SERIES: Always About You
UNIVERSE: Always...
AUTHOR: Missy
EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com
PART: 1 of 1
RATING: PG-13 (Adult thematic material, language
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; R/S; F/E
DISTRIBUTION: To Myself 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
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CATEGORY: Romance
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE:
SEQUEL TO: Ever After, Always A Bridesmaid, Always Prepared,
Always a Mess, Always Apologize First, Always a Challenge, Always Too Much Lasagna
And Always There For You. Ninth in this continuity.
Spoilers For: the entire universe, I Do, I Don't.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: The results of Rhonda's biopsy come in, which
may force Shirley to change her moving plans and Lenny and Laverne to delay
their wedding. But they all have a
surprise coming...
***
Shirley Ragusa flinched as an errant pea rolled from her
freshly washed porcelain serving dish and onto the skirt of her new pink peasant
dress. She caught it before it could
roll out of its apron-like slope, then flicked the little green pod into the
trash and turned back to her serving tureen, successfully concluding the
process of giving herself another helping.
Suddenly, she heard Carmine's muffled snickering and looked
up through the candlelight to see him grinning at her. Automatically she grinned back, and just as reactionarialy his smile melted into something more tender.
"How's dinner? I
tried to cut all of the burned parts off of the chops and I put a little extra
milk into the potatoes - they're not too soupy?" She felt a rush of shame, knowing she'd
failed the Betty Crocker test outright when the biscuits had been deemed too
hard to be edible and given as gifts to the alley cats outside their
window. Shirley reasoned to herself that
the least she could do was keep Carmine well-fed and their currently meager possessions
well managed, now that her last day at Bardwells' had
been served. Instead their situation had
her preoccupied, and she was unable to pretend for a moment she was June
Cleaver.
"It's good, Shirley," he said, crunching on a
small piece of pork chop -the section that hadn't been burned to black and
trimmed away.
"Don't flatter me!" But Shirley smiled, basking in
the warmth of his praise. "I need
to know what I'm doing wrong or I'll never be able to cook well."
"You could never do anything wrong," Carmine
insisted, drinking down his quickly warming bottle of Shotz, "if it doesn’t
make me throw up, I'd call it good cooking."
"Such high praise from a gourmand!" she laughed,
eating the last bit of peas on her plate.
Carmine's alphabetical progress across the plate engaged her for awhile,
but soon Shirley's eyes drifted toward the telephone and the westernmost wall.
The boys' appartment,
where Rhonda had been spending a lot of her time in the last three days.
It had been that long since Shirley, Lenny and Laverne had
taken Rhonda home from her biopsy, and they had been painful hours, the anxiety
chewing at her mind ceaselessly like rats in a frenzy. Even though Carmine knew - had known since
the night Laverne had in turn told Shirley about the possibility of Rhonda's
cancer - the pressure of keeping the secret from Squiggy had been a heavier
burden than she imagined. She had eaten
little this worried state of mind, though Carmine had encouraged her to consume
her usual share of food - even now Shirley picked away at the rest of the
suddenly unappetizing meal she'd worked all afternoon to prepare. She decided firmly that she'd had enough and
scraped her dish into
the wastebasket - what they hadn't touched was only fit to make a good meal for
the strays.
"Here," Carmine said, pushing his plate toward
her, "have some of my potatoes."
"I'm full."
"You barely touched your chops," Carmine
scolded.
"You sound like your mother," Shirley smiled - but
this time it wasn't a true, easy one, and a visible darkness showed in her
eyes.
Carmine ignored that tease.
"Come here," he urged, tossing his napkin onto the table and
holding out his arms. Not hesitating
once, Shirley pushed out her chair and walked over to him, sitting on his lap
and placing her cheek against his shoulder.
"I wish I knew," she said. "It's the not knowing that
hurts."
"Imagine how Rhonda feels..." Carmine said, but
his tone wasn't reprimanding - and she felt his body tense as soon as the words
left his mouth, self-recriminating.
She jerked her head from his shoulder. "Goodness, listen to me! I'm making it all about myself, and I'm not
the one who could be..." She couldn't bring herself to say 'dying'.
"It's natural, Shirl. People do that all the time."
"I think that's why I'm upset. It's my job to make everything okay, and this
time I can't." A long-held
sentiment, and the first time she'd said it out loud.
"No, baby," he said, rubbing her back. "It's your job to never give up. Without you, I wouldn't know how to keep
going."
She looked into the dark fathoms of his eyes, knowing he
still saw her as Shirley The Ever-Hopeful, Shirley the
Keeper of High Hopes. Even at her
lowest, he thought she was an angel.
"Thank you," she said simply, pressing a kiss to his lips, and
upon breaking it added, "I've felt so inhuman for the past three
days!"
At those words, the front door burst open and she tumbled
from Carmine's knee. That Squiggy didn't
notice their intimate pose and didn't even say 'hello' caused an already
serious atmosphere to become grave.
"Rhonda wants you," he said, in a tone Shirley
didn't recognize. "The doctor
called."
Stiffly, Shirley rose to her feet, feeling some part of the
burden rise from her shoulders. Squiggy
knew - Rhonda had told him. The secret
was no longer hers to hold. In a state
of relief she moved with Carmine to meet Squiggy and together they walked to
Rhonda's apartment, where the door was wide open.
The blonde sat on her bright pink couch, her head on
Laverne's shoulder as she rocked the actresses' weeping form back and
forth. Lenny sat beside them, rubbing
Laverne's back and staring silently ahead, his eyes rimmed with red rings after
an apparent attack of tears. Shirley
didn't need to be told the answer to the question once tormenting her, and
instead opened her arms and took them each in turn to her embrace.
***
Five Days Later
***
"Okay, that'll be fifty cents."
The child sucking on the wooden paddle from his Hoodsie Cup smiled before reaching up and placing a sticky
half-dollar in Lenny's palm.
"Eww...thanks." he wiped
his sticky palm against his jeans as the kid scampered back to his
playmates. Lenny watched the kid go with
a smile on his face, remembering his own childhood, which so rarely contained
the simple pleasure of ice cream. He
looked down to ring open the cash register, dumping the coin inside and pushing
the drawer closed. It wasn't a bad haul
for the past two days thus far - fifty bucks and it had just hit five. If he got to the soccer field in
Where was that breeze coming from? Had he left the door open?
"Surprise!"
Lenny whirled around in the sudden, tight embrace of his fiancée,
nearly pulling them both to the floor with his frantic gyrations. "Vernie!"
he yelped out, and then looked her up and down.
She wore a charcoal gray suit jacket, white blouse, mid-shin-length red
skirt and black pumps with opaque stockings, her hair tied up in a bun. "What happened to you?" he blurted
out, earning him a punch on the shoulder.
"I was on an interview," she explained, with a
little sigh. "Remember? I told you this morning I'm going in for
inventory at Bardwells after hours? And since I didn't have to be in this morning
I went out on a couple of interviews a headhunter found for me?" He looked frightened. "I already told you - these are the good
kind of headhunter who don't boil people in oil."
Distracted by her proclaiming, Lenny was left to wrack his
brain desperately. "No," he
finally admitted.
"Len, do you ever listen when I talk?"
He gave her a horrified look. "YEAH! I like listening to you, Vernie,"
he insisted. She visibly showed
disbelief and he took her by the shoulders, gently steering her over to the passenger
side seat of the truck. "How did
your interviews go?"
"I dunno," she admitted,
taking her hair down from the bun and fluffing it out. "I always stink at that part...Len,
watch and listen at the same time," she ordered. He had been listening to her with his eyes
closed.
"I dunno if I can."
"Just remember the little engine, Len - if you think
you can, you can." He opened both eyes
extra-wide and tilted his ears toward her.
"Anyway, it ain't like the jobs are any different from the one at Bardwells. It's just
more line work - only instead of
wrapping or bottlecaping, I'd be packing chocolate at
Sees, capping cola for Coke, or loading boxes to ship at Sears..."
"You'd work for Coca Cola?" Lenny gaped.
"Not for free," she smirked, but the smile faded
away. "I'm startin'
to feel like I was born to stand next to a conveyor belt all day," she
complained.
"You're good at standing," Lenny insisted gently,
and with sincerity.
She shook her head.
"I feel like I'm stuck. I
can't type fast or file well, so I can't work in an office. I stink at school - college, forget about it - who could afford
that? It looks like it'll be line work
until I croak."
"You sayin' I can't take care
of you?" he whined. "I always
thought you'd quit working when we got married and I'd..."
"...take care of me." she pressed her palm
to his mouth. "I'm not sayin' you can't.
I'm saying I don't want you to."
She must have seen the panic in his eyes, because she pressed her palms
to his shoulders. "I'm so tired of
being pushed around by my bosses, Len.
Just one time, I wanna be in control of my own life when it comes to
work..."
"Hey," he soothed, embracing her. "This ain't about the wedding, is
it?"
She stiffened in his arms.
"Why do you think every time I feel stuck, it's about the
wedding?"
Lenny smirked humorlessly.
"'Cause we ain't in control of that, either. And every time Rhonda brings it up, you start
chewing your nails."
She was chewing her nails - and had apparently been unaware
of it. She pulled her hand away from her
mouth and sighed. "I tell you I
went dress shopping with Rhonda and Shirl?"
"Nope."
"Yeah - everything either made my butt look big or my
boobs look too small." She buried
her face in his chest and grumbled, smearing his Raiders tee shirt with
mascara. "I think I might have to
marry you naked." He bit his palm, giving her a laugh. "Gee, you shouldn't've
laughed - I was serious."
Lenny's mind momentarily spaced out at the idea of Laverne
marching down the aisle naked, but he snapped back to reality and faced down
the disorganized and yet functional progress their wedding preparations were
taking.
To their mutual surprise, Rhonda had taken an increased
interest in their nuptials - mostly it seemed to take her mind off of the
side-effects of her radiation therapy, which at this point to only brought her nausea and exhaustion. Lenny recalled that Squiggy had taken her to
her latest treatment that day, the second and expected to be the last for the
next two weeks, then they would resume, once a week for the following five
weeks. After that, everything hinged on
her tests - if they cancer was cured, there would be no delay in their plans. If they came back positive, then Rhonda might
require a mastectomy and chemotherapy - her worst nightmare.
Lenny made himself think of the wedding once more - focusing
on Rhonda would make him upset, which would make Laverne upset and thus they
would both end up upsetting Rhonda when they saw her later. Between the four of them - Shirley included -
they had only managed to agree on an October 25th wedding date - three days
before the feast of Saint Jude and Lenny's birthday - and a photographer - the
entire wedding party bringing their own cameras, plus one "official" Polaroid
camera. All the other arrangements hung
in the air; he and Laverne had been searching for a Catholic parish at which to
take pre cana, unable to
step foot into Saint Michaels' because it was Frank's church. They had made arrangements to visit two of
them that weekend, and if they didn't find shelter Lenny vowed to either make
the choice by flipping a coin or drive until he saw the bright lights of
"Len," Laverne muttered, "I'm up here."
When had he begun staring blankly at her cleavage? He mustered a sheepish smile. "Sorry."
"S'Ok. Not like you can see them." Lenny chuckled, which earned him a tiny smile
from Laverne. "You
thinking about the honeymoon?"
He felt goosebumps spread over his
upper arms at the very thought. There was more money they didn't have, and he
would settle gladly for a week in bed with cool sheets lying naked between
Laverne's thighs. The idea made his
jeans incredibly tight and he groaned.
"You are thinking about the honeymoon..." she
teased, her hand finding a comfortable place on his right thigh. He jerked upward, his forehead bashing
against the roof of the truck. "Geez..." she took him into her arms and made a few
comforting murmurs deep in her throat, kissing the little red mark the impact
had made. "Don't do that every time
I touch you," she instructed - he did have a tendency to leap and wince at
the lightest touch of her hand. "you'll end up in a neck brace and I'll be a virgin for the
rest of my life."
Lenny grimaced at those last words, for she spoke the still-valid
truth about her cherry. Since the night
she had nearly scratched the skin off of his cock trying to get a rubber on,
the opportunity for alone time had been thwarted by exhaustion. For the past week, they had slept spooned
together in defiance of the heat and woken with skin adhered by sweat which
they were forced to peeled apart at whatever painful cost before sharing an ice-cold shower. Each
night passed, and before they slept they fooled around in the usual way, which
seemed to please her and definitely pleased him. He had bought a new rubber to replace the one
she'd ripped, but not one of those nights seemed like the right time for the
ultimate 'it'.
"That the only thing you own that don't have an L on
it?" He blurted out, trying
desperately to change the subject.
She showed no distress at the randomness of his mind. "Pretty much," she leaned back in
the chair, her hand coming to rest comfortably and
not-at-all-intentionally-incitingly upon his thigh one more time. This time he didn't jump, but his muscles
tensed. "Gimmie a little good news. Did you call Emmy for your certificates?"
Lenny nodded - while Laverne had possession of both her
confirmation certificate and her baptismal record, kept in pristine lamination
by Shirley, Lenny had left everything but his birth certificate and driver's
license behind for safekeeping with his
sister back in Milwaukee. "I wired
her. It's cheaper that way."
She reached over to stroke his chin with her other
hand. "Smart. You're always thinking..."
He pulled away from her.
"Don't tease me!"
"I was serious, Len." She drew him closer again.
"Really?" he muttered against her mouth.
"Really really."
His kiss cut off further questioning, his warm palm falling
to her lap and caressing her cool outer thigh and steamy inner thigh the way
she was doing to his.
He closed his eyes at her gentle caress, but then he heard
the rasp of a zipper being lowered. He
opened them just in time to see Laverne let go of his fly and unbutton her
jacket.
He ripped his mouth away from hers. "Vernie!" he panicked. "We can't!"
"Why not?"
"We're in a park."
"So?" the last button of her jacket gave.
"There are kids everywhere!"
"They can't see in here..." She pressed her lips
against his, using her persuasive powers to trick him into relaxing.
"Hey, mister!"
Lenny's arms were at his side and his mouth detached from
Laverne's in one ungainly movement - she yelped and her own hands were off of
him and at her side in a move that reminded him of the old days, when she found
him sort-of-repulsive. The voice piping
for his attention belonged to a blond haired boy of around twelve, wearing a
bright paisley shirt and jeans, hands expectant at his hips. Lenny poked his head out of the window and grimaced
as the sun nearly blinded him, trying to keep his hips out of view.
"How much for a Nutty Buddy?"
the kid asked, whiny and self-indulgent in tone.
Lenny forced his features into a professional smile. "Fifty cents." He heard Laverne shuffling herself into a
more sexually neutral position, her hands rebuttoning
the suit jacket as he ducked back inside to unliberate
his freezer of a Nutty Buddy, discreetly zipping his fly up when he bent over
the bin. He caught sight of her pained
smile, and got a look at the boys' expression of confusion as the strange woman
smiled at him. Lenny handed the bar to
the boy, and another sticky half-dollar waited for him attached to an eager,
smiling face. It seemed that the
business of earning a living was expected to run smoothly and efficiently as a
printing press, moving ever onward when the button wasn't pressed to stop it -
no matter the drama of humanity.
"Where are you going?" Laverne asked, unbuttoning
her suit jacket.
"The soccer field in
"Do you mind if I hang out with you and help? When you're done we can grab dinner and go
home for a nap - they don't need me until eleven..."
"You think I'd mind?" he wondered, giving her a
silly look. Why would she ever think he
would mind?
"Nope - but asking's
nice," she smiled, stretching backward in the seat and cracking her
bones.
He watched her body and felt a sweet longing in his
own. Later,
he reminded himself. Self-denial had
never been Lenny Kosnowski's forte, but he would do anything for his woman, and
he wasn't going to give in to his own wants and hurt Laverne. There would be a time for them, he understood
as the key turned in the ignition, and this wasn't it.
***
"I don't believe we're having this conversation."
Shirley chewed her lower lip as she eavesdropped on
Carmine's telephone call. Mister
Donaldson had rung him at
past three that afternoon, and now it was nearly eight at night
and no sense of reconciliation seemed to exist.
The discussion circled around viciously, like a shark in a tank.
"No...she's one of our closest
friends...she has cancer, how the...no, I know you couldn't hold the
auditions...I'm asking you to...damn it!
No, I know this is the opportunity of a lifetime...money was never that
important...she could die...it's...no, we don't know for sure...she's not my
wife's best friend...she's our friend...a family friend, yes..." At least Carmine wouldn't have to pay for the
charges for such a frustrating conversation.
Picking up Boo Boo Kitty, Shirley
looked into the smooth green of the cat's eyes.
Ever placid and forgiving, she felt a sense of security in the weighted
bulk of her stuffed animal's being while knowing that there would be no real
question of what might happen once Carmine hung up. The only unknown lay in her strength - did
she have the courage to face an unplanned future, or would she give in to her
own need to advance in society and cling to what she had won?
"No...I'll think about it....I have to talk to my
wife...I'll call you back...bye."
Carmine slammed the phone down, then kicked the
crate they used in want of an end table, muttering an Italian variation on the
word motherfucker.
"Just swear in English, Carmine. I know what that means."
He had the grace to blush.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah - I learned it from Laverne." Carmine crossed the room and sat down beside
her, bouncing the entire bed under his squat weight.
With not an ounce of his typical charisma, Carmine delivered
the news to her bluntly. "The
landlord won't hold it for us."
Her stomach fluttered.
"Do you still need me to cosign the lease?"
He shook his head.
"I don't think so. He says
they need us to be there in two days to occupy the unit or they can legally
start showing it to other people."
Shirley buried her face against his shoulder. "So we have to go..."
"There'll be other apartments, Shirl...we'll
just tell Arnie to forget about it and have
everything sent back from storage. It'll
cost an arm and a leg, but it's Arnie's arms and
legs..."
"There'll never be another Camelot for you,"
Shirley murmured.
"Hundreds of shows play in
"This is a major opportunity, Carmine. You'll never have this kind again."
"Well, yeah," Carmine grunted. "But Rhonda needs us."
Shirley smiled waveringly.
"She needs me to nurse her, but she'd understand if you left."
Carmine's face turned a shade paler beneath his tan. "You telling me I
should go there without you?"
She managed a nod.
"Not for very long - until we know for sure about Rhonda's
condition. And Laverne and Lenny need me
to help plan the wedding. Poor Laverne's
at her wit's end flying through this solo, and Lenny barely knows the
difference between a cummerbund and a cucumber.
When everything's settled, you can fly down for the wedding and then we
can fly up to
He shook his head, the frustration of speaking to Arnie Donaldson still evident in his voice. "I wanna live with you, damnit! I didn't
spend every Saturday night in the shower chattering my teeth out to end up in a
long-distance marriage. And did you
forget I'm friends with Rhonda, too?"
"But this is the best chance you've ever had at a
starring role in a major city. If anyone
can understand ambition like that, it's Rhonda." She rested her cheek against his back. "Carmine, if you don't get on that bus
tomorrow, will you regret it twenty years from now?" He remained silent. "You would. And you know you would."
"Where are you going to live?" he asked the
wall. "Tonight's our last night,
remember?
She sighed. "I
think...I don't believe I'm suggesting this...I think I could stay in the boy's
apartment."
Carmine stared at her dumbfoundedly. "You want to live with Lenny and
Squiggy?"
"It's not really their place anymore - Lenny's
practically living with Laverne, and they'll be moving into our - her - apartment
when they're married. Squiggy spends all
of his time in Rhonda's unit, so technically they've already moved out - it's
just that neither of them have faced it yet.
I don't take up much room, and I could get my bed back from
Laverne. I would even take a sleeping
bag on the floor..."
"No! I'm not
going to let you sleep on their floor - have you ever seen it in
daylight?"
"I know how to clean, Carmine," she insisted.
"What about money?"
"I'll get a job waitressing."
"Shirley! Don't
you remember Dead Lazlo's place?"
"Yes, but I also remember the Pizza Bowl and Cowboy
Bills. I'm a perfectly competent
waitress when I have decent fellow waiters," she reminded him.
"It takes two salaries to keep that place
running..."
"Two Lenny and Squiggy-sized salaries," Shirley
reminded him. "Besides, it's
only..."
"I know it's only temporary," Carmine sighed. She saw him waver and finally crack. "I'll help out. I'll send as much of my checks home as I can
manage..."
That was impossible, especially in
"I don't care.
I'd rather live on ramen noodles in a hole in the wall and have you
walking around in diamonds!"
She shook her head.
There it was again - that image of her as Saint Shirley, bedecked in
clouds..."And nothing else?" she teased, reaching behind her and
unbuttoning her dress. She felt
relieved, relaxed and thought that everything was settled at last. Their course seemed incredibly sensible, and
Shirley felt that she could bear living out of a suitcase with only a bed and
crates filling up the empty space, if she could have this one perfect, unblemished
night with Carmine..
How had they both ended up naked? He seemed to have blinked away her clothing,
like that genie from TV. His hands on
her body were playful this time, slow, as if trying to memorize her slight
curves. It might be a month before they
could do this again, and he seemed to want every crevice to linger in his
mind...then there was no separation, no individuality...she didn't speak,
didn't cry or call or rebuke - there seemed no need for language at such a
time.
Hours and days ticked past into months as they lay locked in
one another's embrace, his cock knocking against her diaphragm, deeper inside
of her than ever before, moans uniting with sighs, grunts and prayers. She came before she thought to breathe,
feeling him scald her within, leaving behind sensation and memory for her to
treasure until they could meet again.
They slept too early, aware that at six he must leave.
***
The following day - a Sunday so blisteringly hot that she
wore her shortest and lightest dress and no stockings - she and Lenny and
Laverne and Squiggy and Rhonda put Carmine on a train to
"I'll call every day until everything gets
settled," he whispered in her ear, aware of Shirley's tears and his own
wavering voice.
"You can't afford that," she scolded.
"I'll reverse the charges," he teased. Then, like a soldier in a World War II telefilm,
he doffed his "Big Ragoo"
jacket and waved it over his head, causing Lenny and Squiggy to shout and clap
as if they were witnessing a great rodeo.
Laverne and a sickly and yet untouchably strong-looking Rhonda held each
other up, the events of the past week making any sort of goodbye a
difficulty. Carmine didn't have the
luxury of self-denial, and so he picked Shirley from the ground and kissed her
until her cheeks suffused with blood, making her glow under the hazy morning
sun. He let her go and ducked inside as
the porter closed the door behind him.
Shirley chased the train to the end of the line, where
Laverne caught her and pulled her back up onto the platform.
"Don't get squished, Shirl. Carmine would hate havin'
to keep you in a hatbox," Lenny snorted.
Shirley straightened her dress. "Leonard, I'm not trying to flatten
myself. I simply..."
"...Forgot you was on the train tracks," Lenny
replied, as another train whistled to a stop where she had been standing
seconds before.
"Do you need a ride?" Laverne interrupted.
"I'm takin' Rhonda to the Tar
Pits," Squiggy said, "you can come with us
and scare away the flies..."
Shirley's glare shut him up.
"I think I'll walk, Andrew."
"I wish you'd come with us to the church, Shirl," Laverne said, her voice trembling.
"Vernie, you'll do just
fine," she said. "Even without
Leonard's records, you're a nice, handsome young couple, and churches need as
many hip, young parishioners as they can get.
Why wouldn't they want to marry you?"
"Us, hip?" Laverne snorted.
"Speakin' of hips, me and
Laverne better hotfoot it to Saint Francis' before morning mass starts."
That nonsensical uttering somehow made Shirley feel lonelier. "I'll see you later. Maybe we can have breakfast?"
"Sure, we'll pick you up at Laurel Vista." Laverne said, taking Lenny's hand and
swinging her purse with every step as they walked away. As a couple, they both looked ludicrously
uncomfortable in their fancy Sunday clothing but wore the day with some sort of
unearthly ease.
"All right..." she said to the nothingness.
"And you sure you don't want to come with us to the
pits?" Squiggy asked.
"Yes, Andrew."
She secretly felt that it would be best for Rhonda and Squiggy to spend
more time together alone, while there was still time left to make good
memories, and now that Rhonda's car was out of the shop they could travel in
style.
"You choose, you lose," Squiggy shrugged, taking
Rhonda by the hand and leading her away.
Much later, Shirley pulled herself together and walked the short
distance back to the Laurel Vista building.
It was a lonely time.
Used to having Carmine or Laverne at her side, Shirley felt somewhat
isolated as she drifted through downtown, keeping her eyes peeled for help
wanted signs. She noticed one at a diner
named Lou's and decided to grab the position, but the door was locked and a
sign informed her they would be opening at eight - two hours from now, Mickey
Mouse told her. Her feet pained her, but
Shirley didn't stop until, at last, Laurel Vista welcomed her in its empty
confines and she collapsed. Sweaty but exhausted, she laid herself down onto
Laverne's couch. Shirley had a few hours
at least before Lenny and Laverne would return to collect her, and sleep felt
like a reasonable response to such an early rising...
A banging came from down the hall, startling her out of her
light dozing. "Lenny!" shouted
a familiar feminine voice, her voice echoing through the air. Shirley gasped, pulling on her shoes.
"Who the hell is that?" She wondered, the voice ringing a bell but
not providing her a face, then winced at her own choice of language. To the tune of the endless shouting, she
rushed to the door of the apartment, then opened it.
Before Lenny and Squiggy's apartment stood a tall blonde
woman in a housedress, her hair done in a heavily sprayed Marlo
Thomas-esque flip held back by a blue headband. Long eyelashes were spiky with tears, bare
shoulders shaking as she wept, her face hidden against the door.
"It's okay, mamma," a small child no older than
eight said from beside her. His blond
hair and blue eyes marked her as a near relative to the sobbing woman.
"I'm sorry," Shirley said, strongly but with
enough consideration as to not frighten the visitor, "Lenny isn't home
right now. He's off on his rou..." and trailed off as the woman turned
her face toward the sound of the intruding voice.
The visitor squinted, which made her look nearly as young as
the boy at her side.
"Shirley?"
Her heart nearly stopped from the surprise as she recognized
the woman beneath the racoonish eyeliner.
"Emmaline."
THE END
SOUNDTRACK:
1: Ode to Billie Joe - Bobbie Gentry
2: Summer In The City- The Lovin' Spoonfuls
3: Devoted To You - The Everly
Brothers
4: Anything You Need - Nanci
Griffith
5: Hello, It's Me - Todd Rundgren