Skate Land

I remember it like it was yesterday. Talk Show Host by Radiohead was playing as we drove in silence.

My 98 Ford Probe bumbled and grumbled down the silent street as you stared out the passenger side window.

I told you this song reminded me of middle school when an old friend and I used to watch Romeo and Juliet and wish our lives were more like theirs.

You smiled to be nice and resumed your spot at the window.

My palms kept sticking to the steering wheel because you made me nervous.

And tonight was our first date.

Maybe.

You hadn't really been clear on what this night meant to you.

You had just agreed to hang out with me, to get away from your ex.

Until this moment you always snuck away from her at parties to hang out with me.

That was thing about you, I loved.

Spontaneity.

I wished I could have been more like that.

A rain drop splattered my windshield.

I turned my wipers on to do away with the others that followed.

The sun went down on what was one of my favorite fall days.

Rainy, cold, and dark.

Not the kind of cold that requires me to blast the heat, but the kind that demands a hat, scarf or sweatshirt.

You wore that dingy green army jacket that belonged to your grandpa and a pair of worn brown corduroys.

It was hard to focus on driving, because all I wanted to do was stare at you.

That was the thing I loved about you.

No matter how annoyed you were with me, you seemed to be fine with the way I looked at you.

Even if you hadn't felt the same way.

I flipped up my headlights to brighten the road, but only one had come up.

I didn't make much of a fuss, but inside I was cursing this car.

I hated looking poor.

You had asked me to take you somewhere people wouldn't see us.

A place you could escape.

I could think of only one place.

And I wasn't sure you'd like it.

I nearly lost my grip from the steering wheel when we finally pulled into the parking lot.

I parked underneath the neon Skate Land sign, and turned to gage your reaction.

Somehow you hadn't mind, but you were empty.

A shell.

I couldn't tell if you were annoyed, or angry with me.

You removed a half empty bottle of E & J Brandy you swiped from your parents and knocked it back like it was nothing.

I'd never drank alcohol before, except for the shots of wine they had at communion.

You insisted, and I didn't want to disappoint.

Somehow I debated the consequences of driving, drinking and skating, but knew if we were going to get through this night, I would need some liquid courage.

We finished the bottle before eight and stumbled into Skate Land.

You paid our way in.

I got the skates.

I hadn't been here since I was a kid, but I remember it being vastly different.

It had an innocence to it, which was no longer there.

Kids used to shuffle across the floor with their plastic Playschool training wheels.

Parents held the hands of their children as they scooted in the practice area.

There were limbo challenges, speed skating races, and oldies that brought a nostalgic feel this place.

Skate Land had become a worn down ghost town playing top 40's that were mostly hip hop, explicit rap songs, and bad 90's dance songs.

You didn't seem to notice or care and began lacing up.

Before I was secured in my skates, you had rolled away and occupied the floor.

I watched as you skated around interracial couples dragging their kids across the floor and screaming at them.

You were a natural, but what had bothered me was the blank expression on your face.

You lit up a cigarette without a care in the world and made a lap to The Power by Snap!

An old man with custom skates reliving his glory days, zoomed around you doing fancy skate tricks while dancing.

Suddenly I was aware at how terrible this idea was.

You had left the floor and crossed the stained 3-d carpet toward the bathroom.

I followed to make sure you were okay.

Wet paper towels, littered the floors, sticking to my skate as I entered.

There was graffiti on the cracked tiled walls and most of the sinks rusted pipes leaked water on the floor.

All of the stall doors were open, except the handicapped stall, where I heard you sniffling and coughing.

I made sure you were okay, but you didn't answer.

There was more sniffling, followed by a heavy cough.

I began to worry, but the door flung open and you pulled me inside.

You slammed me against the wall and kissed me hard.

I nearly fell from the skates, but you held me up cracking a smile.

I asked you if you were okay, but you kissed me again.

You nearly screamed "lets skate!" before disappearing from the bathroom.

I had to catch my breath.

This wasn't the first time you kissed me but usually you were really drunk.

I noticed a rolled up piece of paper drowning in the dingy toilet of the stall.

When I finally left the bathroom you were enthusiastically skating to a song that kept repeating the words Silly Ho and sounded like TLC.

You spotted me and waved me over.

I met you at the wall, me on the carpet side, you still on the floor.

You were sweating and wearing a curious smile.

"Request something!" you screamed.

"What?" I asked, but before you could answer you were skating again.

I rolled to the DJ, booth and climbed the carpeted stairs.

The DJ was wearing rose colored glasses and flipping through CD books while bobbing his head.

I asked if I could request a song.

He continued flipping through his books.

"As long as it's something funky!" He exclaimed.

I asked him for Lovesong by The Cure.

"What?" He screamed, turning up TLC.

"Lovesong!" I yelled back at him.

"Love, got it. It's up next." He cackled, tearing through his books.

As I descended the DJ mountain, I noticed you had ditched the army jacket.

You were like a rock n roll James Dean in a plain white tee and rolled up jeans.

Another cigarette dangled from your lips as you skated to the music.

I finally caught up to you and said my song was next.

My anxiety from trying to impress you had flared up.

I second guessed my decision and hoped you didn't think I was pretentious for choosing The Cure.

As the TLC song ended, my heart began to race.

Your Love by Nicki Minaj had started thumping through the speakers.

My anxiety had flipped to embarrassment as we skated.

"I said The Cure."

You started to laugh.

The laugh turned into uncontrollable laughter that made me self conscious, until I realized it was genuine.

The first genuine emotion I had seen from you other than depression.

You took my hand and pulled me along, forcing me to laugh and have a good time.

Skating to Your Love.

No worries.

Or anxiety.