In Skater's Time
Chapter 17 Unwind
I stood five feet away, holding Paul's board as well as my own. The tall guy who insulted us way busy trying to escape his tormentor but Paul continued to stalk him. I watched the streets for an arriving police car, realizing the jail was right behind the theaters and too close for comfort.
"I wasn't talking to you," the guy blurted out. "I was talking to him."
His finger raised past Paul's shoulder to point at me and I felt suddenly drawn into the conflict against my will. I didn't want to fight the guy. Was I supposed to become aggressive and angry and attack someone for ignorance, and wouldn't that then make me as ignorant as they were?
I wasn't going to fight anyone if I could avoid it. I wasn't a fighter.
"Him?" Paul bellowed, and people in the line for the late movies all turned to examine the disturbance that so impolitely interrupted their evening. "You weren't talking to me?"
"No! No! I said it to him. I was talking to the little guy you were with."
I was offended. I wasn't all that little. Who the fuck was he?
"Oh, you said it to him?"
"Yeah, to him, to him, not to you," the guy defended his position with enthusiasm and in desperation as long as it seemed to be working, which wasn't long.
"Then you were talking to me," Paul said abruptly. "He's my lover. You insulted my lover? Now you've really pissed me off."
I recoiled at the word and people became more aware of the disagreement and they looked over the angry boy's lover to see just what the argument was over. I felt about three feet tall and I wanted to get out of there. I kept looking for the cops and hearing the clang of the jail door.
"I see it this way. You got maybe two options asshole. You eat your words and tell my lover you're sorry for what you said, or this fairy is going to kick your ass all over this parking lot."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it," the guy said in a wavering voice. He seemed desperate for escape but seemed too fearful to run.
"Oh!" Paul said, backing up a step. "You're sorry? Well, that's really good then. Why didn't you say that right away?"
"I ah, we...."
The boy stammered as Paul brushed him off like he was concerned for his well being.
"You're kind off cute," Paul said as the man backed away. "You and your friends enjoy the movie. It's nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you again some time."
Paul turned his back on the guy and walked toward me, snatching his board out of my grasp but not letting it hit the ground. I followed him across the parking lot back toward Main Street. I looked over my shoulder and the guy was still standing where Paul left him, dumb founded. His two friends stood several feet away, unmoved. The crowd all watched our retreat. I had to hurry to catch up with Paul but he was not in a talking mood and so I followed him back to the house, board in hand, walking faster than I liked.
We went in the back door and the house was silent. Paul had not looked at me or spoken to me sense the confrontation ten minutes before. I didn't know what to make of him but things had changed quickly. I thought I should go home but I didn't know how.
Kenny and Danny were apparently gone and we ended up in Paul's room. He pulled off his shirt and went over to his sound system and popped in a cassette after rummaging through his collection. The music seemed harsh until I listened to it and then it was deep and soulful and filled with horns and banging pianos. It was jazz but I wasn't familiar with it. Paul fell back on his bed and thrust his hands behind his head and looked at the bottom of the top bunk. I could have been elsewhere and he wouldn't have noticed. I felt abandoned and out of place. I had no idea what was going on inside his head.
I leaned my board next to his after a few minutes and sat on the foot of his bed, trying not to get in the way. I watched his chest as his eyes stayed on the bunk above him. I was starting to feel like he didn't want me there. I had caused it all to happen. If I'd only kept my hands off him there would have been no insult.
"You didn't have to do that," I finally said, looking cautiously in his direction as I sat with my hands folded between my knees.
His eyes were immediately on me. He considered me for a few long minutes and then swung his feet around me and turned down the music to a level where we could speak without a shout.
"Tea?" He asked without looking.
"Yeah?" I said, sitting in place as he left the room.
I thought of leaving then. I'd just go out the door and never come back. I wasn't sure what the problem was but it seemed to be me. Why had he said what he said if he was pissed off because of what I did?
He thrust the glass at me while I was somewhere else. I was startled and took the glass and he plopped back onto the bed, being careful not to spill the tea or let his legs touch me. He sipped from the glass before dropping his head back into the pillow.
"Yes I did."
"It's only a word. If you're going to fight every guy that uses that word, you'll be fighting forever," I reasoned.
"Doesn't matter. It's a weapon, Z. He used it on us."
"A weapon? That's a lot for such a little word. It's only three letters. A word can't hurt you."
"A word is as deadly as an ax or a chainsaw. It's meant to cut us down, torment our souls, make us feel like we aren't as good as them. It's a weapon guys like that use on guys like us, because they believe they're better than we are simply because they procreate. They think using it elevates them and diminishes us."
"He did all that by calling us fags?"
What else was there for me to say? In a way I suppose he was right. That word was meant to hurt someone. The people that used it were only interested in cutting someone else down. With six billion people in the world I hardly saw procreation as a feat of any major significance but Paul saw beyond my little world where I had stayed safely protected all my life and in my place as well. I still didn't want to fight about it.
I had never done anything in Phoenix because of that word and all that it meant. My entire life had been about not being called that word by anyone that mattered to me. I suppose, if I had been back home in the midst of my friends and someone had called me a fag, it would have been a serious insult that couldn't be ignored.
In El Cajon, where I was just another face in a sea of faces, I could let the world slid. I didn't know those guys and they didn't know me. This was Paul's home and it was where he grew up, lived, and roamed, and it was important to him that he not be insulted. I just didn't like the idea of fighting over it.
"He'll think twice before he uses that word again. So will his friends."
"Yeah, and fifty peope standing out in front of the theater too," I observed.
"I guess I did create a scene."
"You might say that."
"I was skinnier than Kenny. He's been bigger an me since I was ten, taller, you know. I felt like a runt. I was nobody in school. No one noticed I was there and everyone knew Kenny. When I was sixteen, I started lifting. I figured if I got big enough, people would have to see me, notice me, you know.
"One day about a year later I was kicking a soccer ball around and another kid says I should come out for the team. I wasn't much of an athlete. I had never played anything but pickup ball, but I learned fast. I could hold my own and I was playing on the varsity by the end of my junior year. That made me feel pretty neat. I was a fuckin' jock. To other people anyway. I'd always been a geek, a stupid one.
"My senior year I was way bigger, stronger, even confident because I worked at it by then. We did pretty good again other teams. I met some guys up at SDSU and I figured out what I was with a little help from them. I wouldn't recommend it, but it worked for me. I had a sense that I was okay after that.
"Z, I'm still that skinny little kid."
"What? Get real. You're... You're... You're not skinny."
"See! What you see is the package I built around my skinny side."
"It's hard to miss that package."
"Quit equating everything to sex. You see what I look like on the outside. You can't see who I am on the inside. There's only one way you find out what's inside me."
"How's that?" I asked like a dope.
"You get me to fall in love with you for one," he said, getting his eyes on me for more than a glance for the first time since we got back. "I'm sorry I upset you. I'm not sorry I backed that asshole down though.
"You've got to know who I am. If you don't like me the way I am then, I'll try to change but I don't think I can. I don't think I can ever let someone insult you without wanting to kick their ass."
I felt self conscious and uncomfortable as he leaned his leg against my back. I didn't feel like I wanted to leave any more. I didn't feel like he felt. I didn't want to fight anyone. I thought fighting only got you more fighting and sooner or later you've got to use reason or kill each other and I wasn't up to killing anyone.
"I'm still that skinny little kid on the inside, Z. Only I can see what's in the mirror looking out at me. I've heard of guys who said they were fat when they were young. You know, fat enough they got picked on and bullied for it. No matter how tall and lean and handsome they get, they'll always be that little fat kid inside, you know. It's like that for me. I'll probably always feel like that skinny kid no matter what I look like. I was scared when I confronted him but I knew what he saw when he looked at me. It's not what I see or think but I knew what he saw."
"So what if he had wanted to fight about it?" I said, seeking the moment of truth in our conversation.
"I'd have kicked his ass! I wouldn't back down about that. At worst he'd kick my ass but I'd make sure I hurt him even if he did. He'd think twice before he wanted to tangle with me again."
He would have. I knew that. I knew it had a hell of a lot more to do with him than it had to do with me, but I had no doubt that Paul would fight anyone that called him that. I don't know what it was like for black men, who were called the N word, but I suspected that there came a point in time when one of them stood up and said, "Enough! You will no longer call me that awful name", and that one black man fought every time he heard the word used on him. Then another black man did that, and another, until pretty soon the N word became what it really was the entire time.
I couldn't help but wonder if one day it would be the same for the F word, and I don't mean fuck. One day would gay men finally say, "Enough"?
"So, if you're going to stick around you should know who I am. I don't want to loose you trying to pretend I'm someone else, you know. I'd rather you leave me for being the asshole I am than have you leave me for being the asshole I'm pretending to be."
Somehow Paul's words struck me as funny and I started laughing. He wasn't an asshole. He was probably the first person that ever told me what was going on inside of him. I mean the real stuff. He did that by action and by his words. I didn't have much doubt about whom Paul was and that he was for real. I just didn't know if he was for me.
"You're not an asshole. I don't know what you are but it isn't an asshole. Every time I think I'm starting to figure you out, you throw something else into the pot. Why did you call me that?"
"What?" Paul asked.
"Your lover? You told him we were lovers. I don't know you Paul. I'm trying to get to know you. How can we be lovers until I do?"
"Oh, you know Dart real well, right? I mean once you get to know me that well, we'll really be cooking then. You'll get right down on your knees for me too, right?"
"Why do you keep bringing him up. I don't like Dart the same way I like you. It's different with him. I just like... you know what I like. It's the way I like him is all."
"...And you don't like me the way you like him so you can't do that to me, right?"
That hurt.
"Who was it that dragged me out of here when I was getting ready to do just that. Before the Friday night fights began that is."
"Well, I was trying to prove a point."
"What?"
"I don't remember."
"You're weird," I said, shaking my head.
"That's a shared opinion. I think you vote with the majority on that one. I never claimed to be genius material. I don't know what I'm doing but I'm not afraid to admit it."
I figured it all came down to a chemical reaction to another boy. Each time I saw Dart I thought of only one thing. When I thought of Paul, I thought of everything. I thought of how easy it would be to get hurt by Paul and how much I wanted more, not knowing what more there was.
"You know, you conveniently turn this all around to me sucking off Dart every time we get into a serious conversation and that's not what went on tonight, Paul. I won't fight guys because they're ignorant."
"I will when they're trying to hurt me."
"What's that mean?"
"Don't ask me to be you and I won't ask you to be me."
"Why does that make sense to me and why didn't I think of it?"
"Do you dance?"
"Dance? Do I dance? Paul!"
"I didn't think so. I'll show you."
"Show me what?"
"How to dance."
Paul went to the stereo and pulled out the cassette as he searched for another one to replace it. The music came up and it was a little more predictable. He came over to me and pulled me into his arms without any help from me.
"Just loosen up and follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"Shut up. Keep your mind on your feet and your feet off mine if you can. Now, you can't always follow. Women expect you to lead, so I'll let you lead once you learn to follow."
"What?"
"Shut up and listen to the music and just give yourself to me."
"Fat chance."
"Well, try, anyway. Just lean into my body and hold on. You're not bad. You'll pick it right up. You are following me already." "I couldn't follow you if I tried."
I could smell Paul and the smell filled my brain. I'd follow him if I didn't pass out first because his smell was intoxicating. His bare chest kept coming into play and the closer I got the hotter it got, not to mention me. Our best parts were coming together as well in a mixture of slow and grinding motions that seemed to match the music in some bestial way that only intensified what I wanted to do to him.
"Why are you making me do this?" I asked.
"I wanted to hold you is all," he said softly with his lips brushing against my ear.
"Oh!" I said. "I'd have done what you wanted before we left to go prove our manhood to the world."
"I know you would have."
"Isn't it what you wanted? For me to do to you what I do to Dart? You keep bringing that up."
"Yes!"
"Why didn't you let me do it then?"
"I don't know. I wanted to prove something."
"Prove what? To who?"
"To you. To me. Prove what I feel for you isn't about getting anything off of you."
"You don't want to... do that any more? I will, you know. I want to, Paul. If you'd just slow down so we can. I can't do it while we dance."
"I know. Let's dance."
"Okay. Let me take my shirt off. It's hot in here."
"Yeah," he said, watching me strip out of my shirt.
"You're enjoying it?"
"How can you tell?"
"Z, you advertise what's on your mind. I know when you're seriously in the mood. I like your body."
"You don't?"
"Okay, I don't like your body."
"You don't know when I'm in the mood."
"Oh, yes I do and you are in the mood."
"Paul!"
"Just dance with me and quit being difficult," he said, as we moved across the floor in a less suggestive way.
I rested my head on his shoulder and made sure our chests were in constant contact as he enveloped me in his arms. I wasn't sure I knew any more about dancing but I was getting good at feeling him up. He seemed hypnotized by the music and our proximity as we moved together in the small room for what seemed like a long time.
"Hey, Kenny, here they are. Lovebirds," Danny mocked as he came to the door with his clothes on. It was the first time I'd seen him dressed and he looked twelve years old and a little like an alter boy, well, that might be the wrong image, but he looked clean and sweet and innocent.
"We're home," Kenny said, standing behind Danny in the doorway. "Not that you can be bothered. So much for that threesome you wanted, Danny Boy. We'll take Pop's room and you can... well, have privacy."
Paul said nothing and our motion didn't stop. He leaned his face down to my shoulder, as the music once more became the center of all life in the room.
Dancing wasn't so bad.
"What do you want, Paul," I asked, after a long period when we ground our hips together in a motion that set me on fire and had me burning to get down to business.
I wanted to get him off his feet and onto his back where I could get a hold on him. Sex had always been a sudden affair for me, when Dart showed up or Gordo came by, and there was the compulsive act and then the emptiness that followed with nothing in-between times but fantasy. This time we were working up to it together, albeit in a totally sexual way, although neither of us had touched the other where it could do us the most good yet, but I was anxious to change that.
"Take you to school and take you to one of the dances and dance with you like this. With our shirts on of course."
"What?" I said, not being nearly there.
"I want to show everyone. I want them to see you. I want them to know I love you. The way they can all do with their girlfriends. I want to be able to do that."
"Paul, you want to get us shot? There are people that would gladly kill us for less."
"No, I want to be free to express my feelings. I want to be able to go out in public without the fear of getting shot. You asked me what I wanted. I just told you."
"That's not what I had in mind. I don't understand you," I said, losing my train of thought and my erection.
"That makes two of us but you did ask."
"I had something a bit more immediate in mind. Now you've gone and ruined it. I want to have sex with you. I want to get naked with you. I thought that's what you wanted."
"Yeah, I'm pretty good at that. Ruining things."
"Did you mean what you just said? That's not the first time you've mentioned that tonight."
"Which part?"
"Paul, you just said you loved me? Do you love me or is this just part of you wanting to do stuff in front of people at your school?"
"That's not what I said. I said I wanted to show everyone that I love you. Yes, I do but I've loved you since I first saw you and I don't expect you to believe that one. You don't know how hard it was seeing you with Dart."
"I know how hard it is now," I said.
"Z, I'm trying to be nice. It's not just about hardons and getting off. I can get off with lots of guys."
"Stop being so nice. You haven't got off with me yet."
"No."
"I want you to."
"I know you do. I love you, Z."
"You said that. So why not prove it to me?"
"I'm serious. You think this is just about a blow job or butt fucking. I can't do that with you unless you love me. I can't take the risk of jumping off the deep end and have you play me for a fool. It's different with you, Z."
"You think I'd do that?" I asked, trying to get where he was.
"Not intentionally, but the fact you can scares the bejesus out of me. I've been hurt. I've been hurt by guys I didn't feel all that close to. I can't imagine you hurting me and that scares me, because you can hurt me like no one ever could. You can hurt me bad."
"I wouldn't."
"I know you say that. But it scares me to feel the way I do about you. I've never felt this way before."
The dancing had stopped and we stood in the middle of the room talking, his chest shinned in the sparse light from the sweat we had created. His Spandex stood out in a very inviting way and I wanted him but each time it was time to get with him, there was yet another roadblock to love. I wasn't in love with Paul though I thought I loved him and who he was and who he was trying to be.
Paul was as real as he could be and I wanted to be with him.
Earlier that evening I wanted to escape the whirlwind that he created around himself, but it was who he was, and I loved that, but it was all too new for me to process those feelings into being in love. Even the word scared me, and I imagine it was more than the word that scared him, because Paul had been around and he got tough when he needed to get tough, so there was way more to love than I knew about and it scared both of us.
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