We Gather Together

 

By Shotzette

 

 

Bookends Universe

 

This is only a work of fan fiction, and is not intended to infringe upon anyone’s copyrights or intellectual properties.  It was written for grins and giggles, not dollars and cents.

 

 

                                                                        PG-13

 

Laverne Kosnowski groaned as she rubbed her aching back.  Three hours of work, but what the realtor had once referred to as “the formal dining room” was now a medium sized room newly devoid of junk.  Laverne winced as she considered the volume of the agonized shriek that her youngest son would have unleashed if he had known that deep down his mother considered the combined possessions of the Goth-Metal-Rap-Alternative band known as “FiirBallz” as junk.

 

Then again, she reasoned; the little snot had bailed on helping her clean the room as he promised, so his collection of guitars, amps, music stands, and drums deserved to be referred to as “junk”.

 

Laverne surveyed the room warily, noting for the first time the many scraps and dings in the drywall and the contrast of the color of the carpeting that had been hidden under musical equipment, versus the wall to wall in the rest of the downstairs.  Maybe it wasn’t too late to call this thing off?

 

Laverne brushed aside the thought immediately.  Come hell, high water, or incredibly shrinking house; she’d wanted to have all of her near and dear together for Thanksgiving for years.  She just hadn’t counted on everyone saying yes.

 

Shirley and Walter were a given.  Even if she and Shirley hadn’t been spending more time together in the last few years, Andy’s increasingly serious relationship with their granddaughter, Caitlin, would have warranted their presence.  Laverne’s brow crinkled.  Those two were up to something she just knew it.  Too many conversations had ended abruptly when she and Lenny had entered the room, and the young couple had shot too many furtive glances towards each other.  Laverne had no idea what was going on, but she was starting to pray that it didn’t involve a stick turning blue.

 

“Hey, I didn’t know the rug used to be green?”

 

Laverne turned and glanced at her husband of twenty-four years.  “Who’da thunk it?”

 

Lenny grinned in response before walking back into the kitchen and dropping the multiple grocery bags in his grasp onto the counter.  “Andy,” he hollered out of the kitchen door, “Hurry up!”

 

“In a minute,” Laverne’s eldest son answered, as he staggered in carrying twice as many bags as his father, not counting the two dangling from his clenched jaw.

 

“Len!” Laverne whined as she ran to Andy’s aid and took some of the bags.  “What are you trying to do, give him a hernia before he can drink.  Legally,” she added noting her son’s averted gaze.

 

“Hey, if his brother was nice enough to offer to help you clean out the dining room, the least he can do is…What?”

 

Laverne smirked.  “Do you see Frankie anywhere around here?”

 

Before her husband could answer, the object of Laverne’s anger sauntered through the front door.  “Hey.”

 

“Don’t “hey” me, mister!  Where have you been all afternoon?  You were supposed to help me with the dining room!”

 

“And, I did,” Frankie answered smoothly, as he gestured towards his battered pick up truck with his thumb.  “I know you were worried about not fitting everyone at the table, so I went to Home Depot and bought some plywood.  You know, to make the table bigger,” he added.

 

“Oh.” Laverne smiled in spite of herself.

 

“I saw Martha Stewart do that once.  Then she threw old sheets from a flea market on top to make it look nice.  If we do that, we should wash them first, so we all don’t catch cr-“

 

“Got it,” Laverne said, cutting him off.

 

Frankie shrugged.  “I also asked Mrs. Tran if we could borrow some of her folding chairs.”

 

“And, she agreed?”  Lenny asked, his face filled with disbelief.

 

Again Frankie shrugged.  “Yeah, I just can’t hang out with her daughter any more.”

 

Lenny nodded thoughtfully before continuing to put the groceries away.

 

“No, way!”  Frankie said, as Lenny put the wrapped turkey into the refrigerator.  “You’re not making us a real turkey?”

 

“That is a real turkey, Frankie.  Someone else just cooked it, that’s all.”

 

“Awwww….  That’s not Thanksgiving.  The house isn’t going to smell good like it does when you get up really to cook it,” the boy pouted, his blue streaked hair, pierced eye brow, and large eyes making him look like the most tragic of the Precious Moments figurines.

 

“You’ll live,” was Laverne’s dry retort.  “I actually want to be able to enjoy everybody for once, instead of being stuck in the kitchen cooking.  Skye, Brandon and the kids and Marianne are flying in tonight, Shirley and Walter are driving up early tomorrow morning, Rhonda’s flying up tomorrow morning, and Carmine is already at his hotel…”

 

Lenny looked up sharply.  “Carmine’s coming? I thought he had a matinee”

 

Laverne nodded, pointedly ignoring Frankie and Andy’s guffaws.  “He did, but Equity’s on strike and he’d never cross a picket line.”

 

A glimmer of the old teamster pride flashed in Lenny’s face before he got somber.  “I dunno, Vernie.  Shirley and Carmine in the same room together?  I mean…”

 

“Len!  It’s been thirty-five years since they’ve seen each other.  They’re both adults…”

 

“That might be the problem.  Y’know,” he said in a stage whisper that carried louder than his normal voice ever could, “Shirley and Walter still ain’t getting along all that great…’

 

“Len,” Laverne hissed as she glanced to her two overly attentive offspring.  “That’s a private matter between Walter and Shirley.”

 

“And anyone who’s been within five feet of them in the last ten years,” was Lenny’s dour reply.

 

Frankie looked confused.  “Caitlin’s grandma and Uncle Carmine know each other?”

 

Now it was Lenny’s turn to look exasperated.  “Didn’t you ever listen when I told you the stories of us all growing up back in Milwaukee together?”

 

Frankie shrugged.  “A little, if the cartoons were boring.  But I only paid attention to the stories about you and Uncle Squiggy.  Like the time you two took out Seretta, the Armenian butcher’s daughter and…”

 

“Ow!” Lenny cried out as Laverne swatted his upper arm with her hand.  “Watch it, Vernie!  I didn’t tell them none of the good stuff, anyhow…OW!”

 

Andy chuckled as he finished putting away the groceries.  “Dude, I can’t believe that you don’t remember that Uncle Carmine used to date Shirley a gajillion years ago.”

 

“Watch it,” Laverne warned, poking him in the ribs with her forefinger.  “Don’t be so generous with the “gajillions”.  And when did you start calling her Shirley?”

 

This time it was Andy’s turn to shrug.  “Just behind her back.  I still call her Mrs. Meaney to her face.”  The boy’s face fell.  “She totally hates me.”

 

Laverne’s face softened.  “No she doesn’t.”

 

“She does, ever since she walked in on me and Cait-.“  Andy looked away, his cheeks reddening ask his twin pumped his fist in the air and shouted, “Boo-YAH!”

 

“Len,” Laverne mumbled as she glared at Andy.

 

“I’m on it,” Lenny replied before swatting the back of Frankie’s head.  Lenny grumbled as he lumbered to the sink to rinse the blue dye that had come off into the palm of his hand.  “I can’t believe you put that weird crap in your hair,” he grumbled.

 

Laverne bit her tongue and continued to stare at Andy. 

 

“What?” the young man asked clearly unnerved by her unblinking stare.

 

“What’s going on with you and Caitlyn?”

 

“Whaddya mean,” he answered.

 

“You two look like you’re up to something,” Laverne prodded.

 

“We’re fine, no problems.”  Andy looked quickly at his wrist, a motion that would have held more impact if he’d actually been wearing a watch.  “Look at the time.  I told Caitlyn I’d meet her at her dorm before work.  Gotta go, love ya, buh-bye,” he breathed as he kissed his mother’s cheek, grabbed his motorcycle helmet, and zipped out of the door in a nanosecond.

 

“But, but-“ Laverne sputtered, her frustration turning to fatigue as Andy zipped down the driveway on his Suzuki.  “Damn it,” she muttered.

 

“Caitlin’s grandma dated Uncle Carmine?”  Frankie grinned as he shook his head.

 

Laverne’s frown returned.  “What’s so weird about that?”

 

“I dunno.  Uncle Carmine has always seemed so cool, always had a hottie with him, y’know…  And Caitlin’s grandma is just, I dunno, a grandma, y’know?”

 

“A grandma like me?” Laverne asked, steeling herself for a callous response.

 

“Nah.  I mean, I know you’re a grandma now, with Skye’s kids and everything, but people can tell that you were young once.”

 

“Thanks,” Laverne replied dryly and wondered what she and Lenny had been thinking about when they taught Frankie how to talk.

 

“You know what I mean, Mom.  It’s just like I can’t see Caitlin’s grandma being anything else.  Ever.”

 

“You didn’t know her back then,” Laverne said, her voice strangely tight.  Clearing her throat, she added, “Why don’t you put the plywood on the table and let your Dad and me finish in here, okay?  Make Martha proud.”

 

Laverne turned towards the sink as she felt Lenny’s hands gently massage the back of her neck as she heard Frankie’s Doc Martens thump across the linoleum and into the carpeted dining room.

 

“Sorry,” Lenny mumbled into the back of her head.

 

“S’okay.  Frankie calls them like he sees them.”

 

“I wonder where he gets that from?”

 

“I have no idea.  Seriously,” Laverne asked, as she turned in her husbands arms, “do you think it was a dumb idea to invite Shirley and Carmine hear together?”

 

“I’ve heard dumber.”

 

“That’s not helping, Len.”

 

“You said it, they’re both adults.

 

“True.”

 

“And you had the best intentions when you asked them….”

 

“True again…”

 

“And the fact that you didn’t want anyone you loved to be alone on Thanksgiving is a good thing, a noble thing.  Something that a saint among women would do...”

 

Laverne’s feeling of unease returned with the overabundance of praise.  “Len, what have you done?”

 

He giggled nervously, and didn’t meet her eyes.  “Hey, Vernie.  Speaking of old friends we haven’t seen in way too long…”  His eyes met hers, manic and more blue than usual.

 

She knew, and groaned allowed.

 

“He called me this morning, Laverne.  He and Patty were in Lompoc visiting her sister, and you know, they can’t stand Squig…”

 

“Imagine that.”

 

“And it’s awful to be alone on Thanksgiving…”

 

She groaned again.  “Alone’s not sounding all that bad right now, Len.”

 

 

 

 

Andy Kosnowski didn’t fully exhale the breath he was holding until he pulled into the parking lot adjacent to Caitlyn’s dorm.  He wasn’t surprised to see the object of his affection waiting outside for him, with a tense expression on her white face.

 

“Hey,” he mumbled, as he pulled her in for a brief kiss.

 

“Hey, yourself.”  Caitlyn pulled away from him, and studied him curiously, stress evident in her dark eyes.  “So, we’re really going to do it?”

 

“That’s my line,” he joked.

 

Her lips twitched momentarily, before resettling into their worried posture.  “We don’t have to tell them today.”

 

“Yes, we do.  We are going to tell them all, with our heads held high.  We’re going to be mature and responsible grown ups about it.  Besides, if we tell them all separately, they’ll pull that divide and conquer crap on us.”

 

“We’re gong to ruin Thanksgiving…”

 

“Nope.  The groundwork has already been laid for that since they’ve asked everyone that they’ve ever known in their life to the house today.  My mom is a total nutcase today, so a disaster is on the horizon anyhow.  This way, it can work to our advantage.”

 

Caitlyn shook her head.  “You don’t know from nutcases.  You’ve never seen my grandmother get a party together.  Everything has to be perfect all of the time.”

 

“Perfect is too high of a goal for Kosnowskis. We just try for “non-disaster” and fifty percent of the time we make it.”  He was relieved to see the beginning of a smile flicker across Caitlyn’s face.

 

“You’re lucky, Andy.  You know that, don’t you?”

 

He shrugged.

”I mean it.  You’re parents are so tight with you and Frankie; even each other.”

 

“You’re grandparents love you, Caitlyn.”

 

“I know.  It’s just not the same.”

 

“No, it’s not.  They’re different people, and you can’t expect the same things from them.”

 

“I almost wish your mom hadn’t invited them today.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s a bad time,” she replied, looking away.  “I just hope they don’t do anything to ruin Thanksgiving…”

 

Andy flashed her a quick grin.  “They can’t.  Besides, even if they aren’t getting along, there are going to be way too many other people around for them to have to hang out with each other.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.  My mom’s spitting nails because my dad invited my Uncle Squiggy and his family without asking my mom first.  She’s having to re-arrange everything buffet-style, whatever the hell that means.”

 

“Wow.  How many people are coming to this train wreck?”

 

See, now you’re getting into the holiday spirit.  My folks, your grandparents, Skye and Brandon and the spawnlings, Brandon’s dad, Aunt Rhonda, and Uncle Carmine.”

 

“Carmine is Marianne’s farther, right?”

 

Andy nodded.  “Yeah.  Did you know…”

 

“What?”

 

Awkwardness overtook Andy for once.  “Uncle Carmine and your Grandmother.  My mom said they used to date.”

 

Caitlyn’s jaw dropped.  “Really?  Grams?  No way!”

 

“Way.”

 

Caitlynn shrugged before fishing a helmet out of Andy’s knapsack and donning it.  “I shouldn’t be surprised.  I’m sure Grandpa wasn’t the only guy she ever went out with.  It couldn’t have been too important if she never mentioned it.”

 

“Guess not.”

 

 

 

 

“Grandma, grandma, grandma!!! “ The precocious red head screeched as she launched herself into Laverne’s arms.

 

Laverne steadied herself against the fierceness of the seven year old’s assault and hugged the little rug rat for all she was worth.  “Marie!!,” she said, as she finally held the girl at arm’s length, “you’ve grown so tall!  You’re not allowed to grow when I ain’t there to watch!”

 

“Mom.”  Skye didn’t as much screech her name, as she let it slur out in a tired sigh.  The tall blond grinned as she released Leon’s hand to Marianne’s before turning to hug her stepmother.

 

“Long flight?” Laverne whispered in her ear.

 

You have no idea…

 

“Did the kids fuss?”

 

“Not mine,” Skye whispered, as her eyes drifted towards Marianne.

 

Laverne glanced over at Skye’s best friend, and the godmother of her grand children.  Marianne Ragusa was as beautiful and well put together as always, at first glance.  Closer inspection revealed blood shot eyes, haphazardly applied make up, and dilated pupils.

 

Laverne shot a quizzical look Skye’s way.

 

Sky shook her head and whispered, as they walked through the front door and into the battered entry hall of Lenny and Laverne’s small house, “She was up all night stressing.  Uncle Carmine called her last night and said he was bringing someone “very special” for her to meet today.  She had two vodka tonics on the plane to calm down before-

 

 “What? Carmine’s bringing somebody?  I didn’t tell him he could bring somebody!  I can’t believe he’s bringing somebody…  Oh.  I’m sorry Marianne’s upset,” Laverne mumbled as she caught her stepdaughter’s disapproving eye.

 

“Carmine’s bringing someone?” Brandon asked, as he shot his wife a look.  “Isn’t that kind of rude, inviting someone to someone else’s party without telling them first.”

 

“Way to go, Captain Irony,” muttered Skye under her breath as she was finally released from her father’s crushing bear hug.

 

“What?”  Lenny asked.

 

Skye cleared her throat, the nervousness evident in her voice.  “Well, its Thanksgiving...”

 

“And?”  Laverne was feeling more apprehensive by the moment.

 

“And it’s awful for someone to be alone on the holidays…”

 

Laverne smiled.  Skye, you don’t have to run interference for you Dad.  He told me Squiggy was coming yesterday, and I’ve accepted it.”

 

“Uncle Squiggy’s coming?”

 

“You didn’t know?”

 

Skye shook her head, and Laverne’s trepidation returned in triplicate.  “Okay, spill it.”

 

Skye glanced at Brandon and his father, both of who were suddenly taking far too much interest in helping little Leon get the action figures out of his backpack.  “Thanks, Soulmate,” she grumbled.

 

“I told you it was a bad idea…”Brandon mumbled, as he deposited a variety of super heroes, aliens, and mutants on the newly cleaned carpet.

 

“What??”  Laverne’s nerves were nearly at the breaking point.

 

“Well,” Skye hedged, as she began to shift her weight from foot to foot.  “Here’s the thing.”

 

“And the thing is?”  Lenny asked.

 

“I got a call yesterday.  From Karen.”

 

The crowded entry hall got deadly quiet.

 

“She’s in town.  Her new boyfriend was attending some sort of seminar at UCLA…  and, uh…. That’s here in California, you know…”

 

“Really?”  Was Laverne’s dry reply.

 

Lenny’s response was much more quiet, and more frightening.  Turning a whiter shade of pale, he turned and walked down the basement steps, closing the door behind him.

 

“Where Grandpa-Len go?” Asked Leon through a mouthful of animal crackers.

 

“Grandpa Len just needed a time out,” said Laverne through clenched teeth as she picked up her grandson and squeezed him.

 

Immediately, the small house was filled with too much chatter and too many forced smiles as the crowd made its way into the kitchen, leaving Skye alone.

 

 

 

 

 

The squirming child in Skye’s arms was flailing as she changed him out of his punch stained shirt and into a clean on.  However, her ire was reserved for her husband who sat on the couch watching them.  “Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?” Brendon asked.

 

“The face.  You’re giving me that smug and superior face.  You now how  I hate it when you do that.”

 

“I can’t help it.  That’s how I feel right now.”

 

“It’s not very nice,” Skye admonished, as she tried a third shirt on the wiggling Leon.  How the hell did he already get chocolate sauce on it?”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

“Skye, you couldn’t have imagined that this could have gone well, are you?”

 

“Yes…” she replied in a small voice.

 

Brendon rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “Right.”

 

“I thought that maybe, with everyone here to diffuse it…”

 

“Your dad doesn’t diffuse well.  Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

 

“Mom’s talking to him.”

 

“Your mother should get a medal for this.  “

 

“She gave him an evil look.”

 

“Seriously.  I was almost as afraid for Laverne’s reaction as much as your dads'.”

 

“Why?”

 

"The ex showing up Thanksgiving.  That’s what horrific family legends are based upon,” he explained.

 

“Laverne’s not like that.  She’s never said an unkind thing about Karen.”

 

“In front of you.”

 

“Ever,” Skye said firmly.  “She’s cool with it.  My dad is the one with the issues.”

 

“They’re justified.”

 

“Yes, but…  You’d think after all these years...”

 

“And your dad doesn’t diffuse well.”

 

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

 

“It’s not going to happen.  Especially on a holiday.”

 

“You didn’t hear Karen on the phone…  She sounded so hollow and sad.”

”I’m sure she did, but that’s not something you can fix.”

 

“Nice much?”

 

“I’m serious.  She knew she’d be in LA for how long?  And she only called you last night?”

 

“She’s not a good planner.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Language,” Skye said, as she clapped her hands over Leon’s ears.

 

“Bullshit”, he mouthed dramatically.  “She has a master’s degree, runs a very successful business, and has had two books published.  You don’t get those things accomplished without planning.”

 

“You’ve never liked her….”

 

“I don’t dislike her.  I’m just more…indifferent.”

 

“If you had spoken to her the other night, you would have invited her.”

 

“Nope.  I would drive her to the emergency room, I would donate blood for her, I would post bail for her, but I would never, ever, ever invite her to someone else’s house.  Especially if there are still bubbling issues.”

 

“Oh, for god’s sake,” snapped Skye, her patience grinding to a halt. “It’s been how many years…”

 

“Your dad.  Not diffusing.  I think we’ve had this discussion before.”

 

“I was on the spot.”

 

Brendon rolled his eyes, and said in the most patronizing tone she’d ever heard come out of his mouth, “Karen put you on the spot, and you reacted the way she wanted you to.  I can’t believe that you don’t get it.”

 

“Leon, sweetie,” Skye said through gritted teeth.  “Where do earmuffs go?”

 

The toddler grinned and covered his ears, and Skye was glad that he was far too young to read lips.

 

 

 

 

Laverne took a deep breath, and opened the basement door.  It had been an hour and a half since Lenny’s less than graceful retreat, and patience had never been one of her strong points.  Jim Morrison’s angst-ridden voice greeted her, still sexy despite years of nicks in the vinyl.  For a moment, she let her mind drift away to the memories of days of protest marches and the intertwined scents of burning incense and hemp.  Cautiously, she sniffed the air and was relieved to only smell feet and Febreeze.

 

“Len?” She called out softly as walked down the creaking stairs.

 

A large lump coved in an afghan on a futon grunted in response.

 

He wasn’t using his words, which was never a good sign.  Laverne walked over to the lump and sat down next to it carefully.  “You’ve been down here an hour.  People are starting to talk.”

 

“Let them,” was the muffled response from the afghan.

 

Quietly, she lay down on the futon, carefully spooning herself around his form.  This isn’t so bad.  No arguing, no yelling…”  Laverne winced as she heard a crashing noise from upstairs, “no ramifications for not Leon-proofing the house…  I might just have to stay down here with you.”

 

“I want to be alone, Vernie.”

 

“You were, but now you’re not.  We’ve got a houseload of people to take care of, Len.”

 

“That’s the problem!  I can’t believe Skye invited Karen.  After all of these years!  She knows how I feel…”

 

“Unfortunately, yes she does.”

 

“Whaddya mean by that?”

 

“I mean, it’s okay for you to hate Karen.  It’s kinda okay for me to hate her; but she’s Skye’s mother.”

 

“You’re Skye’s mother,” he protested.

 

Laverne gave him a squeeze.  “Len, I’m her step mother.”

 

“You’ve always been there for her!”

 

“Yeah, once I came into the picture.  But before then, you were all the father and mother she ever had.”

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be that way.”

 

“But it was.”

 

“That was Karen’s fault.”

 

“You make it sound like something awful happened.”

 

Lenny rolled out of her embrace and looked at her incredulously.  “Karen abandoned us when Skye was just a baby.  I can’t believe Skye can forgive her and be nice to her and…”

 

Laverne cuddled more closely against her husband.  “Why wouldn’t Skye forgive her?  I don’t think it matters to Skye at all.”

 

“How can you say that?  Her mother ran off!  Karen left her, abandoned her, and made her feel…”

 

Laverne shook her head.  “No, Len.  Skye was too young to remember Karen at all.  She didn’t even really meet her until she was twelve.”

 

“It still must hurt her.”

 

“I don’t think it does.  Not like it hurts you when you think of your mother.”  Laverne tightened her arms around Lenny’s midsection as she felt him tense up, then try to crawl further away into the futon.  “Len, come back here!  Skye never knew her mother, that’s why Karen’s leaving never affected her the way your mother’s did you.  Len,” she said, as she stroked his quivering jaw, “you looked after Skye.  You made sure she never suffered the way you did after your mom left on your fifth birthday.  You took care of her, made her feel loved-she’s never known the kind of hurt that you did, just the way you wanted.”

 

“I just don’t see how…”

 

“She didn’t want Karen to be alone.  She wanted to share her family with her, the family that Karen’s really not a part of.”

 

“I…”

 

“I know.  I wish she didn’t invite her either, then again if I can deal with Squiggy and his wife…”

 

“And his daughter.  Didn’t I mention that they’re bringing Liz?”

 

It was Laverne’s turn to groan aloud.  Lizard Squiggman.  The last time that Laverne had seen the, for lack of a better word-- girl, she had been heavily camouflaged under eye glasses, acne, head gear, frizzy hair and oversized sweatpants; and Laverne hadn’t had the courage to get a closer look. 

 

“No, you didn’t mention that they were bringing Liz.”  With a grunt, Laverne sat upright on the lumpy mattress and yanked the afghan off of Lenny’s form.  “Okay, your pity party is over.  No way in hell are you leaving me alone to face all of this when all you have to confront is your ex girlfriend.  Suck it up, Kosnowski,” she said as she punched him in the shoulder.

 

Owww…  You still hit hard, even as a grandma.” Lenny grumbled as he pulled himself up off the futon with a groan.  “That thing ain’t nearly as comfortable as I remember it being,” he added as he rubbed his lower back.

 

“Don’t tell Shirley and Walter, that’s where they’re staying tonight.”

 

Lenny looked at her in surprise, “You’re putting Shirley in the basement?”

 

“Yeah, Skye, Brandon and the kids can’t sleep down here due to Leon’s allergies so they are in Frankie’s room.  Caitlyn’s in Andy’s room,”  Laverne held up her hand as Lenny started to sputter, “-- and Andy and Frankie are on the sofa bed in den where I can hear them through the wall all night and keep an eye on them.  Not under my roof,” Laverne muttered as she and Lenny walked slowly up the stairs.

 

The sight that greeted Laverne as she exited the basement was one of carefully choreographed pandemonium.  Shirley had taken over in her absence, and had apparently deputized those around her into a semi efficient catering staff.   A somber Marianne was helping a very earnest Marie set out the flat ware, Skye hand mashed cranberries, Frankie liberated some cranberry goo from a can, Walter stood awkwardly in the hallway, while Brandon and his father were carrying all the chairs in the house into the living room area for the last minute buffet.

 

Laverne grinned as the memories of half a dozen Shotz Talent shows danced through her mind.  She should have known that she could have counted on Shirley to take charge and whip the crew into shape.  God, she’d missed her…

 

As if psychic, Shirley shot her a quick glance and a wink, before going back to her old bossy self.

 

“Dad?”  Skye had approached tentatively, a foreign state to Laverne’s eyes.  She was relieved to see her husband reach out and give his firstborn a quick squeeze.

 

“S’okay,” Lenny muttered.  “Our whole family is here, and that’s the important part.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Skye whispered as she leaned in to kiss her father and quickly grab Laverne’s hand.  “They’re only coming for dessert, and I told Karen to bring something.  It’s probably healthy and horrible, but coming empty handed is not in the spirit of the holiday.”

 

“You’re all about the spirit, Skyscraper.”  Lenny said.

 

“They’re?” Laverne repeated blankly.

 

“Guess who?” boomed Frankie’s voice from the back door, as he staggered in, nearly unrecognizable under a pile of luggage.

 

“Hi ho!” pealed out the voice of Rhonda Lee, dancer, hotel magnate, and businesswoman.  Laverne chuckled as her old friend darted around air-kissing one and all, her make up flawlessly applied to her newly tightened face.

 

“Laverne!  Lenny!  You didn’t tell Rhonda that the boys had grown up so well,” she said as she gestured towards Frankie with a acrylic nail.  “Rhonda wouldn’t have recognized little Frankie at all if he hadn’t been holding a sign up saying, “Waiting for the most beautiful woman in the world” at the airport.  What a charmer…”

 

Lenny pulled his son aside.  “You thought you got to the airport too early, didn’t you?” he whispered loudly.

 

Frankie nodded briefly and grunted, “All those college girls coming home for the holidays...  Can’t blame me for trying to score some digits,” he muttered before depositing Rhonda’s bags into the small den off the kitchen.

 

“Oh my stars, even the babies are getting older.  Poor Rhonda’s the only one who’s stayed the same.” She squealed as she picked up little Leon and kissed him on his forehead, leaving him a bindhi in Lancome Scarlet.

 

Laverne was mildly alarmed to see her grandson bite his palm in response.

 

“Excuse me, but I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Paul Davis said as he took Rhonda’s hand in his.  I’m Brandon’s father, Skye’s father in law, “ he added, his usual shyness kicking in again.

 

Rhonda looked aghast.  “Brandon’s father?  Rhonda had you two pegged for brothers.  You must have been quite the cavalier in high school, Paul,” she chided, in full on flirt mode.

 

Paul blushed, a charming, yet disconcerting look on a man in his fifties.  “Brandon always said you were gorgeous, and I see he didn’t exaggerate.”

 

“Gorgeous?” mouthed Skye, as she gave her husband a look.

 

“Plastic holds up well,” he muttered back.

 

Laverne stifled a giggle as she reached for her husband’s hand.  They were going to be okay, she reasoned.  They would survive Thanksgiving, Christmas, and even Arbor Day as long as they kept their wits and senses of humor with them.  The day seemed a lot less scary by the moment.

 

“Hello!”

 

Laverne jumped as the nasal voice that had been absent from her life for the last several years reasserted itself with horrible clarity. 

 

“I guess that someone forgot to send a car for us,” Andrew Squiggman sniffed, as he looked distastefully around the small house.

 

“Squig!” Lenny shouted, as he lunged to greet his friend and nearly trampled his wife in the process.

 

“Lenny!” Squiggy shouted, as he surrendered to his friend’s hug for a split second before shoving him away to a comfortable “guy distance”.

 

Squiggy’s hair had grayed over the years, but it still wore a greasy sheen of pomade.  Laverne sighed in relief with her own mid 80’s battle with Lenny to substitute styling gel for his tried and true Brylcreem. 

 

A quiet cough from behind Squiggy revealed his wife, Patty.  The former stripper and nurse was almost unrecognizable for her dowdy attire, graying hair, and glasses; making Laverne believe that once again, it’s not the years but the mileage that ages a person.

 

Once Laverne set eyes on Lizard Squigman, however, all bets about it being a reasonably sane holiday were over.  The girl had blossomed from her awkward years, but for the life of her, Laverne couldn’t fathom into what.  The dark hair was no longer frizzy, and it sported a few burgundy highlights.  The petite brunette wore a silky tunic, and black leather pants that were tight enough to see a pulse through; but even more disturbing to Laverne were the way that Lizard was eyeing Frankie.

 

“Hey,” her son mumbled, for once his gift of gab abandoning him.

 

“Hey yourself,” she replied in a voice that eerily reminded Laverne of the girl’s Aunt Squendolyn.  Just before she was institutionalized, of course.  “Which one are you?  The dumb jock, or the guy who dropped out of college?”

 

Frankie winced, as he returned to his normally combative self.  “I’m the cool brother who’s fronting his own band.”

 

Lizard said nothing, but looked him up and down like he was the blue plate special.  “You’re still playing,” she sniffed.  “Punk is SO dead…”

 

“That’s why we went Industrial..”

 

“Industrial is SO two weeks ago…”

 

“Which is why we’re sort of a jazz fusion/metal/hip hop thing now…”

 

The girl smiled, an eerie smile. “Interesting.  You and I should talk.”

 

Now it was Frankie’s turn to smirk.  “Why?”

 

The girl’s burgundy grin grew wider, almost resembling a human smile.  “Because Numb-Nuts, some associates of mine are starting an Indie label up in San Francisco, and they’re always looking for new talent-or someone like you.  Of course,” she continued, linking her arm through his as she pulled Frankie towards the kitchen, “You’ll need representation.  Whom are you signed with?”

 

“Ahem,” Frankie coughed, “we’re uh, we’re between agents at the moment.”

 

“Good,” Lizard purred.  “I was hoping coming here wouldn’t be a total waste of time…”

 

Laverne watched the young couple, flabbergasted.  She looked at Lenny, and was slightly relieved to see that he looked a trifle pale as well.

 

“Uh, Squig?” Lenny sputtered…

 

“Len, Len, Len,” the smaller man said as he put a brotherly arm about Lenny’s shoulders.  “As much as I love my boy, my first born, the fruit of my looms; I gotta admit that Liz is the pick of the Squigman litter box.”

 

“Speaking of,” Laverne said as she peered nervously out of her back door, “where is Rocco?”

 

“He had to take care of the business back in Osh Kosh,” Patty said quickly.

 

“And he’s still not allowed to leave the jurisdiction yet,” Squiggy hollered over his shoulder.  “That’s neither there nor here.  It looks like my little girl is going to go into the family business…”

 

“She’s going to work at the arcade?” Lenny asked.

 

“No, no!” Squiggy scoffed.  “The real family business.”

 

“She’s going to be a grifter like her grandpa!”

 

“Bite your face!  I’m talking about the talent business.  You know, the business we had before you started wasting time selling ice cream and being a father.”

 

“Squig…”

 

The smaller man ignored him.  “She doesn’t want to go into movies though-to closed off, and with that plastic ceiling-Pheh!  She wants to manage bands!  Have you heard of “Death Cab for Cutie”?”

 

“Yeah,” Lenny said, as he straightened his shoulders.

 

“Well, so have I.  And one of the bands Liz is working with right now sounds kinda sorta like them, if they were Ska.”

 

Laverne was amused to see Patty wince, and for the first time felt a kinship with the woman.  “Patty, we have some wine.  Would you like,” Laverne started as she reached into the cabinet and proffered a bottle of white and a bottle of red.

 

“Yes.” Was the other woman’s terse reply.

 

 

 

 

Rhonda graciously accepted the glass of merlot.  “Thank you, Paul.  You are so gallant…”

 

“You flatter me, Rhonda.  I’m sure that you are used to scads of men leaping to your beck and call back in Reno.”

 

She laughed, her practiced chuckle, warm yet controlled.  “Scads, yes- men, hardly.  Most of the men Rhonda encounters these days are employees and entertainers.”

 

“I can’t imagine how many fascinating and famous people you must rub shoulders with on a daily basis.”

 

“Rhonda’s little cabaret does well, but Rhonda can hardly call it A list with a straight face.  Reno just doesn’t generate the same level of buzz with Hollywood that Las Vegas does,” She said, a hint of longing in her voice.

 

He made a face.  “I wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to call those reality star nobodies who dwell on the tabloids A-list. Anymore.”  At her stunned expression, he added.  “Well, I glance at them when I’m in line at the supermarket.”

 

“True.  Unfortunately, talent seems to take a back seat to notoriety--and no longer in the good way.”

 

Paul chuckled, as his eyes twinkled in a way she was beginning to find charming..  “There’s no mystique in it any more.  Everyone seems to be an insider.  I know I’m dating myself, but I remember when the industry was glamorous; or at least seemed that way to a physics nerd pining in his dorm room.  I mean, I’m not naïve; but Hollywood used to give the average person something to believe in.  It used to be like almost a magical place where only the beautiful and the talented lived.”  Paul shook his head sadly and drained his glass.  “Not anymore when anyone can access JPEGs of celebrity’s doing god knows what on the Internet.  Not that I do that,” he said quickly.  “ Much.”

 

Rhonda giggled.  “It’s true.  There used to be camaraderie, an almost secret club of, “Yes, I was at that party when Rock Hudson did such and such” and “Yes, my hair dresser told me that this is the same color that she used on Barbara Bain.”  It’s different now.  Hollywood is no longer an exclusive boutique of chic, it’s become…”  She struggled with the words to express the current banality of what had once been an entertainment mecca.

 

“Wal-Mart?” Paul offered helpfully.

 

“Yes, Wal-Mart.”

 

Paul scooted closer to her on the couch conspiratorially, “When I was in high school back in New York, I was rushing down a mid town sidewalk one rainy afternoon when I saw a woman attempting to hail a cab.” 

 

He shook his head.  “I don’t know why I did it, I’ve never done anything that brave or bold before or since, but I stepped right into the traffic, held up my thin, adolescent hand and shrieked at the top of my puberty-ravaged lungs “Stop” right into an on coming taxi.  Why he didn’t run me down, I’ll never know, but the cabby braked to a screeching halt.”

 

“Oh my…”

 

“ The cabby came barreling out of the door, most likely intent on giving me the thrashing of my young life, when the woman stepped between us.  The cabbie stopped, his jaw dropped to the ground, and he immediately opened the door of the cab for the lady.  At that moment she turned to me, beautiful in a charcoal suit, veiled had, and elegantly held cigarette lighter and said in a throaty voice, “Thanks, sport!” then pecked me on the cheek.  Right here,” he said pointing to a spot two millimeters above his neatly trimmed beard on his left check.

 

“Who was she?”

 

“Brace yourself.”

 

“Rhonda’s braced.”

 

“Bette Davis.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes!  And every bit as glamorous, assertive, and alive as you would imagine.  I don’t think I washed that cheek for a week.”

 

Rhonda’s nose wrinkled in disgust.  “Ewww…”

 

“Well, when my acne kicked into gear, it became a necessity.  But, it’s never stopped tingling.”

 

Rhonda leaned toward s him and kissed his cheek softly.  “You’re right.  Rhonda can still feel it after all of this time.”

 

 

 

“And take this in as well,” Laverne said, as she loaded Andy down with a roasted turkey platter in one hand, a sweet potato casserole in the other, and shoved a basket of rolls in his teeth.

 

“Uhurh,” Andy grunted, though his eyes spoke words that he was far too careful to say in his mother’s presence.

 

“C’mon, you’re a strapping big guy, and I’m a little old granny with brittle bones.” She joked.

 

It worked, nearly too well, as Andy nearly guffawed the basket and the rolls on to the floor.

 

Laverne surveyed the crowded kitchen, dining area, living room and back yard quickly.  Rhonda and Paul had cloistered themselves into a quiet corner on the deck, speaking quietly to each other and laughing softly.  They had discovered earlier that evening that they were both booked into the Pasadena Marriott Inn, and Paul had gallantly offered Rhonda a ride back to their hotel after dinner.  Who knew what Rhonda was going to offer him later, mused Laverne.

 

Shirley stood outside in the backyard, relieving Skye by entertaining little Leon.  Her love for small children evident as always, Shirley was helping the child collect pebbles from the rock border next to the detached garage and deliver them to the front steps as Walter stood by awkwardly, with his hands in his pants pockets looking like he wanted to be anywhere other than the Kosnowski’s front yard. 

 

Laverne’s brow furrowed in irritation.  Since she and Shirley had rekindled their friendship, she had been surprised to learn how bad her best friend’s marriage had become, and how alone she truly was.  Ever the optimist, Shirley had refused to give in to defeat, instead she was always trying to battle the ever-present ennui by over involving them in Kaitlin’s life, travel, and mutual hobbies.  The result?  Kaitlyn spent more time with Andy than she ever had in the past, the Meaney’s went to New Zealand for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, and they spent long awkward walks with each other on the golf course.

 

And Shirley seemed lonelier than ever in Laverne’s eyes.  Laverne pushed down her anger and focused on mashing the potatoes in the stockpot with a blender.  The combination of potatoes, cream, and garlic became Walter’s face more with each passing moment.  Marriages have problems, she reasoned.  God knows that she and Lenny had gone through their share…  The only difference is that they had both tried to work things through.  Shirley was fighting her battle alone.

 

A fingertip tapping on her shoulder pulled her away from further mutilation of the good doctor’s effigy.

 

“Hey,” said a pale faced Marianne Ragusa, “I think you won.” She said, indicating the almost too mashed and runny potatoes.

 

“It was never a fair fight,” Laverne quipped.

 

“Is it ever when it’s woman versus vegetable?’

 

“Let’s leave my ex boyfriends out of it.”

 

Marianne smiled, her father’s smile, in Laverne’s opinion.  She’d never met Anita Vargas-Ragusa, only seen pictures of the former model, now soap queen.  Carmine never spoke much about his brief marriage, but those two had put together a beautiful baby until things got rough.

 

“How are you doing,” Laverne queried gently.

 

Marianne shrugged.  “I’m ok.”

 

“Really?”  Even though Skye was her daughter, Laverne had always felt a kinship with Carmine’s daughter.  Marianne’s love of adventure and life made her remember her younger self-sometimes jealously as she envied the younger girl’s independence and sense of self.

 

Marianne nodded, then looked away as the charred burners on Laverne’s stove suddenly became the most fascinating sight in the universe.

 

“You can’t kid a kidder, kiddo…”

 

“And you can’t play a player,” Marianne answered with a grin.  “It’s my dad,” she blurted, as the smile faded from her face.

 

“Aww…  Is he still bugging you to settle down and have kids?  I swear he’s as bad as my Pop used to be…”

 

Marianne shook her head.  “No.  That I can handle.  And by handle, I mean tune out.  He’s just been weird lately.”

 

“Weird?”

 

“Too on.  You know, like he when he’s being interviewed.  He smiles too much, doesn’t answer any questions directly, and changes the subject every ten seconds.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Yeah.  I mean, I’ve always seen this side of him.  He was like this when I was a kid and he ran into his fans on the street.  You know…”

 

“Mr. Every Man for Everybody,” Laverne said dryly.  “Yeah, I know how he can be.”

 

“He’s never been like this around me before.  Every time I call him, I get his voice mail, and he’s not answering his email.  When he does, it’s just to forward me some lame joke, not to talk or anything.  I just don’t get it.  Has he talked to you?”

 

Laverne shook her head.  “No, he hasn’t.  But we usually only talk a couple of times a month though, and he and Lenny exchange lame email jokes.”

 

“Maybe it’s me.  Maybe he just doesn’t have anything to say.”

 

“What are the odds?”

 

“Have you talked to his new girlfriend?”  Laverne asked before she caught herself.  Carmine’s relationships tended to last less than four weeks.  She and Lenny had learned long ago not to get to close to the women in Carmine’s life, or even to bother to learn their last names.

 

Marianne rolled her eyes.  “I’d have to be introduced first.  All I know is that she’s an agent and her name is Bethany.”

 

The sight of Liz putting her hand on Frankie’s knee as they laughed at a mutual joke momentarily distracted Laverne.  “An agent.  Great.”

 

“I know, I-“  Marianne closed her mouth as what little color she had drained from her face. 

 

Laverne followed the young woman’s gaze out her kitchen window and to the couple getting out the silver Porsche.  The man was Carmine, and the woman was-oh boy.  Now she understood the cause of Marianne’s sudden and uncharacteristic muteness.

 

The woman-girl, Laverne corrected herself, couldn’t have been anymore than twenty two.  Tall, with long, envious, sunstreaked California blond locks, and a body that went with the hair.  When the stranger turned to look at the house, any hope that Laverne may have harbored of her having a face like the Elephant Man was dashed.  “Oh boy,” she whispered aloud.

 

Marianne stood stock still, her lips moving, but no sound coming out.

 

Carmine burst through the door with his usual bravado, “Hey, it’s the Big Ragoo!” he said, as he pulled Skye into a bear hug.  He smiled when he saw his daughter.  He released Skye, and held his hand out to Marianne.  “Angelface…”

 

“Daddy…”

 

“Carmine.”

 

Carmine whirled around in surprise to see Shirley standing in the doorway.  “Ang-Shirley.”

 

Shirley’s eyes brightened, and she blinked.  “Carmine,” she said as she briefly gave him a loose hug and a peck on the cheek.

 

The young woman behind Carmine cleared her throat, her enhanced lower lip drooping into a pout.  “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Sweetie?” she said in a voice straight from Encino.

 

Carmine blinked several times, and tore his eyes from Shirley.  “Uh, yeah.  Everybody, this is Bethany.  Bethany, this is, uh, everybody.”

 

“Camine, my good man,” oozed Squiggy as he slithered past Laverne and Marianne to get a better look.  “I didn’t know that you had another daughter…”

 

“Squig.  After all these years, it’s still not a pleasure to see you.”

 

Bethany regarded Squiggy with a look that most people would reserve for a full litter box.  “Are you anyone important?” she asked.

 

“Squigman’s the name, skeeball’s the game,” he said with a flourish.

 

“I’m guessing not,” Bethany replied.

 

“You guessed right, honey,” Carmine said as he led her past the gawking crew in the kitchen and into the living room.

 

Bethany surveyed the room with ill concealed distaste.  “So we’re spending Thanksgiving here?”

 

“I told you that I had plans with some old friends,” Carmine said through clenched teeth as he continued to stare at Shirley.

 

“I thought you meant “old friends”, not “friends who are old”,” was Bethany’s whiny retort.

 

“Tart,” Shirley said.

 

“What?”

 

“I said would you like one of these mushroom and basil tarts that I made, dear.  They’re really delicious.”

 

Bethany spared the small platter that Shirley offered a quick glance before sniffing, “No thanks.  I’ve finished my food for the day.”

 

“It’s only two in the afternoon,” said Laverne.

 

“And?” Bethany said as her eyes raked Laverne up and down and lingered on her ass.

 

“Why I oughta,” Laverne growled, fully prepared to lunge at the younger woman.

 

“The turkey’s ready!  Chirped Lenny, a little too brightly as he put his arm around Laverne in what looked like a hug but was more akin to a half nelson.  “Oh, look, you made mushed potatoes.  Yum,” Lenny continued to babble.  “Let’s all grab some plates,” he said as he continued to steer Laverne away from Bethany.

 

Laverne continued to glare at Bethany, but allowed her husband to pull her towards the table.  Besides, she reasoned, Shirley had now effectively put herself squarely between herself and the little hussy, so she wouldn’t have gotten too far.

 

Shirley, her bright hostessy smile in full wattage nodded.  “Lenny’s right.  Almost everyone’s here, so let’s just start.  Okay, Vernie?”

 

Laverne grunted in response, and then retreated to the kitchen. 

 

“Marianne,” Carmine said as he extended his hand.  “I want you to meet someone, a very special someone…”

 

“Hello,” Marianne purred, in a voice totally devoid of warmth.  “I’m Marianne, Carmine’s daughter.”

 

“It’s a pleasure,” Bethany said, as she held out her hand.

 

“Beth?” 

 

Skye had walked through the doorway with Leon and his diaper bag in tow.  “Beth Langschwadt?”

 

“Excuse me?”  Bethany’s face had colored a bit, and she was looking less comfortable by the moment.

 

“It’s me, Skye Kosnowski.  From Palisades High?  Class of ’89?  Although, I think you were a year behind…”

 

“Two years behind us,” chimed in Marianne as she drained her third glass of wine.

 

Carmine’s grin dropped about six notches.  “So, you two know each other then?” he asked, as his eyes darted nervously from face to face.

 

Marianne smirked.  “Sort of.  I was assigned to be Beth’s peer mentor when I was in the tenth grade after she moved here from Fresno.  By the way, Beth, how’s it going in the big city?”

 

“Why don’t we just start a buffet line right here,” interjected Shirley, as she stepped between the two women.

 

“Everyone else go ahead,” snapped Marianne, “I think I need some air.”  With that, she barreled out the back door, nearly flattening the couple coming in.

 

“Karen,” Lenny said in a flat tone.

 

Karen Caldwell had changed over the years, realized Laverne.  The chubby, preppy, coed had matured into a well-rounded earth-mother type with a predilection for crystals.  The man walking in with Karen, however, was the one who grabbed her attention.

 

Benji.  Benjamin.  The jerk from the protest march whose van she had stolen thirty odd years ago.  Suddenly Marianne’s self-medicating with merlot sounded like a wonderful idea.

 

Karen smiled at Lenny, a bland motion that one would spend on a stranger.  “Lenny, you’re looking well.”

 

“Well, yeah.  Here’s a plate,” he grunted as he backed away from her, eyes averted.

 

His awkwardness left no impression on Karen.  “I apologize for being late, but Benjamin’s had a phone interview this morning, and it ran long.”

 

Benji stepped forward, pushing his glasses up his nose with his forefinger-a gesture which still irritated Laverne, she was surprised to realize, and said, “Nouveau Republic” is featuring my writing in it’s January issue."

 

Paul frowned, “you mean, New Republic, don’t you?”

 

Benji sniffed disdainfully.  “No, I do not.  “Nouveau Republic” is a smaller, yet more discriminating publication that caters to the upper echelon of modern day philosophers.”

 

“What is there circulation?” asked Paul, who was baffling Laverne with his curiosity.

 

Benji flushed, before quietly stammering, “About seventy five copies or so.”

 

“Indeed,” remarked Paul, before smirking and returning his full attention back to Rhonda.

 

Laverne spent most of the meal pushing her food around on her plate.  Frankie was right she had to admit.  Her turkey was better than this overcooked and bland crap.  Next year, she’d do it herself.

 

What the hell was she talking about?  After tonight, she was going to boycott thanksgiving for all eternity.  She stole a quick glance at her husband.  Lenny was methodically shoving food into his mouth and staring at his plate, while Karen prattled on about every topic under the sun.

 

“So, how did you two meet,” Skye asked Karen. 

 

“I met Benjamin at a protest march back in Berkeley in ’72.”

 

Laverne fork dropped loudly onto her plate, before she could stop it.

 

Karen blathered on, oblivious to her hostess’s discomfort.  “I was having a very difficult day, dear.  I had just found out I was pregnant with you and was debating on how, or if, I was going to tell your father, when my friend, Eloise…”

 

“I thought her name was Breeze,” grumbled Lenny, his eyes still glued to his plate.

 

Karen shot him a quick look of irritation.  “She went back to Eloise years ago.  Havent’ you kept up with anyone from the commune?”

 

Lenny smiled for the first time that night, but Laverne didn’t think that look was an improvement.  “I had enough of them when I lived with them all those years ago.”

 

“You were in a commune?”  Walter looked aghast.  At Lenny’s nod, he continued.  “You were part of that whole protest, free love, and drugs nonsense?” 

 

Laverne was mildly amused to see Andy glance at her, a look of terror on his young face, as he mouthed, “Help?”

 

Lenny’s brow furrowed.  “Hey!  If it hadn’t been for free love and drugs, Skye wouldn’t be here today.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” his eldest child murmured.

 

“Anyhow,” Karen said, her voice carrying over the others, “Benji and I had a long talk on how we were shaping the future and any child being born then wouldn’t have the hang ups that our generation had, and how they would build a better society.”

 

Frankie raised his Pepsi in toast.  “Way to go, Skye!”, as Liz guffawed.

 

“Hmmph…” Lenny snorted.  “As I remember it, you were barely speaking with me that day.  Glad you found someone to talk to…”

 

Karen flushed.  “Benjamin and I didn’t become close until years later.  He went home with Eloise that nice because some insane girl stole his van.”

 

Laverne’s plate fell to the floor, clattering loudly.  She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.  “Marie,” she said to her granddaughter, “Wanna help Grandma clean up this mess?”

 

Marie nodded, and jumped off of her chair with all of the glee of a child feeling that there was an important task at hand.

 

“Karen, are you telling me that this bozo,” Lenny gestured towards Benjamin with his fork, “knew about Skye before I did?”

 

“Well, in an abstract sort of way, yes,” Karen said.

 

“What does art have to do with this?”  Lenny asked, clearly bewildered.

 

Karen rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation.  “Not that kind of abstract.  I can’t believe that I used to find your naiveté charming.”

 

In a moment, Laverne was on her feet and standing beside Karen.  “Don’t you dare have the nerve to crash our Thanksgiving dinner and say rotten things about Lenny!”

 

“You tell her, Vernie!” piped up Shirley, her vehemence surprising the rest of the crowd.

 

“Skye was kind enough to invite you for dinner,” Laverne continued, as if oblivious to the tense faces around her, “because she didn’t want you to have to be alone on Thanksgiving, and this is how you repay her?”

 

“Before you start running to St. Lenny’s rescue,” growled Karen, as she pushed herself up from the table and glared at Laverne, “you may want to have all of the information.  I wanted to tell him about Skye, but he ran out of the van.  I found him making out with some slut in front of a porto john right before the cops broke up the protest.”  Karen threw her napkin down angrily onto the table.  “I am so sick and tired of everyone making me out to be the bad guy.  Lenny wasn’t exactly a saint when we were together.”

 

“It was only that one time!” Lenny shouted.  “Honest, Vernie,” he said as he turned to his wife, “as bad as things were with Karen, I still didn’t cheat on her any other time.”  His eyes looked at her pleadingly.

 

Laverne ignored him, her eyes boring angrily into Karen’s.  “Well, that’s a lovely thing to drop at a family dinner table, Karen.  How long have you been waiting to say that to me and to Skye?  What did you think would happen, that Skye would hate her dad?  That Lenny and me would have a fight?”  Laverne shook her head, as a sensation between disgust and pity took hold of her.  “You really don’t know any of us all that well, do you?”

 

“I know Lenny about as well as you do!”

 

“Bull shit.”  Laverne regretted her words when she saw Brandon clap his hands over Marie’s ears, but she pressed on.  “You haven’t told me anything important tonight at all, Karen.”  She leaned closer, her green eyes narrowing in spite.  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.  I was the slut at the porto john!”

 

“Earmuffs!” cried out Frankie, and he clapped his hands over Leon’s ears.

 

“Vernie?”  Lenny looked at her in disbelief.

 

“I knew I had seen you somewhere before!”  Benji hollered as he rose from the table.  “You never gave me your end of the gas money, plus you stole my van!”

 

“I left it in the parking lot of your apartment-it wasn’t stealing,” replied Laverne.

 

“Enough!”  Skye’s voice cut through the din like a knife through butter.  “Karen, I invited you here tonight thinking that we could all behave like adults,” she said, as she looked over the shocked faces at the table.  “Well, that’s not happening, so you and what’s-his-face need to go.  Now.”

 

“My name is Benjamin.”

 

“Who gives a shit?”

 

“Skye!” Brandon hissed as he once again covered his daughter’s ears.

 

“Skye,” Karen started, as she reached out to the young woman.

 

“No.  You two need to go.  Now.”  Skye mumbled as she dashed out of the back door.

 

Frankie stood up.  “I think you heard my sister,” he said, his eyes never leaving Benjamin.

 

Benjamin took Karen’s arm and led her to the door, his steps quickened as both Frankie and walked them to their car.

 

At the sound of the door shutting, everyone at the table let out a collective sigh of relief.

 

Andy stood up, and tapped his spoon against his glass.  “Everyone, Caitlyn and I have an announcement to make…”

 

Caitlyn grabbed his arm.  “Are you nuts?”  she stage whispered.

 

Andy regarded her evenly.  “You were afraid we’d ruin Thanksgiving, and that boat already sailed.”

 

Laverne’s gut clenched, as she prayed that it had nothing to do with a stick turning blue.  “What’s the big announcement?”

 

“I got a job!”   Andy smiled as he continued.  “It’s with a small local TV station.  I’d mainly be covering the smaller events, you know, high school games and the local minor league team, and I’d alternate when the lead sports writer is on vacation…”

 

Andy’s words were cut off by Lenny’s bear hug.  “My boy’s a writer!  My son is a college graduate with a job!”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” mumbled Frankie.  Frankie’s face melted in a smile when he turned towards his brother.  “Way to go…”

 

Laverne stared at Frankie.  “You didn’t know?”

 

Andy cleared his throat.  “Uh, I wanted to check some stuff out before I told anyone.  There’s more,” he added.  “The job is in San Diego, and I start in two weeks.”

 

“San Diego?”  Laverne inhaled.  He was moving away.  Another one of her babies was leaving the nest.

 

“Mom, it’s only three hours away.”

 

“Four.”

 

“Three if I ride my bike really fast.”

 

“That’s not helping me, Andy.”  Laverne forced a smile.  “I’m proud of you,” she said in all sincerity.

 

Andy’s grin flickered.  “I hope you’ll still feel that way in a few minutes.”  Pointedly, he looked at Caitlyn. 

 

The girl nervously cleared her throat.  “Grams, Pop.  I have something to tell you.  I’m going to move in with Andy after I graduate.”  She said the words quickly, then pulled back, as if expecting a blow.

 

“The hell you are!” Walter sputtered.  “You are not going to shack up with some guy, case closed!”

 

Caitlyn stood taller and looked her grandfather in the eye.  “He’s not some guy, he’s Andy.  I’m in love with him.”

 

“Caitlyn,” Shirley said, eerily calm, “don’t you think that you’re too young to settle down?  You’re barely twenty one, and you have your whole life ahead of you.”

 

Caitlyn smiled.  “I know Grams, that’s why were going to live together.”

 

Walter snorted.  “Do you think he’s going to propose?  Why should he buy the cow if he can get the milk for free?”

 

Andy slammed his hand on the table loudly.  “You owe Caitlyn an apology for that remark,” he said to Walter.  His appearance softened, as he looked at Shirley.  “Mrs. Meaney-Shirley, I love Caitlyn.  We are too young to get married, and we know that.  But, we will one day, that’s a when, not an if.”

 

Shirley stared at Andy for a long moment.  “I really don’t believe in this living together thing.  I never have.  But, I believe that you two need to take things at your own pace.”

 

“What!”  Walter jumped up from the table and stared at his wife.  “I can’t believe that you are condoning them playing house!”

 

“Walter, I just said that I’m not thrilled with it.”

 

Walter turned his attention towards his granddaughter.  “Young lady, this is nonsense.  You are not going to shack up with this character, and that’s that.  If you don’t like it, you can find your own way to fund your tuition.”

 

“Nonsense!”  Shirley exclaimed.” Caitlyn is not going to choose between getting an education and the man she loves.  She’s going to have the full opportunity to go after both.  Turning towards her granddaughter, she asked, “you’re not going to move in until after graduation, right?”

 

Caitlyn shook her head.  “Off course not!  I know that it’s important to you that I finish school, but it’s also important to me.  Believe me, both of you.  I’m not following Andy blindly.  If he’d gotten that job in Omaha,” she said, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.  I’ve already sent my portfolio out to some agencies in San Diego.  Two want to interview me after I graduate, and one wants me to some freelance work already.  I’m not choosing one over the other, Grams.  I’m choosing both.”

 

“That’s my girl.  I know that you’ll do what’s right for you.  Besides,” she said, her voice taking on a hint of quiet steel, “don’t worry about the tuition.  Really.”

 

“Thanks,” she said as she hugged her grandmother as her grandfather stormed out of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marianne Ragusa stubbed out her fourth cigarette on the metal railing of the ancient swingset in the Kosnowski’s backyard.  She loved the horrible old eyesore, she thought.  It was old, mostly rusted through, and hideously painted in alternating flaking strips of white, turquoise, and orange.  Yet, when Skye’s parents had bought their house, one of the first things they did is buy the swingset.  It became their fort, their place for telling each other their secrets and dreams, their clubhouse.  It was home.

 

“I thought you quit?”

 

Marianne gave a wan smile as her best friend approached her.  “Last week.  I decided to start again.”

 

Skye settled herself on the seat beside her, the rusty chains creaking from her wait on the bench.  “And you just happened to have a pack with you?”

 

“I’m always prepared.  I was a brownie for a whole two weeks.”

 

Skye grinned.  “Until we got kicked out…”

 

“Good times…”  Embarrassment forced the glib tone from Marianne’s voice.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to ruin Thanksgiving.”

 

Skye rolled her eyes and snorted, “Please.  Like your little drama fest could have.  The real fun started after you left.”

 

“Really?  What could top my dad bringing one of our classmates here as his girlfriend?  Is Brandon a transvestite?  Are you pregnant with quadruplets?”

 

“No, and ick!  I threw Karen and her psuedo-boyfriend out of the house.”

 

The fifth cigarette fell from Marianne’s lips when her jaw hit her lap.  “You’re kidding?”

 

“Nope.”  Skye began to swing, apparently heedless to the creaking of the rusted swingset.

 

Marianne wasn’t convinced.  “You, Miss-I-can-always-find-the-good-qualities-in-anyone-Kosnowski?”

 

“Yeppers.  She started babbling about some protest-era indiscretion that my dad may or may not have had with someone who may or may have not been my mom.”  As Marianne’s mouth opened, she said, “Trust me, sometimes you don’t want the details with those two.”

 

Marianne chuckled.  “That’s why they’re so wonderful together.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“They’re dysfunctional, but in a growing sort of way. “

 

Sky shook her head.  “I still don’t get it.”

 

“You look at them and you can see them having done all sorts of stupid shit in the past; but, you also see that they got through it all and learned from it.”  Marianne failed to see any comprehension in her friend’s face, so she tried another tactic.  “You’re parents have lived Skye, and they’re still together.  That’s nothing to sneeze at.  My father hasn’t changed at all.  He’s still the player that he was in the sixties.”

 

Now it was Skye’s turn to smirk.  “I wouldn’t exactly call uncle Carmine a player.”

 

“No?”

 

“Well, maybe.  I don’t know.  Maybe he’s just not the type to have long term relationships.”

 

“Fine.  I can live with that.  So why does he always have to look for one?  I’ve seen the way he treats the women he goes out with.  At first it’s all phone calls and flowers, and all sorts of romantic things; then-nothing.  He just quits calling, quits being anything to them.”

 

“You mean…”

 

Marianne shook her head.  “No, I don’t think he dumps them right after he sleeps with them.  He’s worse.  He dumps them right after they want to get emotionally intimate.”  Marianne reached for another Marlboro.  “It’s like he’s emotionally retarded or something.  He gets to certain point, and then he just shuts down.”

 

“Ahh.  Well, he IS a guy…”

 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong.  Some of these women I couldn’t wait for him to shake loose,” Marianne said, rolling her eyes and feigning a shudder.  “Let’s face it, my dad’s attractive, successful, and used to be pretty high profile.  He attracted his share of gold diggers and skanks.  Case in point,” she said, as she pointed to the house.

 

“Charming.”

 

“But he also attracted some really nice women as well.  A couple of them I wouldn’t have minded if he had become serious with them.  You know, women of substance, of character, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

 

“But?” Skye prodded.

 

“But, he pushes them away after a certain time.  Which, is why I wonder how old Beth has lasted as long as she had.  They’ve been going out for nearly two months.”

 

“Maybe she’s double jointed?”

 

“Ewww!  Hey, this IS my Dad we’re talking about.  Now I have that picture stuck in my head.”

 

Skye chuckled.  “Maybe it took your dad this long to realize that there’s nothing worth getting attached to?”

 

Marianne sighed.  “I don’t know…  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to go on about this.”

 

“Not a problem.  Uh oh, don’t look now, but there’s a boy at three o clock…”

 

“Where?”

 

Skye giggled.  “Well, you’re looking at nine o clock.  Three o clock is to your left.”

 

“I wish you’d speak English.  Hey!  This is the girls’ swingset, no boys allowed.”

 

Brendon held up his right hand, the forefinger and the middle finger crossed.  “I’ve been vaccinated against cooties.  I’m safe.”

 

“So you say.  Do you want to vouch for him?” she asked Skye.

 

“Well, I did have two of his kids.  I think he’s borderline trustworthy.”

 

Brendon eyed the swingset warily.  “You two know that thing is creaking, don’t you?”

 

“Know, but don’t care,” sang out Marianne.

 

“Alrighty, then.”

 

“Brandon, just say it,” Skye blurted out.  “You were right and I was wrong.”

 

“I didn’t come out here for that.  I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.  I brought a piece offering, he said proffering a half empty bottle of wine and three plastic cups.”

 

“I like this one, you were right to breed with him,” stage whispered Marianne.

 

Skye frowned.  “Only a half a bottle.”

 

He shrugged.  “Your mom, Shirley, and Patty, have pretty much sucked down all the rest of the booze in the house.  I was lucky to liberate this one.”

 

“Brendon, you were right.  I shouldn’t have invited Karen and ruined Thanksgiving.”  Skye looked at the ground, embarrassment evident on her features.

 

Her husband shook his head.  “Hey, I was there.  What happened was Karen’s fault.”

 

“I invited her.”

 

“Yeah, but she also had the opportunity to make this work, and she didn’t.  For someone who goes on and on, and on”, he said rolling his eyes for emphasis, “about how in tune she is with the inherent oneness of the universe, she’s a pretty narcissistic boor.”

 

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” Skye said, as she kicked the pebbles underneath her swing.

 

Brendon smiled, and kissed her quickly.  “I’m a nice guy.  That’s why you had babies with me.”

 

“Speaking of which, where are the rug rats.”

 

“They’re helping Karen and Bethany put away the sharp knives”

 

“What?” Skye and Marianne shrieked in unison as they jumped off of their swings.

 

Brendon chuckled.  “You two are too easy…  Our spawn are playing with Frankie and Liz.  Marie wants a lip ring just like cool uncle Frankie.”

 

Skye groaned.  “I’m more comfortable with the knives scenario.”

 

“Speaking of,” Brendan continued, “Bethany was calling a cab when I left.”

 

Marianne perked up immediately.  “Really?”

 

Brandon nodded.  “Now’s a perfect time for you to speak with your dad.”

 

Marianne shook her head.  “No, I’m going to let him come to me this time, if that’s what he wants.  I need to step back.”

 

Brandon shrugged, the looked up at the creaking cross beam.  “You know that there’s a reason we don’t let our kids play on this tetnus-infested relic, don’t you.”

 

“Yep,” said Skye as she began to swing higher.

 

“Room for one more?”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

Marianne winked.  “He has had his cootie shots, Skye.”

 

Skye pursed her lips, as if thinking it over.  “Okay, but you can’t bring your GI Joes.”

 

“Deal.”  Brandon gingerly sat himself down on the larger bench, wincing as the metal structure groaned.

 

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked.

 

 

 

 

 

Carmine watched as the cab pulled out of the driveway.  Good-bye, future, he thought.  He turned to go back into the small house, already trying to think of a wiseass remark for the people inside when the sound of creaking metal caught his attention.

 

He squinted-- Lasix be damned, he still had to squint at distances-- and saw three figures on the ancient swingset in the Kosnowski backyard.  Damn kids, he thought.  They were old enough to know better than to play on that thing.  Someone was going to end up in the emergency room that night he thought, and then shivered.

 

The hand on his back made him jump in surprise.

 

“Are you okay?” Shirley asked, her eyes filled with concern.

 

Out of habit, he smiled.  “Sure, wonderful.  No worries.  Just seeing Bethany off is all.”

 

“I’m sorry she felt that she had to leave.”

 

“No your not.”

 

“You’re right.  I was just being polite.”  She turned to leave, but he put out his hand to stop her.

 

“I’m sorry.  You’ve been through the ringer yourself tonight with the whole Caitlyn and Andy thing.”

 

Shirley just shrugged.  “Caitlyn is an adult.  Her choices are things that she has to live with.  I’m just sorry that Walter made such a scene.”

 

“That’s never easy news for a father-or a grandfather to hear.”

 

“Life isn’t easy, Carmine.  Haven’t you learned that already?”

 

“Good point.  I’m glad you stood up for her, though.  Your opinion seems to matter to her a lot.”

 

“I don’t believe in living together.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

“I wish she was living on her own, or moving into an apartment with a girlfriend.”

 

He grinned.  “Those were good times…”

 

“Those were the best of times.  I regret not fully appreciating them at the time.  It was wonderful to be out on my own, making my own way in the world.”

 

“Yet all you wanted was to find a husband,” Carmine said, instantly regretting his words.

 

“Yes,” she admitted.  “I wish I hadn’t made it such a priority, though.  There’s a lot to be said about being single.”

 

“It can be lonely,” he said, once again looking down the road where the cab had disappeared around the bend.

 

“So can marriage.  You’ve been there, you know that.”

 

He looked up sharply at her remark, biting back a retort.  “Yeah.”

 

“I used to watch your show, sometimes.  Between housework and taking the kids to their activities.  You became a terrific actor.”

 

“Thanks,” he said no knowing what else to say.

 

“I watched a few episodes of your wife’s show too.  I can see why you married her, she’s beautiful.”

 

He nodded.  “Anita was-is very good looking.”

 

“Why didn’t it work?” She asked, in a voice so soft that she could have been conversing with herself.

 

He shrugged.  “We wanted different things, we were very different personalities, which answer do you want, Shirley?  I used to use them both in People Magazine quotes.”

 

“What is the truth?”

 

“The truth was we got married for the wrong reasons.  We had a lot of chemistry, we were both in the business-so we knew the lifestyle.  And, we were pregnant.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not.  Anita and I weren’t meant to be, but we lucked out with Marianne.”  Earlier memories of the evening flashed through his mind unbidden.  “God, she’s so pissed off at me right now.”

 

”Most likely.  That was sort of a Jerry Springer moment.”

 

Carmine groaned.  “I’m sorry you saw that to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I haven’t seen you in how many years?  I’m not exactly at my best tonight.”

 

“Sometimes, when you’re not at your best, you are the most you.”

 

Carmine blinked.  “Huh?”

 

“I’m sorry.  It’s the wine talking.  I didn’t eat much dinner, and then had two glasses when Walter drove out of here like a bat out of hell.”

 

“He left you here?”

 

She shook her head.  “He just went home early.  We were going to spend the night, and Laverne and I were going to hit the sales tomorrow morning.”

 

“Oh,” he said, surprised at the disappointment that he was feeling.  “I’m glad that you two are speaking again.”

 

She shook her head.  “We never weren’t speaking, we just weren’t listening to each other.  I missed her.  A lot.”

 

“Laverne is good people.  She’s probably the closest friend I’ve ever had.”

 

“And she was more?”  Her question hung in the air

 

“She told you?”

 

“No.  I’ve just been listening better.”

 

“It was after you left.”  Even after all those years, the bitterness in his voice surprised Carmine.  “It didn’t last too long.”

 

“I gathered.”

 

“We were lonely, and trying to get over your leaving.  I didn’t even know about the whole Lenny and Laverne thing back then.”  Inwardly, Carmine was wondering why he felt the urge to explain this to her.  He owed Shirley nothing.  She had left first.

 

“From the way Laverne tells it, neither did they.”

 

“You’re not mad?”

 

Shirley smiled sadly.  “No.  I might have been back then, but I’m not now.  I abandoned all claims when I married Walter.”

 

“Those were crazy times,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.  “I’m glad that Laverne and I could remain friends.  I don’t regret what happened between us, but losing her as a friend would have killed me”.  He let out a short, bitter laugh.  “I think the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a woman is my friendship with Laverne.”  He remembered to whom he was speaking and awkwardly apologized, “I’m sorry.  I should keep my big mouth shut.”

 

“No.  You’re being honest with me, Carmine.  I respect that.  I’ve always sort of been a little jealous of the rapport you two had,” Shirley admitted.

 

“What?  Shirl, there was only that one time back in Milwaukee…”

 

Shirley shook her head.  “Not jealous that way.  I just always thought you were yourself with her more than you were with me.”

 

“Well, yeah.  To a point,” he admitted reluctantly.

 

“See?”

 

He shook his head and tried to will her to understand his words.  “I was in love with you.  My feelings for you were a lot heavier, I put more thought into everything that I did with you.  Everything was more important, if that makes any sense.”

 

She evidently got it.  “We were too hung up on being boyfriend and girlfriend to be ourselves, weren’t we?”

 

“Sort of.  I think that’s why we weren’t exclusive so much of the time.”

 

“Well, that and the fact that you had a thing for rich divorcees…”

 

“And your fascination with anything in a lab coat or business suit…” He grinned.  Words that would have shredded them to the very fiber of their being decades ago were bandied about in sport.  Maturity could be beautiful.

 

“Look at us now.  I got my guy in a lab coat,” she sighed.

 

“And I made a very rich divorcee…”

 

“Did you ever think it would turn out this way?  That we’d ever turn out this way?”

 

“I don’t know.  I mean, I’m not much of a planner.  Everything has always been focused on the next job, the next show…”

 

“The next woman?” she prodded.

 

He shrugged again.  “Nothing lasts forever.  I’m living proof.”  His last words trailed off, and he silently cursed himself for getting into this conversation without the safety of his friends around him, his crutches.

 

“Was she important,” Shirley asked, gesturing towards the empty road.

 

“I thought she was.  She saved my life.”

 

“Carmine…”

 

“It was a couple of months ago.  I met her at a party.  We went back to my place… “ He stopped, wondering how the words were falling out of his mouth without permission.  Wondering why he was opening up to her of all people…  “My chest started to hurt, and she insisted on driving me to the emergency room.  I thought it was the Viagra.”

 

“But it wasn’t?”

 

“I had a heart attack.  Me, the guy with the one-eighty cholesterol and the daily workouts.”

 

She laid her hand on his arm.  “Carmine, I’m so sorry.”

 

He shook the hand off, embarrassed for feeling so week and naked in her eyes.  “It’s okay. It was a minor one.  The doctor gave me some pills, and I have to go in for bi monthly check ups from now on.”

 

“No wonder your daughter looks so stressed.”

 

“She doesn’t know, and I want to keep it that way.  No one knows except me, Bethany, and you,” he said, as his eyes begged for her silence, her complicity.

 

“Carmine…”

 

“I don’t want to worry Marianne.  She needs to live her life, not waste her youth by taking care of an old man.”

 

“You’re hardly an old man, Carmine.  Although, judging by the company you keep, I know why you might feel that way.”

 

“You don’t understand.  Bethany was there for me!  She got me to the hospital and waited for me all night.”

 

Shirley’s eyes grew wide, and her voice took on the lecturer’s tones that he hadn’t heard in so long.  “She did what any other decent human being would do, Carmine.  That’s hardly grounds to build a long-term relationship on!”

 

“It is in Hollywood!”

 

“Listen to yourself!  I have never heard you sound as needy and dependent as I am right now.  You don’t want your daughter to waste her time caring for you, but you’re willing to get another young woman to be your nursemaid under the pretext of a relationship? “  Shirley stared at him, aghast.  “Carmine, that’s twisted!”

 

He wasn’t in the mood for this.  “Shirl…” he began.

 

“And if you’d told Laverne or Lenny about your heart attack they would have told you the same thing!!”

 

“Shirley!”

 

There was no stopping her.  “Which is why you kept it a secret!.” She continued, “You know, you never could bear to hear the truth until you were ready, Carmine.  You haven’t changed all that much.”

 

That did it, and Carmine felt his self-control leave him.  “I have changed, Shirley!  That night in the emergency room let me know loud and clear that nothing is forever, and there might not ever be a tomorrow.  You have to try your best to work with what you have, to put your cards on the table then and there.”

 

“So a brush with death became your moment of clarity?”

 

“Yeah, in a way it has.  Every day is a gift, Shirley.  Every day is worth living, because we might not get another one.”

 

“That’s hardly a revelation, Carmine.  Life teaches you that every day.”

 

“  Well, it means something to me.  There are a lot of times when I stood by and took the easy way out, kept my mouth shut and figured that things would work out for the best, wouldn’t admit that I was hurt because I’d have to take action and take a risk.”

 

“Carmine…” Shirley began, a wariness in her tone.

 

It was too late.  Words he should have said years ago were falling out of his mouth too forcefully to stop.  “I never told you this.  I never wanted to you to know, because I felt guilty about it.  When you married Walter,” his voice broke, and became ragged, “I wanted more than everything to stand up and object, to-“

 

“Shhhh…”  Shirley laid her finger against his lips, as tears welled up into her eyes.  “Don’t, she pleaded, “We wouldn’t have worked.  I wanted to marry a doctor, Carmine.  I wanted enough stability to start the family I had always wanted.  You couldn’t have given me that.  We both know that.  We would have been a disaster.  Deep down, you know know it’s true.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, to lie and say that he hadn’t been the man that she knew he was; but the look in her eyes stopped him.  Shamefacedly, his head nodded forward and he felt the unfamiliar warmth of tears in his eyes.

 

Shirley tilted his head up, forcing him to look her in the eyes.  “We wanted different things back then, Carmine.  Neither one of us could have, or would have wanted to compromise.  But,” she continued as she leaned towards him, “that was then, and this is now,” she said, kissing him.

 

Carmine’s brain reeled from the shock as he was overwhelmed by the sensation of passion that his memories had not given justice too.  He pulled her more closely to him in the rapidly chilling night air.

 

 

 

 

Laverne groaned and curled herself into a tighter ball.  “Are you coming to bed yet?” she whined at Lenny.  The assorted splashing and expectorating sounds coming from their bathroom let her know that he’d be done brushing his teeth in a minute.  In here eyes, it was sixty seconds too long.

 

She closed her eyes and try to will herself back to a time when everyone played nice, got along, and helped clean up the after dinner mess.  No such luck.  The squeak of the bedsprings and the warmth of his bulk against her made her feel incrementally better.  She opened her eyes, and felt better still in the darkness and quiet of their bedroom.  Snuggling against him, she said, “Never, ever, ever again.  Lenny, promise me something.”

 

“Anything, Vernie.”

 

“If I ever want to invite more than four people to our house again, for any reason at all-just remind me of this aweful night.  Promise?”

 

“It wasn’t all that bad.”

 

“What?”

 

“I mean, it wasn’t the greatest, don’t get me wrong on that.  But, it could have been worse.”

 

“How?”

 

“The kids could have been playing on the swingset when it broke.”

 

“True.”

 

“Karen and Benjamin could have stayed the whole time.”

 

“Yucko.”

 

“It wasn’t the worst turkey ever.”

 

She gave him a soft punch in the ribs.  “How could you tell, as fast as you were shoveling it in your mouth?”

 

“You always told me not to talk with my mouth full.  I was just making sure that I had a mouthful so I wouldn't tell Karen off.”

 

“Our little girl did that beautifully, “ Laverne said, smiling.

 

“Yeah, I’m proud of her.  I feel bad now for giving her a hard time.  She just wanted everyone to be happy.”

 

‘I guess we’re all a little guilty of that.”

 

“That ain’t a terrible thing to wish, Vernie.”  Lenny exhaled deeply.  “Wow.  I can’t believe Andy’s going to move out.”

 

“Yeah.  I thought Frankie would be the first to go.  And I thought we’d be throwing him out.”

 

“Me too.  San Diego ain’t all that far.”

 

Laverne smiled in the darkness.  Lenny was slowly learning to let go, thanks to Skye.  Not that she didn’t expect him to cry the day Andy finally hit the road…  “No, it’s not.  I think he and Caitlyn are too young, though, “ he continued.

 

“I dunno.  Remember what we were like at that age?”

 

He guffawed.  “Yeah!  Me and Squiggy had just moved into the building with you and Shirley.”  Laverne smiled again, as she remembered that day.  The guys had manipulated Shirley into recommending them to their old landlady, Mrs. Havenhurst.  Little had they known…

 

 “Then me and Squig had a fight and he ended up staying at your place.  The little fink flushed my good shirt down the toilet!  He got it back for me though, that’s a true friend.” Lenny continued.

 

Laverne chimed in.  “And I had to go upstairs and practically beg you to take him back!”

 

“You didn’t beg.  You just used psychology on me.  I just didn’t get it at the time.”

 

Laverne felt her body respond, as usual, to his closeness.  “You were hoping I’d use something else, weren’t you?” she asked throatily. 

 

 “I took a shower,” he whispered in her ear.

 

She giggled as her hands began to roam his form, years of practice and experience guiding the way.  She stopped cold when she heard a soft moan from the den and the sofa bed squeak.

 

In a flash, Lenny was on his feet, muttering angrily.  “I can’t stop them from moving to San Diego, but it’s another thing when they’re under our roof.  I mean, Marie and Leon could walk in on …”

 

Laverne sat up, gathering her unbuttoned pajama top around her, “Len,” she hissed.  “You don’t know if it’s Andy and Caitlyn.”

 

“Who else would it be?”

 

She winced, “Frankie and Liz?”  Part of her was relieved to see a look of nausea cross his face.

 

“I don’t even want to go there…” he mumbled before stepping out the bedroom door.

 

He was back a moment later, his blue eyes wide.

 

“Was it Andy and Caitlyn?”

 

“I wish,” he murmured.

 

Laverne groaned.  “Frankie and Liz?”

 

Lenny shook his head and grimly took off his robe before diving under the covers, his back towards her.

 

Laverne pressed herself full against him, kissing the back of his neck.  A wild thought dashed through her mind.  “Paul and Rhonda?”

 

Lenny curled into a tighter ball.  “No.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Shirley.”

 

“Shirley and Walter?  Eww…” Laverne thought, trying to get the picture out of her head.

 

Lenny shook his head violently.  “Shirley and Carmine.”

 

“Oh,” Laverne sighed, as she sank against him.  “Oh!” she said as full realization hit her.  “Oh my.”

 

“I can’t believe it.  She’s married!” Lenny whispered.

 

“To Walter.”

 

“Laverne!”  Lenny rolled over to face her, the shock of his expression visible even in the dim light.

 

“Let it go,” she said softly.

 

“But…”

 

“Let it go… “ She felt him pull away from her on the mattress, and she reached out to him.  “It’s not us,” she whispered calmingly.  “Shirley and Walter ain’t us, and we ain’t them.  We’re lucky,” she sighed, relieved that her embrace was returned.

 

They lay curled together for a long time before sleep claimed Laverne.  No more words were spoken between them, for they were not needed. 

 

 

 

FIN

 

To Hello, Lovers
To Angel Shoes











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