Her Thirties Part 101 Transported in Time

1937 Chevy Taxi

Never play cards with anyone who lived through the Great Depression—they know all about winning.

Harry and Ella fall into that category and they partnered, of course, and won hand after hand. They reminded me of Mae and Gooper in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof—exchanging winks and nods like a couple of card sharks fleecing some rubes.

Generally, I hate cards and board games, but the evening was enjoyable because Harry and Ella alternately regaled us with their reminiscences of growing up in Toronto during the Thirties.

Curiously, Marilyn’s memory was more accurate than Ella’s—a fact that caused Harry not a few arched eyebrows, but he willingly conceded when she corrected him, admitting her details were more accurate.

Near midnight, Harry ordered a cab for Ella and himself, and they watched for it at the front windows.

I helped Marilyn finish cleaning the kitchen.

“Any chance I can stay for a night cap?” I whispered.

“Definitely not,” she said sternly, “you have to drive.”

My face fell. She grabbed my chin, her dark eyes dancing. “You may, however, stay for an eggnog coffee—but no longer than fifteen minutes—I have my reputation to consider.”

“Of course—I wouldn’t want the neighbors to gossip.”

She rolled her eyes, but I got the message. In anything she did, she marched to her own drum—but she was a very principled lady—and I loved her for it.

Ella left clutching her picture, with Harry gallantly helping her down the stairs. I wisely resisted the urge to add my assistance, and marveled at the strength coursing through their veins.

Was it stubbornness, force of character, or just that old Thirties determination to get by? Whatever the explanation, they were survivors—of that, there could be no doubt.

Marilyn and I sat in the darkened front room, watching the streetlights, milky in the curtains, luxuriating in the delicious after-glow of an evening well spent.

Marilyn laid her head against my shoulder and I breathed in deeply, inhaling her beauty like a fragrance.

“Harry remembers you, Joey,” she whispered.

“I know Mar—I kind of remember him too. I always liked him. He’s always felt like family to me—even back then.”

“I don’t want it to end this time, Joey.”

“It won’t—I promise you. I want to marry you, Mar.”

I looked deep into her eyes, feeling myself drawn into her solitude—into that private place only the two of us knew. It was so familiar and so comforting.

I needed her more than I needed to breathe.

“I love you Joey. I’ve always loved you and I always will.”

Suddenly, we weren’t there—we were on a peninsula of land high above the lake. A fire was burning and a red Moon had left its somber track upon the water.

Off in the distance there was the grumble of an approaching storm, but I felt comforted because I knew the place—it was our place—where we always came.

But then a shadow fell across my mind.

It was also where I chose to go after Marilyn’s body was found. It was where I leaped into the darkness, ending up on the rocks below.

I shivered and began shaking uncontrollably. She clung to me, shushing my fears, smoothing my hair—consoling me. She knew.

“It won’t happen again. I won’t leave you and you won’t leave me.”

I sheltered her, enfolding her, as a jagged arm of lightning lit the sky—whether here or back then, I wasn’t sure—but held her tight and rocked her in my arms. I closed my eyes and buried my face deep in her hair, breathing in her essence.

We slept together the first time that night.

© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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