Sunday July 18, 1988
Nick spent the morning catching up on world news and a vast array of international miscellany on the shortwave bands. This time of year is kind for sky wave in the shorter wavelengths and so Europe and the various Caribbean relay sites come booming in.
He had found a listening guide at the library in town and blew a couple bucks making copies since periodicals can’t be loaned out. Actually that was back in late winter, and so this became his new Sunday morning ritual with the help of a Heath receiver that Paps found at a hamfest last year and it became Nick’s Christmas from them (Tim the senior got an old sock full of change and crumpled bills, which he had to count three times to get right…)
There’s also some English service from the Far East that comes in certain times, and he’s even caught Australia on occasion, thanks to that wire strung out into the tree outside his window that he keeps unplugged (and sometimes puts the end in an old Alka Seltzer jar) when not in use. Sometimes the signals drift in an out, and at night you’ll drift off listening to something only to awake to static or else a strong signal about 10 kHz away buzzing for attention.
Nick had slept well after fishing with Ned up at the usual spot, sandwiches for lunch in the rented boat, not many bites but it got them out of the house.
Friday was a good day to chill out after Sabrina, that girl never stops. At one point she got out her trombone (something he’d never seen a girl play) and when her folks got home they were playing Smoke On The Water with Nick on bass as she lay on her back and worked the slide with a bare foot. Then after some excellent tacos she wants to see his room, despite the fact that she kept her door closed and always ran in to get things but hadn’t invited him to see it. At one point he’s pretty sure she left the door open to take a pee break while rehearsing their ensemble, although it’s not a huge deal since the jug is right next to the hinge side of the door.
On the way to his house he bugged her about seeing her room but she plays it off, oh it’s a shambles, or otherwise out of sorts from packing. This seemed like another one of her fun quirks, who knows, but she wanted to see the infamous tape machine and messed with his guitar some. This was the first time since grade school he’d had a non-related female in his room and his folks didn’t seem fazed by it, just glad he’s spending time with another human being for once.
“Wow this is so…Watergate,” she observes, which immediately prods Nick to bone up on Watergate at the liberry.
Another human being had been haunting his mind this weekend, and Nick was gradually coming to terms with why he tends to avoid Geena. After a couple more brief encounters in the past week he caught on to a few facts. First, her near perfection is not practiced nor engineered, it’s simply genuine and natural. This girl is simply gorgeous, not in a threatening way of course, respectfully, more of a Mary Lou Retton, very well made and doesn’t wear much makeup, just enough to highlight what’s already there, especially those rich eyebrows. She also has a fine petite figure hidden in plain sight by sound taste and a modest fashion sense. All that’s topped off by what always looks like a fresh haircut, reddish brown, short but done nicely, not one strand out of place.
And so, her gaze is burned into his brain and at times hovers before his minds eye, even though he only looks over in passing when she greets him from the piano. This causes some curiosity, even though she’s behind several walls, being older, in a vastly different life space, and seemingly devoted to some sort of ministry. Could his own gaze have lingered longer than he realizes?
At least this summer is shaping up to be more than it has been so far, there’s been more rain here and there at least.
Ned and Irene have settled into a new church here in town, very low drama and, at least at the moment, no assholes on the board. Nick still has breakfast with them most weeks before they head out and it’s understood he’ll have some kind of reflective, restorative time – hopefully a bike ride if weather permits.
Now that the heat has broken some he might try to find a new local fishing hole some morning, if nothing else try a tightline to see if any bottom dwellers will drag him in. Legend has it someone pulled a cat out of that river with one eye, an anchor tattoo, and... and a lit cigar in its mouth - and then tried to steal the guy’s truck keys.
Nick takes a ride, without a watch, but times it well enough to get back just as his folks arrive with a box of fried chicken and tater salad, which always works.
They spread out in the living room with plates and Nick is nearly finished when the phone rings, Irene answers, then hands it to him with a shrug, mouthing, “Female voice.”
Nick takes the phone, “Hello?”
“Nick, this is Marci Dell, from school?”
Nick pauses. Marci had seemed indifferent to him at school, evading eye contact and seemed annoyed and somewhat prickly in his presence. And so, this didn’t seem right for more reasons than he could count.
“Hey…what’s up?”
“Bad news I’m afraid. I got a call from Tish Staas this morning…umm…*sniff*...sorry, this is hard.”
“It’s OK.”
“Umm, they took an early hike and Sabrina, you know how impulsive she can be, well, she…I think there was a flower in a bush, and there was a rattlesnake in it.”
Nick’s blood turned ice cold.
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah, just…man.”
“I know I know, you’re the first one I called, Sab’s very sick but gave them a list for me to contact.”
“Thanks for letting me know, we’ll hope for the best of course.”
He hears sobbing and nearly tears up himself.
“You OK?” Such a silly question but didn’t want to just let her cry in silence.
He hears a sigh, then, “Nick, her folks did the best they could, you know, try to draw it out, but they had to practically carry her a mile then drive to a phone, so it was at least 45 minutes before she got to a clinic.”
“Oh man.”
“Yeah.”
They both go silent for a few seconds.
Nick finally gets a few wits, “Marci I really appreciate you letting me know, if you want to take a walk or something…I might go fishing though.”
“Thanks Nick, well, I’ll keep busy but the fishing sounds nice, I should hear more tomorrow, hopefully good news.”
Nick sighs, then semi-voices a “yeah.”
“Go fish or something, take care, Nick.”
“You too, talk soon.”
Nick had wondered over to the patio door with the cordless and felt like a walking mannequin when taking the phone back.
Irene looks up first, “Nick, you’re white as a sheet, what’s wrong?”
He sits on the couch, still in a daze. Finally he draws a deep breath and manages,
“Sabrina was bitten by a rattlesnake.”
Ned puts down his paper and looks over, Irene joins him on the couch, “Oh sweetie.”
“Yeah.”
“Were they able to get the antidote?”
“Sounds like it took about an hour to get to a clinic.”
“Oh no.”
Nick lets that float.
Irene takes a deep breath, “Do you think it would be OK to put it on the prayer chain?”
Nick rests his face in his hands, draws a breath, “I get the feeling they might be Buddhist or something, can it be like, anonymous?”
“How about, an unspoken urgent healing need?”
Nick looks up, finding hope in the concern, “Yeah that would be it.”
“Okay.” Irene pecks him on the cheek then grabs the phone to get the wheels rolling.