Love in Long Beach 1997-ish

AMONGST THE TALES OF THE TOWN, CROUCHING BEHIND THE TERROR AND THE TORRID, SAT A SWEET LITTLE ROMANCE.

LEAVE IT THERE, BUT DEFINITELY ENJOY IT.

Aggro lived with a buddy who played in a band. The band had just been picked up, a major label record deal. Good times, local guy does good, and he buys a house in a better neighborhood than The Punk Rock Row. It was a wonderful home, emptied, yet still seemingly full with life.

The welcome mat still sat on the porch, included with the sale, and no one thought to replace it. The house was priced to sell, it was a steal for Eric and his many rotating roommates.

Previously owned for decades, the matriarch had passed away, and the grieving family left behind loads of furniture to be included in the sale-and what hadn't been donated to Goodwill was left as it was. The widow bereaved, it was too much for one person, as his adult children were on their own. The family sold their home, easier than thought, and in a haste grief after losing such a liberal and loving mother.

This also behooved the Punkers-who he before acquired furnishings from looting alleys, studios and a generous girlfriend. Aggro rented a room from Eric. He moved into one of the upstairs bedrooms. It was housed by one of the daughters. Aggro had realised this upon finding, in the back of the closet, an old photo of a chubby, smiling ballerina of about 13. The little girl kinda plucked at his barely bubblin' heart, and he kept the faded Polaroid taped to the mirror.
Aggro was STERN. He had conquered an addiction, and was working his steps for maintaining sobriety. He had gainful and lauded employment, as well as a permanent address and a new surfboard.
He was good. He was also besotted with the cute girl at the coffee shop, the artist who lived at the Compound. She was sweet looking, sexy and dirty too-but cute in her rockabilly style, ever gripping a smoldering clove cigarette and wiping spills with the tattered hems of her vintage dresses.

Aggro stumbled through a hasty introduction, seduction and courtship with the paint splattered girl. He invited her up to the punk rock bachelor pad one night, with every intention of kicking their courting into high gear. After too many cups of coffee, they head over to his place, his room in Eric's big old house, and the girl laughs aloud as they pull into the driveway of her childhood home.

Tom chalked it up to true love when she danced around in the upstairs bedroom and shared with him the memories of living there when she was a chubby, smiling ballerina.