Jake LeFleur (nee Jeanbon, but no one called him that, except old country mere and grandmere called him that, not if you didn’t want as much corner boy trouble as you could handle, maybe more. Jake, like many French-Canadian (F-C) next generation guys wanted none of that old country patios-church bow down-poor boy from hunger stuff but to be a pure vanilla American be-bop daddy and bon this and bon that was not part of the program, not against the Downeast Yankee and Irish toughs) had it bad, had it bad as a man (young man, okay, twenty-three) could have it for a girl (oops, young woman, twenty-two) and still be able to breath, breath normally.
And she, Marnie Capet she, the object of one Jake LeFleur’s palsied breath, knew that hard fact, and depended on it for a time to keep Jake in that state.But before you say “dames what can you do with them, or without them” like all of Jake’s corner boys whom he hung around with in front of Jimmy Jake’s Diner I (run by Jacques Jean LeBlanc who had enough sense to anglo-up the names of his establishments, that one on Atlantic Avenue, number II, for the touristas and blue-haired lady luncheon specials and the one on Main Street, number I, that catered to the younger set, and that had a be-bop bop jukebox with every possible tune for the music hungry young to deposit their three for a quarter selections in) said every time they heard the latest installment of the Marnie leading Jake by the nose saga hear her side. Then, perhaps, you will not worry so much about the how and whys of Jake’s breathing.
Marnie, for all the world to know, for all the important world to know in 1958 in Olde Saco, Maine, and that meant her friends, her friends known since high school, if not before, now mainly working alongside of her in the front offices of the MacAdams Textile Mills which drove the town’s economy, her girls, whom she hung around on Friday and Saturday nights in front of, guess, Jimmy Jake’s Diner (the one on Main Street, naturally) , had been minding her own business when one Jake LeFleur came swooping down on her a few months before. And she would swear on a stack of seven, hell, seventy sealed bibles (as all her “corner girls” would attest to after they had heard the latest installment of the Jake leading Marnie by the nose saga) that she had no intention of finding herself riding in Jake’s ’55 two-toned souped-up Chevy after a few minutes of Jake smooth talk. But she did, although she would also swear, at least for public consumption, that she had a problem breathing when she found herself in that position (or later in more intimate positions, as she would slyly allude to when describing her latest tryst date with Jake.)
But at some point Jake, or maybe Marnie, it was never clear, discovered two things, one, that Jake was crazier about Marnie that she was about him, and, two, more importantly , Marnie was taking more than a few peeks at a new boy in town, Bernie Albert, who if one could believe this, had neither a car, hot or otherwise, nor had the least inclination to hang around Jimmy Jake’s Diner (I or II) because he was crazy for the sea, and crazy for writing stuff about the sea once he found the best spots over at Olde Saco Beach (naturally later including the exclusive lovers’lane hot spot at the Seal Rock end).
Bernie came in like a breath of fresh air and before long one did not see Marnie Capet riding, front seat riding, in any funny old ’55 Chevy. She was breathing the sea air down at the beach after walking there with Bernie. She had decided that she had one chance at getting out from under that secretarial job at the mill, getting out from under Jake-or-name-the-car-crazy-guy cruising Main Street, getting out from under hanging in front of Jimmy Jake’s (number and then, inevitably blue-haired number II like her mother and her weekly friends luncheon) with her girls discussing what to play next on that damn jukebox, getting out under from under about six kids and money enough to support only about two, and getting out, well, just getting out from under.
Now the tale turns back to Jake though, Jake of the thousand ‘chicken run’ victories(for the clueless that is two guys, two corner boys guys usually, and usually from different corners, going one on one in their respective automobiles at two in the morning, or thereabouts , down at that previously mentioned Seal Rock end of Olde Saco Beach to decide who was the max daddy of the boss car night, simple), Jake of the hard boy corner boy society in front of Jimmie Jake’s Diner I (who once chain- whipped a guy, a guy from the corner in front of Mama’s Pizza Parlor, just for being, no, breathing on his corner without permission), spurned Jake.
And before you wonder what chain-whip, slice and dice, run over with his car hell our boy Jake was going to rain down on one Bernie Albert for “stealing “his Marnie (a serious matter in po’ boy Olde Saco where your property girl meant something, especially twenty-something which meant marriage and those six kids Marnie was fretting over was your fate) you should know this. Not only did you not see Marnie riding in that Chevy, that boss Chevy as anyone in town, anyone that counted would have told you, meaning the habitués of Jimmy Jake’s I but you did not see Jake riding around either. If you can believe this, Jake was still carrying a big torch for Marnie and had taken to his room to write her a letter begging her to come back. And since he was not a scholar like Bernie, and since he wanted to note her upcoming birthday he played the Tune Weavers’Happy, Happy Birthday Baby to help him through task, and settle his uneasy breathing.
P.S. Marnie made good career choice, well eventually she did, in the short term she fell back to the Olde Saco F-C ethos and ten generations of same old, same old and let Jake’s birthday letter sway her. So for a few weeks you again saw Marnie Capet tight-ass against Jake in his Chevy. And Bernie walking solo down at Olde Saco Beach. Then mad Jake go the smart idea that Bernie, like that other unfortunate mentioned previously, needed a chain-whipping to restore order the universe. Bernie took his beating like a man everyone agreed, and Jake took his nickel’s worth up at Shawshank. Bernie and Marnie were married in 1960 after Bernie finished graduate school at Bowdoin. 
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