Black Friday

Friday November 27, 1992

Once again Sam is over for their weekly huddle, proving once again that life with Deej is never short of surprises. They’re a package deal; Deej is the stable element, they are more solid than ever, which leaves Sam as the random vector. Not that Deej herself has stopped throwing him off now and then, but this pint-sized blond is all over the place.

“How come I’ve never met Brenda? She seems to be for adults only.”

Nick looks up from his fretboard, something he’s been trying not to watch - to little avail - while playing. “I’m sure you will, she’s a nice gal.”

Sam grins and adds sauce, “So she’s hot for Vance?”

“I think they have a chance.”

Naturally she picks up on the rhyme, does a mock laugh and slaps her elbow, “Knee slapper.”

“You’re a dipshit.”

“So what’s she like?”

“Well, she’s definitely a future mom, pretty down to earth and fun - more so than I’d thought.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not like us at all.”

This gets a wry grin. “At least I got to meet Noreen.” 

“Definitely.” Stopping by on her way out of town, almost a week ago, yes, these two blonds from another planet met up and Irene snapped a picture of the three of them, one for the books. Of course, the two hit it off instantly and it was a crazy twist to say the least.

By now they’ve pretty much finished their set, the plan is to sneak in a practice session this weekend. Nick barely notices her hop up and head down the hall, and he’s due for a pee so sets his guitar down to do that.

Thanksgiving had been uneventful but it’s never going to be the same up at Gramma June’s when they (almost) all pile in, seems to get harder every year but they press on. They also stopped in on the other gramma at the rest home and surprise her along with Steve and Debbie, along with the questionable hug that he tries not to enjoy. At one point he leans into Ned, 

“You and mom are too young to deal with this shit.”

“Nicky, you’re alllllright.”

Today started out with morning coffee with Nancy’s parents, who would be Ed and Gladys Beasley - basically an older version of Nancy and Dean, to the point where Nick had to fight the urge to grin, especially with three generations of gals seeming to watch him like a hawk. Then he and Ned each chilled out in their own space while Irene and the three generations plus an April hit the drag and caught a movie and such. They had even asked Bev Dawson but she needed to rest up after hosting yesterday.

After Nick picks up his guitar to work through some rough spots, Sam comes back in and pushes the door shut, then he looks up to find her in a robe and holding a pad of paper. 

“Here,” and hands him the pad, “grab a pencil.”

For some reason his neck hairs start to tingle. “Okayyy….”

The next time he looks over, she has dropped the robe and just sits there wistfully. “Draw me.”

Nick shuts his eyes in near exasperation and draws a breath.

And then she drops, the clincher, which echoes from a certain parsonage bathroom way back when, “Please.”

So he opens the notebook and sees there are already two versions, one signed DeeJay and another from April. “Ohhh, so it’s my turn.”

She just clears her throat.

Nick manages to make eye contact, “Are you sure?”

“Go. I’m cold, in case you couldn’t tell.”

He almost issues a vain threat but can’t muster it, she’s in charge. Right on cue, some part of his mind will make an unfortunate association between his pencil’s mostly-intact eraser and her nascent nubs that - by her account - indicate a chill, not that he’s going to look close enough to validate it.

“Alright.”

“Dude there’s nothing here you haven’t seen better of, just…draw, you pansy.”

Well, when she’s right she’s right. For a split second he tries to take refuge in knowing Deej can deal with her for this, but then, this is actually a privilege, albeit, a pretty damn uncomfortable one. 

So he glances up at her face and tries to do the rest from peripheral vision, starting with her hair, eyes brighter than usual tonight. This is definitely a rite of passage for their working relationship as collaborators and surrogate siblings.

The arms and torso are easy, but…yeah he’s generous with her bosoms and makes the U’s beneath the dots, but he has to try not to cringe at her well-defined ribcage, evidently from that condition early on, and she has splotchy pigment on her torso, poor thing. He has to pause a second to recall how expertly toned her sister is, but now is not the time; Deej can help redeem this soon, he hopes.

But one aspect he simply must ignore is the wee bit of patch peeking out even as she keeps her knees squeezed together (whew) - he struggles not to notice it’s a tad darker than her top mop, geez louise. But then, well, she does have fair pins and, hmm, pretty nice thighs like her sister, actually, so he gets to be honest here. She’s one of those gals with the peach fuzz on her legs, which we’ll just ignore for now, since, in the back of his mind, she’ll morph into punk-chick of sorts if she stays with music, the kind that wears skirts and tights to make a statement, and so yeah some decent muscle tone is just the ticket.

“Alright,” as he’s signing it with his initials, slightly concerned to put his name on it should it fall into questioning hands.

“Well, bring it over.” 

He doesn’t bother argue, just keeps facing away, takes a seat next to her and hands it over and stares the other way.

She says nothing, so after what seems like an hour he meets her eyes, never so joyful, then she pulls him in for a two-beat smooch.

Then she closes the book, sniffs some tears, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome dear. Now will you put that goddamn robe back on?”

Sam doubles over laughing then covers up, “Alright I’ll go change, can we watch something?”

It’s become customary to stretch out on the bed for silly TV, usually with her on her belly, head toward the foot of the bed and falling asleep halfway through. He’d been meaning to suggest Atari but she’s always tired by now.

“Yeah that can be arranged, dork.”

She giggles again and scampers off.

Nick locks the door and calls big sis for good measure, and as usual she has the phone handy.

“Hello?”

“Well, it seems I’ve joined the club…”

“Ummm…”

“Her drawing pad.”

“Wait….<shuffling>...”no way, she asked you to draw…”

“Full monty.”

All he hears is muffled laughter.

“We’re gonna watch TV, just thought you should know.”

“Okay, sorry - hmmm <cough cough> are we still on tomorrow?”

“Ready if you are.”

“Mmmmhmmm…go watch TV, us gals are watching crime and Grampa’s dozing off.”

“Enjoy your crime, love you.”

She whispers, “Love you, nite.”

Sweet Squeeze

Tuesday

Right on cue, Nick sits in Brenda’s chair in mid-morning and is increasingly convinced she’ll be mostly self-supported, at least for the near future, by lunchtime.

Yesterday he split between worlds and will do the same today, one way or another. 

For now, Miss Brenda sits next to him as the defrag runs, now that a bad file had been weeded out and corrected, evidently due to a power hiccup. It turns out she works for Walt Bowers Insurance, who represents a variety of insurers and annuity providers. So it’s a nice setup in a small brick building with the fancier molding decor and Walt’s office in the rear, next to another office for an accounting-type, who’s not in at the moment.

“So you can set it up so I just type something to do this, cleanup…thingy?”

“Yeap, once a week or so should be plenty, before lunch maybe.”

“Oh cool.” Brenda had already expressed her perceived inadequacy with computers several times by now.

Nick is still casing the joint. “So, Word Perfect and, any thing else?”

“That’s usually where I live, my predecessor was…well, older, and so she used that typewriter over there.”

Off on a corner shelf was probably a workhorse tank IBM Selectric beneath a cover. Nick can’t resist, 

“I’ll have to check that out.”

“Be our guest, I hate the <lowers voice> damn thing.”

Nick wonders why she lowered her voice since no one else is in earshot, but who knows, but picks it up, 

“Is this thing any better?”

“Actually I’m thankful, and I feel better about it now. How did you learn all this stuff?”

Nick pauses, “Let’s just say curiosity kills the cat.”

“Ohh kay?”

“Well, it kills at lot of time at least.”

“You’re funny. So have you talked to Vance lately?”

“Not since the golf day I think.”

“Oh yeah, I forget you guys don’t talk a lot.”

He grins, “Well you gals usually do that for us.”

She taps his arm, “Hey now.”

The phone rings and she takes some notes. Nick realizes he’d never seen her in pants, always in a knee-length skirt, which suits her well, very confident long-limbed packaging. After she hangs up she continues,

“Do you see that Curt very often?”

Nick pauses to muse at her phrasing. “Not really, haven’t run into him at campus but then I’m not there so much these days.”

“Well, the girls gave me a hard time for staring at him that night but I just couldn’t believe…that cocky, but I wanted…well, April seemed to need some answers and…”

Nick doesn’t want to weight in, just a knowing, “Mmmmmmhmmm.”

She pauses so he looks over and she’s studying him.

After a few eternal seconds he prods, “Yes?”

“Well - I don’t mean to be a gossip, but…I don’t know, I’m rambling.”

“You’re fine.”

“Nick - do you think I have a chance with Vance? Oh God that was lame -”

He cuts her off, “If he knows what’s good for him then yes you have a chance.”

Silence.

He looks over and she seems pleased. “Thank you, Nick, I believe you mean it.”

“Alright look…he had a shitty time growing up, that cramped apartment, he deserves a good chance.”

She pulls her chair closer. 

“A chance at what?”

Nick has to think. “Well, assuming you guys want the same thing…”

After a few breaths, “We’ve talked.”

Right then the defrag wraps up but he tries to stay on topic. After drawing a deep breath, “Well, good. That’s great, actually, and, all we really talked about was stupid shit, but…now that…well, seems he used to bring that up now and then, about marriage and kids, and I prollably changed the subject.”

“Prollably, huh? But that’s good to know.”

Nick acknowledges the defrag and exits it, then runs the defrag help command to see about building her a batch file.

“You seem to know all the secrets of this thing, I’m years behind.”

For once, Nick was ready, “Well, that phone call you just took, you wouldn't want to hear me do that, you’re so graceful.”

“Thanks, I try. Oh before I forget, how much do you need for this visit?”

Crap. Nick hadn’t really worked out a rate, but to base things on his salary at the school, which evens out around $12.50 an hour. At this point he was into a second hour and needed padding for the batch file, so,

“Is twenty-five ok?”

“Oh I’m sure it is, Walt’s in so we can get you a check.”

“Poifect.”

She giggles. 

Evidently the hope is to share a calendar among all office machines at some point, but Nick doesn’t propose anything yet, too much going on for the moment anyhow. Also at the moment, this feels really…well, cozy, they’re really hitting it off with a common sense of purpose.

But then, almost on cue, someone walks in as Nick is studying the screen and before he can look up, Brenda greets the visitor, 

“Mister Ted, got some juicy payroll for us?”

“Right here.” Nick recognizes the voice but keeps on typing, actually, he starts a dummy text file and types junk commands in it as his chest and ears start to warm up. He continues as she reaches behind him for an envelope or such.

“Well thank you sir.”

“Alrighty-dighty, see you in two weeks.”

After Ted leaves, Nick looks over at her with a wry grin.

She chuckles. “Umm, do you know him by chance?”

Nick sighs, then, “I think I, well, had to run him off a while back, he kind of interrupted a date.”

She laughs into her hands. “Hmmm…well I doubt he has many dates of his own to get interrupted.”

Nick just shakes his head and lets it float. 

“I think he recognized you, usually he sticks around.”

“You’re welcome.”

She laughs some more. “Want any more coffee?”

“Better not, it’ll make me nervous about Ted returning.”

“OHHHH my.”

Just before getting up to leave, Nick realizes that Brenda has stayed out of his field of vision most of the time, and that she tends to keep her chair a few inches behind his for whatever reason, not that she has any reason to be self conscious. She’s every bit as attractive as the other gals in their circle, actually similar height to Noreen with a nice build, straight sandy blond, greenish blue eyes, and usually wears a skirt and always well presented. But unlike what he’s used to, Brenda is simply not one bit nerdy about anything, confidently outgoing when the situation calls for it, like when she had April break the ice for this visit. But she’s got the traditional female sensibilities, actually, more like his mother, and for that matter, most mothers, and for that reason now life makes a bit more sense.

* * * * *

Nick wound up at the campus for the afternoon to tie up some ends, then came home to a quick shower before Deej got there for a stolen nap and to help with some leftovers.

After they moseyed upstairs she wants to check out a new curiosity he’d wired up in recent days: a compact, entry-level Uniden mobile CB with origins he can’t recall, but seems he’d grabbed it at a yard sale in recent years thinking it would be fun in the Cordoba then let it get buried, or actually, thought too hard about mobile antenna options and left it to future inspiration.

As it turns out that inspiration came in the form of rigging it to the antenna tuner to use the dipole array and see what happens. As he understands it there’s few specific laws on antennas (other than free-standing height) as long as the radio itself is FCC type-accepted (i.e. certified) and you don’t exceed the few allowed watts (i.e. four or five, depending on how measured…).

Leave it to Deej to find amusement in this, she hadn’t heard CB in years since her grandpa had one and wanted to hear truckers from the highway.

Nick kept warning, “Nineteen is usually all butts and elbows but we’ll see what we get.”

Actually, the road channel wasn’t terribly busy, but right away there’s a female voice, “Sweet Squeeze, channel 17.”

Deej is sitting there in her work outfit, one of endless combinations that never cease to amaze Nick as her wardrobe doesn’t seem that big, yet she shoots him a puzzled look, which hits him within a daze of her full-day of sweet musk.

Nick has a hunch, “She’s prollably at the truck stop…”

Her eyes dance for a second, then go really wide as she draws a breath, just as the radio pipes up, 

“Sweet Squeeze, gimme a hollar on 17”

Deej grabs the mic, “Hey fellas I hear Sweet Squeeze has a vein-er! So if ya really want a good time call Muffin Top on 21.”

Nick’s ears glow hot as the sun as she releases the mic and turns unimaginably red, shaking with silent laughter.

“Danielle!“ is all he can muster, just as Sweet Squeeze starts in,

“Honey I don’t know WHO the hell you are but I bet you can’t even sit on a bar stool yours is so loose…”

Nick peers at her in disbelief, “A VEIN-er?” 

Deej starts to fan herself and can’t seem to take full breaths. Nick gets up to crack a window.

Sweet Squeeze presses on, “Yeah you BETTER stay quiet - BITCH! Don’t let even me find you around….”

Unsure what else to do, Nick flips the dial up to 21, where it’s thankfully quiet. But alas, as if on autopilot, he grabs the mic,

“How boutcha there Muffin Top you sound pretty damn sexy,” in the dumbest drawl he can muster.

Not to be outdone, Deej pulls it together and grabs the mic, “Howout you come ‘round behind the Hideway and find out for yourself stud?”

At this point neither one of them can stay on a chair and slide onto the floor, heaving with guffaws, as we say.

Once they both start to calm down just a tad, the radio pipes up, a male voice, “Where’d ya go there Muffin Top, you sound like plenty a woman to go around there a-commown?”

Eventually she pleads Nick to help her to the bathroom before it’s too late. Given the circumstances he forgoes the urge to offer an eraser as a cork.

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.