The bartender called out for their order and Howie answered, getting a bourbon and ginger ale for himself and a Coke for her.
“Okay, now start from the beginning. What’s goin’ on?”
She looked down fishing a cigarette from her purse. Silently taking her time, she lit it and exhaled slowly, deliberating over her answer.
Moving a hand from her face, she hesitated, sucking on her lower lip, “I think I may be pregnant,” she sighed, brushing a tissue across her eyes.
Immediately his hand went to his mouth.
“I don’t know how this could have happened. I thought we were always careful, but when I realized I hadn’t had my period for a while, I thought maybe it was because I was so worked up about leaving you and being away from home. Then, the last few days, I’ve been nauseated and throwing up in the morning.”
The bartender, puffing a cigarette, shuffled over carrying their drinks on a round metal tray. “That’ll be $2.25,” he said, placing white cardboard coasters in front of them.
Howie keeping his eyes on Shirley, reached into his pocket and slowly handed the man three dollars. “Keep it,” he said, waving him off.
He gripped her out stretched hand tightly.
“Anyway, I tried to remember my last period and I don’t think I’ve had it in over two months. Howie, I have to make sure and I didn’t know what to do, that’s when I called you.”
The muscles of his face tightened. Sucking in his lips to form a straight line and shaking his head ever so slowly, he responded, “So what do you want me to do?”
Taking his hand in both of hers, she leaned forward, saying in a soft, anguished whisper, “Help me Howie; please help me.”
His jaw stayed firm as she lifted her head, waiting for him to say something.
“So now you need me,” he sneered. “A few weeks ago, you had to be a Mommy and Daddy’s good little girl and go downstate.”
“Goddammit Howie.” She spat out venomously, “Now that I’m scared out of my mind, you want to kick me around and make me beg.”
He remained silent, looking as if trying to make up his mind to leave or help her. She fixed her gaze on him, slowly relaxing her tight angry expression to one of resigned fear. With the back of one hand she wiped at her eye, messing the make-up where tears had formed.
“Okay,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. “Let’s get outta here.”
Twenty minutes later, they checked into a motel on the highway at the edge of town. She waited in the car with her arms wrapped around her middle, looking at the small whitewashed cabins with straggly curtains and an array of broken entry lights. Two pickup trucks and three old jalopies appeared to be the only other customers. Rubbing her arms, she shivered thinking about the trashy people that had been sleeping in the rundown place.
Howie came back with the key, promising to take her back to Chicago in the morning. Once there, she planned to see her family doctor, who she knew she could trust, before doing anything else.
Entering the sparsely furnished room, he slowly pulled down the frayed shade and proceeded to remove his shirt. She stood by the door with her arms folded under her chest.
“C’mon, Baby,” he chided, trying to take her hand while unbuttoning her cotton sweater. “It’s been a long time and I wanta see if you really missed me.”
She tried a weak smile, allowing him to remove her sweater and blouse while maneuvering her toward the washed out, chenille-covered bed. With her help, he removed the rest of her clothing and pulled back the spread. He was on top of her immediately, shedding his clothes and roughly entering her. She laid back, gritting her teeth.
“Aah, that felt good,” he sighed, rolling back, reaching to light a cigarette. “Here,” he offered, passing it to her. She shook her head and looked away.
Leaning back, he exhaled, saying, “Let’s go to Crown Point and get married before going to Chicago. We might as well because you know we’re gonna get married now.”
“I know,” she pleaded, “but please, I can’t make up my mind so quick. I want to know before I do anything. Please, don’t make me promise now.”
“That’s just a lotta’ bullshit,” he replied angrily.
They continued arguing in harsh whispers for several minutes, until he drifted off. Getting up, she gathered her clothes and hung them on the rod next to the door. Covering the seat with tissue, she used the bathroom and cleansed herself with a cloth from the rickety washstand, rather than showering in the stained metal stall. Afterward, she sat at the small wooden desk smoking cigarettes for an hour before getting into bed.
In the morning, they awoke early and hastily made love. She took him to the Student Union for coffee, then to pick up some things at her room in the dorm. They left for Chicago a little before nine, arriving at Dr. Jacobs’ office at one.
After conferring with and examining Shirley, the doctor agreed that she was approximately two months pregnant. She took the news quietly, drying her eyes and asking if she could use the bathroom to freshen up.
In the waiting room she took Howie by the hand without saying anything, Once outside, she took his arm and smiled as she reached up to kiss his cheek. “We’re going to have a baby,” she giggled.
Back in the car, they drove back downstate to retrieve her belongings. In the morning she withdrew from school and they returned to Chicago in the late afternoon.
Chapter 13
The marriage took place the first week of October in Rabbi Abram’s study with Doris as the maid of honor. Her husband Jerry was best man. Shirley’s and Howie’s folks were the only other attendees.
The next day, they left for a one week honeymoon at the Sea Isle Hotel in Miami Beach, which was paid for with the generous wedding gifts from the Siegals and the Rabins.
Almost from the beginning, the marriage had problems. When Shirley had asked her father to try to help Howie get a better job, Ben recommended him to a friend for a position at the Chicago Board of Trade. From the first day, Howie resented being a messenger and the abrupt way the men treated him on the noisy fast moving trading floor. Forced to wear a short cotton uniform jacket embarrassed him. To Howie, it was low class to wear any type of work uniform and he fought with his boss, who insisted he wear it. He got fired after two weeks.
Ben’s second effort landed him a job selling insurance. During his two-week training period, he received a salary of fifty dollars per week; thereafter he received a weekly draw of thirty five dollars against his sales commissions.
Shirley, in the meantime, got a job at Marshall Fields in the Ladies Exclusive Wear Department earning a hundred and fifty dollars per month, plus a small commission on her sales. Her plan was to quit after the Christmas season and prepare for the baby.
The insurance business proved harder than Howie expected. Even living very close to the belt and with Shirley’s job at Fields, there wasn’t enough for them to live on.
They started arguing about the time she began to feel the baby stirring inside her. Coming home early one day, she mentioned something about being bloated and needing some maternity clothes now that her regular things were too tight.
Howie was frustrated. “Jesus, all you do is complain. The first thing I hear the minute I come home is you don’t feel good or something else is wrong. And now you want more clothes. Well, this lousy insurance business, don’t pay me enough; so forget it.”
“Stop picking on me Howie,” she whined. “Just because you’re not making much money, don’t take it out on me.”
“Oh, fuck it. I know I can do better. All my friends tell me how sharp I am and I know something will come my way, instead of screwing around in this penny ante insurance business.”
“Why don’t you give it a chance instead of bitching and taking your irritation out on me? I’m sure my Dad wouldn’t have recommended it if he didn’t t
hink it would be good.”
“For cryin’ out loud, give it a rest,” he protested with a shrug. “Just because I say something you don’t like, you get hot and bothered. And I don’t need to be reminded that your Daddy helped me get the job,” he said, retreating into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
In the meantime, he neglected to mention that he had once again started to make a few bucks by booking bets and making loans for Paschey Cohen.
As his frustration with the Insurance business increased, Howie started to spend more time gambling and losing steadily. Paschey had him on the hook for three hundred dollars and Howie responded by escalating his twice-a-week poker game to four times, trying to catch up. Instead he was getting in the hole deeper and deeper.
The small, two-and-a-half-room furnished apartment on Columbia just off Sheridan, that they rented when they got married, was shabby and depressing. Shirley had tried to liven up the appearance of the faded wallpaper, worn grey carpeting and old dark wooden tables and chairs with livelier knickknacks and bright pillows, but it only made her sad as she pondered how it didn’t help much. Dominating the room was a lumpy, uncomfortable, silver and green print couch, but at least it was a place to sit and watch television. Thank God she thought, the TV, a wedding gift from her sister, was new. Shirley hated it all, especially at night when she would sit in the dim light and wait for her new husband. Often, she would prepare dinner, expecting him at six, and he wouldn’t show until after eleven.
Determined to be a good wife, she kept her mouth shut. The week before Thanksgiving however, the landlord called looking for Howie because the rent was two and a half weeks late. When Howie finally walked in at one in the morning, Shirley exploded.
“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. And look at you. You’re a mess, no tie and you look like you slept in that suit,” she sneered.
He answered with a shrug.
“And stinking from booze and cigarettes,” she murmured, her nose crinkling. “And what about the rent, the landlord called. I thought you told me you took care of it two weeks ago.”
His eyes narrowed and his lower jaw jutted out. “Why that son of a bitch, I told him I would take care of it,” he shouted.
Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Where have you been?”
“Look,” he said, “I just ran into a couple of guys I know and we stopped to have a few drinks. It’s nothing to get excited about. Yeah, I shoulda’ called, but you know how things go. I plain forgot. Don’t make such a big deal about it. Anyway, I’m tired and I want to go to, sleep. Big day tomorrow, ya know.”
Brushing past her, he slipped into the bedroom. Controlling herself, Shirley clenched her teeth holding back an urge to scream. A hand to her mouth, she sighed, perhaps she was being too tough on him. She liked to have a good time herself, and he could have forgotten. It seemed innocent enough. The rent though, that was something else. Maybe he did have an excuse, but he didn’t seem to be in much condition to talk tonight. We’ll talk after work tomorrow, when were both in a better mood, she thought.
The next night was Friday, when he was usually home early. Shirley stopped after work at the Chinese restaurant on Sheridan a few doors north of Pratt and picked up Howie’s favorite, Chow mein and Egg Foo Young. She planned to have a nice dinner ready when Howie arrived and then talk about last night. With the baby due in a few months, it was not the time to look for trouble. Calmer than the night before, she reasoned that he was trying his best and just needed a few breaks.
She pulled the dreary dark wooden hinged-top table away from the wall and covered it with a fringed white cloth and napkins. Lastly she set out two place settings with the good dishes and silver that her folks gave them as a wedding gift. The grand setting looked out of place in the small room, but Shirley liked the elegance of it. She remembered seeing her mother do the same thing many times and how it always seemed important. And when Daddy came home and saw how she had prepared, he always gave her a hug along with the usual kiss. She wanted it to be that way with Howie. Even if the apartment was in an old elevator building in Rogers Park, it wouldn’t always be this way. Some-day, they would have a nice three- bedroom apartment; or a home, and then her nice place settings would look more beautiful than ever.
By ten p.m. Howie hadn’t come home or called.. Shirley cleared the table and went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. At two-fifteen, when she heard him come in and turn on the lights, she was ready to tear him apart.
“Look, baby. Look what I got for you,” he cried, bursting into the bedroom, waving a large bundle of cash.
Throwing the money on the bed he laughed while he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. First, he kissed her lightly on the lips, then on each cheek and again very passionately on the lips. “I told you I would take care of things. Didn’t I” he said excitedly. “Don’t worry about Howie. I know how to take care of my baby.”
Lifting her nightgown and roughly climbing on top of her, he shed his clothes and entered her. She started to resist, but then gave in, turning her head away as tears formed. He grunted a few times and rolled back with a loud sigh. Laying back, he started to explain.
“Sorry about tonight, but I just couldn’t pass up this game. I was hot as can be. The cards were coming all night. Baby, you would have been proud of me. I was so cool. These guys were a couple of real mooches. When they finally quit I was ahead over three hundred bucks.”
He had actually won four hundred and sixty dollars, but figured he needed walking around money if he found some other suckers. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
When she sat up and asked him why he hadn’t called, he was quick to say he was sorry and promised he wouldn’t ever do anything like that again. He pleaded with her to forgive him and tried to ease her into believing he was just being a little boy trying to have some fun,
She turned away. Minutes later he was softly snoring. Two hours later, after much twisting and turning, she cried herself to sleep.
Howie quit his job at the insurance company the following week. He immediately went to see Paschey in the back room of the cigar store on Kedzie near the Leland Pool Hall. Entering, he waved to the short bald-headed man behind the counter loaded with Cuban cigars and pushed though a set of swinging doors to the back room. Inside were two round tables under bright lights, filled with poker players. A couple of kibitzers stood behind them. Tucked away in the back, Paschey sat at a small metal desk, reading a newspaper. To his right were two men at phones under a large chalk board filled with names and numbers.
“Hey, insurance man, how goes it,” Paschey grinned, puffing his cigar.
“I just told ‘em to shove the job up their ass,” Howie sighed, flopping in a chair in front of the cluttered desk.
Leaning forward on his elbows, Paschey grinned, “Hey, kid, that was no place for you and you know it. You gotta be where there’s some action.”
“I was just so fed up. You know the only reason I tried it was to get Shirley and her folks off my back. Her old man got me the job and I know he’s gonna be pissed when he finds out I quit.”
Leaning back and taking a long drag on his cigar, Paschey shook his head, without saying anything.
“In fact, I told that fucker, if he tells Shirley’s old man I quit, I’ll kick the shit outta him. I’ll tell him, when I’m ready.”
Loosening his tie and opening his collar, Howie slouched in the chair. “Whadda you think I should do, Pasch? “
Getting up, Paschey stuffed out his cigar and walked around the desk. Putting his hand on the younger man’s arm, he pulled him up.
Draping an arm around his shoulder and motioning with his chin, he said, “I wanna show you something; see that card game and the two guys takin’ the bets on the phones? And you know about the Parley cards and the girls on Kenmore.”
Howie nodded.
&
nbsp; “And of course you know about the loans on the street.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, maybe I can use a sharp young guy like you on a full time basis.”
“Jesus, Paschey, what exactly you got in mind?”
“Tell you what; come see me tomorrow about this time. We’ll talk, but before that, I want you to go home and think about this, because once you’re in, there’s no backing out. I ain’t interested in your wife or any other bullshit. Your ass is gonna belong to me.”
Howie started to reach for Paschey’s hand. Instead the older man patted his shoulder and said, “Think about it, kid. Now get the hell outta here and for Chrissake, stop lookin’ like you’re gonna cry. I don’t like no crap like that.”
Shirley was out of the apartment by seven forty-five each day to catch the Morse Street El downtown and didn’t realize that Howie was getting up much later. Without telling her, he had begun working for Paschey, booking bets and making loans. The two of them were also spending a lot of time together setting up poker games a couple of times a week, playing with gamblers from all over the city. Howie, with backing by Paschey, played his cards well. More often than not, his share of the winnings was better than any job he could get. Anyway, as he thought, it beat working for a living.
Shirley was happier too. Howie was able to keep up with their bills and when he was around they managed to get along, without fighting. Occasionally they went to a movie at the Granada or dinner at Ashkenaz or the Town House. When he worked late, she would sometimes go see her folks. In the meantime, it was hard to keep up with friends because his schedule was so unpredictable. Shirley cancelled a few dates they had with her girlfriends and their boyfriends or husbands. Other than Paschey and a few of the guys he had met through him, Howie had dropped just about everybody.
Albany Park Page 19
