Dirty Laundry [N.H.]

Hole in One

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The sun is beating down stronger than ever on this mid July afternoon. The sun is so blinding and so hot — so hot that my eyes are having trouble seeing where I'm going, making me have to squint my eyes to look outside.

"I'm leaving!" I call out to my parents, running down to my car to head towards my job. I'm probably running super late by now — my shift having started ten minutes ago — but that isn't my fault. I always get distracted by the vinyls in my room. I lose myself in the music every time I put them on to get ready for work, and then I end up dancing and singing along, making me lose track of time.

My tennis skirt flies out behind me softly. My hair is up in a high ponytail, my bright pink polo t-shirt is tight on my chest, and a visor is on my head to keep my skin from burning on this scorching hot day. It's uniform, but I also can't lie and say that I don't love the way I look in it.

I love my job as a beer cart girl. It's something I've been doing every summer for about four years now since I was 21 years old. Now that I'm 25, it seems like the perfect job to help me pay off my student loans and shit. I get good money from it but I also get to spend my time outdoors, something I love to do.

It's always a plus that I get to be around attractive people, but as the years have gone by it's always been the same regulars that come and go on the golf course. Nothing has ever happened with any of them, they've always just been some small mindless crush that I eventually ended up getting over by the end of the summer.

I want something new, something exciting, and I'm hoping that maybe this summer will give me just that.

I've had a couple of past relationships before, but none of them were ever too serious. I either never saw myself long-term with them, or they just never pleased me in a way that I wanted to be. Getting older now, it was something I was eager to find. Someone who knew how to treat me the way that I deserved to be treated.

I make my way to the golf course quickly, cutting the ten minute drive in half, and hurriedly get out, practically sprinting up the steps and into the employee room to place my bag there. "Talia!" My manager yells out, and I swivel around to see him standing at the door with a disappointed look on his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know! I just- I promise I won't be late again. I swear!"

He shakes his head as he approaches me, handing me the set of keys to my usual cart that I take. "It's fine. Now go, you're already late as it is." I quickly nod my head, tightening my hold on the keys before I sprint out to my cart, my tennis shoes smacking against the pavement as I do.

I quickly fill up my cart with a mixture of beers, waters, gatorades, and some snacks before I'm on my way to start my services for the day. The first hour of my shift goes by pretty quickly with my tips quickly beginning to add up. and I'm happy that this is looking to be a better than average day.

I haven't come across any snarky or rude golfers which is a first for me, considering I usually encounter at least one person who forgets that I'm a person just trying to do my fucking job.

I see a lot of my regulars here but it's only when I catch sight of what looks to be a very stuffed golf bag on the back of a cart that I'm confused. I've never seen that golf bag here before, never mind one that is full to the brim, telling me that these guys must be new and possibly sharing a bag. I slowly make my way over to them, hoping to get a quick glance of who they are and to see if they want anything from my cart. Maybe they'll give me good tips.

"You boys want some beer?" I yell out, driving up to their parked cart. As I get closer, I realize that it's just one lone golfer, unusual for this time of year and even in general at this course, especially with as many clubs as he's got. We usually have groups that come out here and the only lone golfers I see are the really old men, ones who tend to get too bold when they realize it's just me and them on the course.