TITLE:  Fifths

UNIVERSE/SERIES: Bookends

EPISODE: 1 of 1

RATING: PG (Adult thematic material)

PAIRING(s): L/L; OC/OC

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

 

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance/Humor/Drama

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: Between 1996 and the Epilogue in current continuity.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Marie’s fifth birthday causes Skye and Laverne to reminisce.

NOTES: Eighteenth in an open series.

 

 

****

 

Skye Davis split the vanilla layers of her daughter's cake with surgeon-like precision.  Tucking her tongue against her upper lip, she flipped the top half off of its snowy bottom and placed it gently onto a plastic Dora The Explorer serving platter.

 

Skye began to spread the exposed portion with raspberry jam - she barely had a thin coating applied when a knock sounded at her back door.  "Are you finished with your cigarette?"

 

"Wouldya let me in?"

 

"You know Marie's allergic."

 

A sigh, then the click of a pair of pumps walking up and down her concrete balcony.  She heard the glass door hiss open and smirked.

 

Marianne Ragusa tucked a lock of her soggy jet black hair behind her ear.  "Best friends don't make best friends smoke in the rain while wearing their new Blahniks."

 

Skye tried not to find humor in Marianne's dry tone.  "It was that or a whole week of forcing Marie to blow her nose."

 

Marriane huffed and clicked her way to Skye's counter.   It had been pure luck that her annual vacation had coincided with Marie's fifth birthday - and a testament to their mutual loyalty that she chose to attend instead of heading to the Calvin Kline party she'd been invited to.  Marriane realized that Skye needed every extra pair of hands she could muster and had even invited her father-in-law to come down from New Jersey to assist. 

 

When Marie had invited her entire kindergarten class to attend the shindig, her parents had not assumed that all twenty-five kids would RSPV - and went into overdrive when they did.  Despite the careful scheduling, their theme - the circus - went out the window pretty quickly when they couldn't find a clown-shaped cake pan, and Marie squealed her excitement on seeing a set of Dora The Explorer invitations.  The children had not noticed, or cared, about that - if they were having fun and being stuffed with sugar they were happy.  And, after playing Pin The Tail on The Donkey, musical chairs, and being taught how to make popsicle stick poodles, suspiciously quiet.  Skye checked the clock - in ten minutes Silly Billy would arrive, and after he finished his half-hour performance, there would be cake and ice cream.  Then, finally, the cleanup would begin. 

 

As Skye ran over her schedule, Marriane had latched onto a big copper bowl of chocolate frosting which had been sitting on the counter.  Dark eyes shining, she dunked her middle finger in and then plunked the shiny coating into her mouth.

 

"I thought you were on South Beach."

 

Her best friend never missed a trick.  "I've got cramps...." 

 

Skye gave Marriane a wise look as she retrieved the top layer of the cake.  "Don't try to fool me with clichés - you don't need a diet."

 

"Honey, you're being to nice." Marrianne poked her middle, examining non-existent fat rolling over the waistband of her black skirt.

 

"I'm being honest.  You're two pounds underweight, at least.  Want to talk about diets?  After I have this kid, I'm gonna need a diet."

 

Marriane chuckled.  "Isn't it delicious?  Our moms marched on Hollywood Boulevard for equal rights - and now that we have them, we're sitting in a kitchen and eating chocolate in four hundred dollar pumps."

 

Skye shook her head, recognizing the irony while knowing that it was inapplicable to her life and yet fully applicable to Marriane's.  From the living room, a delighted shriek sounded.

 

"Mom?  Dad?"

 

Her kitchen door swung open, and Lenny Kosnowski's head peered through the crack.  Skye broke into a fit of giggles - his face was dotted with splotches of pink and green finger paint.

 

"Do you need some face wipes?"

 

Lenny shook his head.  "How long're they supposed to keep paintin'?"

 

"Is Silly Billy here?"

 

Lenny shook his head.  "He called - he's got a flat.  Said somethin' about being fifteen minutes late."

 

Skye let out a garbled moan.

 

"Y'know, I coulda gotten your Uncle Squig to show up in his old clown costume - and he wouldn'ta charged you anything."

 

Skye shrugged.  "I love Uncle Squiggy - but putting him at the center of a group of five-year-olds is begging for a lawsuit."

 

"But he has kids - "

 

Another peal of childish laughter.

 

"What's goin' on in there?"

 

Lenny grinned.  "Oh, we ran out of paper, and I didn't know where you kept it, so..."

 

"DAD."

 

"It all washes out, right?  Right?  Skye?" His daughter pushed past him, abandoning the cake to discover what chaos her father had instigated.

 

What greeted Skye caused her to join in the revelry.

 

Laverne Kosnowski sat sleeping between two paint-splattered five-year-olds - her hands, limp upon the newspaper-covered dining table, were painted a hideously colorful bright blue and orange - and her charges had decided not to use the dozen brushes spread out before them, doing the job by hand.  All of the partygoers were spattered with one or another shade of paint - as were the adults - despite the old shirts she had given them to use as smocks.

 

The scene looked like a Jackson Pollokian orgy, and Skye muffled laughter at the tumult before her.  But Lenny couldn't follow that example, and woke Laverne up with his mirth. 

 

Skye's stepmother groaned to life, flexing her paint-coated fingers.  When she held up her left hand, Laverne let out a shriek of surprise - and the entire room joined together in amusement.  Laverne added to the laughter after a few moments. 

 

When Skye regained her composure, she headed straight to the pile of party supplies, and found another stack of construction paper hiding beneath a pile of party cups.  "Okay, boys and girls - try to keep the paint on the paper, or you won't get any cake."  She handed the stack to her father, who began to pass out the pages.

 

Cake was a magic word, and it seemed to redirect everyone's attention spans - little heads bowed to their paper and quieted the exuberant room.

 

Laverne pushed away from the table.  "I'm gonna go help."

 

"I could use it.  Marrianne, can you take mom's place for awhile?"

 

Marriane frowned.  "The paint doesn't stain, does it?  This sweater cost me two hundred - "

 

"I'll pay for your dry-cleaning bill." Skye insisted.  While she watched her friend take her stepmother's chair, Skye addressed the other so-called grown-ups in attendance.  "You boys," she indicated her father, husband, and half brothers, "can take care of things for a little while, can't you?"

 

Frankie and Andy rolled their eyes and Skye tried not to smirk at them.  She knew her fifteen-year-old brothers would rather be anywhere on a sunny Saturday but cooped up in her house, supervising a bunch of five-and-four-year-olds.  "Yes, ma'am," they chorused.

 

Then she strode to the head of the table and bent over Brandon's chair, pushing aside his light brown ponytail, then kissing his neck.  "Make sure they behave," she whispered.  Her eyes settled on Marie, holding court at the opposite end of the table and the image of her father despite her bright red hair, while she concentrated on painting a plaster elephant magnet.

 

"Yes, ma'am," he mimicked.  She smacked his shoulder before joining her stepmother in the kitchen.

 

Laverne stood by the sink, scrubbing her hands.  "Sorry I fell asleep.  We spent Sunday morning  busin' tables - guess your dad's newspaper ads are already working."

 

"It's okay," Skye returned to her cake.  "I wish you would let me help you out at L&L's..."

 

"We can handle it," Laverne insisted.

 

"You're sure?  Doing brunch on Sundays isn't too much for you guys?"

 

"We have a full wait staff and two fifteen-year-olds as backup," Laverne pointed out.  "It just got busier than usual from ten to twelve, for some reason."

 

"Yeah, but call me if you need anything."

 

Laverne watched her stepdaughter's expression change from mild annoyance to concern.  When her brow furrowed that way, she reminded Laverne of Lenny -  truthfully, a good amount of Skye was a feminine reflection of her father. 

 

"There flour on my nose?" Skye ceased spreading the filling to strike at her nostrils. 

 

"Nah.  I'm just watching you."

 

Skye smiled, returning to task.  "It doesn't feel like it's been twenty five years, does it?"

 

"It doesn't feel like it's been sixty years," Laverne admitted. 

 

"Well, you don't look almost sixty," Skye finished spreading the raspberry jam along the edge of the final layer before topping it with its brother.  "Do you remember what your fifth birthday was like?  I know all about dad's, and it's not exactly a happy story, so what about yours?"

 

"I never told you about my fifth birthday?"  Skye shook her head.  "Well..."

 

***

 

Brooklyn,

1945

 

****

 

"Laverne, bambina, sit still!"

 

The five-year-old squirmed against the puce-colored stool, her bare legs sticking to the plastic material.  "I'm gonna miss Antony!"

 

"No you won't - his mamma said she would ring our doorbell."

 

"But he said we're gonna go play stickball in the park!" Laverne pouted, picking at the white lace collar of her striped green dress.  "And I can't play it in this!"

 

Josephine released her caramel-colored ringlet from it's pointy round prison.  "Why don't you like your pretty dress, bambina?  I know your Pappa will love it, once he sees the pictures we take today!."

 

Laverne felt a sting of shame - her Papa was across the big ocean fighting in a war, and her Mamma had bought her this nice but itchy dress just so she could take a fifth birthday picture for him to look at while he was away. 

 

"The War" was something spoken about in ominous, hushed tones among the adults - Laverne only knew that it had taken her Papa away for as long as she could remember.  Aside from his mannered and dark-humored photo - which was her Mamma's most treasured possession - she held no real memories of her father at all - he had been drafted a year after Laverne's birth.  When she worried that he might not remember her when he came home, her cousin Anthony reassured that her Papa was a very nice man who would never forget someone he loved - he just yelled a lot.  Cousin Anthony could at least remember his dad, who had been recruited a year ago.

 

"Laverne, do you remember what you promised?"

 

Promise?  Laverne didn't remember any promises, but she solemnly shook her head.

 

"You said that you would try to play with the other little girls in the park this time."

 

Little girls?  There weren't any girls her age in the neighborhood, and her early birthday meant that she had been ineligible for kindergarten.  She had a few distant female cousins, but they were all babies.  Laverne understood that her Mamma wanted her to play with someone other than Anthony, but she couldn’t imagine having a better friend.  Rebellion burst from her throat.  "But Antony's bringin' Marky and Vito and Skinny Lou..."

 

Josephine's expression held censure and fondness as she removed another curler.  "Bambina, do you think girls your age should play with little boys named Skinny Lou?"

 

Laverne considered her mother's words for a moment.  "Yes."

 

The doorbell chimed, ending the conversation.  Josephine pulled a final curler free, gave her daughter's curls one last gentle pat, then helped Laverne off of the stool.  "Remember how we practiced, bamina.  Say 'hello' and 'how are you'"

 

Laverne sighed.  "Yes, mamma."  They walked together to the door, where her Cousin Antony and Aunt Do waited.

 

Antony, a wiry six-year-old brunet with a big nose and a masculine swagger, grabbed Laverne in a big hug.  "Boy, wait 'til you get to the park!  Marky found a big work, and he made Lou EAT IT!"

 

"Oh boy!  Do you think he'll eat one if I ask?"

 

"Sure!  Lou'll do anything if I tell him!"

 

Josephine sighed.  "Laverne, you promised you would..."

 

"What did you make her promise?" Aunt Do wondered.

 

Josephine had removed Laverne's grey sweater from the coat peg and knelt to button her into it.  Laverne squirmed again - she had been able to button buttons and zip zippers for six months, and wished her Mamma would let her show Antony she could.  "To try to play with the other girls."

 

Aunt Do shrugged.  "There ain't many girls in the neighborhood, Jo.  And Laverne's happy with Antony..."

 

Josephine's jaw tightened.  "Yes, Antony is a wonderful friend to my bambina." Laverne beamed angelically when her mother said so.  "But is it not good for her, to make more friends?"  She didn't notice as Laverne's features soured.  Josephine  finished buttoning the girl's sweater.  "Let's get going."

 

"Yeah," Laverne said.  She and Antony were already out the door.  "Last one there has to eat a worm!"

 

***

 

"My doll's name is Cindy.  Do you have a doll?"

 

Laverne didn't know how to respond to the neatly-combed blonde in the lacy blue sundress.  She did have dolls - her Pappa had sent a very pretty one with sleepy eyes from Germany for Christmas last year.  And it had a very happy home - in the back of the closet, behind her bat and glove.  She decided to use the truth, as her Mamma often instructed.

 

"I don't like dolls."

 

The girl scoffed.  "All girls like dolls!"

 

Laverne stood straight against the wounding of her pride.  "Not me!"

 

"Then you aren't a girl!"

 

Laverne pouted.  "I am too!  I'm wearin' a dress!  See!"  She gestured toward her frilly green skirt with frustration.

 

"So?  Maybe your mom makes you wear it to hide your tail!"

 

"I don't have a tail!"

 

"Yes you do!  She makes you wear dresses to hide it!"

 

"Stop it!  I'll hit you!"

 

"No you won't!  I'll tell!"

 

Before she could complete her sentence, Laverne's fist connected with her freckled cheek. 

 

The blonde held her left cheekbone - for a moment she looked ready to cry.  Instead, her eyes became marble-hard, and she grabbed her doll back from Laverne's dangling left hand.  "You're mean!  I'm gonna go find Kelly!"

 

Laverne watched the girl stomp away, dragging her baby doll through the freshly - grown grass.  Heck, Laverne rationalized, she had only promised to try.  She scanned the park, which was loaded with children of varying ages, celebrating the birth of spring and the first warm day since October.  She spotted her cousin Antony further up the park,  huddled by the side of a maple tree in a circle of about twenty boys.  Among the varied group of children, she recognized Lou and Marky.

 

"Hey guys!" she crossed the soft lawn doeishly, crushing it with her Mary Janes as she ran to them.  "Can I play?"

 

Antony looked up, grinning.  "Sure!  We were choosin' sides for stickball."

 

"I'm gonna be captain," Marky said firmly.

 

"OK!  I get the other team," said an older, taller red haired boy.

 

"Okay...I pick Antony!" Marky said. 

 

"I get Steve!" retorted the older boy.

 

This process continued until the group had been divided into two teams of eleven.  At the end, Laverne stood alone beside a fat brown-haired boy with an asthmatic wheeze.

 

"Uh - I pick Chauncy." Marky said.

 

"Yay!" Chauncy cried as he lumbered over to join Marky's team.

 

The older boy's face contorted in panic.  "You take Laverne, Marky - we want Chauncy!"

 

"Nuh!  Chauncy's the best pitcher in the park!  You take Laverne!"

 

"No, you take her!"

 

The boys began to argue about who should take Laverne, and why she would be a better player on the opposing team.  It didn't take a fool to realize that no one wanted her.

 

Laverne bowed her head, sniffling.  She didn't want to cry and look like a sissy in front of the boys, but she was sorely tempted to give in to the ache in her chest.  But she remembered the girl she punched hadn't cried - and Laverne DeFazio was certainly as strong as that puffy foofy thing. 

 

Antony parted the crowd to reach her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You can keep score, Vernie," he said.

 

She shook her head, feeling something vital in her own personality take root.  "No.  I wanna play."

 

He had known Laverne his entire life, yet something about her steely look surprised Antony.  Confidently, he nodded his head.  "If Laverne ain't playin', then neither am I," he informed both teams loudly.

 

The argument came to a confused ending - both teams knew that Antony was the best all-around stickball player in the neighborhood.  "If Antony ain't playin', I ain't - me neither- me too!" random voices peeped out in the crowd. 

 

Marky was the one to weaken first.  "Fine - we'll take Laverne!  Let's play ball already!"

 

 

***

 

Laverne watched the game proceed with unconcealed delight.  Their park had a real scoreboard and a real baseball diamond, which the high school kids used for practice, which gave their game a special sense of being official .  She wanted so badly to play, but Marky benched her with every at bat - and  when they took the field he placed her in the far right outfield.  He  probably figured she could do the least damage there, but Laverne acquitted herself nicely,  bringing two outs in thanks to her well-honed pitching skills..

 

The day would be perfect, if only they would allow her to bat.  Finally, they were at the end of their final rotation, with a guy on second base - one out.  Marky turned to her and shrugged his shoulders.

 

"We're leadin' by four runs.  Guess you can do it."

 

Laverne sprung to her feet - though it wasn't the nicest way to be asked, it felt wonderful to be needed.  She grabbed her bat and ran up to the plate.

 

"Hey, look - they got Shirley Temple on the plate!" someone catcalled.

 

"Hey Wee Willie Winkie!  You're gonna get dirt all over your dress!"

 

Mocking laughter singed Laverne's nerve.  She wouldn't let them embarrass her - she had confidence in her ability, and they couldn't take it away.  "Throw the darn ball!" she shouted, her eyes locked on Chauncy, smacking the bat against home plate.  Though taken aback by her aggressiveness, a mean glint entered his eyes as Chauncy leaned back and threw the ball.

 

Laverne had squeezed her eyes shut just after swinging - not wanting to know how badly she had missed.  The refreshing crack of wood against cowhide made her jump.

 

The ball was sailing over Chauncy's head...

 

"Run!  Run Laverne, Run!"

 

She heard Antony's voice echoing from the dugout and it forced her limbs into a jaunt.  She rounded first, and as she sprinted for second Dan Rutherford slide into home - her team had won the game on his run.  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the ball headed to the outfield.  It suddenly didn't matter if her team had gained a victory - if that ball landed in the catcher's glove, it would be a personal loss - a statement that she was unworthy of playing with boys.  A fate worse than death.   With new determination, she ran to third...

 

The ball was headed toward the shortstop's glove...

 

Her mary janes scuffed against the dirt.....

 

...he was leaning back....

 

..she tapped the bag and peered through her sweaty curls...

 

...AND IT BOUNCED OUT!

 

Antony stood over home plate, his arms open, ginning.  "SLIDE, LAVERNE!!  SLIDE!!"

 

She threw herself onto her belly, feeling her dress fly up as her belly scraped against the rocky earth.  Her body slid, headlong, down the while chalk line, with both hands held out flat and ready to find the bag.  Finally, the line reached its home, and her left hand smacked the base before coming to rest against home plate.

 

The dugout emptied - her suddenly-joyful teammates grabbing Laverne and lifting her high.  Her name rang from their lips - she guffawed - winded, dirty and proud of herself.

 

"You did swell, Vernie!" Antony said, crushing her again in a hug.

 

"Yeah, Laverne!" Marky said.

 

"I ain't never won a game before!" Lou celebrated.  "Gee, if you ever wanna favor, I'll do anything for you!"

 

"Really?" He nodded.  "Could you...eat a worm?"

 

"Sure!  Marky, help me dig!"

 

Marky and Lou commenced their search as the other boys began to disperse.  As the crowd thinned, Laverne noticed her Mamma and Aunt Do, talking on the bleachers - she wanted to share her victory with them.  Overjoyed, she ran toward the wooden pylons.

 

They didn't see her, however.

 

"...He said the air is cleaner in Milwaukee.  And Frank could get a job easy - a better one than selling door-to-door all day."

 

"Do you really want to move all the way across the country?"

 

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to," Josephine sighed.  "Now you know why I want Laverne to be more of a lady.  I have to teach her before - "

 

"Don't think about that now.  The doctor, he said that maybe..."

 

"Maybe.  Only maybe, Do.  It will be easier when Frank comes home next week..."

 

Only that last sentence registered with Laverne.  "Pappa's coming home?"

 

Josephine's head snapped up - Laverne noticed the tears in her mother's eyes.  Josephine then forced a smile, but to Laverne it seemed a most genuine and radiant expression.  "Yes, honey.  Your Papa's coming home!"

 

Laverne threw herself into her mother's arms.  "This is the best birthday ever!"

 

"Yes, bambina." Josephine held her daughter - and for once she didn't seem to care as clay, dirt and grass stained her pretty house dress.

 

 

***

 

"One year later, I moved to Milwaukee and met your dad," Laverne shut off the taps.

 

Skye knew that her mother's forced glibness hid sadness - the DeFazios had moved to Milwaukee hoping to improving Josephine's health, and Frank had come home early from the war to care for Laverne as his wife's illness worsened and to supervise the move.  But Josephine had succumbed to cancer while her daughter had found a new life.

 

 "You got enough jam?" Laverne asked.

 

"Uh," Skye cleared her emotion-clogged throat.  "Yeah.  This'll be okay..." She screwed the lid back on the brown-spotted Smuckers jar.  While on her way to the refrigerator, Skye noticed that the bowl of icing was gone.  "Mom..."

 

"What?" Skye pointed to the empty space on her counter.  "For once, I'm not guilty."

 

Skye smacked herself on the forehead.  "Why didn't I just buy a fricikin' sheet cake?"

 

"Because Kosnowskis don't buy their birthdays from a store."

 

"Even though we should..."

 

"Remember your fifth birthday?"

 

"Ugh!  Who could forget it?"

 

And Laverne remembered.  Too well.

 

 

***

 

Burbank,

1978

 

 

***

 

 

"A pony?"

 

Lenny continued squirting icing onto the clown-shaped cake, but managed to nod his head.  "They'll be here at two.  The clown's at four, then the magician..."

 

Laverne frowned at her soon-to-be-husband.  "Len, how can you afford all of this?  We got a wedding to pay for and..."

 

He looked at her strangely.  "You know I can take care of you, Vernie."

 

"But..."

 

"No buts..." He put down the tube of icing and came around the island, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her hips against the counter. "I've been savin' a little bit out of my checks each week.  Some of it goes to the wedding, some of it went to this."   He kissed her, which, naturally, led to two more kisses.

 

"Yeah, but..." she kissed his temple.

 

"But..."

 

She pressed a hand against Lenny's chest for a little breathing room.  "Skye's only five.  It's all real sweet of you, Len, but how much is she gonna remember?"

 

Lenny started to explain himself, but then the phone began to ring.  He picked Laverne up, placed her on the counter and said "Stay there"  before heading to the living room and his phone. 

 

Laverne practiced a coquettish pose, leaning back against the counter and thrusting out her chest.  Taking her summer vacation so early in July was worth it in numerous ways - getting to spend time with Lenny and Skye being the main reason.  Her boss had been surprised - she hadn't taken a vacation in the five years she had worked for Ajax.  And she hadn't a reason, until now.

 

From the living room, she heard, "hello...Yes, this is her dad....what?  Yes...A Positive...I'll...Okay, I'll be there in a minute." 

 

A sick knot of dread had tightened in Laverne's stomach before Lenny entered the kitchen.  All erotic promise was washed away in the sickening expression of dread on his face.  "What is it?"

 

"Where're my keys?"  Lenny's voice shook violently, and she grabbed him by his shoulders to still him. 

 

"You can't drive like this.  Tell me what's going on."

 

"It's Skye..."  The words barely left his lips before he began to tear up.  "She's in the hospital."

 

 

***

 

Laverne and Lenny clung together in the waiting room of Cedars Sinai.  To Laverne, the news felt an impossibility - Skye, hurt?  In the hospital?  The very idea set creatures with sharp claws upon her heart.   The two of them were just beginning to become close - to have her ripped away would be too painful to contemplate.  The shock of the girl's sudden injury had sucked the joy from the air - it had to be serious, Lenny had rambled - it had to be, they doctors weren't around. 

 

He had hung up on the school nurse after she said the word "hospital" - Lenny only knew where she had been taken, and that she being seen.  No one had any information for them.

 

"I remember when we decided to name her," Lenny said abruptly.  "Karen was six months pregnant.  We were pickin' carrots in the garden and she turns to me and says 'well, I know it's yours, Lenny - she likes to kick me when I'm asleep, too'."

 

Laverne chortled.  "You don't kick me in my sleep!"

 

"Yeah," a wicked glint entered his eyes.  "I think it was psychoautomatic."

 

"Names?"

 

"Oh - she said she wanted to call our kid Ram if it was a boy and Stormy if it was a girl.  I HATED those names, Laverne. So we got into a big fight, and she said if I could think of somethin' better, I could name it.  So when she went into labor, Karen was screamin' and it was rainin'   for four whole days straight.  Finally, the baby started to come, but her shoulder was stuck.  It was weird -her whole head was out, but nothing else could come out because Karen wasn't wide enough, uh, there.  Someone got a doctor from the free clinic and he said he had to cut Karen between the legs.  So he tells me to put my hands around the baby's head.  So I'm holdin' my kid's head, with my knees in my girlfriend's blood, and I'm thinkin' about how icky it is, and then he cuts Karen, and the baby comes.  And there's Skye, in my arms..." Lenny's eyes were over bright.  He cupped his chin.  "And outside, the sky was pretty, bright blue.  When you ain't slept for four days and it's been rainin' the whole time, a blue sky's about the only thing you can think of."  Laverne embraced her fiancé, and tears began to stream down his face.  "What'm I gonna do, if I have to live without her?"

 

"Oh, Len..."

 

"Everything today was about how she's gonna be five...how I had to make it better than my fifth birthday.  How she deserves everything, 'cause I had nothin' from my mom.  Now I know it don't matter - the cake, the money I spent- nothin'.  It don't matter if I don't have Skye, and to hell with what my mom did to me."

 

"If she was dead, they would've come out and said it - that's what it was like with my mom..."

 

"Then where the hell is the goddamn doctor!" Lenny screamed.  "Where the hell is my girl?"

 

"Your little girl is tight here."

 

Lenny tore himself away from Laverne, throwing his arms around the five-year-old, careless of her broken arm as it hung from a sling at her side.  The little girl threw her good arm around his neck and held on for dear life, bawling from her own fear and anxiety.

 

Laverne held the both of them with one arm as she conversed with the doctor.  "She should be fine...clean break...small transfusion of A Positive for slight anemia...painkillers...come back in six weeks...don't hang upside down from the jungle gym, young lady!"

 

But Skye and Lenny were in a world all their own, a world that Laverne knew she was a part of  - most of the time. 

 

"What were you doin', hanging upside down?  You coulda been hurt worse than you are..."

 

"Tina Rodgers dared me..."

 

"Don't ever do everything anybody says!"

 

"But Laverne says Uncle Squiggy used to tell you..."

 

"I'm not you," Lenny said, like it was a great revelation. "You've gotta be yourself - see what happens when you're not?"

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be sorry," He held her tightly as he scooped her from the floor.  "You're gonna miss your party.  That'll make you sorry enough."

 

"My party?" Skye asked quietly.

 

Lenny looked up at her in panic.

 

Laverne knelt by the little girl.  "How about next Saturday?"

 

"Sure," Lenny grinned, for the benefit of Skye.  "We can have a nice party next week."

 

"That's good," Skye yawned.  "I wanna go home now."  Her little hand latched around Lenny's fingers.

 

He shot the doctor a worried look, having not heard any of Laverne's conversation.

 

"Painkillers.  They'll make her sleepy for awhile, but she'll get used to them."

 

Lenny nodded.  "Thank you," he breathed.

 

"I'll sign her out at the desk."

 

Lenny crushed Skye to his chest, but his words were for her mother.  "And thank you.  I love you." 

 

Laverne wrapped herself around the both of them - though she had tried to be strong, the afternoon had been distressing.   She knew how deeply she loved now, and there was no backing out.   "I love you, too."

 

"Love you," Skye mumbled drowsily, resting against Lenny's collarbone.  She fell asleep between the warm press of her parent's bodies.

 

Laverne laughed. 

 

"What's funny?"

 

"We've got a whole clown cake to eat at home," she rested her chin on Lenny's shoulder.  "If I don't laugh, the thought'll give me a stomach ache."

 

"It'll be okay.  We'll do it together, Vernie."

 

And to Laverne, those words were filled with a tentative promise that meant many things.

 

***

 

"...You guys ate my cake?"  Skye frowned.

 

"Hey, you got a piece - a big piece, with chocolate ice cream."

 

"Yeah, but I was too tired to enjoy it," Skye shook her head at the memory.  "I haven't been near a set of monkey bars since!"

 

"But monkey bars can be fun - especially if you're flexible."

 

Skye shook her head.  "Don't tell me you've tried - "

 

At that point, Frankie strolled into the kitchen, where he tossed an empty, frosting-streaked copper pot into the sink.  Wiping the chocolate from his mouth, he was oblivious of his mother and sister's stares.

 

"You little troll!"

 

"What'd I do this time?" Frankie complained.

 

"That was for Marie's cake!"

 

"Oh!  Sorry!"

 

"Sorry?!  You're SORRY?"

 

"Skye, temper..."

 

"Mom!"

 

"Frankie, go help your family.  Skye, what do we need?"

 

"Butter, milk, cocoa and powdered sugar."

 

Calmly, Laverne walked from counter to counter, retrieving the ingredients.  Easily, she readied the next batch.  Skye and Frankie glared at each other instead of following their mother's shoulders.

 

"NOW."

 

When Laverne used that tone of voice she wasn't to be ignored - Skye searched for a cookbook among the detritus on her counter while Frankie fled the scene.

 

Skye found what she needed beneath a stack of invitations.  Walking over to Laverne, she placed the book on the surface between herself and her stepmother.  Her mind was not on the icing.  "Remember when those two were shorter than me?" she complained.

 

"I remember when I could pick you up," Laverne recalled.

 

"But it's like I blinked and suddenly the boys were sixteen.  Remember when they were Marie's age?"

 

"When they were five, you had just gotten your first apartment.  Remember what a disaster that was?"

 

Skye shuddered.  "I'd like to forget that, too..."

 

 

***

 

1994,

San Francisco

 

 

***

 

"Mmm...sausage..."

 

Skye Kosnowski giggled coquettishly as her boyfriend tried to retrieve a slice from her plate.  "You've got your own, Brandon."

 

"But it's sweeter when it comes from you..."

 

"Don't be silly - you'll spoil dessert."

 

When Brandon returned her innuendo with a raised eyebrow Skye flashed back to her childhood - her parent's mock-bickering, which usually went way over her head.  Now that she was the adult in an adult relationship, she understood what all of the teasing had been about.

 

Brandon was Skye's fifth relationship - the second serious one.  After their whirlwind internship-related courtship, they had spent the summer in San Francisco leading a soccer camp for underprivileged youth.  The summer program had been underwritten by the government - their affair had been underwritten by their lousy jobs in the Capitol Records mailroom.  The summer had been an interesting lesson for Skye - she learned the difference between wanting and needing to do things.  She needed to work at Capitol - she wanted to live with Brandon.

 

"Bo doesn't need us until six.  We can..."

 

"Can?" She played innocent.

 

"You know...."

 

"Yeah..."

 

A knock sounded at their front door.  "Answer the door."

 

Skye patted his hand before standing up.  She glanced in the mirror, tousling her stick-straight blonde hair - she hadn't had a shower yet, but her old cut-offs and tee-shirt were clean and inoffensive.  She didn't think anyone important might stop by so early, anyway.

 

She pulled open the door, and there stood her parents and brothers.  "Hel-"

 

Skye slammed the door shut, and her shocked expression sent Brandon to his feet.

 

"Who is it?"

 

A knock.  "Skyescraper?  Open the door!"

 

"Skyescraper?" Brandon chuckled.

 

She smiled weakly.  "My dad.  My step mom."

 

"Oh..."

 

"Go put pants on.  I'll distract them."

 

Brandon raced for their bedroom and Skye spun around, unlocking the door. 

 

Her father immediately swept Skye into a bear hug, smushing Frankie between their chests, much to his protest.  He then pulled back and studied her. 

 

"You got bigger!"

 

She shook her head.  "Nah, dad - you know I'm finished growing."

 

"Oh yeah - I guess your pants got shorter."

 

"Len-" Laverne warned.

 

"I'm not dressed for the day yet," Skye explained.

 

"Sorry we didn't call - the boys woke up and said they wanted to see you, and we got their party set for noon, so..."

 

"...we got into the car," Lenny made himself comfortable on their ratty couch with Frankie while Laverne settled into Skye's dilapidated easy chair, holding Andy.

 

"...at four."

 

Skye watched her parents for a moment.  "You guys are weird.  Want some coffee?"

 

"I'll take a soda."

 

"Len, you shouldn't have a soda at six in the morning..."

 

"But cola's good for you.  Right, Frankie!"

 

"Yeah!"

 

"Oh, brother - Brandon, can you get my Dad a Pepsi?" Skye shouted.

 

"Brandon's here?" Her father's tone held no pleasure.

 

"He lives here - wait, party?"

 

"It's my birthday!" Frankie piped up.

 

"No, it's my birthday!" argued Andy.

 

"Oh crap!" Skye muttered, but saved face.  She sat down beside her father and took Andy into her arms.  "You're getting heavy, Thing Number One."

 

"Mama said I gained six pounds."

 

"Feels like it."

 

"I want to sit on Skye's lap!" Pouted Andy.

 

"Sorry, kid - I can only hold one at a time," she rummaged beneath a pile of magazines to find the remote to her little portable TV.  "Hey, I bet you can find some cartoons on the TV." she handed the remote to Andy.

 

He frowned.  "I don't see the TV."

 

"It's in the kitchen, silly boy."

 

Both boys scrambled out of the room, waving the remote and shoving past Brandon.

 

Lenny examined the can of soda when his daughter's boyfriend handed it over.  "Thanks..."

 

"Brandon," the younger man added nervously, sitting down beside his girlfriend.

 

"Bran - don..."  Lenny weighed the name in his mouth.  He swirled the can filled with Coke.  "Kinda sounds like a serial killer."

 

He met her father's words with humor.  "Lenny kind of sounds like a pig farmer."

 

Skye dove into the contentious space.  "So!  Dad!  How's the restaurant?"

 

Lenny's eyes were locked on Brandon.  "Yeah - you also look like one.  You planning on cutting that hair?"

 

"You're jealous because you can't grow any."

 

Laverne snorted, while Lenny reflexively touched the top of his head, which he knew was beginning to thin.  "How are you supporting yourselves?  I've got a spring biting into my keister but you have a remote-controlled tv?"

 

"That's a gift from my dad."

 

"What does he do?"

 

"Doctor."

 

"So you're sponging off of daddy, eh?"

 

"Would we live in a place like this if I was?  These are all old birthday and Christmas gifts.  I prefer to support myself."

 

"Support...hmm...are you going to be able to support my daughter?"

 

"What are you asking?"

 

"Depends on what your intentions are."

 

"Intentions?"

 

"For my little girl.  Are you going to marry her?"

 

Anxiety sliced through Brandon's expression.  "Maybe."

 

"Maybe?  How well do you know her?"

 

"I've been dating her all summer - I know something about -"

 

"What's her favorite flavor of ice cream?"

 

"Rocky Road.  Her favorite movie?"

 

"Vibes'.  Her favorite TV show?"

 

"I Love Lucy.  Her favorite color?"

 

"That's a trick question," both men said together.  "It's orange sherbet - and you have to get it custom-mixed at a paint store."

 

Lenny and Brandon stared impassively at one another.

 

"You know you're both being jerks." Laverne plainly uttered.  "Skye - "

 

"...Needs water.  Excuse me."

 

The young blonde knew that Laverne was on her tail as she stood in her kitchen, nervously gulping water.  "Boys!  wipe up those Sugar Pops before we leave!"

 

"Yes, Mom," they sing-songed.  Laverne shuddered.

 

"It's so creepy when they do that..." She watched Skye drain her glass.  "That's how I felt when you came for dinner with my Pop the first time."

 

"How did you keep yourself sane?" Skye wondered.  "And you had everything planned out ahead of time!"  She hiccupped.  "Great."  And kept hiccupping.

 

"I'm sorry you didn't get a warning," Laverne rubbed her stepdaughter's shoulder.  "Your dad's gonna be tough on Brandon for awhile.  He knows you like him a lot, but you're his little girl - he ain't gonna let go easy."

 

"That's sweet - but after he had that little panic attack when I went off to school, I thought he'd be ready for this.."

 

"No guy's ready to let their little girl move in with a guy.  It's different - you told him about Brandon and he knew your boyfriend lives here, but your dad's a pretty visually- orientated guy.  Trust me though - soon enough, they'll be old friends."

 

Skye hugged her mom.  "Thank you."

 

"You're welcome.  Hey, your hiccups are gone." 

 

"I remembered how to breathe.  Kosnowskis aren't known for being able to do two things at once."

 

Together, they walked to the living room - where Brandon and Lenny were suddenly laughing like old friends.

 

"...So you lived in Seawall?  I was born in Sewall!"

 

"Oh yeah!  The winters are terrible!"

 

As they chuckled and gabbed, Skye stared in slackjawed disbelief.  "Men are strange," she muttered.

 

Laverne agreed.  But she did so silently.

 

 

***

 

Skye blew out a match.  "Well, mom, we did it."

 

Laverne appreciated the chocolaty mound of cake, with it's glossy frosting and bright red candles.  "Told you that we could," she smartly noted.

 

"I couldn't've done it without you," she hugged her. 

 

"Well, I love you, Skye - you know I'd do anything for you."

 

"Heh - we'll see if that's true after we hand out the favors."

 

"You saved me a candy necklace, right?"

 

 Skye chuckled as she picked up the platter and together they walked toward the living room.  Skye then bumped the swinging door open with her hip.  "You'll get it when everyone else does."

 

Laverne pouted.  "That ain't fair!"

 

But her momentary disappointment was swallowed up by the childish chorus of voices, the excitement of the cake's arrival - and the sight of her husband, sitting in his place with two paper party hats upon his head, sticking out like horns. It seemed to Laverne he was ever the same boy she had met at six. 

 

And she never wanted him to change.

To 1996

To Epilouge













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