Dance Me To The Ends Of The Earth

RATING: PG
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NOTES: I've always wanted to flesh out Edna's character a bit; if there are any historical errors, chalk it up to my imagination ;-)
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SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Edna ruminates over her life as she counsels Laverne after a bad date

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She always comes to me with her problems; she thinks I can solve them easily. And I'd like to think I can help her out, but sometimes her questions are just too much.

Seldomly, Laverne comes to me and worries about the number of guys she's gone through; something about her own picky nature reflects in mine, so we understand each other. When Shirley's not around, I'm her confidant. Late one night, After a bad date, she came to my apartment dripping of mascara and shaking. I made her tea.

"Shirl's not home," She explained herself glumly, "I don't wanna be alone in the appartment."

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded, "I just don't wanna be by myself." She sniffled.

I sighed, "You sure look upset, though."

She shook her head, "It's just anotha bad date and anotha bad relationship. At least I can pick 'em," She snickered and rubbed at her shoulders. Then a wicked idea seemed to slink through her mind "How many times HAVE you been married, Mrs. Babbish?"

She's like my daughter, so I can't just tell her it's not her business. In some ways, it is; I'm dating her father. I close my eyes and try to remember...

"My first boyfriend, his name was William," I smile as I recall; sandy hair, nice height, big smile... "I married him so that we could...do a little more than neck." I hear Laverne chortle; kids have it so much easier nowadays; no guilty pressure on them to go only yay far. "Vaudeville was screaming out to the both of us, and there wasn't much you could do about it in Madison."

"Was that one of yer good marriages?"

I shook my head, "We didn't exactly hit it off right away with the stage crowds, and he started taking it out on me after we reached OshKosh. Eventually he was arrested for bootlegging and they granted me an uncontested divorce."

"Then what happened?" She asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Hmm..well, after that I moved to Atlanta; the hoofing scene was better then during the depression," I chuckled, "And after a month I met a lovely man with a French accent named Pierre," Pierre, who could melt caramel with that voice of his, "We hit it off right away and were at a Justice of The Peace's place by the end of the week."

"Pierre..." She savored that name dreamily, "He sounds so classy"

"For a man who loved his mother way too much, he was." I chuckled. "Anyway, it was Pierre that took me traveling for the first time; with him, I saw Trinidad, Budapest, and the Upper Nile." I picked at the material of my sweater absently, "Then he saw our cabana boy and decided my legs were too long. Sent me back to Atlanta without a dime. That's when I moved to Texas."

"Texas?" She was enraptured.

"I needed a change of scenery. Besides, I wasn't about to tell Pierre's mother what had happened to him! In Texas, I met Clint at a social function."

"Social function?"

I batted my lashes, "Widow's mixer," I laughed, "Spent the whole night telling him how much I wanted to get back onstage, how much I missed dancing and singing for people. Two days later, I was married to him and chopping up ribs for a barbecue." I snorted, "He was the one who established us in Milwaukee; back then, the town was small and fashionable, if you can believe that. Clint wasn't too bad of a guy. I can't say too many bad things about him; he's Anita's father."

Anita's one of my five kids, I talk about them enough, so I'm not surprised by Laverne's instant recognition.

"So, what was wrong with Clint?"

"Oh, it wasn't really his fault," I said lazily, "The depression was coming to an end, Vaudeville was dying out and I got resentful because he'd kept me tied down for too long." I thought for a moment, "Let me see; after that, I was so confused that I got into a whole series of bad relationships. Let's see; there was Todd the stenographer, who's Tricia's father; he was an alcoholic; then Roger; Roger was an attorney."

"Aww, he took ya to the cleaners, huh?"

I laughed, then sipped my tea, "Remember the reversible wedding gown I showed you and Shirley before you went on that 'honeymoon' to the Hotel Fister?" She nodded, "That was Roger's idea."

She snorted in derisive laughter, "Who else?"

"Well, 1944 was pretty much a blur for me; I married Tedd, Ed, and Red, but I'll be darned if I can't tell them apart from each other." Laverne snickered, "They weren't too memorable. Red gave me Robert and Amy; I remember getting writer's cramp from signing teeny, tiny child support checks every month." My sarcasm doesn't go over Laverne's head.

"Ya still got a few more marriages to tell me about, right?"

I nodded, "Two months in 1945 were swallowed up by a guy named Andy; He was a newspaperman, and he's Laura's father." I sighed, "He was wrapped up in his career, but he has custody of them." I thought for a moment, "Then there was my big game hunter; another attempt to revive my wild side. That didn't last long, you know why." Laverne's face puckered in distaste, recalling my ex-husband's behavior and how it nearly broke our relationship up. "And, last but not least, there was Kevin Babbish."

"He's the one that made ya a widdow, right?" She asked sympathetically.

I nodded, sadness casting a pall over the room, "He was a lovely man; too young to die, too. You know he's the only one who's name I ever kept? And he's the guy who got me interested in renting and ownership, so you have him to thank for my being your landlady." I smiled fondly, "You know, I went from a billionaire to a building manager in one year, but I couldn't have cared less. You've gotta follow your heart, Laverne, no matter how hard that is sometimes."

"That reminds me of another question," Laverne piped up slyly, "What's yer maiden name?"

I would've told her the answer to that one, too, but then I caught sight of the clock just beyond her head, "I'll leave that story for another time."

"Aww!" Laverne pouted childishly, "Ya promised you'd answer any of my questions," She pointed out.

"Any time, Laverne. As long as it's not past one in the morning." I said, archly.

She slapped her own forehead, "Shirl's gonna be worried sick about me." Standing up and leaving, she added, "Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Babbish." With a charming smile.

I let her out, taking a short moment to take our dishes and toss them into the sink. My face glowed back at me in the bright silver of the teacup handles.

All of us, I think , struggle with relationships for a reason. My reason I haven't even figured out; I just know that love's pretty troublesome for me.

But when I think about falling in love, I remember a painting I saw, once called 'Dance Me To The End Of The Earth'; if you ever see it, you'll know it by the hundreds of anonymous women in evening gowns, waltzing with anonymous men in tuxedo jackets on a beach They're dancing away into a bank of fog, out into eternity together. I always thought of that painting as a perfect description of what I think love is, or what it ought to be.

I guess a part of me's still looking for eternity, though the older I get, the more elusive it feels.

When the phone rings, and it's Frank, I smile to myself, "You ready to go dancin'?"

"Frank, it's two in the morning!"

"What, You forgettin' that I got a place that's open all night?"

"Geez, the businesses around the Pizza Bowl are gonna start complaining soon if we keep this up."

"Who said sayin' anyin' about the Pizza Bowl? What's wrong wit my place?"

"I'll bring the Tony Bennet," I smile.

And I'm thinking Dance me to the end of the earth, Frank