Sick Day

Friday

Nick lies on a blanket on Irene's recliner after moving from his bed and fixing some cheesy eggs for lunch.

He had felt a tad drained after last night's escapade (who wouldn't) but then figured a shower and night’s sleep (by that point well assured) would do their usual magic, but this morning was still sluggish and by the time he got to the tech building door Sue happened to be right there.

"Morning pardner, you....ummm...gonna make it?

"Actually not so sure."

"Well then GO HOME, I'll tell your cohorts down there, see you Monday, if you can."

"Thanks, chief," and then pivots on a dime without giving it another thought.

After a trip back that seemed much, much longer than the one he'd just made he has the house to himself left with random thoughts as consciousness comes and goes.

First of all he should have realized yesterday was a setup, as his interest in carnal delights tends to peak just as an infection is setting in, it had always been that way, seems the most vivid scenes would play out just before the head would shut down and the body longs for not moving.

He had put off bathroom visits as long as possible, trying to let the micronaps do their magic. Sooner or later they always do.

Back in junior high he was also home alone with this kind of crud and spent the afternoon listening to some preacher interviewed on one of the big AM stations about explicit rock lyrics, he was a child of the 60s and loved the innocent stuff of that era, but still a good Baptist, and Nick eventually shut off the radio, went for a washcloth and thought about girls from school. 

For some reason he had been wondering if they would get a dishwasher in the kitchen, since Irene is thinking of going back to teaching. There's probably nothing in that one cabinet that can't go somewhere else, either Goodwill or another space, he can think of stuff like the old meat grinder that hasn't seen use since he used to put slices of bread in there only to grind them to crumbs and call it 'pies'.

At one point he sleeps really good and dreams about words on a computer monitor, maybe some kind of programming code.

Invasion of the Booty Snappers: aliens land and nail everyone in the ass with towels. Yeahhh.

He realizes he had spent a good part of last spring being afraid to see Noreen's feet for the first time, just, since she was a bit older, is the best way to try and say it. Sometimes he gets a weird heebie jeeb about feet stuff, but then realized when they finally got together in the jeep that day he didn't give it a second thought, she has cute bony feet, kinda long as you'd expect to keep her height from blowing over. This makes Nick chuckle.

Seems she's been doing a bit of grooming in the ol' garden lately, when he reaches for some morning dew there's less tangle, maybe that's the point. God it's nice to feel around down there and make her squirm.

It's starting to sound like a good idea to finish soldering up his RTTY circuit during downtime at work, seems it's better to look busy, well, BE busy than just wait for something to happen. 

Nick has been listening to the rig off and on still but is nervous about getting on the air, Paps always said that's natural, gotta be a first time for everything.

His first time with a woman seems like an eternity ago, a different lifetime. She was pretty hairy down there but she was pretty eager so she spread things out and boy was she ready that night, he pictured an IR camera, just glowing. Sometimes he wonders how she is doing, good ol’ Rosetta, now gone without a trace but the probably needed to start over and hopefully he helped in some way.

A few times he's listened to the contests, they really fly with the Morse code but after a while you can pick up on the pattern, sometimes they have a sequential number but sometimes it's their first name, then the TU, thank you? And then some of the contesters go slower and do a 73, which is hard to miss at any speed. That repetition must be key to it, you know what to expect and then can ask for a repeat if you miss it or the signal fades momentarily.

What he hasn't consciously admitted is wondering if they should be living together soon, or how he would bring up the subject, or if she would, or if her brother would come get him with a shotgun and make it easier to bring up. Even though it's only been a few weeks they are settling into a good groove; Ned has a daughter type around that he never had and Irene sort of has a little sister that she also never had.

Noreen has a standing invite to stay in Tim's old room and she wants to hang out here more often once school gets into a rhythm. Nick can't picture them living in her cabin, as cozy as it is, they would have to bounce back and forth. 

The comfort level seems to be that they don't actually sleep together in their normal space, but once in a while is OK. His parents respect their privacy but nobody is fooled, seems everything is going to some sort of plan and she can't conceive so it's all good.

But still, they can't go on living like teenagers forever. He would want a place for radios, there's no reason his bench would go away anytime soon. Goody has even hinted he could wire up stuff on the roof and maybe start a school club. 

For some reason this dude comes to mind who Nick had tried to avoid at first in the building, back around his second term there was a rough-hewn stocky fellow, unforgettably bold facial features, thick brown hair down to the neck, around 40 and just had a way of really sticking out. In time he realized this fellow was a top student named John and gradually started dressing more professionally, but there was still that blackhead. Nick's eidetic memory wouldn't let it go, the thing on the side of John's nose must have been close to an eighth-inch diameter, how much trouble would it cause to sneak up on John with a desoldering tool and get that sucker out? 

But then what would he do with it? He'd have to plan to run into the bathroom then not be able to look at it then just have to toss a perfectly good desolderer. One day all that hit him about the same time as some stupid toe jam heebie jeeb and he almost had to go walk around outside to recover.

As for the RTTY, old Baudot teletype that he had come to know and love, is still the main squeeze on the air, but now, not surprisingly, they were slinging around ASCII that had the full character set as a computer plus upper and lower case. So recently he had been decoding a bit of that here and there, mostly from the bulletin transmissions that are a repeat of the Baudot version but with prettier casing and without need for the converter class for five-bit Baudot to 8-bit ASCII since the latter is native to the PC.

It seems once he got his license he would have to try a bit of this on the air, at least on the highest band in his privileges, if he hears someone, great, if not, all the more reason to upgrade his license, and he wouldn't even have to wait for the FCC for an upgrade since you can use your certificate as a temporary authorization.

Nick had been saving money but a lot of it goes into the 'Doba, especially with two or three trips a week out to see his wonder blond. Might be time to think about something smaller, maybe front wheel drive to dig out of snow easier, unlike that time he got shoved into a ditch on a side road that time and had to knock on someone's door to call a tow truck then have the driver follow him to an ATM to fetch 35 clams.

Well one or more of his folks should be here soon so best vacate the chair and not give them reason to avoid it, the protocol is to quarantine upstairs but he put the blanket down so it should be OK. Nick finds the Sunday paper in the basket with the car ads, it's something to do at least.

As soon as he gets settled in upstairs, and after a good pee, the phone rings, said wonder blond.

"Oh sweetie did I make you sick?"

"Can't complain considering."

"Oh you sound awful. Can I stop over?"

"Like I'm gonna turn that down, just gonna look at some car ads."

"What?"

"Yeah might be time to downsize, you know, the old, well, not old gal-"

"Oh is it the gas?"

"Yeah..."

"Hmm....let me talk to my siblings before you make any decisions, kay?" 

He remembers how Bart always has his eye on it. "Ahh yeah, I think I smell what yer steppin in."

"Well I've been wanting something better too so you might end up with my Celeca for nothing if we play our cards right - WINK WINK."

"Well get your sweet hiney over here maybe we can play cards for reals."

"I'll bring you some soup."

"That sounds lovely,  not sure when the rents get back but they may skip out on us once they find out I'm like this."

"I have been meaning to call your Mom so if you need to rest more we can catch up, just lie there and I'll see you soon."

"Be careful."

So he hangs up and realizes that talking took his mind away again. He tries to lie on one side but something in his head burns like a stray ember, the other side won't work, he doubles up his pillows and that does the trick, usually the answer for sinus issues.

This election, anyone's guess, the old guard and this southern dude from little ol' Arkansas. He gets the feeling Bush doesn't really want the job anymore. The student groups are all about debates and getting folks to vote, which is great, but Nick can't really get exited one way or another. Ned has been listening to the afternoon talk radio where that guy bellows out about the difference between liberals and conservatives, is it all really that cut and dry, two camps?

Nick can't see himself in any group like that, especially after getting away from the Evangelical world. This Clinton has been on the late night shows and even played sax, he has to wonder, were earlier presidents on Carson over the years or just in the stodgy 60 Minutes or Barbara Walters kind of interviews?

Noreen says some gals find Clinton sexy, daring, maybe a bit unpredictable and that could threaten a lot of folks with the older values.

Eventually he recovers from the trek upstairs and turns on his light to look at some car ads. He had always wanted a stick shift, her Celica is automatic but it's been well maintained of course and it would pretty much come with a lifetime labor warranty. 

His head gets heavy once again so out goes the light, he enjoys the haze in the silent darkness, this house really is cozy, who knows how much longer he will actually live here, that seems uncertain but then there has never been a year like this.

What kind of ride is she wanting, something a couple years old to make payments now that she has a steady gig? It's probable there's a near complete rebuild in the shop with fresh paint and a low mileage power plant from a wreck and it just so happens she was going to swap that out for the Celica. Yeah, that's it. Seems there was a pickup sitting out for sale that made sense to rebuild and it seems the shop is licensed to scrap wrecks; if you do that kinda thing a lot it would be almost self-sustaining. Hmm.

Ned probably wouldn't have too much to say about trading the old fellow, it had served him well and they hadn't put much money into it, just some work like resealing the massive heads that time over Christmas break and geek out over using a torque wrench. A $1,500 car with 70k miles is still worth about that much two and a half years later with 96k.

Next thing he knows it's the doorbell, takes two rings to get him cognizant, we need to get her a key. He slowly gets up to let her in. 

He has to pee again; she'll understand.

Ambushed

Thurs Sep 24, 1992

Nick steps out front of the Tech Building shortly after settling in and then re-locking his office. Nothing and no one yet needed his attention so he took a walk around then for some reason headed out into the cool morning with wispy clouds. Some of the trees had started to turn, mostly in the distance. Now that the term has started he wants to be here about the same time as the earliest faculty and before most if any students. It's just nice to be the first, always had been, even back in grade school.

Out of the corner of his eye there's motion, and right away it's unmistakable, even from most of a football field there's that familiar gate, his gal, hunched over with two bags with determination to face the day even through two armies and a shit creek. She's wearing a plaid skirt and beige top and always seems much shorter than 5-7 in this state, she does tend to slouch a bit at times as it were. Smartly she's got on sneakers and must have office shoes somewhere in that luggage. 

Now, it's stricken him at times how he wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd as someone he'd get to know, a fine woman for sure, one that most fellows would call "alright", but to Nick she's secondarily a babe, primarily, it's her woman-ness, a mature feminine, like the actress that gets cast for a thoughtful, capable role you can set your watch by, maybe a Meryl Streep. You don't get overwhelmed by the visuals but if you're lucky you're in tune with the vibe, her needs, and that's where the trouble starts, bruddah.

Once she's out of view he heads back inside and takes the long way round for a peek at the robotics lab. He's talked to Glen Reeves a few times over the years but hasn't yet been brought in on any of the wiring, seems they still have a tape-punch rigged up to the mainframe as a printer of sorts to program the old CNC tools therein.

Nick sits back at his desk and tries to find something to fidget with besides a catalog or solitaire. Noreen just happens as she always does. Later on he'll go to her place and they'll be food and she'll probably take initiative for some sort of dessert. Something stirs. 

Wait a minute. Just because she's more mature in years and life doesn't mean she always gets to start trouble.

This takes on a life of its own as he writes his first name in cursive on the wooden veneer desk as he does with his fingernail, with an emphasis on making the letters diagonally to the upper right, he's right handed, with a curly thing to dot the little “i”.

It feels like someone will suddenly appear at his door but no one does. The phone might ring, but it doesn't. He goes up front to check for mail, there's none in his box. Seems Brian used to always have something going on but maybe it was just the way it appeared; the preoccupation was just in keeping occupied and trying to avoid pointless complications, pointless conversations.

He could stop in on the mainframe guys but it seems weird if he doesn't have a reason. He stops in on Goody and plops in the guest chair.

"Whaddaya know bucko?" Goody looks up. "Seems we should have our tickets within a month now."

"Yeah, that'll be nice. Been listening to more code here and there, those contests are crazy."

"Well it's all yours -"

About then King walks in with a question that doesn't involve Nick so he just sits there and tries not to think about what he's thinking about. Then the light comes on.

After King leaves, "Think it's alright if I bug out a little early?"

"Sure, kinda doubt anything would prevent that. Big plans?"

Nick struggles to find the words. "Well, just thought I'd surprise someone."

Goody catches on and grins, "Ahhh, roger roger, have a great time."

Back in his office Nick feels like he may have given up too much of the plot, or else be over thinking something, but as long as he can get there just before she does, well...

Evidently it's the norm to do a lot of waiting in this role, all the preparation is during the off-season, as it were, then it's pretty dry. As a student there was always something that needed done. 

At one point he hits the locker-room head and thinks back to the Whicker caper. The things you get away with as a student, just another patron of the institution, how going pro changes the physics, but man, that was some good game there, crazy stunt like that for a sophisticated gal, albeit, with a pretty crazy side of her own.

He's alone in there at a urinal and can take his time, squeezes the base of it a bit as if to make sure things are ready for later. It's never been like in those dirty magazines where it points up, just kinda bobs around at best when it wants attention, but seems to do the job when the moment's right. The door opens so now he has to pee through this bobbing monster and try to finish up as though he'd just gotten started.

For lunch he purposefully sneaks over to the crowded snack bar and grabs a to-go to enjoy at his desk, she might be at the cafeteria, or maybe at her desk, but this is safest.

Instead of the usual phone tag she catches him, "How's your day going?"

"It's bearable. Thinking I need to find a hobby."

"Oh really."

"Is the term taking shape?"

"Yeah I think so, I should have permanent rooms next week, and you know how things thin out...."

"Hopefully we get left with the good ones."

"One can hope. You coming out tonight?"

"Thought about it."

"Well I could use a neck rub, and I think Sandy is making a bunch of stuff we can mooch."

"Mooching works." He tries not to grin and just sound kinda out of it. Neck rub, eh?

"OK, you sound tired, everything OK?"

"Yeah I'll catch you up on the family stuff."

"Oh, yeah, well I'll get home around 5:30."

"Sounds good hon. Be careful."

"I will, you too, behave." He can hear the smile in her voice and good ole Bugs comes to mind, 

"BYEEE-EEEE"

By 4:45 the building is near desolate save the night class folks, just lectures tonight so no surprises. Nick carefully makes it to the 'Doba along a vector that should keep him hidden in case she's up to an early egress as well but no sign of her, or her car, but this still feels like the inner track.

On the way out he remembers where she keeps a spare key behind some tree bark and ponders where he could park out of the way and sneak in, but then that would feel pretty weird; he's never been in the cabin without her and it would seem rather intrusive, even at this stage. 

He thinks back to the Def Lep show when they played Make Love...Like A Man...

After a drive that seems longer than usual he pulls into the drive and can't decide exactly where to go, so he just parks in the normal spot, shuts it off, and right then there's the tow truck bringing in some business so he gets out.

Bart yells "HEY DUUUDE" out the window and stops to BS for a minute, after which, yes, she pulls in.

Bart waves and pulls on to the inner sanctum and Nick gets ready to carry her bags in. 

She parks and steps out, "Well well now." He gives her a squeeze, especially around the waist. She says nothing more.

"You got stuff to carry?"

"Just me."

So he scoops her up and nudges her car door shut, sets her down so she can let them in. 

Once inside he makes sure it's locked, and starts nibbling and licking wherever he can.

"Sweetie at least let me freshen up."

Nick just scoops her up again and plops her on her bed and gets on top of her.

After a bit more of the same, just horizontally, she squeaks out, "What do you want?" 

"I want you," Nick offers, keeping a rhythm. At this point he's felt just about everywhere at least once.

"What...do...you...want," emphasizing each syllable this time.

"Pussy."

Her breathing gets a bit erratic. "You keep this up you're gonna blow my fucking mind."

This brings to bear some images he doesn't like, just the way it goes sometimes, but he just pulls her skirt off then starts unbuttoning her top, she finishes the buttons and he loses his pants.

At one point he gives her a decent bite on the cheek then, realizes she's wearing the full wrap-around pantyhose that she would have gotten free from had he tarried, so he just pulls them up, finds her amply ready, pulls himself out of his shorts and gently slides home.

She grunts and nearly stops breathing, so he starts the chug, those fine legs on each flank, she smells wonderful, like a full day that he caught off guard, and then, the phone rings, she just grabs his shoulders almost painfully.

"Don't stop...don't...ever...stop..."

He keeps up the pace as she writhes about, his capture, her bra is still on, 

"Show me your tits."

She fumbles to pull her bra away from its bounty, they jiggle just enough and he gobbles them whole.

The machine picks up in the next room, sounds like Sandy's voice.

"Oh baby give it to me, harder,", she bites her lip and he chugs harder, actually worrying she will bite through her own lip at first but it gets the best of him, it's closer, 

"Fffffffffff...fffffuuuu...ffuucccck..." as she flops around, and he feels a warm flow, remembering he hadn't given her a chance to go to the bathroom, so there it is, this is too much, and he joins the flow heartily, but, alas, she's wilted lettuce. Elvis has left the building.

Well this is awkward. Nick has to fight off the sense this is a violation, how can she get so lost before the cannon goes off? Had he really worked himself out of a job? 

What a mess, he surely didn't mean to do this to her bed. After contemplating, he slips up and finds a clean bath towel, hell, make it two, cleans himself then carefully lifts her seemingly burlesque-outfitted middle to get one beneath her then tries to towel off what he can. No use redressing her, she has drifted off to who knows where, not a care in the world, nips still alert, but maybe she's cold. This is almost a disaster, he grabs the afghan from the couch and covers her up, trying not to get their fluids on it. Will she be mad when she wakes up? 

Embarrassed?

Nick tries to lie next to her, unsure if for his comfort or hers, but she's in the middle of a twin bed and he doesn't want to make her move. Several eternal minutes pass by. He's too aware. 

Finally he goes out to play the message on the machine, Sandy says whenever they want to come over for sups, beans and ham tonight and corn bread. 

He strains to remember the number to their house and Sandy picks up, he asks if he can do a to-go order since Noreen is pretty tired from the day, and of course that's fine, he's a sweetie for doing that, she'll have it ready. 

Back in the bedroom he pecks her forehead gently as a test, she barely stirs, so he trousers up and sneaks over to grab the grub, comes back to find her in the same state. He sets dinner in the oven and lies next to her, she scoots over and draws a breath in the darkness.

"Sweetie."

"Yes dear?"

"What....what brought this on?" He can hear a smile forming, he kisses it.

She persists, "Nick, seriously."

"I was standing out front and saw you across the courtyard this morning."

"Is that....so, now. And?"

"That's it."

She inhales deeply again, and in a throaty timbre, "I'll have to walk that way more often..."

"Was it like the fair?"

"Hmmm," with a guttural growl, then eventually, "that sent me to the moon, this was like...Mars."

"Well I got some venus for sure."

"God you're an asshole," through an obvious smile, but before Nick can think of a zinger, "we need to get cleaned up for dinner, you'll have to carry me again."

"Dinner's sitting in the oven."

"What? How?"

"Told Sandy you were tired and she was glad to wrap some up."

"Oh, Nick...."

"That's me."

"Sorry I pissed everywhere."

"Well I didn't really give you a choice."

"Am I complaining?"

He leans in and they snog a bit, then he slowly helps her to the bathroom, where she checks the mirror with one eye,

"Good lord! I'm right out of Rocky Horror Picture Show - just for this you're renting it and we're watching it, you daft...TURD!"

Then they shower, find The Simpsons on a new evening lineup and have a wonderful supper.

Sister Act

Weds Sept 23, 1992

7:42 am finds our hero looking down at his lap. This manure-brown cloth-covered five wheel swivel-ly chair has had a lot of asses in it, now his average-build slightly slender sit-upon occupies it. There would have to be some kind of upholstery cleaner in the supply closet and why didn't he think sooner to give it a good douse on a Friday then use the shop's shop vac to move HIS ass to the top of the list. But then, for all he knows he might get to inherit a better chair and then have to start over. 

To come to terms with all this he gets up and roams the building. Seems so formal with all the lights on, stage is set, ready for company. A few folks who got a good parking space are in the lobby areas, as he once was, staring into space or getting a head start on a textbook. One of them is zoned out with walkman headphones on turned up loud enough to clearly hear from a few yards away.

Goody and Norm are jawing in the hallway, they all have on their nametags.

"Well Nicko if nothing breaks today it won't be a first but stay ready, especially the 6809 stuff."

This was the second year using Gateway 486-DX25 in the small microprocessor lab, and these are finicky enough to go way into left field from time to time. Brian had set up a security scheme and even used special characters from the Greek alphabet as a user name, fun act to follow, so this was going to be the weakest link this term with the micro fundamentals class running simulations until they get their wirewound-pole interface boards ready to plug into a real deal 6809 on the lab’s center island. Worst case is someone would have to double up (or double-double up if they're already teamed) while Nick tries to untie some knots in DOS.

So he heads back to his office to, dunno, fire up some solitaire until it's time for the round of introductions in each class, will be fun to see if the instructors will have any new zingers ready. On the way through the scope lab he gets a warm chest whenever seeing one of those Gateway moocow boxes storing stuff here and there, he's hoping to score one next time they get a new system in, maybe when they refresh the PC lab down the hall, who knows.

The morning goes as planned and he's relived there aren't any female students that would prove, well, distracting, throwing a vibe, that gets so old when it's unwelcome. There's only one female and she seems to be a collected, thoughtful mom type, all business but mostly cool, almost a junior Sue.

At one point King G asks him to check on something with the computer lab and he finds Alan and Jeff at one of their desks looking at a a screen. Nick just stands there at first to assess the situation.

"Atttennnn-HUT"

Finally Alan looks up, "Hey man what can we do for you?"

"The usual, GK wanted me to make sure we're all set for the 223 group."

"Ahh, yes, got his list right here, want my notes?"

"Sherbert. Put it on my tab."

"Right ohh....OHHH did you see that strawberry blond in the OA group?" Office administration surely attracts the ladies, although, seems the dental hygiene group gets the finest, if you're into that kind of thing.

"Tight curls? maybe, those zoo parades they bring through all run together after a while."

"Yeah that's the one, too bad they won't be doing anything on the frame this quarter."

"Come to think of it, I think i did hear her say she was hoping some stud could reset her password soon." Nick has to hold his expression, he doesn't know where that came from, maybe a normally recessive gene of his brother's ilk suddenly woke up. Jeff busts up laughing but Alan just covers his heart.

"Dude!"

Nick just grins, "Alright gents, later days, thanks for the good word."

So he heads back to his cubbyhole and feels half vindicated and the rest is kinda like, as a kid, when he'd stepped on a cricket and immediately regretted it. He doesn't like to inflict harm but when that little shit likes to eye the ladies but never has a girlfriend, well...anyway. 

He takes his seat and tries to find something on which to focus, but nothing needs done, computer games are stupid, and he'll want to grab lunch in a bit but no longer feels comfortable leaving his office unlocked as he has been. This is the first time he's thought about it, hell, if any of the faculty need something they have a key, not that anyone would do anything harmful but why tempt it?

Just the thought of taking a sip of coffee and finding it tasting like washroom soap would be a loss, not that he wants to go on the offensive, just, crap, who knows, this is just weird. In this gig you spend all summer getting part of the school ready for school and once school is in session you have to share the space, so maybe there's still some sanctity to be had, but, just scaled down. He could always lunch in his office with the doors closed but then someone could knock, might be Noreen but then might not and he'd have to see what's what.

Speaking of Noreen, he tries calling her, lets it ring the three times before the assistant picks up then forgets it. This being the first day it's a good idea to sit with his department and stay in the loop, at least today, for solidarity until things get into a rhythm, so when they get ready to head over he locks up and goes with, and they manage to find seats and Nick grabs the last fish sammich that looked lonely there by itself beneath the heat lamp.

Once they sit down Nick can't resist, "So those heat lamps to keep the sammiches warm, do those emit enough UV to be a cancer risk?"

The instructors look at each him, then each other, Norm finally speaks up, "Better keep sunscreen handy before you reach next time."'

GK gets serious, "Pretty sure those are so red they won't have hardly any violet, the idea is heat, not killing germs."

"What if I want a germ-free bun?"

Goody: "Ask for some Lysol."

And so it goes.

The afternoon set goes as planned, 2 introductions at 1, nothing at 2 so he chills for a bit. Right before the lab starts at 3 he thinks to check for mail, might be a catalog, and finds two messages, one from Noreen, one from his dad to call him at work. The second of those can't wait, he asks GK if he can have a few mins and that's fine of course.

Ned is at his desk. "Hey, sorry to bother you."

"No problem, should I be scared?"

"Just know your mother is very upset and may not be feeling up to cooking, or well, even eating much."

"Is she okay?" Nick realizes this is a dumb question, then adds, "I mean -"

"Well, she got a call from Betty Parish, not sure you ever met her, she's one of the long-timers at Faith."

"Ooh, something at your church?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." Nick can't imagine what would top what they'd already gone through.

"It would have to be."

"Pastor ran off with someone, a very...young...someone." 

Nick pauses again. "Ouch."

"Yeah, midlife crisis or just closet scumbag, I don't know what's up these days."

Nick just figures that stuff was just hushed up in the past, but that's not important right now. "Should I call mom?" 

"I offered to stay home today but I think she just needs to be alone. I will probably order a pizza tonight, we'll get her favorite in case she wants some. Are you going to be home?"

"I had planned on it, but Noreen left me a message too, I haven't talked to her today."

"Ok, whatever you do just - and I know you will, but - try to be supportive, know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"I know you do, alright, tell that rotten boss of yours to make me some good recruits for once, see you in a bit."

"Will do thanks Dad."

Nick hangs up, stares into space for a second, but needs to move, so he heads out his right-hand door into the back of King's lab to practice his fly on the wall until needed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He arrives home just after 5:30 to find Irene in her bathrobe picking at a slice of "sausage mushrooms peppers light sauce" from Needle Bend Drive Through (open 24 hours for your convenience). Nick has rarely seen her in this shape and puts a peck on her forehead.

"Sweetie you could have done something with your gal."

"I didn't get a hold of her till I was ready to leave, they're doing a cookout but we agreed I should come home tonight."

"She's a good lady. Remind me what she sees in you?"

Nick sticks his tongue out and grabs a plate to nuke-wake a couple slices. 

"How was the first day?"

"Predictable. Stuff will need to break another day."

"That's the spirit. I'm tired of things breaking."

"I know, I'm sorry mom."

"It's the world, Nicky. Tell me more about your day."

"Not much to tell, I met the new gang and realized the need to lock my office more."

"Did something happen?"

"No, just..."

"Yeah it's not an empty building anymore."

"Nope, enrollments are right where they hope and projecting more."

"That's good."

"OH, Noreen says she wants to get lunch with you sometime, guess she wants to talk about your favorite son."

She leans in studiously, "and what's Timmy got to do with it?"

"Yeah yeah, don't quit yer day job."

"I'll be here all week."

"You should get out of the house, go visit Gramma."

"I need to, but I sure don't want to see the house when I return."

"Oh I'm sure Dad and I would get it mostly straightened up right before you get back."

"Mmmhmmm, there would be no right about it." She stares into space.

"Wanna see a movie?"

She just stares at him. "Nick, seriously? That would be nice. What's playing."

"Might be able to find Wayne's World somewhere."

"Howbout that Whoopie Goldberg, the nuns..."

"Sister Act?"

"Sister Act!"

Sister Act – since he was rather preoccupied the other time he’d been exposed to it.

Ned stays home and falls asleep watching Sports Center.

Lucky Star

Tue Sept 22, 1992

Noreen was feeling much better save some residual grunting and wheezing. She didn't want to bug Nick in case he was busy with last minute stuff but stopped by anyway and found him in Goody's office with a binder on his lap but not too busy to be excused since it was time for a breather. 

They stroll down towards the hydraulics lab, he explains, "we're just getting ready for bench needs."

"Sounds like a romp. So, later..."

"I can grab a couple burgers."

She leans in and pecks his cheek, "Mustard, pickle, NO onion, light mayo if you can?"

"You know it."

Later finds them on the couch in front of the TV for the first time in nearly a week when she was about half herself and went out of her way to show him a good time, which had bothered him some since then, that's not her sworn duty, he was there just to hang out.

She still has that same glow as yesterday, rejuvenated, and with her that comes with a hint of mischief even when she's not up to any mischief, except that she reaches beneath the couch and produces a plan black VHS case and rattles the contents with an expression that dares him to guess.

"WHAT did you just find under there."

"I found it in someone's stash of tapes a few weeks ago, been saving it." She opens the case to reveal a well-worn video cassette with a hand-printed label, she whisks it away before Nick can make out the title, but he manages to catch The World Of...somebody or such. Must be a documentary. As she loads up the VCR she invites him to stretch out and get comfy. He still had on his standard issue jeans and gray-ish golf shirt, a look that she only describes as 'preppy' but she had changed into familiar beige shorts and white floral top. Once it's rolling she lies belly down with her cheek on his chest and he habitually messes with her flaxen mop.

It starts with what looks like movie previews and he thinks it's of of HBO or such, then there's an ID for a somewhat familiar UHF channel in Chicago that he'd picked up now and then. 

"Oh channel 44", Nick offers to no response.

Then there's a card with some tree-like foliage with the words "ADULTS ONLY" in one corner, with the announcer pointing out that the following presentation is rated R and only viewable to subscribers who pay extra.

"This must be from that pay TV they had up there a few years ago."

"That is soooo interesting," she growls, bringing to mind that Ally Sheedy line from Breakfast Club that they'd watched in here recently.

"Are we adult enough to watch this?" 

Noreen just looks up at him with an expectation that he behave. Or...mis-behave? 

From the first few scenes it's obvious that this really is just for grownups, very tasteful but...familiar situations that end up involving private parts, usually with a kind of humor, but Nick doesn't always find a lot of humor in it, either way, it's fascinating. 

Over the next hour or so he may drift off a bit and so does she, but eventually there's this couple feverishly making love and the camera is never far off, and gradually he realizes Noreen stirring about.

"Getting any ideas?" she purrs.

Nick hadn't thought of this being a prelude but then he's learned that you never get what you expect so he doesn't expect much, but when you do get an opportunity it usually hits from the clear blue.

Recently she had been hinting that she wouldn't mind posing for racy photographs if he were the one behind the camera, which sounded exciting at first, but then he thought, he already has a photographic memory. Much more difficult for his mind store to fall into the wrong hands, something he didn't want to risk for an aspiring public figure. 

He starts massaging her back area and neck and gradually she massages the promised land against his thigh.

The movie ends and she kills the TV but not the VCR, just lets it go its merry way and leads him into her bedroom. They had never ended up on her bed before.

Before he knows it he's back on his back and she's on top and rubbing his shoulders. He can tell she's pretty wet, and it's the thin, ample, watery kind of wet.

After rubbing his member between her hands a few seconds she turns around, "You may need to help hold me up for this, 'kay?"

"I'll try."

She manages a convincing Yoda, enhanced by the hoarseness, "Try, not. Do, you must."

Before Nick can sigh she inserts him gently, in what some call a reverse cowgirl, pauses as if to drink it in, then begins rubbing herself. Nick realizes for the first time how she gets tighter, but just holds him inside and strums her own stuff like a banjo. 

And so this sets the rhythm.

Everything is going on around front where he can just feel it, her other hand exploring his pouch as she likes to do.  He just rubs her shoulders and tries his best to do as she asks, she's in control and he senses no need to hurry things along, it's the escape they both need before starting a new chapter.

Times like this he can't help but remember when they met, this is pretty much the best view he got of her that night, as it were. Now that same view is bobbing along to a song he can't hear, those grabbable hips his to explore, still, he has a solid elbow placed between her shoulders, gradually works the other hand around and finds her clit.

Almost right away this appears to be working, she coos approval, gasps, sways and starts chugging, it's close, she gets wild, and out of nowhere he hears a clear rendition...

"You must be my lucky starrrrr...ohhh man...*gasps*...where ever you arrre..."

And then she jerks, lets out a pretty butch moan that would be funny any other time, then goes limp.

She begins to slide down footward and he tries to prop her, his dingus pops out and bobs against her back as she gets situated once again, her head facing up against his chest and she captures his pride beneath her right arm,

"You're so good, here, fuck my armpit," as she pinches the end of it and tongues the tip best she can in that position.

So Nick blesses her wish and grinds it between her skinny arm and ribcage, somehow this is productive, she's no kind of predictable and that blond mop, he can see and rub her nips, still angry as a fresh bee sting, and for the first time in years it gushes about three feet upward, the initial glop had to have nailed her forehead with a SPLAT, but she gleefully gobs up the rest of it up just the same.

Once that's done he tries to get her to rest on him more normally and is able to keep her awake just enough to get her slimy face nuzzled up against him, two misfits, one blissful mess.

For whatever reason he recalls recently hearing that Lou Gramm track, Ready Or Not, and how he's been meaning to ask if she ever plucked that one out on the ol' bass.

Nick awakens to her nudging, "Sweetie, see what time it is." He looks around and finds glowing numbers that say 12:27. He normally heads back home an hour or so before this. Still, he foresees no problem gong back to sleep once he gets there.

The Incinerator

Goddard Elementary was built by a Roosevelt program in the 1930s and featured a smokestack out of the same brick but just a tad taller than the two-story building. During the six years of Nick's tenure there, two runs in kindergarten then through fourth, he realized the typical aroma was from the custodians shoving in all the single-serve milk cartons from their lunch.

Nick also wondered why there was never a rumor, at least that he heard, that bad kids ended up going in there. Guess that would be hard to sell unless a student were to suddenly disappear and so forth.

So instead of paying for trash service they would just throw it beneath the smokestack, sometimes even during recess so that everyone in the neighborhood on the edge of town could inhale milk cartons.

At one point Nick asked his mom if the name Goddard has to do with the God at church. She said she'd have to look into it but never did.

There were lots of people that she would mention over the years that had started attending services, were getting married, having surgery, going on a trip.

Others would just disappear and the trail would just dry up. 

These people just vanished into thin air, just like the milk cartons.

Sometimes individuals would come without their spouse. Sometimes they would be there every Sunday. For a while. Then you realize you haven't seen them for a while. Nobody usually knew why.

Those waxy milk cartons had things to read on them, sometimes a joke, sometimes a fact. College Knowledge.

Sometimes couples would attend for a while then you'd hear they were getting divorced, and you don't see them there again but might run into one of them at the grocery. If you see one of those across a parking lot you just acknowledge them and don't say much else. He or she looks different now.

They used to have high school kids help out in the elementary cafeterias, years later Nick realized as an OWE kind of thing. One of them was a cool dude who would tell Nick he did a good job for eating all of his tray that day. That dude was only around a few times then disappeared.

When Nick's parents changed churches most of the congregation would naturally go poof once they lost touch.

Once you get to high school you can have chocolate milk in one of those little cartons. At some point he realized they no longer used the incinerator, that dank smell was no longer in the air when the wind blew from the school, probably decided the smoke was not a good idea and they should just have the cartons hauled away.

In his junior year he cracked up one of the cooler teachers by pointing out that the plain milk cartons proudly proclaimed HOMO MILK in bold letters by a carton designer who obviously, either didn't understand their target demographic or won one hell of a bet.

Ready Freddie

Mon Sept 21, 1992

It's eerily quiet in the Tech Building. The orientations have come and gone, the incoming herd is, well, about halfway impressive as usual, by now he can subconsciously spot the ones that will be around next term. At least this time around he hasn't picked out anyone as overtly flaky as they've had in his time there, but then, first impressions are often like that.

It all starts on Wednesday 8 am, he'll get here by 7:15, to keep ahead of the unexpected. Nick is happy to keep things going as they always have, as he's come to know and respect, and so is their little corner of the school. He's still coming to terms with being on his side of that desk in an official capacity. A professional. Working retail makes you somewhat professional, this is a real professional, except not the suit-wearing kind, but what used to be khakis and collared shirts, now jeans and collared shirts. They had issued engraved name tags to all the faculty and staff that will be worn for the first couple of weeks of fall term.

Fall. It's the first day of Autumn.

Nick has his little boombox tuned to 106 that he can get thanks to an old TV antenna on the roof whose twin-lead feedline made its way to his office one day, when the building was especially desolate, in turn, thanks to finding the wire fish to get it rerouted through the drop-ceiling with a few climbs of the ladder. Sue had wondered into the adjoining classroom while he was up there; his ears felt warm at first until she just smiled and glowed that he was keeping busy before asking if he'd seen Alfred.

The boombox hasn't left the building since he was a student. 

Student. Recent days had granted a lot of time to ponder how much he still has to learn, about technology, radio, life. Things with Noreen never seemed so certain, well, at least emotionally, but he had no idea if he needed to buy a ring at some point, if she wanted to keep her independence and grant him his, he had no desire to be with anyone else, but still.

Sometimes Nick packs a lunch, his space was comfy and generally private, at least for now. He had discovered the joy of freezing a sammich the night before then if he let it thaw in his desk it was perfectly crisp by the time he needed it most. Even if he ended up at the cafeteria or snack bar he could just pop it in the staff fridge. Perfect crime. The fridge at home has the variety pack of lunch meats, this time its pimento loaf and old-fashioned loaf. Was there ever a time way back when it was just loaf? Then a slice of Colby Jack and a stripe of yellow mustard. Much better than pink mustard.

He had been tempted to dig out an old portable TV he'd spotted at a garage sale during a bike that time, when he had bee-lined home to grab fifteen bucks, all the time reasoning whether it's better to ride back then try to walk with his bike, then duh, it would fit in an old backpack, but does he have time to find the backpack? Someone might grab it before he can get back.

Opting to just jump in the car for the five block trip he claims his prize, after the lady assured him she could have set it back for a while, if he'd just asked, oh well. The tag said "works" but it's seen better days. The VHF knob is missing and it has no AC power cord. He got it onto the bench and found an old AC lamp cord with plug in a box of wires, then used pliers to twist the leads into the male fins that would accept the original plug, then took a breath and turned away to power it up.

In the absence of a devastating explosion he saw the little monochrome screen come to life with tiny pin-prick snowflakes. It lives. After finagling with the telescopic antenna and employing some channel-locks to kerchunk it to the UHF selector, he was able to get a decent copy on the closest signal, a PBS station running Sesame Street on a nice afternoon.

Nick had not really gotten much use out of that little guy, it would be OK to have it in his office but seemed a bit over the line, even if he kept it secret. Not much on to watch during weekdays anyhow. It would have been fun to have it in the tent recently, but they were with a group and, well, seems they had far better things to do there in the tent.

Their time alone is never a guarantee and deep down that was comforting.

He consumes his sandwich while playing solitaire on the Model 25 and its 14 inch monitor. He keeps the settings as loose as possible: unlimited deals, one card at a time, undo. The idea is to beat it each deal if at all possible, re-deal when needed, not just see how far he can get three cards at a time.

He had been through a couple redeals and was crumpling up a HoHo wrapper when someone appears at his door holding her shoes in a bid to sneak in.

Before Nick even comprehends her identity Noreen warns in a gravely patter, "Don't get near me yet." She looks tired but well presented as he's ever seen. Her voice is kinda hot this way unfortunately.

"Are you contagious?" 

"Fever has been down since last night but let's not chance it babe. Good to see you finally."

"Glad you're on your feet, you enjoy the ambush don't you?"

"Best part of the day so far and you know it."

"So you're gonna hit your meetings?"

"Yeah I'll try to keep isolated. Anything going on here?"

"Trying to beat this hand," nodding toward the screen.

She looks toward the hallway and lowers her voice, "Well don't beat anything else, once I fight this bug off you'll be fighting me off." She always seems to know how to make the point with her eyes and he has to look away.

"I'll be sure to eat my wheaties." He manages to glance back at her and she quickly hitches an eyebrow and giggles, no need to say what she's thinking.

"Well, I'm gonna go camp out," as she slips her flats back on.

"Stop by later and tell me how it goes."

"I'll at least try to call. Behave." With a wink she darts out of view, impish as ever.

At home he had gotten the Icom situated, inconspicuously grounded to the bathroom cold water feed and ready to transmit, been practicing with the keyer and paddle and starting to prefer it over a straight key. Perfectionists are always panged at the slightest deviation from how things should be, and the keyer made such nice characters and he could always tell those on the air who use one, that's how he wanted to come across, except, without all the little farts and shits that plague when he practices. He doesn't even know his call sign yet.

Also hitting is the fact that he didn't know for sure what form his call sign would take or which license he would have, he forgot to ask on Saturday, but at least he knew what all he could do with it. Goody was eager to get onto the repeaters and check into nets, but Nick just wanted to get onto the big bands. He might try the 28 MHz segment where he can do sideband at least and not have to fumble with code right away. And then there are plenty of beginners in that patch of 7 MHz that would find him a mutual sound for sore ears for the awkward debut with code.

Certain things were finally also making sense, regarding their alone time. Carnality had always seemed detached of purpose, however, the paved road that gets you to the Promised Land was not always a road, sometimes it really did just magically appear before you, or else, maybe you get transported, magically, either way, it's magic.

The last time he hung out with Noreen was last Thursday night, they just heated some stuff up in her old microwave and ate, she was slightly distant, at the time he thought she had her mind in the upcoming quarter term, but in retrospect she was probably in the first stages of infection, or at least susceptible to it, he had never seen her so focused, nearly consumed. She hadn't been able to straighten up her space as she normally would and he knew better than to offer to help.

They sat next to each other and she couldn't seem to find anything to watch so it landed on Wheel and Jeopardy then reruns. She leaned on him, dozed off, twitched a few times then out of nowhere started feeling his groin. He waited for what seemed an eternal two and a half minutes to start feeling around on her side but she didn't seem to react, keeping her face out of view. She ended up digging him out of the jeans he'd worn to work, pulled up his shirt and finished him off manually onto his bare belly then fished out one of the towels she kept stashed for this kind of situation.

She started to put him back together, then he completed that task and then once again got comfy on his arm. 

"I guess I owe you one then?" He finally asked.

"Can I just doze off a few more times before you go?"

And so that was their evening, bless her heart.

He would be happy with just these snacks, but it seems with a woman things will often go the long yard and she'll take you where you never could have imagined, the full course meal, just gotta go with the moment. 

Be ready.

Ready Freddie. Crazy Lil’ Thing Called Love (yeah-yeah).

Fireworks at Hector's

Monday July 4, 1988

Nick and Tim head toward the fishing pond at good ol' Happy Hector's.

"So did you miss me during the fireworks?" Tim asks in a leading tone, having been a tad preoccupied all morning, and not just his normal fidgety always-on-the-move wannabe jock pain in the ass kind of thing.

"Figured you'd found a group of peers with which to hang."

"Not exactly. Well, did you see me take a walk with Pam?"

Nick nearly stops walking. "Do I want to know where this is going?"

"You don't have a choice."

Nick just sighs, the sun shines but he clouds up inside.

"So...we both had to go the the restrooms at the same time, or she said she did, who knows, and she kept making comments, like how someone's bratwurst still looked good even though she just ate, and kept asking stuff, if I was seeing anyone...mentioned she's just now starting to bounce back after the divorce, could use some company..."

They get to the gate for the ponds which is unlocked. Since Tim is 18 they have no cause to be hassled by the old fart who likes to badger everyone, unless they were to get too close to bridge end where all dem bigguns seem to be, so they head to the sweet spot where you can cast that way and not draw fire.

Nick thinks back to noticing the shape of the fly swatter in the popup camper. Far as he can remember there was always the same all-plastic swatter in the camper with a crack in it, but it still worked and he liked to crack at flies with it as a boy and then stare at it just to wonder why it's shaped the way it is, who designed it?

They had pulled in to Hectors Friday night and would head out later today.

Tim starts back in, "She mentions she doesn't really care for fireworks, they hurt her head, but I'd be welcome to stop by her camper."

Nick is full of forebode. "So this is why you hit the shower?"

"Hey I felt grimy."

"Your FACE is grimy."

A man and his grandsons wander up and ask about the fishing and so the boys offer some observations, then as soon as they are clear, 

"All I had to do was play it cool till most of you's were out in the field then, did ya notice how her door is facing the woods back thee?"

"How convenient." Nick had watched the fireworks with his folks, who seemed closer than usual lately, carnality just seemed plain carnal. Nick had gone through a dull ache of a funk during the initial heat wave and came out hungry for meaning and finding very little, a season of change all around but he was some fly in amber.

"Convenient ain't the word for it. So she has the windows open, blinds closed, smells nice, she had washed up too."

It was at this point where the mixed sentiments really started to duke it out, one one hand, she was just a bit older than their mom, on the other hand....

"She leads me inside with a smile, kisses me, and it's like the usual with a girl except...well older women are softer, but it's all there, they like the same stuff. She had excused herself from the fireworks with everyone, I think they really do mess with her head, so we had some time, let's just say she took matters into her hands and got stuff all over her neck and chest." Nick hadn't noticed that Pam was especially well endowed upstairs but this is more, maybe Huey Lewis said best, she's Heart and Soul, so he pictured a decent tanlined (and droopy) set of freckled Cs and left it at that, really didn't care to picture any further embellishments, as it were.

Nick just stares out at his bobber, which he'd gladly change places with, jumping in vain in the light breeze, it was most likely too bright and warm to get a bite but here they are. Might drag for cats next, should have thought of that sooner, but this was just too much.

"SO we laid there for a bit, talked some, she kept messing with it, she had thought it through - remember that, son, older women always have a plan."

"I don't think I'll forget this anytime soon, don't worry."

"She wanted to build it up again, so she could, you know, ride into the sunset."

Nick saw no point in further resistance. "So she looks good naked?"

"Well the lights were down of course but she really does...enchanting..those dark eyes." Tim kinda stares into the shimmering water through his aviators. Nick had just thought of her as one of the folks who sits around the campfire with the adults and hadn't really noticed except she seemed to have tan legs in those capris. 

"So how long did you stick around?"

"Well we just chilled out till most folks were settled in then I slipped along the trees and over to the playground to look at the stars, tried to get her to join me but she was too tired - wink wink"

"Yeah tired of YOUR ass."

"Hey raise your hand if you got it last night? Anyone? Yeah, thought so."

"I take it Mom hasn't caught on? I don't wanna be around..."

"Hey, I said I hung out and then went to the playground to think about life, that was that."

Nick got a missed nibble on the tightline and Tim never wet a hook. 

"But...Pam even came to the little church thing with us yesterday."

Tim takes a pause, "Yeah I was there too remember?"

"Right but we, well, we have to be there, she was there...willingly."

"What's that got to do with it?"

Nick didn't know. "I didn't think, you know, adults, played around."

"Oh they do."

"Can she get pregnant?" Nick was startled at himself for asking this. 

Tim just kinda chuckled, "Nope, she made it clear early on that wasn't possible. She didn't seem to want to talk about her kids, they are about our age but this was her getaway."

"Hmm." Nick's thoughts finally caught up with the fact that this strange fantasy is now a familiar, and somewhat welcoming, reality and fact.

Also welcoming, at first, was some relief of cloud cover was now looking grayer and they could smell rain, so Nick bundled up and they head back toward camp, but Nick needed to process this, so he hurries to a vacant playground tile to wait it out.

To his knowledge Tim has seen some action here and there but this was probably the big one, right before he hits boot camp in a few days. The strangest thing about this is how this could have been hidden, or how most stories like this are plain full of shit, this was an honest account of an honest encounter that could have only taken place when the rest of the world was out of earshot staring up at a cloudless summer sky.

Right as the rain starts to let up some kids end up tile hopping and end up at the other end of his, they are wet and smelly so he beelines to a shelter, but by now it's time to re-enter the prime timeline.

It's not time to tear down yet so Tim heads to the pool and Nick jumps on the bike, at first avoiding Pam's site but he feels he needs to face this. He makes the approach and his feet almost forget where the pedals are. He's hoping she stays out of sight but happens to walk around her camper, sees him and smiles, he slows a bit and smiles too, they both know a secret. 

"See you next year, Nick."

Seemingly on autopilot he answers, "See ya."

This was the first time he'd spoken to her since his mom had introduced them at the campfire Friday night. 

He rides away and it hits him, would it be his turn, next year? 

Seems in earlier years, the smell of campfires held a certain mystique, a call to romance, but now, it’s just burning wood. Heh.

At some point Nick asks his brother if he'd gotten her number. "I asked once, she just walked her fingers across my chest and I think brought up the Cards."