Wood & Iron

Chapter 6

As the pictures scrolled on the screen, Alex and Liv stood at the other end of the room, sipping champagne and ignoring the stares of the middle-aged men who acted like they'd never seen a miniskirt before.

"They're all the same, aren't they?"

Alex giggled at her sister-in-law, thinking that she was speaking of the 50-year-olds who had been staring at her legs since the moment she walked into the room. But when she turned her head, she realized that Liv was watching Benji watch the pictures of his father on the massive television.

It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, so it didn't take long for Alex to figure out what Liv was talking about.

It had been a couple of years since the first time that Liv brought up her frustration to Morgan and Alex. The guys had gone to the coast for a weekend golf trip, so Alex was the one who pulled the fire pit down to the street on Friday for a girls' night.

"I think something's wrong with my marriage."

Liv had said it so bluntly that it caught the other two off guard.

Morgan replied with only two words: "What's wrong?" But her tone and body language told Liv that she'd be there for her no matter what, and she could tell her anything without an ounce of judgment.

"It's not that he doesn't talk to me... he does. It's just that when we talk, our conversations seem about an inch deep. We used to tell each other everything. But now, when I can tell that something's wrong, I can barely get a word out of him. I swear to god, if I hear I'm fine or I don't really want to talk about it one more freaking time, I'm gonna lose my mind."

In the moment, Alex let Morgan do her thing. She was so good at encouraging someone who was hurting and doing it in a way that didn't minimize the pain or make them feel small. So that night around the fire, she simply listened as Morgan talked Liv off the ledge.

But a couple of weeks later, she broached the subject with her sister-in-law over a morning coffee.

"You know, it hasn't been bad for a couple years, but Adam can get the exact same way."

Liv seemed surprised. "Really? He always comes across as so caring and confident."

Alex rolled her eyes. "That's his defense mechanism. When everything hits the fan, it's almost like he thinks he's the only one who can fix the problem... like the problem, whatever it is, grows like a weed if anybody else knows about it."

Liv nodded as if to say that's precisely what she'd been feeling with Benji.

Those words hung in the air while their coffee cooled between them.

"I think," Liv paused as if trying to convince herself of what she was about to say, "I think I'm going to ask him to go to counseling."

Alex leaned forward and raised her eyebrows. "Good luck with that."

Now, at Henry and Meg's 40th anniversary party, Alex stood there with her sister-in-law, remembering how desperate Liv had seemed during those first conversations, and trying herself not to appear that desperate now. It was one thing to say that she and Adam had gone through similar spells in the past, but it was another thing entirely to admit that one of those spells was happening now.

"Yeah, they are all the same."

Across the room, Adam sat at a table with his father and a few of the club's long-time members, his back intentionally turned to the larger-than-life television chronicling the four decades of his parents' marriage.

"So there we were," one of the older guys at the table had his arm around the man on his left, "on the fairway at sixteen, and right after a perfect tee shot, he launches it straight into the woods. I mean, this was one of the worst shots you've ever seen."

They'd all heard this story a hundred times. But that's how it is in the clubhouses of country clubs: every story is told over and over... as if it were the first time. So they all sipped their drinks and listened to what happened to Gary and Doug on the course almost 15 years before.

"And we hear this rustling in the trees... but not right away. This was a solid twenty seconds after the shot landed. I was already lining up my second, and all the sudden, Doug's ball comes shooting out of the rough. We looked at each other like we'd just seen a ghost. And then..."

They all knew what was coming next.

"And then this black bear emerges from the forest and gets up on his hind legs... maybe forty yards away."

They'd said the mammal was 120 yards away the day it happened. The distance had shrunk as the story grew over the years.

"And he stared at us and let out the loudest roar I've ever heard. But what I heard next was even louder..."

Again, everyone at the table had heard this story enough to tell it themselves.

"Doug's scream was scarier than the bear's!"

The whole table broke into laughter, partially because of the story, and partially because of the predictability of Gary's words and timing.

"Yeah, but..." Doug interrupted right on cue. Adam had to stop himself from mouthing Doug's punchline along with him. "But that was the best round of my life. I shot a 79!"

"Yeah!" It was almost like they rehearsed this. "Because we didn't finish the last three holes!"

Again, the whole table erupted in laughter, causing half the party to turn their heads.

"To Henry!" Gary raised his whiskey glass and reveled in the fact that all eyes were on him. "For creating this place, and by doing so, allowing all of us to create some of the best memories of our lives."

"To Henry!" They all replied in unison and clinked their whiskey glasses together.

Adam's dad smiled and looked around the room with pride.

"You know," Gary pointed his glass toward Adam. "You did good with this one, Henry."

The rest of the old guys at the table nodded in agreement.

"I'll be the first to admit, when you said you were stepping down, I didn't know if Adam had it in him. But the apple didn't fall far from the tree. And watching him these last few years... it's like watching a carbon copy of you from the early days."

Adam's eyes shot to the floor. He was used to being compared to his father. They looked alike, sounded similar, and handled most situations the same. His entire life, Adam felt an immense amount of pride in the fact that he resembled his father. But these past few months, that pride had not just disappeared. It was being replaced with shame.

As Gary spoke across the table, all that was going through Adam's mind was the now familiar internal refrain: You're nothing like your father. Your dad would never do what you've done.

The combination of Gary's compliment and Adam's internal guilt made sitting at this table too much to bear. He drained his glass and stood.

"I'm gonna grab another. Good to see you guys."

He did his best to make eye contact with everyone at the table before he exited, a lesson he learned from his dad. But as his gaze found his father's, Henry looked at him quizzically. To Adam, it appeared that his dad was looking right through him, and suddenly, his desire for another drink wasn't as strong as his desire to be alone. So he bypassed the bar, walked down the hallway, and shut his large oak office door behind him.