September, 1988
So the honeymoon is over for both the beginning of school and working at the grocery.
Nick sits in the lot on a Friday late afternoon, having arrived a bit early for some reason, maybe to avoid being late, not that he ever has been, but there’s a chill in the air, and while flipping around the dial he hears that Cheap Trick hit start up and wanted to soak it in.
He realizes this track really does point him to some fire of unknown origin, and for that matter, unknown distance and intensity. At some point he has to fight tearing up, and naturally, yes, the urge to call Deej, but then…well, she might be good to talk to about this, should symptoms persist, who else?
Life has gone on after the brief summer turbulence. He’s gonna rake some leaves as he has time, mostly for the serenity, not that he knows what to do with the bread it earns, save for college? A car of his own? Where would he go?
But at the moment the words indicate that The Flame is a person, or personified, such as the singer, but Nick isn’t convinced, and he has no idea why, or what, is going on with this elegant track.
So he draws a breath, and without resolving it (cognitively, at least), shuts off the key once the track fades out and grabs his vest to go play grocery clerk. This place isn’t so bad but it’s not great, either, especially when subjected to an earful from the provincial populace. Is this what his dad has to deal with at work? All the preoccupation with partying, innuendo, gossip…where’s the…well, the stuff he actually gives a damn about?
Thankfully this is one of the nights where the overzealous assistant manager doesn’t seem to be parked with the rest of the employees; it seems she delights on micromanaging the help, especially the younger males, which it would seem she didn’t have the greatest luck with over the years. Naturally there’s a rumor she swings the other way.
But for now, Nick finds a bit of peace, and maybe The Flame is something closer than one might think, something imminent.
A moment.
* * * * *
On a Sunday shift, when the store is only open 10-6 and he has to clock out for 30 minutes for lunch, Nick has a close brush with a gal known as Darlene and has built up a certain reputation, well, if you choose to believe it.
Word around the store is that this Darlene, a strong-featured, sturdily-built brunette with frizzy curls and prominent acne scars who’s most striking feature is her quiet, knowing confidence, is a special kind of deviant. Evidently she maintains a secret cohort of several men with whom she meets up individually on a regular basis for mutual satisfaction, but always on her own terms.
Evidently she is well practiced with certain personal exercises, for her most personal muscles, and can bring her partner to a conclusion without any other movement than said personal muscles. Of course there’s plenty of speculation over who all is in rotation, but then, isn’t all of this a cart of manure?
But that doesn’t stop the whispers and tension whenever Darlene stops in for this or that, which seems to be at least every other day, hardly saying a word, and purportedly paying extra attention to the male employees. Part of the speculation surrounds the assistant manager, a curious favorite of the female employees, even though that assistant manager jokes that there’s no way he’d ever get that lucky.
And so, sure enough, whenever Nick is stocking this or that, Darlene will be in the store 3-4 times a week and at times has hovered nearby, sometimes grabbing something off the shelf, and other times just looking, or pretending to. He hasn’t asked anyone else if she acts the same way, mostly since it’s just too...well, why fuel the fire?
Thankfully as the fall progresses there would be less frequent visits from Darlene (if that’s even her real name?) and so the hype dies down before he notices. But it causes him to think back to last year when there was a shady gal who transferred to JHS for just a few weeks, name was Carolyn or something similar, one of those older names that usually wasn’t given in his generation. But Carolyn was probably in the class ahead of him and would be seen smoking with the smokers and just, had had an edge, as if she were running her own business, the kind of business that any knowledge of became involvement, and involvement became culpability.
And so, for the moment, Nick is just glad to get back to his quiet space, mess around on his workbench and hope it includes a cast-off desktop computer sooner than later.