Chapter 10
Oahu, Hawaiian Islands
Tuesday Morning, November 2004
That morning, before dawn, David drove out to the North Shore with his nine-foot-six-inch Dick Brewer surfboard hanging out the back of his pickup. He had heard that a swell was coming in and the radio had confirmed it. He was tuned to Perry and Price, Honolulu’s morning radio show for commuters. They played some music, gave the weather and surf reports, commented on the news, and warned of traffic tieups. David wondered if they would mention Jason. The Marsdan incident was the kind of story they loved to comment on.
He switched the radio off and put a tape in his cassette deck. He didn’t want to hear about Jason. With the windows down and Leon Russell’s Back to the Island blasting from his dash, David left the ever-growing Honolulu suburbs, passed Schofield Barracks, and motored up the grade through what used to be acres of sugarcane and pineapple fields. Now they were mostly fallow. He had a setting moon in front of him and in a few minutes he would be at Laniakea sliding across smooth walls of curling energy contending with a gang of kids young enough to be his children. He would be doing exactly what they were doing, getting connected to the sea before going to school, or work… or London for that matter.
David was the same age as Jason, taller, and now fifteen pounds heavier than he had been in his twenties. He had gray hair and needed glasses to read a menu. He parked his truck across the highway from the surf break. The beach came right up to the highway at that point and the only place to park was a patch of dirt along what had once been a cane field. The surf was perfect and only a few people were out in the water that early. A station wagon drove onto the shoulder across the highway from him and stopped, blocking his view of the waves. A pair of thirteen-year-old boys pulled their boards from the back of the car and ran off toward the beach. David could hear the adult who dropped them off shout after them to not be late for school. The scene reminded him of the August afternoon when he and Jason were that age, and the event that changed his life. It was the first time he realized how dangerous Jason could be.
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Pacific Palisades
Summer 1978
Jason and David were as close to twins as two people born of different parents could be. They had loved each other since the first grade. They grew up in a sleepy mountain suburb of Los Angeles called Pacific Palisades, noted for its movie stars and for being the home of Ronald Reagan. They went to the same schools, sat in the same classes, played baseball in the spring and football in the fall. They hiked the mountains, surfed the beaches that edged the town just below the cliffs, learned to smoke cigarettes in front of the Bel-Air Bay Club, and discovered girls.
They were Boy Scouts and developed a passion for Indian lore. Jason was more passionate than David, but that was how it was in most things. The boys became part of the ritual team of the Order of the Arrow, the national camping society of the Boy Scouts of America. They chose what Indian nation to emulate, learned the customs of that population, and made their costumes in the manner of their chosen tribe. They learned to dance and performed the “call out” ceremony that initiated those elected to become part of the society. These O. A. rituals were secret, and the young scouts had no idea about what would happen to them when they were pulled away from their fellow campers to begin their initiation.
The boy’s lodge met once a week at Camp Josepho, which was considered the “West Point” of scout camps. Josepho was a loose collection of clapboard cabins centered in one hundred acres of valleys and mountains just beyond the multimillion-dollar estates of the Palisades Riviera. Jason and David would ride their bikes up Amalfi Drive, past the homes of movie stars, until the pavement ended. From there they would coast down the steep dirt road, hugging the side of the mountain, drop through half a dozen switchbacks, ford a year-round creek and end up in the central meadow of the camp.
At the beginning of that summer Jason had conned a park ranger into giving him a dead coyote that the ranger had trapped. Jason had a way of convincing people that his vision was the way things should be, and even then, the ranger was no match for thirteen-year-old J.J. This event became the talk of the lodge, and Jason turned his coyote into an outfit worthy of an actual medicine man.
Jason’s headdress became the envy of all of the scouts in the lodge. They were amazed at how well Jason had skinned the animal and prepared the pelt. But then, Jason always had been resourceful. He knew where to find help and collect information. He put a pair of yellow glass eyes in place of the animal’s dead ones. He bought a jaw set and tongue from a taxidermy shop that made the creature look alive. The coyote’s body was a slick fur coat which Jason wore with pride.
One day in late August Jason and David were alone in the craft building at the camp working on their costumes. A bag of eagle feathers—so the package said—was in the middle of the table, and Jason was contemplating where to put a feather on his pelt. David was doing the same thing, choosing feathers to sew on his beaded breastplate. He had chosen to become a Sioux, where Jason had decided to follow the Zuni people who worshiped the coyote as a trickster and a healer.
“Do you think animals have souls?” Jason asked, as he envisioned the best place to put his feather.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I think so. My dog meditates with us.”
“Huh? Really?” David was more interested in making his breastplate perfect than in Jason’s meditating dog.
“Have you ever tried to meditate?”
David looked at Jason as if he was asking him if he’d ever met an alien. “No. Isn’t it a bit weird?”
David had never truly understood Jason’s fascination with spiritual things. Jason’s mother, Elizabeth St. John, had experimented with all kinds of spiritual teachings, and at that moment she was a Christian Scientist. David had gone a few times with Jason to the Christian Science Church because that’s what buddies did, but he thought the service was boring and sterile.
Yet David envied Jason’s history; it was completely different from his. David believed that Jason’s upbringing made him much more self-assured. David felt totally conventional, a true Baptist. He never liked to stand out. For him, the good life was getting good grades in school so that he could go to college and escape from his family. It was riding a good wave, and having friends he could trust, and being noticed by a beautiful girl—although David was a bit shy and hadn’t the balls to make the first move. That’s what Jason did. He was always the first to do everything. Sometimes David thought he was destined to be the sidekick, the willing accomplice who would follow Jason just about anywhere and do just about anything Jason was willing to do. David really didn’t mind. Yet, when it came to delving into the occult, and many people thought that Christian Science was a cult, it challenged David’s beliefs and the morals that his family lived by. Jason’s religion confused David. Sin and redemption existed for good a reason, or so the Bible said. That didn’t mean he didn’t like adventure, but unlike Jason, David liked to know what he was getting into before he jumped.
“Actually it’s kind of cool,” Jason said, assuming David was on the same thought wave as he was. “My mom has these tapes she listens to and we meditate together after school.”
“But what does it do? Doesn’t it mess with your mind?”
“No. I was reading Dr. Green’s book on meditation and he said that when you meditate the mind becomes the place where you can experience God.” Jason rattled this off as if it made perfect sense.
“Experience God!? Wouldn’t I die if I did?”
“No, not at all. I’m not dead.”
“You haven’t seen God.”
“It’s not like you’ve been taught. Come on. Let me show you.”
“I don’t want to mess around with that stuff. What’s it make you do, hear voices?”
“No, it’s rad. It’s like getting this feeling that, you know, it’s really far-out. It’s like getting high without the weed.”
“I don’t know.”
Jason jumped up, crawled across the table where the boys were working, and grabbed David around the neck. He pulled him close and looked deep into his eyes. David’s heart started pounding. He couldn’t breathe. Suddenly Jason let go, got off the table, and began pacing the room.
“No! There is a way. I know it. I can show it to you.” Jason stopped and looked at David again, close to figuring out how to share his passion. “You know when we’re surfing and you just fall into the groove and everything you do nails it and you don’t really think about it? You’ve done that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s like meditating! You’re experiencing the wave.”
“I’m riding it.”
“Don’t be such a jerk. I’ve seen that look on your face. I know you’ve experienced that.”
“Okay. So surfing is meditation.” David went back to sewing his eagle feathers on his Sioux breastplate.
Jason didn’t give up and sat down next to him, speaking right into his face. To David, Jason’s voice took on the caliber of a radio commercial. David occasionally looked over to him as he spoke; “The way Dr. Green explains it, we commune with God through a still mind. That’s why they meditate in India. Mom and I light candles after school before Dad comes home. I don’t think she’s even told him yet. I know it sounds kind of strange, but it’s really amazing. Anyway, we sit on the floor and mom tells me to watch my thoughts and see if I can find the spaces between them. I pretend like I’m watching cars on the freeway, but instead of focusing on the cars I focus on the spaces between them. I did it once, just for a few moments, and I felt this incredible peace. Like the whole world had disappeared and there was nothing but me, but it wasn’t me like I am, it was me without a physical body!”
David was speechless. But, there was something about Jason’s intensity that made him subconsciously pay attention. Jason was always enthusiastic about new things. He threw himself into projects—like the boy’s O. A. costumes—so this wasn’t out of character. There was clarity in Jason’s eyes and a passion in his voice when he described his meditation, which David hadn’t seen or heard before. And as much as he didn’t want to give in to Jason’s enthusiasm, he was intrigued by what Jason was saying.
Jason picked on David’s openness and pressed on. “Want to try it?”
“Why not?” Perhaps David subconsciously wanted to break out from the narrowness of his family’s conventional thinking.
“Let’s do this. Let’s get into our costumes and put on our paint and go up to the high meadow,” Jason said. “I know the Indians would have done this. They could get themselves into a state of mind where they could feel totally connected to nature.”
David thought this was exciting, like another secret ritual. No one was around. They were on our own, two young braves preparing to face the wilderness and explore the furthest reaches of their thinking. David felt it was kind of hedonistic, completely anti Baptist, and he liked it.
“Let’s do this all the way.” Jason stepped out of his underwear and wrapped his loincloth around his waist. Watching Jason gave David another sensation. It made his nuts tingle. It wasn’t like he’d never seen Jason naked before—they were practically brothers. But this was a different situation. They were becoming primitive and discarding conventional morality. David loved Jason as a brother, but he was attracted to girls. He had two older sisters and a father who never talked about sex. David thought his father was afraid of it, afraid of having to tell his son what it was all about. Or maybe he didn’t really know.
David pushed those feelings aside, took off his street clothes, put on his costume, and followed Jason from the cabin. Jason locked the door, hid the key under the mat, and the boys headed off upstream to the high meadow. Neither one of them noticed the ranger watching them from his cabin.
The boys hiked in silence, skirting the creek. Jason led as usual while David’s mind raced ahead. What if all this wasn’t just playacting, kid stuff, and make-believe? What if Jason was tapping into some psychic realm, intent on brainwashing him? David laughed at that thought. If Jason could do that it had happened a long time ago.
The upper meadow was about a mile from the main camp and a thousand feet higher. Typical of the Santa Monica Mountains, the lower approach was a winding, narrow canyon cut through the mountains by a stream. The high meadow blossomed out from there into a pear shape field rising to within a few hundred feet of the ridgeline, which was covered in chaparral and sumac. The meadow grass was tall and yellow, as high as the boy’s knees, and smelled of summer rain. The source of the creek was a spring in the middle of the meadow that, because of the summer storm, had grown to the size of a pond. The water was mainly clear, though not very deep.
As the boys entered the meadow, David had the sensation that he was leaving his childhood. He followed Jason to the spring, and the young “Indians” fell on their backs and looked up at the extremely soft but brilliant blue sky.
“I’ve got fuzz-balls floating in front of my eyes,” Jason said.
“It’s the atmosphere.”
Jason sat up, crossed his legs, and faced David. “All of this,” Jason gestured to everything around them, “is inside of you, you know. Nothing is really out there. It’s all in your mind.”
“Really? I don’t see that.”
“If we believed strongly enough,” Jason continued, “we could put ourselves back in time and experience what Indian kids our age did when they went through their rites of passage. We could, you know.”
David sat up and faced him. “Then let’s do it.”
Jason said, “Cross your legs and put your knees against mine. Put your hands on my knees like this.”
David put his right hand on Jason’s right knee and his left hand on Jason’s left knee, making a cross. Jason did the same and the boys were completely entwined.
“Now stare into my eyes,” Jason continued.
David held his gaze for a few seconds and then started to laugh.
“Come on. This is scientific. We might experience something outrageous.”
“Are you going to hypnotize me?”
“No!” Jason replied emphatically. “We’re each going to look deep into the psyche of the universe.”
David met Jason’s gaze again, and after a few breaths relaxed into the awkward position. David’s back straightened. The cramping in his legs left, and he felt like he was floating. Jason’s eyes were almost unblinking and at first David wanted to count the seconds between blinks, but some other part of him said, “Keep still.” Jason was breathing deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. David followed Jason’s breathing and soon no longer saw him. David felt calm.
Both of the boys’ breathing slowed into long, steady breaths. They fell into the same rhythm. Their heartbeats were in sync, and the pulsing of the blood in Jason’s legs matched the beat in David’s. David was no longer aware of his breathing. He was now looking through Jason, traveling further into the depth of his eyes until he was no longer aware of Jason’s form. All David saw was the pasture in the mountains, pure and pristine. There was no time.
David lost his sense of self and merged with all that surrounded him—the pasture, the spring and even Jason. He felt the water push through the grass into his body. He heard the wind carry the song of the wilderness to every corner of his being.
Jason shuddered and let out a long sigh. David snapped back to what he thought was the present time and looked up. They were surrounded by Native American boys, about their same age, dressed in animal skins, with their bodies and faces painted like war paint. Some wore elaborate costumes decorated with feathers, shells, and quills. Others wore only simple loincloths. They seemed to welcome Jason and David back as if they were long lost brothers. David felt love fill the air. It made him catch his breath. Made his heart beat faster.
Then one boy, with greased black hair tied into braids, loosened his loincloth. He stood naked in front of Jason and David, and then moved with an animal grace, completely uninhibited and free. The other Indian boys followed his lead, dropping their garments and joining his dance. They beckoned to David and Jason to do the same.
David looked at Jason. Was this real? Was Jason seeing the same thing? Jason needed to go first. David couldn’t do it alone. Then Jason started to move and as he did, David saw the head of his penis protruding from his loincloth and growing with the steady pulse of the throbbing dance. David started to get hard and tried to fight it.
Jason stripped off his costume and joined the dance. David watched Jason spin around, his hands reaching up to the heavens and his manhood growing as stiff and as large as a satyr in the company of virgins. The naked Indians acknowledged his arrival with erections of their own, dancing in celebration of life—in celebration of their maleness. David felt the elation and wanted to join in. He wanted to be free.
David tried to get up but couldn’t. Something in his head said that this was sinful; that he wasn’t allowed this kind of freedom. He wasn’t supposed to get aroused by other men. He tried to justify his arousal by arguing that it was natural. Jason was there to encourage him, showing him how to drop his conditioning and dance. “Who said thou wast naked?” came the Biblical statement booming into David’s head.
When he finally did get up, he was as stiff as Jason. The Indians had vanished and there was Jason dancing naked, alone. In a rash of guilt, he once more lost his enthusiasm. The mystical union he and Jason had been sharing dissolved, leaving only sin and the promise of punishment.
“What the hell are you boys doing up here?” came the ranger’s voice, yelling from the edge of the meadow.
David ran into the spring and fell face down in the cold water. Jason confronted the man with a look of complete contempt. He wasn’t ashamed or intimidated.
“Get something and cover that thing up,” the ranger shouted. Turning to David he said, “Get the hell out of that spring!”
David didn’t want to move. He didn’t have Jason’s confidence, and he was harder than a rock. He would rather die than expose what he didn’t want exposed.
“Now!” the ranger shouted.
David reluctantly got up and his loincloth looked like it was stretched over a tent pole.
“So what have we got here, a couple of little queers? Well, let’s see how this goes down with your parents. Come on. Let’s go!”
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David shook off the memory and got out of the cab of his truck. He watched a fresh set of waves bend around the point. A handful of people were now in the water. The two boys he saw being dropped off were in the channel, paddling out to the break as the swells turned into breakers. A surfer caught the second wave of the set. It had a six-foot face—making it a three-foot wave in Hawaiian measurement—and the rider moved up and down across the face in quick moves, bouncing off the bottom and then rising to kick off the curl.
David was surprised that his childhood memories were still so vivid. Just thinking about going back into Jason’s world flooded him with anxiety. Was Jason just manipulating him again? Would he even make a difference? He thought it ironic, since he tried to live in the now, as Jason continued to teach. Maybe he was more connected to Jason than he was willing to admit. Maybe that feeling could never be purged. Maybe getting off his duff and getting into the water would change things.
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Pacific Palisades
Summer 1978
A few days after the incident in the meadow, Jason and his parents, Phillip and Elizabeth, were at June and Donald Walker’s house for their weekly bridge night. Donald was in no mood for bridge that night and he had been drinking. Things were not going well for the Walkers. Their oldest daughter was leaving for college, and that put a financial strain on Donald. But more than that, Donald did not approve of premarital sex and he knew that once his girl was away from home, she would succumb to peer pressure and do “it.” Donald hoped that his wife, June, had educated her on birth control, but he didn’t believe in that either. His middle daughter had just gotten her driver’s license and was begging for a car, which she wasn’t going to get. And now the son of his wife’s best friend was corrupting his son. On top of that, his company was moving him to Orange County. Donald had just told his family that news the other day, and he was worried about selling his Palisades house and finding one as nice down there.
When the St. Johns arrived, Jason and David went into the den and the adults immediately sat down to play cards. Donald Walker insisted on dealing instead of cutting the deck first. Everyone brushed over that without making a fuss. After the bidding, which the Walkers won, Donald became the dummy and went in to the kitchen for another drink. June concentrated on playing her hand and made no comment. Her hope lay in her cards, and if she won the hand perhaps her husband would mellow and it would be a pleasant evening after all.
David hadn’t talked to Jason for a few days and was desperate to know what had happened to him. But, at the same time, David wanted to eavesdrop on their parents. He had a bad feeling about the game that night. It was quiet in the living room; the adults must have been concentrating on their cards, and Jason and David looked at each other rather awkwardly from opposite sides of the room.
“Did the ranger talk to your parents?” David finally asked.
“That friggin freak. Did you see he was covered in tattoos?”
“Yea, probably a marine or something, but what did your dad say?” David wanted to know if Jason had suffered as much humiliation as he had.
“My dad wasn’t home. My mom and I talked about it and she was pretty cool. I explained the whole thing, and she doesn’t think there’s anything weird between us.”
“My dad hit the roof. You’d have thought I’d murdered somebody. What about your dad, didn’t your mom tell him later?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t seem concerned. Said he’d love me no matter what. That was a little weird.”
“My dad was all over my mom and my sisters. He blamed them for making a sissy out of me. God, this is going to get all over town. If we walk down the street together people are going to calls us fagots.”
“So what!” Jason truly didn’t care. “You and I know that we aren’t, so screw them. I don’t care what other people think, and what they think isn’t going to ruin our friendship.”
“Yeah.” David had a hard time keeping his voice from breaking. To David, Jason’s loyalty and friendship was a great relief. They were best friends, so tight, and what happened in the hills just added a profound layer to his already burdensome, adolescent angst. David checked his impulse to run across the room and hug Jason. He was too afraid.
Back in the living room, Jason’s parents deliberately projected normalcy, though the tension at the card table could be cut with a butter knife. June Walker kept giving Elizabeth St. John glances that telegraphed her distress. “Pray for me. Help me. How do I deal with this kind of situation and maintain harmony?” June pleaded silently.
Instead of addressing June’s plea for help, Elizabeth retreated into her detached, Christian Science practitioner mode where she had no sympathy for “mortal mind” behavior—that human perception that there is power in material cause and effect. As with everything Elizabeth did, she went all the way. She went through Christian Science class instruction with the finest teacher she could find and was a member in good standing of the Mother Church, therefore she was eligible to practice spiritual healing. June relied on Elizabeth for spiritual support and secretly went to the Christian Science Church. She liked the peace there; so different from the hellfire of her husband’s Baptist Church.
Elizabeth wasn’t being rude to June, though it might have appeared that way. She was silently working to bring harmony into the situation. Her Christian Science teacher had taught her that one of the strongest tendencies of the so-called mortal or carnal mind was its love for sympathy. She could not be an effective healer and have any sympathy for “error,” or wrong thinking.
Donald Walker came back from the kitchen with another bourbon. “Any religion founded by a woman,” he said, referring to Mary Baker Eddy, “has no balls and should be relegated to spinsters and old maids.” He pointedly looked at Elizabeth. “You’re turning my son into a fairy!”
And raising his voice to June; “David’s going to go to a real church, one with some discipline, some hellfire and punishment!”
“You don’t mean that, Donald,” June said emphatically, as if denying her husband’s outrage would delay the impending embarrassment.
“I mean every word of it. I’m sick and tired of all this pretending. You think you’re fooling me by going to Elizabeth’s “church.” Her religion might be fine for sick people, but I won’t let you brainwash my son.”
“Donald, that’s the alcohol talking and not really you,” June said weakly.
Elizabeth got up from the table and put her hand on June’s shoulder. “Let’s make some coffee.”
“Coffee won’t do any good. It’s not going to change things.” Donald stood up and blocked the doorway to the kitchen. “You haven’t told them?” he shouted to his wife. “Your goddamn best friend and she don’t know shit?”
Donald’s language nearly knocked over the St. Johns. Elizabeth grabbed June’s shoulder to steady herself. Phillip jumped from the game table, ready to defend his wife if the scene grew more ugly.
Jason and David came in from the den. They couldn’t help hearing what was said. Jason looked at David, his best friend, surprised he hadn’t been told. David shrugged, embarrassed. All of it was terribly depressing; moving away from his best friend, being forced to go to a fundamentalist church—what was next, military school?
“We better go and let the Walkers work this out in private,” Phillip said as he put an arm around Elizabeth. Elizabeth stepped back from June and beckoned for her son to join them. Jason silently walked over and stood between his parents. Phillip had always dubbed them the three musketeers; it was how he thought of his family.
Standing together like that, David suddenly saw it. Nothing could ever come between them. They were invincible, too strong for bumpy emotional detours; Christian Scientists to the core, standing “porter at the door of thought.”
Their circling of the wagons turned David off. In the volatility of his family there was a lot of affection along with the fighting. It seemed more honest, somehow. How smug Jason and his parents appeared to David. How perfect. Then Jason gave David a subtle wave, and David knew that they would always be buddies. Not even Mrs. St. John’s steel-trap mind could alter their destiny. As David watched his best friend walk away, clad in the armor of metaphysics and right thinking, he felt surprisingly free. They weren’t done with each other; they were just entering a new phase of their brotherhood.
“I’ll call you, Elizabeth,” June said.
“Fine.”
The Walkers moved to Costa Mesa the next week, and Donald had all of his kids at the Baptist Church that Sunday. David never knew if his mom had called Elizabeth to explain things. He felt sure that she did, and knowing Elizabeth, knew that she listened politely to June, careful not to give in to sympathetic mesmerism.
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David caught his first wave as the sun came up over the Ko‘olau Mountains. A couple of teenagers tried to drop in on him, but his style of surfing dissuaded them. Riding a long-board was like sailing a classic yacht; it’s graceful, elegant, and smooth in a world of quick, frantic action. The kids surfing with him started to respect his style and soon they were mixing ballet with hip-hop on the same wave. After a dozen or so waves the kids said their good-byes and paddled in to go to school. David spent the rest of the morning sitting on his board, away from the surf line and the ever-changing crowd, thinking about Jason’s call. By the time it became too hot to sit out in the sun any longer David was close to his answer and paddled in.