SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM

The lab is pretty much full from a class that ended an hour ago, the usual bantering and someone's radio playing softly, the lab tech, Brian, and one of the MET (mechanical) students are throwing a ball through the open doors of his hallway-shaped office.

Nick is just using the space to make some notes for his C language course, and really wishing he could have taken it sooner to use with the RTTY project, but electives have to fit where they fit. The consolation prize was BASIC on an IBM AT that was not dead yet, even had a neato batch file to shut it down gracefully and park the drive heads. He was about to pack up and head over to the PC lab when, who else, the plucky blond in his life strolls in.

"Hey fellas, how's those papers coming?”

The expected responses, haven't started, dog ate it, the computer crashed.

"Yeah yeah. Have you seen Al around? I needed to drop this off."

Brian the lab tech pipes up, "You can leave it with me or, better yet with the receptionist."

"OH up front, with the dean?"

"Yeah they'll get it to him."

"Cool, good to know, thanks."

She steps over to Nick's desk.

"Hear any good jazz lately?"

"Yeah but it didn't remind me of anyone."

This draws a scowl, and her flawless Brit accent,"I blow my nose at you, you silly English knnnniggett! Your mother was a shrew and your father smelled of elderberries! " then the raspberry while she tapps her head.

Then a male voice chimes in, "Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a pig-dog!"

Yet another voice, with perfect boisterous intonation, "We are the knights who say NNNNNEE!"

Followed appropriately with a chorus of random answering NEE from everywhere. Noreen just looks around beaming, having found her muse. Nick joins in but feels at disadvantage at being rusty with Python, hadn't seen Holy Grail since high school, the mythology teacher would show it just for shits.

Somewhere in the midst, the same screech, "How can you have spam, eggs, sausage and spam without the SPAM?"

Noreen: "BUT I DON'T LOIKE SPAM!"

And of course the resounding chant starts up, "SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM" and she marches out in time.

"Nick aren't you kinda seeing her?"

"Aww leave 'im alone"

"Boy you're gonna have your hands full."

Nick just grabs his notebook and bag and heads to the door, "Alright I'm gonna go talk to a computer."

The room explodes with laughter he can hear clear down the hall.

Dinner Concert

The dining hall looked like few of them had seen it, tablecloths, place settings with napkins. It had been a decent weather day so no need for Nick to wear his dad's topcoat, just his hallowed Penny's suit from a road trip and his choice of the old man's ties, which also included some of the old old man's ties at this point. You can't go wrong with black wool, two piece, and the tie had a nice silvery diamond pattern with a metallic red.

Their table was toward the back as Goody figured it would keep the pressure off of them some and allow for a little bantering. "You clean up well, Mr. Swanson!" he chides.

He was one of the first ones there, as it's always nice to let the crowd fill in after he gets somewhere. Basketball Dave is there, and Bruce with his wife, quite a bargain of an evening for just one ticket. Nick found it invigorating that the average age on this campus was 28 as many were non-traditional students that had been laid off from somewhere, or else, just starting afresh once their kids had gotten older.

One time back when Nick was doing campus tours for admissions, he was showing around this kid and his grandma. They had gotten to the Koch building that contained the library and the med tech departments, such as EMT, Radiology, Dental Hygeine, etc. Since this prospect was looking at Engineering Tech they just stayed in the foyer for a quick overview, but then one of the 'non-trad' students that Nick had a couple classes with happened by. So Nick tries to bring him into the conversation, and after a couple comments gives ol' Ben a friendly jab. Ben just fires back with a very boisterous "AWWW KISS MY ASSS" right in the open door to the library.

After exchanging wide-eyed glances with his guests Nick pretty much decided that this kid wouldn't be enrolling anytime soon.

So he takes the spot next to basketball Dave and they catch up on automotive matters, as they both have '70s rides. Nick had been granted a decent looking '76 Cordoba in white, kinda dangerous looking, maybe even sexy, at least in low light. Dave had a very nice '78 Malibu with the 305 that had some punch, just riding around the parking lot it would set you back in your seat just enough to count. His 318 would probably need some attention to get that kind of curve, but that would have to happen in a different season.

As the tables filled up, the U music director, donned in a tux and tails, took the mic to welcome us all and point out that dinner would start in a few moments and then in roughly 45 minutes we'd be instructed to turn our attention to the orchestra.

The servers started showing up with their trays and distributed the greens, the veggies, the starches, and equal parts roast beef and marinated chicken breasts. It seems the campus has a very well organized catering department, everyone was impressed.

Eventually the mic once again came alive with someone's touch, this time president of Eastern Illinois Technical College extending welcome from the entire campus, glad you all could join us and we hope you enjoy the evening. Play ball.

Once again the music director takes the mic, this time with his baton in hand, as the musicians emerge from a side room toward the chairs and music stands on the platform. 

"Tonight you will be treated to a selection of selection of concertos from Tchaikovsky, Beethoven and others, as you will see in your program sheet. The program will last about an hour and 15 minutes, and we ask that you hold your applause until the end of the program. Concert master tonight is Dr. Gene Wu."

During this introduction Nick can't help but think that one of the violinists has a familiar hair color...and size...and gait, for that matter. That would be just his luck.

So the tuning begins, and a couple of his cohorts, only a couple of the group are missing, subtly try to match the lead pitch, only to earn the deserved exasperated looks.

Nick finally gathers the courage to look at his program. Sure enough, there she is in alphabetical order. He signals Goody to look at the same spot on his own program, and he just gets that familiar knowing grin in return. Nick rolls his eyes, alas, there's a conspiracy afoot.

The ensemble with a handful of violins, violas, and a cello fill up the room that one associates with a cacophony of voices at mid-day, with a lush and floral substance that one could almost walk upon. Nick realizes the hall was designed with acoustics in mind.

He feels guilty that his attention is magnetically drawn to just one performer. That confident grace he has come to know and admire has reached into another dimension. He had always known she was an artist, but he could not have been less prepared to behold the elegance with which she saws that fiddle and contributes to such a lush, vibrant, captivating sound.

This naturally brings about some doubts. So many things are in flux, and this is the biggest, and most exciting of variables, the ball on the roulette wheel, actually, this has more possibilities than roulette -

Enough, already, just relax and watch the lovely lady make beautiful music. He tries, but there's too much energy swirling about her, like the time his dad showed him how to look just beside part of an electrical substation you could see the magnetic lines of force, but not when you look directly at it. 

Besides, at a classical concert, at some point the eyes become of little use, and the mind starts to do the seeing. He lets them fall closed but she's still there, in the strings, the tempo, the harmony. The echo in the hall is the distance he might get to close after graduation. After graduation...a wall will come down, at least one would hope, he can't be certain, or logical, but...

Almost too soon he hears a drawn-out note and is surprised by the applause. He opens his eyes to see the conductor facing the crowd and the beginnings of a standing ovation, and before long his table is joining along. The performers take their bows and the director offers a word of thanks and dismissal.

Nick tries to not follow her movement with the rest of the musicians back to their cove. He looks around for a conversation but everyone starts to just clear out. He asks Goody if there's anyone particularly influential he should speak to,

"Oh if you stick around long enough I think you'll find one", and then looks past him, "Well I got all but two here, do I win the bet?"

That clear, lively, yet slightly - just a dab - chesty voice from behind him echos "Yes you do, I am impressed, where'd they all go?"

"Either to sleep or study, I'll take either one at this point. You guys sounded terrific."

"Thank you so much, they put us through the paces this afternoon but it was a good thing- hey,", she grabs Nick's arm, "there's someone I want you to meet."

Goody just grins as she hauls him toward the front and they exchange waves.

"What did you think?"

"I tried not to think. It was a beautiful sound."

"Do you enjoy classical?"

"More into jazz really."

She leads him to a mild looking couple, about 15 years older than his parents, and explains that her sister and law had brought some kids but they had to leave early, so then,

"Nick this is Uncle Herb and Aunt Sue."

They exchange hands and greetings.

"He's one of the Electronic types, their instructor got most of them here tonight."

They smile and nod. Herb asks, "Do you graduate this term Nick?"

"Thankfully, yes, 6 weeks but who's counting."

They chuckle and reach for a hug from their niece before heading off into the evening.

She turns to him. "Well will you look at this."

"I'm afraid to say..."

"Say it mister."

Nick is still quite distracted by the performance black."You look...amazing,"

Comical confounding look, "I look MORBID!"

He just keeps locked on her glowing eyes.

"But thank you."

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"Well....(leans in) I can't really pee standing up that well."

This breaks his gaze, as designed. He just shakes his head and draws a breath.

"Did they feed you guys at least?"

"Yeah we kinda just grazed, don't really want to go on after a full meal."

"Yeah."

He didn't know what to do except match her gaze, but that was overwhelming. It had been a long day since he got talked into working this morning. Probably needs to cut back, he doesn't need the money and it's getting crunch time, even though the project had crossed into the black his other classes were just getting into the thick of things.

"How's your paper coming along?"

"Oh, I don't think I told you yet, the other day I got perfect copy through the modem circuit, so the main part is working, that was the last hurdle."

Her eyes got big and she lunged forward and may have stopped herself. "Oh Nick that's wonderful!"

"Yeah it's a relief, all came down to the wrong capacitor if you can believe."

"I HATE when that happens. So you gonna have something for me to read soon?"

"I'm thinking week after next."

"Can't wait."

He smiled, "Mmm hmm."

The ice was broken, he had another complement in him, but they just gazed at each other a few seconds, and she looked away to think and he knew what was next, but then there was very brief look of disappointment,

"Well I should get going, gonna crash then have a full day grading tomorrow. And they call me part time."

"No rest for the wicked?" he blurts out.

Hands on hips, "Don't you ever forget it either." She steps closer and touches his hand, "Nick I'm glad you were here, it...it helped me up there."

"You made it look easy."

Her eyes did something different just now, inexplicable, just a lightning-quick flash of something as if she were fishing for the expression she wanted and hit the wrong button momentarily.

She finally responds, "You made it feel easy.", then looks down, "Good night Nick," and turns toward the side-room.

"Do you ever listen to the jazz, on Saturday nights?" He blurts out.

She thinks for a second then smiles, "oh, on that -"

"FM 91.7, one of the college stations."

"Sometimes it's nice to relax to, (looks around) sometimes in the tub."

He has to blink to deal with that mental image, then clears his throat, "I usually fall asleep to it, especially if I have to close the store."

"I'll remember that, might be a nice way to get these arrangements out of my head."

"And maybe think about who else might be listening."

She raises an eyebrow, starts to turn while giving a flamethrower of a look that's equal parts accepting a dare and plotting revenge.

He turns as well, escapes into the cool night air and into his Cordoba, dials in 91.7 FM on the SuperTuner, loosens his tie, and just sits a while.

Playlist

Suddenly and unexpectedly one Thursday afternoon, in the throes of a hectic and draining week, Nick's RTTY decoder modem started sending pleasantly readable text to the PC monitor screen.

After coding up a rudimentary conversion program to read the serial port and convert the 5-bit Baudot characters to ASCII, he had originally just gotten random characters when the phase-locked loop circuit was engaged. And then recently found a better TTL to RS232 converter that just uses a  Darlington pair (in a loose sense) of transistors which yielded about 80 percent correct decode, it was generally intelligible, but with a lot of new lines appearing abruptly where the letter R or D should be, and such.

To leave things at this level of progress would have been acceptable in many ways, since he had stipulated a 90% capture success for the project, plus, in real-world conditions there would be signal fade, interference and other causes for the character stream to falter at times.

But in taking a closer look at a manufacturer spec sheet he noticed a capacitor value he'd muffed, in the small print there was a decimal point that called for a 2.2 rather than a 22. After a quick trip to the stock trays he made the switch, reset the tape and there it was, plain as day, perfectly legible copy.

With a loud clap, "I'm goin' to Disney World!" he blurts out to a near-empty lab.

"Can I go too?" retorts a peer as he heads over to check it out.

Now it's time to show it to Goody, finish up his paper, and sign that appointment sheet.

He needed a lunch before afternoon class, and so did everyone else, and who does he end up behind, chatting away with a colleague, Deb Duntz, who had taught his mandatory Problems in Human Relations course. Deb was a bit different but it was an interesting affair, he remembers her commenting she'd heard that something or other was 'better than orgasm.'

Nick just lags behind and listens, till Noreen gets to "...oh one time I tried debate with a bunch of eighth graders and it sounded like a farting contest, I swore NEVER AGAIN -"

"You should hear our lab sometimes," he interjects.

Noreen slowly turns around and throws a look over her shoulder, looks back at Deb and points a thumb toward Nick, "Are we really going to graduate some of these types?"

Deb steps back and talks to him through the rest of the line, Noreen slips ahead.

*****

Anyone who concentrates intensely needs a diversion here and there. Over the years his escape centered around fiddlefarting with circuits or components or shortwave or audio. But now that electronics has taken center stage, well, the phenomenon of and around this bombshell of a life force has become more than some ethereal cloud of euphoria, it's establishing itself, could even start to resequence his DNA, and so this season of change concerns that which is far beyond mere vocation.

Nick even found the need to seek counsel, covertly of course. He never really talked to Vance about these kinds of things, and his brother was a non-starter.  It took nearly a week to get a hold of Danni, calling the college switchboard over somewhere in Missouri, leaving a message on her machine, tried back in a couple days but left no message, she had to be at least as busy as he was. But on Saturday he got the call back, she was home for the weekend and they met up.

After telling her just enough context to set the scene, he'd met a gal a few years ago that recently became a fixture, the connection is almost painfully obvious and they can joke about almost anything.

"I'm happy for you Nick."

"I knew you would be, but is it crazy, she's established, part of the faculty and here I am...yet..."

"What really matters? I was always struck at how brilliant you are with technical things, I can't even program my VCR to save my life."

"I was always struck by your natural confidence."

"It's a matter of prospective. Nicky, if this is making you both more than you would be apart, then embrace it, it doesn't come along every day."

Danni was now like an old war buddy. She's leaning toward major in Phys Ed, no surprise, but might lean toward Sports Med without having to rip out the sink.

And so, the only thing that makes sense is a tape full of musical selections. He's done this in the past a couple times, to polite reactions, but then, before it was just an excuse to do some dubbing. There are some songs that come to mind, as a defacto canon that has formed in recent weeks, and only a couple are not already in his library, and he has borrowed a disk and a tape to bring it together.

Medium of choice is a fresh TDK 60, with only the title written on the side labels, "Just Listen". The hardest part was making a box liner, this took about an hour in the computer lab trying to line everything up in Word Perfect then getting it right with a dot-matrix printer, with the "Just Listen" on the spine and just "From Nick" on the face. Traditionally he would have included a track listing but that tends to set things up, this needs to be stream-of-conscience, more radio, less MTV.

Then, find time on the laser printer that was available for resumes and finalize it. Then he would find some plain white paper to wrap it in, with just a dedication "For Noreen" on the wrapping, just to keep things discreet. 

And then, he would keep it handy for one of these chance meetings, preferably after the session where they review his paper. So far he'd gotten the tape made and the label file was ready to go on a floppy in his bag. 

As for the song selections...there's a temptation to play it safe, but then, nothing about this is safe. He can't say this is entirely destiny but there's a need to handle this with critical care, and so, well, this calls for total honesty, even if it's a tad out of his comfort zone, even if he can kinda hide in what's become a brand of tongue in cheek, in-joke innuendo that has been with them all along.

He feels she's been completely earnest with him, how can he do any less?

    1. Something To Talk About (Bonnie Raitt)

    2. First Night (Survivor)

    3. One Of These Nights (Eagles)

    4. Magic (Cars)

    5. Tumbling Dice (Stones)

    6. Come Again (Damn Yankees)

    7. Hysteria (Def Leppard)

    8. Mystified  (Damn Yankees)

    9. Don’t Stop Believin’ (Journey)

    10. Just Between You And Me (April Wine)

    11. Love Bites (Def Leppard)

    12. Strung Out (Steve Perry)

To note, barely missing the cut,

    • Have You Ever Wanted Someone So Bad (Def Leppard from a dub of a recently borrowed tape)

    • You Wear It Well  or You're In My Heart (Rod Stewart)

    • Love Will Find A Way (Yes)

    • A number of Queen tracks, like It's Late, too many great ones that almost fit, but..

    • He resists the temptation to include Plaster Caster, thankfully.

Since nothing can ever be cut and dry, the laser printer is a bit of a sore spot since he's thinking he needs to be sending out resumes. With so much buzz about openings there at the school and supposedly at his dad's plant, it has seemed moot thus far.

Just as his junior year of HS wrapped up, good ol' Emmett Bain had gotten Nick's number from a sales receipt after realizing he knew the catalog better than anyone who'd ever worked there. Bain finally closed the deal and brought him in part time, and had managed to keep in touch ever since. Lately Bain was seeming to imply he'd soon need a new store manager within a half hour drive of Jameson. Nick would respond positively if nothing more than to be polite, but who knows. 

Just The Newbie

 The lab had gradually filled up for the normal session of Interface class, taught by the excellent Thurgood Alfred Glass, who introduced himself as Al but goes by Goody, who is also the program coordinator for pretty much anyone in this course who is about to graduate the EET program this term.

"Alright, a couple of announcements first, nothing you can't handle."

About then, Noreen peeks into the door and Goody waves her in. She's holding a piece of paper and this is the first time Nick has seen her so informal, yet tasteful as always, in tan khakis that taper down to the ankles just above the black flats. She has her hair just clipped midway down the back into a loose tail, with a dark top in the middle and a beige turtle neck, and that winning, kilowatt smile. Her lively eyes appear a cat-like yellow green. But then, who's noticing.

He thinks he should start to get nervous.

"Looks like we'll start with this lovely young lady."

He continues as she does a curtsy, then folds her hands and mouths thank you.

"Gentlemen, seeing as all of you hope to graduate in the near future and are in the throes of your final projects, we're going to continue the tradition of having someone in the English department review a draft of your project paper. I suppose you drew the shortest straw?"

"No I'm just the newbie."

"Gotcha, well go ahead and introduce yourself and explain it better than I can."

"Thanks Al, yes, I am Noreen McDonnell and I’m new to the department, part time, but I am no stranger to tech writing, I haven't taught it here but I wrote manuals and did some editing freelance for a few years. So, for this class, or your papers, we will be setting up a time for you to come over to our office and we'll take a look for spelling, punctuation, grammar -"

"Basically to make sure it's written in English," Goody offers.

"Why...yes that would be fine too. So, um...I'm going to leave this sign up sheet, and, I realize these are not actually due for a while but we shoot for, what, two weeks out?"

"That's about right."

"Good, I'll leave this in his capable hands and I'll be looking forward to seeing all of you. Um, did anyone have any questions?"

Nick, feeling surprisingly courageous, is the only one to raise his hand.

"Not you!" she fires, before going into her favorite impish grin.

Undeterred, "Will we need to bring a red pen as a sacrifice?"

This gets a few chuckles, she looks over at Goody then thumbs over toward Nick. Goody just shrugs.

"I'll have you know that I have an entire cup full of fresh ones, brimming FULL of ink, so bring your worst."

Nick just grins.

"But seriously, I am sure these will be very thoughtful, well organized, you all have been doing this for a while now, so I'm just a second set of eyes."

"That's a good point, guys, how many times with, what, our circuits or programming do we ask for a someone to take a look, and it gets you there that much faster."

"Absolutely, that's a great analogy. Well, I must say they look so eager to run the home stretch, are you just workin' 'em too hard?"

"That must be it, some days I'm about to plug some of them in to the bench supply just to see if it helps."

"Well good luck to you all, see you in a few weeks."

"Thanks Noreen. "

She heads out and Goody takes center front.

"Ok, so along with that, I thought we'd try a new tradition this year. Since you will be stepping out into the world soon, many in jobs and maybe to advance your education, it's good to be exposed to certain things, um, to be immersed in culture, share a fine meal with your colleges in a semi-formal setting."

From the back of the room, "is there any of that within 60 miles of here?"

Goody grins and pauses a sec over the laughter. "Well you can find out soon. I'd like us all to attend the dinner and music the weekend after next."

Silence.

"Now, i realize some of you have work and family commitments, and please talk to me if you do, but I've arranged for free tickets, includes the meal. We'll all dress in our, well, basically our interview clothes for the evening. Yes, it's a classical concert but many of the school leaders will be there, and need I add some influential folks who are part of the job market you are headed into. Questions? Comments?"

After a few seconds, Tall Dave speaks up, "You know, I think this is nice."

There are a couple other affirmations here and there.

"Well thanks for that, I do too, and again, I can't say it affects your grade -"

Someone coughs on purpose, and Goody continues with a knowing grin, "...but it will help establish certain things about you, to yourself, and to others."

Looks around for any more discussion.

"Good? Good. I'll bring up more details as it gets closer and get a head count, but I wanted to give you a chance to set aside the evening if possible."

As the lecture gets underway Nick can't help but drift off station just a bit and think, McDonnell.

Lab

 The final quarter had begun, including the mandatory public speaking course and the even more mandatory final project.

Nick is the only one in the lab, hovered over a mag lamp which hovers over a breadboard covered in the expected mix of passive and active components, your chips, your trannies, resistors, caps, diodes an jumper wires that he habitually strips with his front teeth no matter how many times his poor mother advises against it. 

The project he chose was inspired by his dad's dad who loved to work the old teletype, RTTY, or "rittie" as it goes. He had found one circuit in a spec sheet and is attempting to marry it with another from a reference "cookbook" to match the TTL to RS232 voltages, so that the tones get translated into voltages that tell the computer what to think. 

He's so engrossed in thought, with some KISS playing on the old boombox he keeps in the locker for times like this, that he jumps a mile when the female voice, 

"Nick - oh I'm sorry, " before going into the expected giggle.

He sighs. "you can laugh but don't try to lie, you are NOT sorry lady."

She makes a 'moi' gesture. "You've been busy I see."

"I bet you have as well."

There's a brief pause as both look away, then she turns to his boombox. "...Plaster Caster? Grab a hold of me FASTER? What kind of filth young man!"

"Hey it helps me think."

"I'll just BET it does....you know I'm just busting you, I grew up on that shit, my brothers."

"Yeah I got one of those, Army actually took him."

"Heh, there ya have it. Can you use a break?"

"Always, care for a stroll around the lovely tech building?"

He stops the tape, she offers her arm and they embark. It's dinner hour for most so not many are around except for the computer lab.

She starts, "So...I have been thinking -"

"You're not the only one."

She smiles at him. "I just wanted you to know, when we first, um -"

"Met."

"Heh, yeah...afterword, the first days and weeks, I was pretty scared, since I didn't know, you know, how much trouble..."

"I understand, I was a tad concerned, but it felt like everything would be OK, I just hope it was for you."

"Eventually, once, you know (whispers) the cops didn't show up...."

"I never told anyone, in fact, I thought of it as a fantasy come true, the only soul I've told is the shoe box where I put the card."

She covers her mouth and almost tears up. He slips an arm around her elbows, then hears someone coming and retreats.

After the coast is clear, "Nick I don't think we have to worry about public appearances, there's no conflict of interest here, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable -"

"This is all just new, I haven't seen anyone in over a year."

"I hope we can talk more, you know, keep...talking."

"Noreen I want nothing more, it's getting me to the finish line."

She smiles the biggest he's ever seen.

"If you can say, how did you get the card to me?"

"Well...like I said, when it felt safe, I made the plan and contacted my friend. I hate to lie so I basically told her that a young man had paid me a very special and needed complement when we briefly met in the den..."

"And so she knew just enough to close the loop."

She smiles at him again. "It's all....like a fairy tale."

"Dear Penthouse," Nick blurts out despite himself and then covers his face with both hands. He peeks out with one eye to find her with arms on both hips, shaking her head and laughing silently.

"What are we gonna do with you Swanson?"

"I'm glad someone can appreciate my comments."

"Well eventually that will get you slapped."

"Believe me that's nothing new." He pauses, "I'm tempted to ask you something, but -"

"Anything."

"Um...(looks around)...did you ever get to...that night, you had to use the bathroom..."

"Oh God, (laughing) yeah thankfully I could make my way out of the house and find the gas station, then...oh you should have seen the place, I had to dance around lining the seat, it was disgusting, put a second layer on then couldn't hold it any longer, sat down and, WHOOSH."

"Yeah I bet."

"One tank was full and you filled up the other."

His ears glow red as a manifold and she squeezes his shoulder, he can only shake his head as she almost falls over laughing. It was a secluded space so she leaned on him.

"The other day, at the table you looked so...professional, so...professorial, it was though you were a different person."

"But I'm not, don't ever forget that, but still, thanks. I hadn't thought that teaching was going to work out, but now, who knows, I may even get my masters, they offer it here now."

"I think you should."

She grabs both his elbows, face on. "Nick, just don't be a stranger, more than you have to, OK?"

"I won't."

She leans in as before and their lips meet, a bit longer this time. "Go back to your filth."

"Go back to your tales."

Noreen turns and wiggles her butt at him then half runs down the hall. After staring into space during about two more KISS tracks he's able to get back to his rat's nest of a breadboard.

Noreen

 March, 1992

It's dreary in the Midwest, cold, breezy, and damp. Heading to the campus cafeteria with a couple of the guys, someone passing the other way locks eyes with Nick. it's the same eyes he found that night of the Superbowl party, in a head wrapped with an earth-toned scarf.

They stand about two yards apart, after a pause he realizes the Daves are waiting for him,

"Hey I'll catch up -" and they continue on.

She's wearing a long denim skirt this time, dark tights underneath, bundled up in a parka with a well-loaded shoulder bag flung onto her back.

"It's you..."

"And it's you."

"Nick," as he reaches for a handshake, she does too, and they laugh. Her eyes dance nervously, he hadn't caught before how intense they are, greener now, that dress must have brought out the blue -

"Noreen."

Nick sighs and smiles. "Finally. Um...can we talk sometime? Coffee?"

She looks down and her smile fades into thought, "Three tomorrow?"

"How's the snack bar? Do you know -"

"It's perfect, Nick. See you then." and she gives another slight smile before turning to walk away.

Nick heads toward the cafeteria slowly, almost has to sit down, looks back and she has disappeared, how fitting.

He grabs a burger, they make good ones here, and finds the Daves.

"Who was that, sir?" asks taller Dave, a fellow electronics geek.

"Met her at a church thing a while back."  Thankfully other Dave started in about his tourney bracket, and since Nick hadn't ever caught the hoops bug that gives him some time to process.

* * * * *

The next day is a tad warmer and much sunnier by afternoon. Nick tries not to be too early, but doesn't want to be late. He slowly approaches the old Gelding Hall and hit the door at 2:51, headed down to the basement level, takes a deep breath and casually strolls in. Time to be completely real, nomatter what.

He doesn't even have to look around. There she sits, alone, hair tied back as he rememberes, with her bag on the table and staring at a book, with the same demeanor as any of his instructors. He approaches and she looks up as if halfway through a sentence.

"Hi Nick", she smiles, looking as though relieved.

"Hi."

"Please join me."

"Would you care for anything?" He motions to the counter.

"Actually not really, at the moment."

"Well me neither, actually, I think I'll get a Sprite."

She puts down the book, "I'll join you."

They proceed to the counter, Nick's knees nearly give out on the way. He talks her into a Sprite of her own. Two Sprites.

Back at the table, near the back of the nearly empty room, it's secluded enough, they sip their pop and sit in silence, not knowing where to start.

"Nick..." and she nearly tears up. He subtly reaches for her hand.

She laughs just a little. "There's so much."

"You came out of nowhere, like a dream." he pauses, "Then and now."

"I hope it wasn't a nightmare Nick."

"Why would it be?"

"OK...." she sighs, pulls out a kleenex and takes a moment.

"She looks at him and smiles earnestly. Look at your beard. I like it."

"Thanks, what there is of it."

She looks toward the window and laughs, more of a quiet giggle.

"I had stopped by that house for just a few minutes, I know someone who was supposed to be there briefly that night. But she wasn't, so I put my coat down and went looking for a bathroom before I headed out of town."

She pauses and he gazes at her face, she meets his gaze and continues.

"Nick when I..." he takes her hand again. "When I saw you sitting there - it's hard to explain."

"Take your time, Noreen."

"Something about you, just, and I had been thinking...wondering...here I was unattached and not sure if I wanted a family." 

Nick's blood ran cold, just as when he'd seen the card. He blurts out, "I still have the card."

That resets her chain of thought, she looks at him and smiled, "Oh I'm so glad you got that."

"Me too, it's beautifully done - sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's OK."

"If it helps, I'm not sure I want to have kids."

She sighs. "Nick, that's...the way things turned out, it was like a coin flip, as weird as it may sound, that night I realized the answer was no."

"Heads or tails, " he says without thinking, then palms his face.

He looks up a few seconds later and she is red as a beet and nearly hysterical with silent laughter. 

"Sheesh, Swanson." 

"Is that your last name?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

She shakes her head, "You are something else Nick."

"So, how is it that this is the first time I've seen you here? I've been in my program since two falls ago, except summer."

"Well, there were budget cuts where I was and so I got fixed up here to do some lecturing."

"In art?" Nick asks with a hopeful smile?

"Actually in lit and writing."

"Ahh."

"If I may ask, what are you taking?"

"Electronics Engineering Technology. Too bad I already took comp. Got an A you'll be glad to know."

"Very nice, who taught?"

"Dan Fulton, sometimes you might see us having lunch with him or throwing frisbee out there."

"You have to admit it would have been quite a shock..."

"Maybe a bit awkward, at first, but we seem to get along."

She sighs. "Nick I wasn't thinking that night, it all happened in a rush -"

"Same here." then he added, "but I would do it all over a thousand, a million times."

She blushes slightly, "We would get pretty sore."

They both giggle and look away from each other for a moment.

"I hope we can be friends and talk like this, Noreen."

"Aren't we doing that now?"

"Yes, but -"

"I know what you mean, and I hope so too."

"And I'm not just trying to, get...I don't want..."

She touches his hand. "Nick, it's OK. I think we are mature enough, and you are obviously beyond your years in many ways I must say."

"I'm 21 in a few weeks."

"Hell I just hit 27."

"That's perfect."

She turns out to the window, smiling out of his viewpoint. He takes a sip of Sprite, now nearly halfway gone.

"So what are you reading?"

"Chaucer...tales of merry olde Englande - have you ever?"

"Not yet."

"I have a feeling you might enjoy - here, let's see..." as she thumbs around.

Nick just admires her ardor.

"Ahh, here, The Miller's Tale, get ready." and she proceeds.

About half way through it starts to kick in, and he can't contain the laughter. "God, this is right out of Animal House."

"Isn't it?" as she tries not to get too amused at his amusement. She finishes up and they laugh together, then she starts finding where she had left off previously in one of the longer tales.

"So you are doing a class for the U?", as in, the university branch that shares the campus.

"Yes, every bit so, I went to college with one of the full timers, Dodson. I specialized in English lit as if you couldn't tell."

"Your accent nearly killed me."

She sticks out her tongue and looks down at the book.

Somehow Nick had downed his drink and she was still working on hers, and the clock on the wall must be wrong as it says 10 after 4. Nick remembered he has assignments and work tonight. That, and the pop was wanting out in a bad way.

"Nick, as much as I hate to, I should probably get my nose back into this, it's been a while."

"Yeah, I need to head down the hall and then back to the lab."

She gets up, leaving her things. "I need to head down the hall too now that you mention it."

They proceed on, separate bathrooms this time, he hurries to get it all out so as not to miss saying goodbye, washes hands hastily, barely gets them dry, rubs his hands on the sweatshirt under his coat as he nudges the door...and she's not out yet. He casually strolls to the window and hears a flush. Someone emerges from the womens' but not her, so he finds another adjacent window. The air is electrified. He hears her voice, 

"Thanks so much Nick." He turns her way. They stare intently at each other, not sure what to do. 

He lightly grabs her hands. "Can I get your number?"

"How about this for now," and she draws in for a kiss, it lasts about a second, they are both holding back, and that much is clear now.

After a couple more deep sighs they both back away from each other, him toward the door and her toward the snack bar.

Nick heads confidently toward the lab. Anything is possible.

Superbowl

January 22, 1989

The parsonage bustles with energy - in the other room. Nick hadn’t wanted to tag along. His mom said everyone would be so glad to see him. Maybe so, but life is not always a two way street. It’s a good sized house on a corner, boxy and practical, probably the first dwelling plotted out in the development, 4 bedrooms, three up, one down plus a little den which served as a study which is where Nick sprawled out in a Naugahyde chair.

He didn’t exactly have a headache but more of a leave-me-alone ache. Maybe it was the cold weather wearing out its welcome. He could care less about the game and was surprised anyone around here did now that the Bears had fallen out again. They had arrived a little too early as usual and Irene found her place in the kitchen, his dad plopped on the couch in front of an enormous bowl of Lays chips standing ready for untold wintery hands. Nick stood around as they all banter over the pregame commentary, then remembered there was a better option.

The past few weeks have been mostly spent diving into circuit projects and homework, holiday break was restful even with Tim back a few days, sleeping in, time at the bench, listening to whatever. Hadn’t talked to Danni in a while, she’s plenty busy, he could call but doesn’t. Vance made second string varsity hoops, Nick and Ned actually made it to a couple games so far, hell, it’s an excuse to take off work.

At the beginning of school year the principal held a quick assembly and shared an observation, that students tend to mature quite a bit over the summer between sophomore and junior, and maybe he was starting to settle into himself more, less need to socialize, or pretend to want to.

No one had thought to look for him yet and he nearly dozes off, then a female voice,

“Oh hi, didn’t see you there...is there a bathroom upstairs?”

Slender, light blond, thirty-ish and wearing a long blue dress, light makeup and hair in a clip with an aire of intelligent sophistication, at least in her own way. She has a sharp nose, distinctive cheekbones with bright countenance, looking around with purpose, gives the vibe of a free-spirited art tutor, absorbing world around her as she goes.

“Yep, it’s right up there I think.” Actually there should be one downstairs but he’s a deer in the headlights.

She starts up and looks back at him, with a captivating, ethereal smile that lingers just for a second as she ascends,

“Will you be kind enough show me?”

Without thinking, Nick hops up and follows her, noting just a hint of perfume that is not familiar, some hairspray, mixed with what must be her own essence, which hints she has had an active day.

Next thing he knows he is beholding her in the bathroom’s night light, she’s facing the window while holding up the back of her dress, exposing nothing but tender porcelain skin. As he gains his wits she softly gasps, “Please.”

He takes a breath and locks the door behind him, leaving the lights off.

Things seem to be moving in automatic, as if this was all scripted and he, or they, are just playing the roles. He takes another breath and she leans forth and pulls the dress over her head, as if to reinforce the invitation. He puts his hands on her arms, fearing his hands may be cold, but then slides them down her sides to her bare hips. She reacts slightly and he detects chillbumps on her buttocks, at first taught and pursed together, the kind that some may consider too flat, but they are wonderful and quickly give way to a long set of slender pins which magically bring the action a convenient height.

Urgency kicks in, his pulse races, for all kinds of reasons, then he looks at the bathroom counter and finds a huge jar of Vaseline with no lid, seems like it would hold a gallon, maybe the pastor’s wife uses it on her face like in that commercial, but who cares now. He undoes his pants and hears her draw a breath.

With a practiced motion he has his part lubed up, a part which is now characteristically semi-erect, then he thinks it best to prime the target. Left hand spreads the cheek and right hand glazes the donut, she relaxes her buttocks, draws a deep breath and whispers “ohhh”.

With his trousers at his ankles he is still able to crouch just enough to get things lined up; he inserts slowly in an attempt to be kind,  she seems relaxed and receptive, it’s quiet enough to hear the slurp. He is both alarmed and intrigued by her intimate scents.

Nick tries to make mental notes of the first time being in, not quite what he imagined, but not about to complain. It's so warm, the walls are very silky - as a dolphin’s skin? And - once he gets all the way there it’s as though is something touching the very tip. He draws back slowly. She whispers “faster”.

He speeds up just a little, a hand on each hip. As they start to settle into a rhythm he realizes she has started to massage around the front and moves her head about, gasping. He realizes he can explore so he reaches for a breast, small, but firm, and shrouded by a conveniently thin brassiere, massaging it slightly, finding the nipple, wanting to reach beneath her dress but it appears there won’t be time.

He senses a moist palm on his sack, and the light scratch of her nails was too much. Not since that weird Sunday morning dream back in junior high had he exploded as this, as he’d sprouted a roman candle.

He didn’t even have to withdraw since as soon as his leg cramp set in it just slithered out and dripped everywhere. She was the first to reach for the toilet paper to clean up, he did the same, and she went ahead and flushed both versions as he got himself put back together.

She draws near and pecks him on the corner of his mouth and whispers “Thank you so much”, then reaches for the door. Nick ducks behind the shower curtain just in case and she closes the door behind her. His rubbery legs almost give out so he just leans for a minute, takes a breath, and tries to decide whether this really happened.

Sometimes bravado takes the back seat. Sometimes the reasons aren’t so clear. This is not a time to think. That Deep Purple song started in his head and he has to grin, you know it’s non-confronting...it’s not against the law.

After a few more deep breaths he is certain there is no one else on this floor, so he takes a quick peek out the bathroom door to an introvert’s favorite sight, desolate space. He flips on the lights to become a legitimate occupant and washes his hands, naturally taking a quick sniff of the earthy aroma, surprisingly pleasant given what he had touched. He thought about cleaning up his lucky friend but that would have to wait.

He heads out into the hallway and back the way he’d ascended, this time alone, and quite relieved. At about two steps from the bottom he realized she may still be here, doubted it, but could be. With nothing to lose he plopped back in the chair and resumed his restful state.

But rest would not come. During the encounter he briefly wondered what kind of music she liked, maybe New Wave. Depeche Mode came to mind. He has to go look.

The main living room contained the expected crowd, mostly yapping and some staring  the TV you can’t hear, since there were no Cincy or Frisco jerseys worn here it was more about the “fellowship”. He took a peek in the kitchen and there were a gaggle of ladies deep in their own world, but none in a long blue dress. Somehow he couldn’t picture her mixed in with that cackling flock. The bowl of chips is notably lower on one side, most folks have scooped them into red Solo cups to consume. Smart. His legs are a tad less wobbly now but this is definitely all real.

They don’t stay past halftime, and his folks could care less who performs. On the way home Irene asks Nick where he’d been, safely out of view in the back seat he was able to grin, just as he had in the bathroom and mutter “oh just hiding”. Tempting as it is to ask his parents if they had met or seen the woman in the blue dress...nah, too easy to open a can of worms. Nick figures he can always talk to Deke if he has to, should light come to this, yet, it feels too much like a gift, not the kind that one looks in the mouth.

That same Deep Purple record has a title track, albeit in a different context, we must remain...perfect strangers. He’s pretty sure she was a sister or acquaintance of someone and on the way out of town, or such and such.

Ned had successfully predicted the Niners’ win before the start of the 2nd half, for what it’s worth.

Finally back at base camp, Nick decides to inspect the scene down there. It’s surprisingly clean, still glazed, he can smell all the fluids involved, then with just one speck of dark matter, an encrusted gem right on the hood. After staring at it he decides he has to, it’s the only thing he has to remember and prove to himself, he finds a folded paper towel and wraps it up carefully and puts it in the Trotters box. It was also a good thing his t-shirt was not much longer, but he’ll need to pre-soak the underwears before they can go into the laundry, but no harm done. Some things have gotten a lot more discreet since his brother joined the Army. As he showers he feels more complete than he ever has.

Anything is possible.

*****

A few weeks later a card appeared on the little table in the church foyer, with the name in an elegant female’s writing, “Mr. Nicholas Swanson”

Irene brought it to him at home on one of the first warm days of the year, beaming, “well it looks like you have an admirer” and pecks him on the cheek as she does.

The envelope is a deep mauve. After a meticulous incision with a picket knife along the edge of the envelope he finds the card is a watercolor of a bo-peep type girl in a blue dress. His blood goes cold.

Flipping it over he finds no markings as with a Hallmark or American Greetings, just blank stock. Back to the front, it’s very possible the card was hand made, and if so, very well done. It would seem the envelope is also homebrew.

After another deep breath, he looks inside. From a different hand than the envelope,

“You are a gentleman. I do not know your name, nor can you know mine. You surprised and invigorated me, and I shall never forget you.”

It rushes back in a flood, so many questions, so many things to say, and not sure he’d be able to remember any of them if given the chance. He had touched humanity at its rawest and found such a precious gift of unfathomable wonder and beauty. So much left to the imagination.

He looks at it for a few minutes then carefully stows it in the Trotters box.