Bookends
By Shotzette and Missy

1996
By Missy

"Help...Me..."

Laverne Kosnoski patted her stepdaughter's arm in mock-comfort, "Awww, Skye, how much can a wedding cost?"

"Last time I checked?" The young blonde asked wearily, raising her head from a pile of magazines and binders, "Several hundred thousand." Her words were punctuated by the sound of an ice-cream scoop clattering to a counter and her father's shocked, slack jawed expression. "Oh, Dad, I'm not going to ask you to pay for it! It's the nineties! Brides pay for themselves now!"

Lenny shook his head, dropping his scoop into the dishwasher before placing a new, clean one to service, "We're gonna help with some of it, Punkin." He announced, and Laverne nodded her head emphatically.

Skye sighed, "You guys just finished paying for my college education. It isn't right for me to ask for some huge, elaborate thing," She turned a page over in a binder of wedding gowns, wincing at a particularly garish example of bridehood, "I'm not even sure I want that."

"Well, you have to ask yourself what you and Brandon want." Laverne suppressed a grin as Lenny rolled his eyes at the mention of Brandon's name.

Skye had met Brandon Davis while interning with a record company during her sophomore year with Cal State; a fellow intern with more tattoos than career opportunities and long brown hair. His dream, stated over Thanksgiving dinner that year, was to own a record store one day.

He was, clearly, not good enough for Lenny Kosnoski's little girl.

Laverne disagreed; Brandon had ambition, at the least, and was very funny, and, additionally, quite good to Skye. But for Lenny it was another example of having to let go of a woman he loved.

Still, neither of them railed against Skye's choice; hadn't they been through similar prejudices, thrown at them by everyone from Shirley to their own foolish pride? No, they weren't going to stand in the way of their little girl's love affair. But Lenny almost fell to his knees with an hallelujah when Brandon landed an entry-level position with Capitol Records straight out of college. Skye, who had graduated near the top of her class with a degree in marketing, had worked her way up the corporate ladder and, thanks to two promotions within a year's time, had made several magazines as one of the fastest-rising female employees within the music industry.

"Brandon wants to get married where we met." Skye said.

Lenny grinned, "In the mail room at the Capitol Records building?"

Skye nodded, her nose wrinkling up, "One of the worst jobs I ever had. I think I'd rather get married in a wheat field."

Laverne laughed, "Lemme guess: Karen's idea?"

Skye nodded, "With flowers woven in my hair, and an organic carrot cake and a guru presiding."

Laverne smiled, "She means well." She announced, even though Lenny felt she didn't.

Skye decided to get off the subject of her biological mother as quickly as possible, "I want something in the middle," She sighed, "Not really flowery but not too traditional." She smiled, dreamily, "Like yours and Dad's wedding."

Laverne grinned; she and Lenny had had one heck of a storybook ceremony, but Skye, who had participated in the ceremony at four years of age, probably had a romantic, inflated image of how wonderful it had really been.

After examining options that ranged from flying back to Milwaukee and being married by Father Gucci to having the ceremony in Disneyland, they finally settled on a lovely event on the beach. It had been a small, intimate affair; their fathers had attended, along with Rhonda, Squiggy, his new wife and infant son. Carmine faltered between showing up and giving excuses; when he did arrive, it was an hour late and on the arm of a famous Hollywood actress. They trailed security guards and a helicopter believing that Carmine was the lucky groom along with them. Chuck had shown up unannounced, and, reluctantly, been admitted to the ceremony. Edna and Frank, putting aside their usual differences, had walked the proud bride down an aisle made out of sand.

Shirley's invitation had bounced back, stamped return-to-sender. When she dropped Laverne a line from Africa the next month, it was to exclaim how sorry she was for giving her the wrong address, it severed something within Laverne's heart. They were cordial friends now, but the desperate, clinging intimacy between the two of them had been replaced by something quieter.

Some days, she missed their old camaraderie. But that emotion was swiftly replaced by something more bittersweet.

She would not trade these new days for the old.

A fudge sundae sliding into place before her thoughtful mug awoke her from a trance; Lenny's lean form scooted into place beside her in the booth, and Skye ravenously tore into the desert.

Lenny grinned, "Ice cream," He said, "Takes care of everything." He handed his wife two spoons and a gigantic dish of chocolate ice cream. Laverne's response was a grateful peck on the lips, followed by a phalanx of goose bumps and a pleasant shiver.

Skye laughed aloud at her two rather quaint parents; it had always been evident that they loved one another quite a lot. They couldn't, however, possibly feel that bolt of lightning that seemed to wring her insides whenever she touched Brandon.

Who was she trying to kid? They probably did. She just didn't want to think about it.

Halfway through her sundae, Skye's face lit up.

"The Soccer field!"

"Huh?" Her parents asked, simultaneously, as they were wont to do. They had lived in a time where chocolate anything was a rare treat. It was hard for Skye to believe that her parents had been so poor, but plausible when she looked at old snapshots. She gave an exasperated sigh, a holdover from her teenage rebellion.

"Brandon and I really fell in love when we taught youth soccer together during spring break," Skye smiled, "It's perfect! Brandon and I'll rent a tent...I'll wear a pantsuit...We'll get the Skuzz Mops to play it.." She folded her hands together, enraptured by her realization. "And, Dad, do you think we could have the reception here?"

Amusement teased Laverne's soul; in one deft stroke, Skye had blended her dreams with her father's, stepmother's, future husband's and biological mother's, and was actually happy with the results. A girl who couldn't keep an organized apartment and probably couldn't find her new kitten among the rabble could commandeer a plan and make it work in five seconds.

In other words, she looked like her father and thought like her stepmother.

Lenny jubilantly agreed to host the reception, happy to be involved, somehow, and still aware that he was going to be the one giving away his little girl. Life was bittersweet, generally; Laverne was two years away from the official deadline that would force her into retirement, or else sacrifice the retirement fund she'd put half of her hard-earned money into for years.

A retired Laverne didn't seem like a possibility to Lenny. She, a woman so full of life and energy, was not the type to sit around on her laurels for years on end.

Not that she would get any rest, with the twins around.

They had been suitably shocked when Laverne discovered her pregnancy. Pregnant at forty-six?! It had seemed some impossibility to the two of them, but it had been a gigantic biological reality, and Laverne had joined many women of her generation in giving birth later in life. Their sons, Frank and Andy, had been rambunctious in the womb, and were terrors from the moment they learned to walk and talk.

Skye had adjusted rather nicely to the change; most fourteen-year-olds would not have enjoyed the presence of manic and identical twin boys in her life, but Skye loved children and, though there was a natural, healthy amount of sibling strife in their household, it wasn't anything above what was expected.

Lenny smiled around a mouthful of chocolate ice cream. They were a convenient excuse to pin a messy room on, after all.

Nine years had passed since they boys had been born; Laverne had gone into menopause when the boys were five, signifying both the beginning of a new period in their lives and the gradual reality that that the boys would not acquire any more siblings. Everything happens for a reason, Lenny thought to himself, and, indeed, thanks to a still-vital Edna, the boys wanted for no attention. Any more kids would have been problematic for the whole family.

Didn't mean he wouldn't yearn now and again for a bigger family. Usually a temporary emotion.

The best part about owning his own business were the flexible hours. A typical day usually saw him sending them off to school in the morning, work all afternoon keeping college kids, tourists, and seniors filled to the gills with ice cream, watching over them all afternoon from the moment Edna delivered them to the store (and he firmly believed that one Pepsi Float a day could only help them), locking up at nine and meeting a usually-exhausted Laverne at the door with some take-out. On a day as unusual as this particular one, Edna would baby-sit the boys while Lenny and Laverne got some quiet alone time. He realized that she could probably tell from their relaxed expressions and mussed clothing that they'd done more than take in a movie at the local drive-in.

For Lenny, the teenage courtship they had been denied was suddenly brought to life. They cavorted in the Trans Am he'd only dreamed about in his youth; did things he'd fantasized about but never gotten to do at sixteen.

Skye continued to think out loud, jotting copious notes out on a legal pad, "I want the boys to be in the wedding party. I'm not going to ask them both to be ring-bearers, but I actually think I'd rather have them in my bridal party," She smirked wryly, "I don't know if they'd appreciate that."

"Don't make them wear dresses and they won't care," Lenny teased.

Skye sighed elaborately, "I think that's it." She dropped her sharpie, slumping in her seat with her usual, laid-back attitude. "And I'm going to come in under a thousand!"

Laverne squeezed her hand, gently, as Lenny got up and strolled over to the jukebox, "Your dad and I are really proud of you, Skye."

Skye smiled, wearily, "Thanks, Mom." She sighed, watching her father punch out a number on the jukebox, "I don't think he's going to handle giving me away very well. We both know he's going to take it very literally."

"Don't worry," Laverne encouraged, "He know you won't be more than a phone call away from him."

"More importantly," She squeezed Laverne's hand, "He's always going to have you."

Laverne smiled, her response silent but confirming. She realized that this would be their true constant, for the rest of their lives. He had held the opportunity to walk away from their family, but could not, and nothing could have moved Laverne. The forever-togetherness didn't frighten her anymore; commitment no longer did.

A gentle rhythm pulsed from the jukebox; a song that was theirs pouring into the air. Slim fingers came to rest upon her shoulder. She looked up, into blue eyes.

"Wanna dance?"

She smiled, taking his offered hand. He walked her over to the tiny dance floor, crafted to lie before the stage. In the slim space, they swayed, as the teenage couple they'd never been.

His heartbeat vibrated through his clothing, into her ear; she felt wholly alive in his embrace, as she never really had with another man. She never could get enough of him; so surprising, since she liked variety, creative impulse.

Her eyes scanned the little parlor her husband had poured his heart into after Lou died. They had been fortunate that the man's daughters had sold the property so cheaply. The space called out for revolution, change. And an idea formed behind her eyes.

"Len," She said suddenly, "Do you think the city would zone us for more room?"

Lenny pulled away from his wife, looking into her eyes; they communicated, as they had for thirty years, without extra words getting in the way, "You think we could put an oven in the back?"

She smiled, "It doesn't take that much room," She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him, "It's been awhile since I made pizza, but I bet it's one of those things you don't forget."

Lenny buried his nose in his wife's auburn hair. Her eyes were filled with the same wildfire they'd held after her first week with the Ajax Aerospace.

She still had dreams. So did he. And, for as long as you dream, you cannot die.

FIN




To Snow On Redwoods

To Fifths













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