The Dairy Stand

Wednesday July 21, 1988

For the moment, as reality is held in suspension, Nick has been following the Cubs more often than not this summer on WGN radio. It’s always a toss up how they’ll do, and every now and sometimes a weekend game gets picked up by one of the nearby TV stations. Nick is starting to wish they had cable, but Ned only trusts newspapers and Irene thinks they watch too much TV as it is. 

Sigh.

And so Tuesday was a strange haze, but not one without hope, just…surreal. But in a surprisingly comfortable way, despite the circumstances. The evening skies this summer take on a reddish glow towards sundown, maybe it has to do with the crazy weather.

Today finds him at the dairy stand patio seated across from Geena. This was Irene’s idea and Geena seems as nervous as Nick feels. 

With another fresh ten in his wallet (and nothing else, mind you…) and the keys to the wagon he drove very conservatively, especially not having ventured out to the main drag very much, although, he’ll need to get used to it if seeking entry-level employment soon.

She just wanted fries and a diet whatever but he got a burger, small fries, and a mocha shake - not on the menu but most times they can make ‘em. It’s just a tad muggy but that heartland breeze makes up for it. If it were a week later they would have gone to the fair.

They had already talked about the Cubs some, her family usually went to a few games a year but have slowed down considerably as kids grew up and left the nest.

When the conversation hits a lull, she calls out the elephant.

“Nick, you seem to be handling things well, I hope…well, I don’t know what else to say.”

He takes a slurp of shake, “It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, best I can say, I never know what to make of it till later.”

She smiles, “Coming from you that makes sense.”

Nick searches for words, “She’s such a character, she’s one of those that will really live on…” and he trails off.

“She’s being cremated right?”

“Yeah, she didn’t want to be a burden to transport or take up space, that kinda thing.”

“Hmm.”

Nick just stares on.

“She sounds very unique indeed.”

“And I’m relieved, this might sound bad, but I didn’t want to see her in a coffin. I probably would have not been able to go.”

She reaches over and clasps his arm. 

For whatever reason, Nick blurts out, “You look nice today.” Which is true, she has on a floral top that brings her eyes out.

“Nick.”

“Well.”

“This shouldn’t be about me.”

“But you shouldn’t go ignored, either.”

Her expression has lightened up considerably and things are at ease for the first time today, at least, for a few seconds.

A voice comes from the side, in a rather whining tone,

“Geeeeena, I thought you weren’t seeing anyone?”  They look to Nick’s right to see a fellow about his own age walking up, blond crew cut, lanky as can be with long arms, furled brow and, well, a very angular face that shouts chronic frustration. Nick perceives this character is not terribly advantaged intellectually and runs on pure reaction.

Her face clouds up in a heartbeat, “Ted, we talked about this, there’s nothing between us, and you can’t just interrupt our lunch.”

“But you LIED! You’re a Christian and you LIED to me,” with a finger getting increasingly closer to her face causing her to flinch, then starts to cry, then as his face turns to anger, Nick instinctively grabs Ted’s left hand and pulls his thumb back, which thankfully drops Ted to his knees.

“Ted, don’t you think you should walk away now?”

Ted gasps, “Let…go…”

Nick stares at his face, “When I let go, you start running, do you understand?”

More gasps, “Yes…”

Nick counts, “Three…two…ONE.” Then lets go with a snap, after which Ted rolls over to catch his feet and takes off as if from a starting block, in a very Jerry Lewis kind of manner, and nearly knocks over some folks getting their order from the counter.  

Nick watches for a few seconds until Ted disappears around the rear of the grocery then checks on Geena who has her face covered.

About then someone from the dairy stand comes out, probably the owner, wearing a white apron,

“Everything OK?”

Geena keeps still so Nick answers, “Yeah, seems to be now.”

“Okay, good.”  then looks at them in turn.

“I think we’re about ready to go actually.”

“Okay, well…thanks for your business.”

Nick offers, “Well it was really good.” just as said owner turns around and hurries back around the building.

Geena is looking at him finally, with a strange grin he’s never seen.

They clean up their table and proceed to the car with what’s left of their drinks and she takes his arm and leans on it. 

“Nick that was amazing, I mean - I don’t care for violence, but you got the point across. How did you think of that?”

“That’s how we always dealt with dipshit kids in the neighborhood.”

Geena nearly drops her cup and buries her head in his chest laughing, “I may need a minute.”

“I’m serious, we’d be doing something in the yard and if they wear out their welcome we offer a little…encouragement.”

Eventually they get back to the car and he lets her in the passenger side, then takes his seat, then realizes they hadn’t planned beyond this.

“Umm, where we going?”

Silence.

He looks over and she’s still grinning that grin. “I have an idea, can I navigate?”

“It’ll be good driving practice.”

She fights back giggle, draws a breath, “Okay…”

Within 3-5 minutes she has him park along a residential street then they walk up to a house on the opposite side, she finds keys in her purse and opens it.

“So this is your summer home?” Nick offers.

“Summers and holidays, can’t beat the rent,” as she turns around and plants her lips onto his and gently tightens an embrace.

Nick responds in kind, as best he knows how, but he gets the idea she’s a novice at this too, except she has a lot of conviction.

Gradually she works in some tongue, hers is silky soft, and some things are starting to make more sense even as a lot of questions arise. Actually more than questions are starting to rise, and he has to remember to breathe now and then.

At one point she stops and removes her shoes, and so he does the same, then she takes his hand and and leads him to the sofa, where she takes a place on his lap and kisses his cheek a few times, she whispers

“If this is okay…no one should be home for a while…we keep our clothes on…deal?”

“Deal.” It would be really cool to have a clever response but she’s clearly in charge and that’s a good thing. Also, he remembers she’s wearing one of those denim skirts, ye shroud of a thousand mysteries, some of which may not be so mysterious in the near future.

And so it continues, but she centers herself astride, kinda hovering on her knees, hands on his face, she picks up from before, the tongues, and now he has to figure out what not to do with his hands.

Tim always said you start with her head, for what that’s worth, but it sounds right, and so he does, that hair smells so nice, he can taste her foundation, his hands caress her head, sometimes her ears, then rub her shoulders.

He detects a tangy, almost sour aroma mixed in with their sweat, and now she’s feeling his chest, maybe that’s a clue? And is her butt more or less…sacred…than her chest? Well she went chest first so he better mix it up, bottom’s up. So he slips one hand down there as a bit of a surprise and she moans, OK, maybe he got it right. Her bum is nice and soft, but he keeps one hand on her head and switches off a few times.

Pretty soon she takes her hands away and he realizes she’s undoing her bra strap, and for some reason with her head turned he licks her ear and she nearly collapses on him. Once that’s done she starts kissing his neck, so he does the same, then timidly starts finding his way inside that floral top that brings her eyes out.

Her back is smooth and it actually takes him a while to find her bosoms, in all the flurry but there they are, perky as he’d thought with small yet very awake nibbles, hard as pebbles - neighbor kids used to say that, when they claimed they saw a girl’s mom topless at their house, she had HUGE titties and you could see her nibbles. 

At this point he really wants to see if he can lift her shirt up for a visit, even a quick one, but she gasps, 

“Can you lie down?”

So he does, and finds a pillow beneath his head to adjust, and she is once again astride but with her very warm crotch against his, and she starts to rub. After a few strokes he starts to catch on, so he pulls up his shirt then reaches in his shorts to line up his fuselage with the landing strip, as it were, and she makes the adjustment.

From some tawdry tune, no idea who sings, but a lyric comes to mind, honey you got the gasoline and I got the spark.

And so this rhythm continues, in a way not surprising, and he still has access to her blossoms, and sneaks a quick lick now and then, which eggs her on, he still touches all the other spots, sometimes holds on to her bottom. Eventually he realizes he will probably fire one off at some point, so he undoes his belt just a bit and pulls the tip out, and this really eggs her on, she squeezes it a little bit, Nick caresses both her bosoms, feels it close, reaches beneath the skirt to grasp both buns,

As it happens for him, it seems to happen for her and for all of creation. She keeps two fingers on his little head the whole time, she calls out, 

“Nicky Nicky…Nicky, thank you so much…oh,” then twitches two or three times, then keeps kneading his thing, which is too much after a while, so he takes her hands and pulls her on to his chest as they catch their breath.

Finally he asks, “You OK?”

“Never better. Well, I…never mind, Nick this was what I needed.”

“Same here.”

He thinks she may have dozed off for just a few seconds, then suddenly with a sober voice, 

“Mmm, OK, we’ll get cleaned up then can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Sounds good.”

“OK, don’t move, I’ll bring you a cloth.”

Nick has his eyes closed as she slowly gets up but feels her lips on his for a few lingering seconds, then she floats away. 

At this point he realizes she never turned on the lights, the drapes are mostly closed and he doesn’t even know what color this couch is but it is good quality and the house smells clean, not surprising. He hears water running in a bathroom somewhere, and he may have dozed off when her voice comes into range, 

“Okay, this is silly but we have to share a washcloth, I rinsed it out with soap so we don’t share germs.”

“I’m not worried,” and reaches out his hand and feels a warm, damp wash cloth then starts cleaning up.

“All set?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, um, I was a mess down there.”

“Damn.” Nick only had a vague idea what she meant, don’t they only produce enough wetness to aid intercourse? This was just…outercourse?

She giggles, then cheerfully, in that thin, perky voice, “Hey, where’d my little friend go?” Then starts fishing in his pants.

Nick is startled and starts to squirm, but she keeps digging till she gets a grip on the shrunken head and pulls it back out and plants a kiss on it, then,

“Hey it’s only fair, you had a chance at my goodies.”

“True,” he mutters.

She grabs the washcloth then heads back to wherever and he packs himself back up, and he hears the water running for a good  minute. Must be covering the trail for laundry, no awkward questions, something he would do.

Once all is set they get back in the car, and agree on Needles Park, where else.  The rest of the ride is quiet but she glances at him often. It feels like they should hold hands but she keeps admonishing, “Ten and two!”

They find a picnic table in the shade and sit on the top, she leans on him, then starts,

“Nick I  want to say this was unexpected, but you probably know I was hoping for it, maybe you were too. And you know I’m not some tart looking for a good time, but...”

“I know.”

“Most of my friends agree that this kind of thing is healthy, to explore things so you’re not totally caught off guard on a honeymoon, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” Nick had never thought of it that way, but is glad she has some clarity.

“You’ve been so nice to me…you’re so…real, and we have this…mmm, chemistry, I held out as long as I could, no one else had seemed right, and you’ve been through a lot…they say God moves in mysterious ways, I’d say this qualifies.”

“Hmm.”

She lets it go for a bit, then draws a breath, “Nick, has our…fellowship, helped you get through the loss?”

“I’m sure it has,” he responds instinctively, since he can’t answer from reason.

She looks up at him to confirm, he answers with a peck on her lips, to which she exhales and leans back on his shoulder, then finally, 

“Do you look forward to being married?”

This gives him chills, not the angle he’s used to reasoning with.

“Um, I don’t really think about it.”

She pauses. “I suppose a lot of guys don’t, well, some gals, too.”

“Yeah. I just want to get a degree and go from there.”

“Such a wise young man. Do you want to have kids?”

“I don’t think I can get pregnant.”

She bites his bicep “Nick you’re a stinker you know that? Seriously.”

“Not particularly.”

Geena clears her throat and traces her finger on his forearm. 

“I bet you do.”

“Yes, I love children.”

“Then go for it.”

She muses, “I suppose we don’t get to have a relationship for very long do we?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“Yeah, I suppose so, this has been great - oh, crap, what do I tell your mother? I hope I didn’t mess you up.”

“Umm, no, you’re very sweet and nice.”

“Thanks, but I can’t just…” she pauses and sighs, “how about I say we shared a moment but you were a complete gentleman?”

“I can live with that.”

“Can we keep in touch? Maybe…well, when I come back? Oh and…well, if you aren’t seeing anyone? If anything changes, write me? I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

She looks up and smiles and they seal it with a peck.

“So what are you doing the rest of the day?”

Nick has to think, “Just been going with the flow, I think the Cubs play later, might finally try fishing upstream here.”

She pauses, “I’m cooking supper tonight if you wanna test your gag reflex.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

She beams, “Well we’d be chaperoned  at least and it’ll get you out of the house, we can watch the game.”

“I have a feeling I should say yes.”

She pecks his cheek, “Right answer.”

So they head back to his house so she can officially head home, and she asks, 

“Did you ever think of a message for Danni?”

“If you talk to her, tell her I hope she’s doing well.”

She smiles and squeezes his arm.

Miss Geena

Monday July 19, 1988

Forget solo fishing at the river, the Swansons made an impromptu trip up to see Paps and Gramma, for which they were due. They had called first but still found them dozing off in the living room. Paps had been more tired than usual lately and was almost convinced to get a fresh checkup, just to be sure.

So that trip did its trick and thankfully no messages on the machine, and watching the miles and farms and towns go by helped our hero process the past week, this scrawny, loony and potentially genius gal had really gotten deeper inside his veins, but now it feels like the needle’s being snapped off.

They dined on wonderful leftovers and didn’t get back till prime time reruns, just reruns and movies, but still, Nick took the couch and joined Irene for Murder She Wrote then dozed in and out during some movie.

After a shower he found hearts of space and dozed off to that, woke up having to pee, thought about shortwave but kept the classical on.

The worst part is not being able to make her laugh. Even if he could call her room…she needs to rest and heal.

He has been trying not to think about, what if she has feelings, hasn’t been time to explore yet. It’s great when they sit close but it doesn’t really stir anything carnal, it’s pretty free from that, like a safe space - a cartoon? Yea, it’s like being in a cartoon the way they riff and play tricks, but it’s just...nice.

Things are never cut and dry in life, are they?

Geena…Geena, Geena, Geena….there’s a bit of stirring there, but too many questions he wouldn’t want to ask.

This is no time for such meanderings though.

Gradually he dozes off longer and longer each time until he hears the piano and abruptly sits straight up, really having to pee at this point and not wearing a stitch. He scrambles himself into some clean drawers, old jeans and a muscle shirt bearing the logo of Ned’s employer then darts into the bathroom, does the morning business and heads down to pour a bowl of generic honey-nut Cheerios.

Before reaching the bottom step, Miss Geena darts over at lightning speed and proves she has freakishly strong arms, 

“OH Nick I’m so sorry!” 

He tries to respond but can only grunt.

Irene just looks at them with a mixture of surprise and amusement as Geena buries her head in his collarbone and whispers, evidently in prayer.

Finally he manages, “Can’t breathe.” He could actually breathe a little, but the grip she had was quite powerful and he needed to feel free. Plus, her rather pert forbidden fruits pressed against his ribcage are a sensation one does not relish while his mother is watching.

She relents, “Sorry, sorry Nick,” and reaches up to peck his cheek, which sends half his face into a tingly flutter, again, in front of Mom. “You know she’s in God’s hands, we hope for good news today.”

“Yeah definitely.”

Geena heads back to the piano and they pick up as Nick seeks refuge in the kitchen for some late brefkist. Sometimes surrealism becomes a buoyant, sustaining matter in and of itself. 

He figures the call will come sometime around mid-day, so there’s a little time for something, but nothing sounds good. 

After cereal and some peanut-butter toast he heads upstairs and gets his acoustic out, seems appropriate to bang out some Smoke On The Water in C, but then that’s never been his favorite riff, so it becomes a meditation in some minor chords, Am, Dm, Em, and seems G and C fit in there, all derived from a Mel Bay book.

Nick sets it down to just listen to the piano churning out the familiar bible school standards that they used to sing in the sanctuary amid the crafts, lessons, punch and cookies. One year the aging Mrs. Wallace was handing out the cookies on a napkin and made sure Nick held his with both hands, barking, grab a hold if it! - evidently one little hand wasn’t enough. Nick mentioned that to Irene in recent years and she admitted that Mrs. Wallace wasn’t very pleasant to be around, but then, why the hell did he nearly get decapitated for pointing that out back then?

He may have dozed off again but awakens to some repeated chord phrases that Geena must be working through, so he picks up the guitar again and picks up where he left off. At one point she yells up the stairs, 

“That’s pretty, can I come up there?”

Nick gets chills. “Yeah sure.”

The footfalls get closer and she emerges.

Nick keeps the guitar in hand and motions for her to sit on the bed (damn), then asks, 

“Are you finished?”

“Taking a break, almost ready for prime time.”

“You sound really good.”

She just smiles.

Nick goes on with his chords, been trying arpeggio and sometimes it comes together, sometimes just a pile of notes, but then he doesn’t do this every day.

“I always wanted to play guitar.”

“Same here.”

She giggles.

“Yeah I just mess around with it, wanted to do metal but that seems lame now.”

“Someone loaned me a Stryper tape one time and it was too much.”

Nick just smirks and keeps strumming, then thinks, why not, 

“Do you have time to take a walk? There’s the playground down the street.”

He looks up to find her evidently surprised and maybe delighted.

“I’ve got time, sounds really nice.”

What do girls mean by that? Oh yeah, he uses that word too.

“Cool.”

She shifts her position a couple times, then gets up, “Well she’s probably about ready to keep going, I’ll, umm….”

“Okay.”

Nick watches her leave and notes she smells wonderful, kinda floral, and her white shorts are not revealing but just package her well. The thought of sniffing where she sat makes him chuckle on the inside but he’ll probably turn the bed cover over since it would be like invading her privacy. 

He shakes his head, but then, Sab is all about finding fun little distractions wherever she goes, and so…yeah.

* * * * * 

“So what do you listen to these days if not metal?”

“Mostly stuff from the library or on 106, found a lot of stuff form the early 70s, Yes, Mott the Hoople, Bad Company, Zeppelin of course, and some newer stuff here and there. I try to tape stuff I like.”

Geena just holds a gaze, an expectant gaze as they stroll to the playground.

“So yeah, mostly rock, starting to like the bluesier stuff.”

She looks forward, time to bring her into it, 

“Howbout you?”

After a pause, “You can probably guess, Amy Grant, Sandi Patty, Carman.”

“Why would I guess that?”

“I’m lame.”

“Geena.”

“Nick…how do you feel free…to listen to whatever you want, didn’t you challenge your old church - I mean, sorry if that’s a sore subject.”

“You’re fine, and I just…well, it’s like American history, you have to fight for freedom.”

She sighs heavily.

Nick lets her ponder.

“I’m not sure I want to be that free.”

For some reason a line from Star Trek comes to mind, not that he knows the episodes well, but one time Ned pointed out the one with Khan from the movie. So he offers this, 

“Do you watch Star Trek?”

She muses, “Here and there, that's mainly my dad’s thing, why?”

“One time Khan is talking to the woman, she’s part of the crew but they fall in love, he says, stay or go, but do it because you want to.”

After a few steps, “So…”

“Well, to me it’s like, if you find a home in the church, then stay…”

“Oh…and you didn’t?”

“Damn right.”

She giggles.

“Yeah it never made sense to me, and I saw things that seemed wrong, and no one else seemed to care or wanted to fix it.”

She looks over, “You’re an idealist.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

She smiles and takes his arm, and this unlikely pair hits the swings, and she picks it up.

“So you don’t think I’m a square?”

“Actually you’re a babe.”

“WHAT?”

“Did I stutter?” He smiles to soften it up a bit.

“Nick.”

“What?”

“I didn’t expect a complement.”

“How about honesty?”

“I know but you have a girlfriend!” This is in a very emphatic tone, reminds him of Natalie on Facts of Life.

“She’s a friend that happens to be a girl. We just hang out and goof off. It’s like a cartoon.”

They lock eyes through several head-turning cycles of the swings at near-opposite phase, until she looks away and shakes her head. Nick notices her eyes are not brown but a dark suede blue, like that Cars song, but he’s not about to point that out right now.

Finally she continues, “Nick I hope I’m not leading you on, this is really nice, and I didn’t think about starting anything.”

“This is really nice, and I’m in no condition to start anything either, wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Weren’t you seeing someone last year?”

“Yeah, until the apocalypse happened.”

“Oh, yeah, did you stop talking?”

“I got a letter, it messed her up, everyone asking her about it…umm…” Nick trails off.

After a pause she looks at him, “So you haven’t spoken since?”

“The world changed and, well, water under the bridge, you know.”

“What’s her name?”

“Danni Eversole.”

“OH yeah Danni, wow, she’s….wow, if I’m a babe by your standards that really is a complement. We were at the same school till my junior year. Doesn’t she play sports?”

“Best pitcher I’ve ever seen, she’s magic.”

“I could probably get a message to her, you know, if you wanted.”

Nick pauses and looks forward, “We’ll see.”

She keeps looking at him, “Well, the world didn’t completely end did it?”

“No I guess not.”

She keeps looking at him, then, “Nick this is really unexpected, I didn’t think you’d want much to do with me.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Nick.”

He looks over to find her still gazing but flushed, and instinctively hops off his swing and offers his arm. He has no idea what’s happening. But, he picks it up,

“So you’re doing the crusade thingy soon?”

“Next week, over toward Indy, someone’s putting me up until the dorms open up.”

“Ahh.”

She sighs. “Nick I…”

For some reason he interjects, “Are you seeing anyone?”

She looks at him as if relieved. “Just dates here and there, mostly group things.”

“That’s safe.”

“Yes…yes it is,” with a very knowing emphasis.

“Do you stay with your folks in town then?”

“Yeah, my old room feels smaller and more foreign every time I come home. Didn’t your brother just go into the army? I bet his room will feel strange when he comes back.”

“Still smells like him unfortunately.”

She doubles over laughing and has to stop walking.

He gives her a second to recover, then, “Are you blessed with siblings?”

“I’m the youngest of three, actually I was a surprise, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah I try to avoid surprises.”

She looks over with a very loaded expression and shaking her head. “I need to pray for your mother.”

“I get that a lot.”

She leans on his shoulder and giggles to herself. Girls.

They stroll on, just taking in the day then head back to the house, but Irene has a sober expression.

“Marci called and left her number.”

Once again his limbs feel like those of a mannequins. As he grabs the cordless Irene and Geena exchange glances and head into the living room, Nick dials the number. First try is busy, so he steps out onto the patio and tries again after a few numb, endless minutes.

“Hello?”

“Marci?”

“Yes, Nick?”

“Yes.”

She draws a breath, “I think you know, do I have to say it?”

“I won’t make you say it if you won’t make me believe it.”

She pauses. “I think it’s gonna take time to believe it.”

“Yeah, a long time.”

She takes a couple more deep breaths. “Did you go fishing?”

“No but we took a trip and I had a walk with someone.”

“Good, good.”

“How about you?”

“About the same. Well, there’s more, if you’re ready.”

He blurts out “Go,” and nearly becomes distracted at the succinctness of that command.

“Ok, she asked to be cremated, you know, if she didn’t pull through, so after that they’ll come back and have a memorial service next week. Hopefully I’ll see you then?”

“You can count on it.”

“Thanks Nick. You will always be her friend, remember that.”

“Do the same, hang in there.”

“I will, take care.”

Time to find comfort in the other room, where he relayed the news and the ladies wept, one under each of his arms, somehow, in a calculus he’ll never comprehend, this was very cathartic.

Geena declines an offer to stay for lunch, not wanting to intrude, and when Nick saw her to her car where they exchange a mutual cheek peck.

Irene suggests they go get some flowers to lay on the family’s porch, and so they do that after somber sandwiches, with a note.

Once they get back home Nick tries to reach Deke and finally does at home, and nearly breaks down in the process.

“Nicky we’ll stop by together when they get back, how’s that?”

Other than that he spends a lot of time on the little front steps or the back patio, sometimes you can’t be comfortable in your own skin.

After work Ned sits with him a while and sighs a few times. 

“Nick I don’t have to say it, this just ain’t fair.”

“Yeah.”

Then pats his shoulder and heads in.

A bit of wanderlust sets in and he heads out on the bike to ride past the Staas household, and lo and behold, several other bouquets have popped up. This sets the tone for the week, to see how this does.

As the sun sets, classical radio for the save.

Unspoken

Sunday July 18, 1988

Nick spent the morning catching up on world news and a vast array of international miscellany on the shortwave bands. This time of year is kind for sky wave in the shorter wavelengths and so Europe and the various Caribbean relay sites come booming in. 

He had found a listening guide at the library in town and blew a couple bucks making copies since periodicals can’t be loaned out. Actually that was back in late winter, and so this became his new Sunday morning ritual with the help of a Heath receiver that Paps found at a hamfest last year and it became Nick’s Christmas from them (Tim the senior got an old sock full of change and crumpled  bills, which he had to count three times to get right…)

There’s also some English service from the Far East that comes in certain times, and he’s even caught Australia on occasion, thanks to that wire strung out into the tree outside his window that he keeps unplugged (and sometimes puts the end in an old Alka Seltzer jar) when not in use. Sometimes the signals drift in an out, and at night you’ll drift off listening to something only to awake to static or else a strong signal about 10 kHz away buzzing for attention.

Nick had slept well after fishing with Ned up at the usual spot, sandwiches for lunch in the rented boat, not many bites but it got them out of the house. 

Friday was a good day to chill out after Sabrina, that girl never stops. At one point she got out her trombone (something he’d never seen a girl play) and when her folks got home they were playing Smoke On The Water with Nick on bass as she lay on her back and worked the slide with a bare foot. Then after some excellent tacos she wants to see his room, despite the fact that she kept her door closed and always ran in to get things but hadn’t invited him to see it. At one point he’s pretty sure she left the door open to take a pee break while rehearsing their ensemble, although it’s not a huge deal since the jug is right next to the hinge side of the door.

On the way to his house he bugged her about seeing her room but she plays it off, oh it’s a shambles, or otherwise out of sorts from packing. This seemed like another one of her fun quirks, who knows, but she wanted to see the infamous tape machine and messed with his guitar some. This was the first time since grade school he’d had a non-related female in his room and his folks didn’t seem fazed by it, just glad he’s spending time with another human being for once.

“Wow this is so…Watergate,” she observes, which immediately prods Nick to bone up on Watergate at the liberry.

Another human being had been haunting his mind this weekend, and Nick was gradually coming to terms with why he tends to avoid Geena. After a couple more brief encounters in the past week he caught on to a few facts. First, her near perfection is not practiced nor engineered, it’s simply genuine and natural. This girl is simply gorgeous, not in a threatening way of course, respectfully, more of a Mary Lou Retton, very well made and doesn’t wear much makeup, just enough to highlight what’s already there, especially those rich eyebrows. She also has a fine petite figure hidden in plain sight by sound taste and a modest fashion sense. All that’s topped off by what always looks like a fresh haircut, reddish brown, short but done nicely, not one strand out of place.

And so, her gaze is burned into his brain and at times hovers before his minds eye, even though he only looks over in passing when she greets him from the piano. This causes some curiosity, even though she’s behind several walls, being older, in a vastly different life space, and seemingly devoted to some sort of ministry. Could his own gaze have lingered longer than he realizes?

At least this summer is shaping up to be more than it has been so far, there’s been more rain here and there at least.

Ned and Irene have settled into a new church here in town, very low drama and, at least at the moment, no assholes on the board.  Nick still has breakfast with them most weeks before they head out and it’s understood he’ll have some kind of reflective, restorative time – hopefully a bike ride if weather permits.

Now that the heat has broken some he might try to find a new local fishing hole some morning, if nothing else try a tightline to see if any bottom dwellers will drag him in. Legend has it someone pulled a cat out of that river with one eye, an anchor tattoo, and... and a lit cigar in its mouth - and then tried to steal the guy’s truck keys.

Nick takes a ride, without a watch, but times it well enough to get back just as his folks arrive with a box of fried chicken and tater salad, which always works.

They spread out in the living room with plates and Nick is nearly finished when the phone rings, Irene answers, then hands it to him with a shrug, mouthing, “Female voice.”

Nick takes the phone, “Hello?”

“Nick, this is Marci Dell, from school?”

Nick pauses. Marci had seemed indifferent to him at school, evading eye contact and seemed annoyed and somewhat prickly in his presence. And so, this didn’t seem right for more reasons than he could count.

“Hey…what’s up?”

“Bad news I’m afraid. I got a call from Tish Staas this morning…umm…*sniff*...sorry, this is hard.”

“It’s OK.”

“Umm, they took an early hike and Sabrina, you know how impulsive she can be, well, she…I think there was a flower in a bush, and there was a rattlesnake in it.”

Nick’s blood turned ice cold.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, just…man.”

“I know I know, you’re the first one I called, Sab’s very sick but gave them a list for me to contact.”

“Thanks for letting me know, we’ll hope for the best of course.”

He hears sobbing and nearly tears up himself.

“You OK?” Such a silly question but didn’t want to just let her cry in silence.

He hears a sigh, then, “Nick, her folks did the best they could, you know, try to draw it out, but they had to practically carry her a mile then drive to a phone, so it was at least 45 minutes before she got to a clinic.”

“Oh man.”

“Yeah.”

They both go silent for a few seconds.

Nick finally gets a few wits, “Marci I really appreciate you letting me know, if you want to take a walk or something…I might go fishing though.”  

“Thanks Nick, well, I’ll keep busy but the fishing sounds nice, I should hear more tomorrow, hopefully good news.”

Nick sighs, then semi-voices a “yeah.”

“Go fish or something, take care, Nick.”

“You too, talk soon.”

Nick had wondered over to the patio door with the cordless and felt like a walking mannequin when taking the phone back.

Irene looks up first, “Nick, you’re white as a sheet, what’s wrong?”

He sits on the couch, still in a daze. Finally he draws a deep breath and manages, 

“Sabrina was bitten by a rattlesnake.”

Ned puts down his paper and looks over, Irene joins him on the couch, “Oh sweetie.”

“Yeah.”

“Were they able to get the antidote?”

“Sounds like it took about an hour to get to a clinic.”

“Oh no.”

Nick lets that float.

Irene takes a deep breath, “Do you think it would be OK to put it on the prayer chain?”

Nick rests his face in his hands, draws a breath, “I get the feeling they might be Buddhist or something, can it be like, anonymous?”

“How about, an unspoken urgent healing need?”

Nick looks up, finding hope in the concern, “Yeah that would be it.”

“Okay.” Irene pecks him on the cheek then grabs the phone to get the wheels rolling.

Breakfast Club

Thursday July 15, 1988

Sabrina picks Nick up just before 9am, after dropping off her mom at the office and before Geena arrived - just makes it more sporting.

The deal was that she would drive out to campus and he’d pick up lunch, he had stashed some mowing money back since there hasn’t been much mowing and no reason to spend it, he was caught up on blank cassettes. Not surprisingly, Irene had slipped him a ten to “make sure”.

“So you might get a job soon?” She starts with, of all things.

“Yeah prolly at Casper’s, that seems to be the starting point.”

“Gonna pay your dues?”

“Yeah that’s a good way to look at it. I asked at Radio Shack but they don’t hire till 18, although the owner encouraged me to get some experience somewhere and stop by when it gets close next year. I swear the guy looks at me like raw meat since that’s my second home.”

She glances over with that smile that always seems to be up to something. The sun really gives her brown eyes a translucent sparkle.

Still, this feels like just what it is, two kids goofing off at the campus for a while.

“Doesn’t the Shack work on commission?”

“Something like that, not that I really need a paycheck, you know, responsibility…”

“Yeah I’ll probably intern here and there.”

“Just what are you going into?”

She just shakes her head slightly. “Your guess is as good as mine, but probably something, well, in my gene pool, social sciences. I really enjoyed Psychology last year, that would make a good prelaw.”

“With Basinger?”

“The same, he’s actually really good at frank discussions, we even talked about S E X.”

Nick clutches his chest and gasps.

“DUNN DUNN DUNNNNN,” she mocks before laughing.

Nick lets that die out a bit then ponders, “Why do people even have physical relations?”

She looks over with a smirk, “Nick, it’s funny, there’s no single answer to that, is there?”

“No I bet not, seems it’s more fun to just joke about it.”

“Hard to get a nasty rash that way huh? And what’s the saying, we mock what we don’t understand.”

“That’s a good saying.”

Nick pauses. “What year is this thing?” They were riding in Honda Civic with a stick shift, something he really envies her skill at even through she’s a rather casual driver, at least by what he’s used to. 

“It’s an ‘81, not surprisingly handed down from my brother, he has almost no need for one up there and can take a bus to Springfield at least.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“You’d like Fabe, he’s kinda far out, but fun.”

“Probably would make my head spin.”

“Nah he meets you where you are, should make a cool professor some day.”

“We need those.”

“Well he’s got a good example, we should be able to catch Dad in his office.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah he really is.”

Nick is tempted to ask who she had for driver’s ed but that would just put a target on his back, well, in a fun way, but he doesn’t want to criticize her driving. Besides, this is a scenic drive, he always enjoyed coming out here for trail walks.

“Too bad it might rain, well, we need the rain, would be nice to walk the trail.”

“Yeah, we have a few times.”

“We used to on Sunday afternoons now and then. One time Dad told me the noises in the pond were water doggies, pretty sure they were some kind of frogs.”

She covers her mouth and swerves slightly, “Sorry, but you probably believed him I bet.”

“Hey I was like five.”

She faces her window for a second, “That’s so cute!”

“Everything’s cute to girls.”

“Hey I get to be a girl when I want to, you complaining?”

“Well you’re a cool girl.”

“Yeah better quit while you’re ahead.”

Nick lets this float and looks out his window for a few hundred feet, and then, the big turn near the dairy stand sneaks up and it should only be another mile.

He thinks to ask, “So the library is open to the public?”

“Oh yeah, just need a campus ID to check anything out, but they have a lot of bound magazines that are fun. Most public libraries only have them on microfilm but these are right on the shelf.”

“Hmmm.”

“Can we try to catch Dad first?”

“Of course.”

Before long they’re in Gelding Hall, which always sounded more like a stable than a college building, and they raced up the stairs to the second floor, History and Human Sciences Department. The receptionist is on the phone but she smiles at Sabs and waves them on back. 

She knocks on the open door, to be greeted by, “Hey honey, come on in.”

Nick follows, and gets introduced. 

He responds, “Nice to meet you, professor.”

This gets a hearty laugh, “Oh Nick please, I’m Steve, just Steve…god whenever I’m addressed as professor I’m in for it, lemme tell ya. So you plan to enroll over at Tech in a couple years?”

And so they go over his inklings based on hobbies and family history, all sounds great, and sometimes Steve advises that faculty, etc.

“You’ll love it here Nick, I’m still amazed at all this place has to offer, let me know if I can ever help out, okay?”

“Sure, thanks Steve.”

Pretty soon they’re on the way to the library, but not after Sab slyly committed Nick to join them for supper. 

“Oh were’ not formal, we can sit in the living room - OH, wanna watch Breakfast Club?”

“Wow, yeah, I’ve only seen it once on TV.”

“Yeah they cut a lot out…”

“I could tell. That one dude, the hood, was kinda scary.”

“Bender? He’s definitely had a rough life.”

Nick lets that float, suddenly realizing he’s a bit out of school here. Heh, in more ways than one, it would seem.

The library is a couple minutes of walking, they just take it in under increasing clouds. To Nick at least this is still an extension of the chemistry labs, they walk about a foot apart like at school; this is a field trip of sorts.

Once inside they look for what they can find in current periodicals, she looks for a current psych journal but Nick has a hunch and finds an Esquire.

They find a table and she whispers, “Oh the Dubious Achievements they do at the end of the year are hysterical, Fabe used to collect those.”

Nick makes an intrigued face and pages through the current issue with plans to look up some doobies here in a bit.

Often times he just looks around the liberry itself to get a whiff of the next level, what’s to come after high school. This gives him hope like nothing else. 

He looks at Sabrina, absorbed in an article, she plays with her lip when concentrating and is probably bobbing a foot. That’s what makes her fascinating, she’s bustling with purpose, even though, when asked, she pretty much claims to figure it all out as she goes.

So he puts his issue back on the rack and tracks down the bound volumes, and sure enough the collection goes back to the 70s, probably when they had the funds to first subscribe.

Choosing a year will be hard, hell, just get the latest, see what they have to say.  Turns out the volume has about 3 months worth and sure enough December has the gold, all the televangelist scandals, the blonds, Iran-Contra, Reagan, and some obscure stuff. A couple times he has to stifle his youthful laughter to keep quiet.

At one point Sab scoots over and chuckles along, even leaning on his shoulder for a bit, which is nice. For a split second he almost puts an arm around her but that would still seem weird.

“Hey, when we get back to the house, I have something that might be good for some laughs.”

“Oh no.”

She giggles and gets up to find something else to read.

At one point he remembers his dad looking through a special issue of Life that had a bunch of Marilyn Monroe poses and manages to find it, surprisingly intact. Sabrina just grins.

This pattern continues for a bit then they decide to tour the other buildings, see the sculptures, then head for lunch. 

Sab is leaning vegetarian these days and just wants some fried mushrooms, and Nick has a couple with his fish sandwich.

“Ever tried sushi?”

Of course he hadn’t, closest he’d been was shrimp cocktail. 

This girl can be a chatterbox when she wants to, but it works, she keeps things from lagging and never seems to get bored with life.

They walk around some more and he offers to treat at the dairy stand on the way back to town, so they do that and settle at a picnic table beneath an umbrella.

“What would you be doing if it weren’t for me?”

“Probably lying around listening to tapes or messing around on the bench, but it’s cooled down so I can ride the bike.”

“The bench?”

“Dad built me a workbench, for soldering and stuff, one time I built a phone touch tone decoder, kinda got me into trouble.”

She laughs impishly, looks away for a second, then offers, “There’s worse ways to get into trouble, of course.”

“How about a phone recorder from the law office?”

This makes her cough.

“SWANSON!”

“Well Deke gave it to me and I put it into use, what’s a boy to do?”

“Wait…so…”

As they clean  up and head to her house he starts relating the saga from just over a year ago when he had that inkling to dig in and push back a bit to those who challenged his deeply held but barely understood convictions.

Before they get in the car she hugs him, and holds it longer than he expected, “Can friends do this sometimes?”

“It doesn’t exactly hurt.” Nick consciously realizes that she doesn’t have a chest hardly at all, not that she needs one, just skeeter bites poking at him.

“What does this feel like?”

“Well…you’re pretty lean.”

She shakes her head. “This is just so relaxing.”

“Yeah that too.”

She sighs, squeezes tighter before releasing, “Let’s go.”

Back at her house he looks around at the detail of the living room, nothing seems store-bought but it all came from somewhere, an exotic culture, or, actually, a mix of cultures, just like her name, so much to take in and he’s not sure he should ask about it.

She returns from the hallway holding a manila envelope, “Alright, get a load of this.”

They take seats on the couch and she produces a magazine, and as he takes it in there’s a 70’s looking babe on the front, nude but covering certain bits.

Nick can only grunt out, “No way.”

She knows her way around this thing, and every scene she lands on is richer than the last. Naturally Nick has to balance a bunch of things with the amusement, it’s weird to be kinda turned on next to a female but not by said female.

He finally expresses, “All the body hair…that’s supposed to be attractive?”

Sabrina explodes with laughter, gathers herself, then, “OH wait, wait.”

The topper is an encounter with a male on top, with so much hair on his ass, it’s like a combover.

This time Nick about falls onto the floor, “God how does he take a shit?”

Sab throws her head back and kicks and they laugh it out, in gales and heaves, for several minutes.

While fighting tears she slips the tawdry treat back into the envelope.

“Somehow I suspect your brother gave you that?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, he took a class on sexuality in undergrad and found this gem at a, like a comic book shop, you know.”

“Yeah I get the idea, wow.”

She draws a deep breath to catch up, “Nick I’m so glad we can tear into shit like this, anyway, ready for Breakfast Club?”

“Oh yeah, can I hit the head first?”

“Yeah it’s across from the rumpus room, with the bass. Hey do you play guitar?”

“I can strum a few things.”

She beams “I have an acoustic, we should jam later!”

While in the bathroom he realizes he needs to doze off during the movie, this chick is gonna wear him out but he doesn’t want to miss any of it, way too inspiring.

After washing up he opens the door and she’s heading to what must be her room, and without thinking he grabs her face and plants a peck on her lips, then keeps walking and plops onto the couch. Anticipating her move he leans back and leaves room for her to lean, takes off his shoes and shuts his eyes, might even try to doze off.

But right away she flutters by, sets up the tape then, yes, sits down and leans on him like the other day, then starts the tape. Nick looks up to see the enduring FBI WARNING message just as she grabs the back of his head and plants one on him, beside the mouth, then mutters, 

“Smartass.”

Sabrina

Tuesday July 13, 1988

Nick rides toward one of the nicer subdivisions on the edge of town in a flurry of warm breeze along with, well, something outside the numbness and disconnect he’d come to call home the past few months.

Sabrina had offered to pick him up but he didn’t want to trouble her, since they’d agreed to meet up in the morning to beat the heat. Her folks both work so it would just be them.

Last night Nick had felt something, and it felt like too little too late. He had gotten one of the library finds dubbed before the TV came on and would cause noise on the tape, so he grabbed a walkman and found some existing stock to review. 

First was some of from about third grade with Tim and some neighbor kid screwing around in Tim’s room and at some points were pretty lucky Irene wasn’t in earshot. He gets about two-thirds through the side then gives up after of it seemed pretty juvenile and ignorant. Life.

He sees some familiar faces driving around and one even throws a disapproving gooseneck, fuck ‘em. Nick doesn’t really care for driving unless there’s a purpose. From a bicycle the world still seems big and impressive, why be in a hurry to conquer it?

So after stashing the screwball tape for some reason he grabbed a dub of someone’s Krokus release from two summers ago, the one with the cover of School’s Out, which he had gotten to compare with the original (a library find of course) and had to give Krokus credit for a faithful rendering, even down to Marc Storace dong a decent growl like Alice.

But the first track, Now, caught him off guard. Back then it just seemed like keyboard-laden attempt to fit in to the times and get hits. Then last night, the desperate, passionate dead-of-night plea to a would be companion seemed to land too close to a place he’d never thought to still exist.

Actually…Nick can’t even say for sure he’d actually been there, as in, that emotional realm where this oft ignored and mostly forgotten ditty tries to take things. Through all those moments with DJ, which at this point seem if only imagined, lots of laughs, a stolen peck here and there, hell, he never really knew what she really wanted, but then, she wasn’t terribly picky either. That grin was just glad to see him for some reason.

Still, somewhere in the chorus it was tempting to believe she, yes, even Danni Jeanne Eversole, might have been open to those kinds of feelings, somewhere in the aether of space and time.

But for the moment, he needed to arrive at some conclusion before reaching his destination, and so the best he has, she’s someone he can believe in….and for that matter, kinda needs to believe in. And so, that brings it all squarely back to purpose.

At this point he also believes in his sense of direction, the streets are just as they were on the phone-book map and he doesn’t even need to peek at the address he’d stuffed somewhere in his jorts. This is the kind of neighborhood where you have no reservations about leaving your bike out front. For some reason he feels like he has to find the front door, lots of nice plants, some hanging, some in the ground (and obviously watered religiously these days), and so the front bay window is mostly hidden. 

With a bit of trepidation Nick reaches to knock on the door when he hears it unlock and it opens. 

“It’s about time, Swanson,” she grins and steps out of the way to let him in. 

Instinctively, or nervously, Nick feels the need to remove his kicks before leaving the small tiled landing.

“Well aren’t you trained?” 

“This looks like nice carpet.”

“Nick, relax.”

“I’ll try.” He finishes his shoes to look up at her smile as a mature yorkie pops up to pay respects.

“Who we got here?” At lest he knows to offer his knuckles as a greeting.

“This would be Cato.”

“Better than Cujo. So like in the Pink Panther movies?”

She raises her eyebrows, clearly impressed, and in that crisp, businesslike tone of hers, “Very good, young jedi, you’re coming along well.”

“We watched those on Sunday nights.”

“Never missed ‘em.”

They lock eyes briefly, then he breaks, “Like your haircut,” although right away he cringes that it didn’t come out right. But it does suit her well, went from a middle part down to her neck to an elegant high-and-tight, shaved all around but with a perm on top that some girls do, just right, not that she’s terribly girly. Actually she’s always been somewhat of a tomboy, winsome, capable, until this past years he’d only known her for receiving awards and other recognitions in assemblies. So what’s he doing here?

Her smile subtly widens, “Thanks, figured this would help till the heat breaks. OH, you’ll like this, c’mon…” then leads him back into the hall, which feels weird, except it’s not a bedroom, well, it’s a spare room with a treadmill, a weight set, and a Squire bass guitar with a small amp.

Before he knows it she’s strapped in and has a finger on a boombox, and from it emerges a familiar sound, takes a second, and just as she starts to strum it all comes back, been a while since he’d heard any Maiden, and this was the live cut, Number Of The Beast. Even after all he’d been through in the area of music shunned by evangelicals and taking a stand, he tended to keep the more controversial material out of the house; it felt like a sensible penance for all the trouble he’d caused.

But he’s certainly glad there’s some Maiden in this house, damn, talk about following a hard act, pretty much note for note with the indefatigable Steve Harris. Sometime during the big finish she stops the tape and Nick can’t resist,

“Wow, how long you been doing that?”

“Well, it’s something besides the usual, you know?”

“Sure been a lot of usual lately.”

She pauses, for a tomboy she’s got lovely eyes and those freckles pop. “Yeah around here it’s a lot of art jazz and Dad’s a dead head all the way. But we’re gonna stop the usual today. You got enough energy to stroll a few blocks to the park?”

“Always.”

Not surprising that she’s dressed nearly the same as he is, but with pocket shorts and a loose t-shirt. As they walk along, Nick realizes he had subconsciously avoided checking her out before, it just didn’t seem to be that vibe and that’s very refreshing, to have things to talk about and not just jive and tension, or worse, attitudes.

She picks up, “Do both of your parents work?”

“Dad runs one of the labs at JAMBCORP, mom, well, she volunteers here and there and sometimes teaches piano.”

“Well that’s nice, yeah, you know my dad teaches at the twig and mom became a paralegal a few years ago.”

“Oh, at a law office?”

“Yeap -”

“The one with Hank Deacon?”

“YES! He’s the best, I’m thinking of law you know -”

“I met him at the pool yesterday, used to mow his lawn and he’s kinda my Obi Won”

Without warning she squeezes him, starts to emit a muted ‘eeeeeeee’ and tries to pick him up, then giggles. “Oh I suck, that was awkward.”

“No complaints here.”

She lets go and keeps walking, leave it to her to take the lead, looks the other way for the first ten steps through more still houses.

“Nick, does this feel…right?”

For once he gets the wise idea to stay quiet.

She looks over finally, blankly.

After a pause, “I wouldn’t be here if it hurt.”

She slowly smiles and looks ahead.

“I don’t think either of us date very much…”

He picks it up, “I haven’t really talked to anyone since last summer, before the blow up.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Nick I had the best time in our labs, I hope we can keep that going.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

She sighs. “You don’t have to. I never know if it’s a good idea to make a move, that usually goes wrong, I mean….okay, I might as well ask, you don’t carry a condom with you?”

Nick pauses, “Um, no.”

She takes a breath, “See? That proves my point, it’s not about that, or it doesn’t have to be, not all the time.”

“Relax, Staas.” They had gotten on last-name basis only after a couple labs. 

This gets a wry glare, “I know, I know, thanks, Nick.”

“I know what you mean, and I am in no hurry to do anything that requires a proph…prophyl…”

“A cock sock?”

They nearly double over laughing then press on after most of a recovery. Nick becomes increasingly aware of how they are both a tad lanky and more than a tad pallid, she must avoid sun as well, at least this summer.

And in that vein they happen upon a rather mature oak, like the ones near his elementary school, replete with shade despite the punishing dry heat of late, and again, without warning, she takes him to the ground with an improvised move and pins him down, on his side and curled up with her chin digging into his skull.

“This do anything for ya?” she taunts.

“Make…no…sudden…moves….” he grunts with his mouth against his own bare knee,, “...I….have you right…where I…want you.”

During that tirade he planned his move and tries his luck making a grab at the back of her knee, and alas, she’s more than a little ticklish, this gets him somewhat free but she yelps into his ear.

Not wasting a chance, Nick keeps squeezing any part of her knees or calves he can reach but has too much reverence to be overt, except when she tries to reposition and he licks her ear.

She draws up in a ball and covers her mouth, and he tries not to notice what he can see of her face flush.

“You OK?”

“I’ll live.”

After a pause, he takes a chance and sits behind her, and after a near equal pause, she leans back on him a bit.

She draws a breath, “I hate to ask, but what are we now?”

“What were we before?”

“Friends, I hope.”

“Has that changed?”

“I hope not.”

“Better not.”

“So you were busy first part of the summer?”

“Yeah, took a class out at campus, Dad was able to arrange it so it counts both for high school and college. I’ll kinda start college early this year.”

“Damn.”

“I know, I’m a geek.”

“A popular geek.” Right away he felt the twinge.

She leans up slightly and gives the universal expectant look.

“What? You’re a popular babe.”

This gets a smile and she studies him for a second before resuming her lean.

“You really meant that, Nick, thanks.”

“Of course I did.”

“You can probably tell that popularity, as far as what people think, doesn’t really mean shit to me.”

“Why should it?”

Silence.

Nick lets it go.

“Well, you know how my class is mostly partiers, sadly a lot of my favorites graduated with your brother.”

“But you’re always talking to someone whenever I see you.”

“Well, duh, I’m popular, remember?”

“I earned that one.”

She laughs. “Well I do like people…well, sometimes. To a point. I think you know what I mean.”

Nick sighs. “So you have a summer now?”

“Yeah, we’re headed to South Dakota at the end of the week.” She turns around, “can we hang out a little more before then?”

Nick gets a little flushed at her puppy eyes, “Well I see the dentist tomorrow.”

“Fun, yeah I gotta pack anyway, keep the wolves away you know.”

“Yeah, but Thursday i think Mom has another piano lesson so I’d love to get out.”

“Is the student that bad?”

“She’s just…churchy.”

“Ahh…got it….you probably figured we’re intellectual heathens. My brother is up at Northwestern applying for fellowships, chip off the ol’ block.”

“Deke went there. OH, Tim is in boot camp.”

“Wish him luck for me, we sat together in Algebra.”

“He obviously didn’t cheat off you.”

“Hey, different strokes.”

“He’s a different stroke alright.”

She just shakes her head, then readjusts her lean.

He realizes there’s a twinge of apprehension being near her like this.

She draws a deep breath and relaxes more deeply. “If you’re not careful I’ll doze off.”

“Be my guest.”

“Maybe I already did, I can never tell.”

“I rarely remember being asleep.”

She gently places a hand behind his neck and plays with his hair. “For the record, I like your hair shorter like this.”

“Seems everyone does.”

“Makes you look like a MAN.”, and attempting a Mr. T voice, “Hey boy, come over here,” then she explodes into laughter and sits up bury her face in her knees.”

“We did a lot of wise-assing in lab didn’t we?”

“Nick that was the best.”

“Helped me get through the year.”

“I’m glad, it was my favorite part of the week, not kidding.”

Nick lets that float.

“Gonna be hot again today, too bad.”

“I’d get us some ice cream but didn’t bring my wallet.”

“The one with the rubber in it?”

Nick sighs while she goes into another gale, then while recovering, 

“We have some ice cream at the house if you want.”

He thinks a second. “Better yet, I can ride home, come get you in the car and you can meet my Mom, maybe we can raid the fridge if you want some lunch?”

Still grasping her knees, she lights up and holds a gaze. 

Nick stands up, offers a hand, and off they go, as she takes his arm.

The Munici-pool

Monday July 12, 1988

“So this Sabrina - wait, is her mom a paralegal?”

Nick had joined Deke at the pool at about the time they had switched from laps-only, as it turns out, that’s probably what keeps Deke so spry as he pushes sixty. This is the first he’d been here this year, and not much before that. Pools reminded him too much of two rough goes of lessons at the Y, which, probably would have gone much better if not in a group setting.

“I think so. She was my lab partner, and, a year ahead of me, not expecting much.”

“I might just know her then, she’s quite a young lady, and she called your sorry butt?”

“Yeah but so do the annoying ones.”

Deke shakes his head and looks around, grinning, “Nicky is there any hope for you?”

“It’s just not a priority.”

“Well your grades are good, right?”

“Yeah pulled ‘em up some after last fall’s adventure.”

“Sounds like a fresh start.”

Nick pauses. “I’m trying to think of it that way. Besides, you’re not married.”

“Well, true, never had good luck in that department, which is why I always ask.”

“You and everyone else.” Nick really wanted to change the subject. “So you’re more retired now?”

“Yeah, gradually take on fewer cases, let the juniors get their feet wet - hey, no pun intended <laughs while kicking up a splash>...but yeah, trying to coach ‘em and work myself out of a job, well, it means a lot, you know this firm, to honor what Lew started since I’m the only original partner left.”

“I don’t think I could be a lawyer.”

This gets a dirty look. “WHAT? Sure ya could, just pay attention to details, like you do with those circuits and shit.”

“But you have to deal with people and their problems.”

“Nicky a problem is a problem, that’s life.”

“I like my wires, thank you very much.”

Deke grins and looks on, “You still thinking of the program out at campus, like your daddy’s line of work?”

“Yeah I’d like to be out there, hell I’d go now if they let me.”

“High school can get old, for a THINKER, that’s what you are my man, you THINK too damn much!”

“You think so?”

Deke explodes into laughter and shakes his head. “So what you been up to this summer then, besides hidin’ in the AC? Son you are PALE.”

“We went camping on the fourth, and Tim just went to basic.”

“Oh wow, Army?”

“Yeah, Dad was Navy but he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I can understand it, I was just glad to get through law school with the Navy, did I ever tell you about it?”

“Yeah a while back, over iced tea.”

“Ahh good, well, as the church folk say, the Lord works in mysterious ways, guess that’s true no matter your beliefs.”

Nick ponders a second, “Yeah seems like it.”

“Well, young, man, think I’ll put some work clothes on and check up on the young'uns at the office. You gonna get your head wet at least?”

“Yeah I think so, at least I won’t look like a creep sittin’ here.”

“Just try not to make any dates,” Deke laughs maniacally while rubbing Nick’s head.

“Yeah yeah, have fun Deke”

“Keep in touch dude, “ as he gathers up his towel and bag.

“See ya.”

Nick takes a deep breath and looks around, not very crowded, mostly little kids splashing around in their arm floaties. He slips into the water at the four-foot level, holds his nose and braves a head dunk as a way to redeem those lessons at the Y. Deke was right, this heat has kept him pretty alabaster white and the sun is just now rising over the trees. 

He’s hoping to stay out of the house for a while. Irene has been tutoring piano for a Geena Fawkes, who graduated the year ahead of Tim. She’s back from college for the summer and wanting to accompany worship and children’s programs. This kind of outlook, paired with her gentle nature and non-threatening good looks, makes for a very uncomfortable situation, and not for any reason Nick can put a finger on.

Nevertheless, it was good to vocalize the notion of starting over this year. To some degree that applies to this calendar year, but now with the upstairs to himself, hell, it may even be possible to feel more human. 

Floating around in this water helps, just the right temp, usually just bends his knees and starts a doggie paddle of sorts, too bad he doesn’t have something with buoyancy. Maybe one of the moms brought extra arm floaties.

After about, who knows, fifteen minutes, some loud junior high dipshits show up and spoil the scene, so he climbs out the nearest ladder, towels off, slips on his Nikes and t-shirt and heads to his bike. The combo lock is finicky as always but gets it loose from the rack and heads off as he came, with a towel draped across his neck. Before leaving the lot he spots, as luck would have it, a car full of four coeds from the upcoming senior class that will improve the scenery of the pool by a million percent, but...yeah.

It’s only a few blocks home and there’s no extra car in the drive, so he goes right in.

“Did you have a good talk with Henry?”

“Yeah, he busted my chops around.”

“Well good, it builds character. Oh, Gena asked about you, she says you could probably go out with her and some friends if you wanted.”

Nick just looks off to the side.

“I know, you would probably get bored. I just wish you could get out of the house more like that.”

“I’m probably going to the library before it gets hot.”

“Well that’s a start at least. Oh I just cut up some watermelon, Gena had some.”

Nick grimaces, hadn’t yet developed a taste for it.

“Well it’s there if you want some with lunch, plenty of dogs left from the weekend too.”

“That works.”  Research has shown that leftover semi-burnt weenies are a delicacy when nuked for 60 seconds on half power, if you start with it in an equally cold bun with a cold slice of cheese. Also makes for a great Zappa album that Nick has yet to check out from the liberry.

Nick changed out of his nearly-dry trunks and hit the bike again, enjoyed some late morning summer and was glad for the rack and tote he’d rigged up to haul LPs. He’s in luck. They had just gotten in Yes’ release from last year, Big Generator, and he even grabbed the well-worn Pink Floyd reboot. To complete the trifecta there’s a Robert Plant solo he hadn’t heard yet. Metal had lost it’s shine in recent months, especially after visiting the plant where a younger engineer near his dad’s office was playing some recent King Crimson at low volume. Sometimes, he realized, there’s things to be said about a level of sophistication.

Summer Thaw

Sunday July 11, 1988

It’s a bone dry ninety-three degrees and Nick thought the country breeze would provide sufficient cooling as he rides through the country. At this point it’s starting to feel like a trek for survival.

He headed out just a couple miles to the west of town then south, late afternoon, not a cloud in the sky, and stopping at someone’s house would be an admission of poor judgment. Some water should help, and there’s a gas station up ahead where this road meets the highway that has fountain drinks and hopefully some sense of mercy.

Tim had just shipped off after his big weekend at Hector’s, which makes things that much crazier. This drought is supposed to relent soon, at least there’s a chance, but probably not the heat. 

Maybe now they would get less of the hangup calls, assuming they are trying for his brother, always eager to answer. Nick had recently started avoiding the phone as much as possible. Jenna Wern had a habit of ringading-dinging at the worst possible moments after he had paid her a passing complement at a lunch table toward the end of the year, a freshman who claims she’s going to be married before graduating high school. One time he started up a Saxon tape on his headphones and held it to the phone for a few seconds and she suddenly had to yield the phone to a sibling or such. Works every time.

Although sometimes he would hear from Sabrina, his chemistry table partner this past year and a refreshing contrast to most girls since she just wanted to catch up and laugh a while. Times like those, albeit rare, made it kinda nice that they hadn’t gotten an unlisted number.

This summer had been a lot like five summers ago, his room was generally not habitable till an hour after sundown, except this had been a dry heat for which air conditioning helps little, but the tradeoff was a cool crossbreeze upstairs most nights. Worst case he had to couch surf or camp out in the den.

Once in a while a lonely, latent cottonwood bloom floats by without a care in the world. Nick wishes it could tell a story, then wishes it could carry him home.

The routine of being on his own for Sunday mornings has set in, he gets to sleep in and his grades have improved, stays out of trouble. His folks have settled into a new church and he goes to some of the dinners and events, everyone seems comfy with this arrangement.

The irony is how, well, pious he feels these days, staying focused on what seems important, not interfering with anyone, far as he knows, helping out at home, headed to some sort of college, probably what he’s always known at the bench, except hopefully for benevolent purposes, not that he has any regrets about what he’d revealed, just of what it put the family and others though. 

Almost out of sweat and with skin slightly tingling in the breeze, this purpose brings him to the Amoco along the state route he’d have to follow briefly to the edge of town. After leaning his bike just outside the doors, he barges into the A/C to a near-empty store and asks if they can spot him a cup of water.

“Oh help yourself, cups of water are free, get one as big as you want.”

“Thanks I sure need it, I’ll be sure to give you some business when I can.”

“Nothin’ to it, rest a while before you head back out.”

So he looks around a couple minutes then starts to feel chilled, then heads back out after chugging most of the water. He hates to toss the ice so he folds the cup best he can and tucks it in the back of his shorts, which feels surprisingly refreshing, then heads on.

This part of the trip seems downhill and downwind, nuthin to it, and once in town the sight of familiar trees actually makes things seem cooler.

Back at the ranch his folks are in their fabled poise but just reading, TV makes too much heat.

Ned speaks up first, “Another few minutes and we were gonna come looking.”

“I got some free ice water at Amoco.”

“Ahh, well how about taking rides early morning?”

“Yeah but what will I do in the afternoon?”

Ned just shakes his head.

Irene, “You can always call some girls.”

Nick moans clear up the stairwell.

She goes on, “Was it something I said?”

After a shower Nick flips on the oscillating fan he’d been assigned and tries some radio, nah, oh, finds a decent dub of Whitesnake from what seems like a lifetime ago, just last year, and succumbs to that a while in headphones.

He thinks of trying to ring Vance to see if he ever hits the city pool, even in the morning would be decent, who knows.

After chilling a while he nukes some nachos, a fine Sunday PM tradition and consumes them in the shady rear deck. The house on that side faces to the street perpendicular to his and he used to rake leaves for Mrs. Wellingham, who, in turn has a niece in her early 20s and not at all threatening, but then they tend to be pretty quiet, Irene has talked to them just a few times over the years.

Tonight calls for mindless reruns, at least there’s Tracy Ullman and Garry Shandling, and maybe another quick ride at some point.

After filling his mason-jar mug with cold water for the night stand he debates whether some release is in order, and it has been three days, which seems about right. Inspiration has been few and far between this entire year, let alone when February brought a touch of anxiety, understandably worse this year, after months of nuclear winter.

There was simply no one he really wanted to touch, or look at carnally, at least in the practical sense. When at the height of inspiration, like last year leading up to the September Apocalypse as he’d come to know it, having recovered from the phone tapping deal, there was purpose, this year, it’s something for which he didn’t know the word: malaise. It will be a full year past soon and he’s thinking that anniversary will help him move on.

But it seems the carnal notions, for Nick, are as far divorced from purpose as ever, now that the romance of first discovery have long passed.

Still, let’s take a taste of the well, just after the lights go out, must be a dozen gals float by, some his age, some older - he has to fight thinking of poor helpless Donna in her bath chair - but then some of the divorced ones they’ve met over the years, hmm…what if one of them needs help with a car stereo or…this part is never easy…one thing leads to another, but what’s the one thing at the beginning?

Eventually, when the moment draws near, out of the either, yeap, that night last year when he tried something, with that gal, now on the other side of the galaxy, although, the more this happens, the less embarrassing that moment seems.

In his last waking moments, after cleaning up, he thinks it might be nearing time to check in on Deke.