Dom & Enos

“This week at Don & Emos get a free medium peepee with every large peepee”

“I thought it was Dom & Enos?”

“Oh yeah…<ahem> so head on over to Dom...shit…<giggles>...um, Dom & Aminoes…”

“You’re such a professional.”

“Are you sure we’re not taping over anything?”

“This is a brand new tape, I unwrapped it myself and it smells fresh.”’

“But do you feel fresh? Alright...AHEM...rolling?”

“GO, ho!”

“This week at Dom & Enos get a free medium peepee with every large peepee. After all, aren’t two peepees better than one?”

“GOD April!”

“What?”

“You should totally do comedy or something, that eyebrow raise at the end totally kicks ass.”

“This is just stupid shit, we’d have to write a whole thing and, you know...”

“Well, not so much, just, you know do a bunch of these little ones.”

“A bunch of little peepees?”

“Don’t you wish - quick scenes, like that old Laugh-In show. How bout a few more sips of that bottle?”

“That might help, and Nick loves that show. And I feel bad we can’t have Sam around when we’re drinking, although I don’t think she’s into this goofy shit.”

“I love the girl but she’s wayy in her head sometimes.”

“Yeah when it’s just the two of us, you know, sisters, she’s goofy as ever. Actually, now that I think about it, she seems to be outgrowing that. I’ll sure miss it.”

“Nick will make up for it.”

<almost sprays a sip of white wine>”Bitch make me choke!”

“Does NICK make you choke.”

“Oh suck it – oh WAIT you don’t have one.”

“Maybe I should just grow one.”

“Where would you stick it?”

“OOOHH OOOHH roll it roll it!”

“Mmmmm...kay, flashing light!”

“Ahem...there once was a chick from Nantucket - wait, fuck it...there once was a girl from this town, who packs some sweet meat in her gown...she’s a really good lay, she can ride it all day, and for ten extra bucks she goes down. Hey quit shaking the camera you horny heifer!”

“I...oh, honey.”

“Oh well it was good while it lasted.”

“I’ll have Nick help edit this into a demo tape you can send to, wait, where do you send comedy?”

“Well he would know if anyone does, does the boy do anything but think?”

“He does me when he’s not thinking.”

<pensive staring>

“You okay dude?”

“I always feel like I’m missing something, like he knows...I dunno, like he knows things I’m supposed to know.”

“Psshh, it’s all techno babble, what he knows, but...well, from what I’ve...okay, I’ve known the guy for, what,

over seven years now, and – he’s really his own planet.”

“Owwww-kayyy.”

“That’s the best way I can describe it, and he’s really open about it, but...it’s like, he sees people as, well, like

images…abstractions. Um, how about like characters in a play.”

“Pawns in chess?”

“Well, he’s not that bad, is he?”

“No, I guess not, but I think I would be. He’s a good egg, I think I see what you mean though.”

“Well it helps him to be, I guess...objective? Since he doesn’t tend to get emotional about most things, not like the rest of us. I mean, he does really like to bond with someone and be helpful -”

“Yeahh, he is really sweet like that.”

“And that’s – the, um, the detachment, oh, and yeah the way Nick describes life is that he’s observing it, like – well, like he’s usually just seeing it from the side, like on a screen, I know that’s deep but - you know, it’s probably what helped him get through all that horseshit at their church a while back. Did you hear, that asshole, Polanski turned up dead out there?”

“I heard the name, but -”

“Yeah he was the idiot that pushed them out of the Bible Church then fell for a damn, I dunno, a scam and left his family flat broke-”

“DJ take a deep breath, you’re red as an apple.”

<deep sigh> “I know, it just pisses me off...people.”

“Why does there have to be people?”

“Hmm, I think you just summed up Nick.”

Fair '89

August 1989

This year at the fair it’s just the two of them walking around exchanging wary glances and usually arm in arm, which at this point just feels very mature to Nick.

Their senior years and firm plans loom on the horizon. For reasons Nick can’t pin down he floats this, 

“Had you thought of starting out at the twig?”

This earns him a slight grin and what we’ll call an expectant eyebrow,

“Well it would screw up the scholarships…”

“Oh.”

“...well, and, I guess to be honest – and this sounds horribly cliché, but…”

“You need to find yourself?”

Deej answers with a knowing stare that reminds him why they seem to keep in touch like this.

“Hmm.”

“Well, it’s better than bumming through Europe, and…<sighs>...I think you know why a lot of folks want to head to a campus, so it’s not like a party central, hell they are even pretty strict about upperclassmen living off campus.”

“Have fun.”

This gets a pretty accurate and equally hard sneaker to his right buttock. 

“Thought so.”

She pulls him in for a conciliatory peck on the cheek, not that he really knows what she means by it.

From there he talks her into letting him treat for lunch, he gets plenty of hours at Rad Shack and is starting a nest egg for gas money to get to said Twig, and maybe for some wardrobe here and there since Bain gives in to the corporate dress code, better safe than sorry. But to Nick this is just another form of outward maturity.

On the subject of romance they’re both characteristically vague. Nick has been laying low as usual, with the exception being when he tried a tender moment with Marci which just made her blush and avoid eye contact best she could. Oh, except there was his off and on lab partner in Earth Science, but she was more of an amusing gigglebutt than anything.

Gradually Nick notices more folks noticing them than usual, who’s this ginger-ish drink of water with Swanson? Guess it just adds to his mystique. Another twist is this tall drink of water has been doing the high bangs with it conspicuously straight everywhere else – but Nick isn’t about to ruin the mystique and ask if she irons it. 

At one point he avoids running dry, “How’s Sam?”

Deej rolls her eyes, “I love her but she’s weird.”

“Good, it builds character.”

“Dork.”

They don’t speak a whole lot as they eat, but then again, at this point, yeah.

The embrace at his car goes on a bit too long for his comfort, but maybe that’s the idea. 

On the way home he fights the need to hear Deep Purple’s Highway Star, then gives in, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking of her at random moments whenever that classic track fills his head.

The Flame

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.

For DJ...Again

Like most years the holidays seem weird and jittery, well, at least not like in fourth grade when he got burned out on a stupid school musical that they didn’t halt even though a stomach bug broke out.

This year is jittery but with a sense of mission, albeit one with plenty of unknowns.

His folks were in agreement that Deke’s house arrangement had many more pros than cons, and besides, he knows how to keep the lawn nice (Deke insists that Nick was his best hired greenskeeper ever, although Nick insists that’s just a butter-up). And so he’ll take over utilities soon and gradually make the move. He’s got ample blessing to string wires for radio but there’s a lot of nearby power lines to limit options. It seems vertical antennas might get past that, we’ll see.

Times like this call for a project, especially since he’s caught up at the school lab and his side gig is set to go fully live in the new year and the ramp-up is so go so far. Fred has been chasing down some other leads so time will tell, but either way, he’s finally making Deej a sequel tape.

Of course the reality of now vs, what, six (damn) years ago is these selections really matter now, no wild pitches and even the ones with an in-joke will have purpose. Heh, purpose. Nothing reassures these days like purpose, which is prollably a good thing.

And double of course, well, even though he did this earlier in the year there’s just so much more…yeah, more, this time around.

And so, after a couple weeks of pining, this is what gets etched on a fresh Maxell high-bias 60, not that she’ll get to enjoy the extended range of chrome (although he plans to go as far as adjusting her car’s tape deck so the azimuth matches his deck for greatest effect...) but, again, they’re not eighth-grade brats anymore, and he’s not about to skimp. He’d even thought about going full metal (oxide) but some decks don’t handle those well so we’ll call it good. 

And this time he even considered trying to print some glue-on labels, but that would be impersonal - so once again the cassette shell will bear “For DJ - once more” and presented with a blank Maxell insert card, so she can hear it (or, maybe they hear it, together, upon request) and he’ll add a laser-printed playlist later on. 

Side One:

    1) Now - Krokus (better late than never!)

    2) Give It Away - RHCP (for some bump n’ grind)

    3) My Morning Song - The Black Crowes

    4) The Flame - Cheap Trick (LP version)

    5) Mista Bone - Great White

    6) Thank You - Led Zeppelin

Side Two:

    7) Tear Down The Walls - The Firm (our boy finally wised up…)

    8) Desire - U2 (don’t ask why, just needs to be here)

    9) She Only - Great White

    10) Nothin’ At All - Heart (for the Heart fan)

    11) Lost In You - Rod Stewart (this stood out from when WLS still played music and he’d dial ‘em in during showers before school)

    12) Pearl Necklace - ZZ Top (just to see how long it takes her to catch on…)

Runners Up:

    • Rod Stewart could have appeared twice with an encore of You’re In My Heart or Mandolin Wind

    • Save Your Love would have been an alternate GW but, yeah, that Halloween needs to live on.

    • Something earlier from The Firm, like Satisfaction Guaranteed or Radioactive - or hell, even Paul Roger’s previous band like Ready For Love…but, somehow, fitting Led Zep on here was perfect, since he first discovered them around the time he made her the first tape.

    • Def Lep’s Hysteria would be a double-dip, so, no.

Of course by using a chrome tape he makes every effort to get first-generation sources where possible, and so a lot of the selections are straight from library LPs that he re-checked out and dubbed in stolen moments here and there. Hell, he might make himself a dub of this to play in the car.

As it turns out, Deej gets pensive when he presented the tape, hands it back, 

“Make me a copy like you have, on a regular tape, for the car, then I’ll hang on to this in a special place.”

“A pickle jar?”

“No in my bra.”

And so it goes.

They had chosen the senior Eversoles’ basement as neutral ground for Christmas Eve and they kept it simple, she got him a nice leather belt and Great White’s Psycho City on CD, not bad.

For Nick, the tape was a much bigger deal than the promise ring he secretly snagged from the small jeweler in town that’s been in the same spot on Main since the pine trees along the river where just saplings. He kept it in the little bag in his left front jeans pocket until a moment presented itself, then as she leaned on him and nearly dozed off, he acts like he was reaching for a hanky and slips it onto her left hand.

“Nicholas James, what did you just do?”

He can see she hasn’t opened her eyes and is feeling it.

“It’s just a little something, for now.”

“For now, huh?” Deej draws a deep breath and he can feel her getting flushed. “You realize I don’t know whether to kick your ass or swallow you whole, right?”

“We always figure it out.”

Deej draws another deep breath then,

“OK I gotta go show this sucker off.”

Since she’s too flustered to stick around any longer they casually head out for an extended goodbye against her car and settle in to their own spaces. For now.

These Merry Gentlemen

Dec 29, 1992

Nick looks around the Jameson High School cafeteria where just about everyone he’s ever known displace countless ghosts from his years here. Actually as designated photographer he’s been snapping shots on Uncle Phil’s Olympus SLR which makes it nice to have a functioning auto-exposure.

The ball started rolling a couple of Saturday nights ago when Tim hinted he had big news, and they’d be back for a late Christmas and sticking around till New Years. One thing led to another and Steve and Debbie insisted they go big, and if they could rent a school property it would be alcohol-free and they’d bring Andy down as well as Joyce. So from there the snowball kept rolling, and thankfully the actual snow held off. 

So folks started trickling in as the hosting families wrapped up the decorations and refreshments.

Adding some unction to the growing snowball was news that Vance had popped the question and so they joined in along with their parent(s) and Brenda’s younger brother – who, at least thus far, is having absolutely zero luck with Sam.

And so there are Swansons, there are Eversoles, there are Dawsons, there are some families he doesn’t recognize, and as a surprise - Irene had gotten Kevin and his wife on board. He’s sporting a bit more weight and facial hair but married well, no surprise.

Oh and Noreen - couldn’t make it, she was stuck up north but had been checking in from time to time and is here in spirit, of course.

Chuck Tuttle also sends his regrets from the hospital as his angina acted up right before Christmas. But Lorena made it and is ne never far from Debbie to form quite a classy contingent.

April and Sam have thus far avoided having to shut down Stockton, who sticks where it’s safe with the guys. But Deej ended up dragging April over to meet Debbie to force the former to mingle some and not sit there like a bitter old bitty, and, to a point, it may have just done some good.

Most of the gals went with a short hemline and so Stockton has trouble keeping up, but tonight he’ll have to try his luck somewhere else for the most part.

Almost right on cue, Tim and Vance get the idea to do some caroling and so most of the younger dudes (including and especially Kevin) join in to go round a few blocks, and they almost snag Andy although he’s afraid he’s not in good enough shape to keep up. And so it starts with Deck The Halls in whatever key seems to work and on they go, well, until they get into the weeds then someone shouts out another tune to try, and on it goes.

But then during a lull as they pass some closed storefronts said Kevin bellows out in perfect pitch,

“Arrest these merry gentlemen is what the cops will say...”

Which gets hearty approval from the rest, and some try to respond, then leave it to Vance,

“No one will bother to post bail and in the clink we’ll stay.”

As the laughter dies down Kevin once again starts in with Burl Ives’ Holly Jolly Christmas only to end up carrying it mostly as a solo during the verses. Showoff.

Back at the hoedown the conversations echo and fill Nick’s mind with varied opinions on the president-elect and his wife, disapproval and intrigue at Madonna’s antics this year, but very little that he cared to really talk about, including his plans. At times he’s tempted to just channel Deej in her Muppet voice, “Vee shall see.”

At one point Irene flags him down, “Hey, what was that deal when you used to do the interviews, with that old microphone?”

Nick thinks for a minute, “Oh yeah…<clears throat>...you’re a dingaling and a bozo, how do you respond to these charges?”

The ladies giggle, then Irene actually breaks it down, “He doesn’t even allege anything, just hits ‘em with an accusation…”

Nick had never realized that’s what makes it pop. Feeling inspired he heads over to an equally uninspired Sam and tries it out, after which she very calmly reaches toward her right ear that faces him and starts scratching behind it with her middle finger.

So he prods, “Maybe you need to wash that spot more often.”

This time she takes a decisive swat toward his groin and he barely turns in time. Groups are just not her thing.

About then he gets roped in to some pics of the three couples, so they gather and as a press pool suddenly forms with Phil taking his Olympus back. Nick can’t help but notice April, obviously not having the best of time and it finally hits him, her expression, both back in Sunday school and now, reminds him of the girl on that Foreigner album cover in the restroom, Head Games. Aye. It’s getting pretty obvious that she loves her cynicism more than anything else these days, and Nick is a tad envious of that.

Deej had tacitly suggested his wardrobe tonight, leather shoes, khakis and yes, the fabled Hawaiian shirt, untucked even. However she based her ensemble around a nice skirt since we have to be ready for the paparazzi. Evidently Sam and April were in on the same joke and have never looked better.

At one point Brenda re-joins the table with a Crystal Pepsi on the rocks and that takes on a life as Nick and Vance hover behind their gals. 

Never to be outdone, April picks her moment, regarding the novel clear cola, “I hear it tastes like ball sweat,” then punctuates it with a raised eyebrow.

Right then Sam nearly chokes on her first sip of said Crystal Pepsi, but the others lock eyes, exchange knowing grins, and even Nick can tell they’re daring one another to break as Sam slowly lights up, obviously keeping step with the big girls.

Nick doesn’t give ‘em the satisfaction, “OK I’m outta here.”

Just as Vance chimes in with, “My, look at the time…” the gals explode with cackles and turn every shade of red under the sun.

The atmosphere is a lot like a myriad of church dinners from growing up, except without the gym facilities where the kids would play ball and horse around after the eating had wrapped up, although, well, there are some kids here and there’s obviously untold shenanigans among the cacophony of voices.

Earlier in the week, while Nick was struggling to stay preoccupied with anything work related (and somewhat tempted to get in some hours in for Bain just for some structure), news started going around that his ol’ buddy Ted Polanski had been ID’d as a deceased vagrant out in southern California. They were taking up a collection for his wife and son, and Nick didn’t hesitate to chip in a twenty in addition to what his parents gave, was the least he could do, as some volunteering lawyers tried to recover at least some of the ill-fated estate.

Vance found a new conversation looming so Nick leans against a wall and takes a deep breath, trying to catch the contagion of the room. But then, this time of year has usually come with a dull, empty numbness of sorts.

Polanski. That worthless fucking piece of shit, couldn’t even offer the satisfaction of rotting in jail for his trouble, took the easy way out. That handful of weeks he lead Nick’s Sunday School class make more and more sense – for better or worse – the older he gets. At the time he didn’t have the words to express how uncomfortable it was, the tension, the passive aggressive, almost accusatory tone that made Nick start to feel guilty for things he had no idea he had done – but it was all a projection from whatever dark place that drove the man; essentially, anyone who was not Ted Polanski was guilty of not being Ted Polanski. Nick still didn’t like to condemn someone to hell, but what if that’s where they already lived?

He’s also fighting the sense that Noreen seems conspicuously absent, as if she were hiding somewhere, not feeling worthy to be here, or just feeling left out. But then, he gets the sense she’ll be just fine, the kicker being: how fleeting their time was, and how, even knowing that at the time he couldn’t seem to soak more of her in than he did. But there’s been hints that Bart may want to upgrade a couple desktops at the shop soon, so at least there’s still a connection to that world.

Nick finds himself standing near the table where a gal named Janet always sat with a couple other folks. One grade ahead of him and with a bonafide glandular condition that made her weight unmanageable, had nevertheless earned the moniker Planet Janet. Nick had always struggled with the fact that a handful of idiots had to start that shit, although, given her level of self-acceptance it almost seemed she had come up with it herself. Last he heard she had found success with an experimental treatment and was now barely recognizable. What a world.

At some point tonight he realizes he’d been subconsciously avoiding the row where the Big Bang took place, allegedly where this character had his hand down a poor gal’s dungarees under the table toward the beginning of Nick’s freshman year. But then he was strangely drawn to where he sat at the time, none the wiser, and probably falling prey to the ultimate had to be there. It involved a common idiom at the time, don’t shit your pamps, which included the barbed intimation that the audience still wore Pampers. So one afternoon between bites of peaches Joe Corydon quips, inn yourrr paaamps, to the tune of Loverboy’s latest hit from the Top Gun movie. Such a multitude things we don’t try to relate to anyone who didn’t do time in this place.

So he meanders over to Deej just as he sees an Emmett Bain walk in, quickly waves to Ned and Fred, then walks up to Nick with that trademark sneering grin as he reaches for a handshake,

“Hey you know anyone who can upgrade my stores, really, REALLY cheap?”

Going Home

Sunday Dec 6, 1992

During lunch leftovers at the Swanson house the phone rings. It’s Deke.

Not surprisingly our heroes slept well after they tried to watch reruns only to succumb to shenanigans, highlighted by Miss DJ refusing to be outdone at being teased for the good part of an hour on the trip home from the boxing, and so Nick was subjected to a slow burn. But they wisely moved their operations to a blanket on the floor to avoid some awkwardness and help ensure they didn’t fall asleep and but rather end up in separate rooms, you know, for good measure.

And so the morning had been a check of the airwaves and some gin rummy downstairs until this point. Irene led a Scripture-devotional for herself and Ned but within earshot, so our heroes kept mostly quiet during the games, which Deej had won handily this time.

“Hey man, you still alive these days? You been working too hard on that contract?”

Nick takes the cordless out of the room since he’ll have to explain something in the next few breaths.

“Yeah, the fall really kicked in and I lost track of time - you doin’ OK?

“Oh, I’m great, and got some things to run past you in fact, been makin’ plans, junior - got some time this week, or even today?”

“Actually, yeah, we’re just hangin’ out, yesterday we packed up my mom’s mom’s house, she has to move to a nursing home.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that Nicko, that’s pretty tough - you can fill me in on that.”

“Sure thing, well, I can head over soon but, well, my girl is here - actually, different girl now from the summer, long story but it all worked out.”

“Oh…OHHH, damn dude, you move fast!”

“Actually I told you about her over the years, Danni, from the church school.”

“OH the tall strawberry blond? You DOWG, hey bring her with you if you two are serious, since, well, you’ll see.”

Nick pauses a minute and knows better than to make sure he’s cool with her coming along.

“Sounds great, we’re finishing up lunch, got any of that ice tea?”

“Ha not today but I’ll put on a pot of coffee and have some pie in the fridge.”

“Deal! You still know how to bargain, Deke.”

“Alright my man, give your folks my best and see you soon.”

And so Deej, true to form, scrambles to get her spare jeans from her car and raids Nick’s closet for a decent “top” before fussing with her hair, which evidently takes longer now that the bangs are growing out. Nick just thinks it looks kinda hot in her trademark understated way, although, deep down he’s glad she’s not heavily endowed in the chest to where she’ll stretch out his shirts.

Once a few blocks away Nick is greeted with a shoulder hug and Deej is greeted by a barrage of grief for claiming this ne’er do well, in fact, pretty quickly they are bonding over the whole church-house fiasco from five years ago, but alas, Nick just grins; there’s far worse ways to pay one’s dues and none could be this fun.

They tactfully catch him up on Noreen and how things worked out in recent weeks, and their plans, although, granted Nick’s are a bit more open-ended at this point.

So Deke poses this, “So Nicky, you still work at the campus - wonderful place - do you feel like you still have purpose there, one way or another, or is this freelance gig with Fred gonna take off?”

Nick draws a breath, “Right now it’s a mixture of both, but yeah, if we get more clients here or there then I’d move on from the lab tending. I’d still like to get a bachelors though, even if it’s just a few hours at a time.”

“That’s good,” then Deke grins, “Are those buildings over there still as tall as when you started?”

“Hmm, hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah in the past year they don’t seem like mine to conquer, but for the next group.”

“There ya have it, that’ll be $95 for the first hour,” then Deke explodes into laughter as Nick shakes his head and Deej just finds them both way too endearing.

“Alright, so here’s, we’ll…alright…so I’m not getting younger and the firm is doing fine without me, and you know I’ve been spending more time up home.”

“With your daughter?”

“Ahh, yes, indeed, we’ve gotten more acquainted over the years, you know her mother made a clean split - anyway, so it turns out she does a lot of nonprofit work with inner city concerns, and - Nick you, I mean have you ever been through the South Side?”

“Oh just to get to the big museum.”

“Ahh, it’s a different world ain’t it?”

Nick didn’t know what to say, at first, then he balled up, “Deke I was in a van full of white church kids from the sticks, which is a different world in itself.”

“BAHHHHHH haaa haa haaa!” Deke claps his hands and has to recover a minute. 

Nick glances over at Deej who throws him a beaming wink.

“Oh Nicky, that sounds about right, but we have it so nice down here, it’s calm and the problems don’t compound themselves - I know you’ve heard it all before, but, damn, that’s where I came from!”  His face is more serious than he’s ever seen.

“Sounds like a calling, old friend.”

“It is, Nick, it really is…I think, well, shit, before you pups were even a twinkle in your mommas’ eyes, when Lew offered to start a practice down here, I dunno, I just wanted to say I made it -”

“Oh you made it,” Nick chimes in but not completely sure he should.

“Well, thank you, but…now there’s so much more, I mean I never wanted my name in the firm’s, it seems like I never knew when I’d have to go back, and now, well, I think I’m in pretty good shape for 62 ha!”

“Deke I hope I’m in half your shape at that age - you still swim?”

“Not in December, fool!”

Nick and Deej laugh.

Deke grins. “So, I’m goin back home soon, but not buyin’ a house - Nicky, I want you to take care of this place for me.”

Nick pauses, “Okay?”

“What I wanna do is set up a trust of sorts, where you are legal custodian and rightful heir of this place. I’ll still retain the ownership and equity should I ever need to fall back on it, but I doubt it. This may come as a surprise but Nicky this feels right in my heart, I want you to keep the memories alive, they really mean a lot, and I have no use for it, but you do.”

Nick just stares at a wall, “Hmm.”

“OK, alright son I just laid a lot on ya, but go talk it over with your folks and we can all meet soon, but I want to start my work up there the first of the year, even if you just keep an eye on the place for a while.”

Nick finally takes a deep breath, “OK, wow, sure -”

Deej saves him, “Deke I’ll make sure he explains it correctly to Ned and Irene.”

“Oh thank you my dear, I can tell you’re gonna keep this poor fool in line.”

Nick looks over as she frames a line perfectly, “Science can only do so much.”

And there it is, the biggest laugh of the afternoon.

Boxing Day

Saturday Dec 5, 1992

Around 9:30 pm

Nick and Deej cuddle in the back seat of his parents’ wagon, this time returning from Grandma Joyce’s place for the last time. 

But the rule seemed to be keeping things light in the face of, well, yeah. 

Today was boxing with Steve and Deb, which worked out with three pairs and surprisingly lively conversation, laughter and most surprisingly, the gals really hitting it off. After lunch especially, every time Nick would go near where they were working they would get quiet and flash each other looks, which of course means he doesn’t even wanna know…

The guys took on the garage, which, thankfully, didn’t have any nasty stash of porn, just mostly Andy’s trove of auto parts for which Steve had already found an enthusiastic buyer along with the Maverick. At one point Steve offers this,

“Nick I’m really glad you got yourself a fine tall gal, she reminds me of Mariette Hartley back in the 70s.”

Ned chimes in, “Hey I see that too, Nick was little though – wasn’t she in those Polaroid ads with, was it Garner?”

And on it goes.

Most other things of any value would go to a consignment shop, everything else donated, well, except the family keepsakes of course.

It’s good to know Grandma’s estate would get a little boost, although Steve mentioned there’s no worries about her stay at the nursing home for however long. Andy will go to a halfway house of sorts and hopefully keep at least half way out of trouble.

The most bittersweet part was dinner with all of them. Joyce looks the same as a few weeks ago, understandably a bit bewildered by all this but, well, she simply loves being with everyone. Nick can’t help but wonder why this didn’t happen more over the years, but then, hell, they probably all are.

But then, Andy had always needed to show off in a crowd, which probably has a lot to do with that. But recent events may have just sobered him up some. Tonight no one is drinking and it seems just fine, Ned struck up quite a conversation with him about the football, which seems to be Andy’s preoccupation these days, good for him.

And so this trip home is a huge relief on many fronts, and while his parents chill to whatever Irene finds on the radio, Nick has Deej in a fluster, sneaking in ear bites, whispering this and that - which may just come true tonight as she’s taking the spare bedroom, well, at some point. She had gotten to the house bright and early despite April and Sam keeping her up as long as they could the night before and got to catch some winks on the way up as Nick took a turn driving.

The past week had been a changeup with no classes at the campus for holiday break, hard to believe his first term as a post-student completed, so he put in as much time as possible getting the labs ready for another whirl – and somehow, despite Goody’s reassurances, it never seems like enough. 

Thankfully Chuck Tuttle’s plant is semi-live and looking good, so he’ll swing back that way some this next week to start shoring things up.

But on Monday morning he got to pop a tape into the car’s Pioneer deck and let it sink in, such a unique, precious thing, and only the girls had another copy of the final mix (he had even offered them the first generation copy but they declined). Nick had panned each of the girls a little ways to each side, maybe a third ways, but who knows if those pots are linear. Either way, with the bass in the middle and his leads panned opposite of Sam’s strumming it really came together, more or less, would be nice to EQ the tracks some, but still, wow.

Gradually he and Deej settle down and just lean on each other, she dozes off and he prolly does too.

One way or another tonight is definitely one to tune in the jazz radio. But at the moment, Nick is internally giddy at a recent discovery that Deej doesn’t find that interesting, but just the same, it turns out Paps had a tape of rather raunchy stories in morse code stashed in the trove, simply marked “CW Speed Building,” and what a way to build speed.

Rolling

Nov 29 1992

Alright you…

I woke up and had to pee and I could tell you were sawing logs so I wanted to tell you this way how perfect tonight was. I think you know it’s been crazy these past weeks, DUH you’ve been living it with me HA but Nicky this, well, I think I needed to take a step and I hope you were ready for that step. Also I hope you know I don’t expect us to repeat this, not that it will ever be the same, but…well, if you do I may just keep something handy (blush).

And I know you were probably hesitant to, um, “finish the job” and that’s OK, in fact, I would be a bit hesitant myself although we know not it’s pretty low risk. But now I feel like my own person and of course closer to you and more sure of us than I’ve ever been, and that’s what I needed tonight.

OK enough blabbering and mush, get some well-earned sleep (HA!) my dear and I hope we can nail the song tomorrow - OH, how about my grandparents’ basement? I’m pretty sure they would understand and may even like the music, my parents always suspected they were closet hippies, isn’t that hilarious?

Well love you and talk in the morning, gonna sneak this in your room and TRY not to get in bed with you (HEE HEE)

DJ

* * * * *

Nick noticed the letter on his stand after his morning pee, with just “Hey” on the outside fold, just like her to try and leave it there unnoticed. 

Deej is already talking to Irene downstairs and he goes to work tracking down the mental list of equipment to make it all work, including his entry-level RadShack mic from a sixth-grade Christmas list, and, crap, his other cast-off mics from the old church were a tad iffy but we’ll see, would be ideal to track the girls separately.

Hot damn, yeah, really need to make sure Sam is on board for an ASAP session, so we head downstairs for eggs and such.

But fear not, Sam has been confirmed and all Nick needs to worry about is equipment. And so gals give him shit for preparing a list while fixing and consuming eggs, and so Deej steps in and helps cook the breakfast - ain’t she sweet?

So there’s a factory-fresh chrome cassette, the mics and cords - stands would be nice but chairs or pillows will work in a pinch. His guitar, Peavey amp and the bass plus at least one cord, and need a tuner. The master plan is for the girls to go first then he will add his stuff in separate tracks afterward. OH need phones then, good catch. But this way it’ll be in the same spirit then he can mix it down later, as it turns out they have the mixer all week, it seems the home group sponsor is a bit too trusting but here we are.

And so the materiel makes its way down the stairs then he gets help loading it into his car, and they’re off, he follows Deej since she has to pick up their pint-sized mastermind.

Once at their makeshift studio, the deal becomes that that spectators are welcome to spectate from the stairwell, as a form of rent. Ralph expressed every regret for not being able to help carry and Nick gradually realizes he needs to grab a brew with this fellow sooner than later, or, well, whatever beverage his health allows.

So once they’re all tuned up and set up and cued up for the initial take with just the girls, Nick pauses and looks at them for a drawn-out second, long enough to get a pair of inquisitive looks in return, then ponders, out loud, 

“So why are we doing this?”

The girls exchange glances, Deej draws a deep breath, then Sam answers, 

“I just thought it would be cool.”

Nick was ready for this, “Hon it’s already beyond cool. We’re making something bigger than any of us.”

Deej throws Sam a look that seems to say, there ya have it.

Sam alternates glances at each of them, then huffs, 

“Are we gonna pull our dicks all day?”

Nick grins, “That’s what I wanted to hear, let’s go…three…two…you know what to do,” then clicks the tape as the gals pick it up while his ears get a little warm – did she really just say that with her grandparents right there?

Release

Saturday

Nick and Deej walk solemnly along the reservoir around 9:30 in the morning. She had shown up unannounced just as Nick was having breakfast and casually asked if they could get some air. Despite the fact that she was sunny for Irene, he gets credit for solving the quick math that something lurketh beneath. 

As soon as he backed out of their driveway she broke into tears, so Nick just holds her hand and lets her.

At the reservoir lot she’s down to occasional sobs as she stars blankly out the window, so he opens her door, takes her hand and here they are.

After some sighs, 

“Okay…so, my grandma Gladys is upset that us girls don’t want to have kids.”

Nick pauses as long as his conscious will allow. “Ouch.”

After a few more breaths, “Yeah…I mean, well, I think mostly she’s just trying to understand, but she broke down when talking to Mom and I just found out late last night.”

Nick sighs, “I bet that didn’t help you sleep.”

“What sleep? Well, I think I did a little.”

Nick realizes his body is about ten different temperatures, being somewhat bundled up on a sunny, breezy day, and can’t find words.

She picks up, “Mom and Dad are still thinking of adopting, so to me that all works out, but you know how grammas are.”

“Yeah.” Actually he’s just going along, although he can imagine his Gramma June would be tickled if Tim and Dena get productive at some point.

She squeezes his hand and looks over at him, “Nick you look pale.”

“Sorry.”

She laughs and hugs him, draws a deep breath, “Thanks for bringing me up here, you know we’re doing great, right?”

“I hope so.”

“And you know how hard it is for us girls, we don’t like to disappoint but that doesn’t change things, I have goals, and hell there’s plenty of other people’s kids out there - anyway.”

“Don’t you have cousins on that side?”

“Yeah but that’s a situation I don’t wanna go into.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

* * * * *

Noreen greets them with a hug, Deej first, then breaks into tears against his chest. Deej rubs her back as she tries to whisper, 

“Nicky thanks for believing in me this year.” She has her hair tied back, jeans and a button-up top, looks really nice. 

Actually most of the gang is more presentable than usual, plus some miscellaneous school cohorts mixed in, and he has yet to get a lowdown from Bart on the Cordoba project, although he’s pretty sure it’s snug under a tarp in a rather undisclosed location.

So he just squeezes her a little tighter then she breaks free and talks to Deej to let him off the hook.

As a diversion he glances over at the spread just as the big guy finds him with a hearty handshake, “Hey dude, better dig in!”

So they catch up for a few minutes and sure enough Bart has of yet barely touched prized toy but hopes to once things slow down over winter.

Once the McDonnell sibs have moved on he and Deej grab paper plates, he makes a cold-cut Dagwood and she just gets some pasta salad and fruit. 

Today had been chill time while she and Sam ran around some after their walk and then some after they got back, during which he played some radio while Deej dozed off on his bed as she does. There seems to be a rager of a contest this weekend so he hails some on the noobie portion of 40 meters and makes a single contact. Alas, this speed is starting to feel like a well worn shoe and he’s more and more tempted to upgrade soon, possibly do a study sprint after Christmas.

Deej had been rather elusive after her time with Sam, actually, pretty much the classic vibe that convinced him to reach out to her in the first place. The twist was that she had arranged to sleep in Tim’s room tonight since they might get back late from the next county, so they basically swap sisters tonight. 

And then on the ride over she seemed in a dreamy state, he wore the brown leather shoes with jeans and she went with a knee-length denim skirt and flats with a cute top. Even still he finds her legs distracting when driving, like they’re beckoning his attention as a bratty move, as someone calling your name then turning away when you look at them.

And of course, she tops it off with that KMart parfum-de-whatever from back in the day. Doesn’t say much tonight, just takes his arm as they walk.

So now they find a couple chairs in the corner and dig in and just watch everyone. At one point between a cheese block and a grape, she pipes up, 

“Do you mind taking a little walk after we eat?”

Nick looks over and she has her eyes somewhere in the room then throws him a rather mischievous grin. “Umm, sure?”

She smiles and goes on consuming as he realizes he’d never really talked to her family besides Bart’s gang and Arden. He’s also torn whether to say hi to Edna although he could prolly get away with introducing Deej since there’s not going to be any context at this point.

But the ambiance is pretty contagious tonight, from what it sounds like the clan usually does their own thing on thanksgiving then they do a big feast on Saturday, and usually plan it around a game or another.

After throwing their plates away, Nick makes good and they greet Edna, she’s delighted to see them and bluffs her way through but Nick does his best to do the same and it feels nice.

As they sneak out toward the metal shop Deej pulls him behind some machinery and starts a once-over so thorough it’s nearly a twice-over.

After a bit she lets up, “Listen bucko…tonight’s been great, um…”

“Yaess?”

“So, if you take me to her cabin, we’ll find it unlocked.”

“Oh…”

“Yeap just a bunch of boxes except what gets left for whichever brats take it over next.”

“Ahh-”

She plants one on him, “Lead the way stud.”

So they meander through the back of the shop complex, out the door and turn toward the main gravel lane which is well-lit enough for this purpose. Once again she takes his arm and leans her head on his, runs her fingertip on his forearm, but this time, 

“So…I had to run papers to the health office this week and may have grabbed something from the counter while no one was looking.”

Nick pauses, “A school pen?”

“Uh, no…something for your pen.”

Then he remembered that they sometimes set out a bowl of, well, cock socks. “OH.”

“So if you don’t mind, I’m totally ready - you don’t have to finish in me, but…”

“Gotcha,” then seals it with a smooch. No pressure.

It really is a nice, clear starry night, but his head becomes much less clear as they approach the storied cabin off to their right. Although one thing is certain, whatever forces are at play here, this will certainly reset every single memory made here with the previous occupant.

The approach stones are just as he remembered, Nick practically starts counting them, and sure enough, not locked. They can see around some by the ambient light from the poles outside but just the same he carefully maneuvers to the kitchen and flips that on just long enough to get their bearings and once again reset his mindset from this being her space to that neatly stacked boxes, some appliances and, yes, the sofa.

As he makes his way back toward Deej it’s understood that sofa is calling and without a word they set their coats on the back, she undoes her skirt, slips it off to sit on and takes her place. 

“Oh,” he blurts out as his eyes finally adjust to the fact that she’s going commando.

“Yeah, it’s one of those days and I’d have to wring ‘em out by now as it is.”

“Dayamm.”

She giggles as she undoes her top.

Nick’s knees get weak.

“Alright, come to mamma.”

He takes a step forward and she undoes his belt and so he joins in and awkwardly helps, then tries to fumble with her bra as she - clearly in charge here - gets his pen ready to write a new story. With that, she takes him in her mouth and works the magic she’d been known for in recent weeks, plus maybe some new moves that may or may not have to do with girl talk on girls nights.

Either way she keeps this going a minute or two while reaching for her purse and he hears the package tear, then she gently bites the end and suits up his little fireman.

“You ready?”

“You tell me.”

“Gimme gimme.”

So he hunkers down, moves his jeans down to his ankles and tries to find a position, then remembers this couch is on the low side and gets inspired, pulls her knees up over his shoulders as she makes the coupling arrangements, rubs it around, he can feel the warmth and she’s wet all over down there, smells wonderful mixed with that old perfume, and it’s almost too much.

Before he knows it he’s on track and gently eases in as she reacts, a mixture of familiar and new, and slowly starts the rhythm. She’s plenty deep and he’d never reach the end but she doesn’t seem to mind, and he gets the idea this really needs to get lively soon, and so he works it slightly faster, faster, then remembers his manners and works her fun button some with his thumb, but then, it seems more right to hold her hands. 

It’s about now that something sets in, he’s nowhere near ready, so we just press on, he reaches for the bra and just flips it up, seems the bold move she needed, so he adds some new moves, leans in to meet her mouth, bites her lip some, speeds up the rhythm, he strokes her neck and ears, 

“Don’t stop don’t stop oh Nicky…” then about ten seconds later, taking him by surprise she really lets out a hearty scream, maybe mixed with a fruity smelling burp and there may have been a puff down there, then she just slumps and he remembers he needs to keep her from sliding onto the floor.

Instinctively he scans the windows just to make sure no pervs are trying to look in, but it’s clear, once again quiet. So he decouples gently and gets her situated on her back, pulls his pants back up, then grabs a paper towel from the kitchen to at least dry her off some. Just as he’s trying to gingerly do that she snorts, 

“Sorry, “ then takes a deep breath, “Oh honey, did I black out?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Nicky there was nothing little about that, give me a minute.”

“We got all night babe.”

“Commere,” so she starts a long kiss that serves as a late foreplay of sorts, then as she regains her wits she fumbles for his fly, he assists, and before long that shroud comes off and she’s taking care of business while lying on her side and him still on his knees, which of course doesn’t take long but this time she keeps it inside her, probably wise since they’ll hopefully hang out some more.

While Nick recovers from that she freshens up in Noreen’s nearly-bare bathroom and seemingly has that perfume in her purse along with other surprises tonight.

So Nick also straightens up his look and doesn’t even think of previous escapades in this very bathroom, although he doesn’t care to peek into the bedroom.

Once back at the party Noreen locks eyes with his date and their secret is suddenly written all over her face, then naturally she pulls her expected shit, 

“Good boy!” with the same cadence as if congratulating a toddler on toilet training as she smacks his ass convincingly while walking past.

Deej clears her throat, “Howbout some cake now that we’ve had dessert?”

“And a beer.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

So they raid the spread once again and sit near a group this time, hell, there’s worse ways to get tired on a weekend.

Nick finds jazz for the ride home and Deej dozes off despite her determination to keep him company, but once again, this is a reset of course - not a redemption, but just, well, sometimes a space just gets re-purposed, like a rail trail.

As they walk into his house around 11:30  he’d already offered her the shower first and she’s not washing her hair yet and promised to be quick, he’ll just catch the end of SNL in the mean time, but alas, on the counter, they behold the sound mixer that Sam must have sent with his folks.

Our heroes look at each other like little kids on Christmas.

Rail Trail

July 1990

Nick is about 100 yards into a repurposed railroad alignment, freshly paved into a multi-use trail. He really wants to bring his bike up this way at some point, but today is for hoofing it.

About four hours ago was the graveside service for Paps, to be followed by a dinner at their church. Mixed in with all the handshakes, condolences, mostly unfamiliar faces and a few well-dressed females he caught wind of this new trail and arranged to take the wagon and check it out as soon as he could change into summer garb.

The sign says there are 9.3 paved miles to the next town, but as the asphalt stretches into a yet unseen point before him it seems he could keep going indefinitely.

It’s not just the things he wishes he’d thought to ask about the war, about radio, about life…it’s not just the feeling that they got the short end of the stick since Paps was only 71, and it’s not just wondering if he’d lived longer had he given up the pipe sooner, or hadn’t smoked hard in the service. 

Hell, Nick has no idea what it is.

Actually, yeah, the timing couldn’t be worse. Why is July a crazy month more often than not?

It’s hot today but with a kissing breeze, and the sun should fall behind the trail’s shade wall for the most part. Should have worn a hat and borrowed some shades for this, but no one’s paying him to think today.

Classes at EIT start in a few weeks, so he’ll just keep cranking all the hours he can stand for Bain and help out with tuition.

It’s become very tempting to find a way to loop Deej into all this, but its even doubtful she’ll be around for the fair this year since she’ll start moving soon, at least that’s how he heard it.

Tim’s about to head back to base, and Irene is not too keen on the prospect of him getting deployed to the middle east. Naturally Ned stays true to form in assuring that “they’d need a good use for him before that would ever happen.”

Of course, Paps could not have been prouder to have a grandson enlist, “You know the drill, give ‘em hell and have a round with the boys on me,” he’d say with a gleam in his eye as he slipped Tim a twenty on several occasions.

Nick sighs. How is it every other year involves some earth-shaking change - actually, there’s the ones you expect and then right along are some you never saw coming…

What he really doesn’t want to come to terms with is a strange...what do you call it? A far-fetched suspicion, just a sense of a hint, that Deej might want to be closer. How is that even possible?

This trail is marked every half mile with silvery spray paint on the asphalt, although the sign at the parking lot hints there will be improvements and upkeep as they receive donations, along with an address to submit said donations.

At any rate he’s now just at a mile and starts wondering how that translates to the campus trail or, well, howbout city blocks? Seems his mom had mentioned 14 blocks to a mile, or, well that’s close enough on a summer day. Thankfully years of cycling has drilled home the need to save enough energy for the trip back so…maybe three out and back, depending on scenery.

Speaking of scenery, so far there’s been three impressive coeds float by on skates, or maybe those inline kind; two leggy gals from the opposite direction and one just passed him politely, not tall but nice tan and solid muscle tone. But alas, Nick doesn’t share much common vernacular with these types so they just fade into the horizon. 

This reminds him of junior high track when some girls wore t-shirts that completely shrouded their shorts, making for an illusion that Nick, Vance and some others referred to as “inspiration.”

Now he can’t remember if he’d ever mentioned this concept of inspiration to Paps.

Ahh Paps, you wonderful crusty old fart. Now THAT is something Nick would relay to his face just to start a shit-slinging war, and the older they got the nastier and funner it became.

So now what?

Usually Sundays are the time to ponder that, but this is a special sabbath of sorts.

Paps had been expected to be around another year or two at least, and this just plain sucks. He even got away when that particular word slipped out in front of Gramma June; Tim had stared at him expecting hell to break loose but all their elders just tacitly sighed or nodded.

Nick had learned he’d be taking most of the radio gear and stuff, after the club guys had a chance to solemnly dismantle the station, which sadly had been collecting dust more than anything in recent months. He’d sensed a slight conspiracy brewing to have him take on the radio heritage at some point, so maybe he could try morse code before classes start.

This summer had been mostly work and the usual screwing around, although it feels weird, hell, maybe it’s best to get all the weirdness out of the way.

At this speed and vantage point, and even more so than from the bike, ordinary objects are highly intriguing, like an old silo, the kind that in early childhood he’d hope in vain was a moon rocket. There’s an impressive red-brick “I” house on an approaching hill, looks to be kept up and has a grain tower feeding several silver silos, not that Nick actually knows the terminology just used to describe it all.

His feet start to feel the distance at the second mile mark but he’s good to keep going. There have been a couple of serious cyclists whiz past on equipment that makes his old Schwinn seem like a toy. At first there were a couple of families with dogs on leash but they seem to stop a lot and may not even make it out this far. 

If he was expecting an epiphany out here it has yet to manifest, but one thing is clear, this expedition was the right idea.

Black Friday

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.”

Sweet Squeeze

Tuesday

Right on cue, Nick sits in Brenda’s chair in mid-morning and is increasingly convinced she’ll be mostly self-supported, at least for the near future, by lunchtime.

Yesterday he split between worlds and will do the same today, one way or another. 

For now, Miss Brenda sits next to him as the defrag runs, now that a bad file had been weeded out and corrected, evidently due to a power hiccup. It turns out she works for Walt Bowers Insurance, who represents a variety of insurers and annuity providers. So it’s a nice setup in a small brick building with the fancier molding decor and Walt’s office in the rear, next to another office for an accounting-type, who’s not in at the moment.

“So you can set it up so I just type something to do this, cleanup…thingy?”

“Yeap, once a week or so should be plenty, before lunch maybe.”

“Oh cool.” Brenda had already expressed her perceived inadequacy with computers several times by now.

Nick is still casing the joint. “So, Word Perfect and, any thing else?”

“That’s usually where I live, my predecessor was…well, older, and so she used that typewriter over there.”

Off on a corner shelf was probably a workhorse tank IBM Selectric beneath a cover. Nick can’t resist, 

“I’ll have to check that out.”

“Be our guest, I hate the <lowers voice> damn thing.”

Nick wonders why she lowered her voice since no one else is in earshot, but who knows, but picks it up, 

“Is this thing any better?”

“Actually I’m thankful, and I feel better about it now. How did you learn all this stuff?”

Nick pauses, “Let’s just say curiosity kills the cat.”

“Ohh kay?”

“Well, it kills at lot of time at least.”

“You’re funny. So have you talked to Vance lately?”

“Not since the golf day I think.”

“Oh yeah, I forget you guys don’t talk a lot.”

He grins, “Well you gals usually do that for us.”

She taps his arm, “Hey now.”

The phone rings and she takes some notes. Nick realizes he’d never seen her in pants, always in a knee-length skirt, which suits her well, very confident long-limbed packaging. After she hangs up she continues,

“Do you see that Curt very often?”

Nick pauses to muse at her phrasing. “Not really, haven’t run into him at campus but then I’m not there so much these days.”

“Well, the girls gave me a hard time for staring at him that night but I just couldn’t believe…that cocky, but I wanted…well, April seemed to need some answers and…”

Nick doesn’t want to weight in, just a knowing, “Mmmmmmhmmm.”

She pauses so he looks over and she’s studying him.

After a few eternal seconds he prods, “Yes?”

“Well - I don’t mean to be a gossip, but…I don’t know, I’m rambling.”

“You’re fine.”

“Nick - do you think I have a chance with Vance? Oh God that was lame -”

He cuts her off, “If he knows what’s good for him then yes you have a chance.”

Silence.

He looks over and she seems pleased. “Thank you, Nick, I believe you mean it.”

“Alright look…he had a shitty time growing up, that cramped apartment, he deserves a good chance.”

She pulls her chair closer. 

“A chance at what?”

Nick has to think. “Well, assuming you guys want the same thing…”

After a few breaths, “We’ve talked.”

Right then the defrag wraps up but he tries to stay on topic. After drawing a deep breath, “Well, good. That’s great, actually, and, all we really talked about was stupid shit, but…now that…well, seems he used to bring that up now and then, about marriage and kids, and I prollably changed the subject.”

“Prollably, huh? But that’s good to know.”

Nick acknowledges the defrag and exits it, then runs the defrag help command to see about building her a batch file.

“You seem to know all the secrets of this thing, I’m years behind.”

For once, Nick was ready, “Well, that phone call you just took, you wouldn't want to hear me do that, you’re so graceful.”

“Thanks, I try. Oh before I forget, how much do you need for this visit?”

Crap. Nick hadn’t really worked out a rate, but to base things on his salary at the school, which evens out around $12.50 an hour. At this point he was into a second hour and needed padding for the batch file, so,

“Is twenty-five ok?”

“Oh I’m sure it is, Walt’s in so we can get you a check.”

“Poifect.”

She giggles. 

Evidently the hope is to share a calendar among all office machines at some point, but Nick doesn’t propose anything yet, too much going on for the moment anyhow. Also at the moment, this feels really…well, cozy, they’re really hitting it off with a common sense of purpose.

But then, almost on cue, someone walks in as Nick is studying the screen and before he can look up, Brenda greets the visitor, 

“Mister Ted, got some juicy payroll for us?”

“Right here.” Nick recognizes the voice but keeps on typing, actually, he starts a dummy text file and types junk commands in it as his chest and ears start to warm up. He continues as she reaches behind him for an envelope or such.

“Well thank you sir.”

“Alrighty-dighty, see you in two weeks.”

After Ted leaves, Nick looks over at her with a wry grin.

She chuckles. “Umm, do you know him by chance?”

Nick sighs, then, “I think I, well, had to run him off a while back, he kind of interrupted a date.”

She laughs into her hands. “Hmmm…well I doubt he has many dates of his own to get interrupted.”

Nick just shakes his head and lets it float. 

“I think he recognized you, usually he sticks around.”

“You’re welcome.”

She laughs some more. “Want any more coffee?”

“Better not, it’ll make me nervous about Ted returning.”

“OHHHH my.”

Just before getting up to leave, Nick realizes that Brenda has stayed out of his field of vision most of the time, and that she tends to keep her chair a few inches behind his for whatever reason, not that she has any reason to be self conscious. She’s every bit as attractive as the other gals in their circle, actually similar height to Noreen with a nice build, straight sandy blond, greenish blue eyes, and usually wears a skirt and always well presented. But unlike what he’s used to, Brenda is simply not one bit nerdy about anything, confidently outgoing when the situation calls for it, like when she had April break the ice for this visit. But she’s got the traditional female sensibilities, actually, more like his mother, and for that matter, most mothers, and for that reason now life makes a bit more sense.

* * * * *

Nick wound up at the campus for the afternoon to tie up some ends, then came home to a quick shower before Deej got there for a stolen nap and to help with some leftovers.

After they moseyed upstairs she wants to check out a new curiosity he’d wired up in recent days: a compact, entry-level Uniden mobile CB with origins he can’t recall, but seems he’d grabbed it at a yard sale in recent years thinking it would be fun in the Cordoba then let it get buried, or actually, thought too hard about mobile antenna options and left it to future inspiration.

As it turns out that inspiration came in the form of rigging it to the antenna tuner to use the dipole array and see what happens. As he understands it there’s few specific laws on antennas (other than free-standing height) as long as the radio itself is FCC type-accepted (i.e. certified) and you don’t exceed the few allowed watts (i.e. four or five, depending on how measured…).

Leave it to Deej to find amusement in this, she hadn’t heard CB in years since her grandpa had one and wanted to hear truckers from the highway.

Nick kept warning, “Nineteen is usually all butts and elbows but we’ll see what we get.”

Actually, the road channel wasn’t terribly busy, but right away there’s a female voice, “Sweet Squeeze, channel 17.”

Deej is sitting there in her work outfit, one of endless combinations that never cease to amaze Nick as her wardrobe doesn’t seem that big, yet she shoots him a puzzled look, which hits him within a daze of her full-day of sweet musk.

Nick has a hunch, “She’s prollably at the truck stop…”

Her eyes dance for a second, then go really wide as she draws a breath, just as the radio pipes up, 

“Sweet Squeeze, gimme a hollar on 17”

Deej grabs the mic, “Hey fellas I hear Sweet Squeeze has a vein-er! So if ya really want a good time call Muffin Top on 21.”

Nick’s ears glow hot as the sun as she releases the mic and turns unimaginably red, shaking with silent laughter.

“Danielle!“ is all he can muster, just as Sweet Squeeze starts in,

“Honey I don’t know WHO the hell you are but I bet you can’t even sit on a bar stool yours is so loose…”

Nick peers at her in disbelief, “A VEIN-er?” 

Deej starts to fan herself and can’t seem to take full breaths. Nick gets up to crack a window.

Sweet Squeeze presses on, “Yeah you BETTER stay quiet - BITCH! Don’t let even me find you around….”

Unsure what else to do, Nick flips the dial up to 21, where it’s thankfully quiet. But alas, as if on autopilot, he grabs the mic,

“How boutcha there Muffin Top you sound pretty damn sexy,” in the dumbest drawl he can muster.

Not to be outdone, Deej pulls it together and grabs the mic, “Howout you come ‘round behind the Hideway and find out for yourself stud?”

At this point neither one of them can stay on a chair and slide onto the floor, heaving with guffaws, as we say.

Once they both start to calm down just a tad, the radio pipes up, a male voice, “Where’d ya go there Muffin Top, you sound like plenty a woman to go around there a-commown?”

Eventually she pleads Nick to help her to the bathroom before it’s too late. Given the circumstances he forgoes the urge to offer an eraser as a cork.

Closure

Sunday Morning, November 22, 1992

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF SABRINA KAITLYN STAAS

October 12, 1970 - July 19, 1988

AND TO ALL OUR BELOVED STUDENTS WE LOST TO AN UNTIMELY PASSING

Nick and Deej stand before the granite stone in the small flowerbed in front of JHS, leaning on each other and sobbing mercilessly. 

He had hit a wall.

Yesterday had been a slow start but he headed out to Fred’s to hone out a glitch in the server that had bugged him all night, after which, it finally felt like a weekend. They have been letting it burn in and things are still ahead of expectations, should be able to deploy next month then fully cut over in the new year.

Deej made good on her mission to do a basic self-defense/exercise session with the gals, with a good turnout including some of the home group and, yes, even Miss Noreen. 

After that, Nick made good on his promise to assist with music, as he’d ended up hanging on to Noreen’s bass and amp on extended loan, since she figured it would serve a better purpose with these screwballs. Since most of the selections are guitar-friendly it’s generally not hard to just follow the same chart as Sam, although she practices quite a bit more.

All this went down at the usual church rec room they rent out for Saturday activities, although during the non-musical portions our power couple mostly hung out in the kitchen. She really did sense Uncle Frank was “circling the block” and it just seemed right to just chill to some silly TV in the evening before she went home.

But through all that, Nick knew what he needed to do today, and finally come clean. 

He had insisted on picking her up and requested they try for outside stuff today, but on the ride over he couldn’t seem to say much and they just held hands, and now, in a light drizzle, it finally comes together.

“So you were close to her?”

“Lab partner the year before, then we got to hang out a couple times before the trip.”

More sobs and silence.

Finally Nick sighs. “I didn’t want to have to choose.”

She looks over at him, “Nick…”

He sighs again.

“Sweetie it’s okay, I get it.” She pauses, “When you feel better, tell me what she was like, OK?”

Nick draws a breath, “Let’s just say…” and then relates the legendary rendition of Smoke On The Water, and then his relating that, in turn, at the memorial.

She giggles as the sobs have let up some, “Oh Nicky.”

“Yeah, that sums it up.”

After a pause, she picks it up, “Well I’m glad you found a way to let me in, I got the sense something was up, that time at the fair, but things were weird enough back then.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“So…”

He turns to her, and can’t help a tad of distraction at how striking she looks after tearing, “Yeah, still wanna take a walk or too cold?”

“Hey I’m bundled up, just may need a restroom here and there.”

“Campus?”

“Where else?”

So they stroll toward his car on the nearest curb. “So is her family still around?”

Nick clears his throat, “Actually I just found out he’s up in the big town, but you might have had him if you take any psych/sosh. He’s about as mellow as a person can be. Tish worked at the law firm with Deke but wanted to level up so she’s going into law herself.”

“Wow, I mean, that can be rough on a couple.”

“Yeah, I’ve been quietly hoping they’d be OK, such nice folks, free thinking, so damn smart…they know so much about the real world.”

Deej lets that float, then sighs. “Are you surprised neither of us burst into flames during the service yesterday?”

“Yeah that was…different, but nice, good to be supportive.”

Once inside the Celeca and headed out, Deej picks up,

“Sam wanted me to sing up front.”

“Bless her, such a, well, not vile, but - “

“Yeah such a mouth like that and helping with worship, although, well, at least she’s not hypocritical about it.”

He snaps his fingers, “This is true, the group seems to accept folks where they’re at.”

“Lucky for you so do I.”

Nick slowly looks her way to see one of those freaky grins that Sam does, then shakes his head.

“Wanna stop in on your mistress?”

“Why not.”

So he turns down that road and she touches his face. “Nicky I’m…not to get all girly, but, I’m thankful you shared this with me today.”

“Yeah…oh, I’ll show you something back at the house, haven’t looked at it since…well...”

“Gotcha.”

At Dawsons' they find Miss April on her bed hitting the books, probably the big term assignment; she only took a few credits this term to focus on roofing but will pick it up in the winter. She looks confident today, definitely growing her hair out a bit longer.

“Keep this up and you’ll be outta my league,” he prods.

This doesn’t even get him a look, she just locks eyes with Deej as they silently plot his eminent demise.

Deej catches her up on the weekend as Nick looks around, he’d never seen her space but it’s aptly efficient and not a thing out of place. 

Pretty soon April fires, “Don’t TOUCH anything.”

Nick casually faces the other way and places a finger on his right buttock, which Deej promptly kicks the same spot with pinpoint accuracy, without any regard to his poor index finger.

April manages to channel her laughter into a saucy taunt, “Alright, big guyyy, you have an assignment this week.”

He turns around, “Really now.”

“Brenda needs someone to look at her work computer, here,” then rips off half a piece of notebook paper.

“Do I have to memorize this and eat it?”

April looks at Deej to toss her the question. Deej grins, and in a patronizing tone, 

“Not if he finishes his peas and ka-wots.”

Nick and April somehow join in unison, “Awwwww.”

Deej picks it up, “We’re gonna go for a walk or something…” then they go over their week schedule heading into Turkey Day.

At this point the plan calls for Thanksgivings with grandparents, of course the Swansons will trek north (Tim understandably heads to the Quads with his gal) then the Eversoles will host when Nancy’s parents get to join, and Nick will try to meet them at some point since they’re camping out in the living room – they bring their own cots! How efficient.

Before heading out out the girls hug as usual, then Nick nearly gets pulled onto April’s bed - she sure knows how to keep her antics on the annoying side, but it’s a taste of his own medicine.

Back in the car she prods, “Look at you getting business left and right.”

“Doesn’t anyone else in town do this shit?”

“Maybe folks just trust you.”

Nick just grunts, as he doesn’t relish the fact of servicing a lot of clueless tech users, but then, Brenda gets special consideration.

“Want me to go with you to her office?”

“If it works out, but I should be OK.”

She reaches for his hand as they continue to campus.

Almost out of habit they head to his office and the fresh burst of energy nearly catches him off guard, although he may have sensed it coming on just a twinge. She sits on the edge of his desk, the lights stay off and they get to the point of rubbing jeans and heavy breathing before someone’s tummy growls. After a couple more huffs, 

“Alright sport, is the snack bar open?”

After a couple more pecks on her neck, “I’m broke.”

“Bull-shit.”

“Yeah they’re open.”

“Mmmmm hmm, howbout we leave some sugar for dessert…”

“Let’s go.”

About then a song from the old nighttime FM106 lineup comes a hauntin’ from latter day Molly Hatchet…I’m just a satisfied man.

They really hadn’t gotten much alone time this week but it’s understood weekends are set aside as much as possible, and despite the gloom this feels just right. As they depart the Tech building Nick gets that twinge that’s been creeping in lately, where he wonders when he’ll be finished here. He had never really warmed up to the idea of lecturing, which had at one time seemed intriguing, but lately it’s clear that things are taking a different shape, so we’ll give the freelance thing a chance. He really would like to pursue a bachelors at some point, but as always, anything’s possible.

A couple of the folks from his general EET group were continuing on at the U, something Nick hadn’t locked in on just yet. Fred sometimes hinted that a business degree would do him some good but at heart he considered himself an engineer – but not the kind that fit into any particular, well, at least traditional academic discipline except maybe electrical, well, sort of. But he’d like to pursue computer science at some point, for what that’s worth.

But for now our heroes lock pinkies, he in a dark blue hooded slicker and she in a clear poncho over her cute faded-pink hoodie, and trek toward Gelding in a thinning drizzle but thankfully no breeze. It feels like the deal will be to assess the situation after some chow as for a walk, at this point he still hopes to hit the trail despite any mud, sounds like an adventure.

They reach the snack bar which is the usual level of sparse for a Sunday, and Nick does a cheeseburger this time, she’s hungry enough for a hot dog and they split fries of course.

Once in place he initiates locking of ankles, then reflects.

“So, how many weeks since I brought you here from Dawsons’?”

She pauses and flashes a gaze that hints he landed a good one. “Nick…”

“For the record, this is the way it should be.”

She draws a breath, “Nick you’re going to get me choked up in here.”

He pauses a few seconds, takes a bite, then once it’s down, “It’s been crazy, but you keep me centered, just like always, just, well, from up close.”

She sets her hot dog down and grabs a napkin to dab her eyes.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to say.”

“And just like always, you sure pick your moments. I keep waiting for you to slip me a tape under the table.”

They laugh and go on munching.

Once the tray is busted they agree to drive to the trailhead and see how far they get, and so, about 30 feet in the nostalgia kicks in and it’s clear they still have the magic. Thankfully this is autumn and so dampness doesn’t really cause mud except on your soles, early spring is when you’ll get caked and wear yourself out after about 100 feet.

After a pause for more sugar they walk on, and she ponders, 

“So you have a bass line for our little project?” 

The little project they cooked up is a track, actually, a deliciously cynical one, about a girl who lives in a house trailer with her mom. As for the music…well, Sam likes to geek out with oldies radio (now where’d she get that from?) while doing homework and came up with a playful melody in a major key. But then she caught on to the sound of Bobby Gentry and Jeannie Riley and their respective hits (although, understandably, neither Sam nor Nick are old enough to tell those fine artists apart) and so the hunt was on for that sound. After some digging at a liberry Nick was able to get the story straight and, as luck would have it, track down Ms. Gentry’s Ballad of Billy Joe in his parents’ dusty, forgotten stash of 45s.

So, one Friday night they sat with guitars and tried to find the sound, he knew to start with a seventh, but eventually, leave it to Sam, she played around and found the #9 to spice it up with a ill’ hot damn.

And as for the bass line, “Yeah, just a four-note riff kinda thing, notes in the chord probably.”

“She is totally geeked about recording that over the holidays.”

“Yeah, will be cool to have something mixed with that board then play it in the car.” The plan was to borrow the small mixing board from the home group and go through the track with Sam playing an electric, both girls singing the parts they do, and Deej with some toy maracas for timekeeping, and Nick on the bass. Since the bass can be direct, this setup needs just 2 mics but he hopes they don’t drive each other nuts in the process. 

Deej gives him a wry look, “Swanson why is that the first thing out of your mouth?”

“At least it’s not fish breath,” which, right on cue, sets her into a bawdy laugh.

“Umm, you’ll have to wait for that at this point. I think we have company.”

“Great...may you bear it well.”

“I don’t think you want me to bare anything right now,” stressing the intended pun.

“Alright, so…not sure I ever mentioned, the song, umm...”

“What about it?”

“Well, at first, the lyrics rubbed me the wrong way, until I caught on.”

She slows a little. “Why didn’t you say something, babe?”

“It’s…I probably never mentioned, but - actually, this is tied in with Sabrina…”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, her closest friend at school, Marci, lived in a trailer with her mom, but - “

“Ouch,”

“Well it’s OK, since they were nothing, absolutely nothing like that.”

“OK good.”

“Yeah, and after I caught on, and I hate to admit, her lyrics are pretty damn clever.”

“It sneaks up on you don’t it?”

“Just like Uncle Frank?”

She smacks his arm.

“OK bad analogy, but yeah, I can see it now - are we taking the long path?”

She pecks his cheek and veers them toward the long path.

Nick picks up, “...it’s really about the scheming, manipulative…”

“Yeah and it’s also about a mile down the road from us. The girl is a year behind Sam, GOD what a skank.”

“Yeeesh.”

“You don’t even wanna know. I swear those two are in competition, her mom is known as hot pants…”

Nick pauses and pulls the trigger, “Got their number handy?”

Silence, but he looks over to catch that wicked side-eye of hers, “Keep it up and I may feel the need to practice some martial arts out here…”

He grins, and they walk on. 

The sprinkles come and go but never seem far off.

She picks up, “So this Marci…”

“One of the coolest - smartest you’ll ever meet, a student council type, she was the one that had me do some yearbook photos, had some involvement at least.”

“Swanson I’m impressed.”

“Yeah it was fun at times, then my senior year someone else wanted a chance so I left it at that.”

“Do you keep in touch with Marci?”

“Usually Christmas cards, she went to a women’s college up by Boston, one of those, full scholarship prollably.”

She lets that float.

“So, anyway, to tie it all up, I got the sense that her dad was pretty worthless, she and her mom both worked hard and didn’t associate with males much. Marci and I hung out a couple times but, well, she…there was sort of a vibe, but anything besides yearbook stuff seemed out of reach, she tended to avoid personal topics, you know…”

“Yeah, understandable she’d have a guard up, so she keeps busy?”

“Very much so. I’d see her at the liberry more often than not.”

She takes his arm and pulls closer.

He changes gears, “So have your parents caught wind of the song yet?”

“Umm, hard no, and we’ll just keep it that way, got it?”

Nick keeps his lips pursed and blurts out “Mum’s the word” so that it forms a hummed cadence.

“I THOUGHT so,” then she fetches a peck and they walk on.

Eventually he showed her Sab’s letter; they sobbed again, but then roared at the vintage smut, so it more than balanced out.