Page 42 of Summer Romance
“This will just take a second,” Ethan says. “We can’t just drive by Mort.”
I get out of the car and follow him to the stand. The delicious salty smell of hot dogs fills the air. It reminds me of the ballpark on our first date.
“I thought you were gone for good,” says Mort. He takes Ethan’s face in his hands like he’s going to give him a giant kiss.
“Never.” Ethan laughs.
“In six years I didn’t go a week without selling this man a hot dog,” he says to me. Then to Ethan, “You’ve missed the last two games. Lyle said you were leaving the team. But I said, ‘Lyle, you’re an idiot. Ethan would never abandon the Red Hot Pokers. Not when I still owe him forty bucks.’ ”
Ethan laughs, “I think it’s sixty.” He introduces me and buys two hot dogs, seemingly out of habit.
When we’re back in the car he breaks up the hot dogs for Brenda and Ferris. “Red Hot Pokers?” I ask.
“It’s just poker. But we’re definitely a crew.”
“Matching T-shirts?”
“Visors,” he says with a smile, and starts the car.
We park on the street in a run-down neighborhood where there’s a crowd in front of a vacant lot. Halogen lights, identical to the ones at the skate park in Beechwood, mark each corner.
Ethan comes around to help me out of the car and holds on to my hand for a second. “This is so weird that you’re here,” he says.
“I’m excited to see it,” I say.
“We’ll see.”
We walk toward the crowd, mostly teenagers, and one with long dark hair calls out, “Ethan!” He comes over and they fist-bump.
“Hey. Thanks for waiting. Justin, this is Ali.”
“Oh, hi,” he says, and shakes my hand. “I’ve kept thegate locked and I’m trying to get people to line up. It’s been fine I guess, but they’ve been waiting a long time.”
“Okay, get Louie and Michael and I’ll let you guys in first. Then we’ll deal with the line.”
I follow Ethan into the crowd, where everyone knows him. “Dude, where have you been?” they ask. “Finally,” someone else says. They are all clamoring to get through the gate into the park. A half-pipe sits in the center, and on it is painted what might be an aerial view of this neighborhood. I want to get closer to look at the details, but Ethan and I are manning the gate.
When he’s let exactly thirty kids into the park, he starts to work the line. It surprises me to see how he interacts with these kids. He’s both a high school principal dictating where everyone needs to be and a slightly older brother joking around. I stand at the front of the line and watch. He knows everyone, including the uniformed police. He stops to talk with a couple of teenage boys, and he laughs at something they’ve said. I can’t actually hear his laugh, but I see it and hear it in my head. It’s the deep, rich laugh he uses when it’s just the two of us and he’s completely himself.
He feels too far away, immersed in this crowd, and I want to call out to him, to bring him back to me. I am relieved each time he looks up to check that I’m still there. My job is to stand by the gate and let him know if anyone leaves so that he can let the next kids in. The first person in line looks like she’s about fourteen. I try to start a conversation. “I like your skateboard.” Fun fact: I don’t know how to talk to teenagers.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Did you do that artwork or did it come like that?”
“I did it.”
“Wow, it’s cool.” “Cool” is not the right thing to say. Never say “cool.” I cross my arms over my chest to protect myself from whatever reaction I deserve.
“Thanks,” she says. “Are you Ethan’s girlfriend?”
“Um, no?” I say, and hope I’m not blushing again. “He’s my friend’s brother, I’m just here to see the skate park.”
“He went to see my brother pitch in Connecticut, because my dad couldn’t go and is superstitious about missing games.”
“I was there too,” I say, connecting the dots. “It was fun.”
“Sounded like a total bust. Now my dad’s more superstitious than ever. You skate?”
