SERIES: Italiano Song

PART: 4 of 8

RATING: PG (Adult thematic material)

PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; F/E; some Shirley/Anthony DeFazio

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself 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.  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: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: During "Festival," after part one and just before part two; some alternate material from the established canon for the episodes.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: What if Laverne's grandmother had taken a shine to Lenny instead of Squiggy during "The Festival"? 

NOTES: Basically follows the events and timeline of "The Festival," though using some alternate material.

 

****

 

"Laverne!   LAVERNE!!"

 

"Five more minutes, Pop..."

 

The wall of darkness separating Laverne from reality receded with a harsh yank.  Her eyes slammed open as she rolled back and away from the intruding stream of buttercup-colored light illuminating this intruder to her dreams.  As she came to consciousness, Laverne recognized the voice of her tormentor.

 

"Mercy's sake, get up - you're not going to get anything accomplished by being a lazybones!" Shirley declared, her striped blue dress and flowered apron making her positively the clone of June Lockhart.

 

Laverne glared up at her best friend.  "What time'zit?"

 

"Nine AM."

 

"Shirl, I wanted to sleep in..." she whined.

 

"Oh, fine - they're having the Parade of the Virgin today, and, according to your Grandmother, you wouldn't be able to sleep through that even if you were deaf!"

 

The words penetrated Laverne's foggy state.  "The Parade of the Virgin!"  She stretched and yawned, climbing out of bed. 

 

"Yes, the Parade of the Virgin - hurry up and get dressed, the oatmeal's getting cold!"

 

"Oatmeal?"  She was wide awake now - and shaking Shirley.  "What happened to my Grandma?"

 

"Calm down!"  She pulled Laverne's grasping fingers free of her blouse.  "Your grandmother took Edna and Mister DeFazio to see your Uncle Nunzio on the Lower East Side.  She asked me to make breakfast for the rest of you and start work on the lasagna for tonight."

 

Laverne sighed her relief, slowly, visibly, calming.  "Geez, Shirl, you scared me to death!" She bent over the side of their bed, pulling out her plaid suitcase and unzipping it. 

 

"Well, I'm sorry.  Squiggy's been driving me mad this morning -"

 

"What'd he do now?"

 

A crash.  Shirley's eyes bugged out, her arms locked at her sides as she marched into the kitchen.  "ANDREW!"

 

"WAAH?" Squiggy whined.

 

Laverne shook her head at the warped domesticity between the two brunettes.  Selecting a pair of cut-offs and a white halter blouse, she zipped the suitcase, and then walked to the hall bathroom.  After going through her usual morning routine, Laverne emerged, fresh, dressed, and ready for breakfast - lumpy as it might be.

 

In the living area, she found an organized brand of disaster.

 

Squiggy sat in the middle chair on the left side of the dining table, a napkin tucked into the collar of his tee-shirt.  He was lustily eating a pile of burned-to-black toast, dribbling crumbs all over the table, dish, his lap and the floor.

 

"...And you'll eat every last piece you burned!"

 

"Yeah, so what?  I like my toast like this!"  Squiggy retorted - spraying more crumbs across the table, as Shirley squealed her disgust. 

 

Laverne selected a seat out of Squiggy's firing range and settled down.   An empty bowl and a refolded copy of the New York Times made her realize that Lenny was already up and gone for the day.  When Shirley returned to the kitchen, Laverne leaned over the table.

 

"What'd you do, Squig?"

 

"Nothin!  That roommate of yours is nuts!"

 

"Squig..."

 

He scratched at his ear.  "So what if I broke your Grandma's toaster?"

 

"SQUIGGY!"

 

"What?!  I already paid for a new one outta my vacation fund -"

 

"You mean Lenny's vacation fund..."

 

"What's going on with you and Lenny?" Squiggy smirked.  "If he's lucky, something's going down with you and -OW!"  He winced away from Laverne, rubbing his forearm.  "What'd you punch me for?"

 

"There's nothing between me and Len.  Nothing."

 

"Right..."

 

Shirley emerged from the kitchen, carrying two bowls teaming with oatmeal - she placed one before Laverne, and then occupied the chair to her left.  Laverne smiled her 'thank-you', then picked up the carved silver spoon sitting on her saucer.  She plunged it into the oatmeal, withdrew - and pulled out a gluey string of brown wheat.  She gulped.

 

"What kinda oatmeal is this, Shirl?"

 

"Instant."

 

Laverne gulped again.  "Have either of you seen Len?"

 

"He's downstairs, washing Maggie in the lobby - where are you going?  You didn't even touch your breakfast!"

 

Laverne had already left her chair behind, opening the front door.  "Maybe he needs me."

 

Shirley shook her head, staring at Laverne's vacated chair.  "I don't know what's gotten into that girl..."

 

"Lemme give you a hint - it starts with L and ends with nowski."

 

The little brunette gave a dramatically false chuckle.  "Don't make me laugh, Andrew!  There isn't any way on God's green earth that Laverne could be interested in Lenny!"

 

"Mebbe so, mebbe so.  But weirder stuff's happened."

 

"Like?"

 

"Like the aliens kidnapping Abe Lincoln's head..."

 

"You featherbrain!  That never happened!"

 

"Boy - don't tell me you're missin' out on your daily news!" Squiggy shook his head.  "I know what I'm gettin' you for your birthday - a year of Sci Fi Monthly!"

 

"That's not necessary..."

 

"Yes it is," he tilted back his glass of orange juice, draining it.  He shook the empty glass in Shirley's direction.  "You got any more back there?"

 

Shirley gritted her teeth.  "Anything to keep you from getting up..."

 

***

 

Laverne paused to clear her mind of all thoughts oatmeal-related before striding down the landing to the building's ground floor.  Lenny was easily located as he knelt in the middle of the vestibule before a soaking wet Maggie, his tee-shirt and face dripping with water, massaging shampoo into the dog's thick fur.  Maggie resembled a Himalayan snow beast as she sat in one of Missus DeFazio's old washtubs, seemingly weary of the experience - her eyes brightened noticeably when Laverne entered her range of site.  Then again, so did Lenny's. 

 

"Need some help?" Laverne offered.

 

He looked up - and as distracted as he seemed, offered her a grin.  "Can you get her belly?"

 

Laverne knelt to Maggie's unoccupied left side, and reached for the half-full bottle of shampoo lying tilted-over to her left.  Laverne squinted at the bottle.  "This is Shirl's good conditioner."

 

"Aww - I'll buy some to replace it..."

 

"The stuff that costs five bucks!"

 

Lenny's eyes turned guilty.  "It was all I could find in the bathroom - you won't tell, will you?"

 

"Not if we leave a little bit," Laverne dotted her palm with a droplet of the creamy rinse, then reached under Maggie, her fingers working through the sopping fur to create a rich lather.  "D'you brush her before you started?"

 

Lenny worked his soapy hands across the dog's neck and then across her throat - his response was delivered in a teasing voice.  "Yes, I brushed her before we started - don't touch her tail, Laverne, she don't like that - and I got a bunch of gunk off of her."

 

"Why don't she like her tail touched?"

 

"I dunno, but that's why I'm all wet - she kept moving around and hitting me in the face with it."

 

"Maybe that's to show how much she likes you."

 

"Ha ha."

 

Laverne had guessed from Lenny's appearance and happiness to see her that washing Maggie had been a bit of a trial.  When he started to wash the pup's front legs, she swiped the top of his head with her tongue as if asking for forgiveness.

 

"Hey!  That tickles, Laverne!"

 

Laverne looked skyward. "It's not me." She stroked bridge of Maggie's snout.  The dog's amber eyes closed and she leaned back into Laverne.  Laverne noticed then that Maggie wasn't a purebred Sheppard - there was raffia of curly locks about her neck, and her honey-brown eyes, bearded muzzle and the shape of her snout suggested that she was a mixed breed.  With what, Laverne couldn't tell - the gsd in her was easily recognized.  "She likes being touched a lot for a stray."

 

Lenny snorted.  "Everyplace but the tail..." he trailed off thoughtfully.  "That make her, y'know, weird?"

 

"When I volunteered at the animal shelter with Shirl most of the strays didn't like being touched.  They were used to people being mean to them or leaving them alone - some of them had been tied up for a long time, like Maggie.  A lot of them were put to sleep," the memory was surprisingly hard to recount - Shirley had come home crying most nights, and it had been Laverne's job to keep her going, keep her belief in the nobility of her outlet.  Laverne pushed it all aside, trying to remain glib.  "None of them had a thing about their tails, though."  She tugged gently at Maggie's, and the dog gave a warning growl.

 

There was an extra wetness ringing Lenny's eyes.  His voice came out thickly.  "Who would kill a dog, Laverne?"

 

"No one wanted to kill them - sometimes, they were too dangerous to be put with people.  It was worse before Shirley started complaining about their policies, 'cause before that they used to kill dogs because no one wanted to take them."

 

"But, maybe they didn't try hard enough with them - maybe they didn't take long enough or say the right things..."  A tender feeling overcame Laverne - Lenny sounded like a little boy whose balloon had been popped.  "Maybe they didn't give them enough love."

 

"But sometimes, it just ain't enough."

 

"That ain't right," he asserted.  "It ain't right to give up on anything, 'til you know it ain't gonna work."

 

Laverne was stunned.  Lenny Kosnowski had always had an extra measure of faith in his soul.  Even as a child, he had been the last one to leave church every Sunday, so busy was he occupying God with prayers - some selfish, some magnanimous.  She knew from bitter experience that petitioning the saints was a semi-successful enterprise, and it wasn't guaranteed to bring happiness every time - she had gotten a new bicycle, but her mother had died of cancer.  She had spent many fruitless hours as an eight-year-old trying to tell Lenny that he couldn't pray himself over the poverty line, or bring his mother back into his life, and eventually he had listened to her.  So she had thought.

 

 "She belonged to someone.  They left her out there to starve.  I wanna find 'em and rip their lungs out -"

 

"I know."

 

"You know?" He seemed surprised by the notion that they shared a common feeling.

 

"But..."

 

Lenny scoffed.  "You're gonna say I should just forget what they did?"

 

"No - but we don't know who she belonged to.  And there probably ain't a way to figure out for sure."  Lenny's face elongated into a sallow-cheeked display of misery.  "What matters is that we stopped her from dying.  That sorta makes you a hero."

 

He into her eyes.  "Nah."

 

"Yeah!"

 

A tiny smile spread across his lips.  "No one ever called me that before.  'Specially you."

 

Laverne had been silenced by his tone.  She had always been nice to Lenny - told him how sweet he was.  But she'd never told him she was proud of him or praised him - and she sensed that Lenny rarely won praise from women generally.  It occurred to her that she'd never FELT pride for him - never until now.

 

Maggie whined softly, licking at Lenny's face - that broke the sadness in this atmosphere.  He wrapped his arms around the dog's neck and gave her a big hug.  Maggie's mouth opened, her eyes snapping and bright.  Laverne felt herself smile - they were a natural pair, as natural as she and Shirley, and Lenny himself with Squiggy. 

 

"I got her all soaped up."  Laverne interrupted.

 

Lenny retrieved a pitcher of clean water from the floor beside him - she recognized the old plastic pitcher as having belonged to her grandmother - and dumped it over the dog's back.  After refilling the pitcher twice, all of the soap had been rinsed off of Maggie's back.  But Lenny knew what was coming.  "Don't shake, don't shake -"

 

As prematurely trained as his dog seemed to be, she couldn't disobey her natural instincts.  Laverne and Lenny were saturated in an instant. 

 

Laverne had thrown her hands out in a protective measure, but Maggie's vigorous shaking ended up coating her thoroughly.  As she tried to shake the water from her coppery hair, she heard Lenny's laughter - his bubbly snort was infectious.  Laverne met his eyes over Maggie's neck, and she swiftly looked away. 

 

He began to mop up the floor with a towel, wadded it up, and then offered another one to Laverne.  The final towel he used on Maggie, who sat on his command and submitted to the rubdown with surprising agreeability.   He picked her up and placed her on the floor outside of the tub, then dried himself, then  picked up a red comb from the floor and slipped it into the hip pocket of his jeans.

 

"I gotta go back upstairs.  Can you watch her for me?"

 

Laverne suddenly realized that she'd left her money in Grandmother DeFazio's apartment. "Nah, I'll dump out the tub - and I gotta go upstairs for my purse.  Whattya need? "

 

"Where you goin'?"

 

"The storm break?"

 

"Yep."

 

"I guess back to the fair.  Whatt're you gonna do for the rest of the day?"

 

"Take Maggie for a walk - this book Squiggy got me says she needs to run arond a lot.  After that, I dunno."

 

"Did you get her a leash?"  Lenny produced a bright red collar and leash from behind himself.   "Where'd you get those?"

 

"Squig bought 'em down at Woolworth’s."

 

"He bought 'em for you, you mean."  Lenny shook his head.  "Squiggy spent money on you?  You know that's a sign of the apocalypse."

 

"He's a nice guy, Laverne.  I know you don't know that part of him, but - "

 

"I don't want to know anything about Squiggy's parts," she chuckled.  She carefully lifted up the tub of water, the weight making her bow-legged.  She negotiated the sloshing tub carefully, worrying about spilling more water - she had no idea how she might open the door. 

 

When she looked up, it was cracked wide.

 

"Thanks, Len."

 

"Thank you."

 

After waddling down the front step and finding an open drain, she dumped the pan out - managing not to get herself wetter.  Then she came inside to collect the shampoo, comb and damp towels, which Lenny gave over - to her surprise, he had dried up the vestibule, and had even thought ahead and brought a dry shirt to change into.  Laverne gave Maggie an affectionate pat before heading back upstairs.

 

The scene had not become any more placid.

 

"...For the fiftieth time, don't put your finger in the sauce!"

 

"Then how're we gonna know if it needs more garlic?"

 

"WE'LL NEVER KNOW, BECAUSE NOW I NEED TO THROW IT AWAY!"

 

Laverne made herself invisible - she replaced the lost shampoo, and then put the comb among Lenny's things. She found her purse in the bedroom, and there she toweled and powdered her damp chest and hair, then switched into a sea foam-green halter top. Finally, she tossed the towels and her wet blouse down the laundry chute.

 

"Hi, guys..."

 

"NO MORE PEPPERS!  I HATE PEPPERS!"

 

Shirley turned to Laverne and said in a honeyed voice, "Laverne, where does your Grandmother keep the peppers?"

 

"WOMAN!"

 

"First drawer in the refrigerator."  After that, Laverne made herself absent from the kitchen.

 

Downstairs, Maggie already wore her collar and leash.  Lenny had combed his hair back into its usual sloppy ducktail - he was in the process of buttoning up a red plaid shirt.

 

The sight of him made her pause - with his head bowed and his eyes focused, Lenny looked like another man.  Laverne had never seen him undressed before - Lenny wore socks and a tee shirt under his pajamas, the numerous times she'd seen him before bedtime - and it had never occurred to her to examine him as she might any other man.  Laverne noted his solid build - Lenny stood tall and long - but somehow thicker and stronger in the chest, with legs and arms hardened by years of physical labor.  His surprisingly nimble fingers ascended slowly up the front of the shirt - she wondered how someone so clumsy could move his hands with any sort of swift accuracy.  He's a guitarist, she recalled suddenly.   Guitarists have quick hands.  One more fact carried down from her adolescence.  This banter with herself occurred as a distraction - distraction from the fact that he made an appealing picture - a desirable one, one that she wanted to keep watching.   He noticed her then, in a frozen state on the landing.

 

"Ready to go?" He had finished fiddling with the shirt and bent to take possession of Maggie's leash.  "Laverne, are you ready?"

 

She snapped out of her trance.  "Oh!  Yeah, I'm ready."  She descended the final step and passed by, trying to exude rationality.  Lenny opened the door for her again, keeping Maggie in a sitting position - when she walked out into the deathly hot day, they followed.

 

The Brooklyn morning lounged in gold around them - puddles of rain dried in dark crevices on the sidewalk, steaming as the sun began to beat down.  At the scene of the carnival, activity had already begun to buzz- hot dog venders and balloonists setting up their wears on street corners, tent owners beginning to dry off their saturated tents.  Neighbors had already begun to emerge - the working men and women had already gone off for the day, leaving housewives, children, and the elderly behind to take in the early bargains of the festival morning.  Into the middle of this scene, Lenny and Laverne began their walk.

 

Lenny craned his neck about, taking in the buildings and the sites.  "Hey, what's that place?"

 

Laverne followed his pointing finger - "It's a synagogue, Len."

 

"It looks real swanky - that where the mayor lives?"

 

She chuckled.  "Nah - it's sorta like a church."

 

"Oh," he seemed embarrassed - his stride became more brisk.  Laverne, in her black pumps, had to work twice as hard to keep up with him and the energetic Maggie.

 

"Slow down!" She begged.

 

Gradually, he did.  "Sorry - Maggie likes to pull."

 

"My legs're short, Len."

 

"No they ain't."

 

"Compared to you!"

 

Lenny snorted.  "I got legs like a spider - little sticks."

 

"There ain't anything little about you, Len."  She was the only one to hear the double-entandre.

 

"There's a park somewhere, right?"

 

"A sandlot two blocks away - it used to be a sandlot when I was a kid," she corrected herself.

 

At the end of the block, they met a crosswalk.  Cars whizzed by, in a greater number than they'd seen in Milwaukee.  The traffic thinned out slowly, a fact that Lenny didn't even notice, so busy was he with keeping Maggie on the curb.  Impatiently, Laverne surrounded the fingers of his left hand with hers, pulling him into the street.  The contact shocked him out of his distraction. 

 

"Way's clear," she smiled.

 

 

***

 

At the sandlot, where Maggie frolicked as Laverne tossed a branch to her waiting mouth.  Lenny watched her in silence, his expression thoughtful.

 

"She likes you."

 

Laverne shrugged, trying to tug the branch out of Maggie's mouth.  The dog bore down, pulling back - they had a brief tug-of-war before Maggie eagerly ceded the branch to Laverne.  "She likes lots of people - Edna, and Pop.  Even Squig."

 

"Yeah, but she really likes you."  Lenny tucked his middle fingers into the pockets of his jeans.  "She don't act like that with Shirley!"

 

"That's 'cause Shirl's voice probably hurts her ears - the dogs in the shelter didn't like it much, either."

 

"Wouldya lookit this?"

 

Instinctively, Laverne drew herself up taller, her fists balling around Maggie's leash - the voice sparked long-hidden memories and childhood wounds.  Maggie picked up on Laverne's tensions - her whiskers stood on end, and a growl sounded from within her.

 

"Hello, Gino."

 

Gino leered at Laverne while his cousins - taller, but just as thick-fisted - chuckled nastily.  "That any way to greet your old buddies?  Don'tcha remember the Malachi boys?" Laverne didn't want to, but did she ever remember.  "Lookit this - the ol' tomboy filled out."

 

She smirked.  "Just 'cause I got a bust now don't mean I ain't still better at stickball than you ."

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

"Yeah," she looked Gino up and down - he'd run to fat since she'd last seen him, his buzz cut almost concealing his withering hairline.  "Hey, I might be wrong - whatt're you now, Gino - an a or a b cup?"

 

Gino reached out to strike her, but she ably dodged the blow.  Suddenly, Lenny stepped between them, anger etched into his features.   "Nobody tries to hit Laverne."

 

"Who's this?  Your poodle?"

 

Lenny's expression turned crestfallen.  "I ain't no one's poodle!"

 

"Poodle?  I meant pickle head."  He pinched Lenny's upper arm.  A furious barking sounded from Maggie - in a blink, she was on Gino's pant leg, yanking furiously.

 

"Get that mutt off of me!" He yelped, but only Laverne's strong yanking and colorful exclamations unlocked Maggie's grip.

 

"Get outta here, Gino!" She panted, petting Maggie's straining back.

 

"That mutt otta be put down!" Maggie snapped, her fur standing on end, and that was enough to drive Gino and his cousins out through the chain linked fence. 

 

Laverne knelt in the aftermath, trying to calm Maggie with her touch.  Lenny stared at the retreating backs of the Malachi boys, making threatening gestures.  Lenny's childishness could infuriate her so.  Maggie gradually relaxed in Laverne's arms - she let out a series of whimpers, licking Laverne's exposed arms.  Then she walked over to Lenny, poked the back of his knees, and made a series of growling whimpers that were so expressive they could have made a speech.  Then she walked back to Laverne, then to Lenny, until both humans had forgotten their anger.  Maggie gave up her attempt at communication, lying down in the space between them with a protracted sigh. 

 

"What was that about?" Laverne wondered.

 

"I don't think she likes it when we get angry."

 

Laverne's expression hardened.  "C'mon - we ain't gonna let them spoil our day."

 

Lenny knelt to buckle Maggie's collar to her leash.  "Shirl said somethin' about there being a parade?"

 

"Yeah - every year, St. Anthony's holds a parade in honor of the Virgin the week of the festival.  They crown a girl in Mary's name - she has to have been really busy working with the church all year.  The high school bands play, and the fire trucks and policemen come out - they throw hard candy like nobody's business."

 

"Boy that sounds like fun - wish I had someone to take."

 

"Well, I ain't got nothing else to do..."

 

"You mean you wanna be seen with me?"

 

Laverne shrugged.  "I didn't mean what I said to you and Squig."

 

"Yeah," Lenny said, his voice sad.  His eyes still rested on the vacant space left by the Malachi boys.  "You did."

 

 

***

 

On the way back to her grandmother's place, more to placate her nerves than anything, Laverne found herself relating the story of Shirley and Squiggy's argument to him.   "...I hope Grandma gets back before they kill each other."

 

Lenny chuckled.  "She shoulda known better than to leave Squig alone with a toaster.  I don't let him touch anything that uses electricity."

 

"I don't believe that - don't you ever leave him alone?"

 

"Not much," Lenny's smile was bittersweet.  "Unless he's got a girl, we're together all the time."

 

"Kinda like me and Shirl.  It's always me and Shirl, or me and my Pop, or me and some guy...I ain't never had much time to think about what I'd do without her."

 

"...'Cause without friends, there ain't much to living.  So you just try to watch tv, or you sit around and eat -  there's nothing better to do."

 

He understood what she meant.  "Yeah."

 

"Laverne!"

 

She turned in mid-step, bumping into Lenny.  The shouts originated from a short, dark-haired woman of about sixty or so, sitting on her stoop in a red housedress and green apron.

 

Laverne disengaged herself from Maggie's leash and Lenny's tangled arms and walked to the stoop.  "Hey, Mrs. Irving."

 

"I don't believe it!  You're two times taller than my Danny now!"  She peered at Laverne, taking an especially long study of her hands.  "Are you a Sadie yet?"

 

Lenny's brow quirked in confusion.  "No, Missus Irving, this is Laverne."

 

"I ain't married," Laverne corrected.

 

"My Danny's single too!  Maybe you could come by for dinner - I'll make my Chicken Kiev..."

 

"Ugh - I can't come tonight - we're doing a family thing.  'Sides, I need to rest - Pop 'n me are climbing the pole in two days!"

 

"So the DeFazios are the mystery third family."

 

"Yep.   My Pop has his heart on sendin' Grandma to Italy this year."

 

"Good.  Alessia needs a vacation."

 

"Alessia?"  This new name confused Lenny all the more.

 

"That's Grandma's name.  Her whole name's Alessia Maria San Angela DeFazio," Laverne explained to Lenny. 

 

"That's a mouthful," Missus Irving noted.  "When I met her, she told me to call her Lisa."

 

"She gave up on being called Lisa a long time ago - no one in the family would do it.  Especially not my Pop."

 

"Frank always one for formalities.  And for taking care of his mother."

 

"All the same, I wish he didn't wanna climb that pole."

 

"Dont worry about him - Fabrizo DeFazio is the most determined man ever to come out of  Brooklyn."

 

"More than Frank Sinatra?"

 

"They both got out of the boroughs, didn't they?" 

 

"And some days I think I oughta've stayed there!" Frank ambled up the sidewalk and embraced Missus Irving.  "How're you doing, Carole?"

 

"Forget about me - my Danny's a doctor!"

 

While Missus Irving gushed about her Danny, Laverne helped her Grandma onto the sidewalk and took Edna's shopping bags.

 

"Your Uncle Nunzio sure is generous!  Anything your Grandmother wanted, he bought!"

 

"Did he get you anything, Edna?"

 

"One Statue Of Liberty planter."

 

Laverne chuckled.  "Sounds like Uncle Nunzio.  You wanna get a soda and talk about it?"

 

"If it's all the same, I'm going to soak my feet upstairs.  I'll see you at dinner, Laverne."

 

"See ya, Edna." And she left all of the bags in Laverne's arms.

 

At that point, an enthralled Maggie managed to free herself from Lenny's grip and had began to jump on her hind legs in front of Alessia, planting her paws on the woman's thighs.  Lenny scolded her, trying to get the dog down, but Missus DeFazio's response was to press the Maggie's face between her palms and rub her soft fur, murmuring kind words in Italian.  The dog's tongue flopped out in a sort of satisfied grin.

 

"Have you had your lunch yet?" The older woman finally asked.

 

"We were just headin' in for some," Laverne said over the lip of one of Edna's bags. 

 

"It's almost twelve - you will miss the parade!"

 

"That's all right..."

 

"No,  I will get Maggie her lunch," Alessia insisted.  "I promised Fabrizio I'd make my minestrone - and we will be sure to leave some behind for dinner."

 

"I'll get us lunch, Laverne - I still got some of the money Carmine gave me for film..." Lenny offered.

 

"But I don't -"

 

Lenny had already relinquished the leash to Alessia, and Maggie came instantly to heel.  "Thanks so much, ma'am."

 

"I adore the puppy, so it is a pleasure, not a struggle.  Make sure that my granddaughter eats, Leonardo."

 

Laverne stepped in. "Not eating isn't a problem for me, Grandma, but..."

 

The older woman pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek, letting Maggie lead her down the block and up the stairs, to the front door.  "I will see you at six, no?" She shouted.

 

"Yeah, but..." 

 

"Oh!  Missus DeFazio, I left her food dish -" Lenny rushed over to help the elderly woman, yanking the bags out of Laverne's arms and nearly knocking her over in the process.

 

Frank had disengaged himself from Missus Irving, and cornered Laverne.  "I gotta talk to you about strategy tonight."

 

"I'll be there."

 

"That's my Muffin," he watched Lenny's animated conversation with his mother.  "You know how to break his nose if he puts his hands -"

 

Why did everyone keep making insinuations about herself and Lenny?  "Pop, he's just my friend..."

 

"Yeah?  You've spent more time with him than Shirley this week, and for you that's somethin' big.   I know he ain't Italian, but if you wanna date him -"

 

"I wish everyone would get it through their heads that I ain't interested in Lenny Kosnowski!"

 

"Hey, you want it through my head?  Fine - I ain't gonna ask you about him no more!  I got enough problems on my hands!"

 

"I'm sorry, Pop."

 

"You don't gotta be sorry - just be at your Grandma's by six!"

 

"I got it."  Frank retreated, walking up to the stoop.  There he exchanged packages and glances pregnant of meaning -at least on Frank's side- with Lenny before entering the building with Maggie and his mother.

 

Lenny watched their retreat, confusion evident on his face.  He walked back to Laverne in antic confusion.  "Why's your Pop mad at me?"

 

"He thinks something's going on, and it's not." 

 

"Well, I didn't do nothing..."

 

"He knows.  Hey, I'll get us seats on Missus Irving's stoop - if I remember right, you can see the whole parade from there."

 

"Great - I'll get lunch."

 

Laverne headed up the steps of the brownstone of Missus Irving's building swiftly.  The structure sat on the far left opposite corner of her Grandmother's building.  When she got to the top step of the stoop she waved to Lenny, who waved back at her from a nearby hot dog stand.    Already, the crowd began to thicken on Saint Anthony Avenue and Sienna Boulevard.

 

As Laverne settled down, hissing as the hot pavement overheated her bare legs, Missus Irving reemerged from her building, dragging a folding chair with her.  Laverne was up and helping her instantly - the older woman smiled her gratitude before sitting down.  

 

"I see why you're not interested in Danny."

 

Laverne turned around.  "Huh?"

 

"There aren't many like him in this world - good to women, good to animals.  High marks of character.  If I were you, I'd try to get a ring out of him."

 

"Him who?"

 

"Him him," she pointed toward Lenny, who nearly tripped on his way to the curb, arms laden with goodies.

 

"D'ya buy out the whole stand?" Laverne teased, plucking a sack of potato chips and a Nutty Buddy out of the crook of Lenny's elbow.

 

"I didn't know what kinda chips you like, so I got two kinds - here's your hot dog, extra mustard." She took the dog from his left hand, leaving Lenny with a bag of chips, his own hot dog, and two sodas. 

 

"What kind of drink did you get?"

 

"Lemonade."

 

Laverne smiled approvingly.  She opened up the Styrofoam top to her glass and glanced in before poking at the beverage with her straw.  "You remembered the ice, too."

 

"It's a hundred degrees," He sat down on the stoop's first step, and she joined him, "you gotta be a real moron not to want ice today." He put down his drink and dog and reached into his back pocket, finding a hankie and mopping his forehead with it.  Then he peered into his glass.  "Guess I'm a moron."

 

"You want some of mine?" Laverne was already tilting her Styrofoam cup over his glass.

 

"Sure," he opened up the lid of his cup and she pushed three ice cubes into it with her straw.  "Thanks," he smiled.

 

"Such a gentleman.  Just what I meant," Missus Irving said from behind them.

 

"Huh?" Lenny wondered.

 

"Nothing," Laverne filled in quickly.  They then ate - Laverne's hot dog was half-gone when the sound of a tuba began to echo brassily.  "Parade's starting!"

 

Lenny ate ravenously as the music came closer and closer to the stoop.  Laverne finished her hot dog with enthusiasm, eyes widening as the first marching band came into view.

 

In two neat lines, the Rosa Street High School marching band strode down Saint Anthony Avenue in its pressed white and crimson uniforms.  Their enthusiastic but out-of-tune playing captivated easily - Laverne didn't recognize the tune, but it was catchy.  Lenny's knee bounced up-and-down beside her, dripping relish off of his hot dog and onto the pavement between them.

 

An entire school's worth of children followed next, waving to their audience - Laverne red in brown felt a banner reading "PS 120".  Then the wailing of sirens.  "Here comes the firemen," Laverne grinned.

 

First came a phalanx of cops, flashing their lights and beeping their horns.  Then two fire trucks rolled down the avenue, an older model from the early 1900's and a brand new engine.  Two attractive men in their early twenties hung off the ladders on each side, pitching hard candy into the assembled crowd from their hats.  Eager hands rose up from the masses, wrapped candy slipping through young fingers.  Laverne had little interest in a sugar high, however - sticking out her leg and batting her lashes, she tried to make eye contact with the tall redhead distributing the candy as he passed by.  All it earned her was a face full of hard candy. 

 

"You okay?"

 

"Yeah," she tried to shake the sugar out of her hair, and a rain of cinnamon pinwheels fell like hail to the ground around her, into her lemonade.  Laverne settled back down with a grumble.

 

A few floats arrived then - both pulled by adults in tandem bikes and featuring well-groomed youngsters.  On the last one stood a little girl among white cotton clouds in a white dress on a wooden throne, her red hair reflecting the rays of the hostile sun.  Behind her was a department store dummy, dressed in a choir robe, her saran wig limp, which was meant to represent the Virgin Mary.

 

Laverne tugged on Lenny's arms.  "That's the girl  - the queen of the festival."

 

"Where's her crown?"

 

"The parade ends at Saint Anthony's - they crown her there."

 

Lenny studied her as she passed.  As the Brooklyn Cattlehead Junior High School marching band passed them by, his voice came from a far-away world.  "It's gotta be hot in those robes," he finally said.

 

Laverne understood that his mouth and his meaning were not connecting.  "Even princesses feel it when it's ninety degrees, Len."  A street sweeper passed by, and Laverne stood, pitching her lemonade, Nutty Buddy wrapper and waxed paper into a nearby trash can.  "That's the end of the parade."

 

Lenny 'awwed', sitting up.  He carried nothing with him, and Laverne remembered him eating only one of his hotdogs. 

 

"What happened to your lunch?" 

 

He pointed back to the stoop, where Missus Irving enjoyed her treat.

 

"Thanks, Missus Irving!" Laverne called. 

 

"You’re welcome, you’re welcome – I’ll send Danny over with a casserole before you leave!"

 

“I’ll tell Grandma,” she poked Lenny’s side and quickly turned around.  “More like warn her.  Especially if she sends pizza casserole.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Can of wieners dumped over a can of biscuits in ketchup.”

 

“Mmm!”

 

Laverne sighed her exasperation as Lenny waved his goodbye, then continued to walk back up the block.  "Whattya want to do?  I got five bucks left."

 

"Wanna play some games?"

 

"Sure!" His eyes lit up.  He encircled her wrist with his free hand and began to pull her back down the street - the game tents started a block up from Missus Irving's building, right in front of her Grandmother's place.  There they explored the different exhibitors - tents selling handmade wares, the snow cone and funnel cake carts.  The arcade stood further up the street, book ended by the monstrous-looking Whip and a ferris wheel.

 

Lenny let go of Laverne's hand and stepped up to the squirt gun stand, where a little boy in blue shorts waited for competition.  "Remember when I used to chase you around with one of these?" He picked up the wooden gun and squinted.

 

"Yeah!  You used to squirt me in CCD class.  Then my Pop got me one for Christmas!"

 

"I forgot that part!  We both got to be such good shots that we stopped fighting.  Then you and me were Bonnie and Clydesdale for awhile."

 

"No cats were safe," Laverne chuckled.  "'Til I started hanging out with Shirley." 

 

Lenny turned away, averting his emotional eyes.   "Then I had to settle for squirting you both from that tree you had by your bedroom window."

 

"And my Pop cut it down, 'cause he thought you were a twelve-year-old peeper."

 

"And I had to start climbing up the fire escape..." 

 

The little boy glared at them.  "You gonna talk mushy, or you gonna play?"

 

Lenny went into his pocket and planted a dollar on the counter, grabbing a gun and squinting as he aimed at the clown's mouth.  "C'mon - race me, Vernie.  It ain't fun unless you do it, too." 

 

"What'm I?" The little boy complained.  "Chopped liver?"

 

The booth's clerk turned on the water.  "You asked for it, Kosnowski." Laverne picked up her wooden pistol, steadied her aim.  She heard a bell and fired.

 

The pink balloon over her clown's head inflated steadily in comparison with Lenny's blue one.  Loudly, it exploded - as did Lenny's, practically in tandem.  Vexed, they turned to the booth's owner for a final judgment, but he had already handed their competition a large blue teddy bear.

 

"Whatta gyp!" Laverne complained, reholstering her gun.

 

"I guess we deserved it - actin' like he wasn't here."

 

Laverne strode away from the booth, moving up the alley.  "Wanna go on a ride?"

 

"Nah...ooh!  This looks easy!" 

 

He pointed at a too-familiar booth.  Laverne's face fell.  "I can't go back there!"

 

"Why?  You afraid I can throw a ball through a toilet lid better than you?"

 

She grinned arrogantly.  "It took you three seasons to get on-base back with Shotz."

 

Lenny's grin took on its own brand of mocking arrogance.  "You saying you're better at it than me?"

 

"Put your money where your mouth is!"

 

He grinned saucily, striding up to the booth.  "Five balls, please."

 

The booth's owner did as was requested of him - until his eyes fell on Laverne.  "Oh no - I ain't sellin' more balls to her!"

 

"I'll vouch for her." Lenny insisted.

 

"Fine - she breaks another lid or my head, and you pay!" He placed the balls in front of them.  Laverne held one between her palms, rubbing it between them as Lenny loosened his elbow.  When he leaned back to pitch, Laverne ducked out of the way.

 

Lenny looked down at her.  "You don't got no faith in me, do you?"

 

"Sometimes."

 

Lenny groaned, got into a stance, and threw the ball.

 

Laverne was astonished as it passed perfectly through the center.

 

"Gentleman wins!" 

 

The booth's owner passed a stuffed dog to Lenny - he righted Laverne and stepped out of the way.  "Your turn!"

 

Laverne stared at the ball, then Lenny, then the hole.  "I dunno if I can do it," she said honestly.

 

"Huh!  You're the best ball player I ever met, Laverne - I know you can!"

 

"I know I'm good at baseball - hitting and catching and running bases.  But I ain't never been good at pitching."

 

"Aww, it ain't hard," he stepped behind her, placing her purse on the counter before them and taking her hand in his.

 

"Len..." she warned.

 

"I learned how to pitch like this.  From a guy."

 

"Okay, what do I do?"

 

"You pull your arm back like this," she pulled her arm back.  "And you lean and aim like this..." he guided her body into a careful stance.  Together, they maintained their awkward position - arms touching, her elbow tucked against his, back and belly pressed together, the humidity gluing them. 

 

"Then?" Laverne's voice came out in an irritated whine.

 

"Let go." Lenny managed.

 

Laverne threw.

 

The ball soared.

 

"The lady wins!"

 

Laverne found herself hugging Lenny before she could stop herself.  His smile was pained but grateful.  Then someone was poking her arm with a stuffed animal. 

 

"You want your stuffed giraffe, lady?"

 

 

***

 

"Whatt're we gonna do with all these toys?"

 

Laverne peered over the back of her large red teddy bear, giraffe, two stuffed frogs and a pink elephant to Lenny, who was similarly weighed down with a large purple hippo, two teddy bears and two stuffed dogs.  "I got a couple of cousins who're young - you want anything to keep Jeffery company?"

 

"Nah, you can take 'em all - that reminds me.  I gotta take him out of my suitcase and introduce him to Maggie."

 

"You think she'll be jealous?"

 

"Nah - I treat all my kids the same." 

 

Laughing, they stood before her Grandmother's building.  When the mirth trailed away, nothing but awkwardness remained.  Laverne's smile reflected this.  "I wish I knew before how good you can pitch - we could've used ya on the mound last season."

 

"Switch me with Teddy from yeast?  Nah!"

 

"Why not?  You've got a better arm than him."

 

"Too bad he's on comp now."

 

It struck Laverne odd, how companionable and buddy-like their talk was.  She didn't know why it felt wrong and worse, why she seemed to want something more intimate.  "I'll put in a good word with Jeb for you."

 

"You don't gotta do that."

 

"Yeah, I do - you're a good guy, Len, and you got some golden talent there.  I wish you'd see it."

 

Lenny guffawed, abashed by her laudation.  "I'm just a guy."

 

"A pretty terrific guy."

 

A far-off warning of thunder echoed in the sky.  She hadn't even noticed the gradual graying of the afternoon - not when she held Lenny's hand on the ferris wheel as he shrieked, or when he encouraged her to buy a bottle to fill with colored sand, or when she finally learned the secret to pitching thanks to his generosity.  Lenny tucked the hippo under his chin and stretched his arm around her.  "We better get in, before it starts storming."

 

"I don't want it to end," she muttered.

 

"Me neither," he whispered back.

 

"Today, I mean - the fun.  I had a lot of fun..." She dropped her teddy bear and let out an unladylike curse.  Lenny bent to help her, but the mess of stuffed animals only made things more confusing, until somehow her arms had wound themselves around his neck.  They tried to laugh this off, but somehow it felt right to move closer to him, to open her mouth....

 

"Laverne!  Laverne!" 

 

She separated from Lenny, looking up into her Grandmother's face.

 

"Is it six-thirty?"

 

"It's six-thirty."

 

Laverne groaned.  Lenny look thunder stricken.

 

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

 

"Nah," they said together.

 

"Come upstairs - dinner's on the table!"

 

Laverne remembered herself instantly - cheeks smarting, she picked up as many of the animals as she could and rushed inside.  She could still hear Lenny's footsteps behind her as she climbed the front stairs.

 

***

 

A disheveled Laverne entered her grandmother's kitchen, dropping her purse onto the counter.  Her grandmother's lyrical voice felt like tacks under her skin.

 

"Bambina!  I've needed a word with you since this afternoon!"  She took her granddaughter aside and placed her on a kitchen chair, then poured her a cup of coffee.  "Have I ever told you how I met your Grandpapa?"

 

Laverne held the steaming mug to her lips.  "Yeah - it's one of Pop's favorite stories.  He said you were workin' in a cafe in Milan."

 

"Yes, yes - he was the head cook," she closed her eyes and shook her head.  "We were wild for each other- mad, so mad!  I wanted to scratch his eyes out, because he was so hard to work for!  But then I came to understand it was better to be pushed around by Tony in the bedroom than in the kitchen..."

 

"I don't wanna know this..."

 

"Do not cover your ears!"  Alessia held her granddaughter's hands against the steaming cup of coffee.  "Sometimes I hated your grandfather.  But I loved him just as much.  Like lasagna, there are many layers to the feelings between a man and a woman."

 

Laverne chuckled at her grandmother's analogy.  "Grandma, please..."

 

"I will say nothing more.  Promise me, though, that you will think about this."

 

Laverne nodded.  "Thanks, Grandma."

 

At that point, Lenny burst into the kitchen.  He avoided looking at Laverne and concerned himself with a fruit basket sitting on the kitchen windowsill. 

 

"I shall leave you alone,"

 

 Lenny's shoulders stiffened as she made her exit.  Then Laverne placed her hand on his back and he turned around, wide-eyed.

 

"We gotta talk," she said quietly.

 

"I didn't mean to do that, Vernie - I wasn't tryin' to take nothing off of you, but everything started happening real fast and -"

 

"I was the one trying to kiss you Len - you don't have to apologize." 

 

"Okay," he said gravely.  Then he astonished her by trying another kiss.  Fear and confusion warred in her mind, and she pushed him away.

 

"Not now."

 

"Huh?"

 

"I'm too confused."

 

His expression darkened.  "I get it."

 

"Huh?"

 

"I shoulda known - you don't want me, or to be seen with a loser like me, you said so yourself!  You were pretendin' you liked me just to get back at me for takin' those pictures of Shirley!" He crouched under the kitchen table, hiding from her eyes.

 

Laverne's jaw had dropped.  "Len, I..."

 

"It's real hard being your friend, Laverne – if that’s what we are.  I don't know what you want - you keep sayin’ you don't want me to touch you, and then you hug me.  You try to kiss me - then when I try to kiss you, I get shoved!"

 

"I don't mean to hurt you, Len."

 

"You are!"

 

"I'm sorry." She bit her lower lip.  "Geez, I dunno what to say..."

 

"Why do you keep doing it?" 

 

"Because I don't know how to stop!"

 

He peeked at her from underneath the table.  "Huh?"

 

Laverne stood up, beginning to pace.  "I feel so weird, Len - like I don't know what to do around you, or what to say - that everything I do say is the wrong thing.  And it’s all so new that I don’t know how to treat you." She closed her eyes against the sight of him. 

 

She heard material shifting material – he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up.

 

"I'm gonna leave you alone - let you make up your own mind.  I know what I feel - how I feel - but I ain't gonna let my heart get trashed anymore because you don’t.  Vernie, if we’re talking about what I think we’re talkin’ about, it’s going to mean some big changes – the kind I can’t force on ya.  You said you was happy before, and I don’t know if it was a lie or not.  But if it wasn’t, we gotta stop doing this," he headed for the door.  "’Cause I can't go through falling for you again and again."

 

He left her trembling in the middle of the kitchen.

 

"Hey, Len, Carmine's on the phone - Len?"  A door slammed.  "Ey, don't lock yourself in the bathroom!  Some of us've gotta use it!"

 

Laverne steadied herself before emerging, settling at the dining room table between Frank and Shirley.  Her grandmother pushed a large portion of lasagna onto her plate.

 

"What hap-"

 

She turned from Shirley's questions toward her Pop.  "What about your strategy?"

 

"Oh!  I was thinkin: we don't touch the pole."

 

"Good idea."

 

"So we build a tower around the pole: Your cousins Ricky and Antony on the bottom, those two clowns next, then me, then you and Shirley.  You're tall enough that, if she sits on your shoulders, she'll reach the top with no problem."

 

"I dunno, Pop - that's a lotta weight on your shoulders..."

 

"I been training, carrying your stepmother's bags all over Brooklyn," he smiled.  'I'll be okay, Muffin."

 

She smiled wanly.  "D'y know who our big competition is?"

 

"Yep - the Margraves - they're pushovers,"

 

She concentrated on her lasagna.

 

"And the Malachis."

 

Her blood ran cold with dread.  "The Malachis?"

 

"Yeah, they climb right before us."

 

Laverne shuddered.  It was pouring again, she had the decision of a lifetime to make on only a day’s worth of positive interaction, and now she had to climb up a greased pole in competition with the Malachis.   Some vacation this was turning out to be...

 

***

 

"Squiggy!!"

 

Andrew Squiggman, whose attentions had been momentarily divided by the argument in the kitchen, nearly dropped the phone at Carmine's insistent shouting.

 

"Sorry!  Geez, whattya want?"

 

"Shirley!  What's Shirley doing?"

 

"Eating lasagna!"

 

"Put her on!"

 

Squiggy looked over his shoulder, at the dining room table.  Squiggy made eye contact with Shirley and pointed at the phone.  Shirley gave Squiggy a horrified look - then Maggie butted her in the stomach, and Shirley began to pet her.

 

"Sorry, she's busy petting a dog."

 

"Dog?!  Who's got a dog?"

 

"I dunno - Lenny said something about Antony -"

 

"ANTONY!! WHO'S ANTONY?!"

 

"Laverne's cousin!  Geez, I may be devastatingly handsome, but that don't mean I'm stupid!"

 

"SHIRLEY'S GOING OUT WITH LAVERNE'S COUSIN ANTONY?!"

 

"No, she's going out with a plate of lasagna!  Geeze - I got dinner to eat, Carmine!"

 

"Save me a plate, Squig - I'm getting on the next bus to Brooklyn!"

 

"Well, it's gonna take you a whole day to get here - it'll all be cold by then."

 

But Squiggy's answer was a dial tone.