12 Strokes of Midnight

Chapter 2

   Copyright Ⓒ 2018 by B. Bailey All Rights Reserved     

"Good shot!" Mr. Challens yells, lifting his own club up in the air. "Hole in one!"

A hole in one. The most exciting part of my day.

Grandpa said he wanted me to meet his friends and have "guy time". That I wouldn't be treated like a little kid, Nope. No kids here. Just a short caddy.

I lean my chin on my hand as I stare out over the green fields, wondering how far I could manage to push the caddy on its wheels I kicked it, feeling my brain itch as the team tallies up their points. At first, it sounded like it would be interesting, trying to get a tiny ball into a far away hole with a big stick (which I am only to refer to as clubs because they are much higher quality than a stick).

But I'm not even playing.

My brain isn't all that's itchy. I've spent more time in the sun today than I have in the last month with all of the studying I've been doing. Maybe I should have brought the homemade organic sunblock with after all. It sounded stupid at the time when Grandma offered it to me because I don't sunburn easily.

At least she has plenty of aloe vera for the burns. Her greenhouse is loaded with those plants.

"Did you see the way he shifted his weight for that swing?" Grandpa asks me, walking up and putting away his club before reaching for one of the widest clubs, which he called a wood. "The smooth flow of motion and hip rotation are keys to physical power. You have to be focused and controlled to beat the odds."

"I know," I admit, having heard my Dad say that for forever. I suppose it makes sense his Dad told him that.

"You know," he admits with a wide smile, looking out over the fields and he cracks his back. "This green is the flattest. Do you want to try it out?" He turns around, holding the wood he grabbed out to me.

I stand up straight, surprised. These old guys have made it clear that their golf clubs are seriously important - some said more important than their wives. I think they were kidding (maybe).

Watching people hit balls is interesting for the first hour. After five I felt ready to rip off my shirt and find more fun watching it unthread from the seams. Being able to hit the ball is much less boring.

"Yes! Thank you, Grandpa,!" I yell, running around the bag to hug him.

"Your welcome Ray!" He laughs, sounding extremely pleased. "Do you think you have the rules down and have seen enough to try it?"

"Set the tee, place the ball, measure the green, choose the appropriate club and swing with the distance and terrain in mind," I repeat, having seen this since sunrise.

"Yes! And you have to grip the club hard," he explains, wrapping his hand over mine on the shaft. "Make sure it doesn't fly out of your hand and hit someone. Those are made of solid metal and it will hurt."

With that stated he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a glove. I didn't know he kept a spare. For some reason, golfers only have one glove so I suppose that it makes sense a seasoned golfer would want a second around if they misplaced their glove.

Except it looks smaller...

"I bought you a full set as soon and your parents asked if you could come down for the summer," he explains with a wide smile. "I figured you should spend a day getting the lay of the land and learning the rules before having at it."

Whoa. That is amazing. I didn't know he was so excited to have me down here. Last night we had a big family dinner and then Mom and Dad were out on the first flight at dawn. All they did was talk about what they've accomplished and what we have. Grandma and Grandpa talked about how much they've expanded on their bee farm and how retirement has been.