The Return of; WILD RIDERZ OF BOARDZ
"...But that's the way I like it baby, I don't want to live forever!"
then I turned around and walked out the door, slamming it behind me, and her out of my life. I have the
habit of quoting hot-rock lyrics whenever overdosing on adrenalin. It was the last straw though. I wasn't
going to change my act for her. Not for nobody. I don't want to live forever. I don't want to slow down.
I skated across the street to visit Blade's mom. I had promised myself to drop in and cheer her up
whenever I was in the area. She took it really hard when the man in the slick military uniform brought the
news of Blade's death: "It is with deepest regret that I must inform you of the death of your son, James
Simon Bladen. He died valiantly, brave and unafraid; for his country. On the evening of..." The officer then
left Mrs. Bladen with her grief. He walked out of her life, he had done his job.
I was there. And somehow I felt the man in the uniform coming. A har-
binger of the news of death always sends out a chill. Marla Bladen was de-
stroyed. A fire raged inside her soul, burning away all of the life inside her
body. Her soul then slowly was turned to ice. Dormancy. The flames
licked at her heart, time after time. It was as if I was watching her die. This
lady, this beautiful human being was transformed before my eyes, into a
hollow shell. Her lips were pulled tight holding back a scream of agony
that would for sure blow the walls away. She made no sound other than the
sniffling that comes with sorrow. But, the scream she held back, it was as
though I could hear it and feel it.
She ran into Blade's room and just stood there right in the middle. I
came in, eight to ten steps behind her. It happened. The power that kept
her lips synched, disappeared as she let out a long sorrowful moan and col-
lapsed into a furious sobbing heap. My heart was now at my throat and I
was feeling weak. I still managed to drag her up onto Blade's bed. I held
her close and tried to console and comfort her. She slammed her cheek to
my shoulder and put her arms around me giving me an intense "bear-hug"
that almost broke my back. She let out another moan. She was in pain, so
was I. It hurts to live. It hurts to die. "What's in between?" I thought.
"Where's my happiness? Am I happy when I skate, or am I just content?"
She cried all that night and I sat with her all that night. Ever since then,
the glow of life has left her eyes and face, never to return. Marla had
changed.
For weeks I felt numb inside, feeling, as if my internal organs had died
and were just lying inside of me. Dead and festering. It hurt, it took away
my hunger, my energy, my will power and patience. I didn't want to turn
hollow. I thought of the last time I saw Blade. He was home on leave, be-
fore he was to be shipped out:
"Shipped out? To where? Shipped out sounds like if you were some sort
of packaged merchandise."
"It ain't that bad Eddy-Boy. I'll be back here in no time. I'm on the
three-year plan," he said, sitting on the floor, cynching up his black Con-
verse. "They won't tell us where we're going but the buzz around Camp
Lejeune is that the target is the Middle East."
"Jesus Christ, Blade, our guys are dropping dead left and right over
there. You remember Mary Anne Chavez? Her cousin bought it two
months ago. And Alan Marclay, you remember him, he was B.M.O.C.
back in high school. He died in a rocket attack."
"Hey, quit tryin' to cheer me up, alright?"
"Yeah, sorry. That's the last thing you want to hear. Right?"
"C'mon, let's go. I haven't skated in eight months. I want to ride."
We pumped and rough-rided down the street a good three or four miles
at a full throttle clip. Rounding one tight corner just right put us in front of
the grocery store. On the front door was taped a small American flag with
a rose pinned to it. We bought a few cokes from the graying clerk, his
eyelids red and puffy around glazed brown eyes. The flag, the eyes, the
rose. We didn't say anything, paid and left.
"I feel like a target," Blade said as we sat on our boards in the shade of
a big tree. He slugged down a few carbonated ounces of the syrupy legal
drug.
"So, how are you and Naomi getting along? Do you still see her?"
"Yeah," I said, "But she's been ragging on me heavily. She doesn't like
me to skateboard anymore. Sure it was alright two years ago. It was a
novelty then, something new. I guess she's impressionable now, she's
matured a little and the life of a skater's girlfriend isn't exactly what she
has in mind. Now she wants to change me, make me stop skating, wear
nicer clothes and act conservative. Basically the novelty has worn off. But
for her, not for me. I'm born to skate, I'll skate until I can't anymore.
Yeah, she's getting to the end of the line on my railway."
"It can't be that bad, can it?"
"It's pretty bad. Sometimes, I can't even deal with it. I've practically
bent over backwards for her. You know I don't work enough to make
much money. Still, when I can, I work a little extra hard to afford some-
thing for her. It takes a lot for me to do that. She'll break my back."
"Do you love her or something?"
"Well, yah, uh, no. Shit, I don't know anymore. Anyway, I give her a
little and she wants more. She wants to tie me down, even though we know
we're not going to spend forever together. Her parents are sending her
away to college, so who knows what'll happen then? I don't understand
her. Why has she changed like that? One day it's all cool and normal and
the next is like she's repeating a lecture she got from her parents on how
lame I am and how I act and dress. Shit, I never asked them to go out with
me. I don't kiss them, but I like her and I don't know what to do."
"Yeah you do, you're just afraid to do it. So in the meantime, let's go
skate. Is the Savings and Loan still rippable?" Blade belched on his last
gulp.
"You know," I stood up and threw my board out towards the street, ran
and hopped on. "I haven't skated there in a few months."
"She really is affecting you Eddy."
"Shut-up."
"O.K."
I knocked on the door and walked in. Lame, Blade's old cat was in the
kitchen leaning against the fridge. Lame meowed, but it sounded like a
rock in a garbage disposal. That's why Blade named it Lame. The cat
never learned to be like the stereotyped cat. I guess that's why we liked
Lame so much. He was just like us. Or maybe we were just like him. I
straightened out the kitchen, washed and put away the dishes.
I didn't notice the music at first, but after I finished in the kitchen, I took.
notice. It came from back in Blade's room. I could hear the words.
"Things don't seem to be as easy as they used to be. It's getting harder
everyday. Think of better things to say, about what's going on around you
and what's happening inside you. When it's time to change you won't
know how. It won't matter years from now..."
Standing in the doorway, I looked into Blade's old room and it still
looked the same. Marla was kneeling in front of Blade's stereo, cueing up
another song. She looked up at me with watery eyes. "You know, Eddy-
Boy, this used to be Blade's favorite recording. I've spent all morning lis-
tening to all of his records trying to find this one. He played this almost
everyday." Her fingers trembled slightly as her thumb lowered the tone
arm towards the musical grooves. It landed somewhat into the song. It
took a few moments before I realized what band it was.
"...saw the world go up in flames, and I smiled and stood there watch-
ing but it doesn't seem like this is real it's just the way I feel, I don't know
why. Well, I've learned from my mistakes this time I will escape, I'm too
young to DIE!"
On that note, Marla cupped her hand over her mouth and nose and her
eyes watered up even more. "He tried to live by those words. He tried to
live. Oh, why couldn't he have been like you Eddy? Why couldn't he just
stay home and do what he really wanted to do? Why? Oh Jimmy Simon,
you God-damned bastard! Why did you have to leave me?"
Reaching down, I squeezed her shoulder then helped her up to her feet
and into the kitchen. I poured her a glass of orange juice and sat down fac-
ing the window to the backyard. Leaning against the garage was what
was left of the old quarter pipe on which Blade had taught me my first ollie
and my first hand plant. I remembered how just before Marla was going to
drive him to the airport, we stood out there in the backyard throwing rocks
over the fence:
"Yeah Eddy, I'm not too sure about this military deal. I have no idea
what tomorrow will bring. Hey, wait!" Blade ran over the trash can, pulled
out an empty NEHI bottle, ran over, placed it on the fence and jetted back
by my side. "Yeah, it's about time I did something for my mom. She's put
up with my shit for twenty years. I figure I can save up enough money to
cement over the whole backyard, paint up the house and help her out with
a little cash here and there. Hell at the same time. I might as well build a
decent half pipe back here. Yeah, that's what I'll do, then, after I get dis-
charged, we'll have all-night private sessions forever, Eddy-Boy, just you
and me. Can you imagine that? We wouldn't need anything else."
Continued on page 5
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