The Greeting

June, 1990

About a week after the furor of Nick’s foray into public-access mass media, his parents accompanied him to Deejay’s grad party. 

They arrive, say, fifteen minutes into the start time and he went so far as to wear jeans and a button up shirt, after a lot of consternation, indecision, feeling silly about it all, then just dressing like he would to school but even on a warm day, then Ned made him drive at least so he could show up with hair on his knuckles.

He hadn’t seen her in months, chance meeting at a store, then before that they met at the fair last summer, seems a tradition had begun, but with senior year and stuff they just kept their cheeky exchange of greeting cards in the mail as a pulse.

As soon as they pull in he can see none other than Deej running toward the car, through the grass in a beige dress, stockings but no shoes. Nick parks and opens the door, and before he can grab her card from the dash she pulls him out, flips him over her back then pins him down on the ground with an elbow in his sternum, then stares him down, highly amused lipid eyes clearly fighting a laugh, she charges,

“You’re LATE.”

Nick can only squeak out, “May I pee my pants now, ma'am?”

She pulls his scrawny ass to his feet and lets him off the hook with one of those full contact squeeze-holds of hers as he hears applause from all around.

Well, a least it won’t seem awkward being here now.

The craziest part was the pic he snapped of her at the softball game glaring at him from within the obligatory collage, the very same 5x7 he had made at Kmart.

The Hideaway

Nick awakens from a dream that had started with hearing Noreen on a radio program, or maybe she was the program, as a very hip big city jock just dishing it out between tracks, killing at every turn, but then, he could feel her, for the first time in, well, months, to be fair. Since the fall kicked in they were really not as close as at first, but then, it seems everything went as planned. Even if history were to judge they had been using each other in some ways, it never felt that way.

Sometime late summer  he was over there during the week and she needed something from Bart’s empty house, as they were doing something with the kiddos. While there, Nick had the strong notion to instigate just a good snorkely once-over, to make her feel good, a surprise, but yet, the timing wasn’t - and she kept looking here and there for whatever it was, something from the paper, and he was just about to put his hands on her sides from behind then she flips around, “Got it!”

And then they watched TV, relaxed after a long day all around she dozed off, then he drove home, and now, he can’t help but wonder if he should have made a move that night, just another night, one he can’t have back, with a gal who’s now in another dimension. Seems like he owes her so much.

And then a few days ago while flipping around the car radio dial he hits Stevie Nicks belting out Gypsy and nearly has to pull over, he hadn’t heard it since that summer day after the fair. Leave it to Deej to catch on and pry it out, then push back,

“Okay, sweetie – that’s all fine, I get it and you know what? She’s feeling it even worse, just let me help you through it.”

And so this has churned up some angst, which, in earlier days he would have worked out, to help process, sure, that works, but alas, he’s not alone. A certain Sam had spent the night to work on music with Irene, her new favorite aunt, evidently Tim’s room was too hollow so she’s curled up in the bedspread from that room between him and the wall. 

He’d also realized of late that since fall term had started, he and Noreen were often going through the motions physically, not that it wasn’t meaningful, but it was more a release for its own sake, had they been, well, helping each other use each other, to an extent?

What bugs him most is that he doesn’t know how to sum it up. For that matter, he doesn’t know if it even can be summed up.

And then...well, that damn Polaroid of a certain brunette, with the back view, has lent itself to fleeting notions of landing on top of her for, this n’ that. The thing is, the vibe hints that she could be persuaded into a clandestine encounter, one that would fuck up everything right in their lives. And for that fleeting moment Nick can’t help but imagine he could get away with just about anything in that situation. And so, yeah. 

But, what works is that April is more of a vicarious friend through the Eversole sisters and so we’ll go with that.

The sun isn’t out yet and the only sounds are faint classical and the steady breathing of a scrawny blond, now with an asymmetrical haircut that, the more he sees it, really works for her, in a creative-punk kinda way, fits her attitude at least. Does his mom have any idea the mouth this kid has on her, coupled with her highly unconventional, improvised approach at life in general, but somehow embraces certain conventional role models with all her soul, makes her probably more enigmatic than anyone he’s ever met. 

Just as Nick is finding some consciousness she stirs and toots daintily.

Before passing further judgment he takes a few breaths but thankfully the offense remains contained. Her breathing was no longer that of rhythmic sleep so he tries, 

“You’re excused, by the way.”

“I owed you one.”

“Eat it.”

This gets a giggle so he leaves it at that. 

And he would certainly swap this one out for her sister in half a heartbeat, but that will have to wait, Eversole the Elder is at Brenda’s for a sleepover that’s not for minors, there were hints of wine coolers (gasp). The plan was to bug, well, Noreen until she wore down and agreed to join them, and Deej even went to her office and got a promise, sworn on sisterhood, as the story goes. Evidently there might be some Mel Gibson movies involved, or who knows. 

Nick was beat after a hectic (but rewarding) week and took a customary chill night, even after Sam was dropped off after supper while he soaked.

And so the latter part of the evening was spent messing with the radio while Sam sat there playing solitaire after resetting the game to standard rules, which started some argumentative banter so classic he wishes he could have taped it. Somehow, their mutual introvertedness doesn’t seem at all draining; they get to remain in their own worlds. Sam’s the kind who expects to be ignored but thinks the world of anyone who gives her a chance.

* * * * *

“Nicky, she cried some, I made her talk it out, she’s already cried with her family some but I think she needed this.”

Nick just stares at they head to Taco Bell.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, just had a weird dream last night.”

Deej pauses. “Oh, about…her?”

“Yeah…kinda, mostly just her voice though.”

“Well, we can talk about it later -”

“It’s OK, go on hon.”

“Well, that’s about it, but I feel better about it all now, and after that she got into the dumb games -”

“Mmmm hmmm”

“WHAT?”

Nick just grins.

“Hey it was fun, something your type doesn’t understand.”

“We have fun.”

“That we do, but it was really good, I got to know Brenda better - OH, can you keep a secret?”

“Who would I tell?”

“Yeah really, well, she finds you…intimidating.”

“Please.”

“She does, she doesn’t feel smart, and hates computers.”’

“Well I barely tolerate the damn things, I’ll tell her everything I know, won’t take long.”

“Well I think she’ll warm up to you more now. She really likes Vance, if you can believe it.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, she really wants to settle down and thinks they have a shot, and April is totally cool with it, she’s got a new outlook, gonna grow her hair out some, she’s really turned a corner,  you know, since -”

“Since the rocket ride?”

“NICHOLAS!”

“Weren’t those your exact words?” 

She doesn’t respond so he looks over to find her staring out window shaking her head, then keeps driving.

Before long she leans back in the seat in the Celica. “Where are you taking me?”

“Still Taco Smell?”

“Hmm, can we do pizza?”

No answer, but he glances over to get one of her grins, a slightly condescending “good boy” kind of affirmation, but he’ll take it. She’s been trying for more greens lately and next to the salad bar they still do by the slice till 3, pretty affordable too.

As they finish up a slice and salad (something Nick realizes he needs to try and arrange more often) Deej wants to check out The Hideway, out toward the freeway exit.

“Are you sure?” He prods. 

“Yeah, I hear they have some crazy stuff in there and might come in handy for gifts.”

“But, don’t they have, like…<almost whispers> roll papers papers and weed pipes, that shit?”

Deej rolls her eyes, “you afraid of getting busted?”

So despite his reservations he tries to join her rebellious spirit and they head that way, and it doesn’t help matters there’s an armed guard near the door.

Once inside and near the incense rack she whispers, “Maybe they’ve had problems with holdups being near the freeway.”

“Great.”

So they take in the wall of irreverent t-shirts, and some with bands, - ooh, Black Crowes is tempting so he gives her a hint in case she’s got a hook in the water. The place smells nice, must be the candles and incense. There’s a selection of lava lamps, which he thinks would be nice to have on with the TV, but then,

Deej whispers again, “Oooh howbout we’re all alone with nothing on but a lava lamp?”

Without a beat he fires back, “Note to self…”

She giggles and jabs his ribs, to which he jumps and sends her into further hysterics. 

Nick tries to ignore it and peer into the adults only section, just when a manager type asks, 

“Can I help you find anything?”

Nick whips around and immediately pulls out his billfold to show his ID, “We’re legal age.”

The manager grins, “Did you come in just to mess with me?”

Nick tries to play it off as his ears get hot, then notices Deej facing him, mouth covered and about to fall over laughing as she opens the door.

They proceed into the grownup novelty section, and yes, the bongs and such, but she takes his arm and pecks his cheek, still a bit teary and giggling as they take in all the things shaped as various body parts.

* * * * *

Later on as he sets up an orange lava lamp he suggests they work on that song she and Sam started, but she hates to sing alone so he plays it best he can while she watches approvingly. 

With their families at home group at this point of the week, Nick earnestly tries to make this time together more than the inevitable, but there’s one thing he’s been wondering, that obscure Krokus track, from way back, so he fishes out the tape.

“OK tell me if you would have dug this at all back around freshman year…”

So he starts the tape and joins her on the bed, and after the first chorus, let’s just say she clearly answers the question, in the affirmative sense, without any room for doubt, and then the answering continues, in one form or another, until after the tape clicks off almost 45 minutes later.

Six Flags

Tuesday July 15, 1986

Nick is shotgun in a ‘78 Country Squire wagon driven by Dean Eversole.

Danni had called Sunday afternoon to pitch one of her magic adventures, a church trip to Six Flags over past St. Louis. Nick could ride with them in the Land Yacht (her term) if he sprang for his ticket at a group rate and brought some foldin’ money for meals, and maybe chip in some for gas? Surprisingly Tim didn’t try to angle himself in this time, seems he’d been trying to get in time with Trina Pugh lately, good luck, Nick didn’t think anyone was in her league. For reference, Trina was the subject of Nick’s daydreams of being stranded on a desert island and the only thing she had to wear happened to be pastel-green panties he’d seen in the Sears catalog.

But back in the present, Nick was given choice of seating since he and Dean are the only males in this group, and his gut went for the open road and good view of the arch, as opposed to the awkwardness of being the only male in back. Plus, Dean is agreeable company really, he doesn’t press or preach much, and the banter now and then is pretty easy, plus plus, Nick is even trying his hand at somewhat corny humor now and then, for better or worse.

Well, mostly worse of course.

He had heeded his mom’s advice and dressed for the weather and water rides, leave the billfold at home, keep your money in a Ziploc bag, skip the socks and keep the laces TIGHT.

Not long after they get onto 70 he gets a note and a pen. 

“How’s the air up there?”

Nick grins and thinks for a second. She ended up way in the rear with Beth, whom Nick had met once, and a rather enchanting, dark-featured Susan, complete with a strong vibe, which is just what he needs today. Nancy, Sam and one of her gal pals from church fill out the middle seat as a much quieter buffer zone from all the cackling back there. Surely this note will be fodder.

He writes, “Not so bad now but not sure my deodorant his holding up. Later on we’ll all be craving pizza,” then passes it back to Nancy with the same wry grin.

About two beats later he hears a familiar laugh, then a snort, then harder laughter, and on it goes. Surprisingly he doesn’t get the paper back as the morning becomes day and the windows are cracked further now. Actually his deodorant situation is not much concern as he’s wearing a muscle shirt - although that term is loosely applied in terms of his physique.

Dean fishes around the dial of the Aeronutronic dual-bander and settles on some MOR/oldies, which the gals in the rear third join in on now and then. Nick probably dozes off to this a couple times until Nancy leans forward, “Honey can we find a drug store or something? Sam is a little queasy.”

“I think Vandalia should have something.”

And so Nick is prone to stare out his side window, hopefully this queasy situation doesn’t escalate, and the possibility is a tad unnerving. He’s never sure if it’s worse to be surprised by sickness or have to worry about it. For some reason he turns back to look at her, Nancy had wet a hanky to dab her forehead, Sam sees him looking and smiles, so he throws her a wink. Now facing the road ahead is a lot easier. 

And before long the road ahead brings them to a trusty KMart, they park among some free spaces further out and soon as the engine is off the fifth door opens and Danni’s Angels jump into action, then Dean opens his door, 

“Nick I’m gonna check under the hood while we’re here, wanna stretch your legs?”

And so they both hop out and Nick gets a gander at the doghouse, 400 cubes of blue power. 

Dean checks the oil, “Yeah she can pass anything but a gas pump, but at least we can hold our own on the highway.” Deej had mentioned they like to give rides to church, something Nick found all to familiar.

The hood slams as the trio scurries back their way, trying to keep on time and arrive by 10am, and so they take their seats and strap in. Pretty soon the gaggle returns to the rear deck, the rear door shuts as Dean starts up in getaway fashion.

Nick relaxes in the ample bench seat as he hears a box pop open, and feels relief as Sam should be chewing a Bonine or whatever. Thankfully Nick had never suffered from motion sickness per se, although sometimes his head will feel weird after a series of tight hilly curves.

His thoughts are interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and sees Nancy holding a travel-size Secret deodorant stick, 

“This is from Danni.”

He turns around to look at her giving the ‘expectant’ look, echoed by two faces from the Peanut Gallery, and Sam and her yet nameless companion whispering together.

Speechless, Nick just shakes his head, shrugs, pops off the cap and applies it while eyeing DJ between swipes, closes the lid, 

“Thank you, dear,” then tosses it back her way, then turns around rather than watching for a reaction.

“Eww it’s got HAIRS on it now!” DJ whines knowingly.

“You’re welcome,” Nick offers, which gets a surprising laugh as a payoff of sorts, feeling for once like he’s at least caught up with her, not that he expects that feeling to last long.

At the next exit there’s a white building with no windows and a shielded parking lot, with a huge sign, the inevitable ADULT BOOK STORE - MOVIES, and in smaller lettering, PRIVATE VIEWING BOOTHS. Surprisingly Dean doesn’t call this out but Nick can’t help but remember walking to school with Tim and some other characters a while back when someone mentioned that the private viewing booths are so you can wrestle with One-Eyed Jack. At first Nick whimsically pictured some muscular, rugged cyclops ready to go to the mat but couldn’t see how that related, until one evening a few months later in the bathroom when confronted with the relevant activity and it fell into place, making it difficult to concentrate, and so it goes. 

And then, for whatever reason this brought back the time Tim riffed on the Sunday School song where the devil could sit on a tack, except sit on his sack, a rendition which thankfully came about many years after he would have blurted it out at church and condemned them all to fire and brimstone.

So Nick turns to the window and chuckles to himself as things calm down, although little by little, increasing signs of civilization come and go, some large AM antenna farms, a sense of established industry, and finally, the Old Man Miss and the eternal Arch, which Nick hadn’t seen since they went camping over this way a while back. Large cities are always too much to take in at once, how he wishes he could see what KSHE-95 is playing but even a walkman would seem out of place, with this group, at least. KSHE will have to wait till the next time he swings the antenna around on a good day. Plenty of radio billboards cause him to resist the urge to request something to write them down as he would have done in earlier years.

* * * * * 

The day had gone as expected, Nick walked with the Three Amigas and usually next to the Deej, especially in the flume ride where he was at the back and she leaned against him as though it were a daily occurrence. But then, she just had to ask him what he’d been grinning about here and there and so he reluctantly related the lore of Jack and the Sack, after which she sat up, leaned forward as if suddenly remembering something to ask Beth, and, from then on, seemed more distant than she had been since they met.

And so, Nick was fine to resume his shotgun seat and doze off for most of the quiet ride home. 

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.