Won't You Love Me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1951

Ages: 34 and 25

"Hey, Paul! I finally got them to make those changes they've been needing to make on my character!" Jerry's voice is ecstatic on the other end of the phone, and Dean chuckles.

"Good for you, Kid." He doesn't need to ask what changes were made; he knows Jerry would tell him even if Dean asked him not to.

"I just knew the guy I'm playing was too . . . one-sided, ya know? He's all moron and no heart. I got them to accept the backstory for him so that the audience can really identify with him. You know, the way you do when you watch Chaplain in "The Circus", and how much . . . how much pathos there was? That's what I want to be like . . . " Jerry's voice trails off.

"That's great, Jer—" Dean drawls, only to be interrupted by a beep on the phone signalling there's someone else on the line calling him. "Sorry, I gotta go, someone else is calling me."

"Alright, thanks anyway." Jerry sounds somewhat distracted, but that could just be the reception. Dean shakes his head and goes onto the other line. Normally he wouldn't bother, but this conversation was making Dean a little squeamish.

"Hey, Dino! Did I catch you at a bad time?" Dean recognizes it immediately as Bill from the golf course, and takes a casual drag. He's a nice guy, if anything just a smite too talkative.

"No, not at all, Bill."

"Good! I just wanted to say, I saw your show last night, and gee whiz you're really a smash!"

"Thanks, Bill. We try." The Kid always tells him he doesn't try hard enough.

"No, really, Dino! I mean, Jerry's great and all, but you've obviously got something yourself! I mean, you're funny—really funny—and you're better than Como." Tell the papers that.

"Thanks, Bill. That's nice. Listen, I'll see you on Saturday, but I've gotta run." Dean says tersely, almost surprised at the frustration that boils up within him.

"Alright, Dino, see you around." Clicking the phone back onto its base, Dean exhales loudly and folds his arms across his chest. Maybe he could make it by himself. Hell, who even knows anymore. Jerry sure seems to be doing better, anyhow. He's trying to become like Charlie Chaplain. Well, Chaplain didn't need some Italian crooner.

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Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1951

Ages: 34 and 25

Laughter. High-pitched, tittering giggles Jerry instantly recognizes as Gary's, followed by soft, but amused laughter from Patti. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jerry stretches his stiff limbs and leaps nimbly from the couch to peek into the kitchen where the noise is emanating from. In an almost picture-perfect scene, Jerry sees Patti guiding Gary's hands to knead the dough, and Ronnie sitting safely on the counter opposite them with a frown set in his chubby face that's hard for Jerry not to grin at. They're making cookies.

The sweet, familiar scent of freshly made dough wafts toward him so his stomach growls. He didn't eat all day at work, and as soon as he got home he was too tired to do anything other than sleep.

When Gary jumps off the stool, scampering across the kitchen to grab the cookie cutters, Jerry sees his curly, brown hair that is now about the color of Ronnie's blond locks from the flour that's also smeared across his face.

Once he brings the cutters over and climbs back onto the stool to lay them on the counter, Pattie turns to Ronnie with a smile. His eyes light up as he realizes it's his turn, and he holds out his arms expectantly for her to lift him onto the other counter.

As Jerry watches silently from the doorway, the bright lights from the kitchen not quite reaching him, his smile fades. When's the last time Gary and Ronnie smiled like that around him? When's the last time he made them that happy? A lump forms in his throat as he realizes what he's done. He remembers the nights spent curled up in bed or behind a couch, crying warm, useless tears because his mom and dad weren't there . . . If it weren't for Patti, he would've been the cause of his own kid's tears. He would have made his own kids feel the same way he did. Unwanted. Useless. A nobody.

I'll come home early from now on, Jerry vows to himself. I'll make more time to play baseball, or go fishing, or watch movies with them. I'll try harder.