I needed to be in the Pacific Ocean on Wednesday. I needed to be on my board, looking back at the horizon. I needed to see the blue of the sky and the white of the passing clouds. I needed to feel my board under me as I waited.

I wasn't as buoyant Wednesday when Skip came.

"Hi," Skip said.

He looked me over as if he expected to find something different.

"Morning," I said.

I looked out the window and watched the world pass me by. I wasn't going to cry or bemoan a fate worse than death. Free was gone. I would go on.

"Coffee?" Skip asked.

"Yeah, coffee," I said, watching the houses on my street disappear.

"Egg Mac Muffin?"

"No. Coffee is fine."

I sat dumping the sugar and creamer into my cup before stirring it and waiting for it to cool off enough before I sucked it down.

"Want to talk about it?" Skip asked.

"No," I said.

We drove out of MacDonalds and we went straight to the Interstate. We didn't drive up and down the streets of El Cajon. He didn't look for Chet. He almost always spent a few minutes in a search for Chet.

We got on the 5 heading north.

"Hermosa Beach okay?"

"Wherever you want to surf is fine."

I couldn't put a finger on what I was feeling. Certainly I was sad. Free had come and gone so quickly, it was hard to fathom he'd been here at all. Oh, I felt the aftermath of him being here, but my mood wasn't one of depression. No I didn't have anything to say. What can you say about lost love?

That love had been lost a long time ago. Free came to finalize it. He didn't have the heart to write it, and when his mother died, he came to make it final.

The sun was still shining. I wasn't a basket case, but I wasn't going to immediately be my usual effervescent self. If I ever effervesced, people would start taking my temperature.

"Free was here," I said as traffic motored past us.

The Chevy slowed for a minute before Skip found the gas pedal again.

"I thought he was in Japan, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Japan. His mom died. They sent him home to bury her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Z. That had to be hard on him."

"No, no. Not everyone has mothers like we have, Skip. I don't think he'd seen her since before he met me."

"He was living in the woods?"

"Yes, he had no home. He had a spot in the woods. He wasn't like most homeless skaters who are that way because they have a resistance to being told what to do and how to do it."

"Still sad. He came to see you?"

"Yeah, we spent the afternoon together."

"I'd like to have seen that," he said.

"I'm not still in love with him after all this time," I lied.

"Uh huh," Skip said, not believing a word of it. "And?"

"He met a Japanese boy. He came to tell me that."

"A bolt from the blue," Skip said.

"I'd figured that out. You've never seen Free, and he's even better looking now than he was when we were together. He lives in a different world. Of course someone was going to latch on to him."

"Takes guts to come tell your lover he isn't your lover anymore."

"We loved each other. That doesn't just go away. It might end. The feelings never go away unless the parting is a knock down drag out brawl," I said.

"I get that," Skip said.

I knew he was thinking about Chet, because he got quiet again.

It was another perfect day in paradise. I needed to get through what would be a too long day. I wanted to be on my board waiting, watching. I wanted to be in the water. There was no tonic like the Pacific Ocean. It could swallow you. I needed to be swallowed today. I needed to clear my mind. Breathe the sea air."

"Things okay at work?" Skip tried.

"I left a little work yesterday. I thought about going in today, but I want to surf. I need to surf today. Smell the sea. Be in it."

"Glad you didn't stand me up. I look forward to seeing you," Skip said in an unusual speech about me meaning something to him.

It was my turn to look him over. Maybe he was humoring me. He didn't look like it, but he never told me he looked forward to doing what we did together.

"You okay? I contemplate a time when you stop coming for me."

"You don't know how much I look forward to Wednesday, Z, when we surf."

I looked at the blue horizon and white fluffy clouds that sat above and beyond the San Onofre towers. They looked close enough to reach out and touch.

The traffic had thinned out.

"Have we gone to Hermosa before? I mean when we first surfed together. I don't remember the name."

"No, it's crowded, but it's off season and we should be okay. If there are too many people, we'll go up the coast a ways."

Hermosa Beach wasn't crowded. Skip usually knew where to go to find surf. I don't remember if there was surf or not. I didn't have much to say. My mind was still on Free's departure. What did it mean? What would happen next?"

As I sat on my board, my mind took a relaxed journey preceding Free and what it was like once Free was gone. It was a different kind of gone today. I thought about leaving the work I was responsible to do for Mr Hitchcock. He told me to go, and I would have gone if he hadn't let me go. My boss was kind.

I was already working at Hitchcock's, when I graduated from high school. My parents weren't sure I should be taking a job while I was still in school. I'd heard my father talking about the jobs he took when he was as young as fifteen. I was the next generation. My parents firmly believed that my life should be better than their lives were. I wanted to do something besides skate around my new neighborhood. I needed to know if I could hold down a job. I knew skaters that had never held a job.

My father went to interview Mr Hitchcock to be sure he knew what I was getting myself into. Since my father never brought the subject up, I knew he approved of Mr Hitchcock and our arrangement. Nothing more was said about my after school job that became full time employment after I graduated.

My parents wanted me to go to college, but my resistance put a stop to that conversation. I already had a job I liked. I had no idea what I would take if I did go back to school. I liked my job and I didn't want to be in school any longer. I'd endured twelve years of it and it was finally over.

I knew my father approved of our arrangement, because nothing else was said, and I was working full time. My parents would pay for my college, if and when I decided to go, but they never pressured me. They hadn't given up hope that I'd go, but my happiness was more important than their great expectations.

It was my first real job, if you didn't count delivering papers in the afternoon in Massachusetts. I left my paper route to one of my buds back home. It furnished me spending money when times weren't as good as they were now.

I enjoyed working at Hitchcock's, because Mr Hitchcock didn't treat me like an employee. Once I knew my job, I did it without needing to be told what I needed to do or when I needed to be doing it.

I knew the schedule that the market was on. When it was time for each delivery, I listened for the truck. I could go back and open the bay door before the driver backed up to it.

I liked the truck drivers. Most were working stiffs like me, but they went all over town, once they loaded their truck first thing each morning. They were all smiles when they saw me waiting to help unload.

"You know, I don't get help at every drop," a driver told me. "I like coming here, because you're such a big help."

It beat the hell out of sitting around doing nothing. I liked the exercise. I liked most of the truck drivers. I didn't drive, but one day, I might drive a truck. I wanted to see all of the San Diego area. I wanted to see California.

For now, I closed the bay door and got busy staging the delivery to go where it belonged, and I went about getting the goods on the shelves. That's what I was doing Thursday, after coming in early to fill the shelves.

I was out of sorts for a few days. The surfing was good for me. I cleared my mind and got my feet back under me, once Skip dropped me at my house. I didn't invite Skip in, and he didn't bring it up.

"I do look forward to Wednesdays, Z. You know how fond of you I am."

"See you next week, Skip. Thanks," I said.

I wasn't worried about Skip. I wasn't worried about getting off or having a roll in the hay with such a hot boy. I wasn't going there today and probably tomorrow and the next day. I had a lot to consider.

Skip and I were never going to be an item, even if I did love him.

I struggled with my routine. Everything was more difficult than it had been the week before. I refused to give in to what was depressing me. I was a lucky lad indeed and I needed to appreciate that.

Love had come and gone.

The door was open for love to walk in on me. I wouldn't live in the past, but I still took Free's pillow out of the plastic each night before going to bed.

*****

I went through the motions. No one asked me what was wrong. One day I was closing the bay door and I stopped to look at the sky. It was the most magnificent shade of blue I'd ever seen. I breathed in the fresh clean air. There were big billowy white clouds floating across the horizon.

It was beautiful.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Z," Mr Hitchcock said, stopping next to me. "We truly live in paradise."

We did.

I wondered what being a cloud would be like.

*****

I began counting the days until Skip would come for me.

Then, I'd get to sit on my board and contemplate the universe. I'd watch the sea and the endless horizon, where the water meets the sky, while I waited for a wave to take me to a place my imagination couldn't capture. A wave swept me away from all earthly constraints.

I was less talkative for a week or so, not that I've ever been a chatterbox.

I went to work and followed the routine. It didn't require thinking. I tried not to think or to pause in a way that made it look like my mind wandered. I needed to be present in my life and not lost in space. It was important to be where I was for a while. My racing mind took time to catch up to my quietude.

Mr Hitchcock came to the end of the row where I was working a few times. He'd stand and watch me pulling cans out of the box and putting them where they belonged. I saw him there, but I pretended I was too busy to notice him.

Mr Hitchcock was perceptive. No one needed to tell him I was off my feed. He didn't ask me what was wrong and I didn't need to tell him. I didn't want to talk about it. He let me work it out on my own. I was a big boy now. I either ducked when a high inside fastball was thrown at my head, or I didn't duck.

I'd ducked but I wasn't ready to get back in the game. I sat out a few innings while being right where I was. For the first time in my life, my racing mind wasn't going anywhere. It too, was waiting to get back in the game.

One morning, while sitting on a box of mixed fruit salad, there was something I remembered about closing doors. You close a door, which Free stood his size ten brogans in, and something happens.

"What happens when you close the door?" I asked myself, hesitating in mid motion with a can of kidney beans ready to hit the shelf.

I sat up straight and inhaled deeply.

"When you close a door, a window opens."

I smiled.

I put the kidney beans where they belonged.

I got up to go get a Coke with my usual quandary about what's best.

*****

On Tuesday, I was focused and ready to work until all the shelves were full. I started to think about going surfing on Monday.

A little before seven, I hung my apron and I walked to the front of the store with my skateboard in my hand.

"Everything is stocked. We have a few boxes of canned goods in the storage area. I'll see you early on Thursday, Mr Hitchcock. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Z. Nice to see you smile again.

I turned and smiled at him before stepping outside and dropping my skateboard on the sidewalk in front of Hitchcock's Market.

*****

On Wednesday. I'm not sure if it was two or three weeks later, I ran out to get into Skip's car as soon as he stopped at the curb.

"Morning," I said. "I need coffee."

Skip turned his head and smiled.

He brought me a large coffee, an egg Mac Muffin, and French Fries.

"Do I look like I'm starving?" I asked.

"You look just fine. Welcome back, Z."

I smiled. I leaned to kiss his cheek. He was almost beaming.

I was back, wasn't I. The window was wide open. I'd take my chances while keeping my eyes open for a boy to climb in.

*****

"Dad, what would you say if I said I wanted to be a truck driver?"

"I'd say, that wouldn't be my choice, but you need to decide what you want to do and what would offer you the best shot at being happy and comfortable."

My father wanted to buy me a car. Nothing fancy, just a used two or three year old economy car. I could get my driver's license, which I'd need if I did decide to be a truck driver one day.

As a child, my parents couldn't give me everything I asked for. I was nine before I got my first bicycle. It wasn't in the budget. They weren't real expensive, but a bike cost more than my parents could afford to spend. I got my bike, and once I had it, I didn't feel like I'd been deprived. I felt like a lucky boy to have parents who thought of me first, before they thought about their own needs.

I would never face the kind of decisions they had to make about eating good food or keeping the electricity on. There were friends of mine who couldn't keep the electricity on, and the food they ate wasn't the food they wanted to eat.

I was a lucky lad and I knew it. I didn't give my parents too many headaches, and I didn't pester them for too many things I wanted. We weren't nearly as desperate as some boys I knew. Life can be hard.

I suppose if there was a disappointment for them, it would be the grandchildren they weren't going to have. I was their only kid, and I never wanted to need to make the kind of decisions my parents were forced to make. I didn't want that responsibility. I didn't want to see my child's disappointment, if I failed to live up to expectations. It was a hard world. At times, it was very hard. What would it be like when kids today grew up and had their own kids to consider?

My parents wanted me to have it better than they had it as children. I don't think the next generations of parents will be able to offer their kids a better life, and those parents were in my generation.

By the following week when Wednesday rolled around, I felt pretty good. I felt better on the days I surfed. Skip was on time and we were going to Ocean Beach. The storm in the Pacific had the surf up, and we'd surf close to home.

It was a few minutes after seven the next morning when I got to work.

"Morning, Z. Was the surf up?" Mr Hitchcock asked as I put on my apron.

"It was fantastic, Mr Hitchcock. A storm out in the Pacific someone said. I don't think I've ever gotten up more times than I did yesterday. I had to come back to work to rest for next week."

"Good. Good," he said, as he went toward his office.

The doors didn't open until eight, and I did a survey of the shelves to see if the usual canned goods were the ones I needed to stock first. Usually, on most Thursdays, the shelves were full by eight, and I could be ready for the first delivery at nine, after pulling the produce forward in the bins.

Because produce was perishable, and there were customers who showed little regard for food someone else might be eating, I kept an eye on the bins.

It was up to me to be sure no one bought a pepper or head of lettuce with a bruise or bad spot. We didn't waste something that might go bad in a customer's fridge. I carried bruised vegetables home for mom to drop into a stew or soup.

We had a nice class of customers. Some of them might set a peach with a bruise on it to one side, so I'd see it right away. Most people treated the bins like there were things in there they might want to eat. I wasn't surprised to see people who were considerate of others, and of me, for that matter.

Checking the produce wasn't part of my original responsibilities, but I saw Mr Hitchcock going through the produce, and I wasn't doing anything, so I told him I could do that. I was in the store nine or ten hours most days, doing something as opposed to sitting on my ass doing nothing helped time pass.

I went through the bins on the busiest days to make sure older produce wasn't shuffled to the rear of the bins. My duties at Hitchcock's were extensive but not overwhelming. I went at a steady pace and by the end of the day, I was satisfied and ready to skate off for a pleasant evening.

There were no windows in the produce department, and so I wasn't on the lookout for someone coming in, but he got in somehow. I didn't see him coming, but I'd never forget the day we met while I went through the produce bins.

*****

All my life I crammed as many activities as I could into each day. Everyone I knew did. We went flat out from first light until after dark. While in school, we were forced to sit at desks, but I squirmed the entire time.

The energy was boiling inside of me and I couldn't wait to hear the starters gun, which was the last bell. I was off like a shot, and so were my friends. We had a million things to get done.

Sitting on my board that's moving up and down with the movement of the water, I wait for a wave. The thrill once I'm on it can't be described. Take my word for it, it's thrilling. Few things can be compared to it. I'm riding a tornado and shooting for the shore. My heart races as my lungs pump fresh sea air.

While I'm waiting I might chat with someone, probably Skip, because I'm only at the beach with Skip. He might be talking up one of the other surfers. One might come over and loop his leg over Skip's leg to hold their boards together, or that's what he wants everyone to think he's doing.

This is how I met surfers. It's how I met Rex and Lucifer. Chug paddled over. He hooked his leg over mine to hold us close enough to chat. Chug was a drinker and I wasn't. Feeling the front of his bathing suit seemed in order once he felt the front of mine. I was curious, but Chug drank and I didn't, and it wasn't a match made in heaven, and I told him so.

Trigger had a curious name. I only knew one Trigger, and he wasn't it. If he lived in La Jolla or La Mesa, we could have considered it, but he lived over a hundred miles away. I hated to let him down, but there was no future for us.

The Curl was the best surfer I'd seen, and he wasn't simply good on his board. Behind the showers he had me curling my toes, and uncurling them, as he gave me what for. I almost passed out when the moment of truth came. I might have gone for The Curl, if he hadn't done Skip right after he did me. It was hot to see, because Skip is hot to see, but I lost interest in The Curl.

Love was everywhere in California. I'd been there and done that, and it would take a good man to win my heart again. I wasn't against love, but there was no rush to love. I'd know when I saw a boy I could love, and once I saw him, I'd decide if he was worth the effort in exploring love with him.

A whole host of feelings and considerations. Had I met Skip before Free had come and gone, my feelings on the boys on California's beaches might have been different. I'd probably gone for more sex and less love. Skip loved Chet. He didn't mind dallying with hot surfers, which made me wonder about his ability to love.

I was happy I knew love, even after love had gone. There was another guy out there for me somewhere, and if Skip kept picking me up on Wednesdays, I'd get to see many more surfer boys. My next lover would be a surfer. My next lover would be a California boy. I knew it, and I kept my eyes open .

Love was everywhere we went to surf, and I had to make up my mind before we got to another beach. Did I want to be trifled with today?

Plenty of guys could be had, but I wanted a guy worth having. I did my best to put lust on hold, because if you were too easy, hot dudes, who could have anyone, would have me. I was no dog. I wanted a boy who wanted me and I didn't think that was too much to ask for.

Skip was the exception, because we went to the beaches together. It didn't take long for me to want to be with Skip, but his feelings were clear and that let me off the hook. I could love Skip without being in love with him. He was fun, treated me well, and he was my ticket to California's beaches. He also furnished the majority of my sex life, which was fine with me. I liked Skip, and he taught me that you can have half a loaf without insisting on having it all.

I did my best to put lust on pause, because I was a California boy who wanted to focus on his surfing. I'd know it if I was seeing someone irresistible. I'd resist him anyway, unless he was as interested in me as much as I was interested in him. Then, he'd need to prove he was interested in more than sex.

One day on the beach, after going to get a drink, I met The Tool.

"How do you get a name like that," I foolishly asked the happy boy.

He lifted his shorts a few inches to show me the head of his dick hanging down beside his leg. I became more careful about the questions I asked, even if The Tool wanted to show it to me hard.

The tool attracted an audience, and I slipped away while he showed off. He was cute, but what could you do with his horse sized cock? The Tool was like a plane in search of a place to land. I felt a little sorry for him, but he didn't notice me when I left him behind.