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We connected with our caddies and walked out onto the green together. It was a small tournament, just among the patrons of the country club. That didn’t mean it was devoid of fanfare. The club made as big a deal out of it as they could, with a breakfast buffet and a catered lunch afterwards. They had flyers printed and posted throughout the building, proclaiming the exclusivity of the tournament.
There was supposed to be a celebrity in attendance. She was a professional golfer, a high-ranking player in the LPGA. We all collected at the tee off, and there was quite a turnout. At least fifty people were in attendance, circled around the players. I spotted some family members and a few other club members I knew by name and reputation.
The prize for the tournament was ten thousand dollars. It wasn’t a rich pot, but it was enough to qualify the event for the national golf publications. It was my third year competing, and I planned to donate the money if I won. There was a golf charity that held summer camps for underprivileged kids. It was generally expected that if anyone with means won the tournament, they would hand over their earnings to that charity. The only thing really on the line was bragging rights.
As I worked through the green, my phone kept buzzing. I looked down the first time to find that it was one of my regular hookups. She was asking about drinks and blatantly suggesting that we get together. I ignored it. I would answer when I had a minute to spare, but for the time being, I wasn’t interested.
We were on the ninth hole when my father approached. I didn’t see him at first, focused as I was on my swing. As soon as the ball left the tee and soared into the air, I heard his voice and cursed under my breath.
“Nate!” he called drunkenly.
I looked at Peter. “If I don’t score under par, I’m going to blame it on him.”
“I think he’s spotted you,” Peter replied dryly.
I turned around to greet my father, opening my arms for the obligatory hug. He dove right in, dragging me off my feet before slamming me back down again. Among my father’s many annoying habits was his propensity to demonstrate his physical prowess. He had to be the biggest man in the room, and he never tired of proving his superiority. Or maybe he was just happy to see me; it was hard to tell.
I couldn’t stop the wave of anger that crashed over me at the sight of him. What he did to my mother was bad enough, but the fact that he didn’t even care about his secretary was almost too much. I thought if he was genuinely in love with another woman, that might have made a difference. His playing the field when he was married with a child felt like a betrayal not only to my mother, but also to me.
“Hi Dad,” I said, putting on my game face. I was accustomed to hiding my displeasure. It served me well in business, as well as in golf, and it would also serve me well in my personal life, it seemed.
“How was your first week at the helm?” he asked, swaying a little in the sun.
“Are you drunk?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself; it just slipped out.
“No,” he snapped. “Just interested in how my son is doing.”
“I’m doing fine,” I replied testily. “It looks like you did manage to hand me a mostly functioning concern.”
“What’s this,mostlyfunctioning?” he burped. “It’s a powerhouse of a company.”
“Congratulations,” I said with a smile.
“I bet you fired Lauren,” he accused me, pointing with an unsteady finger.
“Can we not talk about this now?” I asked.
There were other people around, some of whom were taking an interest. Peter looked away awkwardly, not wanting to get involved. I could tell he was anxious to go on to the next hole, and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t want to drag the conversation on any longer than I had to.
“She was a good woman,” Dad snapped.
“I don’t care,” I retorted.
“It’s not her fault.”
“She knew that you were married.” I tried to keep my voice down, but the depth of emotion I was experiencing made that hard.
“It was over with your mother.” My father wasn’t giving me the same respect. His voice echoed across the green.
I turned away. There were so many things wrong with that statement. To begin with, it hadn’t been over between him and my mother. They had still been married when he slept with Lauren. To add insult to injury, Lauren wasn’t the only one that Dad had had extramarital relations with. I didn’t know the names of the rest of them, but both Mom and I knew there were others.
It didn’t matter. What was past was past. Mom was moving on, and I needed to as well. It just hurt, and to compound the injury, Dad didn’t even appreciate what he had done. He thought it was meaningless, and that Mom and I were being overly sensitive. I wanted to throttle him, but the dozens of people who were looking but trying not to look like they were looking gave me pause.
I grabbed my nine iron and stalked off to the next hole. I kept my head down for the rest of the game, determined to ignore that ogre. I didn’t know where he went after confronting me, and I didn’t care. I wished I could revoke his club membership. That might prove to him that he had done something wrong.
I hated the cavalier way he aired our dirty laundry. Skeletons were supposed to stay in the closet, not be brought out to dance when there was company. Peter tried to make light of the situation, joking about how wild my father’s hair was. I had to admit, he looked a little bit like Boris Johnson. The comparison was good, and it kept my mind from veering off the tracks into dark territory.
We didn’t win the tournament. I wasn’t surprised. After the ninth hole, my game was off considerably. The prize went to Steve Miller, an investment banker. I waited in line to congratulate him and applauded when he made the obligatory speech.
