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Authors: Iris Jones Simantel
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or
so, I was able to relax. When we left, he told me he was taking me for a ride to give me
some more cool air. We drove to the Lake Michigan shore, where we parked the car and sat
on a bench in the shade, chatting for a while. Then he went and spoiled it all.
‘Ya know, kid, I’ve become very
attracted to you. I’d like to make love to you.’
What? Oh, no, I thought. What in the world
is he talking about? By now, I was visibly pregnant: how could he possibly be attracted
to me, and what was I supposed to say? So, I did the only thing I could. I laughed right
in his face. ‘You really had me going there for a minute, Harry. I thought you
were serious,’ I said.
‘I’m dead serious, kid. I think
I’m falling in love with you.’
I couldn’t stop laughing, but the look
on his face told me I’d hurt him. Did he think I was interested in him, or was he
trying to take advantage of me? I didn’t know. Then, stifling my laughter, I
suddenly knew what to say. ‘Harry,’ I began, ‘you know what your
problem is? You have a thing for pregnant women. Now, let’s get back to work
before someone thinks there really is something going on between us.’ Neither of
us ever mentioned the incident again, but every time I looked at him, I wanted to slap
him for being so stupid.
With the record heat of that summer, I would
go into the ice-cream storage rooms at work and sit on top of the chest freezers, or I
would ask Harry to place a huge blockof dry ice in front of a fan to
blow a bit of cool air on me. At home, I would strip off and sit in a bath of cool
water, and at night I slept naked on the cool marble bathroom floor. Sometimes, in the
evening, when I was tearful and desperate, we would take a blanket down to North Avenue
Beach on Lake Michigan and lie on the sand for hours. Occasionally, finances permitting,
we would find a cinema with air-conditioning and sit there until closing time. I had
been miserable before, but now I was sure that the summer heat was going to finish me
off. All I wanted was to go home to England but, of course, I couldn’t tell anyone
that.
When I was six or seven months pregnant, Bob
surprised me with a day out at the Indiana sand dunes. It was a beautiful place, crowded
on that hot sunny day. Once we were on the beach it seemed cooler and I settled in for
the first comfortable day I’d had for weeks. A non-swimmer, I waded in the cool
water while Bob swam and floated, enjoying every minute of it. We had a simple picnic
lunch and afterwards I settled back for a snooze. I must have slept for a long time
because Bob had to wake me to get ready for the long drive home. When I tried to stand
up, I couldn’t bend my legs. In fact, I felt stiff all over.
Eventually, Bob got me back to the car and
we realized I had been in the sun far too long and was severely burned. I became so ill
that he had to take me to a hospital emergency room. We also called Dr Crown, who was
furious that we had allowed it to happen, but also worried. He told us there
wasn’t much we could do because of my pregnancy, which was exactly what the
emergency-room staff had told us. We should just keep applying cold compresses and
lotion. I certainly couldn’t take anything forthe pain and,
believe me, there was plenty of it: the blistering was severe and took for ever to heal.
I swore then that I would never again lie in the sun.
It wasn’t just the record high
temperatures that made the summer of 1955 nightmarish: it was also the year of the
cicada invasion, and what a freaky experience that was. I had heard of locusts laying
waste to places in Africa, but I hadn’t expected such a thing to occur in Chicago.
I had never heard of cicadas before, but now swarms of them filled the air and covered
the trees, and the sound they made was deafening. It was most unpleasant going outside
in the morning and having to walk on a carpet of dead ones or maybe it was their empty
shells: the crunching sounded as if I was treading on
so, I was able to relax. When we left, he told me he was taking me for a ride to give me
some more cool air. We drove to the Lake Michigan shore, where we parked the car and sat
on a bench in the shade, chatting for a while. Then he went and spoiled it all.
‘Ya know, kid, I’ve become very
attracted to you. I’d like to make love to you.’
What? Oh, no, I thought. What in the world
is he talking about? By now, I was visibly pregnant: how could he possibly be attracted
to me, and what was I supposed to say? So, I did the only thing I could. I laughed right
in his face. ‘You really had me going there for a minute, Harry. I thought you
were serious,’ I said.
‘I’m dead serious, kid. I think
I’m falling in love with you.’
I couldn’t stop laughing, but the look
on his face told me I’d hurt him. Did he think I was interested in him, or was he
trying to take advantage of me? I didn’t know. Then, stifling my laughter, I
suddenly knew what to say. ‘Harry,’ I began, ‘you know what your
problem is? You have a thing for pregnant women. Now, let’s get back to work
before someone thinks there really is something going on between us.’ Neither of
us ever mentioned the incident again, but every time I looked at him, I wanted to slap
him for being so stupid.
With the record heat of that summer, I would
go into the ice-cream storage rooms at work and sit on top of the chest freezers, or I
would ask Harry to place a huge blockof dry ice in front of a fan to
blow a bit of cool air on me. At home, I would strip off and sit in a bath of cool
water, and at night I slept naked on the cool marble bathroom floor. Sometimes, in the
evening, when I was tearful and desperate, we would take a blanket down to North Avenue
Beach on Lake Michigan and lie on the sand for hours. Occasionally, finances permitting,
we would find a cinema with air-conditioning and sit there until closing time. I had
been miserable before, but now I was sure that the summer heat was going to finish me
off. All I wanted was to go home to England but, of course, I couldn’t tell anyone
that.
When I was six or seven months pregnant, Bob
surprised me with a day out at the Indiana sand dunes. It was a beautiful place, crowded
on that hot sunny day. Once we were on the beach it seemed cooler and I settled in for
the first comfortable day I’d had for weeks. A non-swimmer, I waded in the cool
water while Bob swam and floated, enjoying every minute of it. We had a simple picnic
lunch and afterwards I settled back for a snooze. I must have slept for a long time
because Bob had to wake me to get ready for the long drive home. When I tried to stand
up, I couldn’t bend my legs. In fact, I felt stiff all over.
Eventually, Bob got me back to the car and
we realized I had been in the sun far too long and was severely burned. I became so ill
that he had to take me to a hospital emergency room. We also called Dr Crown, who was
furious that we had allowed it to happen, but also worried. He told us there
wasn’t much we could do because of my pregnancy, which was exactly what the
emergency-room staff had told us. We should just keep applying cold compresses and
lotion. I certainly couldn’t take anything forthe pain and,
believe me, there was plenty of it: the blistering was severe and took for ever to heal.
I swore then that I would never again lie in the sun.
It wasn’t just the record high
temperatures that made the summer of 1955 nightmarish: it was also the year of the
cicada invasion, and what a freaky experience that was. I had heard of locusts laying
waste to places in Africa, but I hadn’t expected such a thing to occur in Chicago.
I had never heard of cicadas before, but now swarms of them filled the air and covered
the trees, and the sound they made was deafening. It was most unpleasant going outside
in the morning and having to walk on a carpet of dead ones or maybe it was their empty
shells: the crunching sounded as if I was treading on
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