frankie’s car to drive you.” Both girls smiled and quickly agreed.

  Focusing on Darlene, he smiled, “Now, tell me more about you.”

  “Oh, look, he’s got dimples,” Thelma laughed.

  Darlene turned to see and smiled. Vic blushed.

  The conversation quickly turned to Jewish Geography. A sort of, who do you know that I know, and before long they were talking like old friends.

  “Didn’t you used to go out with Selma Fields?” Thelma wanted to know.

  “No, I know her though, she’s an old friend,” he answered turning back to Darlene. Her lips curved upward at the corners as she listened to him field Thelma’s questions about other girls, but he kept turning the conversation back to Darlene.

  She had been a year ahead in school, and after graduating from Roosevelt at the end of January, had gotten a job working as a secretary to the senior fundraiser for the United Fund in their downtown office. Vic leaned in closer and nodded, impressed that she seemed to be involved with so many companies and related charitable organizations after being there only a few weeks.