Chapter 4

Out of the blue, Sandy walked into the hardware store.

“Sandy!” Craig said. “Why are you here?” She held up her hand to show him a small screw, Phillips head, chrome finish. She followed him down the aisle to the right section. He thought he’d found the right package, and he showed it to her. “You sure he wants a Phillips head?”

“He wants one just like that. They have to match.”

“Well, that’s what you’ve got.” He led her to the cash register. Mr. Davis was handling a customer, and he waited for then to finish. Then, with Mr. Davis watching closely but not saying anything, he rang up the package of screws for Sandy. “Look, this is a bad place to talk. May I call you?”

“Sure.” That was Saturday, and he was invited to the Simmonds for Sunday dinner the next day. He was off Monday, though, and he called then.

“Sandy,” he said when her mother had got her to the phone, “this is Craig Schmidt.”

“Hello, Craig.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“I wouldn’t say I was ever mad at you,” Sandy said. She had put him through hell, but she wouldn’t say that she had been mad.

“Well, maybe saying it would have helped. You know, you never told me that you thought that was our song.”

“If I didn’t, how do you know?”

“You never told me,” he said. “You told plenty of other people when you were mad at me.”

“So?...”

“So, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Your dad told me that I had to dance with other girls. You were there. I danced with another girl. You dumped me.”

“Well, I went looking for you when our song was playing, and you were enjoying yourself in Nancy Simmonds’ arms.”

“Look, we’ve both said how it looked to us. That is the worst time of more than a year going together. What I don’t know is what you’ve been doing since.” She told him, without quite mentioning Charlie. He told her lots of what he’d been doing without quite mentioning Nancy. She was impressed with his grades. He was getting antsy about the time when Sandy said that her mom needed the phone.

He got himself lunch, PBJs since he was running late. He took the dinner that Mom had packed and got to work on the bus with nearly half an hour to spare.

Well, if Sandy would speak to him, maybe she’d meet him. It couldn’t be a date thing, but they could talk in the park somewhat between their houses. He called her Tuesday to ask her. She agreed to meet him at the entrance nearest her house.

“You work at the hardware store?” Sandy asked when they had both got there.

“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 12:00 to 9:00. Saturdays, from 9:00 to 9:00. You’d think that hardware stores wouldn’t do much business weekdays when men are at work. You get an entirely different trade then, carpenters, plumbers and such who know precisely what they want. I’m only now learning to find what they need.”

He’d been learning, and he was fascinated by what he’d learned. Sandy listened to him until he got scared that he was boring her, but she seemed interested. Maybe she was interested in him.

They talked until Sandy had to go back for lunch. They made an appointment; it wasn’t really a date, for Thursday. He made some lunch for himself and cleaned up the kitchen -- since the mess was what he’d done -- and the bathroom -- since that was his assigned chore besides his room.

Getting himself off, he thought of Sandy. She was much more exciting than the magazines he usually used. Somehow, although he’d seen almost none of her, she was as exciting as Nancy. And he’d seen -- once -- and felt -- several times -- everything important on Nancy. What would it be like to see Sandy come the way he’d seen Nancy come?

Thursday morning, he felt a little guilty about what he’d thought about her. Sandy, though, talked cheerfully and innocently to him. They talked about school subjects. Sandy had taken one marking period of typing, and he wanted that for college. He thought he should take that Senior year. It would make college themes much easier, and lots of kids did that. Sandy, on the other hand, was thinking of taking the full year that the school taught. She’d had an A in typing, which made repeating it sound ridiculous. She explained, though, that the teacher thought it would be all right. Typing was a skill, like -- he thought -- basketball, all that doing it for a year would do was hone that skill.

Neither had a clear vision of the future. That was more sensible of her than it was of him. She would be starting her junior year and hadn’t even decided whether to try college.

He was about to be a senior and would have to choose his college and his major. He was better in the sciences than in English or History, but he didn’t really shine. In fact, the learning he did in the hardware store was more interesting than any of the classes he’d taken the previous year. He only said part of that to her.

They made a date, maybe a date, for the next Tuesday. Then she left for lunch

After his own lunch, he was in his room beating off. He tried to keep it to times when nobody else was in the house. He had exciting thoughts about Sandy, and he tried to keep himself excited as long as possible before going to his peak. When he was near, though, the phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, but the mood was spoiled. He went downstairs to get it.

“Hello,” he said.

“Well, aren’t you cheerful?” Nancy’s voice came back. “Did I interrupt something important?”

“Mo. Not at all.”

“I called this morning, and nobody answered. This is my late day, and I’m calling a half hour before I have to leave. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I was out this morning.”

“And it’s none of my business where you were. Well, you’re right.”

“I was in Spencer Park.”

“Oh? What was happening?” Nancy asked. He didn’t want to tell her. But, really, it was her business. If he knew where he stood with Sandy, he would have told Nancy, but he didn’t.

“Nothing much. It was a nice day, and I walked around. I stand a lot in the store, but I don’t walk much.” They talked a little more, and then she had to go to her job. It was in a grocery store -- a Jewel -- but her work was stocking shelves.

Somehow, when he went back to his bedroom to finish his business, he got out a magazine which was harder core than his usual Playboys. He came, but he felt vicious.

He got through the rest of the week. Tuesday, he was scared that Sandy would call off, or had forgotten, their date to talk. The sky looked threatening. When he’d been in the park entrance for only a few minutes and before ten, the time that they had set, Sandy came up. With the look of the weather, they had their choice of park benches. Unfortunately, it began to rain soon.

“Can we move under the trees?” Sandy asked. The trees wouldn’t provide shelter long. If the wind got worse, it wouldn’t provide much shelter even now.

“Too much danger of lightning. Look, want to come back to my house? Nobody’s home.”

She looked doubtful for one minute, but then she went with him. The rain was heavier before they got inside, but the real storm came afterwards. They sat in his living room looking out at the storm. Her blouse was wet enough to plaster against her tits. He could remember those tits, although they looked even larger now. Still, they weren’t his any longer. He talked of innocent things and kept his thoughts to himself. He had planned on PBJs for lunch and didn’t think he should offer them to Sandy. He did split a coke with her.

When the rain let up, she agreed to meet Thursday. Then she ran home. She didn’t call to say that she’d arrived, but he didn’t hear an ambulance, either.

Wednesday, he concentrated on learning in the afternoon while the carpenters were there. He and Mr. Davis alternated in front starting a little after five while the other ate dinner. Then the hobbyists and homeowners came in. Sometimes, Mr. Davis left him on the register while helping a customer. Occasionally, if the request was simple enough, Mr. Davis trusted him to find what they guy wanted.

Thursday, he’d planned to get there early. Sandy, however, was there before him. She rose when he got close.

“Sorry, am I late?” he asked.

“I just wanted to get out early. And I didn’t want to phone.”

“Want to walk or want to sit?” She wanted to walk, and she didn’t seem to want to talk. Well, there’d been a time when they would walk hand in hand, but he’d blown those times.

“Want to head back?” he asked when they got to the entrance he’d used. She didn’t seem to want to talk, but she didn’t look like she was going to turn around.

“What I really want is another Coke. Do you have another bottle in your ‘fridge?”

“Sure. Want to come home to get it?” That would mean her in his house yet again. Then he remembered that he hadn’t cleaned up the house yet. He didn’t really clean more than a few rooms, but he was supposed to get the place neat on his off days.

She didn’t make a comment, though, when he moved the paper off the couch.

“Want to sit here?” he asked gesturing to the couch.

“I broke up with Charlie yesterday.” That was great news, but she didn’t look like she thought so.

“That’s too bad. For you, I mean. You don’t have a boyfriend now?”

“No,” she said.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to kiss you?” She looked like it did mean that, and he went to her and kissed her. At first, he was kissing her and holding back. Then she returned the kiss and opened her mouth when he pressed in his tongue. It went on and on until he needed to get his breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time,” he said. “Since we broke up, since I saw you dancing with Charlie when you wouldn’t dance with me. Well, I wanted to earlier, too, but -- you know -- I could. Not as much as I wanted to, though.”

He went back to the kisses, and she acted as though she welcomed them. When he broke the next time, it was to go to the sofa. It wasn’t the back seat of a car, but it was softer, more private, better in every way. He kissed over her face, her mouth again, then his hands -- defying the order of his brain -- returned to her lovely tits which they hadn’t touched in an eon. That was too much, though. He controlled himself.

“Tell me when I can’t,” he said.

“Don’t leave hickeys.”

That was wonderful to hear. He kissed her again and began to unbutton her shirt.

“Give me a minute,” Sandy said. She stood up. Well, he’d told her he’d stop. In the old days, though, when he’d gone too far, she usually let him back up and still make out in the permissible ways. Now, she looked like she was going to leave. Instead of getting dressed again, though, Sandy took off her blouse and bra. She walked over to where he was sitting and offered him her tits.

He kissed them, sucked their nipples, buried his face between them. Had she been that soft and full before? “Come back,” he asked her and tugged her toward the sofa. She sat with only that invitation. He had her warm, willing mouth under his while her soft, full breasts attracted his hands.

He couldn’t get enough of her, but he damned-well tried. Finally, he remembered the Coke she had wanted.

“That’s okay.” Sandy said. Then she looked at her watch. “I have to get back, though.”

“Can I walk you?”

“Through the park.” They sort of turned their backs on each other while they were getting dressed again. He’d kept his clothes mostly on, but they weren’t in shape for others to see -- especially not when he was with Sandy. If his shirt had come this loose in a basketball game, that wouldn’t have embarrassed him.

“One last kiss,” he said. She gave him a last kiss, long and wet and deep. He could feel her warm and soft against his boner, her breasts soft and firm-tipped against his chest. Then they went out and walked across the park. They had only light kisses there, but he captured her hand after the last one. He couldn’t keep her, but he had the feeling of holding her for another minute.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said. “Tuesday?”

“Sure. Here or at your house? If I can get away earlier, I don’t want to wait out here.”

“My house. Sandy, I love you.” This kiss was really the last one. He didn’t want it to end, but it finally did. He watched her until she was out of sight, and then he went back among some trees where nobody could see him to adjust his cock. It still bulged out his jeans, but none of the passersby seemed to notice.

He’d thought himself so overworked earlier. Now, he had almost nothing to do until Tuesday. He got the whole house neat and scrubbed the bathroom that afternoon. He had a brainstorm that night. He called a few record stores Friday morning until he found one that still stocked Honey Bee. It was in Chicago, but he scheduled time to go there Monday morning. Sunday, he cleaned his room. Then while Mom and Dad were in their room, he called Nancy.

“Long time no see,” she said. “Even hear.”

“Well, last Saturday, I was working in the hardware store when Sandy Jackson walked in.” There was a long silence before Nancy spoke again.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, we’ve talked a couple of times since, in the park, mostly.”

“Are you back together?” Nancy asked. “Don’t you think I deserve to be told instead of seeing you somewhere together?”

“Well, that’s a good question. I don’t think we’re back together. We’re friends again, but we haven’t had a date yet. Maybe we won’t have a date.”

“Well, I always knew I only had you on loan.”

“That’s not really true,” he said.

“Remember what you told me at the picnic? I’m not sure that the babies aren’t listening to what I say.”

“Are they on the line?”

“Nope,” she said. “We only have one line.”

“Well, I remember what you said on the picnic.” She’d said many things, especially no.

“And was I right? Are you really in love with her?”

“God, Nancy, I don’t know,” he said. “In some ways, I am, I guess.”

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“I’m not sure that we should date right now. I don’t mean to reject you, but you said that you deserve to be told. I’m telling you. If I’m not being clear to you, it’s because I’m not clear, myself.”

“Well, Craig,” Nancy said, “You’ve always been a nice guy.” He didn’t want to hear that, but maybe that was why she’d said it. She hung up before either had said goodbye.

Monday, he got to the record store and back with time to eat lunch before getting to work early.

Maybe he could look out and see her coming down the walk. Then, he could have the song playing upstairs when she came in the door. He couldn’t invite her upstairs to hear it. That was his bed room. He was dithering so much and being scrupulous about cleaning the living room and kitchen that he hadn’t even touched his bedroom. Well, she’d never see it.

She rang the bell before he looked out, and well before (when he checked his watch) ten.

“Am I too early?” Sandy asked when he opened the door. She couldn’t be too early. Well, if Mom were here or he’d been still asleep, that would have been too early.