Chapter 4

This time, Mrs. Parsons drove us out to the country club in her own personal car. It wasn't as big as the one that Hans had driven us in, but it was a nice car. She didn't speak to me at all on the drive over to the country club, and I was afraid to ask her if she was mad at me for what happened the night before. As soon as we got there, she took me down to where Mr. Chalmers had taken me. She didn't bring any golf clubs with her though. We went past where I'd stopped the first time, with Mr. Chalmers, walking around the corner, and over towards the other end of the big building. Mrs. Parsons walked over to a door which turned out to be a store. It had clothes, clubs, balls and golf shoes. She asked the man behind the counter where Dave was. He picked up a phone and spoke into it. When he put the phone down, he told Mrs. Parsons that Dave would be coming down to see her in just a few minutes. In two or three minutes a short, dark haired man, about fifty years old, came into the store and walked over to us. Even though he had a paunchy stomach, there was something about him that made him look exceptionally healthy. He seemed to radiate energy and vitality.

"Bertie, its really good to see you again. Its been too long since we've had you out here with us. Where have you been keeping yourself?" He came closer and the two of them exchanged a big hug and he kissed Mrs. Parsons on her cheek.

"Hello, Dave. It's really good of you to see us like this, especially when I didn't give you advance warning that we were coming out today. This young man is Kenny Masters. He's going to be staying with us from now on, and I wanted to get him started learning to play golf. Do you think you could find some time to fit him in for a few swinging lessons? Just enough to get him well started on developing a sound, fundamental, swing."

"Bertie, you know I always have time for you and yours. I've got some time this morning in fact, if he's ready to get started." He looked over at me then, and I felt like he was taking all of my measurements in his mind, almost the same way that tailor for my suits had, except Dave didn't seem to need a tape measure. After a few seconds he spoke to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you Kenny. Tell me a little bit about yourself. First, how old are you?"

"Thank you, sir. I'm almost fifteen."

"What kind of games do you most like to play?"

"I used to like baseball, but I stopped playing when I got too big for the other kids."

"I don't understand. What do you mean when you say you got too big?"

"I grew up in an orphanage. The other kids were all younger and smaller than me."

"All right. Tell me about golf. How much do you already know about it?"

"I saw people playing it on television, and I came out here with Mr. Chalmers, and watched him play some."

"Did you ever try it for yourself?"

"No sir, but it looks like a lot of fun."

"It is, Kenny. The thing is though, the better you play, the more fun it is. Some people, like Mr. Chalmers for example, don't appreciate the game as much as they could, if only they really understood it. I've given up on him though."

"Dave, I'd like you to measure and fit Kenny for a set of clubs. If you have a set of loaners for him, while you're making up his clubs, I'd like for you to take him out to the range and get him started with some swing training. I'll go out too, and hit some balls, to keep myself busy, and to keep you and Kenny company."

"Bertie, I think we're both in luck that you came by today. I've got a nice new set that is pretty standard. I made it up for a guy who never came back to pick them up after ordering them from me. I think they'd be a good fit for Kenny, at least until I find out what his swing is going to look like. After we find that out, I can bend them a little to adjust things for his particular swing. The man gave me a deposit of half down too, when I fitted him, so I can make you a real good deal on the set. It comes with a nice bag, and three woods. This is what I'd recommend we do, because then, we can go out and start hitting some balls right away."

"That sounds perfect. Can you get someone to bring up my clubs too?"

"Why don't you two head on over to the range, Bertie, and I'll get someone to bring the clubs over to you? I'll meet you over there in five minutes."

We went out of the store, then turned right again, and went around to the far side of the building. When we turned the corner, there was a real big green there, with a lot of holes cut in it, and little flag sticks sticking up about two feet above the holes. Mrs. Parsons told me it was the place golfers came to practice their putting. We went past that putting green, on over to a place that had a big fence all the way down the left hand side. There was netting up all the way, and it was at least forty feet tall. There were telephone poles about every fifty feet that the netting was hung from. The grass over there was all torn up from people hitting golf balls.

We found a place where the grass was all nice and smooth, and Mrs. Parsons showed me some stretching exercises to do so that I wouldn't pull a muscle when I tried to golf. We were still doing those exercises when Dave came over with another man who was carrying two golf bags, and two big containers filled with golf balls. It looked like each bucket had about two hundred balls in them.

Dave showed me each of the clubs in my new set, and explained about how they were supposed to work. He spent about half an hour showing me how he held the clubs in his hands, and then he started hitting balls with each of the clubs. He wasn't anything like Mr. Chalmers when he hit a golf ball. First, he didn't swing as hard as Mr. Chalmers, but his balls went a lot farther, and were a whole lot straighter. I saw they were set up so that the higher the number on the club, the less distance he could hit it. I was getting worried that he wasn't going to let me try to hit balls too. Mrs. Parsons had moved about twenty feet to the left of where we were, taking one of the buckets and her clubs, and she had started in hitting some balls on her own. I took a few peeks, but Dave still got almost all of my attention. I noticed his grip on the club was a lot different than Mr. Chalmers had been. The biggest difference was that Dave had his right hand tilted a lot more on top of the club than Mr. Chalmers had his. When Dave put a club in my hand and made me try to make my hands the same as his were, it seemed unnatural to me. I showed him how Mr. Chalmers held his, and he just laughed.

"The grip is the cornerstone of building a good golf game. Without a good grip, you can't ever be a good golfer. The grip is the secret to having a repeatable swing, and a repeatable swing is the only way anyone can manage to strike the ball consistently. Bunny's grip causes him to spray the ball all over the place. I bet I've tried to get him to change it a thousand times over the last thirty years. He doesn't want to change it though, says it feels comfortable to him. You need to learn a good grip right from the start, it's that important to the building of a good golf game."

He started letting me hit golf balls with a nine iron. He would let me hit a few, and then he'd keep putting me back in the posture he'd set me in the first time. I started being able to hit the ball better after about ten minutes, making it fly in the air a lot of the time, and out in the general direction that I was aiming for. After an hour, he set up a time for me to come back the next day. He told me not to hit anymore, but to watch Mrs. Parsons while she practiced. I went over and sat in the grass by her. She had hit about half of her big bucket already. She smiled at me, and told me that she was really enjoying herself. We talked about golf, and about how good a teacher Dave was. She seemed like she was feeling better, less worried than she had seemed on the way over to the club earlier.

"Did you enjoy your first lesson, Kenny?"

"Yes, but I wish I could hit the ball better. Mine didn't go very far when I hit them. Not nearly as far as yours do."

"What were you hitting? What number club?"

"A nine."

She took the club she had been using back to the bag, putting it away. She looked around in her bag, then selected her nine iron. When she began hitting balls with her nine iron, I saw that her balls didn't go that much farther than some of my best shots had gone. That made me feel better for some reason. Watching her hit balls, I could see the difference in her swing from Dave's. His had been practiced and controlled, where hers was smoother and looked more graceful. Her swing was pretty, while Dave's was only efficient. Both of them were able to hit the balls to the same place almost every time. I wondered who would win if they ever played against each other.

I watched her hitting with the longer clubs, the ones with the wooden mallets on them. These clubs made the ball go really far. Most of the time though, when Mrs. Parsons hit the ball with these clubs, it would start to curve off to the right. It looked a lot like the same thing Mr. Chalmers balls had done. She told me this was a slice. I could see that she didn't like the ball doing that, didn't like it, not even one tiny bit.

She didn't start cussing like Mr. Chalmers had though. She did start adjusting her feet, and changing the way she took the club back. After some changes, she started hitting some good ones that were included in with all the slices. About one good one for each two bad ones. I noticed on the good ones, she had a little pause, from the time she pulled the club back, until when she started moving it back towards the ball to hit it. When she sliced it, I didn't see any pause. Also, when she paused, the club seemed to move faster coming forward, and I could hear more of a wind noise as it cut through the air. The last thing I noticed was, on her good swings, the angle of her swing seemed more up and down, rather than side to side, like a baseball swing. I didn't say anything though, I just watched.

"What do you make of this, Kenny? Bunny said you saw something in his swing, just from watching it once."

"I'm not sure, but you seem like you hit it straight when you take it back slower and then wait just a half a second before swinging forward at the ball. When you do that, it doesn't look like you're swinging as hard, but the club makes a faster and louder sounding noise as it cuts through the air. On your good ones, you seem to be steadier when you hit the ball, like you are evenly balanced or something. I don't know if that makes sense to you or not. I bet Dave could say it a lot better."

"Dave isn't here, Kenny. Did you really notice all of that?"

"I just watched what you did, and then watched how the ball went. I'm not sure if any of what I saw is the reason why it goes like that."

She started trying to swing slower, taking practice swings only. Soon, she was making that noise on almost every swing. The noise when she was swinging down faster. Kind of like wind blowing in a closed area, that kind of noise. After a few more swings, I heard her say something that sounded like 'tempo'. She lined up with her stance perpendicular to the ball, wiggling her club directly behind the ball, and then she took a nice, smooth, swing. The ball lifted up and went as straight as an arrow before landing and rolling forward some distance further. She teed a few more up and hit all of them the same way. From the way she was smiling, she really liked the way she was hitting the ball.

"Kenny, do you want to try to play a few holes with me before lunch?"

"Really? All I know how to hit is my nine iron."

"We won't even try to keep your score. We'll just go out and have some fun. Would you like to try really playing?"

I told her that I would, and we walked back to behind the clubhouse and got a golf cart. She let me drive it. She went in and said something to the man inside the store, and then came back out again. She was smiling, and asked me if I was ready. We only played six holes. She really was a lot better player than Mr. Chalmers was. Watching her play was much different than watching him. She also explained how to mark scorecards, and told me about birdies and pars and bogey's. She made a birdie on the third hole, it was a par five. She made it onto the green in three, and then one putted for her birdie. I made an eight on that same hole, but I was using my nine iron and my putter. Mrs. Parsons told me I could use the other clubs, but I told her I wanted to learn the nine iron before I tried any of the other ones. Even with the nine iron though, I made it to the green in five and then took only three putts to make it. For the six holes, she shot one more than par, and was twenty four over. She said I did good for my first time playing. I thought I did pretty well too, but I knew I'd get better with some more practice.

We drove back, and the same guy came out who helped Mr. Chalmers and me that first time. He took care of everything just like he did before, but Mrs. Parsons didn't pay him any money like Mr. Chalmers had. He was a good sport about it though, and didn't say anything to her. We went up and went to the restaurant. After all of that exercise, I was really hungry. I got another cheeseburger just like before, but Mrs. Parsons ordered some kind of a salad for herself instead.

"Kenny, do you have any concerns about Mr. Parsons and I getting a divorce?"

"Does it mean you have to make any changes about me living at the house with you? Divorce is just the two of you stopping being married, right?"

"Yes, that's all it is. Now we're married, but soon, we won't be any longer. I hope that you'll still want to remain living with me. I enjoy your company, and I feel better having someone around to talk with, and to do things with, like play golf. I'm sure Bunny told you, and you've seen some of it for yourself, but I have these times when I'm not able to do things. I started having these times back when I was even younger than you are now, Kenny. I don't know why they happen. When they do, I just want to be alone. I'm not good company for anyone then. I like to pretend that I can just go off and hide from the world. It becomes a very sad time for me when I feel like this. Most people cannot understand, and they think less of me because I have this weakness. I hope you won't think less of me when it happens, Kenny. I don't think I could bear to see the same kind of disappointment and disapproval that I always received from Thomas during my periods of needing to be alone. He always referred to them as my 'ditzy times'. I think of them as either my melancholy or my moody periods."

"Have you gone to a doctor to find out the cause?"

"Many times, many doctors. They all agree that there is some mental cause. They disagree about what the cause is. To me, it doesn't matter why. If I could make it stop, I would. I hate not being able to float through life without a care in the world. I hate causing people I care about to have to worry. In my own way, I fight to try to minimize the effect it has over me."

"It bothers me to listen to you crying, but it doesn't disappoint me. I don't think I disapprove either. Aren't you just doing it because that's how you feel? It sounds like you don't want to have to go through all of that."

"I'm glad you understand that. Thomas thought it was something that I could turn on and off, if I just set my mind to it. It isn't like that."

"How come you didn't get a cheeseburger? Salads don't really fill you up like real food."

"I don't like being too full all the time. I'm only eating the salad to keep you company, and to keep you from becoming concerned about me. Normally, I don't eat even this much. Do you really think I need to gain some weight?"

"Sure. I do too, especially if we're going to do a lot of fun things like you said. Food is energy, that's what the sisters at St. Cecelia's always said. Gerta is such a good cook too, and she can make you whatever you want her to."

"I want to please you, Kenny. I don't like to disappoint people. I'll try to eat more, if that makes you happier, but not as much as you like to eat. My body doesn't process food as efficiently as yours does. Is that all right?"

"Sure, I guess it would be all right, especially if you ate as much as necessary to keep Gerta from worrying. I was going to ask Mr. Chalmers about Bea. You're still going to let her keep on being my friend aren't you?"

"I worry about some of her unhealthy habits when it comes to displaying friendship, Kenny. She is a young woman who has grown accustomed to using her body to achieve her purposes. You are a young boy, not even fifteen years old. I fear her becoming a corrupting influence on you."

"I like her, and she doesn't have any other friends around. I don't think she really likes me the way you think she does. I think she only pretended because Mr. Parsons asked her to."

"Kenny, you really are an innocent. At least I hope that you still are? Someone like Bea could take that innocence away from you, and once you've lost it, you can never get it back."

"I'm not so innocent, Mrs. Parsons. I think about those things all the time. Bea said she'd help me, and give me lessons about some things I want to learn."

"I don't want to discuss this with you, Kenny. Let's just consider that subject closed, shall we? The idea of Bea with you, in that way, it seems very wrong to me. If you wish to please me, you'll avoid any improprieties with her."

"There were times that I hated staying at the orphanage. Mostly it was because they kept making me do things I didn't want to do. Their rules were dumb, and only made it so they got to stay in control of everything. I never wanted to live like that, where other people were the only ones who got to decide what was best for me."

"Kenny, as much as it would hurt me to lose you, I'd rather do that right now, then allow you to dictate to me the limits you will tolerate for my authority in raising you. If I am to be the person in your life that I hope to be, I cannot give in to your attempt to coerce me into letting you have your own way with this. It isn't right for a boy as young as you are to experiment with sex, especially with a harlot."

"What about someone my own age then?"

"I still think you're far too young to experiment at all. However, with someone who was your own age, and who had a comparable level of experience, this would be more acceptable to me than Bea could ever be. Why do you feel the need to rush headlong into it? Why not enjoy these final years of your childhood? The rest will come naturally, Kenny, all in due time."

"I still think it should be me that gets to decide personal things like that. I'm grateful to you though, for letting me come stay with you. I'll try hard not to step over the limits that you set."

"I'll try not to be unreasonable about setting those limits. There are some things, however, that I feel very strongly about. Protecting you from being preyed upon, even if being preyed upon is now your single greatest wish and desire, is one of those things I feel strongest about."

"I just wanted to look at her. I've never seen a real girl like that before. She was going to show me, and tell me things to do with a woman."

"Kenny, that will be enough. This conversation is beginning to upset me now. I try to make allowances, really I do, but you seem deliberately to be trying to see how far you can push me."

"Let's change the subject then. How long do you think it will take before I'm good enough at golf to beat Bunny?" She laughed.

I think you'll be able to beat him in a month, if you practice. You would have to keep allowing Dave to help you with your game. You might be able to give me a real challenge in another year, but only if you work very hard at learning how to play. Would you like to beat Bunny?"

"Just so he could see that he should learn to play better than he does. I wouldn't want to beat him to make him feel bad. I thought if he saw how easy it was to learn how to play right, maybe he'd let Dave coach him, so that he could enjoy golf more than he does."

"That's very commendable. I have to warn you though that all of us have tried things like that before. Bunny prides himself on being able to resist getting better through lessons. He much prefers his own trial and error methods. He believes experience is the best teacher. You would think that all his golfing experience would have dissuaded him from that belief."

We finished eating, and this time we didn't order dessert. I would have liked another hot fudge sundae, but she didn't offer, and I wasn't going to ask. We drove home, and again, we didn't talk at all to each other. I didn't know, maybe she needed to keep all of her attention on driving. When we got home, she went up to her room and closed her bedroom door.

I went out into the kitchen and got to eat some of the strudel that Gerta had just taken out of the oven. That was really good, because it was still fresh and hot. I'd only eaten a few forkfuls when she came over with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I avoided being alone with Bea for the next few days, but she wasn't coming up to my room at night anymore anyway. Every morning Mrs. Parsons would take me out to the golf course. She would hit balls the whole time Dave was working with me. When my lesson was over, she and I would play nine holes together. I was getting better, and was using all of the irons now. Dave told me to leave my woods in the bag until after he'd taught me how to hit them. I finished the nine holes on the third day with a score of sixty three.

On the next morning after that, Mrs. Parsons claimed that she didn't feel well, making Hans take me for my golf lesson. She stayed up in her room the whole day. That night, before I went to sleep, I went to her room, but she wouldn't answer me when I tried to talk to her.

Mr. Chalmers hadn't come to see Mrs. Parsons since before Mr. Parsons was sent packing. Several times since then, she had left messages for him to contact her, but he hadn't ever called or come over to the house. When Mrs. Parsons again stayed in her room the following morning, I had Gerta call Mr. Chalmers at his office, to leave a message that I needed to speak with him as soon as possible.

Hans drove me over to the country club, and Dave gave me my golf lesson for the day. While we were doing the lesson he asked me if Mrs. Parsons was feeling all right. I told him that she was fine, that she had other things she needed to take care of. I don't think he believed me, but he didn't ask any other questions about her.

While I waited for Mr. Chalmers to call, I worried that I was the reason for her not wanting to come out of her room. I really liked her a lot, and hoped that it wasn't that conversation in the country club restaurant that caused her to get like she was. I went to her bedroom door and told her that I was sorry if I had upset her. I promised her that I'd try to be better. I don't know if she heard me or not, because she didn't answer me, or acknowledge my presence in any way.

At around two o'clock that afternoon, Mr. Chalmers showed up at the house. He looked upset in general, and mad at me in particular.

"Let's go Kenny, come outside, we need to talk. Now!" He turned around, and started walking down the stairs again. When I came out of my bedroom, I noticed that Mrs. Parsons bedroom door was cracked open, just a little bit. It had been closed for two days, and this was the first time I had seen it opened since she went in there. I walked down the stairs, watching Mr. Chalmers hurrying out the front door.

I increased my own pace, almost running after him, not wanting to make him any angrier at me. I came out the front door and saw him climbing into his car. I went over and got in the front passenger seat. As soon as my door was closed, he took off, driving all the way around the fountain, and then heading straight down the driveway to the regular road below. He drove back towards Ridgeline, then he pulled off the road and parked his car, turning off his motor.