Exceptional memories of another age lips like strawberry wine by jim vecchio Story of the Month contest entry

October came cruelly to the city this year. Endless gray with grayer streaks of gray in the sky, and that biting rain. The rain aggravated the smell of the litter strewn among the gutters. There are a thousand and one towers, all forcing their way into the same sky. All muddled into the same monochrome scene. Funny how I never used to drink. Most days of the week you can find me stewed by the pier. It was thirty years ago, but I can’t get it out of my mind. They called it The Borscht Belt, The Yiddish Alps. The rocky, tree-lined vistas of The Catskills. If your name was Sussman, or Kauffman, you could rent a tidy little room out here, with two forms of entertainment: movies and bingo. And those resorts, all of which served top-end entertainment with their supper. I performed with most of the biggies there. Not with them, but doing my act before to get the audience ready for something funnier, or at the end to clear the audience out. I never thought highly of myself. It made me feel big, just being in the same spot with those guys. Guys like Morey Amsterdam, Buddy Hackett, Alan King, Jack E. Leonard, Jerry Lewis. Yeah, I knew Jerry. There was something I always didn’t like about him. Talent? Naw. All those guys outweighed me in talent. I’ll tell you what bothered me. There we were, performing our darnedest for those big-shot husbands showing off to their wives, and here we are, away from our families, trying to make them laugh. What really bugged me was watching the ones like Lewis with a wife and family, take the hand of a young girl from the audience and, well, you can imagine. It grated on my nerves. Then, she entered the picture. The proprietor, Bert’s daughter, waiting tables. She would look more natural somewhere on the playground outside. Bert would say she’s got to learn the business from the ground up, but I think he was just saving himself a wage. As I did my stint, I couldn’t help seeing those piercing blue eyes watching from the back. I mean, this gal was set up to go. All those others I mentioned, it was easy for them to get a gal. I never did have such luck. I wanted a gal, bad, but would freeze when one went by. Crazy, I can do an act before a large audience, and I crack up and go silly by a gal. I didn’t do anything about her that night. How would I even go about it? I tried to forget about her but when I went to bed that night, visions of that gal danced in my dreams. The following night didn’t start off too good. As I was preparing to take the stage, she bumped into me with her tray. Nothing serious, just a few drops spilled, but it unnerved me so much, I forgot some of my best jokes. And yet, I could see her in the distance, smiling and pursing her lips. I got off stage early. My show that night was basically a warm-up for Sid Caesar. I took a back table. After all, I performed for my dinner. I was cringing at some of Sid’s jokes. I guess comics are the worst critics of other comics. Suddenly, I felt a slight tickle upon my neck. “Hello, handsome!” said the voice. Her voice. Never had anyone greeted me like that before. I’m aware of my shortcomings. I turned to her, quickly. When I’m on stage, I can pull a thousand comebacks out of my hat. Here, I couldn’t think of a single one. So, I said, “Hi, Gal!” She pushed those red, red lips to me and said, “I kinda like your act.” Then, seeing I couldn’t come up with a reply quick enough, she said, “How’s about some fun, out of this smoky little place?” I couldn’t rise fast enough. She laid down her tray and skipped out the door. I followed her like I was her little puppy. When we got some distance away, I yelled to her. “What’s your name?” “Chrissy,” she replied. “Where are we going?” “Swimming.” I began laughing. “You know, Chrissy, someday those words will be immortalized in a movie!” “Let’s just have fun moving round, the two of us.” “But I have no swim trunks,” I said. “I know,” she replied. Whether it was the bourbon I inhaled prior to her approach, or the absurdity of the dream I now found myself in, I remember only sketchy moments of the rest of that night. Spotlighted images punctuated by those gleaming blue eyes and the taste of her lips that captivated me. The following night, I was hung over as I waited to perform. Not by alcohol, but by shame. I felt I was in my own Garden of Eden and had consumed the forbidden fruit. Chrissy seemed to take every advantage while in my proximity to flash those starry eyes at me. I wanted so to be with her once more, and the same time, also wanted to vomit. Lewis was performing with his new partner, Dean. I was to follow, if the club was in any shape after their performance. You never knew with those guys. Yet, they were the ones that gave me the strength to keep doing what I found myself into. I knew they both had families and where they’d be tonight. Sure enough, after my performance, she was there. She took my hand and kissed it. That’s when I knew this was where I always wanted to be, where I belonged. Where we belonged. She gazed into my eyes and said, “Let’s have a party tonight!” And I replied, “Not where your father can see us!” “Where do you suggest? “Well, I feel like a soldier on furlough, so why not Liberty?” “Liberty?” “Yeah, home of Grossingers’!” “Swell, I’ve never been there!” “Swell!!! Imagine that, I’ve got a gal who says ‘Swell!’” We departed in my car. She rested her head on my shoulder. As we neared Grossingers, those parasitic thoughts clawed at me. Why should I ruin this young girl’s life by introducing her to alcohol? What would her father say, or do? We reached our destination, and she clung closely to me. We took adjacent seats at the bar. “Oh, I’m so excited!” she burst. “What shall we order?” I knew better. I also knew I wanted her. So I replied, “We’ll start on this end and work our way to the other.” How could I not know the result? Chrissy was out before we were even in the middle. I threw her cloak on her shoulder and ushered her out. Somehow, I managed to get her in the passenger seat. As her body gently collapsed on me, I pushed the engine as far as I could. I found a shady, enclosed area about midway back. Not able to control myself, I took hold of her comatose form and planted a kiss on her lips, the kind I always wanted to give a gal. Her eyes suddenly widened and she exerted a full grip on me, plunging me more and more into her. I had to stop it. I freed myself and took over the wheel again. In a serving of mashed words, she said, “Where are we going now, hon?” “Back where you belong.” “I...I...belong with you.” “You belong where your father can keep track of you.” “Can we have another drink, darling?” “Ask me tomorrow.” I don’t know if she remembered that last conversation, but she was cooking with gas that following evening. There were some newcomers that night, even greener than I, and she seemed to be intruding upon them as much as she could. Following my act, I did some intruding of my own. She gazed into my eyes and said, “Jealous?” “No, just protective.” “Protective...from what?” “Protecting your life, and your dignity.” She laughed. “The way you protected me last night?” “Listen, sweetheart! You didn’t make it far down the speed rail last night, the cheap vodkas, rums, and gins the barkeep dispenses as fast as possible to those who want to get drunk as fast as possible…” Then I added, “And sweep under the rug as fast as possible.” “Well I’ve been watching you and your bourbon. How about some of that big boy stuff?” “You ain’t graduated yet, my gal. You got to acquire a real taste before you get a taste.” She grabbed the stem of my glass. I forced it onto the table. As the liquor flowed, I managed to lead her outside. We walked onto a ledge where we could view many of the bungalows, entranced in darkness mingled with candlelight. I tried my best to pour out my heart to her. To say she was the vision I’d always desired, her very touch commanding my devotion. She leaned once more upon my shoulders. I touched that angelic face which had once been only a distant yearning. I tasted of those lips once more. I turned away from her. “Your father,” I said. She could not deny it. She had always been his protected plush princess. Then she took me into her arms, and any protest was useless. As we held one another neath a mocking moon, Bert rushed out, stumbling as his rotund body neared, came at us. In that split second, my mind conjectured what he would say, how he would condemn me. He only said, “You’re through!” So the fifites came and went. My jobs were fewer and fewer as those months and years passed. My big break was a small role on Howdy Doody. It was the biggest show of its time. Maybe I had outlived my uselessness, and a new future awaited. But times changed. Howdy was soon off the air. So, I find myself on the docks, waiting for work, but mainly drinking. I could never put that trip to Grossingers out of my head. And I remember her beauty. That unattainable beauty. Every now and then someone comes by with word of her. Poor gal, she’s been through the wringer. And I’m the one that started it. Please forgive me, Chrissy. Recognized Author Notes

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