Inside Out
By Missy

TITLE: Inside Out
PARTS: One of One
RATING: R For adult content and Language
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai 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 address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Drama
PAIRINGS: S/C; L/L
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne falls apart slowly

NOTES: Sequel to OldTimeFan's "Better Left Unsaid", which is stored at Impure Thoughts.
****

"What're we gonna do?"

Carmine's stare was indifferent; indifference gained after months of repetitive questioning, "I ain't tellin' her."

Laverne's lower lip quivered, and sorrow scraped Carmine's soul. Keeping their one-night stand secret was killing her, slowly but surely.

As his mind reached back over the decade and a half that he'd known the girls, Carmine's mind conjured up an inseparable pair, always giggling, always gossiping. Never a secret between them. Until you, pal. Carmine taunted himself.

"God, we screwed up." Laverne told the wall, clutching a 'Hi Sailor' pillow to her chest. Carmine gently placed his hand upon her shoulder, but she shuddered away from his touch. "No," she said firmly, "Not ever again."

"Shirley screwed up," Carmine snapped, "Christ almighty; foolin' Lenny into pretending that the two of them were fuckin' around."

Laverne didn't correct Carmine's language; one of the reasons he liked her. Liked: not love. He understood that...sadly, he knew, sometimes, that she did not. And, despite Shirley's icy pose, her hysterical machinations, he loved playing the white knight; loved protecting her against everyone from her do-nothing father to her drunk of a brother.

"One of us has gotta tell her!" Laverne snapped, tossing the pillow aside.

"Yeah," A malicious smile crossed Carmine's face, "It'd serve her right."

Laverne's brow rose; when had Carmine stopped being the man who treated Shirley like a tiny porcelain doll? Why did Shirley have to shove Carmine into her arms that night? The question that tormented her the most forced her to ponder how her relationship with Lenny become so desperate that they couldn't just confront one another with their feelings?

"You're gonna do it?"

He nodded, "Tonight."

Laverne smiled, "Thanks, Carmine." They embraced, briefly; Laverne examined the brief contact, trying to figure out what exactly had driven her into Carmine's arms a few nights before. Questions they had answered themselves the morning after. Questions that haunted her, still.

***

That night, Laverne lay alone, curled up on their couch. SeaHunt played out before her eyes, but Laverne felt nothing for Lloyd Bridges.

Her mind danced through her time with Carmine. The patina of smugness which had buffered her from the reality of her actions had crumbled away, and the momentary physical pleasure of what had happened between the two of them had melted away...it was nothing but a bittersweet memory.

Her virginity. Lost in an act of revenge.

She told Carmine that there wouldn't be any regret. Part of her was glad that 'it' had finally happened. 'It' had gone well. But now 'it' was over, and she felt a distinct embarrassment whenever she spent any time at all with Carmine.

The front door rattled against its chain lock. She knew, instantly, that it was the boys.

She also knew that she never wanted to see Lenny Kosnoski ever again.

"Aww, come on, Laverne...please let me in?" She didn't respond to Lenny's call. "Darn Shirl!" He blurted out, slamming his fist into the door.

Silence consumed the room. Carefully, she crept to the door. Something held it slightly ajar; as she unhooked the lock, she saw what Lenny had brought her.

A daisy

A crushed, dying daisy.

She picked the pure-white blossom up and, teary-eyed, dumped it into her wastebasket.

****

Hours later, the front door opened, spilling a shiny-eyed Shirley into the apartment. Fear had made Laverne a light sleeper, she jolted awake.

"Hey Shirl," she said sleepily.

"Hello, Vernie," She grinned, broadly, "Notice anything different?"

Laverne sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes. For a long moment, she believed that the glittering object upon Shirley's ring finger was simply a product of falling asleep to the blinking eye of the television set. But, unmistakably, there glowed an engagement ring upon Shirley's finger.

Laverne's stomach sank, but Shirley's grin was pure Cheshire.

"Say hello to the future Mrs. Carmine Ragusa," She grinned.

***

"White...I want lots of white. I've earned it."

Laverne smiled feebly at Shirley's joke. This was the fiftieth day of Carmine and Shirley's engagement, and the fiftieth time Shirley had flashed pictures of her 'very tasteful' bridal gown in the Shotz break room.
"What's wrong, Laverne?" Shirley chirped.

"Wrong?" Laverne squeaked, too cheerfully. "No, nothing!"

Shirley sighed, "I guess your mind's on my bachelorette party." She sighed, "I swear, Laverne, did you have to schedule it the day before the wedding? You and Rose will get shnuckered and I'll be dragging two pickled bridesmaids down the aisle with me."

"Nah, Shirl," Laverne said quickly, "There ain't gonna be no alcohol." She mentally added another case of beer to the total she planned to swipe from Shotz before they left for the afternoon.

Her eye caught Lenny, who stood with a hangdog expression at the outskirts of a gaggle of women who had gathered around Shirley. Their eyes locked, then quickly disengaged.

With a sigh, Laverne turned from the merry scene and opened her locker.

From the top shelf, a bundle of daisies tumbled out.

****

"Me. Ogden. Caddy. Backseat. That's all I gotta say!"

The reunited Angora Debs hooted in delight, clinking bottles of beer together and generally enjoying Shirley Feeney's bachelorette party.

The atmosphere in the apartment somehow felt suffocating to Laverne. She lost cont of the number of beers that had passed between her lips. Suddenly, Terry Buttafuco asked her "Truth or Dare", she picked truth, and Shirley asked her something about men and calamine lotion.

Her eyes widened, "Who told you about Carmine?!"

The party ground to a hault.

"Laverne, what are you talking about?"

Laverne stood up, blood in her eye, "Who told ya I screwed Carmine?!"

Not one person in the room let out a breath. Horrified glances were exchanged.

Shirley's expression was placid. Frighteningly so, "I said 'calamine' lotion, Laverne, but now I want to hear about Carmine!"

"Come on, Shirl!" Laverne sloshed to her feet, "Everyone knows I fucked Carmine on that night you and Len pretended to be vo-deo-doing." She laughed to her self at their old innocent expression. Fucking worked much better; it was connotative of the soul-less state that her encounter with Carmine had thrust her into.

Shirley was eerily calm. "That's nice, Laverne. For some reason, I always knew that you and Carmine had done something. It's nice to hear that it's true."

Laverne grinned, "And he's a great screw..yer gonna have fun tomorrow, Shirl."

"Thank you, Laverne."

Shirley was unshakable; placid as a pond. And, suddenly, the cold truth slammed into Laverne: Shirley didn't care. What would have caused a major conniption fit in her friend only weeks ago now raised barely an eyebrow, for she had claimed her prize in Carmine. Had, in her mind 'taken' him away from Laverne.

Shirley stood up, suddenly, "Don't come to the wedding tomorrow, Laverne. I never want to see you again." She then walked to the door of an appartment that had once held so much love, so much trust, and exited, never to enter it again.

The Debs filtered out of the room; even Big Rosie seemed stunned into silence by what had just occurred. The next thing Laverne was aware of was puking her guts out in the bathroom. Gentle hands led her back to the bedroom, settled her to sleep.

She found a daisy by her pillow the next morning.

***

Weeks passed by in a haze of pain for Laverne; pain she could not express. Shirley's wedding and honeymoon came and went; then, suddenly, she got word that The Ragusas were headed for California. There were no good-byes; only a sad-eyed Squiggy and brusque Carmine shuffling Shirley's possessions out of the apartment.

Laverne was truly bereft now. Unable to confide in her remaining friends, she floated through her days in an emotionless state. She dated, petted, finally screwed Jake The Snake in a conquest that taught her the true emptiness that casual sex could provide.

Epiphany arrived unexpectedly, as she shaved her legs one morning before work. Nicking herself, she stared at the slow dribble of blood that tiny cut made.

So she lived. The blood proved that. And it would be so easy to die. So easy to give in. She had alienated everyone who meant anything to her.

Reality slammed into her like a two-ton truck. Realizing just what she was contemplating, she dropped the razor to the sink, dotting it with a speck of residual blood.

Tears she had suppressed for months suddenly rushed to the surface, coming in waves of salty brine. She sobbed for her lifelong friendship, now dead and lost. She sobbed for her lost friendship with Carmine, destroyed by the power of chemical impulse. She sobbed because she wanted to forgive Lenny, but couldn't, just couldn't.

And when her tears dried, she picked up the phone and called Edna Babbish.

***

The truth spilled out in a rush, and suddenly Edna knew everything that Laverne had been trying so frantically to supress.

She ended her final sentence with the phrase "Please don't tell Pop."

"Oh, honey, why didn't you come to me before?"

"I thought you'd let it spill!"

She sighed, "Laverne, a woman who's been married as many times as I have doesn't tell every man she loves every little thing about her life," She leaned in conspiratorially. "Shirley's behavior was so horrible. I know I don't blame you for sleeping with Carmine."

Laverne shrugged, "That don't matter now." She sighed, "Ya know what, Mrs. Babbish? Carmine was real nice...the whole thing was real nice, and a lotta fun.." She looked at her knees, "I want more than nice."

Edna smiled fondly, "You need to talk with Lenny."

Her eyes went wide, "How did ya know about me an' Lenny?!"

"Laverne, everyone knows about you and Lenny," she laughed, "I can tell you like each other."

Laverne shook her head. Too little, too late.

****

The daisy parade continued; as Laverne was promoted up the Shotz ladder...as December faded into January. A year passed suddenly. Blossoms had begun their yearly sojurn through the snow when Laverne gave in and ended up at the boys' front door.

Squiggy was gone; Lenny sat, alone, staring down into the garbage cans below his second-story apartment. They met with awkward smiles.

"Here," Laverne said awkwardly, handing Lenny a daisy, "For holdin' my hair back while I puked."

"Yeah; I could hear ya through the mine shaft." Lenny's smile remained innocent; he took the daisy and gazed into her eyes. He took a deep breath, "Laverne, I'm sorry 'bout gettin' together with Shirl on that scheme," he sighed, "I just..." He threw up his hands, "It's real hard ta love ya. I got desperate."

Her eyes had been cleansed of bitterness, but a vague sadness remained, "I know ya did it cause ya want ta be with me me, Len," She sighed, "What made ya think that scheme was gonna work, anyway?"

Lenny shook his head, "Shirl said it would turn out OK."

Shirl Said It Would Turn Out OK. How many aborted schemes had she embarked upon in a desperate attempt to make their lives better for just that reason? In the end, they had all fallen pawn to their own manipulation; had wounded one another mortally over their own insecurities.

"Come here, Len." She held out her arms, and he hesitated a moment. But she was soon swept up in a warm bear hug.

She pushed Lenny away from her body, gently, "Len, I got somethin' ta tell ya."

He tilted his head, listening thoughtfully. "Yeah?"

There was no delicate way to say this, "I slept with Carmine."

Lenny didn't even blink, "I knew that."

"Huh?!"

"I saw th' two of ya standin' outside his apartment last year," He shrugged, "I thought you guys were an item. Couldn't blame ya. I guess I woulda picked him over me, if I had a choice."

Laverne was amazed, "You ain't mad?"

He shook his head and shrugged, "I ain't got no claims on ya, Vernie." The unstated was that he wished to, but wanted her invitation.

She looked into his eyes, "Hold me, Len." She said simply.

And he did.


***

(Three Years Later)

Their hands were united. It was a pose for support, for they needed one another more than anything else at that moment.

Word had come down that morning. They had lost Carmine, too.

Laverne had been saddened by Shirley's death, which had happened a year before. Everyone who knew her attributed her suicide to the failure of her marriage to Carmine. One morning in May, she simply slit her wrists in a bathtub, ending the life of her unborn baby in the process.

Carmine was consumed, swiftly, by his own guilt. He took to the bottle, and a tree had ended his life abruptly.

How did she feel? Angry? Satisfied? Saddened? Maybe a large combination of all three. But the lid had slammed closed on her past with Carmine's death.

Lenny. Lenny was her future. Her big lug of a husband, who couldn't quite believe that she had fogiven him for his transgression. The man who had taught her to forgive, and taught in turn to forgive.

The man who was now her lover, passionate and creative as possible.

"I can't believe they're gone." Lenny said, quietly, staring at the limestone monuments in silent sadness.

Laverne nuzzled Lenny's shoulder, "Ya know what I'm gonna do?"

"What?"

"Remember 'em as they were." And when she closed her eyes, Laverne could remember skipping down Knapp Street with Shirley, holding hands, innocent. She could remember listening to Carmine sing and dancing with him, feeling an unpursueable thrill.

Yet the memory of that sad and yet exhilarating night had faded with time. She rubbed her rounding belly absently, trying to evoke the old passion that Carmine had caused to rise within her flesh.

Somehow, he face had been supplanted by Lenny's.

She laughed; such a romantic fool. Was she, after all. She dropped a handful of daisies upon each grave, one too fresh, one too old. Shirley had gotten what she wanted in the end: to spend eternity with Carmine.

With that last thought Laverne rejoined her husband in the world of the living.


Fin











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