Closure

Sunday Morning, November 22, 1992

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF SABRINA KAITLYN STAAS

October 12, 1970 - July 19, 1988

AND TO ALL OUR BELOVED STUDENTS WE LOST TO AN UNTIMELY PASSING

Nick and Deej stand before the granite stone in the small flowerbed in front of JHS, leaning on each other and sobbing mercilessly. 

He had hit a wall.

Yesterday had been a slow start but he headed out to Fred’s to hone out a glitch in the server that had bugged him all night, after which, it finally felt like a weekend. They have been letting it burn in and things are still ahead of expectations, should be able to deploy next month then fully cut over in the new year.

Deej made good on her mission to do a basic self-defense/exercise session with the gals, with a good turnout including some of the home group and, yes, even Miss Noreen. 

After that, Nick made good on his promise to assist with music, as he’d ended up hanging on to Noreen’s bass and amp on extended loan, since she figured it would serve a better purpose with these screwballs. Since most of the selections are guitar-friendly it’s generally not hard to just follow the same chart as Sam, although she practices quite a bit more.

All this went down at the usual church rec room they rent out for Saturday activities, although during the non-musical portions our power couple mostly hung out in the kitchen. She really did sense Uncle Frank was “circling the block” and it just seemed right to just chill to some silly TV in the evening before she went home.

But through all that, Nick knew what he needed to do today, and finally come clean. 

He had insisted on picking her up and requested they try for outside stuff today, but on the ride over he couldn’t seem to say much and they just held hands, and now, in a light drizzle, it finally comes together.

“So you were close to her?”

“Lab partner the year before, then we got to hang out a couple times before the trip.”

More sobs and silence.

Finally Nick sighs. “I didn’t want to have to choose.”

She looks over at him, “Nick…”

He sighs again.

“Sweetie it’s okay, I get it.” She pauses, “When you feel better, tell me what she was like, OK?”

Nick draws a breath, “Let’s just say…” and then relates the legendary rendition of Smoke On The Water, and then his relating that, in turn, at the memorial.

She giggles as the sobs have let up some, “Oh Nicky.”

“Yeah, that sums it up.”

After a pause, she picks it up, “Well I’m glad you found a way to let me in, I got the sense something was up, that time at the fair, but things were weird enough back then.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“So…”

He turns to her, and can’t help a tad of distraction at how striking she looks after tearing, “Yeah, still wanna take a walk or too cold?”

“Hey I’m bundled up, just may need a restroom here and there.”

“Campus?”

“Where else?”

So they stroll toward his car on the nearest curb. “So is her family still around?”

Nick clears his throat, “Actually I just found out he’s up in the big town, but you might have had him if you take any psych/sosh. He’s about as mellow as a person can be. Tish worked at the law firm with Deke but wanted to level up so she’s going into law herself.”

“Wow, I mean, that can be rough on a couple.”

“Yeah, I’ve been quietly hoping they’d be OK, such nice folks, free thinking, so damn smart…they know so much about the real world.”

Deej lets that float, then sighs. “Are you surprised neither of us burst into flames during the service yesterday?”

“Yeah that was…different, but nice, good to be supportive.”

Once inside the Celeca and headed out, Deej picks up,

“Sam wanted me to sing up front.”

“Bless her, such a, well, not vile, but - “

“Yeah such a mouth like that and helping with worship, although, well, at least she’s not hypocritical about it.”

He snaps his fingers, “This is true, the group seems to accept folks where they’re at.”

“Lucky for you so do I.”

Nick slowly looks her way to see one of those freaky grins that Sam does, then shakes his head.

“Wanna stop in on your mistress?”

“Why not.”

So he turns down that road and she touches his face. “Nicky I’m…not to get all girly, but, I’m thankful you shared this with me today.”

“Yeah…oh, I’ll show you something back at the house, haven’t looked at it since…well...”

“Gotcha.”

At Dawsons' they find Miss April on her bed hitting the books, probably the big term assignment; she only took a few credits this term to focus on roofing but will pick it up in the winter. She looks confident today, definitely growing her hair out a bit longer.

“Keep this up and you’ll be outta my league,” he prods.

This doesn’t even get him a look, she just locks eyes with Deej as they silently plot his eminent demise.

Deej catches her up on the weekend as Nick looks around, he’d never seen her space but it’s aptly efficient and not a thing out of place. 

Pretty soon April fires, “Don’t TOUCH anything.”

Nick casually faces the other way and places a finger on his right buttock, which Deej promptly kicks the same spot with pinpoint accuracy, without any regard to his poor index finger.

April manages to channel her laughter into a saucy taunt, “Alright, big guyyy, you have an assignment this week.”

He turns around, “Really now.”

“Brenda needs someone to look at her work computer, here,” then rips off half a piece of notebook paper.

“Do I have to memorize this and eat it?”

April looks at Deej to toss her the question. Deej grins, and in a patronizing tone, 

“Not if he finishes his peas and ka-wots.”

Nick and April somehow join in unison, “Awwwww.”

Deej picks it up, “We’re gonna go for a walk or something…” then they go over their week schedule heading into Turkey Day.

At this point the plan calls for Thanksgivings with grandparents, of course the Swansons will trek north (Tim understandably heads to the Quads with his gal) then the Eversoles will host when Nancy’s parents get to join, and Nick will try to meet them at some point since they’re camping out in the living room – they bring their own cots! How efficient.

Before heading out out the girls hug as usual, then Nick nearly gets pulled onto April’s bed - she sure knows how to keep her antics on the annoying side, but it’s a taste of his own medicine.

Back in the car she prods, “Look at you getting business left and right.”

“Doesn’t anyone else in town do this shit?”

“Maybe folks just trust you.”

Nick just grunts, as he doesn’t relish the fact of servicing a lot of clueless tech users, but then, Brenda gets special consideration.

“Want me to go with you to her office?”

“If it works out, but I should be OK.”

She reaches for his hand as they continue to campus.

Almost out of habit they head to his office and the fresh burst of energy nearly catches him off guard, although he may have sensed it coming on just a twinge. She sits on the edge of his desk, the lights stay off and they get to the point of rubbing jeans and heavy breathing before someone’s tummy growls. After a couple more huffs, 

“Alright sport, is the snack bar open?”

After a couple more pecks on her neck, “I’m broke.”

“Bull-shit.”

“Yeah they’re open.”

“Mmmmm hmm, howbout we leave some sugar for dessert…”

“Let’s go.”

About then a song from the old nighttime FM106 lineup comes a hauntin’ from latter day Molly Hatchet…I’m just a satisfied man.

They really hadn’t gotten much alone time this week but it’s understood weekends are set aside as much as possible, and despite the gloom this feels just right. As they depart the Tech building Nick gets that twinge that’s been creeping in lately, where he wonders when he’ll be finished here. He had never really warmed up to the idea of lecturing, which had at one time seemed intriguing, but lately it’s clear that things are taking a different shape, so we’ll give the freelance thing a chance. He really would like to pursue a bachelors at some point, but as always, anything’s possible.

A couple of the folks from his general EET group were continuing on at the U, something Nick hadn’t locked in on just yet. Fred sometimes hinted that a business degree would do him some good but at heart he considered himself an engineer – but not the kind that fit into any particular, well, at least traditional academic discipline except maybe electrical, well, sort of. But he’d like to pursue computer science at some point, for what that’s worth.

But for now our heroes lock pinkies, he in a dark blue hooded slicker and she in a clear poncho over her cute faded-pink hoodie, and trek toward Gelding in a thinning drizzle but thankfully no breeze. It feels like the deal will be to assess the situation after some chow as for a walk, at this point he still hopes to hit the trail despite any mud, sounds like an adventure.

They reach the snack bar which is the usual level of sparse for a Sunday, and Nick does a cheeseburger this time, she’s hungry enough for a hot dog and they split fries of course.

Once in place he initiates locking of ankles, then reflects.

“So, how many weeks since I brought you here from Dawsons’?”

She pauses and flashes a gaze that hints he landed a good one. “Nick…”

“For the record, this is the way it should be.”

She draws a breath, “Nick you’re going to get me choked up in here.”

He pauses a few seconds, takes a bite, then once it’s down, “It’s been crazy, but you keep me centered, just like always, just, well, from up close.”

She sets her hot dog down and grabs a napkin to dab her eyes.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to say.”

“And just like always, you sure pick your moments. I keep waiting for you to slip me a tape under the table.”

They laugh and go on munching.

Once the tray is busted they agree to drive to the trailhead and see how far they get, and so, about 30 feet in the nostalgia kicks in and it’s clear they still have the magic. Thankfully this is autumn and so dampness doesn’t really cause mud except on your soles, early spring is when you’ll get caked and wear yourself out after about 100 feet.

After a pause for more sugar they walk on, and she ponders, 

“So you have a bass line for our little project?” 

The little project they cooked up is a track, actually, a deliciously cynical one, about a girl who lives in a house trailer with her mom. As for the music…well, Sam likes to geek out with oldies radio (now where’d she get that from?) while doing homework and came up with a playful melody in a major key. But then she caught on to the sound of Bobby Gentry and Jeannie Riley and their respective hits (although, understandably, neither Sam nor Nick are old enough to tell those fine artists apart) and so the hunt was on for that sound. After some digging at a liberry Nick was able to get the story straight and, as luck would have it, track down Ms. Gentry’s Ballad of Billy Joe in his parents’ dusty, forgotten stash of 45s.

So, one Friday night they sat with guitars and tried to find the sound, he knew to start with a seventh, but eventually, leave it to Sam, she played around and found the #9 to spice it up with a ill’ hot damn.

And as for the bass line, “Yeah, just a four-note riff kinda thing, notes in the chord probably.”

“She is totally geeked about recording that over the holidays.”

“Yeah, will be cool to have something mixed with that board then play it in the car.” The plan was to borrow the small mixing board from the home group and go through the track with Sam playing an electric, both girls singing the parts they do, and Deej with some toy maracas for timekeeping, and Nick on the bass. Since the bass can be direct, this setup needs just 2 mics but he hopes they don’t drive each other nuts in the process. 

Deej gives him a wry look, “Swanson why is that the first thing out of your mouth?”

“At least it’s not fish breath,” which, right on cue, sets her into a bawdy laugh.

“Umm, you’ll have to wait for that at this point. I think we have company.”

“Great...may you bear it well.”

“I don’t think you want me to bare anything right now,” stressing the intended pun.

“Alright, so…not sure I ever mentioned, the song, umm...”

“What about it?”

“Well, at first, the lyrics rubbed me the wrong way, until I caught on.”

She slows a little. “Why didn’t you say something, babe?”

“It’s…I probably never mentioned, but - actually, this is tied in with Sabrina…”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, her closest friend at school, Marci, lived in a trailer with her mom, but - “

“Ouch,”

“Well it’s OK, since they were nothing, absolutely nothing like that.”

“OK good.”

“Yeah, and after I caught on, and I hate to admit, her lyrics are pretty damn clever.”

“It sneaks up on you don’t it?”

“Just like Uncle Frank?”

She smacks his arm.

“OK bad analogy, but yeah, I can see it now - are we taking the long path?”

She pecks his cheek and veers them toward the long path.

Nick picks up, “...it’s really about the scheming, manipulative…”

“Yeah and it’s also about a mile down the road from us. The girl is a year behind Sam, GOD what a skank.”

“Yeeesh.”

“You don’t even wanna know. I swear those two are in competition, her mom is known as hot pants…”

Nick pauses and pulls the trigger, “Got their number handy?”

Silence, but he looks over to catch that wicked side-eye of hers, “Keep it up and I may feel the need to practice some martial arts out here…”

He grins, and they walk on. 

The sprinkles come and go but never seem far off.

She picks up, “So this Marci…”

“One of the coolest - smartest you’ll ever meet, a student council type, she was the one that had me do some yearbook photos, had some involvement at least.”

“Swanson I’m impressed.”

“Yeah it was fun at times, then my senior year someone else wanted a chance so I left it at that.”

“Do you keep in touch with Marci?”

“Usually Christmas cards, she went to a women’s college up by Boston, one of those, full scholarship prollably.”

She lets that float.

“So, anyway, to tie it all up, I got the sense that her dad was pretty worthless, she and her mom both worked hard and didn’t associate with males much. Marci and I hung out a couple times but, well, she…there was sort of a vibe, but anything besides yearbook stuff seemed out of reach, she tended to avoid personal topics, you know…”

“Yeah, understandable she’d have a guard up, so she keeps busy?”

“Very much so. I’d see her at the liberry more often than not.”

She takes his arm and pulls closer.

He changes gears, “So have your parents caught wind of the song yet?”

“Umm, hard no, and we’ll just keep it that way, got it?”

Nick keeps his lips pursed and blurts out “Mum’s the word” so that it forms a hummed cadence.

“I THOUGHT so,” then she fetches a peck and they walk on.

Eventually he showed her Sab’s letter; they sobbed again, but then roared at the vintage smut, so it more than balanced out.

Holiday Spirit

Tuesday, December 24, 1991

Nick struggles to find peace tonight, even after a soak.

Even after the most most positive of years, it’s possible to not realize the ‘holiday spirit’ when it rolls around. 

Then again, Nick can’t ever remember ever catching it before. In younger years, you just go with the flow, singing at school, refusing to sing at church (since it’s not a government institution…), displays at the store. One time while up at Gramma and Paps the boys got to visit a real Mall Santa, and Nick got a strange reaction when asking for a “wind-up bomber” like Bugs Bunny uses at some point - five-year-old Nick could imagine the retail packaging even at Irene’s insistence that it couldn’t possibly exist.

It wasn’t much longer after that he admitted to his mom that Santa didn’t probably exist, a belief Tim had been surprisingly complicit with (at least in appearances). Irene pleaded with him to not upset other kids with this revelation, although the few younger ones he tried it with simply didn’t believe him.

From there, it became a struggle to not be so materialistic. In seventh grade he made a point to not snoop, only to find most of his gifts (including a weight set to be shared with Tim) in the normal course of life. So what’s the point?

In the Danni years, she had managed to talk him into a youth banquet where he awkwardly sat next to her, just a tad overwhelmed at her hemline just below the knee. Nick was almost resentful that she had the nerve to look so sophisticated (in all fairness, to BE so sophisticated…) while he’s sitting there with little in common with the other attendees and feeling like some cartoon character who momentarily transforms into a braying ass after taking the bait, except, this lasted about 90 minutes, although the trademark squeeze before going home pretty much made up for it all.

Since then, and partially because of it - to be perfectly honest, he just strives to be thoughtful and supportive during the holidays, and still just go with the flow.

But this year it seems hopeless. Maybe that he’s put in so many hours for Bain that the sentiment got buried, then when Tim came back, Nick just yielded the floor for the most part, and here we are.

The tree still has all the same ornaments, all the same songs are playing all around, as do the holiday TV specials, but yet, that’s not it.

It’s tempting to call Deej, see what she thinks, but then, dunno…they exchanged cards this year, as per custom, and she seems to be up to her ears in this n’ that, and he’s not really in the mood to talk.

Radio isn’t doing the trick, but soothing music is tolerable.

After some deep breaths, and maybe dozing off, the Pax Navidad finally manifests in a very simple fact that’s been there all along, to not only go with the flow, but find the meaning each year - and every moment, for that matter - as it comes.

So he heads downstairs and is offered a grilled cheese, Tim wants to see how fresh Nick smells after his bath, then they dig out the old Atari and bash each other’s tanks around the screen and try to outdo each other with nasty comments.

And with that, Merry Christmas from all of us here at Jameson.

Sam Sam

Friday Night

After another week of ping ponging between two gigs, as he’s come to think of each realm, Nick sits across from Sam going through the guitar stuff, and alas, something seems off.

As the number comes to an end, or more to say, stumbles to an end, since they haven’t been able to work that out, he can’t resist.

“You been OK lately?”

She keeps her gaze at the floor and her arms go limp.

“Sambo?”

She smirks.

Nick stands his instrument and pops off the amp, then takes a place by her side, slips an arm around her shoulder, 

“Spill it, toots.”

She chuckles then leans back on the bed.

“There’s this dude at school….”

“Mmmm hmm.”

She pauses. “He makes a huge deal when he sees me, must be this stupid haircut.”

“I happen to like the haircut.”

She glances up at him with an exasperated smile along with the smirk, exhales, “Anyhow…it’s embarrassing, no one ever did that since like, grade school.”

“Maybe he sees what the rest of us see.”

This gets a look, well, beyond expectation, it’s more of a moment of truth. No pressure.

“Sam, you’ve been more….womanly…lately.”

Her eyebrows raise and, almost on cue, her smile takes on a, well, womanly glow. She draws a breath, keeps her face out of his view, then grabs the guitar and gets up.

“Sam?”

“Think I’ll turn in, been a long day.”

Seems we opened da pandora’s box here. “Hey,” then he catches her, pulls her face around, plants one on her cheek, and maybe, just maybe, she sorta gave one back. 

But then she quickly recoils and retreats to Tim’s room.

And so….

Well, this really calls for consultation. Deej should be home, but, man, too bad she doesn’t have a modem so they can type and he doesn’t have to talk. The only place that might be secure is the garage, and - well, that would seem a bit obvious.

But alas, this is probably overthinking; Sam likely needs alone time. 

He hits the shower since she usually does that before coming over, and once the water is off he hears her talking softly. That little stinker beat him to the punch.

So Nick heads downstairs to make an instant decaf and grab a brownie. 

At the top of the stairs, she cracks the door but stays out of view, “Can you pick up the phone? It’s Danni.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I know where you sleep.”

“Likely story.”

So he sets his stuff down and picks up, “Got it.” He hears the click, but still wonders. 

“Hey,” as he flips on the stereo and puts it on 106 for some cover.

“Dahhhling…”

“Yaess?”

“WHAT am I going to do with you?”

“Do I get a choice?”

“Well, I think you have an idea, and I’ll try not to make you talk, but is she acting kinda weird now?”

In a resigned tone, “Ya think?”

“You sure have a way with the ladies, don’t you?”

“What did she say?”

“Nick, it’s…you know, it’s a girl thing.”

“When is it NOT that?”

“Now now, but yea, our gal is starting to bloom, and you seemed to have validated it, so she may be awkward for a while.”

“Great.”

“Aren’t you happy for her?”

“Just hope she’s OK.”

“She will be. And remember she still thinks the world of you, but just even more now.”

“Another bonus babe?”

“Pretty much, stud,” followed by the expected gale of laughter.

“Why is there no technical manual for this kinda thing?”

“Stick around and you may get to write one.”

“I guess. So how’s your evening?”

“Oh, just chillin’ with Mom, we settled on the news stories, not really paying attention though.”

“Sounds about right. Waybill…you still free tomorrow?”

“Until you capture me.”

“Your voice dropped.”

“Mmmmm.”

“Well, at the moment I can’t really think about that, you know…”

“I’ll see what we can do to remedy that.…although, um, Uncle Frank is about due unfortunately.”

“Yeah it’s on my calendar.”

Silence.

“Or howbout, seems about right.”

“That’s better, soldier. Nite you”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

As soon as he hangs up, there’s a knock-knock.

“Yeah?”

Another knock-knock.

Nick cracks the door, Sam pulls his face down, plants a reciprocal smooch, then scampers off behind Tim’s door.

The only thing he can do now is finish the brownie, find the classical station, finish the decaf and try to fall asleep. Sometime in the night that 8-10 ounces of decaf will want out, but until then he recalls that time he ran into Noreen this week at the cafeteria. She was on her way out but he insisted on pulling her to a secluded spot, squeezed her heartily and they shared just one more two-beat smooch.

“Nick, this is the one time you get away with this, and thanks.”

“You still on track?”

“Yeah getting there, Thanksgiving weekend will be the last hurrah - hope you guys can come out to the shop for dinner?”

“I bet that can be arranged.”

She pauses a fat second then taps his nose, “Good, see ya.”

After a mutual cheek peck he lets her walk on and stands there a few, then heads in to lunch, and then back to lying on his bed.

Deej didn’t work that day and so that chance encounter felt a tad clandestine, but she seemed glad he made an effort just the same.

However, it’s not long to his thoughts shift to when he responded to a strong leading to check in on Steve Stass since Nick hadn’t seen him around this term, only to find his office occupied by someone else. 

Nick didn’t feel right asking around, so he caught Deke on the phone, 

“Oh man, didn’t I mention that? Yeah they’re both up north, Tish joined a practice and Steve is, well, enjoying a sabbatical I bet.”

Maybe it’s time to try and reach Marci.

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