The Avon Lady

Sunday October 4, 1992

He hadn't talked to Noreen since briefly Friday night, and she was kinda terse but asked if he could come out Sunday.

They sat outside and she wanted to hear about Deej, except, calling her Danni.

"That worked out well then. I needed some time to process."

"You were kinda busy Friday?"

"Well..." and he could swear she got a tad flushed.

After she takes a couple breaths and tries to find an expression, she does this self-gathering motion with her arms and he blurts out, "you look like Diane on Cheers."

She sighs. "Dumbass. Well she never had to spring this on ol' Sam, lemme tell ya."

"Are you OK?"

"I will be. And it wasn't harmful, just...."

"Blurt it out."

"Wokay...I ended up running home during the long break and found a message from Doris, our Avon lady, known her since high school." She pauses for a breath.

"Intriguing."

She glances up with a beehive's worth of warning.

"Sorry."

"Anyway, Sandy usually pools our orders together and we settle up, you know, and there was a message that my stuff had been delayed and I could pick it up. So I go over to her apartment, just off - where we go over to the library, in that little nook?"

"Ahh." Nick vaguely remembers that route.

"Well, Doris greets me with a big hug, we hadn't seen each other in a while, we catch up for a few moments, and she wants to show me the latest supplement since I usually just get the same thing, for years now, anyway...."

She flushes again.

Nick raises an eyebrow.

"Umm...she starts rubbing my shoulders."

"Okayyyy."

"Yeah. And it was soooo relaxing."

"I should do that more."

"Well....I kinda got lost in it. Nick...it went further than that."

His blood kinda went simultaneously hot and cold. "What do you mean?"

"It..." she tears up, "...it was like a dream, her hands moved around and..." after a few gasps, "before I knew it I was on her bed with my skirt up." She breaks into tears.

"Sweetie -"

"I don't know what this means."

"Um..."

"Yes, she put her mouth down there and I...fell into it and...I finished. BUT it wasn't like us, I swear, it was different."

"It's okay."

She looks at him somewhat more soberly. "If you want to be a dickhead and find this amusing, or even arousing I can excuse it."

"Nah."

"Is it kinda shocking?"

"Yeah."

"Nick I didn't ask for this but then, well - and I'm convinced she's entered some kind of life-changing condition, she's been divorced for years and never remarried, might be a mental… I can't let this happen again, as sweet as it was in some ways, I don't want to fuck...mess up what we have - I'm not making sense."

"Give it time."

"You're right. Just be patient with me?"

"Of course. What's with all the women in my life?"

"When it rains it pours. God it was crazy, I had the sense to not let myself fall asleep there, but still ended up missing some office hours."

"At least you didn't have a class. Oh, Deej hopes we can double or do group stuff, keep her out of trouble."

"Smart gal, I'm sure that can be arranged. Maybe we can scrape up a brother to brainwash into a state of suitable normality."

"Science can only do so much."

Starting with the Montoya accent, "You keep using that phrase...but it remains true. But I need to ask a flavor."

"Yeass?" (trying to imitate Bugs)

Deep breath, "I left my Avon at her apartment during a hasty goodbye while she was trying to excuse her behavior, " she shudders, "can you…go over and pick it up for me? Not sure I want the gals going over there and I still don't know how to handle it with them."

"Eesh, sure, no probs."

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

After a quick TV lunch Nick arrives at the address scribbled on the corner of notebook paper, along with a twinge of regret that the rest of the sheet must now live on as an amputee.

He knocks the knocker and immediately hears Terri Garr say "Zhank you, Dokhtor!"

After a moment a voice, "Who IS it?" with the musical inflection on the IS.

“I'm Nick, umm, Noreen asked me to pick up her order, she's tied up at the moment.”

The door swings open to a short middle-aged ginger, and before he can take her in, 

"Oh Nick - my, she told me about you and, oh my I'm afraid things got a little out of hand, I don't know what came over me. Please, umm...please dear have a seat over here."

She directs him to a love seat and grabs a small bag, sets it down on the floor then sits on her knees before him. 

"Nick I must, I simply must make this up to you."

"Umm - " His heart is now pounding and he can't remember her name.

She removes her blouse, the kind that his mom grabs off the rack at Kmart to send to a grandma for a summer birthday. "Sweetie, it's only right, will you please remove them."

Nick can't help but stare as she reaches to remove her well-laden brassiere, makes a face reaching for the snaps, "OH would you mind?" as she swivels halfway around.

At this point he has the realization that this situation will just need to play out as it will so he obliges. Her freckled bosoms flop almost down to her waist band.

She then reaches for his belt buckle so he gives in and kinda assists, not having a sense for any kind of etiquette in this situation. He eases just his jeans down and leaves his boxers for fate.

Before he can square himself on the love seat she's digging in his drawers, "let's see here...HEEEERREE we go, ohhh myyy..."

She unsheathes Elvis and the Twins neatly then flops her own goodies onto his legs, then gently eases his semi-curious thing between her soft lips.

Finally his conscience can start to catch up. Ethically, at least by Noreen's logic, this is fair, But also by her estimation, this woman may not be in the best frame of mind, but still, her charisma has undoubtedly served her well in the Avon game, she could probably talk him into several bottles of that Wild Country that his dad likes so much -  present circumstances notwithstanding.

For some reason he asks, "Are you married, Doris?"

She tags in her hand, and she expressively answers, as if chatting over tea, "Nooooo, I'm afraid I've been alone for, for quite some time now, but let's not get into that," as she goes back to her dainty yet effective form of snake charming. Definitely has a knack or experience with this, which he doesn't know what to do with at this point, she's hitting that spot.

"You're really...good."  Is all he can think to say. Again, when in Rome; he gently places hands on the tender rocket-shaped pancakes draped across his thighs.

She just looks up and gives an innocent smile, again, present circumstances notwithstanding.

It had been since the other night and, as much as he wanted to learn more about her, she seemed to sense it was close, 

"You'll have to excuse me, I never could stand the taste, so you just let it happen all over me when you're ready."

This was too much, and it made a rare fountain jump, some in her hair but he really rooted for some syrup on the pancakes. She tapered off gradually as he finished, "there you go, Dear, all better." Then pecked the tip of it. "Let me go get a washcloth."

He remembered Noreen having to resist falling asleep but that would mean missing whatever happens next. He almost re-packs but, he's her guest after all, when in Rome. 

She quickly returns with a damp washcloth, and cleaning up her chest, then she gently tends to his portions and neatly tucks them back into their home.

"There Dear, I hope this makes it better."

He looks her in the face and can't resist cupping her ample bosoms, "Is there any thing I can do for you?"

She demurs, looks down, fumbles for her bra, "Um, Nick can you just help me with this?"

"Sure."

"I know this has been strange, I...I haven't been feeling quite myself lately, I hope I haven't hurt you dear folks."

"You haven't hurt a thing, Doris, this has been....interesting. You're very sweet."

She sighs, "Thank you for saying so, dear if you don't mind I think I need to lie down, yes, I need to rest, this has been quite a..."

"Are you OK?"

"I...I think so, just, I need to rest, it was lovely meeting you, um, Nick?"

"Yes, yes it was...is this the Avon?"

"Yes, check the name on the bag, but it should be hers."

Nick verified the name, and kinda seems like she was expecting someone to show up for it.

"Well take care, I hope...you feel better soon."

She showed him to the door, "Take care, Nick."

He walked out with somewhat weak knees and looked back at her door. Heh, "what knockers."

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

Noreen could tell something was up and met him with an expectant look.

He handed her the bag, "Well, we're even," was all he could muster.

Her eyes went huge and she led him to the sofa as the breeze had picked up outside. "Details, man."

She tried so freaking hard, he could tell, to not laugh, although they both know there was a very potential dark side on the horizon for their mutual benefactor.

At one point he admits, "she's so sweet, in some ways it would be tempting to both go over at once."

"Nick..."

"I know."

Noreen looks down while rubbing her chin with a knuckle as she thinks, "Well, I'll just tell the gals that Doris is not acting herself and we should try to get her checked out."

"Yeah. Kinda....well, your own mom."

She sighs, "yeah."

After a pause, "well we certainly shared something."

Noreen smiles, "that we did, honey, leave it to us? Now you have three girlfriends, slugger." and mock-punches him on the arm.

"Now wait -"

"Nick...you know it's OK, none of us are in a state of commit, if you need more time with Danni just say so."

He makes a light grimace. "I honestly don't know what to do with her, she's starting over and I don't think anyone she knows looks at life the way we do, you know. We were kinda...all talk and tease, never really made out, just that awkward time at a stupid party."

She grins expectantly. 

"Okay, I tried what you think I tried and it went everywhere. It's a wonder we didn't get caught, she found it pretty amusing."

Noreen covers her face, folds over her lap and finally lets herself laugh. "Swing and a miss. And I have GOT to meet this miss."

"Just what I need, call me Swing then. She admitted I should help keep her focused."

"Well you better just do that, Swing, she's my kind of gal or she wouldn't be in your world. So...Swing...I was really your first, for that particular ass-pect?"  She manages an expectant look while mostly fighting the laugh.

He gives her a look to try and squelch the new nickname (no pun intended), "Yeah, it would have been apocalyptic had I managed to do that back in 8th grade, kinda put me in a zone." That sentence just blurted out and he wasn't quite sure what he meant.

Noreen plays with his shirt buttons, seems he prefers the button-up shirts to tees these days as a semi-professional wannabe. "Just thankful you eventually found my zone."

"Do you have anyone else, while we're at it?"

"Just Doris."

"Did you get to see her jugs? But, seriously."

"Nope, shucks, but that's as serious as I can get. Most men are just cardboard cutouts to me, you have something different."

"That little mole on my butt?"

"Your brain you mean?"

"My brain, hell, both my brains are tired. Not even Darling?"

She flips him off, with a sassy street move, "Stride it...an' ride it, sucka. And don't complain, you probably got a better deal than me today."

"Don't..."

She winces, "Sorry, too far....but she's...something, she really did a number on both of us."

"Can't help but wonder -"

"Um, let's, let's not wonder too much."

"Howbout we go get coffee or somewheres else."

"Yeah, howbout I follow you that way?"

"Deal."

Deal is sealed with a two-beat smooch before they head out, but not before Bart flags them down to talk about cars.

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

After Noreen gets home and calls, Nick has already showered and still can't believe it. He'll have to come to terms with the temptation to stop in on Doris again, their story began and probably ended within about ten minutes. 

For the first time in years he recalls a shut-in lady that his mom used to help out on weekends, to help with her hair and nails. Donna was waist-down paraplegic, or nearly so, from one of the nervous disorders, maybe MS, and appreciated help bathing and maybe some salon stuff, just some interaction other than TV, the way Irene explained it. The church van had to pick Donna up since it had room for her chair.

One time she thought it best to bring Nick for some kind of character building, he could just watch TV and be another visitor. At one point he was seated on the couch after they started her bath and the door came open. Without thinking he looked and saw Donna sitting there in the tub completely exposed and looking right at him, walnut-brown hair and eyes, well endowed, mid-30s and tragically beautiful in that state. He could hear her talking with the running bath water, then with a couple of evident nudges from his mom the door went shut. 

At that point a fifth-grade Nick found it most comfortable to move to a chair out of sight of that door. Was he in trouble? He didn't mean to see, and Donna looked square at him, what was she thinking?

He tried in vain to watch American Bandstand and it seemed forever until he smelled a curling iron and felt somewhat relieved for some reason.

Somewhat into the next program Irene calls out, "Nick will you help her get to her chair?"

His blood ran cold but he felt redemption, especially after discovering she had on a robe now, she avoided eye contact but grabbed onto his hand and squeezed it with a word of thanks when she got situated.

This moment always felt sacred, and even more so after Donna succumbed to her condition just a few months later. 

At various stages of maturity he would try to avoid thoughts of seeing a grown, wistful, shapely woman in that fragile state, beyond what his scant years couldn't begin to appreciate, in a forbidden space that robbed her ability to realize things that most humans take for granted.

SMACK!

Saturday Oct 3 1992

It's breezy but warm as Nick and Deej sit down beneath a maple that's still green as the perennials that produce what lend their name to Needles Park.

The week had been pretty uneventful until the Wednesday performance, his first time playing music for a crowd was largely an out of body experience but he had enough in the woodshed to bang out the chords and it was a hit. He felt closer to Noreen than in some time and had dinner at her place, and then a few hands of gin rummy on the floor after she put on a Styx album, just sounded good.

Irene had been rather quiet, understandably, but had been playing the piano more. Nick wondered if she were going to find some new students soon. Ned had spent more time in the garage but was overheard consoling her at least once.

"I don't know where to start, Nicky." She's still got the bangs but combed down and the rest of it tied back, still looks good in denim with the high all-stars, light eye makeup and some freckles, classic Deej.

"Are you on semester break?"

"It's a pretty big break...a...hiatus if that's the right word."

"Sounds like you hit a wall."

She looks at him, with a clap, "SPLAT. And are you sure this is OK with your girlfriend?"

"She told me to be there for you, pretty sure she gets it, hon."

With a slight grin, "Do you call all the gals hon? You never called me that before.”

"I think I picked it up from my mom."

"Love her. How are your folks?"

"Well about the same but just got burned by another church, pastor came down with the moral failure."

Nick waits for an answer but hears none. He glances over to see her tearing up, staring blankly ahead. He scoots closer and reaches for her hand. She squeezes gently and sobs harder for a moment.

"This fucking sucks." Her frankness is not new, but that confident, chiseled poise had until now seemed unbreakable; he can’t imagine a time where she’d let her firewall down.

Nick fumbles for the next question, and settles on, "was it...like, grades?"

Her head sways back and forth, "No..." gasps some more, "...not...well, it would have been."

Nick gives her more time to collect, not knowing what else to say, then she continues.

"That time you made those phone tapes of that phony...anti-rock type?"

"Um...yeah?"

"I think I get it now."

"Oh."

After a deep breath, she goes on, "There comes these moments when we have to...ask...find out..."

"Yeah..." he interjects with a glimmer of understanding.

"I...I had it all planned out in my head, get the damn degree, work for the greater good somewhere in the church...system, I guess, maybe get married, hell."

"At least you had a plan -"

"Pssh."

"Well -"

"Nicky....", she squeezes his hand and turns to grin, "HON...sometimes a plan is just a setup...<sigh>...here I am a junior and literally...literally threw darts to pick a major, when classes started it just, well...felt like...my hands and feet were in mud."

"Yowzer."

She looks at him, "Nick I didn't make any real connections all these years, I knew you'd understand after all that shit you pulled."

"Well the shit has a way of dumping back on us."

Deej faces out to the river again. "So I come home and my parents think I need counseling."

"Do you?"

She sighs and shakes her head, "I need time. They just want me to talk to their pastor that I've never met."

"Ouch." Stumped again, he lets that float.

She rubs her forehead. A few more sighs later, "I wish I could have my own place or move out, get a job, probably transfer to the twig."

"Noreen might be able to find you a roomie around campus there, she teaches English. Seems the library is always hiring."

She turns and smiles, "Thanks, Nicky." She leans in and they share a mutual cheek peck.

"Actually if, well, it gets...urgent, Tim's old room is still there."

"Has it been, like, decontaminated?" and manages to laugh in the tears.

"Hon, science can only do so much."

She leans on him. "Nick...at the moment I'm not much of a threat but, not sure I ever said this, back then, well, before going to sleep I used to jam out, if you know what I mean."

"I think Grace Slick sang about that once?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

After a pause, she continues, "I don't want to crash your life, I'm just glad to share it some, you're the only one who understands what I'm going through."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around these days."

"Well, what exactly?"

He pauses. "Things aren't what they're supposed to be."

"What about you, is it going to plan?"

"Plan was to get the degree, that went well and they offered me the in-house lackey job, it was either that or Rad Shack until Dad could get me in, been kinda slow."

"Didn't you work for that Emmett dude?"

"Everett - that's a story for another episode, or coffee."

"Hey, maybe sometime we can double date, just to talk and laugh. I pretty much kept to myself out at asstickle -"

Nick explodes with laughter.

"What? Oh you think you INVENTED that?"

He's rolling in the grass, and eventually blurts out, "this is worth getting chiggers!"

"I certainly hope you do." She reaches out for his hand,  "Here, get your pansy ass back over here before I get excited."

"Yeah right. How come girls never admitted this stuff back then?"

She throws him that Mona Lisa stonewall that haunted his conscience all those wonderful years.

"OH....yeah."

"I hear ya, just know, I am vulnerable right now, it feels risky enough meeting in public."

"You'll be fine, just don't do anything stupid."

"That's just it, I need you to watch out for me."

"If you can make it out toward campus you can join the lunch crowd."

"Sounds fun...so do you teach?"

"Not so much, not yet, if I do, right now I just tech. Take care of the lab equipment."

"I'll bet you do - SORRY, my mouth, see you make me feel better and I get this way."

"Just park in a visitors lot, maybe call my desk first, the gang is pretty much these washed-up academics bantering on and on. Somehow it never gets old." 

"I'm sure you fit right in." She pauses a second. "Would it be OK if I call your mom sometime?"

"I think that would do you both some good." He looks over to find her wilted. "In fact, come on over."

Those pale blue eyes are relieved and startled. "Are you sure?"

"You'll be a hit. Mom always makes or orders more for leftovers."

She follows him over in her gold mid-80s Grand Am that's seen better days but still rolling. This does her well and she sticks around till Tim calls.

It's still nice out so they sit for a while on the 'Doba. 

"Do you still have a guitar to headbang with?"

"Heh, the other day Noreen and I did a Led Zep number at the school for a stupid, well kinda talent show, not that I claim any talent."

"And you were a jackass and didn't invite me? Who sang?"

"I think the activities folks were taping it. I strummed chords, my arms felt like noodles, she sang and played bass."

"Swanson your arms ARE noodles. But I would love an encore, was it that Whole Lotta Love you used to sing to me?"

"Nahh it's a, I think a b-side, Hey Hey What Can Ya Do?"

"Story of my life."

"If there's one thing I've learned this year, anything's possible."

"On that note, let's see if it's possible to get to my room without interaction at this time of night."

Before she heads out they embrace tactfully and she promises to call when she gets to the house.

Nick falls asleep with her voice echoing in his head, afraid to admit how much he’s missed it.

The Cloud

 March 1981

"Well today we learn about Ahab and Jezebel..." starts Mrs. Alberta King, legendary Sunday School artist-in-residence, at a table shared with a motley assortment of four third-graders, separated by a wheeled chalkboard from the fourth-graders.

Nick thinks of the Ray Stevens classic Ahab the A-rab but doesn't bite, he'd already gone down that road with his mom and got lectured in the car, although Ned had even chimed in before she got upset. Across the table sits the reserved and shy visiting granddaughter of some regulars, the fair brown-haired April, who keeps her eyes on the teacher as much as possible. Not surprisingly, to her right gleams the equally un-shy Juan Marin who had already introduced himself to their visitor. In response, April blushed while still staring at the teacher, who had already made the expected observation, "it's almost your month, dear!"

Rounding out the group is another regular, Steve Guy, tall, lanky, big ears and sometimes brought his latest completed model car or airplane in to show off; a respectable hobby Nick could never remember to pick up among his usual preoccupations.

Today our hero settles into the usual routine of staring at the wall, and then the table, thankfully Betty's not one of those who craves eye contact to imply attention. The adults call their teacher Betty but this is a gray area for kids so Nick always avoided addressing her. 

He's not feeling the best, felt little swirls of chills ever since he got up and wanted to go back to bed more than usual this morning. While staring blindly between the coeds across the table he subconsciously wonders if April's concentration is deliberate or a shyness thing, when something stirred deep within, alas, something wanted out the back door.

This is an unusual dilemma in such a situation, hopefully just gas and nothing more, this is no time for theatrics, just...easy...easy...it floats on out and he nods down to sample the wares for good measure, should be nothing more than breakfast making its rounds.

The next breath proves otherwise. This is not good. Another breath. 

Have mercy.

His chills start to mingle with a bit of heat in the chest and ears. 

Just to gauge the room a little he casually glances back up at the same wall. April's face is slightly red again.

The aroma has gotten stronger after mixing with air, with a disturbing edge, a smoldering tire fire at the upwind side of town as the breeze picks up. After Nick takes a couple more disparaging breaths Betty pauses, then interjects,

"Does anyone need to use the restroom?"

After another pregnant pause, Jose pipes up, "I think someone already did, geez louise."

"Before I continue, does anyone have a...situation?"

April's face is deepening in hue, eyes are concerned, maybe fearful? Yet unwavering.

Jose, who shows up because he wants to and always by himself, "Mizz King we need to pray for whoever crapped 'em."

Nick can only put his forehead on the table and give in to laughter, he can hear Steve start to chuckle, and showing a new side, quickly throws in, 

"C'mon Nick did you do that?"

Without thinking, he blurts out "Well it sure ain't the new girl."

Betty steps in, probably a tad fazed at where this has gone, "BOYS! Is this any way to treat a visitor? Alright, if we can continue on..."

Like a pro, within a couple sentences she resumes the same cadence as the chuckles fade. Nick gets courage to glance up to survey April's face, nearly back to a normal tone but with an expression that echoes how badly they all just want to get out of here. Otherwise, he keeps his head down through the closing prayer.

In the service, just before the offering gets passed Nick spikes a fever and so they go home early, he spends the next two days home from school reflecting on it all and never brings it up. 

In coming weeks, after the high alert of the Hinkley shootings dies off a bit, he realizes that poor April's grandparents hadn't been around much ever since that fateful morning.

C'mowwwwn

June 1980

"Alright that's about enough of that you fuckers!" Tim taunts into the CB mic as Nick checks that no adults around as his ears get warm.

The response is a cacophony of the usual smack that greets young voices, "hey leave the radio alone and go play with your dollies," which is pretty much what prodded Tim to drop the big one in the first place.

He picks his moment to carry on, "Sorry I got a little rambunctious there," then turning on the swagger for a rehearsed line, "but you ain't got no maneuver, boy!"

That was a phrase the boys had worked out for this kind of situation, although Nick wasn't very comfortable with the Big Word, but then again at least his team had something to say on the local airwaves.

The same voice comes back, "what about that manure?" just as Tim hops out to catch someone on his bike.

Toward the end of the school year Nick had gotten wind that someone down the street was selling a CB for 15 bucks and begged for that to be his birthday. Irene quickly pointed out how he really needs clothes but that's more of a gift for herself in reality. Ned countered that he wouldn't mind having one in the Maverick. Nick countered that he wouldn't mind having one in his room with an antenna on the TV tower which got vetoed right away, not surprisingly. Didn't even make it to a committee review. 

In the back of his mind Nick felt they were probably right but he had to try. He walked with Ned a couple blocks down to the address they had on a piece of paper, to be greeted by some wiry gal with huge glasses and a lit cigarette who got her husband from the living room who was glad to make the sale on a sturdy 23-channel Johnson.

On the walk back Ned noted their base station antenna, "just watch it when you get on this thing, OK? you never know who's listening."

"Are we going to get a license?"

"Yeah I can send in the form, but...well, how about you let me use the call sign and you mostly listen for now, got it?"

Nick really wanted to use a call sign kinda like Paps but relented, "Okay." 

"Besides if you want your own call sign you gotta learn the Morse Code, you know that." Nick figured some day he will do that, but for now he just wants to play CB like on those Burt Reynolds movies he's really not supposed to watch on TV.

After patiently waiting for the next weekend Ned gradually started getting it set up in his work car, the orange '74 Maverick that Irene never liked to drive with the stick shift, although it seemed she was pretty good at it. He had an old bumper mount antenna lying behind the work bench that would do for starters.

Tim didn't really see the point at first but got interested after hearing female voices on there.

Ned had admonished them at the supper table, "Now remember it's not really for kids so if you hear anything bad I want you to turn it off. You should stay on Channel 14 since that's what walkie talkies use and those don't need a license. OH, and don't EVER tell anyone where we live, got it?" Something about this speech felt like it was mostly to make his mom feel better.

Finally his chance came to mess with it on his own without anyone hovering around. Ned had wired it so he wouldn't need the key in the ignition to mess with the CB, that was a condition, so that no one could come up and run off with him in the car and devastate his poor mother.

Nick starts out safe on 14 with a hail but no one comes back. Up on 19 there's some distant sounding chatter from the highway outside of town. Down on 4 there's someone calling himself "Mobile" - as in the city way down on the Gulf? Nick had heard the 'skip' signals on a walkie talkie before. He tries to reach Mobile but no response of course.

But then finally while turning the dial wheel he finds pretty strong activity on 16. The meter goes clear up into the red and it's an adult male voice "Tony the Tiiiger...Towwwnny Tiger, c'mown?"

"Tonytonytonytony got dem ears on? Come back this is Twoody-toucan Sam, commown."

Finally after a couple tedious minutes of this "yeah we gotcha there Sam, old lady was -" then a slight scuffling before a female voice takes over, "watch who you call old, you dumb shit!"

The original caller breaks in, "that you Momma Bear? How's that honey pot?"

"You wish you knew doncha Sam?"

"Awwww yeah darlin'!" Sam laughs it off then Tony comes back and they go on about work which evidently involves towing and pallet jacks. 

These folks are probably his parents' age or a little younger, seem to be free to say what they want. His mind was trained to wonder, do they go to church? They sound more like bikers or the kind that goes to bars and smoke and have tattoos; like certain other kid's parents that his own parents don't really want him to be around.

As Nick processes all this he figures these characters must have the base antennas on their houses and 16 must be where they hang out.

And evidently he forgot to lock the car door since this is when Tim shows up.

I am Inigo Montoya

 Monday Morning

Well no one can say the office is without decor. 

Yesterday's practice was, in a word, interesting, typically surreal for one of their adventures and mainly due to the sense Nick had that they were on to something with the old Zepp number.

He showed up with his acoustic and of course she had been at her bass and little 20 watt amp probably since first of daylight and had a makeshift chord chart set up on the little ottoman in front of an old wooden folding chair.

"Thought you'd be groggy enough to want to sit for a while, but stand if you want, makes no nevermind to me, dear."

After a squeeze and brief inspection his demeanor she's too geeked to leave the bass alone and starts in before he can get set up but it's good to hear it some first. Gradually he finds a chord here and there and it takes shape. It doesn't seem to sound like the record but with her driving it, hey, hey, what can ya do, this might just work.

When she seems to go into some kind of endgame he pipes up, "isn't there some kind of motion with some of the chords?"

"Wing it." Doesn't even look his way and starts back in.

This continues about half an hour till they break for TV and sammiches but she pretends to be resistant to any advances, not that he's up to it. The vibe seems to be understood that this is a season of less carnal forms of bonding.

At some point he mentions the machine message from Deej that he hasn't had a chance to return yet.

"Isn't she at that school over in Misery?"

"Heh, yeah, Astigal...when we met up I referred to to it as Ass Tickle and she didn't seem to appreciate it."

This earns a snicker, "Well she may have a lot of reverence for the place."

"I guess....just kinda funny, she is a free spirit in a lot of ways, but her family was always pretty committed."

"You mean...."

"Church, church school, churchy stuff."

"Gotcha." And takes a bite. "Well, a lot of folks tend to stay in their mold. You are a special case Swanson, you broke through, and look what it got you."

He just grins and looks her way.

"What?"

After a pause, "I'm looking at what it got me."

"OH," and she hops up, "Close your eyes, fool, time to stretch your mind."

He complies, "alright lady but not sure my mind is very flexible at this point."

After a moment Nick feels a whiff of something in front of him, "okay."

She's holding a small, unframed painting of a beach scene, blue wave approaching from the left and a man in some kind of medieval garb confronting the wave with a sword.

After a healthy stare he offers, "Interesting."

"Yeah yeah, have you ever seen Princess Bride?"

"Oh, yeah back in high school but I couldn't really follow it, seemed kinda nutty."

"I'll bring it over some time and for a refresher, your folks might like it too, but that....him...I was thinking of the...um, the Spaniard...I am Inigo Montoya...you killed my father...prepare to DIE!".

"Yeah I'll need a refresher."

"Ain't that the truth. Anyway, one morning I woke up thinking, what if the sea had taken his father...how do you take vengeance in that situation."

Nick is given pause, raises both eyebrows to a degree. "Dayamm."

"And there ya go, sport. Why don't you take this with you?"

"I have some wall space above my desk between the shelves."

She pecks his cheek then hops up to wrap it in some plastic.

And so around 17 hours later Nick starts his week by pounding in some nails from the garage with a borrowed hammer, bottom pair at a downward angle then top pair at an upward angle to secure it just as Goody appears in the doorway.

"Decorating, Young Jedi? Glad you feel better already."

"Got an original work here, she hopes it will inspire my thoughts."

"Well hope springs eternal. Lessee....wow, not bad, pretty talented gal, she must see you as a blank canvas," as he expertly ducks away.

Wanna Do A Song?

Saturday

Sometimes the evening reruns are in the same slot as the weekday, and that's pretty much been the case since they brought M*A*S*H out of the vault along with the complete series on VHS in case you have a spare closet to store all the seasons.

Hawkeye is counseling Radar when the phone rings, Nick answers in his room since he has an idea.

"So you're alive?"

"Yeah better just not motivated." He had done some desk stuff earlier to the tune of several code conversations that faded in and out, copied some but mostly had it on for company. Finally won his fourth hand of solitaire and messed with the modem some.”

"It's the weekend babe. Were you watching Simpsons?"

"M*A*S*H."

"Oh I always forget those are back on, my parents never missed, man I was a senior when they did the big ending, that's all we talked about."

"I remember them pulling down tents I think."

"Probably not as big of a deal in, what, sixth?"

"Was more into Happy Days."

"Oh yeah, (tauntingly) Jenn-nny Picc-a-lo."

"Bill-lee Aye-dolll."

"Oh bite it Swanson."

"Bear it."

"Be a good boy and rest up and we'll see..."

"Actually..."

Pauses. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, just seems...dunno..." and she waits patiently for him to collect his thoughts. He sighs. "I have access to such great....you know."

"Ummm..."

"Like this past week, we totally did it all."

"Well, not...all."

"Yeah not technically, but it seems, I dunno, I have it too good, if that makes sense."

Longer pause. "You just made my day sweetie."

Nick didn't know what to say so just let it float.

She sighs. "Nick...we've each had some rough patches, time in the wilderness -"

"I know."

"Sometimes it's like this, but the future is uncertain, I'll be busier in coming months, you may be too, we'll have to plan our time...are you thinking of teaching?"

"Actually more tempted to do more student-ing."

"Wow, great, which degree?"

"Prolly comp sci."

"God you're a nerd."

"You teach Chaucer."

"You know the drill, pick a cheek and pucker, sucker."

"Howbout just that for half an hour."

"You are killing me. I'd settle for just a quiet bath."

"Like that one night?"

"Umm, no, that was a LOUD bath  - AHEM - nice as that was..."

"And jazz."

"And jazz."

"We need a project."

"You know I think we do."

"Wanna do a song?"

"Funny you should say that..."

"Should I laugh?"

"Just look in the mirror. Alright, ever heard that Zeppelin, it's about, lemme try - " Clears her throat, "I SAID I GOT A LITTLE WOMAN AND SHE WON'T BE TRUE," with a decent falsetto, not that Nick knows that word yet.

He has to set the phone on the bed until he can stop laughing.

"You there? You ballentine PRICK are you LAUGHING?" She switches to Cockney, "I'll slit yew up a treat f'this!"

"Oh honey..."

"Honey my other cheek, do you know that one or you yankin' my wank?"

"OH yeah, rock radio played the hell out of it a couple years ago, box set extra track I think. And I thought you weren’t into Led Zepp."

"Did I say that? Must have been a mood, but I love to sing like Plant. So if you can keep your hands out of your pants I can show you the chords and I'll play bass."

"Or teach me the bass part."

Silence.

"OK I better learn the chords."

"Yes you better."

"And you'll learn the words."

"You know what, I think you got a little TOO much rest the past couple days."

"Wanna make some music tomorrow?"

"Call me in the morning."

"I'd rather call you Sweet Cheeks."

"Howbout this - we each soak tonight with some jazz?"

"I think that can be arranged."

"Just watch out for tadpoles."

"Hey how'd you know about-"

"Gunnite, love you." And like a pro she doesn't give him any more chances.

He gets his soak in before SNL starts and digs out his acoustic to try and warm up the hands.

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.