Albany Park (23 page)

When he pulled up to the curb, she quickly jumped in the convertible. “Just drive,” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

“Please, Howie, I know you’re upset, but can’t we try?”

“I don’t wanta talk right now. I got things to do. You do your thing and I’ll do mine and maybe we’ll talk in a few days.”

“Can’t we go somewhere for a sandwich and talk?” she pleaded.

Shaking his head and gritting his teeth, he pulled into the Pie Pan parking lot and cut the motor. Not looking at her, he kept his hands on the steering wheel.

She leaned against the door. “Are we going in?”

He didn’t answer. It got very quiet, except for the street traffic and cars parking or pulling out of the lot.

Finally shifting and looking at him, she said quietly, “Howie, please listen. I have to do this and don’t want you to be angry.”

Turning on her, he sneered. “How can you say that? I thought you loved me and wanted to get married. Instead, you decided to please your parents and go away to school. You’re nothing but a spoiled little rich girl.”

“You don’t understand! If I don’t try Champaign, they’ll never forgive me and they’ll blame you. I don’t want that to happen.”

“And you expect me to just twiddle my fingers and wait around for my little school girl. That’s a lotta bull, and I ain’t gonna’ do it. You’re gonna’ be sorry for this.”

She burst into tears. “Please, Howie, I have to leave the day after Labor Day and I don’t want to go with you feeling like this. I promise, I’ll call you every few days.”

Starting to say something, he looked over at her and then stopped. Beginning again, he said quietly, but firmly, “look baby, I’m not going to promise you anything, but just let me know where and when I can reach you as soon as you get settled. We’ll just have to see what happens. In the meantime, I don’t like this and don’t know how I’ll feel with you so far away.”

Slumping back in the seat, she answered very softly, “thank you, Howie. I love you and I know we’ll make this work.”

Turning the key, he began driving. She sat quietly sniffling. When they reached her building, he leaned across and opened her door, saying, “Don’t say anything; just get out.”

Holding a tissue to her eyes, she slipped out and turned back at the entrance to watch him pull away.

Lighting a cigarette, he drove to the Green Mill Lounge on Broadway. Entering, he waited as his eyes adjusted to the dim light till he could make out the dusky green walls and carpet, visible through the smoke filled room. A three piece combo, behind the ten by ten parquet dance floor, was playing a soft jazzy version of the “St. Louis Blues.” Shuffling around on the dance floor was a short older guy with a taller, plump, grey-haired woman glued to him. Four men and two women were on stools at the bar, ignoring the dancers.

Howie tossed his cigarettes on the bar and ordered a seven and seven. Nursing the drink and smoking, he looked around for someone familiar in the curved booths along both walls. Peggy, a baby-faced blonde hooker, he’d been introduced to, by Paschey two months before, was there. She crossed her shapely legs while balancing a black patent leather high heeled shoe on her toe. Leaning into a bald-headed guy in a seersucker suit, she sipped her drink and blew Howie a kiss, then turned to whisper something to the seersucker guy. Howie caught her looking again and raised his arm, pointing to his watch. Her response was raised eyebrows, showing him her open palms and turning away..

Getting up, he walked over, saying, “Hi Babe,’ and moved closer to her, ignoring the seersucker guy Sliding out of the booth, the small man looked up at Howie towering over him and started to say something. Howie turned abruptly and stared him down. The bartender, wiping the bar looked up and started to move toward them while the people sitting nearby watched. The little man slouched back into the booth and looked away. Wiping his hands on a towel, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief.

Taking Peggy’s arm, Howie led her to where he was sitting at the bar. Keeping his eyes on the three of them, the bartender quickly poured her a drink. Her bald friend threw a couple of dollars on the table and hurried toward the exit.

Howie, without saying a word, ran his hand over the back of the slippery white and black fabric of her shiny, summer-weight dress.

“You like that, don’t you?” he said, cracking a smile.

“You gotta lotta nerve Howie; that guy is a regular and he’s good for a ten buck tip.” She frowned.

“You must be getting pretty good,” he chuckled.

“Well I guess so; you keep comin’ back,” she said, still scowling.

“Yeah, but I’m not some square john,” he said smirking.

Peggy looked down, her bottom lip protruding and her thick black lashes fluttering as she sat silently.

“Hey, don’t get mad, you know I’m Paschey’s guy and if you get any guff from anyone let me know and I’ll square it for you. Now c’mon, baby, we’re gonna have some fun tonight. In fact, we’ll make it an all-nighter; I need to be with someone who appreciates me.”

Looking up, starting to smile, she punched his arm. “You’re a real bastard, but you are fun, and I’m tellin’ you now, you better take me someplace nice for dinner.”

“Now you’re talking; maybe you’ll even show me a few new tricks later.”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, behave yourself. Let’s get outta here.”

“Sure, Baby,” he said, throwing some bills on the bar and fondling her behind as he escorted her to the door.

Shirley arrived in Champaign about noon the day after Labor Day. She had not heard from Howie for over a week. Ben and Molly helped her unpack and waited as she settled in her dorm. Her roommate had not arrived, but after forty minutes, she insisted her folks let her be on her own to meet the other girls. Reluctantly, the Siegals agreed, but didn’t leave until Ben slipped her an envelope with fifty one dollar bills.

“Mad money,” he whispered with a wink.

She giggled, kissing his cheek. Molly smiled giving her one last hug and took Ben’s arm as they backed out of the room into the cluttered hallway.

The following day Shirley called and luckily caught Howie, wanting to give him her address and the telephone number of the phone in the hall near her room; promising to be available ever day between four and six p.m. She didn’t hear from him for two weeks.

Hesitating to call him long distance, but finally relenting, she left a message with his mother. Five days later, on the twentieth of September, she awoke nauseated and threw up. Her roommate was in the bathroom at the same time and laughed, kidding her that she probably was pregnant. Shirley managed a smile and mouthed “Screw you” to her.

The remainder of the day, she rushed between classes and stopped once to get some toast in the cafeteria to calm her nausea. The following morning, she was sick to her stomach again and wracked her brain trying to remember exactly when she had her last period, wondering if she could possibly be pregnant. So much had been going on the last few weeks at home and now at school she couldn’t believe she had been careless.

At four o’clock that afternoon, she went to the student union and stood in line for a telephone booth. Howie answered on the third ring. “Howie, get here tonight; I’ve got to see you,” she said.

”What the—“ he said before she cut him off. “Be here,” she shrieked, and hung up.

He arrived at nine thirty and found her waiting in the lobby of the dormitory. Seeing him, she ran, throwing her arms around his neck and immediately began crying uncontrollably. “Thank you, I knew you’d come. I’ve been waiting here since eight.”

“Easy, Baby,” he comforted her. “I’m here, so don’t worry; everything is gonna’ be alright.”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here before curfew,” she whimpered, looking around to see if anyone was watching. Most of the couches surrounding the lobby were occupied by couples, either holding hands or in various stages of embrace and too busy with their own last few minutes together before the dorm closed down to visitors, for the night.

The buxom female desk attendant cautioned her as she left, “Watch the time, young lady, we close the door at ten thirty.”

Waving, Shirley called out, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” and slipped out the door as a group that had been gathered outside was entering.

In the car, she dried her eyes and lit a cigarette, directing him off campus to a small local tavern with dark painted windows and a neon sign advertising Budweiser. Inside it was dark with only a few low lights. The wood floor creaked as they entered. Bent over drinks at the bar were a middle aged couple and two men in overalls. Shirley led Howie through a smoke-filled haze in front of the bar to a booth in the back away from the jukebox. Sitting across from her, he took her hand.

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.