"KELSO'S SWING" [CHAPTER 36]
Since Marstrulavich had no car, Annie drove all the way from Pacific Palisades to pick him up for their dinner date that was at her invitation. Because, as always, he was not ready, she parked in the alley behind his apartment and was surprised to discover how clean and bright and tidy his studio was. No dust existed on the books in his lone bookcase, stocked with Steinbeck, Hemingway and Upton Sinclair, among others. At the front window a fern and coleus bloomed. A variety of multicolored tetra inhabited his crystal-clear fish tank. On a table covered with a red and white checkered cloth sat a bowl of fruit. On the walls were posters of Artie Shaw and John Coltrane. Marstrulavich wore black army low quarters withdrawn from his closet after a decade hiatus and spit-shined that morning.
When he walked her out to her yellow VW rag-top, he noticed the approving nods and grins of his immediate surfer neighbors as well as Annie's tanned calves with just enough muscle in the yellow sun dress with straps at the shoulders and yellow heels with straps. When she asked him if he wanted to drive, he shook his head and seemed at ease with her behind the wheel as she shifted and drove down the alley. He asked her if she minded if he smoked, and she told him “of course not.”
He lowered his window to keep the smoke out, knowing she didn't smoke. He wore faded Levi's he'd had for decades and his usual plaid 1950s shirt, which Annie, glancing at him as she drove, said, “I like your shirts. Where do you find them?”
“I've had them a while,” Marstrulavich concluded. “I can't remember the last time I bought a shirt.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “You trimmed your beard.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You look really nice.”
”Thanks, Annie. So do you.” He glanced at the golden swirl spilling down her shoulders. “You have nice hair.”
“Thank you. I just had it done.”
They dined at Tony's on the Redondo Beach pier. Marstrulavich opened the door of the VW for Annie and opened the door of the restaurant for her and seated her at the table she reserved by the window with a view of the harbor and ocean. She thanked him for each overture of gallantry. He took his time looking over the wine list and made suggestions but allowed her to make the choice of a fine chardonnay from Napa Valley. They had salads, crab cake appetizers, Marstrulavich the swordfish and Annie the sand dabs as main courses. They were both slow eaters.
After they finished, Annie sipped her wine while Marstrulavich had a Drambuie and lit up and she smiled at him, so pleased he explained to her his real name and not Kelso's renaming of him in junior high, which she felt was cute. He made her promise not to tell anybody his real name was Marshak. He admitted to her he was a bookie, but explained it was a safe gig, that lawyers were always at the ready to handle things if the syndicate got busted. He found himself more than occasionally settling his eyes on her slimmest of cleavage, tanned breasts small yet ripe, and a perfect fit for her carriage, a fully mature 28 year old woman, nubile yet not overly effulgent. She was genuine. She was eligible. Why hadn't she been plucked for the long haul like all the rest and why was she glancing at him like she really liked him and was amused by his company?
She asked, “How come you don't drive? Do you even have a drivers license?”
He shook his head, flicked ashes into a tray, gazed out at the harbor and ocean as the waning sun sprayed shards of gold and crimson across the sky. “I don't like driving, and I don't like cars.”
“But why? It's almost impossible to live in LA without a car, Ted.”
He blew out some smoke, dashed out his butt. “I don't need a car when I work out of my apartment and have a bike to take me to the market or anything I need around here. I have no desire to go anywhere else in that hell-hole out there. And a car's a lot of responsibility and maintenance.” he explained. “Ownership and the cycle of maintenance can drive you crazy as it is. I've got just enough of it to keep me busy as I want to be. I don't need to worry about a car breaking down, and getting ripped off by sleazy mechanics and insurance policies. I don't have to wash it, wax it, keep the windows clean, gas it up, put in oil and water. I don't have to fight over parking places on the beach and getting tickets.” He lit up a new cigarette. Annie had never seen anybody so thoroughly relish the ritual of lighting up a cigarette and taking that first long luxurious drag. “When you walk, or ride a bike, you see more, hear more, and think better, Annie. I'm never in a hurry to get anywhere that special. It doesn't pay.”
She could not cease smiling at him, liking his crooked mashed nose, and the kindest eyes she'd ever seen in a man, and especially in such a rugged mug. She felt somehow he was wise and knew answers others didn't, and she didn't know why, only that he was a lot smarter than he let on.
“Don't you know smoking is bad for you, mister Marshak?” She crinkled her eyes as she smiled.
“Everything's bad for you, Annie. I made it through Vietnam, so I'll take my chances.”
“Do you know I think it's so funny, and cute, when you try and look mean, like Kelso, when you're not.”
“He's not mean.”
“You two, you love each other, don't you?”
“Cut it out now.” he looked away, out the window.
“Okay. I will. Sorry. I didn't mean to invade anything so sacred as your men thing. Sorry again.”
“It's okay.” He looked at her. She had powder blue eyes. She was French and Irish, a nice combo. He wouldn't let her pay. Left a marvelous tip, pulled her seat out for her, and she took his arm as they walked out of the restaurant.
When he walked her out to her yellow VW rag-top, he noticed the approving nods and grins of his immediate surfer neighbors as well as Annie's tanned calves with just enough muscle in the yellow sun dress with straps at the shoulders and yellow heels with straps. When she asked him if he wanted to drive, he shook his head and seemed at ease with her behind the wheel as she shifted and drove down the alley. He asked her if she minded if he smoked, and she told him “of course not.”
He lowered his window to keep the smoke out, knowing she didn't smoke. He wore faded Levi's he'd had for decades and his usual plaid 1950s shirt, which Annie, glancing at him as she drove, said, “I like your shirts. Where do you find them?”
“I've had them a while,” Marstrulavich concluded. “I can't remember the last time I bought a shirt.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “You trimmed your beard.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You look really nice.”
”Thanks, Annie. So do you.” He glanced at the golden swirl spilling down her shoulders. “You have nice hair.”
“Thank you. I just had it done.”
They dined at Tony's on the Redondo Beach pier. Marstrulavich opened the door of the VW for Annie and opened the door of the restaurant for her and seated her at the table she reserved by the window with a view of the harbor and ocean. She thanked him for each overture of gallantry. He took his time looking over the wine list and made suggestions but allowed her to make the choice of a fine chardonnay from Napa Valley. They had salads, crab cake appetizers, Marstrulavich the swordfish and Annie the sand dabs as main courses. They were both slow eaters.
After they finished, Annie sipped her wine while Marstrulavich had a Drambuie and lit up and she smiled at him, so pleased he explained to her his real name and not Kelso's renaming of him in junior high, which she felt was cute. He made her promise not to tell anybody his real name was Marshak. He admitted to her he was a bookie, but explained it was a safe gig, that lawyers were always at the ready to handle things if the syndicate got busted. He found himself more than occasionally settling his eyes on her slimmest of cleavage, tanned breasts small yet ripe, and a perfect fit for her carriage, a fully mature 28 year old woman, nubile yet not overly effulgent. She was genuine. She was eligible. Why hadn't she been plucked for the long haul like all the rest and why was she glancing at him like she really liked him and was amused by his company?
She asked, “How come you don't drive? Do you even have a drivers license?”
He shook his head, flicked ashes into a tray, gazed out at the harbor and ocean as the waning sun sprayed shards of gold and crimson across the sky. “I don't like driving, and I don't like cars.”
“But why? It's almost impossible to live in LA without a car, Ted.”
He blew out some smoke, dashed out his butt. “I don't need a car when I work out of my apartment and have a bike to take me to the market or anything I need around here. I have no desire to go anywhere else in that hell-hole out there. And a car's a lot of responsibility and maintenance.” he explained. “Ownership and the cycle of maintenance can drive you crazy as it is. I've got just enough of it to keep me busy as I want to be. I don't need to worry about a car breaking down, and getting ripped off by sleazy mechanics and insurance policies. I don't have to wash it, wax it, keep the windows clean, gas it up, put in oil and water. I don't have to fight over parking places on the beach and getting tickets.” He lit up a new cigarette. Annie had never seen anybody so thoroughly relish the ritual of lighting up a cigarette and taking that first long luxurious drag. “When you walk, or ride a bike, you see more, hear more, and think better, Annie. I'm never in a hurry to get anywhere that special. It doesn't pay.”
She could not cease smiling at him, liking his crooked mashed nose, and the kindest eyes she'd ever seen in a man, and especially in such a rugged mug. She felt somehow he was wise and knew answers others didn't, and she didn't know why, only that he was a lot smarter than he let on.
“Don't you know smoking is bad for you, mister Marshak?” She crinkled her eyes as she smiled.
“Everything's bad for you, Annie. I made it through Vietnam, so I'll take my chances.”
“Do you know I think it's so funny, and cute, when you try and look mean, like Kelso, when you're not.”
“He's not mean.”
“You two, you love each other, don't you?”
“Cut it out now.” he looked away, out the window.
“Okay. I will. Sorry. I didn't mean to invade anything so sacred as your men thing. Sorry again.”
“It's okay.” He looked at her. She had powder blue eyes. She was French and Irish, a nice combo. He wouldn't let her pay. Left a marvelous tip, pulled her seat out for her, and she took his arm as they walked out of the restaurant.
