Page 109 of Chasing Stardust

After taking a few turns on the merry-go-round, I say goodbye to my daredevil namesake and head down the pier to Pacific Park for some thrill seeking of my own.

On my way, I duck into the Playland Arcade where Mom and G-Lo had their epic Skee-Ball battle. The place is practically a museum, packed with a combination of modern video games and vintage arcade machines—some I’ve never even heard of before—plus an air hockey and foosball mecca.

Following the blue-and-white-checkered floor, I make my way to the back of the building where a row of Skee-Ball machines from different eras call to me. As I bend down to put a coin in one of the newer machines, a man clears his throat, catching my attention.

The old man watches me from the end of the row like Benjamin Button in a faded-blue Superman T-shirt and bright-red board shorts big enough to swallow him whole. What am I, a Superman magnet? Okay, universe. I hear you.

He eyes the quarters in my fingers and gives a subtle shake of his head, ruffling his silver hair. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” I glance at the ancient chassis in front of him. Based on the impressive strip of tickets pooling at his feet, he’s been playing a while.

“Nope. See these?” He nods to his machine and the one beside it. “They’ve been bringing joy to generations since long before you were born. I suspect it’ll continue long after I’m gone.”

“You think the old ones work better?” I can’t help but smile at his logic.

“I prefer to think of them as classics.” He chuffs. “And yes. They most definitely do. There’s nothing like years of wax buildup to make these babies glide up the alley.” He holds up the polished wooden ball in his hand, and the sparkle in his eye makes me giggle.

“That’s a good enough reason for me.” I abandon the modern machine for the classic and shove my coins into the slot. A row of balls rumbles down the chute.

On my first try, the ball sails up the lane and over the hump, bouncing right into the fifty-point bull’s-eye ring. I let out a squeal. “Did you see that?”

“See what I mean? You can’t let old age fool ya.”

I immediately think of G-Lo. “You’re so right.”

My second roll doesn’t go as well. The ball drops into the lowest ring for ten points. “So much for thinking I could go pro.”

“Keep at it. You’ll get the hang of it.” The man rolls his next ball and scores forty points. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“Not me.” I laugh. “I’m only here because my mom played here with my grandma when she was about my age, so when I saw the sign, I had to come check it out.”

“Play a lot of Skee-Ball, do they?”

“They did when they were here.”

He throws another ball up the alley, hitting the bull’s-eye again. “They don’t play anymore?”

“My, uh . . .” I draw in a deep breath. “My mom died recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His pale-gray eyes bore into mine. “Was she sick?”

“Cancer.”

He nods and lowers his head, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight. “Cancer took my wife last fall.”

Tears well in my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” A sad smile curves his lips. “I’m a lucky man to have had her as long as I did. We were married for the best damn sixty years of my life. Through a whole lot more good than bad. She loved the pier. Every Sunday we came to play Skee-Ball and watch the sunset.”

“Was she as good as you?”

A loud bark of laughter cracks the air. “Even when she was sick, she was hard to beat. I called her Wonder Woman.” He pats the big red S on his chest. “And she called me Superman.”

My eyes glaze over, and a lump forms in my throat.

“Listen to me, rambling on. You don’t want to hear about my life.” He shakes his head and turns back to his lane, rolling another fifty-point bull’s-eye. The light above his machine spins, flashing red, putting the sparkle back in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a friendly wager?”

“You let me win,” I admonish him with a smile.