Rolling

Nov 29 1992

Alright you…

I woke up and had to pee and I could tell you were sawing logs so I wanted to tell you this way how perfect tonight was. I think you know it’s been crazy these past weeks, DUH you’ve been living it with me HA but Nicky this, well, I think I needed to take a step and I hope you were ready for that step. Also I hope you know I don’t expect us to repeat this, not that it will ever be the same, but…well, if you do I may just keep something handy (blush).

And I know you were probably hesitant to, um, “finish the job” and that’s OK, in fact, I would be a bit hesitant myself although we know not it’s pretty low risk. But now I feel like my own person and of course closer to you and more sure of us than I’ve ever been, and that’s what I needed tonight.

OK enough blabbering and mush, get some well-earned sleep (HA!) my dear and I hope we can nail the song tomorrow - OH, how about my grandparents’ basement? I’m pretty sure they would understand and may even like the music, my parents always suspected they were closet hippies, isn’t that hilarious?

Well love you and talk in the morning, gonna sneak this in your room and TRY not to get in bed with you (HEE HEE)

DJ

* * * * *

Nick noticed the letter on his stand after his morning pee, with just “Hey” on the outside fold, just like her to try and leave it there unnoticed. 

Deej is already talking to Irene downstairs and he goes to work tracking down the mental list of equipment to make it all work, including his entry-level RadShack mic from a sixth-grade Christmas list, and, crap, his other cast-off mics from the old church were a tad iffy but we’ll see, would be ideal to track the girls separately.

Hot damn, yeah, really need to make sure Sam is on board for an ASAP session, so we head downstairs for eggs and such.

But fear not, Sam has been confirmed and all Nick needs to worry about is equipment. And so gals give him shit for preparing a list while fixing and consuming eggs, and so Deej steps in and helps cook the breakfast - ain’t she sweet?

So there’s a factory-fresh chrome cassette, the mics and cords - stands would be nice but chairs or pillows will work in a pinch. His guitar, Peavey amp and the bass plus at least one cord, and need a tuner. The master plan is for the girls to go first then he will add his stuff in separate tracks afterward. OH need phones then, good catch. But this way it’ll be in the same spirit then he can mix it down later, as it turns out they have the mixer all week, it seems the home group sponsor is a bit too trusting but here we are.

And so the materiel makes its way down the stairs then he gets help loading it into his car, and they’re off, he follows Deej since she has to pick up their pint-sized mastermind.

Once at their makeshift studio, the deal becomes that that spectators are welcome to spectate from the stairwell, as a form of rent. Ralph expressed every regret for not being able to help carry and Nick gradually realizes he needs to grab a brew with this fellow sooner than later, or, well, whatever beverage his health allows.

So once they’re all tuned up and set up and cued up for the initial take with just the girls, Nick pauses and looks at them for a drawn-out second, long enough to get a pair of inquisitive looks in return, then ponders, out loud, 

“So why are we doing this?”

The girls exchange glances, Deej draws a deep breath, then Sam answers, 

“I just thought it would be cool.”

Nick was ready for this, “Hon it’s already beyond cool. We’re making something bigger than any of us.”

Deej throws Sam a look that seems to say, there ya have it.

Sam alternates glances at each of them, then huffs, 

“Are we gonna pull our dicks all day?”

Nick grins, “That’s what I wanted to hear, let’s go…three…two…you know what to do,” then clicks the tape as the gals pick it up while his ears get a little warm – did she really just say that with her grandparents right there?

Release

Saturday

Nick and Deej walk solemnly along the reservoir around 9:30 in the morning. She had shown up unannounced just as Nick was having breakfast and casually asked if they could get some air. Despite the fact that she was sunny for Irene, he gets credit for solving the quick math that something lurketh beneath. 

As soon as he backed out of their driveway she broke into tears, so Nick just holds her hand and lets her.

At the reservoir lot she’s down to occasional sobs as she stars blankly out the window, so he opens her door, takes her hand and here they are.

After some sighs, 

“Okay…so, my grandma Gladys is upset that us girls don’t want to have kids.”

Nick pauses as long as his conscious will allow. “Ouch.”

After a few more breaths, “Yeah…I mean, well, I think mostly she’s just trying to understand, but she broke down when talking to Mom and I just found out late last night.”

Nick sighs, “I bet that didn’t help you sleep.”

“What sleep? Well, I think I did a little.”

Nick realizes his body is about ten different temperatures, being somewhat bundled up on a sunny, breezy day, and can’t find words.

She picks up, “Mom and Dad are still thinking of adopting, so to me that all works out, but you know how grammas are.”

“Yeah.” Actually he’s just going along, although he can imagine his Gramma June would be tickled if Tim and Dena get productive at some point.

She squeezes his hand and looks over at him, “Nick you look pale.”

“Sorry.”

She laughs and hugs him, draws a deep breath, “Thanks for bringing me up here, you know we’re doing great, right?”

“I hope so.”

“And you know how hard it is for us girls, we don’t like to disappoint but that doesn’t change things, I have goals, and hell there’s plenty of other people’s kids out there - anyway.”

“Don’t you have cousins on that side?”

“Yeah but that’s a situation I don’t wanna go into.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

* * * * *

Noreen greets them with a hug, Deej first, then breaks into tears against his chest. Deej rubs her back as she tries to whisper, 

“Nicky thanks for believing in me this year.” She has her hair tied back, jeans and a button-up top, looks really nice. 

Actually most of the gang is more presentable than usual, plus some miscellaneous school cohorts mixed in, and he has yet to get a lowdown from Bart on the Cordoba project, although he’s pretty sure it’s snug under a tarp in a rather undisclosed location.

So he just squeezes her a little tighter then she breaks free and talks to Deej to let him off the hook.

As a diversion he glances over at the spread just as the big guy finds him with a hearty handshake, “Hey dude, better dig in!”

So they catch up for a few minutes and sure enough Bart has of yet barely touched prized toy but hopes to once things slow down over winter.

Once the McDonnell sibs have moved on he and Deej grab paper plates, he makes a cold-cut Dagwood and she just gets some pasta salad and fruit. 

Today had been chill time while she and Sam ran around some after their walk and then some after they got back, during which he played some radio while Deej dozed off on his bed as she does. There seems to be a rager of a contest this weekend so he hails some on the noobie portion of 40 meters and makes a single contact. Alas, this speed is starting to feel like a well worn shoe and he’s more and more tempted to upgrade soon, possibly do a study sprint after Christmas.

Deej had been rather elusive after her time with Sam, actually, pretty much the classic vibe that convinced him to reach out to her in the first place. The twist was that she had arranged to sleep in Tim’s room tonight since they might get back late from the next county, so they basically swap sisters tonight. 

And then on the ride over she seemed in a dreamy state, he wore the brown leather shoes with jeans and she went with a knee-length denim skirt and flats with a cute top. Even still he finds her legs distracting when driving, like they’re beckoning his attention as a bratty move, as someone calling your name then turning away when you look at them.

And of course, she tops it off with that KMart parfum-de-whatever from back in the day. Doesn’t say much tonight, just takes his arm as they walk.

So now they find a couple chairs in the corner and dig in and just watch everyone. At one point between a cheese block and a grape, she pipes up, 

“Do you mind taking a little walk after we eat?”

Nick looks over and she has her eyes somewhere in the room then throws him a rather mischievous grin. “Umm, sure?”

She smiles and goes on consuming as he realizes he’d never really talked to her family besides Bart’s gang and Arden. He’s also torn whether to say hi to Edna although he could prolly get away with introducing Deej since there’s not going to be any context at this point.

But the ambiance is pretty contagious tonight, from what it sounds like the clan usually does their own thing on thanksgiving then they do a big feast on Saturday, and usually plan it around a game or another.

After throwing their plates away, Nick makes good and they greet Edna, she’s delighted to see them and bluffs her way through but Nick does his best to do the same and it feels nice.

As they sneak out toward the metal shop Deej pulls him behind some machinery and starts a once-over so thorough it’s nearly a twice-over.

After a bit she lets up, “Listen bucko…tonight’s been great, um…”

“Yaess?”

“So, if you take me to her cabin, we’ll find it unlocked.”

“Oh…”

“Yeap just a bunch of boxes except what gets left for whichever brats take it over next.”

“Ahh-”

She plants one on him, “Lead the way stud.”

So they meander through the back of the shop complex, out the door and turn toward the main gravel lane which is well-lit enough for this purpose. Once again she takes his arm and leans her head on his, runs her fingertip on his forearm, but this time, 

“So…I had to run papers to the health office this week and may have grabbed something from the counter while no one was looking.”

Nick pauses, “A school pen?”

“Uh, no…something for your pen.”

Then he remembered that they sometimes set out a bowl of, well, cock socks. “OH.”

“So if you don’t mind, I’m totally ready - you don’t have to finish in me, but…”

“Gotcha,” then seals it with a smooch. No pressure.

It really is a nice, clear starry night, but his head becomes much less clear as they approach the storied cabin off to their right. Although one thing is certain, whatever forces are at play here, this will certainly reset every single memory made here with the previous occupant.

The approach stones are just as he remembered, Nick practically starts counting them, and sure enough, not locked. They can see around some by the ambient light from the poles outside but just the same he carefully maneuvers to the kitchen and flips that on just long enough to get their bearings and once again reset his mindset from this being her space to that neatly stacked boxes, some appliances and, yes, the sofa.

As he makes his way back toward Deej it’s understood that sofa is calling and without a word they set their coats on the back, she undoes her skirt, slips it off to sit on and takes her place. 

“Oh,” he blurts out as his eyes finally adjust to the fact that she’s going commando.

“Yeah, it’s one of those days and I’d have to wring ‘em out by now as it is.”

“Dayamm.”

She giggles as she undoes her top.

Nick’s knees get weak.

“Alright, come to mamma.”

He takes a step forward and she undoes his belt and so he joins in and awkwardly helps, then tries to fumble with her bra as she - clearly in charge here - gets his pen ready to write a new story. With that, she takes him in her mouth and works the magic she’d been known for in recent weeks, plus maybe some new moves that may or may not have to do with girl talk on girls nights.

Either way she keeps this going a minute or two while reaching for her purse and he hears the package tear, then she gently bites the end and suits up his little fireman.

“You ready?”

“You tell me.”

“Gimme gimme.”

So he hunkers down, moves his jeans down to his ankles and tries to find a position, then remembers this couch is on the low side and gets inspired, pulls her knees up over his shoulders as she makes the coupling arrangements, rubs it around, he can feel the warmth and she’s wet all over down there, smells wonderful mixed with that old perfume, and it’s almost too much.

Before he knows it he’s on track and gently eases in as she reacts, a mixture of familiar and new, and slowly starts the rhythm. She’s plenty deep and he’d never reach the end but she doesn’t seem to mind, and he gets the idea this really needs to get lively soon, and so he works it slightly faster, faster, then remembers his manners and works her fun button some with his thumb, but then, it seems more right to hold her hands. 

It’s about now that something sets in, he’s nowhere near ready, so we just press on, he reaches for the bra and just flips it up, seems the bold move she needed, so he adds some new moves, leans in to meet her mouth, bites her lip some, speeds up the rhythm, he strokes her neck and ears, 

“Don’t stop don’t stop oh Nicky…” then about ten seconds later, taking him by surprise she really lets out a hearty scream, maybe mixed with a fruity smelling burp and there may have been a puff down there, then she just slumps and he remembers he needs to keep her from sliding onto the floor.

Instinctively he scans the windows just to make sure no pervs are trying to look in, but it’s clear, once again quiet. So he decouples gently and gets her situated on her back, pulls his pants back up, then grabs a paper towel from the kitchen to at least dry her off some. Just as he’s trying to gingerly do that she snorts, 

“Sorry, “ then takes a deep breath, “Oh honey, did I black out?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Nicky there was nothing little about that, give me a minute.”

“We got all night babe.”

“Commere,” so she starts a long kiss that serves as a late foreplay of sorts, then as she regains her wits she fumbles for his fly, he assists, and before long that shroud comes off and she’s taking care of business while lying on her side and him still on his knees, which of course doesn’t take long but this time she keeps it inside her, probably wise since they’ll hopefully hang out some more.

While Nick recovers from that she freshens up in Noreen’s nearly-bare bathroom and seemingly has that perfume in her purse along with other surprises tonight.

So Nick also straightens up his look and doesn’t even think of previous escapades in this very bathroom, although he doesn’t care to peek into the bedroom.

Once back at the party Noreen locks eyes with his date and their secret is suddenly written all over her face, then naturally she pulls her expected shit, 

“Good boy!” with the same cadence as if congratulating a toddler on toilet training as she smacks his ass convincingly while walking past.

Deej clears her throat, “Howbout some cake now that we’ve had dessert?”

“And a beer.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

So they raid the spread once again and sit near a group this time, hell, there’s worse ways to get tired on a weekend.

Nick finds jazz for the ride home and Deej dozes off despite her determination to keep him company, but once again, this is a reset of course - not a redemption, but just, well, sometimes a space just gets re-purposed, like a rail trail.

As they walk into his house around 11:30  he’d already offered her the shower first and she’s not washing her hair yet and promised to be quick, he’ll just catch the end of SNL in the mean time, but alas, on the counter, they behold the sound mixer that Sam must have sent with his folks.

Our heroes look at each other like little kids on Christmas.

Rail Trail

July 1990

Nick is about 100 yards into a repurposed railroad alignment, freshly paved into a multi-use trail. He really wants to bring his bike up this way at some point, but today is for hoofing it.

About four hours ago was the graveside service for Paps, to be followed by a dinner at their church. Mixed in with all the handshakes, condolences, mostly unfamiliar faces and a few well-dressed females he caught wind of this new trail and arranged to take the wagon and check it out as soon as he could change into summer garb.

The sign says there are 9.3 paved miles to the next town, but as the asphalt stretches into a yet unseen point before him it seems he could keep going indefinitely.

It’s not just the things he wishes he’d thought to ask about the war, about radio, about life…it’s not just the feeling that they got the short end of the stick since Paps was only 71, and it’s not just wondering if he’d lived longer had he given up the pipe sooner, or hadn’t smoked hard in the service. 

Hell, Nick has no idea what it is.

Actually, yeah, the timing couldn’t be worse. Why is July a crazy month more often than not?

It’s hot today but with a kissing breeze, and the sun should fall behind the trail’s shade wall for the most part. Should have worn a hat and borrowed some shades for this, but no one’s paying him to think today.

Classes at EIT start in a few weeks, so he’ll just keep cranking all the hours he can stand for Bain and help out with tuition.

It’s become very tempting to find a way to loop Deej into all this, but its even doubtful she’ll be around for the fair this year since she’ll start moving soon, at least that’s how he heard it.

Tim’s about to head back to base, and Irene is not too keen on the prospect of him getting deployed to the middle east. Naturally Ned stays true to form in assuring that “they’d need a good use for him before that would ever happen.”

Of course, Paps could not have been prouder to have a grandson enlist, “You know the drill, give ‘em hell and have a round with the boys on me,” he’d say with a gleam in his eye as he slipped Tim a twenty on several occasions.

Nick sighs. How is it every other year involves some earth-shaking change - actually, there’s the ones you expect and then right along are some you never saw coming…

What he really doesn’t want to come to terms with is a strange...what do you call it? A far-fetched suspicion, just a sense of a hint, that Deej might want to be closer. How is that even possible?

This trail is marked every half mile with silvery spray paint on the asphalt, although the sign at the parking lot hints there will be improvements and upkeep as they receive donations, along with an address to submit said donations.

At any rate he’s now just at a mile and starts wondering how that translates to the campus trail or, well, howbout city blocks? Seems his mom had mentioned 14 blocks to a mile, or, well that’s close enough on a summer day. Thankfully years of cycling has drilled home the need to save enough energy for the trip back so…maybe three out and back, depending on scenery.

Speaking of scenery, so far there’s been three impressive coeds float by on skates, or maybe those inline kind; two leggy gals from the opposite direction and one just passed him politely, not tall but nice tan and solid muscle tone. But alas, Nick doesn’t share much common vernacular with these types so they just fade into the horizon. 

This reminds him of junior high track when some girls wore t-shirts that completely shrouded their shorts, making for an illusion that Nick, Vance and some others referred to as “inspiration.”

Now he can’t remember if he’d ever mentioned this concept of inspiration to Paps.

Ahh Paps, you wonderful crusty old fart. Now THAT is something Nick would relay to his face just to start a shit-slinging war, and the older they got the nastier and funner it became.

So now what?

Usually Sundays are the time to ponder that, but this is a special sabbath of sorts.

Paps had been expected to be around another year or two at least, and this just plain sucks. He even got away when that particular word slipped out in front of Gramma June; Tim had stared at him expecting hell to break loose but all their elders just tacitly sighed or nodded.

Nick had learned he’d be taking most of the radio gear and stuff, after the club guys had a chance to solemnly dismantle the station, which sadly had been collecting dust more than anything in recent months. He’d sensed a slight conspiracy brewing to have him take on the radio heritage at some point, so maybe he could try morse code before classes start.

This summer had been mostly work and the usual screwing around, although it feels weird, hell, maybe it’s best to get all the weirdness out of the way.

At this speed and vantage point, and even more so than from the bike, ordinary objects are highly intriguing, like an old silo, the kind that in early childhood he’d hope in vain was a moon rocket. There’s an impressive red-brick “I” house on an approaching hill, looks to be kept up and has a grain tower feeding several silver silos, not that Nick actually knows the terminology just used to describe it all.

His feet start to feel the distance at the second mile mark but he’s good to keep going. There have been a couple of serious cyclists whiz past on equipment that makes his old Schwinn seem like a toy. At first there were a couple of families with dogs on leash but they seem to stop a lot and may not even make it out this far. 

If he was expecting an epiphany out here it has yet to manifest, but one thing is clear, this expedition was the right idea.

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.