Nathan couldn't help but smile when he caught the first glimpse of the Porsche as the garage door opened. It was a vintage convertible in mint green, a collector's dream. Nathan was a regular at auto shows, but just as an appreciator of classic cars. He'd never actually bought one before. This spring he'd begun going more regularly. He enjoyed the time away from the house on Saturday mornings mindlessly strolling between the cars. He'd never been a grease monkey, but he did appreciate the lines of a beautiful car and wasn't a stranger to the adrenaline rush achievable with a powerful engine. He enjoyed talking with the other men at the shows and had found an unspoken comradeship there. This was still a male-dominated zone, one that, if not completely understood, was at least tolerated by the women in their lives.
Eventually, the temptation to not only admire and touch one of the iron beauties on the show floor but to also own one became too great. He knew the cliché: he had recently had his thirty-sixth birthday, so maybe the purchase of a sports car was the official mile marker that middle age was upon him. The purchase was worth every cent. When he was in the driver's seat, he felt young again, in control of the future and the road ahead, and it seemed that life and its possibilities were limitless.
"A Porsche! Mint!" Tyler said. "Holy shit, do I get to inherit this?"
"Watch it. I'm not dead yet. So you like?" Nathan asked, watching Tyler and Chase excitedly taking in the car.
"Yeah, Dad. Sweet car," Tyler commented, jumping in the driver's seat. "I never thought you'd actually break down and buy one. I thought your Saturday morning excursions were just an excuse not to have to sit through Birdy's ballet classes."
"So who's up for eighteen holes?" Nathan asked, grabbing his golf clubs from a corner of the garage and tossing them in the trunk.
"Let's do it. Chase and I should stop by the pro shop to check in with Marty anyway. He'll probably want us to start working at the course tomorrow."
"You play golf, Chase?" Nathan asked, realizing that he didn't know a lot about Tyler's friend.
"Does Putt-Putt count?" Chase asked with a shrug.
"Prepare to get schooled," Tyler informed him with a shot to the ribs. "When's tee time?"
"About an hour," Nathan answered. "Why don't I show you guys the guest cottage? I finally got the shower installed."
"Nice work, Builder Bob," Tyler kidded. "Good timing on that too, not that I didn't love having to share a bathroom with Birdy since she rocketed onto the planet."
"Come on, smartass." Nathan laughed at his son's ribbing as he led the boys to the guest cottage. He and Tyler had always shared a sarcastic sense of humor, and Nathan prided himself on the fact that he had maintained the respected boundaries of a parent relationship while simultaneously enjoying a genuine friendship with his son. Of course, their relationship had grown from the unique beginning of Nathan stepping into fatherhood at the age of sixteen. He'd been a boy raising a boy in many ways. It certainly hadn't always been easy, and finishing high school with a baby posed a lot of challenges, but he and Stacey had made it work. When he looked at his son's face now, he couldn't imagine it happening any other way.
Tyler opened the door to the guest cottage and threw his bags on the floor. "Work in progress, huh?" he noted. Nathan watched him take in the unfinished ceiling and walls. Tyler was right, but nevertheless, it did have a certain charm to it. Two twin beds with matching nightstands and lamps split the room. A couple of surfboards, a pair of water skis, and a yellow go-cart rested against the far wall. An old library apothecary cabinet stood out on the opposite wall. Tyler walked over to it and paused to look up at Nathan before opening one of its drawers. "Still have all my football trading cards?"
Nathan nodded, smiling. "Yes, and still organized. Top row, Steelers, players from the six Super Bowl Championships, ascending years, left to right. Second to fourth rows, the players from the thirteen conference championship games, missing only—"
"—missing only tackle 'Mean' Joe Greene. I know, I know...," Tyler finished. Nathan recognized a trace of boyhood disappointment shadowing Tyler's face. He knew his son considered it a personal failure not to have completed his collection. Tyler's expression brightened as he noticed the shower Nathan had installed in the corner of the room. "Come on, Dad, that's hilarious. The bathroom isn't going to have walls?"
"It's open concept," Nathan defended himself.
"It's exhibitionist or lazy! My guess is you decided you'd rather spend your summer on the golf course than building practical things like walls for the guest cottage," Tyler said, walking over to the shower and trying a tap. "Well, at least it works."
"It's like loft living in the city. Walls are passé."
"Okay, Mr. Architect, maybe that line flies with your clients, but I know better. You were lazy."
Nathan shook his head. "I'll let you guys get changed. Remember, collared shirts for the club." Nathan closed the door behind him but paused at the sound of Chase's voice.
"I thought you said your dad was uptight."
"I don't know what's gotten into him. Must be a midlife crisis or something," Tyler answered.
So it is that obvious. Nathan shook his head.
"He still looks pretty young to me."
Well, thank you, Chase.
"I'm the product of teen pregnancy, remember? My parents had me when they were in high school." There was a pause and then an animated yell from Tyler. "Put some clothes on, man! Just because we're in the woods doesn't mean you have to go au naturel!"
The only reply was a snap.
"Owww! Lay off with the towel!" Chase yelled back. "Gross! Get your disgusting pit stains away from me!"
Nathan smiled to himself and walked toward the house. Boys will be boys....
A small crowd was enjoying their postgame drinks on the patio of the Prospect Lake Clubhouse, overlooking the first tee. Nathan selected a driver and took a few practice swings before toeing up to the ball. "Relax, breathe, and don't kill it," he reminded himself on his backswing. Following through, he anticipated the shot and looked up the fairway a millisecond before connecting. The ball sailed a hundred and fifty yards straight ahead and then abruptly sliced to the left, landing on the opposing fairway.
"You looked up," Tyler informed him, already planting his tee into the soil.
"Yeah, I know." Nathan stood back and observed as his son took a few practice swings and coached Chase on his skills. One thing was certain: Tyler wasn't lacking in the confidence department.
"Gotta keep your eye on the ball, Chase. Visualize where you want the ball to go. Just like sex. Get it in the hole." Tyler paused for a rare second of silence before connecting with the ball and sending it flying. "Just like that. All right, Chase, you're up."
Chase couldn't have looked any less thrilled to be there. It made sense: not only was it his first time golfing, but he had to tee off with a crowd watching from the patio. Nothing like trial by fire. Nathan watched as he picked through the clubs in his rental bag and finally selected a driver, no doubt trying to match it to what he'd seen Tyler and himself use. As Chase set his ball on the tee, Tyler nattered in his ear.
"Okay, this part is like foreplay. You have to work up to actually getting it in the cup. If you can get a hole in one, all the better. But most guys have to do it in a few stages. What you wanna do is cut down on those stages and just pop it in there as soon as you can, but be careful not to overshoot."
"I thought golf was a quiet game." Chase shot him a look over his shoulder before giving a hard practice swing.
"You gotta relax. You'll overshoot. Nice and easy now," Tyler coached.
"Tyler, knock it off. Just let the guy play," Nathan cut in, using his fatherly voice.
Chase looked up and gave Nathan a little smile—an acknowledgment and a thank-you.
Nathan couldn't help but smile back before giving him a nod to go at his own pace.
Chase pulled the club back like a baseball bat and all but attacked the ground with his swing. He did, however, make contact, and the ball flew about thirty feet across the lawn and landed directly in a sand trap.
"Good. That's...." Nathan struggled for a moment. "Well, you connected, that's... good."
"Now I'd call that shooting blanks. You gotta visualize the cup, man. Visualize the cup," Tyler chimed in as they picked up their golf bags and headed down the first fairway. "Just think of me like your own motivational speaker. You should have me coach you in sex. If I did, you'd probably get some. It'd improve your golf game too."
"Tyler!" The threesome turned to see a raven-haired vixen decked out in a white sun visor, golf skirt, and polo waving from the clubhouse patio.
"As I was saying, actions speak louder than words, and that is trouble in a short skirt. I'll catch up with you guys," Tyler said as he did an about-face and jogged back up to the clubhouse.
Nathan read the question on Chase's face and tried to fill in the blanks. "That's Bre, Tyler's on-again, off-again summer girlfriend. He didn't mention her?"
"No... but he might have. I start to get confused just with the girls at college. I think he has a different girlfriend for every class he takes," Chase said, still watching as Tyler planted a big kiss on Bre, as if last summer were only yesterday.
"I can't imagine what having Tyler as your roommate would be like." Nathan laughed.
Chase picked up his golf bag again and started to walk toward the sand trap and his ball. "He's not a chip off the old block?"
"Well, not quite in that way. Other ways, yeah. I mean, we have a lot in common. I never had the opportunity to be young and restless in college. I was already trying to be a grown-up—" Nathan stopped himself. He hadn't even thought about that time for so long. It was something that had developed into an unspoken understanding in the house: their lives had started when he had been offered the job at the architecture firm, when they began to make enough money to live comfortably, when he and Stacey finally began to appear old enough to be parents. Anything before that wasn't talked about. The past was the past; it didn't really have relevance today.
Nathan watched as Chase stepped into the sand trap and again began to rummage through his bag. He looked like a lost puppy. "Find the one labelled with an SW—it's a sand wedge. Easy to remember, right?"
Chase looked up and smiled gratefully. The kid had a grin that was contagious, Nathan considered as he felt one creeping across his own face. He set down his own golf bag on the sand trap's bank and stepped in to give some pointers. "Let's see your swing. Remember, don't lift your head too soon." As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Nathan grimaced. "Jeez, I'm sorry. Like father, like son, huh?"
Chase smirked at him and then gave a home-run-worthy baseball swing. "I'll take pointers."
"Okay, you've got passion behind it, that's good. Let's just focus some of that energy." Nathan knelt down, and after taking the club from Chase, laid it down perpendicular to his toes. "Use your club to make sure you're pointed in the right direction. Feet shoulder-width apart."
Nathan stood and walked around behind Chase, pushing the backs of his knees, buckling them momentarily. "Slight bend in the knees. Not quite that much. Look where you want the ball to go. Put your head down and lift with the club. Now I'm gonna cross the tree line to my goddamn ball."
Nathan climbed out of the sand trap, picked up his bag, and started hiking up the fairway, watching for his ball, but his mind was on anything but golf. He'd been catapulted back to his teenage years, as confusing and brief as they were. When you had to start changing diapers by your seventeenth birthday, it kind of stunted the exploration of the joys of sex.
He didn't resent Stacey for the pregnancy. They had been young, and they'd both wanted to experiment. He'd had no idea how those few early explorations would alter his destiny so drastically. He considered what it must be like for Tyler at college, living a life that in some ways might have been similar to his own had that not happened: carefree, sexually liberated, spontaneous. He instinctively switched back into parent mode, hoping that Tyler was always safe and used protection. He'd had the discussion with Tyler often enough he was sure his son had taken it to heart. It was a difficult discussion to have with his own "miracle" baby, to simultaneously express gratitude for having Tyler in his life and caution him against the difficulties of becoming a parent too young.
Everyone was different, though. Chase was the same age as Tyler and didn't seem to be as sex obsessed, or maybe he was and Nathan hadn't witnessed it yet. Most college guys were. A healthy obsession with sex.... He laughed at the idea. He'd spent so long trying to repress sexual thoughts and feelings and just seem normal. And he'd succeeded. He and Stacey had one boy and one girl, and in every way theirs appeared to be a perfectly constructed family.
Smack!
Nathan jumped at the sound more than from the impact of a golf ball hitting his bag. He turned to see Tyler and Chase running down the fairway from the sand trap.
"Fore!" Chase yelled.
"Yeah, it's a little late for that," Nathan called back. "What are you doing? Trying to kill me?"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to," Chase stammered, red-faced from the run and embarrassment as he reached Nathan.
Nathan couldn't help but smile. "It's okay. No harm done. You just learned two things about golf. Number one, my fault. Never walk ahead of another player, even if you think they can't hit the ball more than thirty feet. And number two, keep your eye on the ball. You're likely to hit toward whatever you're looking at."
Chase lowered his eyes, suddenly seeming to have a keen interest in the grass as Tyler caught up. "You know, this isn't dodgeball, Chase. We're not trying to hit other players. Golf is a game of patience. I'm here for you. I'm not here for me."
"Shut up," Nathan and Chase said in unison and then looked at each other and laughed.
"Jinx. You know what that means? You owe me a beer after the game," Chase teased Nathan.
"I owe you a beer? You're the one who nearly killed me!"
"Gentlemen," Tyler said as he stepped between them, "I have a feeling there could be quite a tally by the time this game is over. May I remind you we haven't even reached the first green? Which I'm probably on, with my first shot," Tyler bragged, walking ahead. "I'm voting the loser buys today. So, Chase, we can just ask Marty to take that off your future paychecks, and Dad, as you know, I do take direct deposit into my bank account."