you” followed.
He put his hands on her arms and looked directly at her. She looked back into his eyes, then reached up to kiss him on the mouth, gently parting her lips so their tongues touched.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling away.
“I’m not,” he answered as he blushed and turned to leave.
“Good night, Mitzi, and you too, Shayna,” he said, blowing the little girl a kiss.
On the way home, Vic kept licking his lips and thinking of Mitzi Rubin. She didn’t seem old. He wondered about how it would feel to really hold and touch her.
The next day on his way home from work at Joe Fishman’s Clothing store, he got off the streetcar on Springfield and walked toward the school. He had checked the way he looked in the three way mirror before leaving work. His gray slacks and long sleeved blue shirt looked much better than the baseball pants and tee shirt that he had been wearing the night before. From the edge of the schoolyard, he watched Mitzi’s apartment. Debating with himself whether to knock on the door, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he explain why he was there and what would he say? After twenty minutes, he left.
Saturday, after work, he went back to the school. It was deserted, so he sat on the steps again, hoping she would come out. After about an hour, he saw what he thought was a light go on in the apartment. He walked very slowly on the opposite side of the street, trying to look into the window. He saw her moving around but couldn’t make out anything else. Slowly, he kept walking and then crossed over in the middle of the block until he was on her side and turned back. As he approached the building, he saw a small crack in the entrance doorway. Moving closer, he saw the door open slightly and there she was motioning him to come in.
“I thought it was you,” she said, smiling when he pushed the building entrance door open. Quickly, she opened the door to her apartment and beckoned him to come down the four stairs.
“Hi,” was all he could manage. “How’s Shayna?
“She’s fine, but don’t make any noise; I just put her down to sleep.”
“Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” was playing softly on the radio as he strained to see into the barely lit room.
“I see you like the ‘Hit Parade,’” he said, trying to make conversation.
“Oh yes, I love the music. Every week I listen; it’s my favorite.”
He looked around the apartment as his eyes adjusted. Laundry was piled on the couch and tables. An ironing board was set up and freshly pressed shirts were hanging on a clothes line stretched high across the room.
Mitzi was wearing an apron over a washed-out dress and had a pair of men’s slippers on her bare feet. Her hair was pinned up to keep it off her neck. Her eyes, which he hadn’t noticed before, were light grey, and they brightened when she looked at him.
Shyly, she spoke. “You caught me working.”
He smiled, noticing again her accent, and how she softly pronounced her W’s like V’s.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is it okay? Maybe I should leave.”
“No, don’t leave” she said as she moved a pile of clothes to make room for him to sit on the couch.
“I do laundry and dressmaking,” she volunteered, moving to an ironing board near the sewing machine. “That way I can work from here and not leave Shayna. My Mother-in law got me started. She sent me some customers from where she lives.”
Feeling a little self conscious, Vic said, “Oh, that’s good. Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
She sprinkled some water on a shirt while he watched the rhythmic motion of her ironing. With head down, she appeared to be concentrating on her work as she spoke. Putting the water bottle down, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and kept working.
“No, don’t worry. I can use some company. I just want to finish ironing this shirt and then I’ll make some tea and we can visit.”
Vic stood and walked over to look at a picture on the
He put his hands on her arms and looked directly at her. She looked back into his eyes, then reached up to kiss him on the mouth, gently parting her lips so their tongues touched.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling away.
“I’m not,” he answered as he blushed and turned to leave.
“Good night, Mitzi, and you too, Shayna,” he said, blowing the little girl a kiss.
On the way home, Vic kept licking his lips and thinking of Mitzi Rubin. She didn’t seem old. He wondered about how it would feel to really hold and touch her.
The next day on his way home from work at Joe Fishman’s Clothing store, he got off the streetcar on Springfield and walked toward the school. He had checked the way he looked in the three way mirror before leaving work. His gray slacks and long sleeved blue shirt looked much better than the baseball pants and tee shirt that he had been wearing the night before. From the edge of the schoolyard, he watched Mitzi’s apartment. Debating with himself whether to knock on the door, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he explain why he was there and what would he say? After twenty minutes, he left.
Saturday, after work, he went back to the school. It was deserted, so he sat on the steps again, hoping she would come out. After about an hour, he saw what he thought was a light go on in the apartment. He walked very slowly on the opposite side of the street, trying to look into the window. He saw her moving around but couldn’t make out anything else. Slowly, he kept walking and then crossed over in the middle of the block until he was on her side and turned back. As he approached the building, he saw a small crack in the entrance doorway. Moving closer, he saw the door open slightly and there she was motioning him to come in.
“I thought it was you,” she said, smiling when he pushed the building entrance door open. Quickly, she opened the door to her apartment and beckoned him to come down the four stairs.
“Hi,” was all he could manage. “How’s Shayna?
“She’s fine, but don’t make any noise; I just put her down to sleep.”
“Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” was playing softly on the radio as he strained to see into the barely lit room.
“I see you like the ‘Hit Parade,’” he said, trying to make conversation.
“Oh yes, I love the music. Every week I listen; it’s my favorite.”
He looked around the apartment as his eyes adjusted. Laundry was piled on the couch and tables. An ironing board was set up and freshly pressed shirts were hanging on a clothes line stretched high across the room.
Mitzi was wearing an apron over a washed-out dress and had a pair of men’s slippers on her bare feet. Her hair was pinned up to keep it off her neck. Her eyes, which he hadn’t noticed before, were light grey, and they brightened when she looked at him.
Shyly, she spoke. “You caught me working.”
He smiled, noticing again her accent, and how she softly pronounced her W’s like V’s.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is it okay? Maybe I should leave.”
“No, don’t leave” she said as she moved a pile of clothes to make room for him to sit on the couch.
“I do laundry and dressmaking,” she volunteered, moving to an ironing board near the sewing machine. “That way I can work from here and not leave Shayna. My Mother-in law got me started. She sent me some customers from where she lives.”
Feeling a little self conscious, Vic said, “Oh, that’s good. Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
She sprinkled some water on a shirt while he watched the rhythmic motion of her ironing. With head down, she appeared to be concentrating on her work as she spoke. Putting the water bottle down, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and kept working.
“No, don’t worry. I can use some company. I just want to finish ironing this shirt and then I’ll make some tea and we can visit.”
Vic stood and walked over to look at a picture on the
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