Kolohe andino

(I meet Kolohe Andino at T-Street in San Clemente. He had just finished surfing. His father is there. Dino. In
a new, white Toyota Tacoma pickup with white shell. Dino keeps calling Kolohe “brother.” I wrongly think they are brothers and assume Dino is actually Dino Jr. He looks good. Young enough.

Kolohe looks quintessentially American. He is 15 and caught in that stage where a young boy’s legs look like a younger girl’s legs. Gangly. But classically handsome. All the genetic qualities of strength and certainty. His jaw is strong. His hair the color of white. Matching eyebrows and lashes. His green eyes move languidly. He will fill out. Musculature will develop that matches strong jaw. But not today.

He wants food.

We drive to Pedro’s Tacos. Every person in San Clemente loves Pedro’s. I don’t love Pedro’s. Kolohe orders a beef and potato burrito, two tacos and a pink lemonade. I don’t order anything. While we wait for the food Kolohe asks what kind of pants I’m wearing. I tell him French couture (they are Dior). He asks if they are expensive. I say, “When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun. Then, you grow up and learn to be cautious. You could break a bone or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes you don’t leap at all because there’s not always someone there to catch you. And in life, there’s no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary?”
We continue driving up the hill from Pedro’s to Kolohe’s house. It is new, classic Orange county stucco perched on 1/3 or an acre. Two stories. The front door is oak. He drags his burrito, tacos and lemonade up clay tile stairs. Past a three-year old blonde Labrador, past a blonde younger sister, past a large LCD television tuned to the Disney Channel. We sit across from each other at the family table.)

(I look at him. He takes a bite out of his burrito. And he speaks.)
I like surfing. I like traveling. I don’t like rap but I like punk. The Misfits, Adolecents, TSOL. Nah, my dad is more into 80s stuff like Depeche Mode and Cure-ish stuff. It’s sick too.
I do the NSSA events. Junior Pro events. Sometimes the events are real tough. When I was a lot younger I was hanging out in San Clemente and a famous surfer called me out because he liked my nickname. The Italian Stallion. He wanted to do a one on one match. I trained real hard. I punched meat. I didn’t think I could win, I just wanted to go the distance with him. And I did. It was pretty awesome.
I like wearing tight jeans.