Part 11 (1/2)

”Yeah, yeah. Just need a different club.”

”Oh.” I pulled the bag around, and Mr. Hunt told us to hold on one second, rus.h.i.+ng towards Riley again and demanding his cellphone from the bag. Yeah, now I see where Riley got his everybody owes me att.i.tude.

Dad scratched his head after accepting the club. ”I feel like I've seen that man before, but I have no clue who the h.e.l.l he is.”

I laughed. ”That's Mr. Hunt. His first name is Jake. You volunteered to go on a field trip with him one time-a long time ago.”

”Oh. The boy knows you?” he inquired.

”We... used to date.”

Dad's face was full of disgust, nose scrunched, forehead creased. ”Him!?”

I glanced back. ”I know...” I turned forward again, looking down at the gra.s.s. ”I don't know what I was thinking.”

Dad chuckled. ”Don't sweat it.” Then he tipped my chin back up. ”We all fall for pimply, odd-statured people with arrogant att.i.tudes.”

I giggled. ”You're crazy. Go swing!”

He put on a smile, walking forward and getting into position. When he tipped the ball into the hole with the flat edge, he went to take it out, and I jotted his score down.

”I'm guessing he isn't your type then, huh?” Dad looked at me as we started towards the golf cart. I peered up at him, my hat s.h.i.+elding my face from the sun. There was gentleness in his eyes, his curiosity burning. I guess I didn't expect him to know anything about this-my relations.h.i.+p life, that is. I never talked about boys with my father. Like, ever.

”He's... way too simple-minded for me.” I glanced back, watching the Hunts struggle with which club to start with.

”Yeah, that I can see. You're a smart girl. You need someone on your level-or even a little higher.”

”Mm-hmm.”

”So what is it that peaks your interest?”

”Ya know...” I hesitated, unsure as I started the cart and drove to the next course. ”I don't really have a type, but for some reason I always end up with a football player at my side. I don't get it.”

”Hot bods,” he mused, grinning.

I choked on a laugh, twisting my lips and putting the cart in park. ”It feels weird talking to you about this.”

”You might as well get it out now. I'm sure I won't be able to remember it by tomorrow... maybe even tonight.”

I swallowed thickly, but Dad acted as if his comment wasn't meant to be damaging. For some reason, that comment brought me right back to reality. The fact that he had Alzheimer's. The fact that he most likely wouldn't remember my first name by the following morning, maybe even the same evening.

Hopping out of the cart, Dad pulled out one of the tees and stuck it in the gra.s.s. I stepped out and dropped the bag, watching as he stood there for a while with the golf ball in hand and a confused expression now on his face.

I realized what was happening before he could ask, ”Where'd I get this ball from?”

Picking up the bag of clubs, I walked towards him and took the ball away, pulling out the tee from the gra.s.s. ”We've been out her for about two hours now, Dad. I think we should head back home.”

”Uh... yeah. I guess.” He said nothing more as I collected the clubs and tossed them in the back of the cart. Dad climbed inside, sitting forward, eyes ahead. He was disappointed. I pretended his forgetfulness didn't bother me by mentioning how great his swing was-how he still had it. It made him feel somewhat better, but not entirely.

The car ride was quiet on the way back home. We arrived in fifteen minutes, catching Margie in the kitchen, whipping up some lunch. ”Well, look who's back!” she chimed, turning around with a pink ap.r.o.n tied at her waist. ”How was it?” she asked as I shut the garage door behind me.

”A disaster,” Dad grumbled.

”Was not,” I argued. ”It was great, Margie. He still has his swing.”

”That's wonderful!” Her chubby cheeks spread as she looked from me to my dad. ”Are you hungry, Mr. Knight?”

”No, no.” He waved a hand. ”I just want to rest.” He said this while he was already walking out of the kitchen. Margie quickly turned the stove off, following after him but giving me a wink before disappearing. She had it from here.

Blowing out a deep breath, I sat at the counter and ran my fingers across my face. It was getting worse for him. I didn't know how much more I could handle.

Slipping off the stool, I tiptoed upstairs and took a shower, ridding myself of the ninety-degree heat. Once I finished, I got dressed and heard my phone buzz in the pocket of my shorts.

I figured it was Izzy or even Mariah. I was wrong.

It was Theo.

Theo: Plans tonight?

Me: ...not sure yet.

Theo: Can we meet?

Me: What if I end up having plans?

Theo: I asked first.

Me: Actually, no. Someone already beat you to the punch.

I just haven't confirmed or anything yet.

Theo: A guy??

I frowned, but then I smiled, pleased to know he even cared.

Me: No. My roommate is coming to Bristle.

Wants me to hang with her.

Theo: A specific place?

Me: At stupid Brix.

Me: I'll be free after the club...

Theo: Well if u get bored u should come to Dane's.