There is a thunder at the center of the multiverse, like the heartbeat of a thousand horses who are pouring over the crest of a wave at dawn, stampeding their way over the water to someone’s salvation. The heartbeat, the hooves, the waves, they are the motion of the skies and the seas, they are inevitability, they are smashing particles and shared articles, they are the sound of all life, fighting and fucking and dancing, kicking feet, cascading across the cosmos in a miraculous symphony of error or design. I am a part of this exquisite tragedy, and I kick too. I kick off the pavement, adding the raucous, rattling, radness of four wheels and a deck to that rapturous, heavenly score.

All I can hope to offer in return for the opportunity to contribute is to love well.

I jumped Dustin Nguyen on the day I met Levi. People went apeshit. I Just cleared him, landed a 540 out of the bowl. You’d think I would have been worried that I was going to take his head off, but really, when ya know it’s gonna work, ya know. It’s like flying. Dustin’s only eleven so, not that tall, but even still. Took some balls on his part too, to stand there and trust me like that. He catches a truck to the face and the whole thing’s a bloody mess.

I hate watching the kids breakdance on the boardwalk. Hate watching all those young colored boys sing for their supper. I mean, you do you, and I hear they make dough, but it makes me feel a little ill. At the skate park, there are always tourists, they take their photos at sunset, they marvel, but when you really pull something off, like I did by fucking clearing Dustin and nailing the landing, they know enough to know it’s not for them. Sure, they see a black boy on his skateboard, and they register a surprise they think I can’t see, but I see it every time. And in the instant after, they figure out that it’s all beyond them and certainly not for them; I’m not there for them. You know how they figure that out? I tell ‘em. Not with words, but with everything else. I’m polite, and I’m real goddamn good, but fuck a tip jar. The everyday kids, the ones with broken wrists that healed wrong, and torn jeans, with joints stashed all up in their shit, we’re there for something else entirely. There’s this thing we all say, when we smoke, right when we light up, we say “So emblazoned a fraternity”. They all picked it up from me ‘cause I said it when I was out of my mind one day. It’s from Moby Dick, when he was talking about the nobility of whalers and joining them and some shit, and now we all say it when we smoke. I don’t really see what’s fucking noble about killing a whale. Bringing death upon some beautiful ugly giant who probably would leave you alone if you left it alone. But maybe, what he meant was like, shared obsession makes for a strong bond. Least I think that’s why all us everyday kids liked to say it.

I landed the jump over Dustin clean as a whistle and you know, just leaned back, coasted. I tried not to, but I did smile. I was done for the day after that. The whole damn park was done after that, because it wasn’t gonna get better than that for any of us. There’s an etiquette to the bowl, like a rolling language, and the everyday kids knew we were done for the day. Dustin was jumping up and down, the little man was losing his mind. And Abelino, who was sort of my first mate, we started skipping school together at like, eleven, he was turned around and standing on a railing and yelling something at the whole crowd of onlookers. There were a lot of them, over a hundred maybe, because the sun was about to set. You’ve never seen a sunset unless you’ve seen the sun go down at the edge of the world with kids skating and smoking and being all eternal and shit. Mitch, who was really Violet Mitchell, but refused to let any of us call her Violet, was just looking over at me, shaking her head and smiling. She was pretty in the way all Mexican girls are, like they’re a hundred years older than you and ten years younger at the same time. She was annoyed that I was showing off, but she was digging it too. Her Mom was illegal and her Dad was Irish Catholic, a motorcycle surf guy who did grip work at the movie studios or something. Her smile was a natural wonder to rival even the aforementioned sunset. The rest of the seaside lost boys were already moving toward the bench where they knew my victory lap would wrap up. As I came up out of the bowl and snagged my shirt and phone from where I had tossed them, I kept rolling and checked my texts, just because I’m cocky. When I looked up, I glanced out and saw Levi for the first time. My world changed. His dark hair was blowing down into his eyes and kind of half nodded. I don’t know if I believe in God, but part of what blows me away about the universe is that it seems so frail and so complex at the same time. So there has to be some unifying force, right? Look what happens when you split an atom. Levi was like the universe – frail, complex and perfect beyond my ability to understand. He had dark eyes too, and was thin, and wore a jean jacket. I can remember a thousand more things, but I’ll just say that, I think.

Skinning the palms of your hands sucks so bad. And when I fell, I kicked my board backwards and it hit a lady who didn’t speak any English and she was squealing and holding her knee, and her husband was yelling and pointing with my board. My bandana had gone askew and I pulled it down from my forehead so that it hung around my neck. I stood up and jogged over to the man. I took the deck, mouthing a sorry, and scanned the crowd for Levi. I stood there, blood dripping from my elbow, and behind me I knew the sun was setting in raging pinks and oranges across the Pacific, but I didn’t even turn around. I was looking for the boy with the dark hair and moody eyes who held the whole universe inside him, he was gone.

*********

Soak up more of this strange California sun in SN13 | The Ides of March.

Comments

comments