19th Hole

Chuck Tremblow had just lost another round of golf to his old college roommate Kacky Rosenthall. He walked away from the 18th green hurling one club after another into the woods. First the putter, then the nine. His cart-wheeling driver sailed over three small linden trees, and his five iron flew farther still, hitting a sturdy oak and careening into a marsh.

Freed of his clubs, dumping his bag at his feet, Chuck felt the rage dissipate. All the frustration, built up over four hours of play, left his body, and a calm descended. Kacky had seen it before. He said nothing. He knew Chuck would be fine by the time the two sat down for a drink at the club house. Young caddies chased after the clubs and claimed them, a grounds worker retrieved the leather golf bag and awarded it to one of the more seasoned lads. Inside the bag the teenager found money, brand new golf balls, expensive cigars and prescription pain killers. They all knew better than to ask Chuck if he wanted any of it back. He never did.

Over highballs at the clubhouse Chuck and Kacky talked about anything but golf. Kacky spoke of making love to his wife the night before.

"We weren't even drinking," Kacky said. "It was just one of those nights. In the bedroom, all I could see were her eyes. They looked just like I remembered them in college. I felt like I was in some kind of time warp, like we never got married, never had kids. I had all this energy. I thought,  is there a full moon or something? How do I hang on to this feeling?"

Chuck listened and began the well-worn process of comparing his life to Kacky's. Was he as happy? Was his wife as wonderful, were his kids as smart?  He hated doing so, but any time Kacky had a good story, showcasing a fine moment in his existence, Chuck ransacked his memory for one to match. Or at least one that made him feel as good.

On this occasion, however, little was forthcoming. So he substituted with honesty.

"My wife and I had some pretty romantic times in the early years. Now, it's strange. We still make love but its gotten too familiar. The other night, right in the middle of an intimate session, she asked me if I had gotten to the bank earlier in the day. I had, but that isn't the point. The point is, what the devil was that question doing in her head when I'm on top of her? I'm giving her my full attention as a lover, and she has her mind on errands I'm supposed to have run."

Kacky nodded empathetically. But he couldn't help wondering: if Chuck had tossed his expensive set of clubs after a frustrating golf game, what had he done after his wife's bedroom faux pas?

A waitress brought fresh drinks.

"Those are on me, bastards." shouted Dan Vinelli. "Move over."

Chuck and Kacky shifted over to make room for Big Dan, a clubhouse regular. The man easily weighed  350 pounds and wore it all in the middle. The sound of his painful exhale as he sat made the two wince slightly.

"God, I shot lousy today," Dan said. "Might be time to give it up."

Kacky looked at Chuck to see if he'd respond, but Chuck wasn't about to talk golf.

"Well, Danno, we all have days like that."

"One year to retirement, boys," Dan said. "One more year and it's over. Lord, what am I going to do with all that time?"

"You'll improve your game," Kacky said. "You'll take a couple more trips with Sherry. You'll baby sit a grandkid or two, same thing we're all going to do."

"Not me," Chuck interrupted. "I'm not golfing when I retire. I'm hanging up the clubs. And I'm not watching my grandkids. They live on the other side of the country. I'm going to move up to the cabin with Theresa and park my carcass for the duration. You boys want to see me you'll have to come visit. I ain't coming back. Not even for reunions."

"You going to fly the flag upside down as well," Dan said. "Stop paying taxes, buy a shot gun?"

"Joke all you want, fat man, but I'm tired. Tired of my neighbors and their yipping mutt, the way they have to wash that car up on the lawn every Saturday. Tired of traffic and junk mail. Tired of the busload of crap that visits this city on any given week. I see only one area that still works, fellas, trees and lakes. After all these years they still work. They still give me something. It's the only reason I got into golf, you know. I took it up to walk on the grass and see the trees and the water. The game was Satan's creation, but I played to be out in the fresh air, looking at chipmunks and hawks."

"Yeah, you sure played like that was your goal," Dan said. "I don't think you've improved more than four strokes since you started."

"No, and that's worn me out as well. I hate the game, hate it. It won't let me in, it won't let me win. I've given a great deal to it and gotten very little in return."

"Had some nice walks," Kacky said. "Saw some wildlife."

"Could have done that at the lake. Should have done that at the lake. That's what I'm saying. When retirement comes it's up to the lake for good. Just me and Theresa. It'll be just like it was when we first met."

"It'll never be like it was when you first met, Chuck. Those days are over, buddy."

"Oh is that right, Dan? Why don't you ask Kacky here about that? Tell him Kacky. Tell him about last night."

"Oh," Kacky said, suddenly embarrassed.  "I had just been telling Chuck how last night Rachel and I had one of those intimate evenings that reminded me of the old days."

Dan shook his head. "Boys, you make me laugh. You two and your old days. The old days were good for one thing and one thing only. Energy. We had energy. You couldn't tire us out. Had it in the morning, had it all night. But we were stupid about it. We didn't know what to do with it. Chuck you didn't know how to treat a woman, Kacky you didn't know how to keep a job. I didn't know how to talk to people smarter than I was. None of us knew what the hell life was all about. All of us were selfish and couldn't imagine giving the time of day to a new born baby, let alone changing diapers. We drank away too many nights, gold bricked too many days. We were still adolescents in our late 20's. Stop romancing the past, gentleman. You're better men now and your wives are better women. Grab a hold of today. It's a pretty good God-damned day."

Kacky didn't say anything. He took a sip of his vodka and looked over at the clock above the bar. Chuck stared out the club's picture window, out beyond the carpet of grass, into the woods. The hawks outside circled above the course as a gust of wind shook the aspen leaves.