The Boy Who Wore Boat Shoes

07⎜The Green

07⎜The Green

The five other individuals who I was accompanied by were were all staring intently at me, except for Henry and Ari. Henry looked as though he was being paid about ten dollars an hour, forty dollars per bag, so couldn't care less about the world around him. Ari, on the other hand, wasn't gazing directly at me like everyone else—minus Henry—but more at the green expanse before us. All that could be seen was green, green, more green, and the occasional flag or sandpit. The contrast of the green with the bright blue of the sky was a nice one, and definitely served as a nice sight for the dull sport we were currently subjected to playing. The only thing wrong at the immediate moment was the temperature of the air.

           When we had first arrived at the golf club (and not a literal "club" used in golfing, but an association that possessed a location where people went to golf and socialize), it had been moderate out. It was hot, but I wasn't sweating. Currently, with the mix of the increased heat and the slight physical activity, I was at the point where I felt as though if I hadn't lathered on multiple layers of deodorant in the morning, perspiration would be leaking through everywhere on my shirt. A gross mental image even for me, but it was true.

           "Just hit the ball already!" Scott whined from a few feet behind, displaying his repeated desire to speed up the process in any way possible. He wasn't exactly a golf "enthusiast," but apparently wanted to "hang out with Ari, Kay, and Eric" ("not" Houston, and he had made that point clear), so made an exception.

           As requested, I finally swung my arms, allowing them to collapse in rigid lines down, the club moving with them until it hit the small white ball with more craters than the moon, and followed through over my shoulder. My feet had found themselves in the proper stance of one firmly planted with the other bent at the knee and only the ball of my foot touching the ground. I didn't look as good as Tiger Woods, but after viewing the orb soar overhead at a fairly far height, I had a hunch that I wasn't terrible. Also, the applause by one Kay Rodgers that followed my swing affirmed the theory that I hadn't completely sucked.

           "Woo!" the southern girl cheered, her arm wrapped around that of her counterpart. "That was just wonderful, Eric!"

           "It wasn't that good," Scott mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

           "Scott, please shut your mouth, and if you have negative thoughts, keep them to yourself," Kay stated firmly as a rule that was meant for him in particular, but then added and amended it to, "oh, and that goes for you too, Ari."

           "Are you implying that I'm 'negative'?" her best friend questioned, dark coiled hair slightly lifting with the wind.

           "She sure ain't implyin' that you're positive," Houston snorted, having more of a backstory to Ari's personality than I.

           "Regardless," Kay began, putting a single finger up to her boyfriend's lips as a way to express the message that was "shut up" in the politest way possible, "Eric, you were just wonderful!"

           "Uh, thanks," I said with a nod in her direction. She grinned back, something about her smile seeming even brighter than the midday sun that now shone.

           "Can we please just move on now?" Scott groaned in annoyance, hitching his golf bag over his shoulder himself, and striding over to the golf cart. He dumped the cylindrical bag into the back of the vehicle, and then hopped into the driver's seat with a gleeful expression as he pressed on the gas, causing the cart to move forward about a foot. "C'mon, or I'm leaving you all here!"