A flicker of attraction in her eyes that wasn’t present until just now surprises me and has me standing mute as she closes the door and starts the car. Well, that was unexpected.
When I get home, I grab a beer from the fridge and head into my office. I drop Pop’s shoebox of contacts on my desk and open my laptop.
I check email first, curious as hell to reread the conversation with Keira, then shoot her a quick response.
Did you sign up?
Lincoln
I switch over to the site and log in so I can check my messages and swing submissions for the day. The notification for Keira’s reply pops up in the bottom of the screen, and I click on it.
Yes. I submitted a video and someone named Simon is reviewing it.
Keira
I search through Simon’s inbox, something I alone have the site privileges to do. When new members sign up, their inquiries are routed to one of three of my golf coaches. Simon has the least experience, but he’s sharp.
I can see he’s watched the video but hasn’t responded yet. That isn’t altogether surprising since it only came in an hour ago. We promise a response in twenty-four hours, so I expect he’ll get back to her tomorrow.
I watch her swing, noting that she’s worked on her weight shift. It isn’t quite there, but the initial turn is better. My fingers itch to do her review myself, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I really shouldn’t be holding on to the few clients I have now, but coaching helps me remember why I’m doing this in the first place.
My phone rings, and I go to silence it but pause at the name on the screen. Lacey. It keeps ringing while I decide whether or not to answer. It isn’t like her to call or text unless it’s absolutely necessary. We aren’t on bad terms exactly; we just have nothing to say to one another.
“Hello?” I try to keep my tone totally neutral as I answer. Maybe it’s a butt dial.
“Hey, Lincoln. It’s Lacey,” she says, voice tight.
I find it humorous she thinks I’ve deleted her contact. Even if I had, hers is one of only a few numbers I could recite by heart.
“Hey. Uh, everything okay?” I wince and try another approach. “How are you?”
She laughs, breaking some of the tension. “I’m fine. Sorry to call, but I wanted to remind you that we have to get everything out of the storage unit. We pre-paid through April, after that there are additional fees.”
“Right. The storage unit.” I think back, trying to remember what’s in it. It felt like my whole life at the time, yet I’ve managed just fine without any of it.
“I’m going tomorrow if you want to meet me there. There are a few boxes we should probably go through together anyway.”
“Tomorrow’s no good for me.” I rub at the back of my neck. “But feel free to go through them and take whatever you want. You know better than I do what’s what anyway.”
She’s quiet, and I check the phone to make sure we didn’t get disconnected.
“Lace?”
“I spent our entire relationship taking care of things when you were gone or too busy or maybe just didn’t want to be bothered, so don’t take it the wrong way when I say that it isn’t my job anymore to go through your shit.”
That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but years of guilt gnaw at me and keep me from lashing back. She isn’t completely wrong, a lot of things did fall on her, and I guess I got used to depending on her. It’s easy to slip back into those same roles, even now. “I can’t tomorrow. Is there another day? Next week I’m travelling, but maybe the week after?”
She sighs, and it’s a long, exasperated sound. “Yeah, sure. Give me a call when you’re ready.”
She disconnects first, leaving me with dead air and a thousand regrets. I drop my phone to the desk and stare at my computer screen.
The end of Keira’s video is paused so that she’s frozen in position. I hit play one more time, letting her swing bring a little bit of joy to this shitty night, and then force myself to get to work.
8
Keira
Wednesday’s practice is nearly identical to Tuesday’s. We break into groups to play eighteen holes and then spend some time with Coach working on individual drills. Well, except for me and a few freshmen he doesn’t get to before time is up. I’m positive that isn’t a coincidence that he somehow didn’t get to me two practices in a row.
After everyone else leaves, I stay at the driving range, working on my swing until it’s too dark to see the ball. I’m trying to incorporate the things Lincoln said, but I can’t feel if I’m getting it right, and it’s beyond frustrating.
I head back to the dorm, checking my text messages as I walk the stairs to the second floor. Abby is at Smith’s apartment, per the usual. Since she started dating him last semester, she rarely sleeps here.
I shower and pick through clothes on Abby’s bed. I’ve taken to using it as a storage area for my clean-ish clothes—the ones I’ve only worn once but am too lazy to hang back up in the closet. Erica and Cassidy texted that they were having people over, and since I’d rather go out than sit here alone, I get ready and call an Uber.
With eleven minutes to kill until my driver picks me up, I open my email. Simon from Reeves Sports has completed my swing review, and the write up has way more details than I expected. He’s even attached a slow-motion video of my swing like the one Lincoln had done, and talks through what he sees. I’d been expecting something much more generic. This is really cool.
I grab my seven iron from my bag and hold it as I listen, pulling back and trying to get the feel of my weight shift like Lincoln had said that first time. Honestly, what Simon says is much the same, so either it’s standard advice they give everyone or Lincoln was right. I don’t know why that continues to surprise me. Everything about him radiates a confidence that can’t be fake.
The thing is that, pro or not, it doesn’t automatically mean he’s qualified to give others advice. The best mentor I ever had was my high school coach, whose only qualification was that he loved golf. He worked hard and genuinely wanted his players to succeed. That, in turn, made us work hard.
The Uber driver calls to say he’s pulling up outside of Freddy, and I grab my purse and hustle downstairs. When we’re on our way, I send Lincoln an email.
Simon was more helpful than I expected. The site is really cool. I like the video feedback.
Keira
His response comes as the driver stops in front of Erica and Cass’s place. I thank him and walk to the front door slowly, reading.
I just saw his feedback. It’s pretty spot on with what I thought after watching it.
I can hear people inside the house, but I pause at the front door and email him back.
You watched it?
Keira
An unexpected thrill shoots through me at the thought of him taking the time to follow up on me. I wait out front for a minute, and when I don’t get a new response, I head inside.
A lot of the guys and girls from the golf teams are here hanging out in the living room watching television and drinking. Erica and Cassidy are sitting at a table in their small dining area with Chapman, Keith, and a sophomore named Han.