Chapter 23: Protection

October 6, 1980

As I’d expected, A very happy, giggling girl tackled me at school. Once I got disentangled from Candice’s lips, I grinned at her. “Happy to see me?”

“Uh huh!”

A teacher that I didn’t know came over. “I’m warning you on the P.D.A. Keep it down or I’ll send you to the office.”

“Yes, Sir,” we said, nearly in unison. He smiled, turned back to the parking lot. I’m pretty sure his job was much more about watching for unsafe driving. Otherwise he’d have just sent us to the office.

I took Candice’s hand, and we walked to our lockers. She squeezed it. “I’m already wishing it was Saturday. You know? Since we’re not on the schedule tomorrow?”

I smiled. “It’ll be fine, honey. It’s already a big improvement.”

She giggled. “You can say that again! I felt sooooooooo good this morning. Well, and yesterday, but you were there for that.” She grinned, then blushed. “I don’t mean. Um ... I just meant I woke up feeling terrific.”

I grinned and hugged her. “I didn’t think you meant, well, what you didn’t mean. Not that I wouldn’t mind hearing all about ... that ... but it might make me walk funny going to class.”

“Speaking of which...”

“Really? You’re going to get into that?”

She whapped my arm. “Behave!”

“I was behaving. Mis- is a form of behaving.”

She whapped harder. “Shush! You’ll like what I’m going to say if you let me say it! Talk about a big mouth!”

“You liked my...”

“Shush. Right now.”

“Fine,” I chuckled.

“OK. Mister chatty. Which is relevant. Anyway. I want you to do something. No! Shush! Anyway, I want to see if your parents will let you get a second phone line. I wouldn’t want to call your main phone and wake your parents, but, um ... if you had your own phone, I might call late at night. When I’m alone. And bored. And, um ... you know.”

My girlfriend was proposing phone sex. Woo-hoo!

“That sounds ... interesting.”

“Yeah, I thought so. It’d be just as interesting for me. I mean, I think about you anyway. So, you know, if I knew you were...”

“Uh huh, I get it. Trouble walking to class.” Whap.

“I still have no idea what girls find attractive there.”

She grinned. “You’re not supposed to. If you were the kind of guy that did, you probably wouldn’t be looking at me the way you do.”

“Good point.”

“Look, see if they’ll allow it. You and Angie could split the cost. The girl talk network does better when it’s not a family phone. And she’d get off when I wanted her to g ... shush! I didn’t mean it that way!” She was giggling too much to whap me.

“I’ll check with Angie. And the parents. I think there’s a good chance they’ll go for it.”

“Cool. It’d make more fun to get through the days between, um ... naps.”

“Can’t disagree there.”

For a wonder, we weren’t late, didn’t need to rush, and could bike along and talk. And the subject wasn’t too out there.

“Hey sis. What do you think about splitting the cost of a second phone line?”

“Ooh! Would mom and dad go for it? I want one!” She gave me a look. “Where’s this coming from? You’re never on the phone that much.”

She had no idea that, the first time around, I’d lived on the phone as much as any girl. My best friend lived a half-hour drive away, and we talked for hours. I still felt the occasional pang of regret that I’d passed on that friendship this time through, but, even if all we did was talk, I’d rather spend that time talking with Angie, or Candice, or Connie, or Mike or Dan or Jimmy. It’s just that, my first time through, I didn’t have anyone like that.

“Someone might have suggested it.”

“That means Candice. Wait ... Candice...” Her face lit up. “That hussy!”

“Takes one to know one?”

She giggled. “You can’t use that line. Boys are not hussies. They can be a lot of things, but never hussies. So ... we’d have to share. And schedule...” I nodded. “ ... because it’d be awkward if I was lonely and talking to my boyfriend when you picked up the phone...”

I shook my head. “Don’t want to know. Though I think hussy would apply there.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“True. I’ve never heard you say that.”

“So, Mom and Dad?”

“I think so. Especially if we offer to pay for it. I’m gonna guess they’ll decide we don’t have to.”

“No extensions outside our rooms?”

“I know how to wire phones so they don’t work.” I grinned. “They can plug in a phone.” I shrugged. “It just won’t do anything.”

“This is why I want to stay on your side.”

“I’m always on your side, little sister.”

“And I’m always on yours, big brother.”

As dinner was winding down, I broached the subject. “Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Angie and I were talking. It’s a lot different now, with the study group and all. I know why we have the phone rules, but our friends want to call sometimes and ask about a homework problem, stuff like that. And sure, I can tell them how to call to get through, but it’s awkward and it still rings, which is disturbing.”

Dad believed in giving his employer 100% of his attention during work time or whatever overtime he considered part of the job. If he needed time off, it came as part of what he was entitled to — vacation, sick time, etc. That, or he didn’t take it. If he needed to update sample books, that was valid overtime. So was a problem that started during work hours.

However, problems outside work hours were different. Things happened. Customers had an issue with something. Things broke or failed. In Dad’s view, there were people whose job it was to handle that. He’d done a fair day’s work, and that was that.

As a result, we’d turned the phone ringer off at 6pm for years. No ringer, no chance of after-hours calls. That lasted until a family emergency happened and they couldn’t reach us until the next day. Then we changed to the ringer being on — on just one phone. However, we’d answer if and only if it rang twice, and then there was a pause, and then it rang again.

This was before caller ID, texting, pagers, cell phones, voicemail — all that stuff. It worked in the 1980’s. There were answering machines, but he refused to get one, because they’d expect him to listen to the messages as soon as possible.

So, all of our friends needed to know that code — and any call from a friend might be an emergency call from a relative. Every call was a low-level panic.

“You expect that many calls?”

I nodded. “Angie or I, probably both, would get a couple a night if we had our own phone. Right now everyone knows it’s a disturbance if they call. And we don’t have phones where it won’t bother you if we’re talking on them.”

He nodded. Mom spoke up. “Homework, right? Study group? This wouldn’t be about gabbing with friends?” She was smiling. After all, Mom was a girl, too, and undoubtedly was very familiar with girl talk.

Angie laughed. “Of course there’ll be gabbing with friends, Mom. But we won’t gab too long, and neither of us would let it affect our sleep or anything. And we’d have to share, and besides, we want people to be able to call. Can’t do that if the phone is in use.”

I wouldn’t mention that we’d go for call waiting if we could. Not then.

Dad smiled. “It sounds like a great idea. I’d pay to keep the phone from ringing. I’ll tell you what. You buy the phones — of course you’ll both want one — and do the wiring, whatever that takes. I know you can do it, you already rewired the jack in the kitchen.” I’d removed the old four-prong jack and replaced it with a modular. “You do that, we’ll pick up the cost of the line. But no, and I mean no, long distance or out of area calls without talking to me first.”

I’d learned my lesson on that the hard way a couple years ago, when I’d called out-of-state rare stamp dealers while working on my nascent stamp collection without realizing what that would do to the phone bill. It was not pretty. Fortunately, the calls had been very short. I wondered if that had happened this time too. Memories seemed to say it had, but it was something that could have been different.

Angie lit up. “Thanks, Dad!”

I chimed in, “We really appreciate it! I’ll figure out the wiring, no problem.”

October 7, 1980

I should’ve been paying a bit more attention on Tuesday. It would’ve helped with confusion later. Candice was unusually clingy, even for her, and wanted me to carry her books. I loved carrying her books, so no problem there, but usually she wanted to carry her own. Then she didn’t want to run in PE; she wanted to play badminton. With a lot of sitting on the bleachers.

I shrugged it off. Everyone has an off day. Then we got to study group. It worked out fine. Really. But it sure wasn’t Sunday.

First off, it was Mel’s turn tonight. No Andy meant that wasn’t happening. Of course, we offered Mel the chance to transfer to Sunday, but she said that wouldn’t be fair. Which said she didn’t want the turn all that much.

I was pretty sure Mel would have a different date for Halloween. And Andy might be out of the study group. It wasn’t fair, but he could only make half the meetings, he wasn’t taking part in our big side activity, and he’d made a new group of friends that he could study with. I wasn’t sure he’d mind that much by this point.

Mel’s dropping out meant new straws. By popular vote, we allowed Mel to give her turn to Mike and Sarah, but the rest of us drew straws. Candice drew the short straw. Angie had the next one, then Emily, Connie, Mel (if she used it), then Debbie.

The look on Candice’s face wasn’t the one I expected. And I misread it.

“Candice, let’s go play billiards for a bit.” That’d become code for ‘We need a few minutes in private.’ If a couple said, ‘Hey, y’all wanna play pool?’ that was a game. ‘We’re going to play billiards’ was a private conversation.

She nodded, looking a little shaky. I took her hand and headed over. I was pretty sure what was wrong. Again, I misread it.

“Look, I meant it. No pressure. What we did last time is fine. Less is fine.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Um... “What do you mean, no? That I’m pressuring you? Or, it wasn’t fine? Or, you don’t think doing less is fine.”

She growled. “I mean, I want to do more, and I need to do less.”

Ummmm.

“Candice, help me here. I’m not reading y ... wait.” It dawned on me. “Um ... I’m going to risk getting smacked, and I don’t mean your playful swats.” That got a smile. Not a big one, but a smile. “28 days?”

She blushed, nodded. “I um ... I started. Um ... Today. I thought it was good timing, but then ... the fucking short straw. The one time I didn’t want it.” I hugged her tight. “Look, Steve. I’m feeling all bloated and achy and I’m a total mess and it’s embarrassing for them to know it, but I don’t want to fucking waste our night on not doing anything.”

“I’m fine with doing less, I promise. I love you, not, you know, what we do.”