Life Lines

2: Apple Of The Eye

 “You wouldn’t be Theodore Abernathy’s daughter would you? The three time Master’s winner?”

 “The one and only.” Mrs. Torchia smiled. “She has quite a few championship titles under her belt as well.”

 He held out his hand, beaming. I took it and his shake was firm and warm.

 “I knew it. It is nice to meet you. You look a lot like him.”

 I got that a lot. My father and I were two peas in a pod in the looks department, although I had my mother’s blue eyes.

 “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “But I really have to…”

 “Nonsense,” Mrs. Torchia said. “Your little posse of girls can wait for a minute. Why don’t you two talk while I get his paperwork settled?”

 She patted me on the arm which clearly meant ‘Talk to him or there will be trouble’. It occurred to me at that moment that she’d planned this. I hated being used because of my father. I hated being used because of me. The woman was nothing but subtle. She disappeared into her office which left me standing with the new guy in awkward silence.

 “So…” I said trying to take a stab at small talk. “What brings you to Georgia?”

 “My parents decided to try out the rumor of southern hospitality.”

 “And? Has everyone been treating you ok?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded, “everyone is…very nice. It’s a little strange to get used to all the waving.”

 I couldn’t help but smile at that one. “Yeah. I heard that’s hard at first. You’ll get used to it. Just like the heat and the freak rainstorms. Where are you from originally?”

 “Maine, actually.”

“Wow.” My eyebrows shot up. “That’s quite a move.”

“Tell me about it. I never want to be stuck in a car with my parents that long again.”

“Hey, Nat?” Emilie walked to our end of the desk. “I can’t get a hold of Ted. Are you guys still having dinner here at eight?”

I nodded. “Just like last year.”

Her smile was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, honey. I wouldn’t have asked but you know I have to confirm.”

“It’s ok.”

She nodded and went back to her computer, click-clacking as her fingers moved across the keys to confirm my registration.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

I looked at him, confusion making me frown. “For what?”

“Nine years, right? Since your mom passed away.”

My mother’s passing had hit the golfing community hard, making national news and front page cover stories. It wasn’t often that someone dies of cancer anymore. Once it used to be a global epidemic but now that they found a vaccination, it was treated much like TB and the measles. But my mother’s was treatment resistant, coming back several times over the eight short years I had with her.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Nine years.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. You’re not the first person to mention it today and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

It was the truth. Every year, the local sports section would print a little blurb about her death and the whole thing was brought up all over again. I cleared my throat, determined to change the subject.