SERIES: Beautiful Like a
Rainbow
PART: 4 of ??
RATING: PG-13; eventual NC-17 (Explicit Heterosexual Sexual
Activity, Adult thematic material, language, adult content, character death,
trauma)
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C
DISTRIBUTION: To Myself
so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be
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CATEGORY: Drama
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SEQUEL TO : Shotzette's "True Colors"; a true and
proper one more so than "With Words" could be.
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Early Show AU; Canon for Happy Days up to
the girls' first appearance.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Dare to dream.
(Lavenny, Shirlmine)
NOTES: An alternate version of the "True Colors" side
of things - much more romantic in nature.
***
Shirley awoke gradually in the morning light, her neck throbbing
from having fallen asleep against Carmine’s shoulder. He stroked her back and it brought her to the
waking world – she quickly sat up and pushed away from his touch.
“Do you need something?” she asked, wiping her eyes and then
removing the now-dry compress.
He winced as she brushed against his shiner. “Breakfast.
Can you cook?”
Shirley glanced at the kitchen, which hadn’t been used since
they’d begun renting the apartment five years before. “Are you sure you should eat?”
He pouted. “I’m
starving,” Carmine wheedled.
Shirley sighed. “Would
you settle for some fruit? I don’t know
how to turn on the stove,” she confessed.
He stared at her, obviously dumbfounded. “Geez,” he shook his head, “I thought that
was a requirement of damehood.”
Anger sparkled in her eyes.
“Some of us,” she bit off, “have more important things to do, like make
a living.”
His laugh was friendly. “You don’t gotta explain,” he shugged, then
winced again.
Pity crossed Shirley’s face as her roommate entered from the
bedroom. “Laverne,” she said, “can you
cover for me with Mister Shotz today?”
Laverne’s eyes narrowed habitually, but she avoided the
argument. “Yeah. Carmine, do you need anything?”
“Breakfast,” he repeated, his expression pleading.
Laverne pursed her lips, then finally reached into her purse and
pulled out three bucks. “Slotnicks delivers.”
“Whatt’re you in such a hurry for?” Shirley growled.
“I gotta clock in before seven ‘cause I’m putting in two extra
hours today,” Laverne cut in, “so I can go….” She mumbled the next part, “dress
shopping.”
Shirley’s smile appeared genuine. “Oh, all right, then – I’ll order something
up. Have a good day at work,” she
trilled in a syrupy voice.
Laverne exited grumbling, while a laughing Shirley returned to
the kitchen to put more ice in the freezer.
“You two are something else,” Carmine remarked from the
sofa.
“I guess so,” Shirley said, pushing the two filled ice trays
into the back of the freezer, then opening the fridge and pulling out a grape
Kni-Hi, then peeling off the plastic strip which sealed the lid shut.
“Why do you live together?” he wondered.
Evasively, she turned away and grasped the tub. “I suppose
because old habits die hard,” she said.
“How long have you lived together?”
“Since senior year of high school,” Shirley abandoned the Kni-Hi
on the counter, then turned back toward Carmine with a deadened expression. “Five years.”
Carmine’s brow raised. “I
didn’t think you were twenty-five.”
Shirley knew she looked older.
“It’s the experience, honey,” she said lightly, sitting down beside him
and placing the icy rag on his forehead.
“Do you like pancakes?” she asked, heading to the phone.
***
Laverne stared at the girl occupying the full-length mirror in
the ladies’ dressing room at Pfister’s Department store. Self-consciously, she checked herself at
every angle, hoping that what she wore projected class.
It oughtta project class – she was blowing her half of the rent money, plus what she’d managed to steal
and scrimp off of her last few dates on the little mid-calf blue chiffon number
and a pair of low heels. It was a huge
wad of dough altogether for something she knew would never be worth wearing
again. The kind of guys she dated weren’t
into the whole society deal – well, to be honest, involving her in the whole
society deal.
Despite herself, she thought of Lenny and a smile penetrated her
sarcastic malaise. She owed him her
best, of course, if only because they’d been friends for a century.
If only because he’d
saved Shirley’s life… she reminded
herself. Her body was flocked with
goosebumps as she recalled a time she’d tried her damndest to put in the past…
***
1956
***
She had been
studying herself in the mirror when a hand rubbed against her shoulder. The response was abrupt. “LENNY, NO.”
Her tone got
an instant apology as he blended in with the manila wall of the vestibule, his
hand withdrawing from her shoulder. “I’m
sorry, Vernie…”
She glared at
him and tugged at the modest collar of her white blouse. “We’re at church,” she reproved as her heart
raced. Geez, was this what petting led
to? She regretted letting Shirley talk
her into going to that ROTC mixer more and more, and regretted wearing a
long-sleeved blouse on a hot August day even more. She lowered her eyes in the hope that he
wouldn’t notice how unnerved their encounter had made her.
From lowered
eyes she studied Lenny Kosnowski. Not a
bad looking boy, with his big blue eyes and long, aristocratic and turned-up
nose, yet his best attribute was his
loyalty. The fact that he was a stepson
to the Pfister clan didn’t hurt him in the dating department, either, but his
father’s newfound wealth had a strange effect on Lenny, and for some reason he didn’t go out much. If he were any other kind of boy, Laverne would
have set her cap for him, but Lenny had been chasing her since they were seven
years old, and at times she found his attention creepy. He sent her a pathetic puppydog look and she
melted.
“I’m sorry,
Len – I’ve been having a real bad time lately.”
“With Shirl?”
she nodded her head and dabbed a finger into the silver font of holy water and
crossed herself. He did the same and
whispered, “what’s been up with her?
She’s acting all weird.”
Weird wasn’t
even the half of it – withdrawn, sullen and hostile would also fit, had she the
word power to add them. Maybe it was because of the added stress of her role in
the interfaith youth program. “I’m gonna
talk to her after church,” she shoved him toward the doorway. “Get back to your family,” she
instructed. Laverne followed him out a proper few minutes
later, her hands clasped together.
Pop shot her
a disapproving glare as she settled down in the pew, so to avoid his wrath she
buried her face in the hymnal. They sang
together about Christ rising and coming again, then settled into to listen to
Father Peacefield’s firebrand homily. Laverne
absorbed every invective the preacher shouted about their intolerant society,
while her father shook his head and coughed his disapproval. Mass lasted a half-hour longer than usual due
to his polemics and Laverne jumped to her feet as soon as they were instructed
to go in peace. Shirley hadn’t been in
her usual spot at the front pew, and that realization had infected the peace
she usually felt after worship with worry.
She searched
the pews, the vestibule, and the choir room.
Finally she heard an angry, muffled sobbing from Father Peacefield’s private
washroom. It was a forbidden territory, but Laverne pushed her way inside.
And there was
Shirley – washing her skirt in the sink.
Something was
amiss – Laverne knew it. “Shirl?” she
whispered.
Her best
friend whirled around, accidentally showing Laverne the bright white-pink stain
she was trying to scrub away. “You can’t
tell anyone,” she sniffled.
“Where were
you – I was looking all over the church…” she remembered, suddenly, the
messiness of Lenny’s enjoyment on Saturday.
No wonder Shirley was ashamed of her stained skirt… “Uh – I’ll wait for
you outside.”
“Laverne,”
she said passionately. “You can’t tell
anyone you saw me doing this! Not
anyone! PROMISE ME.”
“I promise!”
Laverne swore. “Cross my heart and hope
to die.” Shirley’s eyes flooded with
tears as she turned away. “Shirley – you
can tell me – I won’t tell anyone what happened, honest.”
“You wouldn’t
understand…”
“I’m a lot
more grown up than you think,” Laverne said.
“I know what that kinda stain means, Shirl. Some guy hurt you.”
The world
shattered with her next words. “It was Father
Peacefield.”
Laverne’s jaw
dropped. “No…”
“It started
last year. He said it was a way to
welcome me to the flock...” Shirley rubbed her eyes. “It hurts so much, Laverne. Whatever he does, I bleed. He said it’s my penance for being a wicked
pagan.”
The words
trod heavily on Shirley’s tongue in with strange obsolesce. “You’re not bad,” Laverne whispered, hugging
her friend.
“I’m
wicked. He says I’m not baptized and
that’s why my mom’s raising us Protestant.
Therefore I’m a tool for salvation by the Lord.” The words came from Shirley’s memory, not her
heart. Everyone in town knew Shirley’s mother had turned to Protestantism
because they were the only organization willing to tolerate her drunken
ravings.
“I’ll fix him
– we’ll tell your mom…”
“She
knows. According to her,” Shirley said,
wrapping arms tightly around her middle, “I’m a slut who asked for it.”
Laverne felt
yet another flash of anger at Shirley’s irresponsible lush of a relation. “He ain’t never gonna touch you again, Shirl,”
she said, in a tone that brooked no more conversation. She gently wrapped Shirley in her good black
shawl. “I won’t let him. .
We’ll fix him! We’ll make up a
plan and get him good…”
“Really,
Vernie?” she whimpered.
Laverne
wrapped her arms around the weaker girl.
“I promise.” Her young mind taxed
itself thinking of a way to salvation for her wounded friend.
***
“Miss?”
Laverne glanced over her shoulder, seeing the beehive-sporting
salesgirl waiting impatiently for her verdict.
“I’ll take this one and the suede heels in baby blue,”
Laverne decided, unzipping the dress and handing it carefully back.
The salesgirl glanced at her ragged slip and pasted on
a professional smile. “We take cash
only,” she said, stinging Laverne once more with familiar prejudice.
Furiously, she yanked open her clutch purse and pulled
out six bills. “This enough?” she asked,
waving it under the woman’s face.
She winced away from the bills. “Yes.
Follow me to check out, please.”
Great, she
probably thinks I swiped it, Laverne
thought, wondering if she was headed for
another trip to Milwaukee County Lockup as she slipped into her sailor dress,
then followed the woman to the counter. As
the saleswoman rang her up she thought again of the fearless little girl she’d
once been and sent up a prayer to Saint Jude for protection.
***
The phone rang at five, right in the middle of
Shirley’s favorite soap opera. She stroked
Carmine’s sleeping face protectively and set aside the bowl of take-out chicken
noodle soup.
The line popped in her ear when she picked up the
receiver. “Hey Shirl? It’s Stan from barley.”
She instantly went into ‘Easy’ mode. “Hello Stanley..” she purred into the receiver.
“Hey, are you still gonna be able to make it for
Friday? I’m gonna have to meet you after
twelve- I think my wife found out about us.”
She bit her lip.
Fuck married men – they were all the same, so focused on getting some
cheap pussy that they barely thought to covered their tracks with wifey. “I don’t know…maybe if you’ll bring me
something.”
“Bring you something?!
I gave you a diamond bracelet last week!”
“Because you made me wait in the rain for four hours,
Stanley,” she snapped.
He whispered, “I’m sorry Shirley – my boss caught the
charge on his expense account and balled me out in front of the whole board of
directors. Maybe if we let things cool
off for awhile, I’ll get you something nice…”
Humiliation filled her. Men always wanted her to wait – for the
divorce to come through or for the infection to clear up – but damn it, she
wanted something good NOW. “Forget it,”
Shirley snapped. “Find another cheap
screw down at Moby Dominick’s, ‘cause I don’t wanna see you anymore. Shirley Feeney ain’t some bar chick you can
flap around for fun, buster!”
“Fuck y-“
The phone dinged as she slammed the receiver
down. She clutched the counter and
mentally cursed every married man who had dicked over her dream.
She played with the faded doily under the phone. The dreams had been so much bigger when she
was a girl. Now her big fantasy was to
find a man who would stick her in a nice apartment on the East Side and pay all
of her bills while taking her out to the fancier places and buying her pretty
things. That childhood fantasy of
becoming a nurse hadn’t included on-the-sly diamond necklaces and ‘therapeutic’
abortions.
Shirley shook herself out of her maudlin
attitude. Life wasn’t a dream, or a
fantasy, or even her highest hope – it was keeping her belly full and her cunt
tingling. Her mother had taught her that
lesson years ago when they’d picked pockets for rent money at McSorley’s Bar,
and as harsh as the lesson had been for her it was a God’s honest truth.
Her eyes fell on the sleeping boxer and some strange
forgotten instinct made her return to the couch and pull the blanket up to
Carmine’s chin. She gently stroked his
hair-prickled cheek and bent to peck his forehead, then sat beside him to rest
her head on his chest.
She barely knew this man – had not even had sex with
him yet – but wanted to be no where else than resting her head on his yummy
chest. Animal attraction? Maybe.
That would be fine.
The thought that something more might be going on
under the surface was what disturbed Shirley more, but his breathing hypnotized
her into sleeping.