Above Par - Olympic Edition

Chapter 23 - Return to the Green

Frederic:

My mother's absence lingered in every corner of our home. It had been some months now since her passing, and yet, I stood in the kitchen, cleaning dishes that didn't need to be cleaned, anything to keep my mind occupied. My father had retreated into himself after her passing, leaving me to pick up the slack and manage the household tasks he used to handle with ease.

As I dried a plate, my father entered the kitchen, his presence a shadow of the man he used to be. He watched me for a moment, his expression softening as he spoke. "Frederic, you have your own life to live, your own house to look after. You don't need to keep doing my chores."

I shrugged, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. "It's not a problem, Dad. I'm here to help."

He shook his head, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "I appreciate everything you've done, son. But you need to get back to what you love. You need to start living for yourself again."

I knew he was right, but the thought of returning to golf was daunting. The game that had once been my passion now felt tainted by memories I wasn't ready to face. Every swing of the club reminded me of Felix and the whirlwind of emotions I had tried to suppress.

"I don't know if I still love it, Dad," I admitted, setting the dish aside and leaning against the counter. "Golf used to mean everything to me, but now... I don't know."

My father nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know it's been hard. But you can't let this keep you from doing what you're meant to do. Your mother always believed in your talent. She'd want you to keep going. And golf, well, it might take your mind off things."

He paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "I've been talking to the PGA. They're eager to have you back for a comeback tour. They still believe in you, Fred."

The idea of returning to the professional circuit was both thrilling and terrifying. I missed the game, missed the competition, but the thought of facing it all without my mother's support felt like an insurmountable challenge.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready," I confessed, the words heavy with doubt.

"Just think about it," my father urged gently. "Take your time, but don't give up on something you love because she's gone."

His words lingered in the air, a reminder that life continued even in the face of loss. I knew he was right, but moving forward felt like a betrayal of the past six months, of the grief that had become a familiar companion.

As I stood there, contemplating the future, a part of me longed for the simplicity of the golf course, for the way the world narrowed down to the swing of the club and the thrill of the game. But another part of me, the part still clinging to the memory of Felix, hesitated, unsure if I could ever truly move on.

"I'll think about it," I finally said, a tentative promise to myself and to my father.

He nodded, relief in his eyes. "That's all I ask, son. Your mother would be proud of you, no matter what you choose."

With those words echoing in my mind, I realized that the path forward wasn't as clear as I'd hoped. But perhaps it was time to let go of the fear and uncertainty and take a step back onto the course, not just for myself but for the memory of the woman who had always believed in me.

***

By May, I found myself in North Carolina, standing on the green of this year's PGA course. It felt strange to be back, the Carolina sun casting long shadows as I prepared for my first round. Beside me was Tom, my old caddy, who had fully recovered from the bad sprain that had kept him away during the Olympics.

"Ready to give them a show?" Tom asked, handing me a club with a grin.

I took it, nodding, but my mind was elsewhere. The feel of the club in my hand brought back memories I wasn't prepared to face. I lined up my shot, trying to focus, but the name slipped out before I could stop it. "Thanks, Felix."

Tom chuckled softly, not missing a beat. "I see someone's on your mind."

I grimaced, straightening up and looking at Tom with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Tom. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," he said, brushing it off with a nod. "I figured there was something more to that Olympic caddy of yours. You were different when you came back."

"Can we not talk about it?" I asked, trying to shake off the embarrassment and focus on the game.

"Sure thing, Fred," Tom replied.

I tried to push thoughts of Felix aside, but the memories lingered, casting a shadow over my concentration. The first round didn't go well. My swing was off, my focus scattered, and I finished with a rank far lower than I'd hoped for.

As I walked off the course, frustration gnawed at me. This wasn't the result I was hoping for, and it was maddening to realize that being back on the green only intensified the memories of Felix. Why couldn't I get him out of my mind, even now, months after the Olympics? It had only been a week, so how could I feel so close to someone I barely knew? As much as I wanted to deny it, the lingering thoughts of him were a constant reminder of how deeply he had affected me, and that was perhaps the most frustrating part of all.