Summary: Five years after the series timeline's ended has ended; Laverne
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Disclaimer: Penny Marshall, et. al are proprietized by themselves; Laverne DeFazio, as well as any other Paramount c and TM character name, is C and TM Gary Marshall and Paramount Productions Inc. This piece of fanfiction is not intended to misrepresent actual events and bare no resemblence to any event that has ever occured in reality, past or present. It is not meant to disparraige the used character trademarks or used persons. No copyright infringement is intended, and the author is not making any money from the publication of thisr story.
Notes: Still on my sea legs here! Bear with me, folks from my other genere..Feed the author feedback?
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Laverne DeFazio flopped down on her couch. It was just another hazy, muggy California afternoon, and she was terminally bored.
Her eyes lit upon a cardboard box, sitting under a winter coat she didn't need any more, ready to be tucked away in an upstairs closet. Something motivated her to take it out and strew it's contents across the floor, spreading open a clean page in an album.
She felt...not sad, really, as she pasted together the albums she'd resisted putting together for years.
First, Richie Cunningham smiled up at her from his wedding pictures, tired but triumphant, Laurie Beth on his arm after a day of travail. She grinned at his National Guard Uniform, creasing at the elbow where his bride clutched him, wide-eyed.
It was hard to believe that the kid she and Shirley had occasionally palled around with was now a married father of four, with a career of his own.
Then, most tenderly, she spread apart the pages dedicated to Shirley's wedding. Laverne remembered fondly the day Shirley had become Mrs. Walter Meeny. It stung, just a bit, to remember her leaving so soon after the ceremony to follow Walter overseas. But time healed wounds.
No, not really. It didn't.
She still missed Shirley more than anything in the world; wished that she was still sleeping in the next bed, her head on Boo-Boo Kitty's lap. She wished that they were still working together, at Cowboy Bills, anywhere.
Still, as she smoothed the pictures onto the page, Shirley's marriage had brought her plenty of good things, both unselfishly good and selfishly good. And they talked, twice a week by phone, and Shirley never failed to send postcards when they traveled overseas. She smiled down at her best friend's happiness.
On the next page, next to a page of pictures of Richie's kids, she pasted her copy of Little Joanie Cunninham's wedding portrait. She, of all people, had beaten her down the aisle! It still made Laverne laugh, Remembering how Fonzie's doting on "Shortcake" and his pride at her grown-up elegance.
Then there were articles of her father's landslide electoral victory. She was definitely proud of her pop, who had, she joked, found a job doing what he was best at; yelling opinionatedly.
Then there were snapshots and playbills of Carmine's triumphant appearance in the chorus of "Hair" on Broadway. She was just as please by Carmine's success as she had been when she first got that mid-night call years ago; He had talent, and it was something she defiantly knew even when he was just dancing in their old apartment at Knapp Street.
Carmine's Broadway appearance had opened a flurry of activity that hadn't stopped for years.
First, The Fonz shocked everyone by tying the knot. It made more sense to Laverne now, the more that she thought about it. He had an adopted kid to take care of, being a teacher and co-owning Bronko's didn't leave him with a lot of social time. So Pinky Tuscadaro blew back into Millwaukee in 1966, this time retired from stock cars and stunts for good. A concussion finally did in the legendary Pinky; one more, her doctor said, and she would be impaired from the blow. It was human nature for Pinky and Fonz to find one another, become reacquainted, and get hot and heavy.
But this time, as far as Laverne could tell, Pinky had grown up since Fonz and Pinky had parted ways years before. She took an immediate liking to Fonzie's kid, showing some new-found maternal affection.
Laverne had been surprised when she went to Fonzie and Pinky's wedding and was told by more than one old high school classmate that they figured she and Fonzie would end up together. She laughed at that suggestion.
"C'Mon," She said to one of those girls, "Me an' Fonzie? Nahh." It simply wasn't possible because, even though she had had a crush on him at one point, even though he was an awfully good kisser, he just didn't have that certain thing that set off sparks between he and so many other women.
It was true. No goosebumps.
Laverne wondered if it was still foolish to keep looking for them, waiting for them to appear, through countless dates and a couple of semi-serious relationships. Even the Fonz couldn't move her "that way". She wanted someone to look at her the way Fonzie was looking at Pinky in their wedding pictures, smiles and tears in pink-colored chiffon.
On the next page came the biggest news, as far as she was concerned, of 1966; the birth of her's (And Mrs. Babbish's) namesake(s), Laverne Edna Meeny. She had flown all the way to a ward in Germany for the girl's birth, against the wishes of "Dr. Walter".
Despite Shirley's complete happiness, Laverne still saw her best friend's husband as "Dr. Walter". He was the most boring, ordinary, average man she'd ever met in her life. There was no life in him, no "zing" she could see. But he made Shirley happy, so Laverne pretended tolerance for him.
By that year, war protests were on. California was a hot bed for hippies, and though Laverne believed in most of their causes, she stayed away from most of the movement. That was the year her father ran for the California Representative seat, on the Independent Ticket, and won it. Wouldn't do, to have his daughter be a hippy. He and Edna had gotten back together, happier and united by his political goals.
The war was effecting everything around her by the next year; her father was strongly in favor of the war (another display of those traditional, macho, Italian values he believed in so strongly), she was strongly against it, but stayed away from the movement. In her father's absence she was the main engine behind Cowboy Bills', and, through relatives, the Pizza Bowl; it occupied most of her time.
That year, Lenny and Squiggy were drafted into the army. She was concerned (way too concerned, Shirley joked from across the ocean) about them through all their weeks of basic training, and was relieved when they were stationed in Oregon.
She laughed at the way-too-serious portraits they had taken; Lenny's still held a hint of his gentle smirk. Squiggy was biting his lip trying not to laugh in his.
But each of them was doing OK; Squiggy had ended up as a mess hall chef.
Lenny, after completing basic training, managed to get a student deferral, of all things, going to a music college in Boston. He worked hard, and she got a weekly postcard from him, too. They sat, held together by a rubber band in her bedroom. She didn't know why she didn't just throw them away after answering with letters.
Carmine had burned his draft card and was still in New York; along with a playbill for his appearance in the chorus of "Godspell", he sent her a tiny, charred bit of it. To keep her spunk up, he said.
All of these memories; Lavene felt a bit lonely as she closed the album and laid it on her coffee table. The old gang was gone; scattered around. She was lonlier than any of them. All she had left was.
"Rhonda's here!"
Rhonda, who still entered unannounced. Apparently she'd also helped herself to a sandwhich and milk while Laverne sat reminiscing. At least Squiggy used to bellow out a friendly "Hel-lo!" as he was letting himself in. Laverne stood up and waved her hand. "Hey, Rhonda."
The buxom actress made her way from the patio to stand smiling in front of her. "Rhonda has some news!" She giggled.
Laverne laughed, "As long as yer not getting' married, too."
Rhonda's smile dissolved; she hid her left hand behind her; "Rhonda doesn't think you should see this, then," She said, backing away from Laverne.
Laverne sighed, "Not you, too, Rhonda?"
Rhonda nodded her head happily, nearly poking her fingers up Laverne's nose in her excitement, "Twenty Karats! Dick really came through."
Laverne didn't like Dick Golanda, Rhonda's director/now-fiancee boyfriend, either. He was a short, bearded, chubby man, who had a salacious air. That wasn't surprising; she'd heard rumors about the kind of films he directed...
"Rhonda's name will be Rhonda Golanda! Won't that be scrumptious up on the big screen.." She said dreamily.
"Yeah...Rhonda, Shirley's supposed ta call me tonight, so I'll give her yer news. But ya can't be here when she calls."
"Why not?" Rhonda pouted.
"Because....Well, I don't listen to your calls to Dick."
Rhonda sighed, "Rhonda understands." She smiled, trying to warm up the room, "Now that Rhonda's set up, maybe she can get an actor for you!"
"That's it! Out!" Laverne ordered, almost pushing the befuddled actress out the door.
The phone rang right after Rhonda's exit, and Laverne rushed to the phone and picked it up.
"Will you accept a collect call from Mrs. Walter Meeny?" Laverne almost said no out of instinct, still not used to connecting Shirley with that name. "Yeah." She said. It was customary for Shirley to call..but not collect. Something was wrong.
She could tell by the slight quiver in Shirley's voice as she answered,
"Laverne?" She said.
"Shirl? Hey Shirl," Laverne grinned to the wall.
"Oh, Vernie," She sighed.
"What's wrong?" Laverne asked.
"Can you come? Can you come to New York right away?"
Laverne was seized with panic, "What's wrong? Is it Veene?" Veene was Shirley's daughter's family nickname.
"Veene's fine. It's her father."
A thousand thoughts ran through Laverne's mind at once, "He's not...he didn't..."
"Laverne," Shirley sobbed, "Walter's been sent to Vietnam!"