This work is copyrighted to A Novel Life. No portion of it may be used or reproduced without the expressed and written permission of A Novel Life.

You Never Know Whose Tomorrow It Will Be

Most of the women in Elaine’s family had buried their husbands and their fortunes with the same shovel. And each had managed to keep themselves and their children afloat with a survivor’s determination and enough charm to stay surrounded by devoted loved ones.

Elaine at 25 looked upon that matriarchy as a point of pride, and sadness. With each passing her resolve and self-determination grew in equal portions to the emotional hold that developed. She missed the men in her life; the sweet grandfather who watched pigeons from his bedroom window; the quiet, contemplative father who stayed up at night doing crosswords or reading serials in the local paper. Her father’s death when she was just 20 had turned their world upside down emotionally and financially.

But on that bitter cold February evening in 1948, Elaine was enjoying the stability and contentment of family life with the man she had loved for more than a decade already. Elaine had swooned over Phil Sanders at 13, walked on eggshells while he was away at war and was even now – amidst the tedium of toddler tantrums and house-keeping – thrilled in his presence. Phil was a big man, with a body like Johnny Weismuller’s Tarzan, and the kind of chiseled good looks that girls like Elaine usually only saw on the big screen at the Paradise Theatre. Phil carried himself with the confidence of a proven athlete, which combined with his charisma, earned him the trust of his friends and, lately, a growing business clientele. And like Elaine, Phil wanted a big family – six kids at least.

They sat side by side in the basement game room of their tidy Laurelton house, watching amateur boxing on their prized seven-inch screen, black and white television. Upstairs, Carol, 5, and Michael, who had just turned 2, were in their beds.

Though the television was new, boxing had quickly become an institution in the household. Phil, a handball champion who followed all sports, loved to tune in to see how favorites Rocky Graziano and Sugar Ray Robinson were faring. A lucky and frequent gambler, Phil would have had money on the fight, no doubt. Whether he won or lost that night didn’t seem to matter. He was solemn and pragmatic as he tiptoed upstairs to bed behind Elaine. He lay down next to her, kissed her softly on the cheek, and whispered the words that would stick with her for decades to come.

“You never know whose tomorrow it will be," he whispered.

Elaine would come to see those words as a premonition. And as a guide.

Phil awoke the next morning with a pain in his arm.

Elaine called her physician cousin, Dr. Seymour S., who lived just two blocks away. Phil was quiet and tired as Seymour examined him.

“He’s had a heart attack,’’ Seymour said. “Give him these pills while I call an ambulance. We’ll get him into the hospital for more tests.”

He gave Elaine a prescription and left her and Phil alone with Florence, who was pacing the room. Florence loved Phil like a son. Each morning, she would bring him orange juice in bed and put his socks on his feet. Grasping to reassure her frantic daughter, Florence took Elaine’s hand.

“He’s tired,’’ she said. “Let him sleep.”
But Elaine stayed by the bed.

“I hope I can live until Mike’s Bar Mitzvah,’’ Phil said, closing his eyes. Moments later, his head drooped to his chest. A clot had hit his brain and he was gone.

“What’s the matter?” Elaine screamed, panicking.

“He’s just sleeping,’’ Her mom replied.

“No, he’s not sleeping,’’ Elaine cried out, racing toward the door. She ran outside onto 224th Street and around the corner to Merrick Road where she ran into one of the police officers who were responding to a neighbor’s distress call. “Help,” she begged, leading him into the house. “My husband is dying.”

They raced back to Phil’s side together, but there was nothing the police or anyone else could do. Phil was dead. Elaine was the next widow in the family and her fate forever changed. It wasn’t until after the policeman had left that Elaine realized Phil’s wristwatch was gone, slipped quietly into the policeman’s pocket before he left the bedroom.


This work is copyrighted to A Novel Life. No portion of it may be used or reproduced without the expressed and written permission of A Novel Life.