Ashre: The Darkest Hour Is Just Before Dawn
By Missy

RATING: PG-13 (Yup, yet MORE mature content; issues of death and such)
DISTRIBUTION: To Squeaky and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Â Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"
Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their adress and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!
NOTES: Here you go, Squeaky!
Lyrics used: DEDICATED TO THE ONE I LOVE (Pauling-Bass) http://www.mathematik.uni-ulm.de/paul/lyrics/mamasandpapas/)
CATEGORY: Tragedy
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Easily slippable into the middle of "Why Did The Fireman.."; Shirley must comfort Lenny and Squiggy after they witness the death of Laverne's fireman boyfriend in a blaze.

**** (Dedicated to the brave warriors of 9/11)

Shirley Feeny sang a tuneless song to herself as she ran down Knapp street.

What a glorious day! She thought sappily to herself, delighted beyond belief at the mild fall night. It wasn't just any old day, though.

Right about now, Randy's gotta be proposing to Laverne, She grinned to herself, looking and feeling like a loon, Boy, Carmine and I were so excited for them that we didn't even kiss goodbye tonight! She grinned wickedly to herself as she opened the building's front door, I'll have to make it up to him at the wedding. Yup, I'll only dance with him...unless there's a cute doctor there...or a vetrinarian..does Randy know any vetrinarians? Her musings were cut off as she descended the last flight of steps to the basement and heard Laverne shouting. The door to their appartment was wide open.

Typical of Laverne, to leave the door open like that and let the neighbors into their private business. She stepped into the doorway and saw Lenny and Squiggy standing in front of their doorway, dressed up in their Firefighting outfits. This didn't register any note of alarm with Shirley; she didn't even notice blots of soot staining Lenny's cheek or the tears flooding Squiggy's eyes.

"What's going on?" Shirley found herself asking, completely puzzled by everything, but especially Laverne's expression.

"Will Ya get them outta here?" Laverne asked her, consternated.

Before she could respond, the boys each planted a hand under her arm and dragged her away, out into the hallway, "I think I'm getting out of here," Shirley reponded, her puzzlement still evident. She heard the door close behind them as the boys put her down.

"What's the big idea?" She asked them, "Laverne can't be shouting her head off for nothing..." Her eyes fell to the hem of Squiggy's jacket, "Boys, you're soaking wet...Don' t tell me you were out chasing fires again! Did you make Randy mad, is that what this is about?" She realized suddenly that neither of them had said a single word to defend themselves, "Boys, what happened?"

Then it all came together before her horrified eyes; their soaking-wet clothing, their subdued, shell-shocked demeanors. "Boys, don't tell me...don't tell me that Randy's..."

At that point Lenny fled upstairs, sobbing his eyes out; Oh God, it was true..

"He saw everythin'," Squiggy croaked out, "We both saw the..roof collapsed..." Squiggy leaned back against a nearby wall, trying to regain his composure, "They pulled him outta the buildin; his hair was smoking, Shirl; it was actually steamin'...And the other firemen started ta give him superficial perspiration; it was horrible, Shirl, it took so long..then they put a blanket over 'im." He covered his face with his own open palms, "I gotta take a bath, I gotta...I smell just like the fire," He turned and ran halfway up the steps, crying, "I neva wanna see anotha fire again!"

Shirley stood between the steps and her appartment, torn over what she should do; the boys were in terrible pain, but Laverne was in obvious denial. Being the only person in somewhat reasonable shape at the moment was rough stuff.

How could she feel so numb?

"Eeeny Meeny.." She began, but then realized how stupid going after the boys at this point would be. They could comfort one another for a little while; meanwhile Laverne remained alone. A sudden trill of fear sounded in Shirley's soul; her best friend was not in her right mind, could even do something terrible to herself...Shirley took a moment to compose herself before gently opening the door, where she found Laverne singing to herself in a childish, sing-songy voice.

***

"He's commin'," Laverne insisted quietly, "He just got held up at another fire."

Shirley settled her empty glass of tea at the bottom of the sink. "Don't you want to lie down, Laverne? You look tired."

Laverne's expression was implacable, "I can't go to sleep. Randy's gonna come an' take me out." She smiled and played with the edge of her skirt, "Do you think I look pretty?" She smiled bashfully

Shirley managed a smile, "You look wonderful," Me, I'm not doing so hot. It was killing her to see Laverne lost in this delusional state, completely unresponsive to the truth. She had to get her to bed; outside help was needed more than anything at the moment.

"Laverne, maybe you should go fix your hair," Shirley suggested, "You mussed it up sitting there."

She sat up stiffly, her eyes alarmed, "Is it really messy? You think Randy'll notice?"

"Oh yeah!" Shirley said, with a false brightness, "Your head looks like a big ol' rats's nest."

Laverne turned her lips up stiffly, "I ain't gonna let you be my maid a honor if yer gonna be like that, Shirl," She smiled then, "Just kiddin'. You'll get me if Randy comes?"

"First thing, Vernie," She smiled stiffly. Laverne began to sing once more, returning to their bedroom. The second she disappeared from sight, panic set in for Shirley.

"Whatt'm I gonna do?" She nibbled her fingers, racing to the phone, "Mr. DeFazio; I'll call him first!" She dialed Laverne's Pop's number quickly; the operator was unable to connect her, however.

"I believe the phone is off the hook, Ma'am." She said, "No one's answering."

Shirley wanted to sob aloud out of frustration; Mr. DeFazio was a notoriously heavy sleeper. She gave the operator Carmine's number instead, which also rang off the hook. Shirley saw red.

"You're out with Mrs. Lockwash again, aren't you?" She asked the dead air on the other side of the phone.

"Did you say something, Ma'Am?"

"No, I'm sorry..." She wracked her brain for another number. "The Boys aren't in any shape to help...My mother's all the way in California and it's long-distance....MRS BABBISH!!" She cried out in relief, then gave the operator her landlady's number.

Upstairs in Edna Babbish's bedroom the phone suddenly burred to life, pulling her from a dream-filled haze, "Ughh.." She grunted to herself, picking up the receiver and pressing it to her ear, "This had better be good, Frank."

"Mrs. Babbish?!" Shirley Feeny's voice squealed through the wires, obviously under some sort of trauma.

"Shirley? Is something wrong?"

"I need your help, I need your help right away," Shirley's voice became unglued, sprawling itself out under a fat layer of reserve "Laverne's boyfriend has passed away, and she's gone into some kinda trance, and I can't get ahold of her father..."

"I'll be right down," Edna soothed worry edging into her own voice, "Just let me get dressed and I'll be right there, Shirley!" She hung the reciever up and quickly threw and outfit on before fleeing her own apartment.

Edna found Shirley sitting stiffly on her couch, her hands tucked into her lap, eyes downcast. "Shirley?"

The pixieish brunette wrapped her arms around the salty older woman's waist, "I think Laverne's snapped, I don't know what to do!"

"Oh, Shirley, I'm sure it's OK...she's in shock is all." Mrs. Babbish coddled, "She'll be alright until the morning, we'll just keep an eye on her to make sure of it."

"I know...it's just so scary." She clutched Mrs. Babbish's hand, "I've never had someone I know just die like that!"

"How did you find out about what happened?" Edna asked, "The police didn't call Laverne, did they? They would call his next of kin."

Shirley drew air in as deeply as she could, to steady herself, "Lenny and Squiggy saw it happen."

Mrs. Babbish turned white, "Oh, no..."

Shirley nodded, "It was terrible, Mrs. Babbish; they told me they saw everything!" Her eyes widened, "The boys are alone!"

"You should go to them," Edna urged, "It's not a good night for anyone to be alone."

"Will you watch Laverne for me?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Babbish insisted, "I'll keep calling her father, too; knowing him he's stuffed a pillow over his head and can't hear a thing."

Shirley tore herself away from the apartment and upstairs, to the boy's place.

"Lenny? Squiggy?" Their door was ajar and, with just a tiny bit of trepidation, she pushed it open. Sympathy washed over her at the scene inside.

Lenny sat on the sill of their window, Jeffery pressed to his chest, staring out the window at that night's full moon Squiggy lay, curled up on the bottom bunk bed, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. In the cradle of his arms lay a jar of moths.

Shirley knew things were serious; Squiggy had indeed taken a bath recently. Mounds of dirty towels lay lumped into a corner.

Shirley approached Lenny cautiously; gently cutting through the distance between them and lying her hand on the side of his face, "Len?"

He opened his eyes halfway, "How's Vernie?" He asked instantly.

"Mrs. Babbish is watching her," Shirley explained, "How're you?"

He shrugged and sniffled, rubbing his reddened nose, "OK, I think." He shook his head, "I'm real sorry that I made her mad. I didn't want 'er to hear it from a stranger." He shut his eyes, "It ain't the same, but it was easier ta hear it when m' mom left from my aunt."

Shirley nodded, "I'm sorry that you had to see that, boys."

"D'ya mean it, Shirl?" Lenny asked, genuinely curious.

Shirley frowned, "Of course I mean it, Len!"

He backed away, wincing, "Well, you ain't exactly known for likin' us, Shirl."

Sheepishly, Shirley shook her head, "I don't mean to make it seem that way, boys. In fact...well, you've sorta grown on me."

"Like mold?" Squiggy asked from the bed.

"Sure," Shirley managed, disgust touching her temperament, "Like mold."

"The blue kind or the brown kind?" Lenny asked.

"Uggh," Shirley grunted, "Let's just say you've grown on me,"

Squiggy sighed, sitting up, "I just don't know why it haddta be Randy. Why couldn't'ita been some real jerk? Like...Like..."

"Tony Rigante?"

"Yeah! He kicks old ladies!" Squiggy pointed out.

Shirley shook her head, "I dunno, boys; I wish I understood the rules of nature, but I don't."

"It's just not fair," Lenny said, "Especially to die like that...I don't wanna die like that."

"You probably won't, Len," Shirley gently insisted.

"How do ya hope you go, Shirl?" Squiggy asked, coming to sit beside her.

She thought it over for a moment, then said, "Unconscious."

"Me too." Lenny said firmly. "Who don't?"

"I hope it gets me when I'm in the saddle," Squiggy said. Shirley decided to leave that comment to itself.

"C'Mon, boys," She said suddenly, "Lets go outside for a bit."

Lenny's eyes widened; she knew some part of him connected being outdoors with the fire, "What for?"

"Fresh air can only do us good," She pointed out, "And the sun should be commin' up in about an hour." Truthfully, she wanted to see the sunrise; otherwise it seemed that the night would never end.

The followed her resolutely outside to the stoop, where they sat in a neat row staring up at the guttering starlight.

"Shirl," Squiggy asked, "Have you ever wondered why we hafta die at all?"

Shirley nodded, "All of the time, Squig," She said, watching the breeze stir at a tree down the block, "All of the time."

Lenny planted his elbow into his knee and rested his chin against his palm, "I think it stinks; none of it makes any sense at all. I just don't get why I'm here an' Randy ain't."

Shirley wrapped her arm around Lenny's own, "I guess it was Randy's time, Len."

"But Vernie needed him! And I liked him a lot."

"I know...sometimes it just happens that way," She couldn't simply say out loud that life feels unfair sometimes and nothing necessarily has to make sense. "We've just gotta let life happen sometimes, Len." Both boys gave her a forlorn, lost look, "And we've gotta stop thinking this way, You know what makes me feel better when I'm depressed?"

"You sing the Rubber Tree Plant Song?" Lenny asked.

"Yeah. That's something I just do with Vernie, though." She snapped her fingers, "I've got it! Remember that song we used to sing in school, Len?"

"Oh yeah! I taught it to Squig."

She closed her eyes and began to sing in a soft, low voice.

While I'm far away from you my baby
I know it's hard for you my baby

She looked to Lenny, who picked the verse up.

Because it's hard for me my baby
And the darkest hour is just before dawn

Shirley thought peacefully of any God, any loving, merciful being in existence; not necessarily the Protestant God of her childhood, the Catholic God Lenny and Laverne had been taught to speak to, the Lutheran God that Squiggy's mother had dragged him to worship every Sunday. Not even the anonymous, creedless God she cried out to now and again, but the many Gods and Goddesses that embodied times of grief and joy that she'd ever heard of, and even the nothingness she and her friends turned to in times of trauma. It was a universal cry they made together as Squiggy joined in,

Each night before you go to bed my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
And tell all the stars above
This is dedicated to the one I love
(love can never be exactly like we want it to be) .

They were beating the darkness back as hard as they could with the sound of their voices; their passion and guts at hard work

I could be satisfied knowing you love me
(and there's one thing I want you to do especially for me)
And it's something that everybody needs
While I'm far away from you my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
Because it's hard for me my baby
And the darkest hour is just before dawn

She saw a golden light break over the horizon and relief filled her as the song came to an end.

If there's one thing I want you to do especially for me
Then it's something that everybody needs
Each night before you go to bed my baby
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby
And tell all the stars above
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love
This is dedicated to the one I love

The day had broken.

****

Shirley left the boys sleeping in their apartment; arriving home, Edna pressed an unnecessary breakfast on her, which she ate with unseemly relish.

"I finally reached Frank," She said, "He's rushing right over," she pressed a copy of the morning paper into Shirley's hands, "Laverne should be very proud of Randy; he died a hero."

Shirley nodded, exhausted, unable to add much to the conversation. A moment later Frank stumbled into the appartment, took the paper and closeted himself in the girl's room with Laverne.

Shirley braced herself for the probable; Laverne's cries of "No,"; the muffled sound of sobbing. Passionate words uttered under the breath. Then silence. They all arrived, leaving her breathless in tears.

Frank didn't emerge from the bedroom; eventually Edna pressed Shirley into taking a nap on the front sofa, which she did without hesitation.

Sleep wove itself over Shirley; though she didn't feel tired darkness came with the morning and sleep took her without regard.

****

"Randy? I dunno if you can hear me...but if you can...I woulda said yes."

Shirley listened discreetly to her best friend's epiphany, holding Randy's dog at bay. Upstairs firemen, friends and family of Randy Carpenter milled around listlessly.

Wasn't it nice of Randy's mother to invite the boys? I think they needed this. She smiled at the boys, who stood at the fringes of the group nibbling at the catered spread (Unusual behavior for two boys who would normally cram anything they could carry away into empty pockets).

"Can I get ya anything, Angelface?" Carmine asked, carrying his own platter away. She shook her head, smiling at her boyfriend. Carmine's hug enveloped her briefly, "Are you sure you're OK, Shirl?"

"I'm just fine," She said softly, "I've already done a little bit of mourning myself, I guess that's why I'm not crying."

"Well, don't force yourself to cry or nothin'." He kissed her cheek, "I'll see ya after the burial." She nodded her answer.

Once Laverne reemerged from the firehouse's lower level, the memorial service began.

The fire chief spoke; the mayor; Randy's mother...Words flowed past Shirley, none of them catching on inside of her or holding out any sense of meaning. Since Laverne chose not to speak, the ceremony ran short. An hour was spent loading the bereaved into limousines and fire trucks, which wended its way to the ceremony under police escort.

Shirley was surprised to discover the sidewalks lined with people who hadn't even known Randy; they all seemed to know the story of his tragic passing, however.

"Lookit that, Shirl," Laverne whispered, "I don't think Randy ever knew that many people in his life."

Shirley didn't have the heart to tell her that they were all most likely newswatchers, hounds of the media who had heard of Randy's death and wanted to be able to tell their grandchildren that they'd seen Randy Carpenter's almost-fiancee, all decked out in her little sailor suit.

Somehow the hordes were kept back, and Laverne took her place beside Randy's mom at the boy's graveside. Shirley listened dully to what the priest said, and when he uttered something about "forgiveness" her head shot up; she could hear the boys crying.

Slipping through the small group around the casket, she found them standing by themselves. "Dya think Vernie'll ever forgive us, Shirl?" Lenny asked, as she patted their hands.

"She's gotta, Len," Shirley said softly, "She's gotta."

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," The priest recited loudly. Laverne looked up at last, her face twisting in sorrow at the sight of Shirley propping both boys up. While Randy's mother shoveled a pile of dirt onto her boys' grave, Laverne wrapped her arms around her best friends.

"I'm so sorry, fellas," She whispered huskily, "I'm so sorry for yellin' at ya..." And then she, too, broke down, her emotions rushing out.

Shirley felt the pressure of another set of arms, and then another, and another; her friends were surrounding one another in a womb of mutual forbearance, mutual strength. They would get along after this; they would survive to see another day. Shirley now knew that they couldn't do it without each other.

And a flood of tears leaked from her eyes onto Carmine's shoulder.

The End











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