In Skater's Time
By: Rick Beck
(© 2021 by the author)
Editor: IJK

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

beck@tickiestories.us

Chapter 5
Moving Forward 

It was toward the end of my third week in El Cajon, and once I was ready to go out, I decided to go straight to the mall. It was still early, but back home my buds and I always had met early to decide what we were going to do with the day. There was a chance I'd run into more skaters using the mall as a place to meet.

As I skated down past the front of the mall, i noticed three boys sitting on the patch of grass just past the mall. I skated around the corner, before I skated back to sit on the curb close to the patch of grass. I leaned back on my hand, looking over my shoulder at them. They were three feet away.

Right away, I noticed one was older, maybe twenty. The other two were my age. Both of these had dark hair and eyes. Each of the three boys had a skateboard by his elbow. As I looked at them, they stared at me. 

“I'm Z,” I said. “Just moved here from back east.”

The two boys my age rolled onto their stomach, pretending not to hear me. I spoke plenty loud enough to be heard. I had succeeded. I'd caught skaters who hadn't planned out their day already. I may as well have found an empty patch of grass for all the good it did me. I turned back toward the street to watch the cars. I could see the skaters out of the corner of my eye.

Things were no different here than they were back home. Any boy who did what I'd just done, while out with my buds, we'd have reacted the same way. I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to start fitting in as soon as possible. I was tired of being the lone skater.

They decided to study the side of the mall as they talked.

The third boy sat up, brushing the grass off his hands. He grabbed his board, and he looked like he was ready to skate away. He stood up to over six feet tall. He moved across the sidewalk and sat down on the curb next to me. I didn't know what to say.

“Don't mind them. They're from the “my shit don't stink” side of things. I'm John. Where are you from back east, Z?”

“Massachusetts,” I said, unable to hide my delight.

“Way north,” John said. “My mom's from Pennsylvania.”

“That's a big state. Took forever to cross it,” I said with authority.

“You drove out?” John asked.

“I did with my family,” I said. “My father got a job in San Diego.”

“My dad's military. He's stationed at North Island. We've been here for five years now, and that's a long time to be stationed in one spot. Now that I'm out of school, I plan to stay. What about you?”

“I've dreamed of being in California all my life. It's what we all talked about back home. I didn't think I'd ever get here, but you never know. My father got a job offer, and here I am. It's less than glorious, because I don't know anyone here. I met Gordo a couple of days ago. He seemed cool. Now, I met you,” I said.

I was sure I sounded like a dope to a grown man, but I wanted to say something that kept him there for a few minutes.

“Gordo!” John said. “He's a bit on the wild side. He's a nice guy and a good skater. I know most of the young skaters. By the time most guys are my age, skating is secondary. They're chasing women. Getting jobs. A few go to college. I'm not one of those. Haven't figured out which way to go yet,” he said.

“I know the feeling,” I said. “I haven't finished school, and I like some of the stuff I've learned, but nothing I like is going to become a career. A lot of guys go to college to figure out what they might be good at. That's way too expensive a trip to take if you aren't sure you'll use the subjects you're learning. I've got some time, but that's what worries me.”

“Skaters are a different breed around here. A lot of guys my age are on the street. They don't have jobs. They skate and they hang out,” John said.

“How do they survive if they don't work?” I asked.

“There's all kinds of ways to get by, Z. Guys my age have a lot to offer, and there are guys who like guys my age. It's all cool. I have a half dozen places where I do odd jobs. Places I hang out. I won't work just to make money. If I miss a meal now and again, that's cool too. No one needs to eat three times a day every day anyway,” he said.

“Who are those other two boys?” I asked.

“The big one is Ace. The thin one is Dart. They hang together. As you can tell, they aren't that friendly to outsiders. Don't expect them to walk over for an introduction. If it suits one of them, they'll talk to you, but you've got to watch Ace. I'm not too sure about him. I've known Dart for a while, and he's harmless.”

“Cool,” I said. “Thanks.”

“East Coast covers a lot of ground,” John said.

“Massachusetts,” I said, half looking at him, half not.

I tried to seem casual.

"Oh yeah, you said that. Gets cold I bet," he said.

"Yeah, winters are a bear. Where do skaters hang, dude? I'm not having much luck meeting skaters here. All my buds back east skate,” I said.

I saw no point in wasting time. I had a skater talking to me, and I asked the question that would most likely get me the result I wanted.

I might have asked him for the combination to the safe or for his girlfriend’s phone number.  He considered the question carefully, leaning further back onto his elbows.  He wore Spandex and my eyes couldn't help themselves.  Who wear such garments.  You couldn't hide anything from anyone.  I checked the other two boys; one had on Spandex, and the other had regular shorts, dark blue, which went down to his knees. They were both preoccupied with something across the street.

John spoke casually. He seemed like he was OK. He didn't speak right away. He seemed like a guy that was in no hurry. He sat down to talk, and we were talking. He understood where I was coming from, but he wasn't going to solve my problems without taking time to think about my questions.                                                                                                                 

"Here, sometimes," he said slowly, getting my eyes off the bubble butt of the other boy in spandex. Then, I fought myself as they went back to the front of John's shorts.  "Down at the tube we do a lot of skating once it cools down," he said, nodding toward the back of the mall to where another halfpipe ran down one side of the parking lot.

"There are a couple of parks nearby. As long as we don't get too wild, they let us skate there. It's a smooth sidewalk and some asphalt walking paths. The Burger Hut attacks a lot of skaters, when we don't eat in the food court,” he said. “They hassle us over at the theaters, but we skate there anyway. The cops are cool, if we aren't running over people or getting in the way of cars dropping people off to see a show."

John's brownish hair had blond streaks running through it. He had blue eyes. He was fairly tall. His long legs were covered in brownish-colored hair. The spandex showed off a slim body, and he smiled each time I looked at the front of his spandex shorts. He had to be thinking I was gay, but he didn't react except for a small smile. I figured John to be a pleasant guy. He was a little old for me, but what was too old? As long as he wanted to sit and talk, I was going to sit right there and talk to him.

I still wasn't able to adapt to boys in spandex. It left nothing to the imagination, and what I was imagining was x-rated. It was like I'd washed my brain, and I couldn't do a thing with it, and what I was doing with it made me blush. I tried to keep my eyes off his shorts but without much success.

Gordo was cute. He had a nice smile, but there wasn't much to our conversation. Before I could ask him where he lived, he'd jumped up to meet his friend. He'd gotten into a nice white car. It could have been his dad, or it could have been an older friend.

Gordo seemed young, although I wasn't sure he was any younger than I was. I did know he sat with his leg against mine for five minutes or more. Didn't bother him a little bit, and except for getting me aroused, it didn't bother me. He'd said suggestive things, like he might want to get together later, but there was no point to most of our conversation. I didn't think fast enough to ask him where he lived or hung out.

John was way more mature. I knew a couple of places where I could go and find skaters. I'd passed the theaters and never gave them a thought. I'd passed one park on my way to Broadway. It was a half a block down from where I was skating. Back home parks are marked with signs “No skateboards.”

The atmosphere here seemed friendlier. I hadn't seen anyone shake his fist at me for using the sidewalk or while crossing a street. I hadn't even gotten any dirty looks that I noticed. Back home, skaters were rough. They got into a lot of trouble and a lot of drinking went on. Although, except for a swig or two, so I didn't look like a wuss, I didn't like the taste of booze.

There was a war on drugs back east, and I was a conscientious objector. I didn't dare risk getting into trouble. My parents trusted me. I'd never gotten into trouble, except for the time I punched out Bobby Roth for grabbing my skateboard. All a teacher saw was me winding up and smacking him in the face. I got suspended for four days, and I had to apologize to the creep.

It taught me a valuable lesson, if you're going to punch out someone, make sure a teacher isn't watching. Like most things, it was a reaction to what he did, but teachers never seem to see the boy who starts the trouble; they see the poor kid who refuses to be pushed around strike back.

John was in no hurry to be anywhere, when Ace and Dart skated away. I'd lost interest in them, but they were my age, and sooner or later, I'd get to know them better. El Cajon looked big, because it was so spread out. There was one neighborhood after another, as you went a couple of miles away toward Santee. For skaters, it was one big city to roam in with a lot of places to go.

I wasn't going anywhere, as long as John sat there. He told me about Ralph's and a pancake house nearby. Skaters hung by the dumpster at Ralph's and under the trees at the corner of the pancake house parking lot. There was a burger joint down Broadway and a surfboard and skateboard shop near Santee.

“You know where Gordo lives,” I asked, figuring I'd give it a shot.

“Yeah, Gordo lives with me,” John said, not missing a beat.

“With you? Where do you live, John,” I asked, unsure of why I asked.

“When you skate, you go over the bridges. You can see skaters down in the concrete aqueducts.”

“Yeah, I've seen skaters in those halfpipes,” I said.

“You ever look farther along, and you see skaters sitting up under the next bridge, next to those halfpipes?” John asked.

“Yeah, I've seen that. I figured it's cooler there,” I said.

“It's out of the weather. We live under the bridges between El Cajon and Santee. Santee is a bit farther out, and there aren't as many people. We leave our stuff there. Nothing valuable. You had your sleeping bag, if you have one, and you keep most of what you own with you.”

“Wow!” I said, and it wasn't a good feeling that news gave me.

“How do you live without having some place to shower or do laundry?” I asked, my mind immediately traveling to how neat I'd been taught to be.

“I got friends. You really don't need a lot of stuff. Once you start collecting stuff, you've got to protect it, keep it safe from prying eyes, and there's always someone who will do his best to take anything of value off you. I don't have anything of value. I travel light,” John said.

I stared at him. He was clean. His sneakers were cool enough. He wasn't wearing socks. It was obvious he wasn't wearing underwear under his spandex.

“How many of you live like that?” I asked, not having any idea what I wanted him to tell me.

He grew silent for a while, leaning back on his elbows. We watched cars turn onto Broadway.

“I don't know how many. Two or three guys hang up under one bridge. Sometimes it is more, and sometimes not. We usually have it good, and we share, because you never know when you ain't got no food, when you are hungry. If you share what you got, when you got food, other guys tend to return the favor. It works fine. Like I said, it's an illusion we've got to eat three times a day. No one needs all that food, but because there is all that food, we figure we got to eat it.”

I chuckled. John smiled at me.

“Your eyes, Z. You've got to be careful with your eyes,” John said.

“I don't know what that means,” I said.

“You've been scoping out what's in my shorts, since I sat down. With me, I go every which way but loose. Not all guys do. Not all skaters do. I wouldn't want to see you get yourself into any trouble, checking out guys’ dicks,” he said.

“We don't wear spandex back home,” I said. “I've never seen guy walk around with their dicks outlined in their shorts.”

“I get that, and most guys aren't going to think anything of it. Some guys like the idea of showing off their goods, but I'm telling you that you can't just stare at their dicks. You might make out fine using that approach, but sooner or later you'll run into someone who is offended by guys who like looking at dicks.”

“I get that. I'm sorry. I can't get used to guys dicks just being right there,” I said.

“I don't mind. It makes me feel good that someone looks at me that way. I'm not like anyone I know. That's all. Be careful, Z. You won't have any trouble finding guys who are agreeable to having someone service them.”

“I don't know that much about it,” I said, willing to learn.

“You have plenty of time, Z. Don't hurry something that isn't meant to be hurried. Look around for a while. See what there is to see.”

We heard skateboards behind us. Ace and Dart had gotten up. They were skating toward the back of the mall. John followed them with his eyes.

“Come on. Let's use the grass. My ass is getting sore,” he said.

We moved to the patch of lawn. John stretched out on his stomach, placing his chin in one of his hands. He had a far away look in his eyes.

“Here abouts, skaters are free spirits. We live where we are at the moment. Guys I hang with are on their own. We don't conform to anything in particular. No one needs to live inside, eat three meals a day, or sleep in a cozy bed. That's a bill of goods we're all sold, so we work our asses off for the man, and help make the rich old farts richer. No! Give me fresh air, some odd jobs from time to time, and maybe I get in a car and make a few bucks if I feel like pampering myself,” John said, seeing his life down the sidewalk from where we sat.

“Where will you sleep tonight?” I asked.

“As beautiful as it is, I'll sleep out tonight. It's way cooler outside, after dark, than it is in a house, where you need to run the a/c, while watching the tube, and make sure everything smells outdoor sweet,” he said.

“You've got to have shelter back east, or you’d freeze your balls off. I still live at home. I came out here with my parents. I wouldn't like living under a bridge. Who'd fix dinner? I'm looking for work,” I said.

“You can have my job,” John said. “I'm not doing anything right now.”

“I want to buy a surfboard,” I said.

“You know how to surf, dude?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Why do you need a surfboard?” John asked.

“I want to learn. You ever been surfing?” I asked.

“Sure, when I was young. Everyone had a surfboard then. Sometimes, as you grow older, doing the things everyone does isn't the thing to do any more.”

“If I don't get a job, I'll sit around all day,” I said. 

“You're looking for a life, dude. If you can't make it here, you can't make it. It's easy, as long as you don't get too intense. It's like finding skaters. You keep your eyes open. You can't miss us. You just need to approach us with care. You got to give them time to  look you over. Hear your story, you know. Everyone's curious about other dudes, dude. We'll ask you what it's like back east, and we'll listen to your story.”

“You make it sound easy,” I said.

“You sound like you think it isn't easy,” John said. “Just be around, Z. You'll meet more guys than you'll know what to do with. It's time for me to make tracks. I might be back later today, but don't sit here thinking I might be back, and you're going to wait and see. Hell, I might be in Arizona tonight, and I might be sleeping under a bridge in Santee. Don't try to pin me down, and we'll be seeing each other again before you know it. Nice meeting you. See Yeah!”

I watched John skate away. He didn't look back, and I realized I'd meet a pretty smart guy. He was smart because he didn't think you had to do what you were told to do. He wanted to live life on his own terms. I liked that. I'd never be able to live that way. I was too conservative, too conventional. I'd always had jobs back home. I don't think I could live under a bridge. 

* * * * * 

I continued to watch John skating away from me. It wasn't noon yet, and I'd learned more in an hour from John, then I'd learned in almost three weeks in California. I'd never met anyone like John, but he was older than I was by a few years. He had something that I didn't have—experience.

I liked that he sat with me and told me things that I'd have found offensive coming from other guys, but I knew John was being up front with me. He didn't mind telling me about what he felt and what he thought about a guy my age. Except for Gordo, I hadn't talked to anyone but John. I wouldn't look for him, but when I saw him again, I hoped we could sit together and talk some more.

John left me with a million things going through my mind. I went to the food court for a soda. While I stood in line, a kid with a skateboard stood in line at the next shop, waiting to be served. I smiled and nodded at him, once he looked my way. He smiled and nodded back.

I didn't have the urge to grab him and force him to talk to me. Earlier that day, if I hadn't met John, that's just what I would have done.

I went home early, skating by the park I passed on my way to the mall. I skated around it and saw the asphalt paths. A group of women were walking very fast, and I stepped out of their way, while I was looking around.

I went straight to my bedroom. I took out the journal I'd written in on our way to California. I had a lot to write about today. Things had changed today. Meeting John was a step in the right direction. He told me things I never thought about before, and I wanted to remember it all. I began writing.

I didn't simply write about what we talked about, but I wrote about how it made me feel. I wanted to give John credit for knowing things about guys being together, and he had no objections to it, except he didn't want me to get into trouble by trying to move too fast.

John had slowed me down. He made me want to think more about what I wanted. I just didn't want to meet a guy who would let me hang around with him, I wanted to meet guys who were fun to be around, and maybe one of them would be so much fine, we'd become boyfriends. I know, it was a stretch, but sooner or later, I was going to want a boyfriend.

To be continued...

Posted: 04/23/2021