Waves

“Do you mind if I give it a try?” He pointed to my skateboard, and I nodded. He pushed off of his right foot, which was different from me. I was confused, but waited for him to do something. In the dead of winter in Naples, you could see your breath in a thick cloud of smoke if you even breathed through your nose. The board made a loud crack, and he popped the piece of wood off the ground. The Chad Fernandez World Industries graphic board with Venture trucks and Spitfire wheels went higher than anyone I’d seen do an ollie. He then powerslid on the crusty inlet of the culdesac. The board on asphalt shrieked in the quiet neighborhood. We spent the rest of the afternoon trading tricks on flat ground until the sun went down. His name was [unnamed]. He was ten years older than me, and he had moved into the apartment above mine.

*

[unnamed] invited me over to his parents’ apartment upstairs. His mom was skeptical of a ten year old kid hanging out with her twenty year old son. “Don’t make too much noise,” she said. She scowled then went to her room. When I entered [unnamed]’s room, it was a mirror of mine. It had a bunkbed, except his was white and metal. He shared it with his older brother, who was at work. “You ever try Red Bull?” He held up the can with the red bull and blue and silver design. “It gives you wings!” He poured me a cup, and he handed it to me. I took a sip. It reminded me of orange soda, but a kick fizzier. I gulped it down.

He turned on his computer. He played a video of a surfer charging at a wave. “This is Kelly Slater,” he said. “He’s the greatest.” Slater danced on the waves. He conquered the wave with style and grace. He charged through the wave tunnels. And just when you thought he wouldn’t make it, he would make it out in time before the tunnel closed out. [unnamed] showed me more clips that were similar. Slater carved each wave. But sometimes he ate it. To eat it: to bail or to go for it and have a wave come tumbling down on you. The closest I had ever felt to eating it was when a tiny rock would make my wheels come to a halting stop. I would fly off my board and catch myself, usually the result being my wrists were sprained or a scrape on my arms.

[unnamed] talked about his surf crew when he lived in Japan. He went to grab a photoalbum of snapshots from his past. He and his family had moved to Italy from Yokosuka. He used to surf with his friends, starting days early and picking the right type of wetsuit for the beaches they would travel. Some of his friends still lived there. There was even a mysterious woman that I noticed in most of the pictures. I had my crushes, so even at that age I had a feeling that this person was special. “Who’s that?” I asked. He laughed and put the photo back to the bottom of the pile. (“I was born in Yokosuka,” I said. )

When we weren’t watching surf videos, we listened to played video games in their living room. He had an N64. I was happy to play it, because my brother had a PlayStation. On it was “Wayne’s Gretzky’s 3D Hockey.” There was a pattern to playing this game. I caught onto it fast, toying with the controller’s joystick to glide my hockey character across the television screen. “Hat trick!” appeared in bold red letters as the flashing puck entered the net. We both yelled. His mom entered the living room. “You’re being too loud, you have to go.” I laughed and apologized to Auntie. “I’ll see you later man,” I told TJ.

Another time we listened to music on his computer. “Have you heard this song?” he asked. The opening rift of the song was a guitar solo intro with a staccato-like rhythm. It immediately sounded like something that I had heard in Hawaii. The singer sang, “You’ve got to come original, you’ve got to come original . . .” [unnamed] got in a groove, swaying to the rhythm. “You hear that man, you have to come original!” I laughed and nodded my head. “Never forget that.” He played more of the music he had in his library, but that song in particular put me in a daydream of what would have happened if I had stayed and never left Hawaii. I imagined that I would still be in the court with my friends playing a game of pick up basketball and running up hills to search for empty pillboxes. As he turned up the volume, there was a knock on his door. “You’re being too loud again,” his mom said. That was my cue to go.

We even watched Surf Ninjas. For every Filipino boy, this movie seems to be the defining moment where one sees themselves on screen. The movie starts with a moment of self-discovery where Ernie Reyes, Jr. and his little kid brother are informed that they are royalty, that they come from the Asian kingdom of Patusan. After their parents are killed during a bloody coup, the boys are saved by their trusty uncle and are adopted by their current stepfather. Relocated in sunny California, spending most of their days surfing, their uncle, now with an eyepatch, arrives on the scene to inform them that they are in trouble. Of course, Ernie Reyes, Jr. denies this claim. It’s not until a series of trials (fights, arguments, and discomfort) is when he accepts that he is royalty. He overcomes his inability to fight in combat by believing that he can. Now he is ready to fight for the kingdom that was stolen from him. The movie ends with an epic surf session where Ernie teaches his loyal people of lost Patusan how to ride waves. They all surf toward the island he was born. After an epic brawl, he claims his throne as King and as first order dissolves his monarchy and gives the government to the people. Ernie Reyes, Jr., the main character of the movie, was a spitting image of [unnamed]. “That looks like you,” I said. He laughed and brushed it off.

As spring came around, I began seeing less of [unnamed]. I skated in front of the apartment complex that I lived in, hoping that he would come around. Sooner or later, I stopped waiting and ventured to the basketball court nearby. There were always pick up games happening, and I started off by watching everyone play as I sat on my skateboard. One time, a kid asked if I wanted to join. “I don’t play basketball,” I said. But he assured me that it would only be to fill in the third spot of the “3v3” game. Slowly but surely, I showed up to the basketball court without my skateboard. Still, I felt in my legs that I should be doing ollies and faux-board slides on the sticky curbs, but I didn’t want to do it alone.