The Wanderings of the Warwick Boys I Guess That’s Why They

Circa July 1978 It was on one incredibly sunny July afternoon that Robert DeMasi decided not to do the dishes. It was against his better judgement, but his mother was at work and there were waves. He flew around the house getting ready to go, and in about five minutes was running down to the end of the driveway where his two friends sat in their red Chevy. Trying not to drop his surfboard, he skidded to a halt in front of the car. The nineteen-year-old in the front seat rolled down the window, “About time,” he grumbled. Todd Lander was of average height and had short, dark blonde hair that blew around his face in the slight wind. He narrowed his eyes as if to say “come on, get going”. Rob rolled his eyes and situated his gear in the hatchback trunk of the car next to his friend’s things. As he hopped into the backseat of the car, the other boy in the passenger seat turned his head around to look at him. “What took ya so long?” Jimmy Izzy asked. If you had seen Jimmy and Rob together you would have thought they were brothers. Both had dark, curly hair and similar mannerisms. “Nothin, let’s go,” Rob answered excitedly. He loved surfing. Todd backed out of the driveway and the boys sped off towards Narragansett. Watching the roads and the houses race by, Rob’s stomach bubbled with anticipation, “Are we there yet?” he asked impatiently. “Does it look like we’re there?” Todd retorted. Grunting, Rob returned to his post of staring out the window. He watched the houses as they passed and melted away as the car neared Narragansett Beach. As they came around the corner, Rob raised himself off the seat to look over the wall to the beach. It was windy, but there were waves. Waves crashing right on the shore, waves peeling off in the perfect spots, waves far out, waves. Todd drove the car under the arch and drove past Monahan’s Clam Shack and towards the first spot they were checking. Pilgrim Avenue was a dead end street that led straight out to the waves. Todd pulled the car up to the end of the street and the three boys jumped out. Across the patch of the dirt, they came to the rocks that hugged the Rhode Island coast line like a barrier. “Windy,” said Jimmy watching the waves. Todd hummed in agreement. Rob watched the current set carefully. His friends were right, it was a little windy. They stood for about ten minutes watching the waves in a comfortable silence. The waves here were always relaxed but it was wonky. “Let’s check K,” said Todd, turning away from the breaking waves. “But-,” Rob started “Keep your shirt on we’re gonna surf,” Todd said, cutting him off. “Ok,” Rob sighed. They jumped back into the car and drove away to their next destination, K39. K was worse than Pilgrim. And the Point Judith Lighthouse wasn’t much better than the first two spots. Standing by the lighthouse looking out over the breaking waves in despair, the three boys looked to each other. “Well we could always go skateboarding,” Jimmy stated. Todd and Rob glared at him. “Arrgggg,” Rob kicked a large rock in frustration. And then he hissed in pain grabbing his foot. “Weirdo,” Todd taunted. Rob shot daggers at him. Which just made Jimmy join in, the two of them chuckling as they made their way back to the car, Rob hobbling along on his still throbbing foot. For the next twenty minutes the boys drove aimlessly as if that would make waves appear. Venturing into an area of town they had never been to before, they looked around nervously. “Todd what are we doing?” Rob doubted. “Following a hunch,” Todd answered cryptically. They drove along slowly, looking around at the neighborhood they were entering. The houses were

simple yet foreboding. “Look!” Jimmy exclaimed. Rob had seen it too. A glimpse of a wave, a shimmer of hope on this windy day. “Todd, Todd, turn around and park next to that person’s house,” Rob effused. Todd did as suggested and they peered through the line of houses and watched the perfect waves at this mystery surf spot through the small gap. They stood in a breathless silence of anticipation as they watched the waves.

Jimmy turned. “Grab the gear,” he announced. Grinning, Rob grabbed his board and walked to the edge of the lawn by which they were parked, scouting out the path they were going to forge through the expanse of yards in front of them. Once they were all ready they started their journey over the fence and through the first yard. They encountered no one, thank god, as they climbed and ran until they found the waves they were searching for. By the time they made it down the rocks of the unexplored point break, Rob’s feet were sore but he didn’t care. The boys threw themselves into the water, laughing, and paddled out. Rob looked around the area. The waves seemed to originate from a single rock over where Jimmy was sitting. Paddling closer to Jimmy, he sat up looking out at the water. A set was coming. The three of them surfed for about an hour and a half until the setting sun was the only thing keeping them from staying out longer. By the time they reached the shore it was dark, and the wind was picking up. Rob shivered in just his board shorts and t-shirt. Hooking his board under his arm he and Todd and Jimmy, and they made their way through the first few yards. So far nothing had gone wrong. Until the fourth yard. “Hey!” A shaky feminine voice called from behind them. All three boys turned to the source of the noise. An older woman in a housecoat stood on her back deck surveying them. “What are you doing?” she yelled. The boys looked at each other, “Run!” Todd shouted. Rob, alongside his two friends, scrambled across the yard to the fence. The woman continued to yell from her back porch for them to get off of her lawn. Rob was the last one to climb the tall chain link fence. But his shirt snagged, he was stuck. “I’m gonna call the police,” screamed the woman. Rob turned, watching in horror as the woman grabbed her telephone off the wall. He remembered something his mother had once said to him, “Now you listen here, Robert DeMasi, if you ever get into any trouble with the police, don’t expect me to come bail you out.” He gulped and pulled at his shirt. It wouldn’t budge. “Rob,” Todd warned. “I know,” he yelled back, yanking at his shirt. It finally came free, tearing a hole in it, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. He jumped over the other side of the fence, grabbing his board and racing back to the car through the remainder of the yards, his friends at his heels. It was about 10:30 when Todd’s red Chevy pulled into the driveway of Rob’s house for the second time that day. They had stopped to get dinner, which had been fried clams, of course. “Bye,” Todd and Jimmy chorused. “Bye!” Rob called back. Hearing his friends honk a goodbye, he propped his surfboard against the house and entered. Sneaking through the kitchen and reaching the stairs, he climbed quietly skipping the two creaky ones. Too tired to even take a shower, he opened the door to his room and strolled inside shutting the door quietly behind him. After changing quickly into pajamas, he pulled back the covers. And there were the long forgotten dishes. In his bed.

~Lila Journalist 22