I watched Free grow as Brenda helped him study for his GED. I didn't know he was outgrowing me. I didn't know enough to know that sometimes love ended. It wasn't a wrenching knockdown drag out end, but a gentle quiet coasting to an end. I was watching Free coast away from me.

Free woke something inside me that I didn't know was there. Through Free, I saw the moon and the stars more clearly. My universe grew large enough to let love in, glorious, glorious love, glorious, glorious Free.

When Free found the Navy, he found a home. Free found a place where he belonged, where they wanted him. Being little more than a kid, I couldn't give him what the Navy could, but he needed his GED to join.

Living without Free, while still loving him, created emptiness. I felt his loss more acutely than I ever felt anything. I wanted him to be happy. I hadn't bargained on how miserable his happiness could make me.

I suppose, I was learning as Free learned in the back of Hitchcock's. I listened as Brenda, Mr Hitchcock's daughter, asked Free questions he answered. Studying to be a teacher, Free was Brenda's first student.

Having Free in the market where I worked was a comfort. I hated being away from the boy I loved. Mr Hitchcock encouraged Free, as he encouraged me to do things that made me happy.

I was there to watch Free ride away on a gray Navy bus. Free was heading off to Navy training. It was then that I realized, Free was sailing right out of my life.

I told myself, it won't be forever, but it was, and Free coasted away, and I was alone again. I tried to hold on, but Free was gone, and I had nothing to hold on to.

For most of my life I feared love would never find me. Had my parents not been moving to California, I likely wouldn't have gone with them. They offered to find me a family I could live with to finish high school in the place where I started high school.

They didn't want me to feel alone in a new place for my final year of school, but the new place was California. If you've ever experienced a long Massachusetts winter, a Southern California winter is a piece of cake.

The word California was all they had to say. I listened to the Beach Boys songs since forever. The Golden State was the land of milk and honey. It was the land of sun, surf and beautiful, beautiful boys.

I dreamed of surfing and basking in the California sun. I was a skater. I ran with skaters back home. I knew better than to watch my friends too closely. What you didn't want was to have your name associated with the queer deal. If it was, you were certain to get a kiss, but it was the kiss of death for any friendships.

I'd fancied the boys I ran with since I was nine and I saw my friends naked in a bathhouse on a trip to the Atlantic Ocean. I'd felt their attraction since forever, but once I'd seen them getting into their bathing suits, I never forgot how they looked. Boys came in all varieties and sizes. Some boys were better than others to imagine when I was alone.

At seventeen, I was trapped with the same boys I'd known most of my life. To be too friendly was to assure there would be talk. When you are with the only boys you know, you need to be careful, especially if you like them more than is tolerated where I lived.

Starting over in California in my senior year of high school meant no connection to anyone. Not worrying about friends, I didn't have if I let a boy know that I liked him. The risk was small and I might make out.

I'd stay away from closets in California. I wouldn't be too obvious, but obvious enough to have some physical contact with other boys. Because it never rains in Southern California. The sun is always shining, and boys are on display in a way boys never are back home.

After the first year, and in love with Free, my life was better than it had ever been. Once Free was gone, I had to regroup. I was very much alone. During the time I was with Free, I wasn't with the skaters I knew by the time Free came along. I realized I needed to reconnect with the boys I knew and skated with.

Skip would have been easy to love, except Free just left me, and loving someone new wasn't on my mind. Skip was a good friend. He was in love with a boy he went to school with. We drove around looking for Chet before we headed north for the best surfing beaches.

I met Skip after Free went off to basic training in the Navy. Skip took me surfing. Over the next year, I learned how to surf. Skip came once and some times twice a week to take me surfing on California's beaches.

Before turning twenty, I surfed well enough not to look foolish doing it. Skip was a find and from the first time I saw him, I was attracted to him. We both had a lover we couldn't be with, but we could be with each other, and often were.

I knew better than fall in love with a boy who told me he wasn't available. I cared about Skip because he gave me what he told me I couldn't have. By the time we'd been seeing each other for a year, I felt love for Skip, even though he insisted he was in love with Chet.

*****

I feared I might never find love for much of my life, because of the queer deal. I'd been forced to swallow my feelings and desires for years. I wouldn't do that in California, where I had nothing to lose.

I heard stories about love. I read books about love. I watched movies depicting love. Was I capable of loving a boy? If I was, what did I need to do to find him?

I was a Massachusetts boy. I was used to boys who were bundled up most of the year. Until I went to middle school, I almost never saw a naked boy. I'd seen one erection by the time I was seventeen. It was my own. As much pleasure as I beat out of it, I longed to see one that wasn't my own.

You can't begin to imagine the future shock, after my parents moved me to California. Boys in California see how little they can get away with wearing. I've never seen a California boy bundled up. When I leave the house, I have a preoccupation with watching boys who are in abundance.

Boys in spandex without a shirt skate up and down the sidewalks. If you aren't familiar with Spandex, picture material that holds you so tightly that what's inside stands out. The astute wearer of Spandex watches for prying eyes wanting a peak at what's inside.

In Massachusetts, if you stare at a boy, you might get a knuckle sandwich. In California, stare at a boy's package, and you'll get a smile. I wouldn't call it a come on for a little action, but when I saw Gordo, his naturally muscular body and legs stood out, he saw me looking at him and he came over to where I stood.

Gordo's approach was simple.

"See something you like? I can give you a closeup if you like."

Gordo's playground was the bushes and behind buildings. He wanted to prove that what I was staring at was the real deal. As Spandex went, Gordo's hid nothing once his stood out.

I got my closeup all right. I left an impression on him he would soon forget, but I was new and my teeth tended to get in the way, even if Gordo's display was no more than average. I did my best to please him, and once he was done, his Spandex went up and Gordo skated away.

I knew California was going to offer opportunities that weren't available at home, and since I didn't know anyone, no one was going to bring up the queer deal when he saw me. A boy looking at another boy in California didn't get the same reaction as in Massachusetts. At least, Gordo didn't act at all put off.

It took time for me to learn the ropes and meet the skaters. Gordo was merely the first act in a play that the curtain just went up. I didn't know anything, but I intended to learn as fast as I could.

Since I got up close and personal with another boy, I wanted to try it again. Whether with Gordo or another skater, I wouldn't be as shy as I had been at first. I couldn't eat just one, and Gordo peaked my interest. He didn't last long and I was hoping for another boy as friendly as he was.

What I didn't anticipate from a boy who let me sample his goodies, was the fact he would skate into traffic with me hot on his trail. The screeching brakes, squealing tires, and noises that joined raised voices, not to mention extended middle fingers, added to the mayhem Gordo left in his wake.

I learned a valuable lesson from Gordo. You don't follow someone on a suicide run into traffic. I'd give Gordo a go more than once in my first few months in California, but I'd never follow him into traffic again. He was a hot guy but I had no desire to burn up in his wake.

Gordo did prove that hot studs were available, if you ran across one at the right time. As I matured, I became more confident, after my initial success. I'd gone further than I ever went before, and I planned to go back often. I'm sure there was homophobia out here, but it wasn't immediately noticeable.

I learned that love could easily be confused with lust. It was the mistake I made with Gordo. Love was more than a quickie in the bushes. Any boy who would get naked with me was worth considering as a lover, even if love had nothing to do with why a boy went into the bushes with me.

Losing my appetite for Gordo, once he proved he was suicidal, didn't mean I wouldn't be hungry the next time Gordo showed up. It's not like there were clear boundaries set for gay teens. All the messages said, no, don't be queer. What did that mean when you are queer?

Anyway, Gordo was hot. Having questions about his sanity didn't have anything to do with his willingness to perform. When you went hungry for as long as I did, you don't need prime rib, although Gordo could be described as prime.

I didn't know I didn't love Gordo. I never knew anyone the way I knew Gordo. He opened the door to meeting boys who would let me give them what for. California boys are tricky. By watching another boy's eyes, they can decide how far they want to go at any given time. At least they were thinking about sex, which was right up my alley.

Leaving Massachusetts boys behind meant learning new lessons about boys. It's not like I thought boys would be any different in California. Boys were boys wherever you found them.

California boys weren't as angry. They were more relaxed and easier to like. Did that mean boys weren't boys in California? I don't think it meant that. What it meant was, being queer wasn't as big a disadvantage out here. Boys were happy to know queer boys, who would give them what for when they wanted it.

I met John, Ace, and Andy. They made sure I saw what I needed to see to know they were friendly to boys like me. I wanted to see what they had to offer, because while I skated, I was likely to run into one or more of them, because they ran together. They seemed to know I would, which meant Gordo was talking.

The word was getting around, and skaters I didn't know stopped to talk to me while I sat on the patch of lawn by the mall. If he would, I could, and often did. There was no plan to discover love while I lusted after boys who would. Having boys was more than I had before, but Free was about to change all that.

I knew where skaters hung out and these boys were frisky with me when the mood struck one. Each was a bit different, while going down the road to satisfaction. It amazed me how friendly such boys could become.

I wasn't as hungry as I had been when I got to California. Being with Free gave me a clue to what I was missing out on. Free changed my focus. The first time I saw him I knew. What I knew wasn't that clear, but I knew this boy would take me to the promised land, and that's exactly what he did.

Once love had come and gone, I needed a new plan. Boys who would didn't interest me as much. Love woke something inside of me. Once I found it, there was no coming back. I'd gone beyond the beyond. I wasn't whole without Free. If I found love once, it was out there, and I'd find it again.

The game had changed. Boys who would weren't as interesting. One could be the one, but I was less likely to try a boy who was out for fun.

Love was serious business. Once you love, the casualness of sex is gone. I wanted it to be all it could be. I wanted it to be like it was with Free. He was gone, but the desire hadn't gone anywhere. It had blossomed and matured.

I'm not saying I wouldn't, because I would, but not as often as before. Which boy might reciprocate remained a mystery. You never knew which one might be after more than he lets on. The queer deal was complicated, and many boys didn't let on they had the same yearning that I had. I was looking for him.

The problem in California was the opposite of the problem in Massachusetts. Back home, there was a shortage of boys who would. Allowing other boys to know was dangerous. Out here, the boys that flipped my trigger were everywhere. With a stare, if you got a smile, you had permission to approach and see how far you might be invited to go. It was speculation until a touch didn't change a smile into a frown.

It was a different game now. It wasn't any fun doing a boy I'd seen once, and he wouldn't remember what I did for him way back when. The beaches where I surfed had opportunities to go half way there. I want to go all the way. That was the difference I knew. The desire for the casualness of sex was gone. It left with Free and returned with Skip.

Love was a state of mind. You couldn't go there alone. It's a state I wanted to be in. Could I live without love? Regardless of what I felt, I was alive with a life to live. I needed to figure out how to live and be happy while doing it.

Skip did drive into my life the year after Free left it. He had a surfboard on the roof of his Chevy. I had a surfboard. I'd never been surfing. I was dying to learn, and Skip offered to teach me.

It wasn't quite that easy. I hadn't seen Gordo in months. I ran into Gordo that morning, and I wasn't really going anywhere, so I went to MacDonald's with Gordo. It was better than going alone, and MacDonald's was okay by me. It was that chance meeting with Gordo that lead me to meeting Skip.

Skip drove into MacDonald's and Gordo waved. Skip came over to say hello to Gordo, but he ended up talking to me, and Gordo disappeared like he hadn't been there at all. I'm almost sure he was, but he was gone and Skip obviously surfed.

"I have a surfboard. I bought it with hopes I could learn how to surf. We're pretty far from the water, and I still have my board, but I've never been surfing."

"I surf," Skip said, looking at his surfboard. "I'll teach you if you like."

I regarded Skip as one of the more beautiful of the California boys. He had red hair. I hadn't seen any other boys with red hair. I liked red hair on nice looking boys. I loved the red hair on Skip. I left MacDonald's in the front seat of the Chevy. I felt great. I was going to finally go surfing. A beautiful boy I liked was going to teach me.

How cool was that? Not quite as cool as it sounded.

Life wasn't that easy. Before Skip took me surfing, we spent some time driving up and down the streets of El Cajon. Skip had heard the boy he loved was back in town.

"Chet lived with me his last two years of high school. We were best friends. He was a year ahead of me in school. My parents liked Chet. He left after he finished school. I heard he went to Los Angeles. Someone who knew us, had seen him dancing in a club in LA. Then, I heard he moved back here. He was working at a restaurant in El Cajon. That's when I started looking for him in El Cajon. If he went to find me, we moved a year after he left. I'm sure he is looking for me. We were pretty close," Skip advised me as we drove up one street and down another.

Skip told me that Chet was the boy he loved, and when he found him, they would pick up where they left off. As much as I liked Skip, once he warned me off of the idea of falling in love with him, I was satisfied by being with him, and it wasn't like we didn't have our moments.

Skip didn't mind sex at all. No matter how much he loved his friend, he had needs. I'd seen him need a few surfers at the beaches where we went. Once he took me home from our Wednesday of surfing, we spent time giving each other what for.

Once I knew how to surf, Skip kept taking me surfing, and after we surfed getting home in short order became my favorite thing. I loved Skip, but I knew not to fall in love with him, but what we did together equated to love in my mind. You didn't go as hot and heavy as we did and not become attached.

After more than a year, Skip and I were an item on Wednesdays. I wanted to be on the lookout for the boy who I could fall in love with, but not falling in love with Skip was as much fun as I ever had.

Somehow, our search for his friend, kept me from falling head over heels in love with him. I really wasn't seeing anyone else. We did meet surfers who were looking for someone who might help them out, but it was almost like a team sport, because if Skip made out, he tried to make sure I did too.

As confusing as this was, and because he told me not to love him, I didn't fall in love with Skip. I loved Skip. Sometimes I loved him and loved him again.

Life was very good after I met Skip. I wasn't sure what we were to each other, but every Wednesday and some Sundays, he came to take me surfing, and when I came home, he made sure we got enough of each other before he went on his way.

I didn't want to be with anyone else, but I did realize that I knew a lot of skaters in El Cajon, and it wouldn't hurt if I began to circulate after work. Skip furnished everything I needed, except for the most important thing. I wouldn't give up my chance to go surfing, but I could go out with other skaters.

When I met Free, I sat down across from him at the food court in the mall. I hadn't seen him before sitting down. When I looked at him, all the forces in the universe clicked into place. This was the boy I would fall in love with.

Skip could have been just like that if I didn't know better. Something clicked when I saw Skip close up. I heard the click. Skip didn't. What he heard or felt, I can't say. I spent more time with Skip in the last year than I spent with anyone. He seemed to enjoy my company. I certainly enjoyed his.

Learning to surf was one of the two big ideas I had in mind when I decided to move to California with my parents. Love, sex, togetherness with other boys was the other big deal I had it in mind to find.

After over a year, I realized there was a risk in letting Skip be my entire social life. I knew skaters and a few boys who didn't skate, but I hadn't been making any attempt to see anyone since I met Skip. It was easy being with a boy I loved, but what would happen after Skip found Chet?

Circulating a little more wouldn't hurt anything. That little patch of grass near the mall had been where I met with most of the skaters I knew. It was a nice place to take a break and get off your skateboard to chat. I was learning and growing as I turned nineteen and I was going on twenty.

Free liked making out. Kissing was a wrinkle I missed somehow. How I'd missed out on kissing was a mystery. Except, I was playing with boys who could and did, but no kissing please wasn't a request. It was the rule with straight boys.

It would be hard not to kiss boys once Free kissed me. Kissing, making out, was about as good as anything we did. It always lead to doing more and going further down the road to love.

If you fall in love, and you lose love, there is a tendency to believe that the pain is never ending. The power of love can be disabling, but it's that power that makes love worth another try. Being together for ever is a tall order, but if there's one person that you have loved, there is likely to be another one in the game.

Love can take you so high, you almost lose your mind. One love leaves you, after loving someone like Free, you know there has to be more love. I knew love. There was no doubt in my mind, I'd live to love again. I heard the click with Skip, and I could hold back on love, because he told me to.

I'd heard the click twice now. It was obvious I'd heard the click again. How many billions of people are there in this world? Love was out there, and I'd find it.

The other thing I had going for me, my curiosity. I was curious about a lot of boys. Many guys stayed at a certain distance from other boys. The boys who kept their distance from me, heard I would, but they didn't.

Coming out to a California skater like Gordo, got the word around.

"Z will, if you like that sort of thing."

I would. Boys who came to sit and chat didn't mind, or they were glad I did, but I wouldn't as often as I once did. I didn't need to go with boys I didn't love. Love and loving were in the eyes of the beholder.

Once I made up my mind to get back into circulation. I thought of the patch of grass when I often sat. Once I thought of that patch of grass, my thoughts went to Ralph. I didn't know if Ralph did or didn't, but I missed his company more than I missed anyone else. He was nice and too young to be on the street. Not only was he young, he didn't have much of a life.

Ralph said that the older skaters looked after him. I'd seen him with John and Ace, and they did seem to look after him. The thing I missed about Ralph, I took him home to eat dinner, get a shower, and I always had discarded clothes I save with the idea he might fit into them once I out grew them.

My parents talked about seeking to get custody of Ralph and giving him a home, but Ralph once had a home, and that was all the home he wanted much to do with. Whatever sent Ralph onto the street, I was told he was thirteen when I first met him. That was going on three years, and I worried about him.