Jerome drivesus through a tropical world of trees and plants on an upscale, fancy golf cart until we reach an elevated clearing overlooking the private course. The course opens up beyond the estate, rolling greens carved naturally into the jungle landscape. It’s surreal out here. I’m almost envious of people who get to live here and see this every day.
He parks the cart beside a small wooden rack holding a set of clubs already laid out, like someone anticipated our arrival.
Jerome steps out first, grabs a driver, and tosses one to me.
“Thought we’d start here,” he says, nodding toward the fairway stretching out before us.
I watch him set up, suddenly missing the bond we’d shared once upon a time. Golfing, football, and basketball games used to be our thing.
“How has everything been going for you?” he asks, settling into position behind the ball. He concentrates and then pulls the club back and hits the ball with a loud thunk.
“Uh, well, it’s been good. I can’t complain.” I answer, watching the ball fly through the air.
“What about work? Writing anything new?”
“Yeah, I am actually. Something that’s a little different, so I’m not speaking too much on it just in case I change my mind.”
“Trust me, I know how that is. I feel the same way with my music.”
Jerome falls silent. Focusing on his aim. He swings. The ball lands somewhere along the fairway, and we take our time climbing back into the cart, driving toward it. I hesitate, unsure how to respond or whether I should.
I haven’t had a heart-to-heart with Jerome in a long time. I disappeared after everything with Carina and Gavin happened, but he’d made it his priority to check in on me every now and again. My responses were always short and clipped, hoping that would push him away, but Jerome never left. And now that he’s brought me here, I feel bad. He’s only tried to show me he cares, and that’s proven right here and now.
“Yeah, the idea stemmed from what happened. It’s a book of poems. My agent says they’re too angry,” I laugh to soften the mood. But Jerome’s face remains stoic.
We finally park and step out of the cart, heading towards his target.
“You know, I don’t condone what Carina and Gavin did. Hell, I was thrown for a loop myself, cause I had no idea. I do want you to know that.”
“I believe you,” I say quietly.
“I was disappointed in both of them. And disappointed by how you left, although I don’t blame you. But it felt…like I’d lost a son.”
We reach his ball, and he takes a practice swing before settling into his stance.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. My mind wasn’t in a good space then. By the time I got right, so much time had passed I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”
“That’s where you went wrong. I’ll always have time for you, Othello. I still think of you as family. You can call me whenever you need me.”
Thank you. I’ll remember that.”
“How are things between you and Gavin?”
The same as they’ve been since everything fell apart.
“We’ve been cordial, but we still haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”
“I know it’s hard, you being here.”
“Very.”
It’s my turn to shoot. I line myself up with the ball, adjusting my grip on the club.
I draw the club back and drive through with as much strength as I can muster. We both track the ball as it floats through the blue sky. Seconds later it drops onto the fairway a few yards short of the green.
Muscle memory.
“Told ya, Jerome smirks. “You still got it.”
