The Axe

10/2/1987

Well it sure has been a week, no thanks to you, I know you tried to reach me a couple of times and the least I can do is tell you what’s going on.

I started out the week getting questions about what you did at your church and had no answers. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT WAS LIKE? And yes I realize you tried to call but NO at this point I don’t want to know, and I think you know what’s coming next. Nick, were you even THINKING what this, whatever it was, would do in MY life, that I was so glad to share with you?

Maybe I should have seen a red flag when you did that thing with the tape machine. OH and I realize the stories get blown out of proportion, but from what I heard you conspired with the youth pastor to stage a fake rapture? WHY? And so now, I hate this so much, but Nick I go to a CHURCH SCHOOL and so things like that are a huge deal. I was so afraid of getting called to our head pastor’s office this week but it finally died down, except, well, there’s still this weird…I don’t know.

I am crying so hard right now and it’s taken me almost an hour to write this out. You realize I can’t talk to you for a while, this is so messed up. I really hope that some day things will be different, but there’s no way I can hang out with you at events or whatever, not that you really like those, but what else do we have?

Okay, I walked away for a while and am a little calmer now, I took a walk and might mow the lawn before dark. Nick this really hurts since, well, I hope you know how much I enjoy hanging out with you, and…OK, I’m going to start bawling.

Well I mowed the lawn and this is not getting any easier, so when you get this just know it’s for the best, for now anyway, just remember, I hope someday we can start over.

Take care, 

DJ

Fair '88

Saturday July 31, 1988

The week had been largely what he needed, a change of pace. He’d put in five days of internship at JAMBCORP with Ned, and would probably put in another week or two before school starts. While the hope was this could count toward some college credit, Ned’s old crony, the one he calls Goody, who now teaches out at the branch, said that would have to be set up in advance and last about as long as a term - however, Nick should keep a journal and may get to write it up as a paper for an IS credit or two.

And so Nick grabbed a fresh hard-bound journaling book at KMart, the same one they had to use in chemistry lab, and tried his best but only filled in 2.5 pages so far. Since the plant manufactures mostly board components for other companies there’s not much in terms of bench research, and the lab is mostly geared toward printed-circuit (PCB) layout, etching, and prep for mass production on the floor.

But it sure beats working at a grocery, at least for now. Nick is careful not to bring up the company name, which goes back to the initials of the founders, and would sound a lot cooler to his ears if it were more like an aerospace contractor like Martin-Merietta. A few years ago there was an open house on Sunday afternoon and leave it to Tim, as they were halfway there, to ask if it ever got called “Damn Corp,” after which Ned nearly turned the car around.

But there was plenty of gophering and organizing to do, he got a paper name tag from the security office and a flush-inducing complement from the leggy, uptown plant receptionist. “At’s muh boy,” Ned teased as they headed up the stairs on Monday.

Other than that he treated Marci to the dairy stand on Wednesday night and she opened up, admitting she’d been jealous last year but now so thankful someone else got filled up with their beloved Sabrina. It was surreal being out with such a popular gal, even more well connected than Sab, but he quickly figured out she’s a compulsive doer, kinda like himself except with organizing.

She even admitted to being the one to organizing games at parties, at least in years past, and since we’re at the age where most of the parties are crazy and usually not sanctioned, she just buries herself in this and that, to the point of taking on yearbook. 

“Been meaning to ask, do you know your way around a camera, one of the good ones, with the big lens?”

“An SLR? I have one, it’s old though.”

That was enough to get him hired as a yearbook photographer, if he wanted it, and she really wanted him around, so he’ll think about it. 

“Surprised you didn’t take photography class,” she pressed.

“Couldn’t fit it in.”

“Touche, same here.”

To think of all the times he’d seen her at the library and tried to stay out of view.

Then on Friday he came home and was advised to listen to a message on the machine.

“This is for Nick…it’s Deejay…”

His blood ran cold.

“...hey if you want, I’m bringing a group to the fair tomorrow, we’ll get there around 11. It will be nice to see you, it’s been too long. If anything changes I’ll try to call again…OK, bye.”

Nick had to take a deep breath and showered early before supper.

But then, at 10:42 am he’s there by the gate and didn’t have to wait long before he spots her entourage, including Wade and Beth from that expo trip, little blond Sammy, and another girl closer to their age.

He approaches the group and tries to fall in at the back but she stares him down, “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She’s in a ball cap and ponytail, not surprising, bronzed form mowing, naturally with some powder blue accents here and there to bring out the eyes.

“A straggler.”

“More like a stranger.”

Right then Sam takes up a boxing stance and he pats her head, not knowing what else to do. She makes a face and a nasal noise and goes back to talking with Beth.

They get tickets, hands stamped, and are in like flynn.

Surprisingly, or maybe right on cue, Deej hangs back and they are walking in step as the others slowly press on.

Neither of them seem to know what to say, so he looks over at her, she glances over, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She smiles and draws a breath, “Sam asked if we’re going to fight.”

“Maybe we should.”

“WHAT?”

“We’d understand each other better.”

She pulls him aside near a tree. “OK, you actually just made sense, you’re getting better, mister.”

“Seems I’ve gotten better at being better lately.”

She covers her mouth and laughs. At least the ice is broken.

“So are we more mature now?”

“I really don’t care, just glad to see you.”

“Yeah, I was, well, I had a dream recently, you were dressed to kill.”

This earns that expectant look with one hand on a hip, damn.

Nick sighs, “I was walking around here and you passed by, all made up, decked out, neon lights, staring me down…sheeit.”

Deej leans on the tree to laugh and gets as close as she can, and he gives in and they do a mutual peck.

Nick leads a walk since he has no idea where he wants this to go, except there are way too many walls to let it go too far.

“Did you tell them to walk on?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Yeah.”

She seems pensive.

“So, last fall, that got way out of hand, we just tried to make a statement and it blew up the world.”

She takes his arm, “Is this okay?”

“Of course.”

She sighs. “Exactly…what…got out of hand?”

“Our youth leader, Kevin, wanted to wake up the body.”

“Sounds like you idiots cooked the body.”

“Pretty much. It was hard for several months, then Mom and Dad found a new church and I just have alone time, it works.”

“Wow. Do you still talk to Vance?”

“Not as much, he’s been doing sports, trying to catch a game or two this year.”

She lets this float.

Nick draws a breath. “So you’re doing karate?” They had wondered past untold booths and barkers and probably several trying to get him to win her a bear, they may as well be the only two souls in the universe.

“Yeah, well, actually it’s a mix of martial arts, you know, for focus and self defense.”

“Deej I’m sorry, for everything.”

She squeezes his arm. “I know, it’s not that, just, anyway, we’re here now.” She looks over and smiles.

“Should we find your gang?”

“They’ll turn up somewhere, I think Angie knows some folks in one of the stinky barns.”

“I try to avoid those”

Deej lightens up further, “Oh your gal in the overalls?”

Nick doesn’t bite.“Wanna hit the booths? I always see if they have belt buckles.”

She snickers, “Swanson, you never change.”

“I change once a week whether I need it or not.”

Deej shakes her head as they head to the building with crafts and vendors.

To Nick this feels good, but in a fresh way, he’s been reset lately and she’s been doing some resetting on her own.

She says, “So will you talk to Geena much?”

“I doubt it, she went back to her life.”

He doesn’t get another answer so he looks over to a wry gaze.

“What?”

“So what’s your life these days?”

“Interning with Dad.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?”

“Nothing to write home about, although I do keep a journal in case it helps in college.”

“Good thinking young man. So no other girls?”

Nick returns the wry gaze, trying to keep it general, “Not really.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Was trying to lay low this summer and Geena started taking lessons, we went out some.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Alright wise ass, howbout you.”

“Moi?”

Nick just looks at her.

“Swanson I don’t have your luck, let’s put it that way. I got enough to deal with.”

‘How are your folks?”

“About the same. They made Daddy plant manager if you can believe.”

“I can.”

“Nick, in case you’re wondering, I’m not banned from seeing you, but yes I tend to be discrete. As long as we meet up in public or with a group like this.”

“That makes sense. I wouldn't want to disappoint your parents, they’re good folks.”

Her wry grin comes back, “If I didn’t know better…hmm, anyway, yeah I just want to do school and karate, sometimes hang out like this.”

“Even with types like me who don’t hang out a lot?”

After no response on beat he looks over to find her holding her mouth, flushed and hiding one hell of a giggle.

“Et tu, Eversole?”

She swats at him.

“Mmm, you made me think of what Geena said, well, actually, admitted after I pressed…she’s right, by the way.”

“Whatever. You still look good in shorts by the way.”

“Thanks Nick.”

The tobacco smoke always catches him off guard, mixed with cotton candy, every kind of fried cuisine, and every now and then he has to remind himself not to leer at a nice set of tan pins, he’s with a lady after all. More lady than ever, maybe this is what the dream anticipated…but after having been with another lady, well, a somewhat borrowed lady, but the lady at his side doesn’t hold that against him. Shouldn’t there be, what, competition? Is this a trick?

They hit the crafts building first and take in every sort of quilting, painting, canning, and it seems like every year they add a new category.

Just then they meet the balance of the gang coming out of the vendor building, talk for a few minutes and end up with Sam who walks next to Nick. Since they’re pretty much caught up this works out and it’s nice to have a cute junior gal pal, she doesn’t say much, just sticks around as they pass by leather goods, t-shirts, school boosters, and finally the belt buckles.

Deej digs her chin into his shoulder just to make him squirm. “You never struck me as the belt buckle type there skinny breeches, so what’s the deal?”

Nick does everything he can to avoid brushing her off. “Brat. Years ago they had an MG buckle, you know the little British cars with the hexagon logo?”

She grabs his ribs and he jumps, “Yeah right, we’re in the boonies, I know Fords and Chevys.”

Finally he zeroes in, “Well, they - OH cool, right there.”

“Hmmm.” 

Chicks just don’t get it.

At some point she did ask if he knew the girl who didn’t make it back from a trip, he said, tactfully,

“We talked some.”

Then Sam got her attention and that was it, close call, he felt that unsettling twinge almost pounce again.

Back out toward the midway some ride blasts out Def Lep’s summer juggernaut Pour Some Sugar On Me, with its confounding lyrics that he didn’t like to deal with in a public setting.  

Deej snaps him out of his thoughts, “Sam wants to ride rides, wanna watch?”

“Yeah, are you guys getting lunch soon?”

“That’s the idea, Sport, better ride first then after, rriiiggghht?”

Nick joins a knowing nod and they go on exchanging exaggerated winks. 

For a while he plays third wheel and checks out how his classmates look after a couple months, a few new baby bumps, nods and waves here and there. At one point Geena’s parents float by but leaves it to them to see him, which they don’t.

For lunch they hit the Eastern Inn, sponsored by Sam’s school and he gets a hot dog and fried mushrooms, to which Deej jabs, 

“They say you are what you eat.”

“A fun guy?”

She gives him a look to kill, mixed with a grin that admits that was well played.

After lunch Nick confesses he’s had enough fair, and shortly thereafter she sneaks in a very tight but quick squeeze, then,

“You know I’m here if you need to talk about anything.”

“Same here, babe.”

This earns a raised eyebrow, “Babe, huh?”

“It slipped.”

After a pause with a blazing gaze, “Get outta here before anything else slips.”’

“Yes, dear..”

He winks at the onlooking Sam, pinches her cheek, then heads to the gate without looking back.

Grant Park

Sunday July 25, 1988

“Well I know many of you will remember the time she challenged Marty Muskgrove to arm wrestling - “

From the crowd there’s a howl and a very tall, dark islander type stands up clapping.

“Mister Martin! You made it! Get on up here!”

Marci is the first to relate a fun memory after Steve and Tish, who followed the mayor, who followed Steve’s friend who had offered a very general blessing on those who were gracious enough to join us this lovely afternoon.

And it really was, 81 degrees and partial clouds. Nick had gotten there on his bike a little before noon and the rented tent was set up, with little functional purpose beyond a focal point, and Nick’s first duty was to run an extension cord to the edge of the park and mate it with a cord that someone had plugged into their house. At this point it seems Marci is a miracle worker.

They had a basic picnic spread for the core crew and most ate as they set up the stand of pictures and the sealed urn. Nick helped with the portable PA, not surprisingly marked as property of JHS.

His parents were out in the crowd along with seemingly half the town, at least the portion involved with the upper-class student body. Tim had talked to Irene last night and said he’d always thought Sabrina was “very cool and very smart,” and added, “this really bites,” which was a safe-house word they had come to know Irene didn’t mind so much.

Many stood around that didn’t bring chairs and it’s truly a celebratory event.

Marci continues,

“I’ll try to be brief, but one day some of the varsity football team joined us lowly middle schoolers at lunch, and this beefcake - I mean,”

Marci has to pause as the crowd roars and the legendary six-foot-seven oak tree of a defensive end strikes some poses before slipping an arm around her shoulders as he towers above in stark contrast to her compact, pallid frame.

“Yeah, all of this sat across from us, and somewhere along the line Miss Sabrina says she can beat him at arm wrestling if she puts her mind to it.”

“That’s my GIRL” Marty chimes in, to more cheers.

“We are mostly done eating and so the monitors organize as many spectators as possible. Marty here naturally just lets her try everything she can think of, feet on the table, climbing on his shoulders, and eventually he stands up and she’s hanging from his side trying in vain to move his arm until the bell rings!”

Marty stands there seemingly reenacting the same stiffarm stance as the crowd loses its mind.

“Alright, I think your laughter and cheers say it all this afternoon, thanks for being here Marty, and to all of you as well.”

This gets her a hug and smooch from the big dude before he re-joins the crowd.

Nick is in a dilemma at this moment, since they all insisted that he follow Marci before they invite folks from the crowd to relate a memory. 

On the one hand, there’s no pressure since there’s a good vibe already, but on the other hand, there’s no way anyone could follow that. But this is not performance, it’s all for Sab, so here goes. 

Nick proceeds up with the notes he had written out then keeps them palmed. The crowd has calmed down, and he clears his throat into the mic, even after testing it earlier, subconsciously as a way to get a feel for the volume.

“I was lucky to have Sab as my chem lab partner this past year, and we got to spend some time together, um, before the trip.”

Heaviness sets in just for a second, then this comes out of his mouth.

“We spent a couple days together just goofing around, one of those days started with her playing Iron Maiden on her bass, then ended up with me playing the bass while she played Smoke On The Water on her trombone - lying on her back, playing with one foot.” Instinctively he takes a long breath, then, “Thank you.”

Nick walks off to some genuine laughter but even louder applause as he takes his seat, feeling warm in the ears. Marci squeezes his hand, 

“That was really nice.”

Deke takes his turn and relates one of the handful of times Sabrina would bring up a hypothetical trial situation and try to argue a win where there was none.

“I said Sabrina, my dear, there’s no way a sane judge would allow that.”

“What if I argue it with a plate of fresh cookies?” Deke throws his hands up and shakes his head as the crowd once again cheers our gal.

“Thank you all so much.”

And so Marci takes over as emcee for a season of sharing as folks slowly line up. Surprisingly only once does she have to gently prod someone to wrap it up after interspersing reminders here and there.

But at least, the fallen guest of honor, it feels like she’s really among them at least, at last, laughing along.

At some point Nick remembers the dream he had just before awakening. 

The fair starts this coming Saturday and he dreamt of walking around, not sure with whom, when Danni passes by, and not a sight for the timid. She’s fully decked out, way beyond the minimal effects that work their wiles, this was full-on assault, burgundy stockings, long skirt, all cylinders firing but the makeup doesn’t cover any freckles, it makes ‘em pop. And to top it all off, well, that look, that expectant look, without a word, that says, your move.

Nick has to fight at some points to stay in the moment, as he definitely doesn’t want to go to the fair now.

Tomorrow

Saturday July 24, 1988

“Fool you got about ten minutes to shit, shower and shave, get movin’.”

Nick was still drifting into consciousness when Deke called, he was headed over to Stass’ and Nick was going one way or another.

“Is this…do I dress up?”

Deke sighs. “Oh good LORD, do I have to come in and dress your skinny ass? Put on a decent shirt.”

“Got it. OK see you in a bit.”

Nick hangs up and scurries downstairs to scrounge some breakfast and to his amazement there were fresh bagels, so that can be toasted while he tracks down this clean shirt. He decides on some pocket shorts found at a garage sale and a nice button-up short sleeve that he leaves untucked.

Back downstairs he smears on some Philly and explains all this to his parents between chews, that the memorial service might be tomorrow afternoon at Grant Park, but he’d find out more.

As soon as the teeth are brushed our hero steps out front just as Deke’s ‘84 Prelude pulls into the gravel off-street space and he jumps in.

“Next time you get FIVE minutes, dig?”

“Yeah yeah.”

Deke is a Jedi Master at keeping the mood light in these situations.

They arrive at the now familiar house where there’s a few cars parked but a sign in the yard, surrounded by the bouquets left on the porch.

THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS

MEMORIAL 2PM SUNDAY GRANT PARK

BRING YOUR OWN CHAIR

AND STORY TO SHARE

PLEASE RESPECT OUR SPACE

BUT HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE

Nick doesn’t ask but assumes they’re expected, and was right. They’re greeted by Sabrina’s mom Tish and get a hug, then the same from Steve, and in the living room Nick trades smiles with Marci, and seated at the other end of the couch is the Honorable Mayor Cal Catlett, who stands up and introduces himself to Nick, since he would obviously know Deke. That would explain the Lincoln out there.

It’s now all coming together, how Marci must have gotten the gears turning on a big outdoor memorial and blessing to gather in the park on short notice, must be that space that usually has an impromptu softball or football game and the mostly underaged participants try to conceal their beer supply.

There’s a couple other folks from Sab’s class that he doesn’t know very well, except for student council type of stuff.

Tish gently grabs his arm, ”Nick, there’s some things she wanted you to have”, then leads him back into the hallway, as memories flood back in a flash, now seeming like ages ago yet sealed forever in time’s amber.

Back in that room with the treadmill and the bass she hands him the manila envelope. Nick suddenly felt several different temperatures throughout his body, but overall, with this family there’s no need for alarm.

“Now I didn’t look inside but I slipped in a letter she had written you on the way there.”

Nick draws a breath, “Wow.”

Tish smiles, that smile she passed on to her daughter, “That says it all, doesn’t it?”

Nick gets some wits back, “Well, thanks.”

She pauses a second, then pecks his cheek, “I know you two would have had a lot of fun times together.”

“We always did.”

Tish, motions over to the table where she’d grabbed the envelope, and on it is a metal canister. 

“The urn is sealed, if you’d like to touch.”

He looks over wide eyed, then back to her, and she nods. He proceeds over and runs his fingers along the edge and can only hear her playing the bass in the corner to his right.

“Take your time, Nick.”

Tish has stepped out and he feels like an intruder, despite the invitation. The bottom line: she’s not here anymore, at least not for him, so he shuts out the light and heads back to the living room. Appropriately, Sab’s door is still closed.

Nick finds Deke and asks if he can put the envelope in the car, Deke tosses him keys so he posits it right on the passenger seat. Given the contents he doesn’t want to take chances, so he locks it back up.

Once again back in the living room they are going over details, there wold be a portable PA system and they would encourage folks to share ONE story, hopefully a funny one, and hopefully it will be a picnic atmosphere. There’s really no officiator although they hope one of Steve’s college friends would make it, now a Unitarian minister, which most closely fits their beliefs. Mr. Catlett says he’ll mostly be on hand as an official presence since he didn’t know Sab personally but wanted to give his heartfelt endorsement to the gathering.

Nick feels a bit out of place with all these players, then at one point Marci beams at him, “Nick I hope you join us sharing a story, you’d have to have one.”

His cold sweat returns, for a moment, then he remembers the foot-trombone, “Yeah, I got one.”

The thought of speaking to that large of a group is daunting, to say the least, but, yeah, for Sab.

Marci lights up, “Will you sit up front with us? We’ll have a few chairs.”

“Sure.”

“Good, and if you can get there around noon to help set up, I think we’ll have sandwiches, “

“Okay.”

Tish announces the coffee is ready and Nick gets in on that, and from there he just drops back and takes it in. He’ll definitely need to write something out and try to draw from class presentations over the years.

Steve and Tish look relieved, although not well rested, which makes a bit of sense, being back with familiar faces after going through all this. For a brief second he wonders if they’ll stay together, then quickly tries to forget thinking it.

After a few minutes Marci pulls him aside, and they end up in a side-hug. “Nick I’m glad you are part of things, she was really hoping to spend time with you, I think you know that.”

“Yeah I really looked forward to more…well, the crazy…”

“Weren’t we all. Hey, can we meet up and talk sometime, maybe next week, once things settle down?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” she squeezes his arm, taps his elbow, and heads back toward the john, Or, for her, the jane?

He had been hoping to break the ice with her at some point, just not under these circumstances, of course. Marci Dell is one of those who would fall into the background if she wasn’t always, well, in the grinding gears, yes, student council stuff and who knows what else. She’s sturdily built with thick hips and thighs, you might say, wholly un-athletic, strong speaking voice and quite articulate. In fact, she feels like an aunt, yeah, a 38-year old unmarried aunt, but with a clear, fair complexion, equally clear blue eyes and thin blond hair, usually in a denim skirt and girly sneakers.

Nick gets the sense they will share some times and he’s just fine with that, as they form the bread on this oh-so-untimely Sabrina sandwich. 

After Nick puts his mug in the sink, Deke motions him over and excuses them both to Tish,

“We’ll see you tomorrow, hon, get settled in and call if you need ANYTHING, got it?”

More hugs, then as they walk to the car, “Nick I’d take you to lunch but gotta take care of some things.”

“Thanks but too early, I gotta write my story.”

“Oh come on, you got this.”

“I know, just….”

“Yeah you’re a green pup, I know, give your folks my best and I’ll owe you a lunch, hear?”

Back at the homestead Nick just wants to finish sleeping in then start from there, but at least he can start sorting things out.

The house and surrounds are solemnly quiet and his window is still open as it’s a decent morning, so he drifts in and out.

Geena will have dinner with her folks tonight before she heads out in her well-maintained 82-and-a-half Datsun, although she plays off any attempt at substantiating that half-year. The times with her had almost been an out–of-body experience, but then, they both knew it was an experiment of sorts; they set parameters and went by them, got to explore the facts of life in a safe space. But, he wasn’t invested, not much at stake, and that’s what made it work. Somehow she’s savvy enough to know that, which to Nick is pure magic. 

Oh, Sabrina. He’s certainly in a suspended state, a…a purgatory?  Tomorrow…tomorrow.

He gets up, changes into a tee shirt, then fishes out some notebook paper to get it scratched out, then smells some leftovers heating up and goes down to see what that’s about.

“You got a letter, I think from Danni, oooohhh,” Irene teases.

Oh man. There it lies, postmarked yesterday. He runs it upstairs to somehow fit in to the rest of the day.

They all eat at the table and get Nick to recount the morning’s gathering, and both his folks plan to attend. Before Nick heads upstairs, Ned pipes up,

“Not sure when the best time to bring this up, but we’ve got a short internship open, doesn’t pay but good experience - in fact if we set it up right it might count toward college.”

Nick raises both eyebrows. “What about Casper’s?”

“Are they goin’ anywhere?”

So this sounds like a bright spot on the horizon, at least.

Back upstairs, Nick is determined to get a draft down before opening the Deej letter.

And so, he writes, in pencil, the paragraph, but then, no, before that should be a…a preface, yeah, just a sentence.

So he starts over on a fresh sheet, the first sentence, then the paragraph, then glances up at the envelope. Fresh ink in that hand he’d know the world over. He can’t resist picking it up for a sniff, and barely discerns something familiar, but doesn’t trigger any memories, maybe just those of the storied Old Maine Trotters box in the closet that houses the sacred archive.

But he resumes the copying and pretty soon has the entire piece written out in his best penmanship, which is just a hair above ransom note quality. Then, it’s time to carefully cut open the envelope’s top with a slightly-rusted and wholly classic Imperial yellow pocket knife on permanent loan from the garage. Once that’s done he heads downstairs, hugs the rail since he’s still in his glasses, hands his mom the final manuscript to review and heads to the front porch with Danni’s letter.

He absorbs it very slowly, as if every character contains a vital clue, then after the fourth read-through it’s just nice to get an eyeful of her trademark abuse again. The timing of this somehow makes sense, and now he’s imagining her in a kimono instead of a ball cap; she’s evolving. They both are. 

The funny thing is, in simple absentia she’s become quite pneumatic, an all-too familiar theme, but at least, well…yeah.

And as always, god, larger than life itself. He doesn’t need to dig pictures out of the Trotters box. Especially engraved in his mind’s eye is her freshman school photo, which he has in a 3x5, yes, she gave him one of the larger prints and he still managed to fuck up the deal, but still, she’s bright as the sun, so many nuances, connecting her light freckles forms countless constellations, so much sophistication in such a fun package. She enters a room and the room is hers, plain and simple.

There’s the one time he took the SLR camera, a Mamiya-Sekor that Paps had given him that year, took it to one of her games and got some of her on the mound, at a standard-width angle, but got her to pose afterward, and he captured, well, it’s that expectant look mixed with some kind of satisfaction. Maybe someday he’ll ask what that’s about, but for now, well, now is now.

And in hindsight, that chicken shit he pulled with Deej at that party, well, damn, that actually worked out. It was a joke, the joke was on him, yet somehow it brought them closer. Maybe it was the raw, reckless abandon mixed with her ability to contain him.

But at the moment, he’s not sure what to say to her, she’s gotten her life together and Nick has a feeling his is about to start taking a new shape finally. Just a few weeks ago he would have completely shut down at the sight or mention of Marci Dell, but now, she’s become a spring of hope.

But, if nothing else, Deej gets a birthday card in a couple months…probably a simple one and signed just his name. Yeah.

He steps back into the house and Irene hands back his draft, “Looks great sweetie, just read it out loud some and it’ll be great, made me chuckle. OH was that from Danni?”

“Yeah, and she mentioned you ran into her at Kmart.”

Irene makes a surprise face, yet free of denial, “How is she doing?”

“Seems fine, Geena called her the other day so she had to respond I guess.”

“Well good, hope you can talk to her sometime, she’s a sweet girl.”

Nick just sighs.

“You’ve had quite a summer haven’t you?”

“It’s been three summers so far.”

Irene grabs his hand and puts a kiss on it. 

Nick realizes it’s not terribly hot outside, “Think I’ll ride some in town.”

“Well be careful and take water this time.”

“I will.”

Once in motion he thinks of what he might send Deej besides a card but nothing seems right. She seemed to like the mix tape two years ago, but there’s absolutely no context for that now. Actually, a few weeks after the first tape he presented her a compilation of stuff from homemade tapes, playing radio, stupid shit with Tim and assorted neighbor kids, which she returned to him the next time they met up, as he may have included a few seconds of himself taking a leak as a hidden track at the end of Side 1.

“Umm, you can have this back.”

Nick could never bring himself to mention that apocryphal tape ever again, although tonight would be a good time to dig that one out, it’s the closest thing in existence to a ‘greatest hits’ trove of preadolescent shenanigans, such as they are.

At the edge of the river he actually gets the notion to head out to the Eversoles’, but the sky looks gray and he better think again. Hopefully tomorrow afternoon is just slightly overcast in the park, that would be just right, or, as right as it can be given the circumstances.

But she did seem to almost dare him to head out that way. Would be really cool to see her at the karate studio, it’s out on the strip, but do they allow spectators? And when’s her class? He’d surely get his ass thrown three ways from Jordan for his trouble.

On the way back home in late afternoon that moment comes to mind from this past spring, dialing around on shortwave he comes across WRNO playing Great White’s Save Your Love, and that’s enough thinking, for now.

Nick pops in the goofy tape for a while and probably dozes off a couple times before some leftovers for supper. Geena is having a last hurrah with her folks in a world he would never feel a part of. 

With a full belly he sits outside for a bit, watches some TV with his folks for a few minutes, then heads upstairs to make himself read the letter from Sab, for some reason, while seated at the workbench, which begs the question why he doesn’t dig into a project book to see if anything starts a spark to solder up.

He flips on the shortwave but WRNO has given up that frequency, then he finds some exotic music drifting in and out from somewhere and lets that play.

OK, no more procrastination. Nick reaches for the manila envelope and carefully finds two sheets of torn-out spiral notebook paper along with the expected pristine vintage smut they had roared over just a handful of helluva-days ago. Looks like he’ll have to make an exception to the rule about such things in the house; hopefully the letter will mention it at least and provide some context, you know, in case it’s ever found.

“NICKNICKNICKNICKNICK…” it begins, and goes into the journey through Iowa and almost unexpectedly jokes about how it’s “almost as flat as I am, HA.”

The last thing that girl needed was ample bosoms.

Continuing on, he hits a bummer pretty soon when she goes over the agenda, starting with a hike.

After forcing himself though that, part, and pausing several times, more deep sighs than he can count and nearly tearing up, she starts a new paragraph.

“Once we get back can we spend a day at a lake or something? I can use the car, would just be great if, well, I’ve always wanted someone to hold me in the water. OK I’m blushing so hard right now I hope no one looks at me but, well, I said it. Hope that doesn’t freak you out but I often wonder where things are leading. But if you don’t feel the same way I understand, I just hope we can do more fun stuff like we have been, okey dokey smokey?”

And there it is. 

She closes it out pretty soon. 

Nick sits there feeling like a bag of wet concrete, almost wishing he had read this sooner since the night feels like a nasty monster closing in.

Something prompts him to check the manila envelope again and there’s a small note, and in a very shaky hand, 

“Enjoy the magazine, but not too much :P  Love always, Sabrina.” Like a station signing off. True to herself to the very end.

And then, his blood runs cold but his insides get warmer. Tomorrow will help heal. And with that, the envelope takes its rightful place beneath the Trotters’ box in his closet.

He looks forward to spending time with Marci, just in what capacity is unclear, but instinctively her kindness is genuine and they have both lost the same thing, and, well, who knows. Having another sharp gal in the mix rarely does him harm.

So he slowly drifts downstairs and plops onto the couch, and Irene gets him to talk it out some.

Just as he was headed to pee, brush teeth and settle in the phone rings, it’s Miss Geena. In true gentlemanly form he sneaks in the pee by trifling on the bowl surface then leaving it be while she recounts her day, then he does the same.

“Nicky I’m glad she got to know you at least, wish I could have met her, she sounds like a trip.”

“Trip and a half.”

“So…you know I’m tempted to suggest we sneak out, but….”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me something?”

“Sure.” 

“If I would have given you blessing to go, well, all the way, would you?”

Nick pauses, partially as the tingle kicks in. “No.”

Silence.

“Okay then, can I ask why not?”

His best answer, “You could get pregnant I mean, I’d do the, well, the other thing -.”

“Not with me you won’t! That’s…no, sorry.”

“I wouldn’t try that, don’t worry.”

“I know…I, but…” obviously flustered, “OK…so, .and that’s the only reason?”

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t want to chance it, even just a little.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I dunno, just seems…well, are you waiting for someone special?”

Nick pauses. “For that, I don’t know. I just don’t see why there’s all these girls at school getting pregnant, dropping out, they can’t do anything else but take care of a baby -”

“So who are you protecting?”

He pauses again. “That’s a good question.”

Geena draws a breath, “Nick, you really are unique, you know that? Actually, we’re a lot alike, we’re blessed with a sense of purpose, those girls getting pregnant don’t have that, and the guys doing it surely could care less. Be thankful, I know I am thankful to know you.”

“Thanks.”

She sighs, “Sorry to go deep on you, we’re all trying to figure it out aren’t we?”

“Seems like it.”

After a pause, “Well, I just wanted to check in on you, I’ll be praying and thinking on the drive tomorrow.”

“Be careful.”

“I will, good night, and thanks for being you.”

“You too.”

At this point Nick is relaxed enough to just drop off without putting the phone on the charger, brushing teeth, or opening the window. His remaining conscious thoughts wander back to Geena’s porcelain legs, she has big pores that remind him of a coral reef.

Balls

7/22/88

Hey JERK,

So I just got off the phone with Geena, how does such a nice girl like her seem to like you so much? You know I have to bust your little BALLS after what you pulled, but in all fairness, we probably needed a break. But still, you know that hurt me, were you even thinking? But still MORE…well, I haven't heard your side of the story yet. It better be good, too!

Also you may or may not know, I ran into your mom at K-Fart back before school was out, she promised not to tell and probably didn't, she's such a nice lady, how did YOU ever come from her? (Okay I am probably enjoying this too much) But I teared up and she hugged me and we had a nice talk, I was glad you were doing OK, and yes, maybe a little too glad to hear you had been miserable after we stopped talking, but then, well, so was I.

But I dug into homework and back in the winter I started martial arts and that has helped me work though, well, a number of things, hoping to go get all the belts if I can, so WATCH OUT! :)

Also your mom mentioned you've filled out a bit since I saw you, and I got Geena to admit she likes your butt - so you actually grew one droopy drawers? HA! It's probably a good thing she's going away soon or you might seduce her with your SMOOTH MOVES HA HA!

OK I will try to get serious for a moment, I think we both needed to grow up a bit, they say as juniors (you DID pass, didn't you? HA) we will be a lot more mature than last year, so who knows, hoping that’s where the karate helps. If nothing else, I hope we can go to each other's grad party, you can come to mine if there's room left once everyone important gets an invite HA!

And if you do have the BALLS to drive by the house, maybe I'll be mowing and you can catch a glimpse of paradise, and if I see you maybe I WON'T flip you off!

OK I was kinda mad when I started writing this but now it's gotten fun. Anyway I better deal with Sam who's beating down my door, I won't tell her who I'm writing but she thinks you're neat, but what does she know? :^D

That's it for now, 

Peace...

DJ

Die Hard

Friday July 23, 1988

Nick is with Geena’s group at an understandingly full showing of Die Hard. None of them got carded even though the box office clerk is in his class at school, Allan just grinned in a way that seemed to wish him luck with his fine date.

The rhythm of this week really did fall around her piano schedule, since she would practice at the church on her own on Tuesdays and Thursdays, plus get ready to travel several counties back to her college on Sunday. 

Yesterday centered around filling out the application for Casper’s Grocery and tracking down a couple of references. Deke of course is his all-star, but then he called Marci, partly to see if she would be willing and also to see if any updates. 

She pointed out two things, 

    a) Just call one of your teachers, most of them are in the book and love to be references. Nick can’t believe he didn’t think of that.

    b) The Staas’ were supposed to head back yesterday and will get back sometime over the weekend.

And so he left a message for their chemistry teacher, who he will likely see next week at the funeral.

There’s no hurry to get hired, and he would have to get a work permit from the school office once hired, evidently it’s case-by-case.

This morning Nick ran errands and swung past Stass’ for probably the last time before they get back. The pile has grown a tad since Wednesday, but still an impressive showing. That gave him an idea, so he got to the florist just before they closed for lunch and picked up a pink rose.

And so tonight he agreed to join a group activity for a couple reasons, partly to help redeem their intense alone-time and also since it meant a lot to her, those big eyes are hard to turn down, dammit.

It turns out her folks are pretty laid back and they had good chemistry, they know his own parents from the church world and so there weren’t a lot of questions, well, despite last fall’s adventure, and yes Geena can cook, not surprisingly. She whipped up a goulash, something Irene hadn’t done in a while, the peppers seemed very fresh and they had plenty of the Kraft crumb-cheese in the green can.

It also turns out that couch is a nice slate blue, but that’s not where they spent the evening. The basement is partly furnished and partly storage behind paneled walls, and there’s a cozy older sofa and TV hidden away down there. This felt like a set up as they settled in to watch the one and only Harry Caray do his thing from the booth as the Cubs took the field, and it’s evident that she wants to neck during commercial breaks. This goes on for about an inning and a half before she whispers if she can do some more research, then calmly undoes his belt and digs out her little friend.

And so with her head mostly facing away she figures it out, which moves get a response, slurps a couple times, apologies if he jumps, but takes her time and even explores the twins a little. Nick is starting to wonder if he’s being tested somehow, but again, he understands the need to experiment. With that, he tries to explore a little beneath her denim skirt but gets his hand removed and at one point gets gently bit till he gives up.

When the finish seems close he gyrates a little, and she starts using her hand, and it’s not long, she accepts it with a slight mmmm and consumes every drop. 

After planting another peck on the spent soldier she looks up and smiles, “How’d I do?”

“I’d say the eagle has landed.”

“That tasted kinda buttery. Should make my hair shiny, right?”

Nick has to laugh, then packs himself up and checks the score, not that he really cares at this point.

She takes a swig of her drink from supper and swishes it around playfully before giving him a peck, then it turns out there’s a little half bath down there and she hops in there, he hears a flush and he’s partly recovered and gets an idea. 

When she takes her place next to him, he puts a hand gently on her thigh, “Your turn, my dear.”

“WHAT?”

Nick slides onto the floor and puts a hand on each of her knees. “I want a taste.”

“NICK! You can’t be serious. I just peed!”

Nick just raises an eyebrow.

This gets that inhaled huff and that adorable wide-eyed glare of hers, but she relents, 

“You’re incorrigible, you know that? But my panties stay on and, well, stay outside, know what I mean?”

“Of course,” then begins kissing her knees, thighs, and gradually works his way downtown, which is warm and pretty sensitive, so he tries to be gentle. His only geographical reference is from those trashy magazines they used to find on bike rides, but he has an idea somewhere in the middle is what she wants, but he just kinda takes swipes once he gets her spread, she really is tangy as she smells, soft pillowy lips, and so far she seems unsure of this, until,

“OH…right there.”

And so he continues, but pretty soon, 

“Easy…easy…”

So he tries to go easy, and seems to find a balance, finds a rhythm, she holds his head, he holds the outsides of her thighs, and eventually,

PUFF

“SORRY!” After a couple deep breaths, “I think my eagle just landed, Nicky.”

So he pecks her tender hood and slides back up on the couch, and she leans on him for the ninth inning and dozes off.

And so, tonight is for group stuff so they can mellow out and keep it above ground. Although, when he presented that rose he made a sly double entendre regarding her promised land and got the huff-and-glare for his trouble.

On the way to the theater she messes with the stock AM/FM radio and finds Richard Marks crooning Hold On To The Night and leaves it there but low enough to talk over. 

“Did you mention finding certain magazines on the side of the road, what, from your bike?”

“Yeah or sometimes they get stashed under rocks here and there until someone steals ‘em. I never brought one into the house.”

“I wouldn’t think you would. Are they really….like, nasty?”

“Usually just the ones they sell at a gas station behind the counter, the feature the crappy stories and like nudie events, although, well, one time it was a biker mag.”

“Oh don’t those usually have some scenery?”

“Yeah there was a centerfold, but she was obviously a model or, well, built for the camera you might say, and tan all over. But the other gal was just, well, an every day babe, had tan lines and just messing with tools in a shop, she even held a wrench up to her, well, a nibble.”

Geena had worked into quite a laugh at this point, “Every day babe, huh?”

Then at some point later muses she needs to work on some tan lines of her own.

Once the movie starts, Nick finds it interesting how the church youth-group types generally avoid using R-rated language but don’t hesitate to consume it. He could do without the intensity and especially all the blood - how would someone survive that level of exsanguination? But in those moments he tries to get in a nibble or two since he’s on the far side of the group, but she playfully avoids it.

They agree on Friendly’s for shakes and Nick drives carefully in Ned’s pickup, they agreed he could use the practice and it’s way cooler than a wagon. Nick was pensive and Geena seems to have caught on. 

After the final lesson this morning they sat on the front step for a few and she related calling Danni. 

“She seemed distracted when I mentioned your name, but says she’s doing as well as expected these days.”

And now, he’s distracted. 

The rest of the evening goes as one would expect, three of each gender and pretty fun group and so Nick just politely keeps quiet. One of the guys had some questions about starting guitar when that came up but it was good to just listen, especially as the weight of the next few days starts to set in.

The standout is Greg, actually a couple classes ahead of Geena at a different college and even more steeped in activity, but seemingly tireless, genuinely gregarious (no pun intended), quick with the humor. Thankfully Greg keeps the conversation going and brings Nick in from time to time,

“So you’re awful quiet, what do you think?”

“Oh no one’s paying me to think.”

Which gets a heartier laugh than he’d expected. A few times he thinks of a story that might fit in here or there but doesn’t feel like it would really land, so, yeah. These are not his stars.

Greg makes him wonder how Kevin is doing out there, somewhere.

Nick brings up the R-rated language double standard with Geena and she admits the paradox but ultimately chalks it up these ever changin’ times.

It was around 10:30 when they arrived at her house, he popped the tailgate and they drew out the elongated goodbye. They admitted they probably wouldn’t keep in touch but she would let Irene know how camp goes, and then, we’d see.

“Nick, let’s not rule anything out, deal?”

“Deal.”

There’s still that unidentifiable energy about her, she’s expecting something, maybe…anticipating? Deejay had that going on as well and Nick tried to ignore it. Starting to look like he won’t always get to ignore it.

After a shower, Nick stretches out with the window open, but needs something else, then finds some reliable classical on the low end of the FM dial and dozes off a handful of times as he tries to keep riding this buzz as long as he can.

It finally came to mind how many times he had been put off at the sight of girls who were obvious about their desires, the creepy leering, usually when one or more of them, well, the ones with bad reps, would get to laughing and whispering, make the stupid comments that seemed to come from left field. Evidently they’re preoccupied with this stuff, the stuff of life, as it were, and someone with a balance life, well, like he strives for, just kinda deals with it as it comes along.

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.