Marty's Story

This is a prequel to my story for the Wine and Old Lace Event in December 2019, entitled "It Was Just Supposed To Be A Summer Job." It could probably hold up on its own, but I think it might be a better read if you read that story first to get the lay of the land, so to speak.

I need to again thank BlackRandl1958 for pushing me into new ground with that story, thus bringing me to this one. GeorgeAnderson's appreciation of the Marty character in his comment on that story got me the rest of the way here.

"So why does it have to be you, Marty?" Henry Tanner asked his son with more than a little exasperation in his voice. "You're only 19. You've got your whole life ahead of you.

"This isn't just a big step, Marty. It's a HUGE step, and for a girl who in the end is nothing more than a friend at best. You can't be serious!"

Marty watched his father pace in front of him for a few seconds. His mother, Alberta, sat at one end of the kitchen table sobbing quietly, with a handkerchief to her face. He would get no relief from her. Ultimately, this was the first big test, he thought. If he could handle his parents... his father... he could handle anybody.

"Because I'm the only one that can do it, Dad," he said quietly but firmly. "I can take the shit, Dad, and this kid will grow up right because I'll be there to love it and show it the right way to do things... like you've always taught me."

"But Marty, you won't be able to fight your way out of every scrape. We know you're strong, Son, but sometimes it's going to be about strength of character, not physical strength. Maybe if this was 1971, or 1991, but it's not. This is 1951, and raising a mixed-race child here in New York isn't going to be easy," Henry said.

"I know, Dad. Trust me, I've thought about nothing but this for two weeks. I know in my heart it's the right thing to do. I won't let myself down, and I certainly won't let my child down," Marty answered.

"From your mouth to God's ears, Marty," his mother said through her tears.

Marty got up from the kitchen table, left the Tanners' small apartment and walked two blocks to another small apartment. He climbed two flights of stairs, and knocked on the third door on the right. It was the apartment of Solomon and Esther Gabor and their youngest daughter, Naomi. The other three Gabor children had all married and left home, like Marty's older brother and sister had already done.

At first glance, Naomi Gabor looked like any other teenager of Eastern European descent, until one got to her midsection. Yes, she had the slightly darker, ruddy skin, and large brown eyes, but not all single teenagers of Eastern European descent had a four-month-old baby growing inside their bodies. She answered the door, gave Marty a silent nod, took him by his hand and led him into the apartment. Naomi's father, seated in a straight-backed chair in the living room, got to his feet to shake the younger man's hand. Naomi's mother stayed seated in her chair as Marty nodded to her and acknowledged her by her name, "Mrs. Gabor." The pair of teens then sat on the empty sofa.

Marty took a couple of longer breaths, then raised his head and looked directly at Solomon Gabor.

"I'd like to ask for your permission to marry your daughter, sir," Marty said crisply and clearly.

"I'll be damned!" Solomon Gabor exclaimed in little more than a stage whisper. "He's as meshuggah as she is!"

"Why the hell would a nice boy like you want to do something as crazy as marry my slut of a daughter!" Solomon yelled as the veins in his neck and forehead stood out.

Marty jumped up and assumed a defensive fighting pose, but Solomon stayed in his chair.

"You know you won't be able to beat up everybody who says something or makes a snide remark, kid. Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"

Marty relaxed and sat back down, looking a little sheepish.

"Yes, I do, sir; at least I think I do."

Marty swallowed hard and took a couple of deep breaths trying to get himself completely under control.

"However, I take exception with you calling your daughter a slut. She made a mistake with someone she thought she was in love with, and thought he'd return that love. What's done is now done, and I'd appreciate you not calling the woman who is going to be my wife a slut."

Solomon quietly just shook his head.

"And with a black man. Why not at least a white guy, for God's sake? Someone at least the same color."

"I'd bet you his parents would be asking him the same question ... if he told them anything about the baby at all. For most teenage guys, it's not about color. It's all about... sex," Marty said after realizing he couldn't use the kind of language he was thinking of in front of Naomi's family.

"It's not about the color here," Marty said, tapping his left hand with his right. "It's about the color here," he finished, tapping his heart with his right hand.

"And that's the same color for all of us."

Solomon and his wife, Esther, looked at each other, then back to the young man sitting on the sofa with their daughter. Solomon took a long drag of his Kent cigarette, and slowly blew the smoke out his nose. His wife looked at him nervously. Everyone in the room could see the wheels turning in Solomon's head.

"Okay, I'll give my blessing to this marriage, but you've got to promise me, Marty... solemn promise, that if this doesn't work you won't go out in a blaze of stupidity. We'll make sure Naomi won't fight a divorce, if it comes to that, but you won't be speaking ill of her or humiliating her in public. Do I have your promise?"

Marty immediately rose to his feet and stuck out a meaty hand for Solomon Gabor to shake. Solomon looked from the hand to the young man's eyes, then back to the hand again. He rose, and the two men sealed the deal with a firm handshake. Solomon resisted the urge to wince in pain, as Marty's right forearm and hand were extremely well-muscled from him using a cleaver working in a butcher shop for the last three years.

Marty headed to the Gabor's front door, and Naomi followed closely behind. As he pushed the screen door open, Naomi gently pulled Marty's large right bicep back to her. He stopped and turned around, facing his bride-to-be and looking deeply into her large brown eyes.

"I don't have the words to thank you properly," she whispered to him. "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Marty blushed, and headed out the door.

The two were wed in a small Jewish ceremony in the near-by synagogue, with just family and a few close friends invited. They soon moved into a small apartment just three blocks away from Marty's parents' apartment, and four blocks from Naomi's parents' apartment in the Bronx. Marty continued working at a butcher shop in Brooklyn, while Naomi tended to their small apartment.

At first, the newlyweds' lived with Naomi's parents, but on their wedding night they stayed in a small hotel so they could at least have a semblance of privacy. While neither Marty at 19, nor Naomi at 18, was a virgin, Marty had never had sex with a pregnant woman before, and hesitated repeatedly, afraid to hurt the baby. Only when Naomi reaffirmed for the third time that the baby wouldn't be harmed, did the pair engage in very halting sex.

Naomi didn't have an orgasm as Marty was way too gentle for that, even holding back when he finally came. Marty could see the look of disappointment on his bride's face, so after a minute of rest he slowly started to slide down Naomi's body until his face was planted squarely over her sex. He then stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and slurped upward on her pussy, tasting both of their juices. Naomi, never having had that done to her before, erupted in a body-shaking climax, yelling out Marty's name as she came. Marty continued licking until Naomi finally stopped shaking about a minute later, then he peaked at her over the small bump of her baby belly. She looked in his general direction with glazed over eyes.

"What do you call that?" Naomi asked breathlessly.

"I'd call that the sweetest thing I ever ate," Marty answered back as he smiled at her.

"Wow!"

Marty dove back in at that point, bringing his bride to three more strong orgasms in the next 15 minutes before stopping and resting his head on her left leg.

"Where did you learn how to do that, Mr. Tanner?" Naomi asked in a dreamy state.

"Never ask questions that you really don't want the answers to, Mrs. Tanner," Marty responded playfully. "Let's just say I have a lot of skills, and if you let me, I will gladly show them all to you over time."

Naomi just smiled back before putting her head back down on the pillow.

Marty and Naomi had known each other since he was 11 and she was 10. The apartment buildings they lived in, in the Bronx, were just a couple of blocks apart, and they went to the same elementary, junior high and high schools. They had some common friends, but didn't run in the same circles very often. Marty started working in a butcher shop in the area at 16, and didn't have that much free time. Still, Naomi was aware of the dark-haired, handsome Marty, the same way he was aware that Millie Gabor's younger sister was pretty with light brown hair and big boobs.

Through the years, the two had talked, and Naomi was impressed by Marty's quiet intelligence. He was especially adept at math, and could add long columns of numbers in his head. She knew he was of Austrian descent, and sometimes got in trouble for skipping classes before he graduated the previous year. She also knew that when he began to work at the butcher shop, his arms and chest started gaining a lot of muscle. Carrying large pieces of hanging meat was paying off in strength and size, and several of the teenage girls in the area took notice of him.

The youngest of four children, Naomi was of Russian descent. Her father, who was born in Russia, was known to be a strict taskmaster who spoke five languages despite only having a fifth-grade formal education. The real strength of the family was his wife, Esther, who quietly drew people to her like moths to a flame. Esther was known to be a fantastic cook and hostess, despite the family's meager income, and everyone who went away from the Gabors' table after a meal left with a smile on their faces.

Like most of New York City, the Bronx had a mix of all races and religions, although in the 1940s and 1950s most social groups contained very few people of different colors. Ellis Robinson, and his younger sister, Gayle, were the only two non-whites in the loosely-knit social group to which Marty and Naomi belonged. Unlike some of the more shy boys, Ellis had no problems talking with the girls in the group. He was a handsome boy of Jamaican descent, with dark skin and a ready smile. He was a favorite of many of the girls in the group, the same way his pretty outgoing sister was a favorite of many of the boys in the group.

Ellis Robinson noticed that Naomi Gabor had eclipsed her older sister in looks when she was about 15, but Millie was by far the more outgoing sister. Naomi was quiet and often hung back in groups, especially after her sister married her longtime boyfriend and they left the group. Over the years, Ellis had gotten closer to the younger Gabor, and a few weeks later, he asked her out on a date to a diner and then a movie. Naomi accepted, and after that the pair became an item of sorts. A few of the others thought less of Naomi for dating a black man, but most just went about their own business. Neither Ellis nor Naomi told their parents they were dating someone of a different race.

Ellis finally broke down Naomi's defenses and got her to have sex several months later. The two continued to find places to go for the occasional tryst until four months later, when Naomi missed her period. A very worried Naomi broke the news to Ellis about a week later.

"Do you know someone who can get rid of it for you?" Ellis asked.

Naomi looked shocked at what he was suggesting. She started to tear up.

"Can't we just get married and have the baby? You said you loved me," Naomi sniffled.

"I was trying to get into your pants. I would have said I loved Dwight Eisenhower if that would have helped me get you into bed. You don't actually think I meant that?

"Look, I might know someone who might be able to get rid of it for you..."

"I'm not going to some baby butcher. So you're telling me you don't love me, and you won't support our baby?"

"I can barely support myself," Ellis replied. "Been out of school two years and still working at the produce market. You going to come live with me in my bedroom at my parents' house? I don't think so."

Naomi turned to leave.

"You let me know if you need help paying to get rid of it," Ellis called after her.

Two weeks later on a Sunday afternoon in late October, Marty was walking across the schoolyard on his way home after working at the butcher shop until noon. There were several groups of boys playing basketball, and several groups of boys and girls watching. Marty noticed Naomi standing off to the side, by herself, looking as if she was working out a math problem in her head, he thought to himself. If that was the case, maybe he could help her since he was good at math when he was in school.

"Got a problem in your head, Littlest Gabor?" Marty said as he walked over to Naomi.

Naomi didn't respond until she jumped when Marty came right up to her.

"Wh... what are you doing here!" she shrilled at him.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he responded. "I just asked if you had a problem stuck in your head, but you apparently didn't hear me."

"Oh yeah, I've got a big problem stuck in my head, but I don't think you can help me with it," Naomi replied.

"Why not give me a shot? I'm pretty good at math, you know. Maybe someday if I can scrape some money together, I'll go to college and be an accountant."

"It's not a math problem, Marty, and you have as much chance of helping me with it as I do to live happily every after, especially after I tell my parents..."

Naomi started to cry at that point, catching Marty completely by surprise. At 19, he could already break down a half of beef with the most talented of butchers, but handling a crying woman was not a skill he possessed. He stared at her blankly for about 10 seconds, then did the only thing he could think of, pulling her to him and wrapping his strong arms tightly around her. Naomi sobbed into his jacket for another 30 seconds before finally composing herself and pulling back.

"You know, even if it's not a math problem, maybe a I can still help. At least I can listen, and I don't see a line of people over here waiting to do that," Marty said quietly but firmly.

Naomi looked up at Marty's smiling, handsome face. She sensed that even though they weren't close friends, he would still listen attentively, at least. As for having an actual solution... well let's just say that Jews don't believe in Christmas miracles.

The pair walked around the schoolyard together as Naomi told Marty about her pregnancy and Ellis' dismissal of her and the baby. Every now and then she glanced at Marty's eyes to gauge his reaction. Marty was mostly silent, occasionally asking a question or two. She thought to herself that she had never seen Marty this pensive.

"Have you told your parents yet?" he asked.

Naomi shook her head slowly.

"Don't. Not just yet. Let me get some answers to some questions first. I might just have a way out for you... but it won't be an easy way out, for either of us."

Naomi didn't know Marty well enough to read his face at that moment. His eyes showed fear and excitement, she guessed.

Marty knew that he was on the outskirts, so to speak, of the group that he and Naomi ran with because he had been working steadily since he was 16 and not hanging out as much. He had known Ellis, who was a year older than him, for about five years. For the most part, he liked Ellis, and unlike some, he didn't have a problem with Ellis dating a white girl. He wasn't thrilled with Ellis' attitude concerning Naomi's pregnancy and the baby. It took him a few days, but he finally tracked down Ellis on the street.

"Hey, Robbie, can we talk a minute -- man-to-man?"

"Anything for you, Marty the butcher," Ellis teased back.

"Look, I know about you and Naomi and the baby, and I know you don't want either of them. But I don't want to be stealing anything from you, so I'm asking, face-to-face, man-to-man. I need to hear it from you that you don't want either, because if you don't, I want both..."

"You'd raise my black child?" Ellis questioned. "You crazy, Marty?"

"No, I'm not crazy, and I won't raise your black child. I will marry Naomi and raise our black child. If she'll have me, I'll be the one listed on the birth certificate, and you'll officially be nothing more than a sperm donor.

"A lot of people are going to know Naomi's child is yours biologically, and I can live with that, but if I ever hear you bragging about that child being yours, or you mouthing off about Naomi or me, I'm going to hunt you down, kill you and cut up your body like I cut up chickens... and I do a lot of that, Robbie. Won't be anything to me. And a few years after that happens, the only people who are going to remember you will be your parents.

"Are we clear on this, Robbie? I mean we need to be crystal fucking clear. Got me?"

Ellis started breathing shallower while Marty was talking. He looked hard into Marty's eyes and saw real menace there.

'This is one crazy fucker,' he thought to himself in a flash. He gave Marty a quick scan, from his wide neck to his large chest in his jacket down to what looked like well-muscled legs in his chinos. Marty was only about 5 feet, 7-1/2 inches, but be looked to be a rock solid 190. Ellis might have been 6-2, but his 180 pounds wasn't going to intimidate many people, and especially not Marty. Ellis had already made his decision, and wasn't about to change his mind while facing Marty.

"You can have her... them. Don't want any fucking problems with you, Marty," Ellis said in little more than a croak.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Marty responded.

Two nights later, Marty went to the Gabors' apartment to call for Naomi. The two walked down to a local diner, where Marty bought coffee and pie for Naomi and a coffee for himself. Naomi noted that Marty appeared to be sweating, despite the two of them just walking several blocks in a brisk wind and 30-degree temperatures.

The pair made small talk until the waitress served them and left. Marty sat up straight, took a couple of deep breaths and looked Naomi directly in the eyes. He deliberately laid out the conversation he had with Ellis. Naomi's face showed fear, then disgust and finally shock.

"Whoa, slow down, Marty. Are you saying you want to marry me and raise Ellis' baby as your own?" she stage-whispered to him. "Seriously, Marty? You want to be my knight in shining armor? Why would you do that?"

"Look, I know you're a good person who just got carried away, so why should you—and the baby—have to suffer for one mistake. I can handle almost anything life can throw at me, and I promise to love both you and the baby for as long as you'll let me. Give me a chance to show you that not all guys are like Ellis."

"But Marty, if the baby comes out black... or dark at least, it's not going to be easy sometimes," she said as she dropped her eyes to her pie.

"I know, Naomi. But we can do this. Please," Marty whispered back.

"One thing, though, Marty. Do you plan to ever tell our child about his real father? He or she is going to be curious one day, particularly if he or she is darker than us."