Friday November 27, 1992
Once again Sam is over for their weekly huddle, proving once again that life with Deej is never short of surprises. They’re a package deal; Deej is the stable element, they are more solid than ever, which leaves Sam as the random vector. Not that Deej herself has stopped throwing him off now and then, but this pint-sized blond is all over the place.
“How come I’ve never met Brenda? She seems to be for adults only.”
Nick looks up from his fretboard, something he’s been trying not to watch - to little avail - while playing. “I’m sure you will, she’s a nice gal.”
Sam grins and adds sauce, “So she’s hot for Vance?”
“I think they have a chance.”
Naturally she picks up on the rhyme, does a mock laugh and slaps her elbow, “Knee slapper.”
“You’re a dipshit.”
“So what’s she like?”
“Well, she’s definitely a future mom, pretty down to earth and fun - more so than I’d thought.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, not like us at all.”
This gets a wry grin. “At least I got to meet Noreen.”
“Definitely.” Stopping by on her way out of town, almost a week ago, yes, these two blonds from another planet met up and Irene snapped a picture of the three of them, one for the books. Of course, the two hit it off instantly and it was a crazy twist to say the least.
By now they’ve pretty much finished their set, the plan is to sneak in a practice session this weekend. Nick barely notices her hop up and head down the hall, and he’s due for a pee so sets his guitar down to do that.
Thanksgiving had been uneventful but it’s never going to be the same up at Gramma June’s when they (almost) all pile in, seems to get harder every year but they press on. They also stopped in on the other gramma at the rest home and surprise her along with Steve and Debbie, along with the questionable hug that he tries not to enjoy. At one point he leans into Ned,
“You and mom are too young to deal with this shit.”
“Nicky, you’re alllllright.”
Today started out with morning coffee with Nancy’s parents, who would be Ed and Gladys Beasley - basically an older version of Nancy and Dean, to the point where Nick had to fight the urge to grin, especially with three generations of gals seeming to watch him like a hawk. Then he and Ned each chilled out in their own space while Irene and the three generations plus an April hit the drag and caught a movie and such. They had even asked Bev Dawson but she needed to rest up after hosting yesterday.
After Nick picks up his guitar to work through some rough spots, Sam comes back in and pushes the door shut, then he looks up to find her in a robe and holding a pad of paper.
“Here,” and hands him the pad, “grab a pencil.”
For some reason his neck hairs start to tingle. “Okayyy….”
The next time he looks over, she has dropped the robe and just sits there wistfully. “Draw me.”
Nick shuts his eyes in near exasperation and draws a breath.
And then she drops, the clincher, which echoes from a certain parsonage bathroom way back when, “Please.”
So he opens the notebook and sees there are already two versions, one signed DeeJay and another from April. “Ohhh, so it’s my turn.”
She just clears her throat.
Nick manages to make eye contact, “Are you sure?”
“Go. I’m cold, in case you couldn’t tell.”
He almost issues a vain threat but can’t muster it, she’s in charge. Right on cue, some part of his mind will make an unfortunate association between his pencil’s mostly-intact eraser and her nascent nubs that - by her account - indicate a chill, not that he’s going to look close enough to validate it.
“Alright.”
“Dude there’s nothing here you haven’t seen better of, just…draw, you pansy.”
Well, when she’s right she’s right. For a split second he tries to take refuge in knowing Deej can deal with her for this, but then, this is actually a privilege, albeit, a pretty damn uncomfortable one.
So he glances up at her face and tries to do the rest from peripheral vision, starting with her hair, eyes brighter than usual tonight. This is definitely a rite of passage for their working relationship as collaborators and surrogate siblings.
The arms and torso are easy, but…yeah he’s generous with her bosoms and makes the U’s beneath the dots, but he has to try not to cringe at her well-defined ribcage, evidently from that condition early on, and she has splotchy pigment on her torso, poor thing. He has to pause a second to recall how expertly toned her sister is, but now is not the time; Deej can help redeem this soon, he hopes.
But one aspect he simply must ignore is the wee bit of patch peeking out even as she keeps her knees squeezed together (whew) - he struggles not to notice it’s a tad darker than her top mop, geez louise. But then, well, she does have fair pins and, hmm, pretty nice thighs like her sister, actually, so he gets to be honest here. She’s one of those gals with the peach fuzz on her legs, which we’ll just ignore for now, since, in the back of his mind, she’ll morph into punk-chick of sorts if she stays with music, the kind that wears skirts and tights to make a statement, and so yeah some decent muscle tone is just the ticket.
“Alright,” as he’s signing it with his initials, slightly concerned to put his name on it should it fall into questioning hands.
“Well, bring it over.”
He doesn’t bother argue, just keeps facing away, takes a seat next to her and hands it over and stares the other way.
She says nothing, so after what seems like an hour he meets her eyes, never so joyful, then she pulls him in for a two-beat smooch.
Then she closes the book, sniffs some tears, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome dear. Now will you put that goddamn robe back on?”
Sam doubles over laughing then covers up, “Alright I’ll go change, can we watch something?”
It’s become customary to stretch out on the bed for silly TV, usually with her on her belly, head toward the foot of the bed and falling asleep halfway through. He’d been meaning to suggest Atari but she’s always tired by now.
“Yeah that can be arranged, dork.”
She giggles again and scampers off.
Nick locks the door and calls big sis for good measure, and as usual she has the phone handy.
“Hello?”
“Well, it seems I’ve joined the club…”
“Ummm…”
“Her drawing pad.”
“Wait….<shuffling>...”no way, she asked you to draw…”
“Full monty.”
All he hears is muffled laughter.
“We’re gonna watch TV, just thought you should know.”
“Okay, sorry - hmmm <cough cough> are we still on tomorrow?”
“Ready if you are.”
“Mmmmhmmm…go watch TV, us gals are watching crime and Grampa’s dozing off.”
“Enjoy your crime, love you.”
She whispers, “Love you, nite.”