Secrets, part thirteen

For weeks, Leta had been secretly spending time with Leech Hoose, primarily at a speakeasy in a part of Toledo far from where she lived with her husband and two children. Two nights a week, she would board a streetcar that carried her from her neighborhood, spend a couple of hours at the establishment with Leech and then return on the penultimate trolley back to her own home. She dreaded returning home, although her children were there. Her marriage to Ora Freeman had dissolved into one of mutual disrespect and distrust. His temper, his laziness in all things—from employment to personal habits—his disrespect, his meanness toward her two children all combined to make her loathe him, being with him, even being near him. For his part, he seized every opportunity to be away from her as well.

And so she began to talk to charming, sweet-voiced and gentle Leech. He knew she was married and stated very clearly that he did not care. She was in an establishment where she had little chance of meeting any friends or relatives, and she felt great warmth in him, a warmth she needed desperately.

Their friendship grew into a relationship. She didn’t know how she could exist without him. However, one evening, after a particularly complicated day, while they were sitting at their usual table in the speakeasy, she heard a familiar and completely unwelcome voice interrupt their peace.

“Ora?” Leta gasped and turned her head.

There he was, her unwelcome husband, towering over her and her beau.

Before Leta could react any further, Leech tried to stand in her defense, but he had been sitting too long and was weighed down by the generous amount of liquor he had consumed during the evening. Ora pushed him back down easily.

“Sit,” he ordered.

Then he grabbed his wife’s arm and yanked her to her feet.

“Let’s go, whore,” he snapped.

“Watch your mouth,” she demanded, “and let me go.”

Leta struggled, but he held on to her tightly.

 “Shut up, bitch!” he roared and slapped her across the face.

If he had not been holding her arm, she would have fallen to the floor, weakened by her own inebriation, but also in response to the force her husband used. Leta grabbed her cheek with her free arm. She could not see the red handprint, but she could feel the sting. All the drinking in the world would not have numbed her from that.

Charlie, the barkeep, had run over to them, his massive frame casting a shadow on both Ora and Leta.

“Hey, pal,” he said to Ora in his deepest, most commanding voice, the one he used when he was breaking up a potential fight or ordering a belligerent inebriate out of his establishment. Once Leta witnessed him physically lifting a man and throwing him out into the rain. “Calm down and the let the lady go.”

Ora swore an oath and stood defiantly before the larger man. “This is my wife,” he hissed, “and I am taking this hussy home where she belongs.”

Charlie immediately stopped and looked at Leta. “Is this true, Leta?” he asked.

With tears in her eyes, she looked at Charlie and nodded slightly. Immediately, the barkeep raised his hands in defeat and stepped back.

“Alrighty then,” he said agreeably. “Let’s just do this calmly. We’re all adults here.”

“Not this,” Ora hissed, jerking Leta’s arm roughly, “this is a cheating whore.”

“Hey!” Leech protested, and made to interfere, but Charlie grabbed him firmly.

“Not our business, pal,” Charlie said.

To be continued.

Secrets, part twelve

When she gave the password and entered the speakeasy, Leta was trembling with anxiety. She needed a drink to calm her nerves, she told herself, and went straight to the bar.

"Leta!” the barkeep exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

She looked right at him with dark eyes.

“One of those kind of days,” he surmised. “How about a gin and tonic?”

“Please,” she said.

“Coming right up.”

The establishment wasn’t very full, and Leta made a cursory glance of the patrons. Many of them wore hats to be less recognizable, but she didn’t see him, the man she had been meeting here for weeks, and the same man she had rejected by not appearing for their lunch date earlier. While she was disappointed, she did relax a little.

When the barkeep handed her the cocktail, she drank it as if it were a glass of water on a steaming day.

“Someone’s thirsty,” the barkeep noted.

“Charlie,” she said, “you have no idea.”

“How about something a little stronger? Got some vermouth in today and could make you a martini.”

“A martini!” she gasped in surprise. It seemed so indulgent.

“Fresh olives, too,” he added. “My father-in-law is visiting from Italy and brought a mess of them with him.”

“Well, why not?”

“I’ll be with you in just a jif,” he said and turned to wait on the man called Drunk Harry.

Drunk Harry came into the speakeasy every night at eight-thirty. He dressed immaculately in a pressed linen suit and tie, his thick, slicked down his graying hair and carried a pack of cigarettes. Over the subsequent ninety minutes, he would smoke the pack of cigarettes and drink until he could hardly stand. Then he would slide off his bar stool, stagger out the door and across the street to the large home where he lived alone. His wife had died a year earlier, and his grown children blamed their mother’s untimely death on their father’s greed and neglect. He was a successful financier who worked from early in the morning until fifteen minutes before he entered the speakeasy. Leta heard from other patrons that he was very wealthy, and once she saw him pay his tab from a large roll of bills he extracted from a pocket. While he had profited monetarily from the Great Depression, he had lost everything else. Leta never noticed that he talked to anyone, although she once observed that he shared a cigarette with a fellow businessman who sat beside him.

Tonight, she felt a certain pang of pity for the man. He was attractive, well groomed and successful, but miserable, slowly drinking himself to death. He looked at her and nodded, as if he understood what she was thinking and agreed. She quickly turned away, reaching for her glass.

“Oh,” she said to no one in particular when she realized it was empty.

“May I buy you a refill?” a familiar voice asked.

She continued her turn to find Leech Hoose standing beside her.

“Leech!” she gasped in relief. She nearly lost her balance, but he reached out his soft hand to steady her.

“Maybe you’ve had too much,” he teased and then winked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I was—“

“No need,” he said, holding up his hand. “I am just glad you were not sick…or worse.”

He sat beside her, just as Charlie returned with her martini.

“What is that?” Leech asked.

“A martini,” she answered.

“Want to try one?” Charlie asked.

Leech examined the clear cocktail carefully.

“Go ahead,” Leta urged. “Take a sip. See if you like it.”

He did and shuddered, which made Leta laugh.

“That’s nasty!”

“More for me, then,” Leta noted through her laughter.

“Straight gin coming right up,” the barkeep said.

“How are you?” Leech asked when they were alone, and she became more serious..

“Better,” she answered. “You?

“Same. I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”

“Me either,” she acknowledged. “But here I am.”

“I’m glad.”

“Lunch was—I’m sorry—I was—“ she stammered, but he held up his hand.

“Don’t,” he said. “We’re here.”

After he received his regular glass of straight gin, they took their drinks to their table in the corner. A few moments later, the awkwardness dispatched, they sipped their drinks in silence and held hands.

The speakeasy was fairly empty with only twenty or so patrons at any one time throughout the night. Leta was so content that she lost track of the time. When Drunk Harry finally got up and staggered toward the door, she remembered that she had children, a home and other responsibilities. She looked at the table. How many drinks had she had? And then she looked up at Leech who was looking at her with cloudy eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a slight slur, and she smiled.

“I think it’s time I head home,” she said. “I don’t even know what time it is!”

“Obviously,” a familiar gruff voice agreed.

To be continued.

Secrets, part eleven

Leta felt conflict and confusion. She was married to Ora Freeman. He had heroically rescued her and her children after the sudden death of her husband Albert. Ora had been attentive, charming and devoted. She married him, and only after did she learn that his habits, manners and behaviors were not those of a man with a wife and family to support. Over the next several months, their life together became tense, and at least for Leta and her children, miserable. Ora’s work as a house painter was sporadic and to add more financial uncertainty, he rarely pursued jobs. His personal habits of cleanliness were lacking, and there were times when Leta was so disgusted with him that she could barely stand to be in the same room.

For her own peace, she began to frequent a speakeasy in another part of the city, not too far from their home, but far enough that Ora would never visit. It was also a higher caliber of establishment than he dared set foot in. There she met Mr. Leech Hoose, who had been unconcerned that she was married, who had found her charming and witty, who liked to look into her eyes.

Over a period of three months, Leta and Leech became more intimate, meeting on a schedule at the speakeasy and even having lunch on Wednesdays. The masculine attention altered Leta’s countenance, but when her sister-in-law Florence began to notice, Leta determined that she must stop seeing the preferred male companion. To begin, she had decided that she would stay home rather than meet him at 12:30 p.m. on this particular Wednesday. While this caused her tremendous consternation, Leta held to her resolution.

While the impulse taunted her, she refused to look at the large kitchen clock, and even when she turned in that general direction, she lowered her head. Finally, she could wait no longer. It was after one in the afternoon, and she needed to walk to the market for some flour and sausages for supper. Although on an alternative route, she passed the café where she had been meeting Leech. Being so late in the afternoon, the restaurant was nearly empty, and he was not there.

She felt relief and sadness, and this melancholy took root in her, and then steadily grew throughout the day, dwarfing the anxiety she felt earlier. When the children arrived home from school, she was making cookies, but she barely noted their presence. A large emptiness filled her mind. Her son Dale prattled aimlessly about a new recess game he and some of the other boys had created, and she nodded and responded appropriately, but she wasn’t listening.

Her thoughts were filled with Leech and the constant rejection of those thoughts.

“Ma!”

Vivian’s raised voice startled her, and she looked at her daughter who had at some point seated herself at the kitchen table to do her homework.

“You already added the sugar,” Vivian continued when she had her mother’s attention.

“Oh yes, of course,” Leta agreed, stirred her raisin compote and then put the sugar away. “Let’s put your books away,” she added, “and set the table for supper. Your step-father should be home soon.”

But Ora failed to arrive. The trio waited until well after 7:00 p.m., and ate. Leta had Vivian make a plate for Ora, sent the children to their rooms, dressed and then took the bus to the only place she would find comfort.

Leech was there.

To be continued.

Secrets, part ten

Leta was having her weekly lunch with her sister-in-law and best friend Florence, and after several meetings and conversations, Florence had begun to question her inconsistent behavior. One moment Leta was as happy as a schoolgirl in spring the next she was as withdrawn and noncommunicative as a young woman in adolescence. Florence had already noted that Leta’s behavior was similar to a young woman’s in love, which seemed to be uncharacteristic considering Leta had been expressing unhappiness in her marriage with Ora.

In only a few seconds, Leta’s countenance went from excitement to gloomy.

 “What is it?” Florence questioned.

“What?”

“You became very sad all of a sudden.”

“Really? I don’t know why.”

Then their server arrived, allowing Leta to change the subject. Florence accepted Leta’s decision but continued to search in Leta’s words and expressions for hidden information. When they finished their meal and parted, Florence made one more attempt to coax Leta into revelation of the basis of the emotional inconsistency, but Leta ignored it and simply sent a loving greeting to her brother and nieces.

From that moment, Leta realized that she must be more guarded with her emotions. While she had not even started talking with her much missed Albert until after she had formally separated with Ralph, she was more than socially involved with Leech and simultaneously very much married to Ora.

Although she had scheduled a lunch date with Leech for the following day, Leta chose to remain at home instead. This was not a definitive decision for her to make. In fact, she felt so vexed by Florence’s observations that she spent the afternoon, evening and much of a restless night anxiously reviewing her situation and alternating between continuing her relationship with Leech and abandoning her attachment altogether. The only time she felt happy in her life occurred when she was with Leech, but when she wasn’t with him, she struggled with a combination of guilt and eagerness to see him again.

Perhaps sensing her distress, Ora awoke early in the morning with her. While she was dressing, he made the coffee and had a steaming cup waiting for her. She cooked breakfast, of course, but he assisted in the kitchen and chatted with a liveliness that she had not experienced in a long time. When the children made their way to the breakfast table, he greeted them with a big smile, complimented her cooking to them and then handed each of them a dollar. Vivian accepted with a quiet thank you, but Dale, who had been eyeing a set of adventure novels was ecstatic and begged his mother if he could stop at Woolworth’s on his way home from school to purchase several.

“You may spend fifty cents,” Leta stated. “The rest I want you to save. Vivian, you, too.”

Dale started to protest, but Ora interjected firmly, “You heard your mother.”

Rather than obtain the desired effect of humble obedience, Ora’s remark caused Dale’s face to redden with fury. Leta cleared her throat quickly. She had recently had long conversations with both of her children, developing with them several calm responses to any of their stepfather’s vicious remarks or demands.

“Yes, Ma,” Dale said grudgingly.

A short time later, Leta was alone. She set herself to washing the breakfast dishes and then her housework directly. She needed to keep busy and follow a strict schedule in order to distract her from the lure to meet Mr. Hoose for lunch as planned. The time passed slowly, and in spite of her best efforts, she looked at the clock every ten or fifteen minutes. After she washed the coffee percolator, she made another pot and drank continually all morning. This only intensified her tremulous movements.

At twelve twenty-five, five minutes before she had planned to meet Leech for lunch, she turned away from the clock completely. She made herself a chicken sandwich for lunch, poured herself the last cup of coffee and tried to read the newspaper. The sounds in the quiet room were thunderous, from the clock’s steady ticking and the rattle of the breeze on the kitchen window to her own chewing. Each sip of coffee reverberated throughout the kitchen.

To be continued.

Secrets, part nine

Almost as thought it was a natural flow of their budding friendship, Leta and Mr. Leech Hoose began to meet for lunch on Wednesdays. They initially met at a speakeasy where Leta had been fleeing her husband Ora, began to visit with each other there regularly, and finally developed a casual friendship. The Wednesday lunch dates were a sign that the friendship was developing into even more intimate territory.

While Leech preferred Tuesdays, Leta had her longstanding weekly lunch date with her sister-in-law Florence and on occasion her sisters Nellie and Louise. If she wanted to alter that date, she would have to give Florence a complete explanation, and in this instance, that was something she could not do. Florence’s strict religiosity would not understand or condone Leta’s betrayal of her marriage vows.

Leta justified it for herself by noting that Ora was also failing their marriage. He was not a good husband, provider or even stepparent. With Leech, she was happy and relaxed. She began to take better care of herself and her appearance, as well as dress more fashionably. When she thought about him, she her countenance became more outgoing.

“What’s happening, Leta?” Florence asked during one of their weekly lunches.

“What do you mean?” Leta asked in return.

“I can’t figure out what, but you’ve been going through something lately,” Florence explained. “One day you’re as giggly as one of my girls, and then next you’re as irritable as ever I’ve seen you. At first, I thought you might be drinking in the morning—“

“What?” Leta interrupted, dropping her fork.

“—But then,” Florence continued, “I remembered you weren’t like that.”

“Damn right I’m not!”

“Leta!”

“Florence, you just accused me of being a drunk,” Leta charged.

“No,” Florence corrected, “I said I was concerned about your behavior.

“You said you thought I was drinking in the morning,” Leta returned.

“I said I didn’t think that was the reason, but even so, Leta, you are behaving quite oddly.”

“It’s a far cry from being irritable and angry all the time, as I have been for months, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course,” Florence agreed. “It’s just a bit extreme, these mood swings. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were in love.”

Leta’s body tensed, and she quickly took a drink of water before she revealed to her sister-in-law too much. She was falling in love, but with a man who wasn’t her husband. Until that moment, she had not considered it.

“Really?” she choked out.

“Something very interesting must be going on with you and Ora,” Florence said. “I thought you were unhappy with him.”

“He just started a job,” Leta countered. “There is a man who owns a few duplexes in West Toledo that hired him and a couple of other fellows to paint all of his buildings.”

“That’s wonderful!” Florence exclaimed. “I must confess, Aaron and I have been worried. It’s been a few weeks since he’s had a job.”

“Me, too. But he gets his first paycheck on Friday, and then I can pay off some bills,” Leta agreed.

“How long do you expect him to be working?”

“Right now, it looks like three months,” Leta answered.

“This will help you financially quite a bit,” Florence noted.

“Yes,” Leta answered, but upon realizing that for the next several weeks life at home would be more pleasant, her countenance fell.

To be continued.

Secrets, part eight

Mr. Hoose was the most charming and determined fellow Leta had met during her visits to the speakeasy where she went to get away from her unhappy life with her husband Ora. While they had seen each other previously at the establishment, it wasn’t until a night after a terrible encounter at home with her husband that Mr. Hoose actually approached her.

His manner initially was as aggressive as any other man who had introduced himself to her over the past couple of months. He looked at her as if she was a desperate, loose woman seeking temporary and improper male companionship. She gently rebuffed him by stating quite clearly that she was a married woman with children and that her husband worked a second shift at a local factory and would be meeting her after he finished work for the night. Where it deterred most of her would-be suitors, Mr. Hoose let her comment roll off him, and he asked if he might sit down with her anyway.

She was tired and upset with the situation at home and agreed.

“May I buy you a drink?” he asked.

Leta sighed heavily. She had already had two and four was her maximum when she was with trusted company. Three drinks could disrupt her capability to make good decisions. However, she felt no better from the previous two and agreed.

“You seem a little distressed, Mrs. Freeman,” he said.

“A quarrel,” she said, avoiding explanation, but Mr. Hoose would not let it stay. He liked the sound of her voice, even when it was filled with annoyance and anger.

“With Mr. Freeman?”

“Yes,” she said, sipping her gin and tonic gingerly and weighing what and how much she could tell this stranger with what could be inappropriate attentions.

“My wife and I used to quarrel frequently,” he offered sympathetically.

“Are you divorced?” Leta asked suspiciously.

“She died.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I am frustrated with my husband,” she continued, Mr. Hoose’s understanding eyes coaxing the story out of her.

Over the next month, their conversations went from random to habitual. Leta arranged to leave the house on Thursday and Saturday evenings for three hours. This was easy enough. Ora liked to visit their neighborhood blind pig on Thursdays (as well as any other evening he had the chance) and played cards on Saturdays. As for her children, they spent Saturday nights with their father, who recently became employed once again and suddenly wanted them back in his life on a more consistent basis, and on Thursday, she sent them to a weekly church youth program. Having just been confirmed, Vivian went somewhat reluctantly, but her sense of responsibility for Dale helped Leta to get them both out of the house. Besides, Vivian was elected secretary of the Luther League, the youth spiritual and activities group of their church and felt it part of her role as a youth leader in the church. Although they arrived home long before their mother or stepfather, they were perfectly capable of getting to bed on their own.

The other days of the week were hardly bearable. Ora continued his vicious, slovenly and disrespectful habits. Having reconnected with his father, Dale began to rebel against Ora’s authoritarian and wildly inconsistent attitude. Vivian was losing her sense of independence and becoming clingy. There were times when Leta would excuse herself from them and lock herself in the bedroom for a few moments of peace.

Leech provided the sympathetic ear she needed at the time, and she had many instances and reasons for being unhappy. By the middle of their second month of conversations, he began to gently urge her to make a change. He was never specific, but he told her that being unhappy prevented a person from living a fulfilling and productive life. He knew this from experience.

To be continued.

Secrets, part seven

When he first introduced himself, she nearly laughed out loud. What kind of a name is Leech? Like Ora, he wasn’t very tall, and he had crooked teeth and thinning hair with several uncontrollable wisps that floated in the air in spite of a healthy dose of Brylcream. His face and hands were so pale that they had a kind of yellow sheen to them, and she wondered if he wasn’t suffering from jaundice. What appealed to her, however, was what she called his cockeyed smile. When he smiled, his large, oval head seemed to shift more on one side than the other. One eye would open wider, the mouth would turn crooked and he would raise one eyebrow. He even tilted his head a little bit.

The first time he smiled in that way, he also tipped his hat to her, and she thought of her thirteen-year-old son Dale. He, too, had a slightly large oval head, which he cocked to the left when he smiled. And Leta was at a disadvantage. Dale’s needs were weighing heavily on her mind that evening. Her husband Ora was between house painting jobs, the weather was unpleasant which kept him from his usual wanderings, and Dale was having a particular difficult time with a larger classmate at school. That afternoon Ora had been after the boy from the time that he arrived home from school. Dale was in a poor mood and slammed the door, which awoke his stepfather, who had been napping on the couch. Waking Ora in such a way, Leta and both of her children had learned, always resulted in raised voices and some sort of punishment. In this case, Dale initially suffered through having to go back and forth through the door over two dozen times before appeasing Ora’s demand that he do it properly. However, Dale was not satisfied with the repetition or the result and slammed his bedroom door right after. This caused Ora to rise from the couch and charge to the bedroom.

While Leta could not be considered a lenient mother, she did allow her children to have interior locks on their bedroom doors. Having had their lives disrupted several times in their young lives, she wanted them to have some sense of safety. When they moved in with Ora after the marriage, she had locks installed on all three bedroom doors. Ora hated it, mostly because she hid the spare keys to the children’s bedrooms from him.

After the door slamming altercation, Dale had stormed into his bedroom and locked the door behind him. Ora twisted the handle several times and yelled for the boy to open it, but Dale refused to respond. Unsatisfied, Ora stomped into the kitchen where Leta was cooking their supper and demanded that she give him the key.

“I’ll take care of it,” Leta said calmly, as she stirred the simmering stew.

“This is my house, Leta,” Ora declared, “and I won’t have that kind of behavior in it.”

“I’ll take care if it,” Leta repeated.

“You spoil them kids,” her husband charged. “You let them get away with everything.”

“Ora,” she said, “I’m sure there’s an explanation. You know he’s having trouble with some other boy at school.” Then she changed the subject. “The rain’s stopped. Why don’t you take a little walk, about fifteen minutes, and when you come home I’ll have supper on the table?”

Ora grunted. He was too lazy to remain for long at a high energy level, and was beginning to calm down.

“Fine,” he said, and then added, “But he gets no supper tonight. Do you hear me?”

Finally she faced him. “Yes, I hear you.”

While she registered calm and certainty, she wanted to slap her husband across his contorted face. She simply wanted him away from her.

Four hours later, she was sitting at her usual table in the speakeasy and talking to Mr. Leech Hoose.

To be continued.