The Cloud

 March 1981

"Well today we learn about Ahab and Jezebel..." starts Mrs. Alberta King, legendary Sunday School artist-in-residence, at a table shared with a motley assortment of four third-graders, separated by a wheeled chalkboard from the fourth-graders.

Nick thinks of the Ray Stevens classic Ahab the A-rab but doesn't bite, he'd already gone down that road with his mom and got lectured in the car, although Ned had even chimed in before she got upset. Across the table sits the reserved and shy visiting granddaughter of some regulars, the fair brown-haired April, who keeps her eyes on the teacher as much as possible. Not surprisingly, to her right gleams the equally un-shy Juan Marin who had already introduced himself to their visitor. In response, April blushed while still staring at the teacher, who had already made the expected observation, "it's almost your month, dear!"

Rounding out the group is another regular, Steve Guy, tall, lanky, big ears and sometimes brought his latest completed model car or airplane in to show off; a respectable hobby Nick could never remember to pick up among his usual preoccupations.

Today our hero settles into the usual routine of staring at the wall, and then the table, thankfully Betty's not one of those who craves eye contact to imply attention. The adults call their teacher Betty but this is a gray area for kids so Nick always avoided addressing her. 

He's not feeling the best, felt little swirls of chills ever since he got up and wanted to go back to bed more than usual this morning. While staring blindly between the coeds across the table he subconsciously wonders if April's concentration is deliberate or a shyness thing, when something stirred deep within, alas, something wanted out the back door.

This is an unusual dilemma in such a situation, hopefully just gas and nothing more, this is no time for theatrics, just...easy...easy...it floats on out and he nods down to sample the wares for good measure, should be nothing more than breakfast making its rounds.

The next breath proves otherwise. This is not good. Another breath. 

Have mercy.

His chills start to mingle with a bit of heat in the chest and ears. 

Just to gauge the room a little he casually glances back up at the same wall. April's face is slightly red again.

The aroma has gotten stronger after mixing with air, with a disturbing edge, a smoldering tire fire at the upwind side of town as the breeze picks up. After Nick takes a couple more disparaging breaths Betty pauses, then interjects,

"Does anyone need to use the restroom?"

After another pregnant pause, Jose pipes up, "I think someone already did, geez louise."

"Before I continue, does anyone have a...situation?"

April's face is deepening in hue, eyes are concerned, maybe fearful? Yet unwavering.

Jose, who shows up because he wants to and always by himself, "Mizz King we need to pray for whoever crapped 'em."

Nick can only put his forehead on the table and give in to laughter, he can hear Steve start to chuckle, and showing a new side, quickly throws in, 

"C'mon Nick did you do that?"

Without thinking, he blurts out "Well it sure ain't the new girl."

Betty steps in, probably a tad fazed at where this has gone, "BOYS! Is this any way to treat a visitor? Alright, if we can continue on..."

Like a pro, within a couple sentences she resumes the same cadence as the chuckles fade. Nick gets courage to glance up to survey April's face, nearly back to a normal tone but with an expression that echoes how badly they all just want to get out of here. Otherwise, he keeps his head down through the closing prayer.

In the service, just before the offering gets passed Nick spikes a fever and so they go home early, he spends the next two days home from school reflecting on it all and never brings it up. 

In coming weeks, after the high alert of the Hinkley shootings dies off a bit, he realizes that poor April's grandparents hadn't been around much ever since that fateful morning.

C'mowwwwn

June 1980

"Alright that's about enough of that you fuckers!" Tim taunts into the CB mic as Nick checks that no adults around as his ears get warm.

The response is a cacophony of the usual smack that greets young voices, "hey leave the radio alone and go play with your dollies," which is pretty much what prodded Tim to drop the big one in the first place.

He picks his moment to carry on, "Sorry I got a little rambunctious there," then turning on the swagger for a rehearsed line, "but you ain't got no maneuver, boy!"

That was a phrase the boys had worked out for this kind of situation, although Nick wasn't very comfortable with the Big Word, but then again at least his team had something to say on the local airwaves.

The same voice comes back, "what about that manure?" just as Tim hops out to catch someone on his bike.

Toward the end of the school year Nick had gotten wind that someone down the street was selling a CB for 15 bucks and begged for that to be his birthday. Irene quickly pointed out how he really needs clothes but that's more of a gift for herself in reality. Ned countered that he wouldn't mind having one in the Maverick. Nick countered that he wouldn't mind having one in his room with an antenna on the TV tower which got vetoed right away, not surprisingly. Didn't even make it to a committee review. 

In the back of his mind Nick felt they were probably right but he had to try. He walked with Ned a couple blocks down to the address they had on a piece of paper, to be greeted by some wiry gal with huge glasses and a lit cigarette who got her husband from the living room who was glad to make the sale on a sturdy 23-channel Johnson.

On the walk back Ned noted their base station antenna, "just watch it when you get on this thing, OK? you never know who's listening."

"Are we going to get a license?"

"Yeah I can send in the form, but...well, how about you let me use the call sign and you mostly listen for now, got it?"

Nick really wanted to use a call sign kinda like Paps but relented, "Okay." 

"Besides if you want your own call sign you gotta learn the Morse Code, you know that." Nick figured some day he will do that, but for now he just wants to play CB like on those Burt Reynolds movies he's really not supposed to watch on TV.

After patiently waiting for the next weekend Ned gradually started getting it set up in his work car, the orange '74 Maverick that Irene never liked to drive with the stick shift, although it seemed she was pretty good at it. He had an old bumper mount antenna lying behind the work bench that would do for starters.

Tim didn't really see the point at first but got interested after hearing female voices on there.

Ned had admonished them at the supper table, "Now remember it's not really for kids so if you hear anything bad I want you to turn it off. You should stay on Channel 14 since that's what walkie talkies use and those don't need a license. OH, and don't EVER tell anyone where we live, got it?" Something about this speech felt like it was mostly to make his mom feel better.

Finally his chance came to mess with it on his own without anyone hovering around. Ned had wired it so he wouldn't need the key in the ignition to mess with the CB, that was a condition, so that no one could come up and run off with him in the car and devastate his poor mother.

Nick starts out safe on 14 with a hail but no one comes back. Up on 19 there's some distant sounding chatter from the highway outside of town. Down on 4 there's someone calling himself "Mobile" - as in the city way down on the Gulf? Nick had heard the 'skip' signals on a walkie talkie before. He tries to reach Mobile but no response of course.

But then finally while turning the dial wheel he finds pretty strong activity on 16. The meter goes clear up into the red and it's an adult male voice "Tony the Tiiiger...Towwwnny Tiger, c'mown?"

"Tonytonytonytony got dem ears on? Come back this is Twoody-toucan Sam, commown."

Finally after a couple tedious minutes of this "yeah we gotcha there Sam, old lady was -" then a slight scuffling before a female voice takes over, "watch who you call old, you dumb shit!"

The original caller breaks in, "that you Momma Bear? How's that honey pot?"

"You wish you knew doncha Sam?"

"Awwww yeah darlin'!" Sam laughs it off then Tony comes back and they go on about work which evidently involves towing and pallet jacks. 

These folks are probably his parents' age or a little younger, seem to be free to say what they want. His mind was trained to wonder, do they go to church? They sound more like bikers or the kind that goes to bars and smoke and have tattoos; like certain other kid's parents that his own parents don't really want him to be around.

As Nick processes all this he figures these characters must have the base antennas on their houses and 16 must be where they hang out.

And evidently he forgot to lock the car door since this is when Tim shows up.

I am Inigo Montoya

 Monday Morning

Well no one can say the office is without decor. 

Yesterday's practice was, in a word, interesting, typically surreal for one of their adventures and mainly due to the sense Nick had that they were on to something with the old Zepp number.

He showed up with his acoustic and of course she had been at her bass and little 20 watt amp probably since first of daylight and had a makeshift chord chart set up on the little ottoman in front of an old wooden folding chair.

"Thought you'd be groggy enough to want to sit for a while, but stand if you want, makes no nevermind to me, dear."

After a squeeze and brief inspection his demeanor she's too geeked to leave the bass alone and starts in before he can get set up but it's good to hear it some first. Gradually he finds a chord here and there and it takes shape. It doesn't seem to sound like the record but with her driving it, hey, hey, what can ya do, this might just work.

When she seems to go into some kind of endgame he pipes up, "isn't there some kind of motion with some of the chords?"

"Wing it." Doesn't even look his way and starts back in.

This continues about half an hour till they break for TV and sammiches but she pretends to be resistant to any advances, not that he's up to it. The vibe seems to be understood that this is a season of less carnal forms of bonding.

At some point he mentions the machine message from Deej that he hasn't had a chance to return yet.

"Isn't she at that school over in Misery?"

"Heh, yeah, Astigal...when we met up I referred to to it as Ass Tickle and she didn't seem to appreciate it."

This earns a snicker, "Well she may have a lot of reverence for the place."

"I guess....just kinda funny, she is a free spirit in a lot of ways, but her family was always pretty committed."

"You mean...."

"Church, church school, churchy stuff."

"Gotcha." And takes a bite. "Well, a lot of folks tend to stay in their mold. You are a special case Swanson, you broke through, and look what it got you."

He just grins and looks her way.

"What?"

After a pause, "I'm looking at what it got me."

"OH," and she hops up, "Close your eyes, fool, time to stretch your mind."

He complies, "alright lady but not sure my mind is very flexible at this point."

After a moment Nick feels a whiff of something in front of him, "okay."

She's holding a small, unframed painting of a beach scene, blue wave approaching from the left and a man in some kind of medieval garb confronting the wave with a sword.

After a healthy stare he offers, "Interesting."

"Yeah yeah, have you ever seen Princess Bride?"

"Oh, yeah back in high school but I couldn't really follow it, seemed kinda nutty."

"I'll bring it over some time and for a refresher, your folks might like it too, but that....him...I was thinking of the...um, the Spaniard...I am Inigo Montoya...you killed my father...prepare to DIE!".

"Yeah I'll need a refresher."

"Ain't that the truth. Anyway, one morning I woke up thinking, what if the sea had taken his father...how do you take vengeance in that situation."

Nick is given pause, raises both eyebrows to a degree. "Dayamm."

"And there ya go, sport. Why don't you take this with you?"

"I have some wall space above my desk between the shelves."

She pecks his cheek then hops up to wrap it in some plastic.

And so around 17 hours later Nick starts his week by pounding in some nails from the garage with a borrowed hammer, bottom pair at a downward angle then top pair at an upward angle to secure it just as Goody appears in the doorway.

"Decorating, Young Jedi? Glad you feel better already."

"Got an original work here, she hopes it will inspire my thoughts."

"Well hope springs eternal. Lessee....wow, not bad, pretty talented gal, she must see you as a blank canvas," as he expertly ducks away.

Wanna Do A Song?

Saturday

Sometimes the evening reruns are in the same slot as the weekday, and that's pretty much been the case since they brought M*A*S*H out of the vault along with the complete series on VHS in case you have a spare closet to store all the seasons.

Hawkeye is counseling Radar when the phone rings, Nick answers in his room since he has an idea.

"So you're alive?"

"Yeah better just not motivated." He had done some desk stuff earlier to the tune of several code conversations that faded in and out, copied some but mostly had it on for company. Finally won his fourth hand of solitaire and messed with the modem some.”

"It's the weekend babe. Were you watching Simpsons?"

"M*A*S*H."

"Oh I always forget those are back on, my parents never missed, man I was a senior when they did the big ending, that's all we talked about."

"I remember them pulling down tents I think."

"Probably not as big of a deal in, what, sixth?"

"Was more into Happy Days."

"Oh yeah, (tauntingly) Jenn-nny Picc-a-lo."

"Bill-lee Aye-dolll."

"Oh bite it Swanson."

"Bear it."

"Be a good boy and rest up and we'll see..."

"Actually..."

Pauses. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, just seems...dunno..." and she waits patiently for him to collect his thoughts. He sighs. "I have access to such great....you know."

"Ummm..."

"Like this past week, we totally did it all."

"Well, not...all."

"Yeah not technically, but it seems, I dunno, I have it too good, if that makes sense."

Longer pause. "You just made my day sweetie."

Nick didn't know what to say so just let it float.

She sighs. "Nick...we've each had some rough patches, time in the wilderness -"

"I know."

"Sometimes it's like this, but the future is uncertain, I'll be busier in coming months, you may be too, we'll have to plan our time...are you thinking of teaching?"

"Actually more tempted to do more student-ing."

"Wow, great, which degree?"

"Prolly comp sci."

"God you're a nerd."

"You teach Chaucer."

"You know the drill, pick a cheek and pucker, sucker."

"Howbout just that for half an hour."

"You are killing me. I'd settle for just a quiet bath."

"Like that one night?"

"Umm, no, that was a LOUD bath  - AHEM - nice as that was..."

"And jazz."

"And jazz."

"We need a project."

"You know I think we do."

"Wanna do a song?"

"Funny you should say that..."

"Should I laugh?"

"Just look in the mirror. Alright, ever heard that Zeppelin, it's about, lemme try - " Clears her throat, "I SAID I GOT A LITTLE WOMAN AND SHE WON'T BE TRUE," with a decent falsetto, not that Nick knows that word yet.

He has to set the phone on the bed until he can stop laughing.

"You there? You ballentine PRICK are you LAUGHING?" She switches to Cockney, "I'll slit yew up a treat f'this!"

"Oh honey..."

"Honey my other cheek, do you know that one or you yankin' my wank?"

"OH yeah, rock radio played the hell out of it a couple years ago, box set extra track I think. And I thought you weren’t into Led Zepp."

"Did I say that? Must have been a mood, but I love to sing like Plant. So if you can keep your hands out of your pants I can show you the chords and I'll play bass."

"Or teach me the bass part."

Silence.

"OK I better learn the chords."

"Yes you better."

"And you'll learn the words."

"You know what, I think you got a little TOO much rest the past couple days."

"Wanna make some music tomorrow?"

"Call me in the morning."

"I'd rather call you Sweet Cheeks."

"Howbout this - we each soak tonight with some jazz?"

"I think that can be arranged."

"Just watch out for tadpoles."

"Hey how'd you know about-"

"Gunnite, love you." And like a pro she doesn't give him any more chances.

He gets his soak in before SNL starts and digs out his acoustic to try and warm up the hands.

Sick Day

Friday

Nick lies on a blanket on Irene's recliner after moving from his bed and fixing some cheesy eggs for lunch.

He had felt a tad drained after last night's escapade (who wouldn't) but then figured a shower and night’s sleep (by that point well assured) would do their usual magic, but this morning was still sluggish and by the time he got to the tech building door Sue happened to be right there.

"Morning pardner, you....ummm...gonna make it?

"Actually not so sure."

"Well then GO HOME, I'll tell your cohorts down there, see you Monday, if you can."

"Thanks, chief," and then pivots on a dime without giving it another thought.

After a trip back that seemed much, much longer than the one he'd just made he has the house to himself left with random thoughts as consciousness comes and goes.

First of all he should have realized yesterday was a setup, as his interest in carnal delights tends to peak just as an infection is setting in, it had always been that way, seems the most vivid scenes would play out just before the head would shut down and the body longs for not moving.

He had put off bathroom visits as long as possible, trying to let the micronaps do their magic. Sooner or later they always do.

Back in junior high he was also home alone with this kind of crud and spent the afternoon listening to some preacher interviewed on one of the big AM stations about explicit rock lyrics, he was a child of the 60s and loved the innocent stuff of that era, but still a good Baptist, and Nick eventually shut off the radio, went for a washcloth and thought about girls from school. 

For some reason he had been wondering if they would get a dishwasher in the kitchen, since Irene is thinking of going back to teaching. There's probably nothing in that one cabinet that can't go somewhere else, either Goodwill or another space, he can think of stuff like the old meat grinder that hasn't seen use since he used to put slices of bread in there only to grind them to crumbs and call it 'pies'.

At one point he sleeps really good and dreams about words on a computer monitor, maybe some kind of programming code.

Invasion of the Booty Snappers: aliens land and nail everyone in the ass with towels. Yeahhh.

He realizes he had spent a good part of last spring being afraid to see Noreen's feet for the first time, just, since she was a bit older, is the best way to try and say it. Sometimes he gets a weird heebie jeeb about feet stuff, but then realized when they finally got together in the jeep that day he didn't give it a second thought, she has cute bony feet, kinda long as you'd expect to keep her height from blowing over. This makes Nick chuckle.

Seems she's been doing a bit of grooming in the ol' garden lately, when he reaches for some morning dew there's less tangle, maybe that's the point. God it's nice to feel around down there and make her squirm.

It's starting to sound like a good idea to finish soldering up his RTTY circuit during downtime at work, seems it's better to look busy, well, BE busy than just wait for something to happen. 

Nick has been listening to the rig off and on still but is nervous about getting on the air, Paps always said that's natural, gotta be a first time for everything.

His first time with a woman seems like an eternity ago, a different lifetime. She was pretty hairy down there but she was pretty eager so she spread things out and boy was she ready that night, he pictured an IR camera, just glowing. Sometimes he wonders how she is doing, good ol’ Rosetta, now gone without a trace but the probably needed to start over and hopefully he helped in some way.

A few times he's listened to the contests, they really fly with the Morse code but after a while you can pick up on the pattern, sometimes they have a sequential number but sometimes it's their first name, then the TU, thank you? And then some of the contesters go slower and do a 73, which is hard to miss at any speed. That repetition must be key to it, you know what to expect and then can ask for a repeat if you miss it or the signal fades momentarily.

What he hasn't consciously admitted is wondering if they should be living together soon, or how he would bring up the subject, or if she would, or if her brother would come get him with a shotgun and make it easier to bring up. Even though it's only been a few weeks they are settling into a good groove; Ned has a daughter type around that he never had and Irene sort of has a little sister that she also never had.

Noreen has a standing invite to stay in Tim's old room and she wants to hang out here more often once school gets into a rhythm. Nick can't picture them living in her cabin, as cozy as it is, they would have to bounce back and forth. 

The comfort level seems to be that they don't actually sleep together in their normal space, but once in a while is OK. His parents respect their privacy but nobody is fooled, seems everything is going to some sort of plan and she can't conceive so it's all good.

But still, they can't go on living like teenagers forever. He would want a place for radios, there's no reason his bench would go away anytime soon. Goody has even hinted he could wire up stuff on the roof and maybe start a school club. 

For some reason this dude comes to mind who Nick had tried to avoid at first in the building, back around his second term there was a rough-hewn stocky fellow, unforgettably bold facial features, thick brown hair down to the neck, around 40 and just had a way of really sticking out. In time he realized this fellow was a top student named John and gradually started dressing more professionally, but there was still that blackhead. Nick's eidetic memory wouldn't let it go, the thing on the side of John's nose must have been close to an eighth-inch diameter, how much trouble would it cause to sneak up on John with a desoldering tool and get that sucker out? 

But then what would he do with it? He'd have to plan to run into the bathroom then not be able to look at it then just have to toss a perfectly good desolderer. One day all that hit him about the same time as some stupid toe jam heebie jeeb and he almost had to go walk around outside to recover.

As for the RTTY, old Baudot teletype that he had come to know and love, is still the main squeeze on the air, but now, not surprisingly, they were slinging around ASCII that had the full character set as a computer plus upper and lower case. So recently he had been decoding a bit of that here and there, mostly from the bulletin transmissions that are a repeat of the Baudot version but with prettier casing and without need for the converter class for five-bit Baudot to 8-bit ASCII since the latter is native to the PC.

It seems once he got his license he would have to try a bit of this on the air, at least on the highest band in his privileges, if he hears someone, great, if not, all the more reason to upgrade his license, and he wouldn't even have to wait for the FCC for an upgrade since you can use your certificate as a temporary authorization.

Nick had been saving money but a lot of it goes into the 'Doba, especially with two or three trips a week out to see his wonder blond. Might be time to think about something smaller, maybe front wheel drive to dig out of snow easier, unlike that time he got shoved into a ditch on a side road that time and had to knock on someone's door to call a tow truck then have the driver follow him to an ATM to fetch 35 clams.

Well one or more of his folks should be here soon so best vacate the chair and not give them reason to avoid it, the protocol is to quarantine upstairs but he put the blanket down so it should be OK. Nick finds the Sunday paper in the basket with the car ads, it's something to do at least.

As soon as he gets settled in upstairs, and after a good pee, the phone rings, said wonder blond.

"Oh sweetie did I make you sick?"

"Can't complain considering."

"Oh you sound awful. Can I stop over?"

"Like I'm gonna turn that down, just gonna look at some car ads."

"What?"

"Yeah might be time to downsize, you know, the old, well, not old gal-"

"Oh is it the gas?"

"Yeah..."

"Hmm....let me talk to my siblings before you make any decisions, kay?" 

He remembers how Bart always has his eye on it. "Ahh yeah, I think I smell what yer steppin in."

"Well I've been wanting something better too so you might end up with my Celeca for nothing if we play our cards right - WINK WINK."

"Well get your sweet hiney over here maybe we can play cards for reals."

"I'll bring you some soup."

"That sounds lovely,  not sure when the rents get back but they may skip out on us once they find out I'm like this."

"I have been meaning to call your Mom so if you need to rest more we can catch up, just lie there and I'll see you soon."

"Be careful."

So he hangs up and realizes that talking took his mind away again. He tries to lie on one side but something in his head burns like a stray ember, the other side won't work, he doubles up his pillows and that does the trick, usually the answer for sinus issues.

This election, anyone's guess, the old guard and this southern dude from little ol' Arkansas. He gets the feeling Bush doesn't really want the job anymore. The student groups are all about debates and getting folks to vote, which is great, but Nick can't really get exited one way or another. Ned has been listening to the afternoon talk radio where that guy bellows out about the difference between liberals and conservatives, is it all really that cut and dry, two camps?

Nick can't see himself in any group like that, especially after getting away from the Evangelical world. This Clinton has been on the late night shows and even played sax, he has to wonder, were earlier presidents on Carson over the years or just in the stodgy 60 Minutes or Barbara Walters kind of interviews?

Noreen says some gals find Clinton sexy, daring, maybe a bit unpredictable and that could threaten a lot of folks with the older values.

Eventually he recovers from the trek upstairs and turns on his light to look at some car ads. He had always wanted a stick shift, her Celica is automatic but it's been well maintained of course and it would pretty much come with a lifetime labor warranty. 

His head gets heavy once again so out goes the light, he enjoys the haze in the silent darkness, this house really is cozy, who knows how much longer he will actually live here, that seems uncertain but then there has never been a year like this.

What kind of ride is she wanting, something a couple years old to make payments now that she has a steady gig? It's probable there's a near complete rebuild in the shop with fresh paint and a low mileage power plant from a wreck and it just so happens she was going to swap that out for the Celica. Yeah, that's it. Seems there was a pickup sitting out for sale that made sense to rebuild and it seems the shop is licensed to scrap wrecks; if you do that kinda thing a lot it would be almost self-sustaining. Hmm.

Ned probably wouldn't have too much to say about trading the old fellow, it had served him well and they hadn't put much money into it, just some work like resealing the massive heads that time over Christmas break and geek out over using a torque wrench. A $1,500 car with 70k miles is still worth about that much two and a half years later with 96k.

Next thing he knows it's the doorbell, takes two rings to get him cognizant, we need to get her a key. He slowly gets up to let her in. 

He has to pee again; she'll understand.

Ambushed

Thurs Sep 24, 1992

Nick steps out front of the Tech Building shortly after settling in and then re-locking his office. Nothing and no one yet needed his attention so he took a walk around then for some reason headed out into the cool morning with wispy clouds. Some of the trees had started to turn, mostly in the distance. Now that the term has started he wants to be here about the same time as the earliest faculty and before most if any students. It's just nice to be the first, always had been, even back in grade school.

Out of the corner of his eye there's motion, and right away it's unmistakable, even from most of a football field there's that familiar gate, his gal, hunched over with two bags with determination to face the day even through two armies and a shit creek. She's wearing a plaid skirt and beige top and always seems much shorter than 5-7 in this state, she does tend to slouch a bit at times as it were. Smartly she's got on sneakers and must have office shoes somewhere in that luggage. 

Now, it's stricken him at times how he wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd as someone he'd get to know, a fine woman for sure, one that most fellows would call "alright", but to Nick she's secondarily a babe, primarily, it's her woman-ness, a mature feminine, like the actress that gets cast for a thoughtful, capable role you can set your watch by, maybe a Meryl Streep. You don't get overwhelmed by the visuals but if you're lucky you're in tune with the vibe, her needs, and that's where the trouble starts, bruddah.

Once she's out of view he heads back inside and takes the long way round for a peek at the robotics lab. He's talked to Glen Reeves a few times over the years but hasn't yet been brought in on any of the wiring, seems they still have a tape-punch rigged up to the mainframe as a printer of sorts to program the old CNC tools therein.

Nick sits back at his desk and tries to find something to fidget with besides a catalog or solitaire. Noreen just happens as she always does. Later on he'll go to her place and they'll be food and she'll probably take initiative for some sort of dessert. Something stirs. 

Wait a minute. Just because she's more mature in years and life doesn't mean she always gets to start trouble.

This takes on a life of its own as he writes his first name in cursive on the wooden veneer desk as he does with his fingernail, with an emphasis on making the letters diagonally to the upper right, he's right handed, with a curly thing to dot the little “i”.

It feels like someone will suddenly appear at his door but no one does. The phone might ring, but it doesn't. He goes up front to check for mail, there's none in his box. Seems Brian used to always have something going on but maybe it was just the way it appeared; the preoccupation was just in keeping occupied and trying to avoid pointless complications, pointless conversations.

He could stop in on the mainframe guys but it seems weird if he doesn't have a reason. He stops in on Goody and plops in the guest chair.

"Whaddaya know bucko?" Goody looks up. "Seems we should have our tickets within a month now."

"Yeah, that'll be nice. Been listening to more code here and there, those contests are crazy."

"Well it's all yours -"

About then King walks in with a question that doesn't involve Nick so he just sits there and tries not to think about what he's thinking about. Then the light comes on.

After King leaves, "Think it's alright if I bug out a little early?"

"Sure, kinda doubt anything would prevent that. Big plans?"

Nick struggles to find the words. "Well, just thought I'd surprise someone."

Goody catches on and grins, "Ahhh, roger roger, have a great time."

Back in his office Nick feels like he may have given up too much of the plot, or else be over thinking something, but as long as he can get there just before she does, well...

Evidently it's the norm to do a lot of waiting in this role, all the preparation is during the off-season, as it were, then it's pretty dry. As a student there was always something that needed done. 

At one point he hits the locker-room head and thinks back to the Whicker caper. The things you get away with as a student, just another patron of the institution, how going pro changes the physics, but man, that was some good game there, crazy stunt like that for a sophisticated gal, albeit, with a pretty crazy side of her own.

He's alone in there at a urinal and can take his time, squeezes the base of it a bit as if to make sure things are ready for later. It's never been like in those dirty magazines where it points up, just kinda bobs around at best when it wants attention, but seems to do the job when the moment's right. The door opens so now he has to pee through this bobbing monster and try to finish up as though he'd just gotten started.

For lunch he purposefully sneaks over to the crowded snack bar and grabs a to-go to enjoy at his desk, she might be at the cafeteria, or maybe at her desk, but this is safest.

Instead of the usual phone tag she catches him, "How's your day going?"

"It's bearable. Thinking I need to find a hobby."

"Oh really."

"Is the term taking shape?"

"Yeah I think so, I should have permanent rooms next week, and you know how things thin out...."

"Hopefully we get left with the good ones."

"One can hope. You coming out tonight?"

"Thought about it."

"Well I could use a neck rub, and I think Sandy is making a bunch of stuff we can mooch."

"Mooching works." He tries not to grin and just sound kinda out of it. Neck rub, eh?

"OK, you sound tired, everything OK?"

"Yeah I'll catch you up on the family stuff."

"Oh, yeah, well I'll get home around 5:30."

"Sounds good hon. Be careful."

"I will, you too, behave." He can hear the smile in her voice and good ole Bugs comes to mind, 

"BYEEE-EEEE"

By 4:45 the building is near desolate save the night class folks, just lectures tonight so no surprises. Nick carefully makes it to the 'Doba along a vector that should keep him hidden in case she's up to an early egress as well but no sign of her, or her car, but this still feels like the inner track.

On the way out he remembers where she keeps a spare key behind some tree bark and ponders where he could park out of the way and sneak in, but then that would feel pretty weird; he's never been in the cabin without her and it would seem rather intrusive, even at this stage. 

He thinks back to the Def Lep show when they played Make Love...Like A Man...

After a drive that seems longer than usual he pulls into the drive and can't decide exactly where to go, so he just parks in the normal spot, shuts it off, and right then there's the tow truck bringing in some business so he gets out.

Bart yells "HEY DUUUDE" out the window and stops to BS for a minute, after which, yes, she pulls in.

Bart waves and pulls on to the inner sanctum and Nick gets ready to carry her bags in. 

She parks and steps out, "Well well now." He gives her a squeeze, especially around the waist. She says nothing more.

"You got stuff to carry?"

"Just me."

So he scoops her up and nudges her car door shut, sets her down so she can let them in. 

Once inside he makes sure it's locked, and starts nibbling and licking wherever he can.

"Sweetie at least let me freshen up."

Nick just scoops her up again and plops her on her bed and gets on top of her.

After a bit more of the same, just horizontally, she squeaks out, "What do you want?" 

"I want you," Nick offers, keeping a rhythm. At this point he's felt just about everywhere at least once.

"What...do...you...want," emphasizing each syllable this time.

"Pussy."

Her breathing gets a bit erratic. "You keep this up you're gonna blow my fucking mind."

This brings to bear some images he doesn't like, just the way it goes sometimes, but he just pulls her skirt off then starts unbuttoning her top, she finishes the buttons and he loses his pants.

At one point he gives her a decent bite on the cheek then, realizes she's wearing the full wrap-around pantyhose that she would have gotten free from had he tarried, so he just pulls them up, finds her amply ready, pulls himself out of his shorts and gently slides home.

She grunts and nearly stops breathing, so he starts the chug, those fine legs on each flank, she smells wonderful, like a full day that he caught off guard, and then, the phone rings, she just grabs his shoulders almost painfully.

"Don't stop...don't...ever...stop..."

He keeps up the pace as she writhes about, his capture, her bra is still on, 

"Show me your tits."

She fumbles to pull her bra away from its bounty, they jiggle just enough and he gobbles them whole.

The machine picks up in the next room, sounds like Sandy's voice.

"Oh baby give it to me, harder,", she bites her lip and he chugs harder, actually worrying she will bite through her own lip at first but it gets the best of him, it's closer, 

"Fffffffffff...fffffuuuu...ffuucccck..." as she flops around, and he feels a warm flow, remembering he hadn't given her a chance to go to the bathroom, so there it is, this is too much, and he joins the flow heartily, but, alas, she's wilted lettuce. Elvis has left the building.

Well this is awkward. Nick has to fight off the sense this is a violation, how can she get so lost before the cannon goes off? Had he really worked himself out of a job? 

What a mess, he surely didn't mean to do this to her bed. After contemplating, he slips up and finds a clean bath towel, hell, make it two, cleans himself then carefully lifts her seemingly burlesque-outfitted middle to get one beneath her then tries to towel off what he can. No use redressing her, she has drifted off to who knows where, not a care in the world, nips still alert, but maybe she's cold. This is almost a disaster, he grabs the afghan from the couch and covers her up, trying not to get their fluids on it. Will she be mad when she wakes up? 

Embarrassed?

Nick tries to lie next to her, unsure if for his comfort or hers, but she's in the middle of a twin bed and he doesn't want to make her move. Several eternal minutes pass by. He's too aware. 

Finally he goes out to play the message on the machine, Sandy says whenever they want to come over for sups, beans and ham tonight and corn bread. 

He strains to remember the number to their house and Sandy picks up, he asks if he can do a to-go order since Noreen is pretty tired from the day, and of course that's fine, he's a sweetie for doing that, she'll have it ready. 

Back in the bedroom he pecks her forehead gently as a test, she barely stirs, so he trousers up and sneaks over to grab the grub, comes back to find her in the same state. He sets dinner in the oven and lies next to her, she scoots over and draws a breath in the darkness.

"Sweetie."

"Yes dear?"

"What....what brought this on?" He can hear a smile forming, he kisses it.

She persists, "Nick, seriously."

"I was standing out front and saw you across the courtyard this morning."

"Is that....so, now. And?"

"That's it."

She inhales deeply again, and in a throaty timbre, "I'll have to walk that way more often..."

"Was it like the fair?"

"Hmmm," with a guttural growl, then eventually, "that sent me to the moon, this was like...Mars."

"Well I got some venus for sure."

"God you're an asshole," through an obvious smile, but before Nick can think of a zinger, "we need to get cleaned up for dinner, you'll have to carry me again."

"Dinner's sitting in the oven."

"What? How?"

"Told Sandy you were tired and she was glad to wrap some up."

"Oh, Nick...."

"That's me."

"Sorry I pissed everywhere."

"Well I didn't really give you a choice."

"Am I complaining?"

He leans in and they snog a bit, then he slowly helps her to the bathroom, where she checks the mirror with one eye,

"Good lord! I'm right out of Rocky Horror Picture Show - just for this you're renting it and we're watching it, you daft...TURD!"

Then they shower, find The Simpsons on a new evening lineup and have a wonderful supper.

Sister Act

Weds Sept 23, 1992

7:42 am finds our hero looking down at his lap. This manure-brown cloth-covered five wheel swivel-ly chair has had a lot of asses in it, now his average-build slightly slender sit-upon occupies it. There would have to be some kind of upholstery cleaner in the supply closet and why didn't he think sooner to give it a good douse on a Friday then use the shop's shop vac to move HIS ass to the top of the list. But then, for all he knows he might get to inherit a better chair and then have to start over. 

To come to terms with all this he gets up and roams the building. Seems so formal with all the lights on, stage is set, ready for company. A few folks who got a good parking space are in the lobby areas, as he once was, staring into space or getting a head start on a textbook. One of them is zoned out with walkman headphones on turned up loud enough to clearly hear from a few yards away.

Goody and Norm are jawing in the hallway, they all have on their nametags.

"Well Nicko if nothing breaks today it won't be a first but stay ready, especially the 6809 stuff."

This was the second year using Gateway 486-DX25 in the small microprocessor lab, and these are finicky enough to go way into left field from time to time. Brian had set up a security scheme and even used special characters from the Greek alphabet as a user name, fun act to follow, so this was going to be the weakest link this term with the micro fundamentals class running simulations until they get their wirewound-pole interface boards ready to plug into a real deal 6809 on the lab’s center island. Worst case is someone would have to double up (or double-double up if they're already teamed) while Nick tries to untie some knots in DOS.

So he heads back to his office to, dunno, fire up some solitaire until it's time for the round of introductions in each class, will be fun to see if the instructors will have any new zingers ready. On the way through the scope lab he gets a warm chest whenever seeing one of those Gateway moocow boxes storing stuff here and there, he's hoping to score one next time they get a new system in, maybe when they refresh the PC lab down the hall, who knows.

The morning goes as planned and he's relived there aren't any female students that would prove, well, distracting, throwing a vibe, that gets so old when it's unwelcome. There's only one female and she seems to be a collected, thoughtful mom type, all business but mostly cool, almost a junior Sue.

At one point King G asks him to check on something with the computer lab and he finds Alan and Jeff at one of their desks looking at a a screen. Nick just stands there at first to assess the situation.

"Atttennnn-HUT"

Finally Alan looks up, "Hey man what can we do for you?"

"The usual, GK wanted me to make sure we're all set for the 223 group."

"Ahh, yes, got his list right here, want my notes?"

"Sherbert. Put it on my tab."

"Right ohh....OHHH did you see that strawberry blond in the OA group?" Office administration surely attracts the ladies, although, seems the dental hygiene group gets the finest, if you're into that kind of thing.

"Tight curls? maybe, those zoo parades they bring through all run together after a while."

"Yeah that's the one, too bad they won't be doing anything on the frame this quarter."

"Come to think of it, I think i did hear her say she was hoping some stud could reset her password soon." Nick has to hold his expression, he doesn't know where that came from, maybe a normally recessive gene of his brother's ilk suddenly woke up. Jeff busts up laughing but Alan just covers his heart.

"Dude!"

Nick just grins, "Alright gents, later days, thanks for the good word."

So he heads back to his cubbyhole and feels half vindicated and the rest is kinda like, as a kid, when he'd stepped on a cricket and immediately regretted it. He doesn't like to inflict harm but when that little shit likes to eye the ladies but never has a girlfriend, well...anyway. 

He takes his seat and tries to find something on which to focus, but nothing needs done, computer games are stupid, and he'll want to grab lunch in a bit but no longer feels comfortable leaving his office unlocked as he has been. This is the first time he's thought about it, hell, if any of the faculty need something they have a key, not that anyone would do anything harmful but why tempt it?

Just the thought of taking a sip of coffee and finding it tasting like washroom soap would be a loss, not that he wants to go on the offensive, just, crap, who knows, this is just weird. In this gig you spend all summer getting part of the school ready for school and once school is in session you have to share the space, so maybe there's still some sanctity to be had, but, just scaled down. He could always lunch in his office with the doors closed but then someone could knock, might be Noreen but then might not and he'd have to see what's what.

Speaking of Noreen, he tries calling her, lets it ring the three times before the assistant picks up then forgets it. This being the first day it's a good idea to sit with his department and stay in the loop, at least today, for solidarity until things get into a rhythm, so when they get ready to head over he locks up and goes with, and they manage to find seats and Nick grabs the last fish sammich that looked lonely there by itself beneath the heat lamp.

Once they sit down Nick can't resist, "So those heat lamps to keep the sammiches warm, do those emit enough UV to be a cancer risk?"

The instructors look at each him, then each other, Norm finally speaks up, "Better keep sunscreen handy before you reach next time."'

GK gets serious, "Pretty sure those are so red they won't have hardly any violet, the idea is heat, not killing germs."

"What if I want a germ-free bun?"

Goody: "Ask for some Lysol."

And so it goes.

The afternoon set goes as planned, 2 introductions at 1, nothing at 2 so he chills for a bit. Right before the lab starts at 3 he thinks to check for mail, might be a catalog, and finds two messages, one from Noreen, one from his dad to call him at work. The second of those can't wait, he asks GK if he can have a few mins and that's fine of course.

Ned is at his desk. "Hey, sorry to bother you."

"No problem, should I be scared?"

"Just know your mother is very upset and may not be feeling up to cooking, or well, even eating much."

"Is she okay?" Nick realizes this is a dumb question, then adds, "I mean -"

"Well, she got a call from Betty Parish, not sure you ever met her, she's one of the long-timers at Faith."

"Ooh, something at your church?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." Nick can't imagine what would top what they'd already gone through.

"It would have to be."

"Pastor ran off with someone, a very...young...someone." 

Nick pauses again. "Ouch."

"Yeah, midlife crisis or just closet scumbag, I don't know what's up these days."

Nick just figures that stuff was just hushed up in the past, but that's not important right now. "Should I call mom?" 

"I offered to stay home today but I think she just needs to be alone. I will probably order a pizza tonight, we'll get her favorite in case she wants some. Are you going to be home?"

"I had planned on it, but Noreen left me a message too, I haven't talked to her today."

"Ok, whatever you do just - and I know you will, but - try to be supportive, know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"I know you do, alright, tell that rotten boss of yours to make me some good recruits for once, see you in a bit."

"Will do thanks Dad."

Nick hangs up, stares into space for a second, but needs to move, so he heads out his right-hand door into the back of King's lab to practice his fly on the wall until needed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He arrives home just after 5:30 to find Irene in her bathrobe picking at a slice of "sausage mushrooms peppers light sauce" from Needle Bend Drive Through (open 24 hours for your convenience). Nick has rarely seen her in this shape and puts a peck on her forehead.

"Sweetie you could have done something with your gal."

"I didn't get a hold of her till I was ready to leave, they're doing a cookout but we agreed I should come home tonight."

"She's a good lady. Remind me what she sees in you?"

Nick sticks his tongue out and grabs a plate to nuke-wake a couple slices. 

"How was the first day?"

"Predictable. Stuff will need to break another day."

"That's the spirit. I'm tired of things breaking."

"I know, I'm sorry mom."

"It's the world, Nicky. Tell me more about your day."

"Not much to tell, I met the new gang and realized the need to lock my office more."

"Did something happen?"

"No, just..."

"Yeah it's not an empty building anymore."

"Nope, enrollments are right where they hope and projecting more."

"That's good."

"OH, Noreen says she wants to get lunch with you sometime, guess she wants to talk about your favorite son."

She leans in studiously, "and what's Timmy got to do with it?"

"Yeah yeah, don't quit yer day job."

"I'll be here all week."

"You should get out of the house, go visit Gramma."

"I need to, but I sure don't want to see the house when I return."

"Oh I'm sure Dad and I would get it mostly straightened up right before you get back."

"Mmmhmmm, there would be no right about it." She stares into space.

"Wanna see a movie?"

She just stares at him. "Nick, seriously? That would be nice. What's playing."

"Might be able to find Wayne's World somewhere."

"Howbout that Whoopie Goldberg, the nuns..."

"Sister Act?"

"Sister Act!"

Sister Act – since he was rather preoccupied the other time he’d been exposed to it.

Ned stays home and falls asleep watching Sports Center.