Hand In Hand
By Shotzette, Old Time Fan and Missy

Episode Five
By OldTimeFan

Thank You To Chesh For Tireless Hours of Betaing!

Two Weeks Later...

Shirley drew her knees up under her chin and moaned. She desperately believed that if she could only find the right position into which to contort herself, the waves of nausea that crashed over her again and again would vanish. What is this? she wondered. She'd been hung over before -- quite a bit in recent weeks -- but the symptoms were becoming increasingly worse. Each morning was like waking up to a brand new hell of headache, bed spins, and stomach-churning agony. It was almost enough to make her swear off drinking forever. Almost.

Walter stepped quietly into the bedroom and stood over her. She peered up at him through slit eyes and mumbled, "Oh, good, you're back. I hope you have an answer for me."

He pressed his lips together and sat down on the edge of the bed. Even that slight motion was too much and she let out a groan. "Sorry, Shirley. Um, yes, your blood test just came back."

She waited, but he seemed at a loss for words. "Well? What is it? Some new kind of flu? Food poisoning? Because whatever it is, you've got to make it stop. I can hardly move and I'm gonna lose my job. They already think I'm...that I've got...you know, that I might be drinking a little too much." She tried to chuckle scornfully but it came out like gagging.

Walter cleared his throat. "You do need to stop drinking, Shirley. Now. Completely."

That's it, she thought. I've screwed myself up somehow. Probably an ulcer. She wished Carmine were nearby, so he could hear how she was hurting and sick and feel guilty. "Like he would care," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"N...nothing." She felt her gorge rise and clamped a hand over her mouth before staggering to her feet. She just made it to the toilet before she was overwhelmed.

After a minute or two, she stumbled back into the room and over to her bed. She tripped over a carelessly discarded shoe and nearly went sprawling. Walter leapt up and caught her in his arms, then set her down on the bed as if she were made of glass. "Are you all right?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" she snapped. His solicitousness was irritating, though she knew she should be grateful that a doctor, a real live doctor, had any interest in her at all, especially the way she was looking these days. She was paler than normal, plumper than ever and soused more than half the time. Whenever she sobered up, she couldn't stand to look at herself; it boggled her mind that anyone else would want to. If Walter hadn't been on such a short break from the army medical corps, he certainly would have had time to find someone a hell of a lot better than her with whom to socialize.

Still, doctor or not, he was a soldier on leave and she knew that she was a welcome distraction, if nothing else. That was fine by her - all she wanted anymore, really. Shirley Feeney had become a party girl, out for fun and laughs and a roll in the hay. She didn't mind being used, so long as the guy was at least honest about it. After all, she was using them, too, whether they knew it or not. Which was why whenever Walter started acting like there was something more going on, it aggravated her no end. Carmine had led her believe she was more than another score, then he'd torn her heart out. Without it, she had nothing more to give than her body, to Walter or anyone else. She was utterly empty inside and she wanted to keep it that way. Empty hurt a lot less.

"Did you see Squiggy at the hospital today?" she asked, flopping back on the bed again. After vomiting, she usually felt better for a good five minutes, so she was able to open her eyes wider and talk more easily now.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I did. His tests are coming back later today, so his doctor should be able to start him on some regular treatment program."

"That's good. I know Rhonda had to practically pick him up and carry to the hospital to get those tests. He's so damned stubborn."

"Yes, well, he should have gone right after that seizure a couple of weeks ago, but he refused. Your blonde friend must have been working on him all that time to get him there."

Shirley noticed that Walter wouldn't look her in the eye. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. "Do you think you know what's wrong with him?" She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach that was more than her rapidly returning nausea. "My God, how bad is it?"

"I don't know. Really, Shirley, I'm not sure. His symptoms...I don't want to guess at things. The tests will tell."

"Then why do you look so worried? If it isn't Squiggy...oh." She swallowed, hard. "You didn't finish telling me...."

"You're pregnant, Shirley," he blurted, face flushing. "You're going to have a baby."

Time stopped. She stared up at Walter without seeing him, his words echoing in her head until the meaning started to sink in. "I'm...what?"

"You're pregnant. I'm...sorry, Shirley."

"I...no. Walter, no, that's...that's impossible! How can I be...?" Oh, you know very well how, you stupid, stupid girl! Now it isn't just your life you've ruined. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

He gave her a grim little smile. "Oh, yes. Blood tests don't lie. Neither do my eyes, now that I know what I'm looking at." He reached down and pressed his hand against her slightly puffy abdomen.

She stared at his hand resting against her stomach, shook her head. "This can't be happening." She sat up and looked at Walter as desperation clutched her heart. "What am I going to do, Walter? What in the hell am I supposed to do now? I can't become a mother! Not like this...not all alone!" Hot tears began running down her cheeks.

Walter took a deep breath. He picked up her right hand and held it against his chest. "You don't have to be alone," he told her softly. "Not anymore."

***
Lenny stamped on the cockroach and crowed proudly, "Ha! That'll teach ya!"

Amy smiled at him, brushing a stray blonde hair out of her eye. "You did that real nice."

"Yeah. Thanks." He grinned. "Okay, you can tell Mrs. Wang that it's safe to come back in now."

"Okay, Lenny." Amy gave him a look soaked in affection and then went to find Mrs. Wang.

Lenny watched her go with a heavy heart. It had been enough of a surprise when Carmine had taken him to their new dump away from home and explained that this was the best they could afford. Then he had seen Amy Babish, after all these years, and his shock was complete. She was still lovely and sweet, the kind young girl he'd felt such puppy love for back on Knapp Street. Now after all this time she'd gotten through school and made so much progress that she lived in her own apartment and held a job. Although both were far from glamorous, Lenny knew that this was still much more of a life than Edna had ever envisioned for her daughter.

Maybe this was all meant to be, Lenny mused, picking up his handyman's belt from the floor and heading for the door. Maybe I was supposed to leave California a month ago, run into Carmine on the road, and wind up in the big city for a reunion with Amy. Maybe we were the couple that was meant to be.

Even as he thought it, he knew deep inside that it wasn't true. Still, Amy was here and he was here, and she obviously still liked him. With Amy, things were so much simpler than with Laverne...not that there had ever been a 'with' as far as he and Laverne went. Dark, complicated thoughts started crowding Lenny's mind and he forced them away as he headed back to his apartment upstairs.

When he got there, Carmine looked up from the telephone. "Oh, hey, Len. Mission accomplished?"

Lenny held up his right foot to show Carmine the bottom of his shoe. "The enemy has been destroyed!"

"Yeach! Scrape that off, will ya?" Carmine wrinkled his nose, but his dark eyes were bright with good humor.

"Sure, sure." Lenny wiped his shoes on the old towel they used as a welcome mat before coming inside. "So?"

"So? So what?"

"So, did the producer call yet?"

Carmine drummed his fingertips on the edge of the old side table that Lenny had found in one of the abandoned apartments down the hall. "No, not yet. But he will, Len, I'm sure of it. I could feel how well that audition went, I'm telling you...I mean, I was on! There's no way this one won't come through."

Lenny nodded encouragingly, but inside he couldn't help but wonder. Carmine had been plugging away nonstop since their arrival in New York, hitting every audition at every theater on Broadway, but nothing had come of them. Still, he couldn't help but respect the guy for not giving up. It's always easier to just give up, he thought. Maybe not better, but certainly easier.

Just then, the phone rang. Carmine nearly leapt out of his skin as he grabbed for the receiver. "Hello?"

Lenny held his breath as he watched the expression on his roommate's face. As Carmine listened to whoever was on the other end, his smile of anticipation faded and his eyebrows knit together. Oh, that don't look good, Lenny thought.

"Yeah, okay. I'll...thanks. Thanks for letting us know. Bye." Carmine hung up the phone and sat back in the folding chair. He looked up at Lenny as though he didn't know what to say.

"Aw, Carmine, I'm sorry." He put on his better-luck-next-time smile. "I'm sure it...."

"Len, um, that wasn't for me, exactly. It was more for you."

Carmine's voice was unusually subdued. Lenny felt a strange stirring in the pit of his stomach. "For me? What? Who?"

"Rhonda. It was Rhonda, calling from California." Carmine stood up and put his hands on Lenny's shoulders. "She wanted you to know something. It's about Squiggy."

Lenny felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Geeze, Carmine, you're scaring me. What about Squig? Is he okay? Is he...?"

"He's...he's sick, Len. You need to go see him, right away."

Before he could form a response, there was a knock at the door. "That must be Amy. I think she had some...another thing...fix it." Lenny turned away and went to the door, feeling as though her were moving in slow motion. Then he opened the door and the bizarre world into which he'd suddenly been thrust was complete.

"Hi, Len," said Laverne. "Can I come in?"

***

Rhonda hung up the phone in the hallway. She took a deep breath and then rejoined Squiggy in the examination room. "Knock, knock?" she said from the door.

"Come in." Squiggy didn't even look up. "I'm still here."

"Did the doctor come back yet?"

"Nah. You know how they are. They just dump the bad news on ya and run off. Kinda like parents." Squiggy stood up slowly and began pacing.

Before she could censor herself, Rhonda said, "Are you sure you should be doing that?"

"What? Walking?" Squiggy let out a harsh laugh. "Apparently not for much longer!"

"I'm...I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't mean...."

"S'okay." He sighed, finally looking up squarely into her face. "They could still be wrong, right? I mean, whoever heard of the multiple whosiwhatsit anyway?"

"Multiple sclerosis," she corrected gently. "I have to admit, it's a new one on me. But, Rhonda is an actress, not a doctor."

"Yeah, well, doctors don't always know everything. Maybe the dumb tests are wrong. Maybe I'm just...you know. Clumsy." His eyes begged her to agree, to hold out some sort of hope that this was all a mistake.

The poor little guy had taken the news hard and after a stream of hearty denials had made them both leave him alone for awhile. During that time, Rhonda had talked to the doctor alone. She'd made the doctor show her the results of Squiggy's CAT scan and blood tests and explain them until she understood. Then she'd made him explain everything he could about multiple sclerosis - the symptoms, the prognosis, all of it. After that, she felt certain that the diagnosis was correct, but was less certain than ever how to comfort poor Squiggy. What was the right thing to say or do? The man had just been told he had an incurable condition, which might not kill him but would still slowly rob him of the life he'd known, until he was left in near constant pain and confined to first a wheelchair, then a bed. In some ways, it was worse than a death sentence and Rhonda Lee, Hollywood starlet, felt completely unprepared to help. In a flash, it had come to her that Squiggy needed more than her well meant, but inadequate comfort. He needed all his friends.

Especially one.

She managed a smile and placed one hand against Squiggy's cheek. "I wish I could make it go away, Andy. I really do."

He sighed, his eyes filling with defeat. "But you can't. And I can't. No matter how much I don't want it or pretend it ain't so, it is." He abruptly turned away. "You can go now. I'll catch the bus home after the doc finally kicks me loose. Thanks for the ride."

"Andy...."

"Don't." She saw his back stiffen. "I know you're sorry for me and normally, that'd be a pretty good thing, 'cause I'd use it to get you to do stuff with me that I liked. But right now, Rhonda? Right now I don't think I can take it. So, please, I ain't mad at you or nothing, but can you just leave?"

"I...yes. Sure, Andy, anything you want." She picked up her purse and reluctantly walked to the door. Before she left, she looked back over her shoulder. "I do feel sorry that this happened, Andy. But that doesn't mean all I feel for you is pity. Remember that, okay?"

He turned around, looking at her with wide, startled eyes. She simply smiled. "Call me when you're ready."

Rhonda walked into the hallway, hoping that she'd been right to pocket Lenny's last letter when she'd picked up Squiggy, that she'd been right to call him. Hopefully, Lenny still cared enough that he'd come home and give Squiggy the support only his best friend could. God knows, he's going to need it with what he's facing, she thought, reaching up to blot away a tear before it could smear her mascara.

FIN






To Chapter 4

On To Chapter 6











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