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out in the backyard, savannah and ryan were trying their hand at golf, each taking turns under sandy's patient tutelage. seth, floating leisurely in the pool, waited to catch any stray balls—a task made frequent by savannah's unpredictable swings.
"alright knees bent," sandy instructed, watching savannah closely. she bent her knees, though too deeply, "not quite that much, back straight, eyes right over the ball, feet a little closer together." savannah shifted her stance again, "just off your left foot, there you go, not quite that close together but," she adjusted, albeit imperfectly, "that's okay, alright, just let it hang like a pendulum, nice and easy," sandy demonstrated the motion, swaying his hands, "nice and easy keep breathing, nice and easy," he noticed savannah's eyes locked on him, a mix on frustration and confusion, "...ill stop ill s- ill just," he gestured behind him, "go right over here."
savannah inhaled deeply, focusing on the ball. her swing was full of determination, but the ball veered wildly and splashed into the pool.
"i got it!" seth called, triumphantly emerging from the water with the ball held high.
frustration etched on her face, savannah slammed the club into the grass repeatedly. sandy, ryan, and seth watched, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "this is humiliating," she muttered, breathless and visibly upset.
"alright, one more try," sandy encouraged, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "no, no more," ryan interjected, hoping to prevent another angry episode.
"come on, she was doing great at the driving range," sandy insisted. "i don't play golf. i surf," savannah said curtly, shoving the club back at sandy.
"not true, sis. you just don't play well," seth teased from his spot in the pool, grinning mischievously. savannah glared at him. "thanks." she shot back.
"what does it matter? i'm not good at it either," ryan chimed in. "you know there's plenty more to do in palm springs other then play golf. you can spa." sandy suggested, his tone lightening.
"no, i don't spa," ryan retorted, shaking his head firmly. "i can spa, i guess," savannah conceded, shrugging.
"you don't play golf, you don't spa. what do you do?" sandy asked ryan, eyebrows raised in mock curiosity.
"yeah, ryan, what exactly do you do besides musicals and punching people?" seth added, mimicking a posh accent that made savannah chuckle despite her frustration.
"he's very good with the ladies," sandy observed with a smirk. "ah, the ladies! he is very good with the ladies," seth echoed, still in character. "very good with the ladies," sandy imitated, drawing out the words for comedic effect.
