“So I start sneaking out to practice during the week. I woke up early and did my house chores, getting as much done as I could, then I would head out to Memorial Park and practice golf for about four hours, sometimes a little longer. It took a month for my short game to come back. Slowly, the touch did return, and my contact was cleaner than before I had stopped playing. Even my putting improved. I think my tighter swing took pressure off my putting, making me feel like I didn’t have to sink everything, so I was releasing the putter head with ease and hitting my lines, therefore draining more putts. By the first week in September, I was ready for the Houston City Amateur, but I still had to figure out how to get away for that tournament weekend.
“That was when I decided to go for it. I called Lexi’s favorite resort in Galveston and asked for a deal on the weekend of the tournament. Because they were loyal customers, the resort said that Lexi and the girls could get a penthouse suite for a regular rate, especially since they were ordering a nanny. I said it sounded great, and I booked it. That night, when Lexi came home, I ambushed her.
“Hey, Lexi. I did something today. I hope it was all right.”
“What the fuck did you do?” Lexi asked, tired and obviously loaded.
“The Ambassador Resort and Spa in Galveston called and said they had a special rate for you and the girls. You could get a penthouse suite at a regular rate, and your favorite nanny can take the girls all weekend. It’s for late September, the 27th through the 30th.”
“The Ambassador called you?” Lexi asked. “Why didn’t they call me?”
“Good question,” I said, cornered. “I have no idea. Maybe the Ambassador couldn’t reach you on your phone this morning. Or—. Or, maybe you told them my phone number. Am I your emergency phone number in their registry? Maybe they called the emergency number by accident. Anyway, it was a one day offer, so I said yes.”
“You accepted! Why didn’t you call me first?”
“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you. Plus, it was too good a deal.”
“Fuck me,” Lexi scoffed. “When is this? The end of September?”
“27th through the 30th.”
“I guess it’s ok,” Lexi said, heading upstairs. “Call me next time. Don’t be such a child.”
“I said I was sorry again, then silently cheered as she disappeared on the staircase.”
“Travis,” Ava asked, “what if you had gotten caught? What if Lexi found out that you made the reservation yourself? What would she have done?”
“I didn’t get caught. And I know, looking back, I can’t believe I made the reservation. I put my life and my children’s lives at risk of being broken apart. I know. But I needed to play in that golf tournament. I can’t explain it. The past month had been the greatest escape of my life, and I just wanted to keep it going. It was irrational and juvenile, thinking that I could get away with this and nothing would happen. But I had to try, and for some reason, I thought that I could pull it off. I convinced myself that Lexi would never know.”
“It just seems so risky, Travis, especially knowing the girls would be left with Lexi if you got caught. You even said the girls were scared of her and she had abused them in the past.”
“I know, I know,” Travis said, motioning Mac for another round. “It was selfish and stupid. But I just had to try and play. I can’t even tell you why. Just something inside. I had to play.”
Chapter 12
The City Amateur
“So a couple of weeks later, Lexi and the girls left for Galveston on that Thursday afternoon. The next morning, I drove to Memorial Park for the Houston City Amateur, prepared and ready to show it. I had a great warm-up and couldn’t wait to start.
“The first round was pretty standard. I played with a guy who was woefully nervous and hitting it all over the place on the first few holes, and his score showed it, but I got him to calm down, and he ended up shooting 83. I shot even par on the front, then snuck three birdies on the back. I drove it well, but my irons could’ve been sharper. My mind kinda’ wandered during the round, not used to the grind. Some guy named Raleigh Durham shot six under and had a three-stroke lead over me.
“The next day, the second round, it was wet and windy. A big test. I had to get up and down from off the green seven times during the round, made bogey twice and birdied twice, all pars on the rest. I shot a respectable even par on that miserable day. I couldn’t help my partner in this weather. He completely lost it mentally and shot 92. It was that tough a day for almost everybody.
“But that Raleigh guy, the leader, shot two under. He had a five-stroke lead over me. The guy in third was seven strokes behind me, so it was a two-man tournament now.
“Sunday was the last day, thirty-six holes, two rounds in one day, five strokes back. I don’t know why, but they always play thirty-six holes on that last day. The good news was that gave me a lot of time to make up five strokes.
“That night, while I was eating at home alone, a feeling came over me. It was like an adrenaline-laced calm or something, like my senses were heightened for no reason. I was so ready to play all night. I kept thinking about that first tee shot. I knew I was going to win.”
“You knew?” Ava asked.
“Cocky-bastard,” Mac interrupted, dropping off some fresh drinks. Instead of leaving, he pulled up a chair to listen in.
“Yeah, I knew,” Travis said, loving his fresh Jack and Sprite Zero. “The next morning, the rain had stopped, the temperature was warm, and the course had dried out, so the conditions were perfect. I finally got to meet Raleigh because we were playing partners now. Nice guy, tall, with a long fluid swing. Raleigh was pretty cool at first.
“We both started out hot. I shot four-under on the front nine, and Raleigh shot three-under. We were having a good time, talking and joking with each other. But on the back nine, Raleigh’s putter went a little cold and mine stayed hot. I had four more birds on the back, and he shot two over.”
“You shot a 64,” Ava laughed, “and Raleigh shot 71. You had a two-stroke lead now with 18 holes to go. Was Raleigh surprised?”
“Raleigh was pissed. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to talk anymore, which was fine with me.
“So we take a thirty-minute break before the last round, then we head to the first tee, and I get a great surprise. About fifty of my old buddies showed up to watch my final eighteen holes. Glenn probably called them. They gave me this great ovation as I walked to the first tee. I looked over at Raleigh, and he was shaken up by it all, completely out of it mentally. The tournament was over, and we hadn’t even teed off on the first hole yet.
“I had a great front nine, showing off for all my buddies and laughing with them, but Raleigh couldn’t hold it together. The poor guy tried to dig deep, but nothing was there. I basically played the same front as the morning round. Raleigh shot a 41, and I shot a 32 again.
“You had an eleven stroke lead at the turn,” Ava said, shaking her head.
“On the back nine, Raleigh and I became friends again. He realized that I was a good guy, and I was very respectful to him, clapping for almost every one of his shots. Even my buddies started cheering for him a little. He shot two under on the back, finishing strong. I can’t tell you how cool he was when he shook my hand after the round. Raleigh ended up being a great guy.”
“What did you shoot on the back nine?” Ava asked.
“I get up on the tenth tee,” Travis said, “and guess who I see. Mac.”
“That’s right,” Mac said, grinning. “On Saturday, a guy at work told me that Travis was in the paper, that he was playing in the Houston City Amateur. Sunday morning, I read on the sports page that Travis was in second place, so for the first time ever, I called in sick, skipped work and went to watch my old buddy play golf. I tried to hide in the background, but Travis finally caught sight of me on the tenth tee. Travis ran over, gave me this big
hug, and we started catching up for a few minutes, but he had to go finish the round. So I asked him to show me what he’s got on the back nine. That son-of-a-bitch shot six-under!”
“You shot a 62 in the final round of the Houston City Amateur?” Ava asked. “You never told me about shooting 62 in the final round. You went 64-62 on Sunday. You won by—. So you won by 15 strokes.”
“I played well,” Travis said, with a wry smile. “So I got the trophy and raced home. My girls arrived a couple of hours before me, and Lexi was pissed that I wasn’t home. But I had planned it out already. I told her that I tried to buy some azalea bushes, to fix some of the front beds, but couldn’t find them. Being devious, I had some azalea bushes already in the garage, pre-bought for her to see. I told her that I suddenly realized that I didn’t have enough azaleas, so I went to some other nurseries that evening, to find a few more, but none of the nurseries had the white azalea bushes that she liked.”
“Whatever,” Lexi responded, already drunk and headed upstairs. “Our bags are in the car. And take a shower. You smell awful. Worse than normal.”
Chapter 13
The Newspaper
“The next morning, everything blew up. I was planting the azalea bushes in the front beds, when, out of nowhere, Lexi raced down the driveway in her Mercedes toward the garage. She never came home early on a weekday. I went to see what was up and there she was, opening my car trunk and throwing my golf clubs on the ground.
“You stupid bastard!” Lexi yelled, walking toward me now. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Lexi, all I did was play in a little golf tournament while y’all were gone. It was nothing.”
“You lied to me!” Lexi screamed, then slapped my face. Hard. “You made me look like a fool. You made the reservations for Galveston, didn’t you? You’ve been playing golf all along. I trusted you. But all you’ve done is ruin your own life, not mine.”
“Then Lexi stormed toward her Mercedes, reached in the car and grabbed a newspaper, throwing it at my feet.
“You are finished,” she said, walking in the back door.
“I picked up the paper and on the front of the sports section was a big picture of me, under the headline, ‘The Best That Never Was.’”
“It was my fault,” Mac interrupted. “Well, me and some other guys. After Travis left with his trophy, a reporter followed me to my car. He saw Travis talking to me and guessed we were friends. I started telling the reporter all about Travis, how he was this great prodigy who gave it all up for his wife and kids. I guess it made me feel like a big shot or something, talking to some reporter, so I went on forever. I knew better. But I wanted to brag about my buddy. The reporter also interviewed the pro at Memorial Park. What’s his name?”
“Glenn,” Ava and Travis said at the same time.
“Right,” Mac said. “Glenn bragged about Travis, too. The reporter interviewed like twenty other muni-guys, and they all had great stories about Travis’s exploits. The article made Travis sound like a golf hero, the guy who gave up his golf future for his wife and kids, to make sure his family was happy and all their dreams came true. It was a great article.”
“But Lexi didn’t like it,” Travis said. “She had portrayed herself as the woman who didn’t need a man or any help in her life. Or, to some, she portrayed herself as a single woman who was not married. So an article calling her married with kids, or needing help from a man, was a complete insult to her stated reality to others. In other words, she felt the article was calling her a liar. And it was.”
“I’ve got people at work running up to me all morning,” Lexi said, as she paced around the living room, drinking scotch, “asking if you were my husband and telling me how lucky I was, how they had no idea that I had such a devoted husband. Telling me, me, how lucky I was! One little bastard asked if I could get you to sign his newspaper. And I hadn’t even read the article yet and had no fucking idea what the hell was going on because you fucking lied to me. I had to leave my office, on a Monday at 10:00 am, because of you and your lies, you fucking bastard!”
“Lexi reached up to slap my face, but I caught her wrist before her hand hit me. I wouldn’t let her slap again.”
“Oh, that’s assault, you bastard,” Lexi said, grinning. “You can never lay a hand on a woman. Now you’ve done it. I want you out of here. Do you understand me? You’re finished. I want you to go upstairs, pack up your shit and get the hell out of here. I want a divorce, and I’m getting the girls. If you fight me in any way, I will file for a restraining order against you, and your abuse, and you will never see the girls again. And don’t you think that I won’t do it! I’ve done it before, and I will do it again. I am leaving for one hour, and you better be gone by the time I get back. If you are still here, I will call the police, and I will make sure that you spend at least one night in jail, you lying bastard. You did it this time. We are over!”
“Lexi left, so I grabbed a bunch of garbage bags, packed up my clothes and left. I parked at the end of the street, to see if she came home in an hour, and she did, followed by a locksmith. Lexi had all the locks changed instantly.
“I know I should’ve been scared or whatever, about my situation, but all I could think about was Charlotte and Shelby, and how I wouldn’t be there to pick them up from school. Maybe ever again.”
Chapter 14
Helpless
“I drove around for a couple of hours, trying to figure out what was the best thing for me to do now, but I came up with nothing. Finally, I drove over to Marcos, the restaurant I used to work at, and waited for Mac to show up for the night shift. Mac parked, saw me walking toward him, looking like a lost dog, and he knew what had happened immediately.”
“I had read the paper that morning,” Mac interjected, “and couldn’t believe how big an article it was. I thought it was going to be a little blurb on the back page or something. When I saw Travis walking up, head down and shattered, I knew that he hadn’t told Lexi about playing in the tournament and we had ruined everything for him.”
“It was all me, Mac, I screwed up,” Travis said, sternly, as Mac left to go back to work on the bar area. “Mac gave me the keys to his apartment, and I started living there with him.”
“What about the girls?” Ava asked. “What did Lexi do with them?”
“Lexi was a smart woman. She called the nanny from Galveston, paid her to come to Houston and be a live-in nanny. Her name was Jenny, and she left Galveston that night. Lexi had her move into my room, like I was just a memory. $1,500 a week, plus room and board. Not a bad gig. Lexi’s world barely changed, so she was happy.
“Mac got home after his shift, and we brainstormed. Having saved a little over the years, Mac gave me five-grand, all the money that he had in the world, for a lawyer. Knowing a lawyer friend from golf, I called him, and he referred me to some high-powered guy who met with me the next day. It cost three-grand for the initial visit. The lawyer said he’d do a background check on Lexi and her finances, to see what position I was in for a divorce settlement, and more importantly, how I could get custody of my girls.
“About three days later, the lawyer called back to explain that I was screwed. His private investigator discovered that Lexi had been married twice before and claimed spousal abuse in both cases. She was an expert at it. They talked to one of her ex-husbands, and he said just run away, as far as possible.”
“Why?” Ava asked.
“The ex-husband claimed that he tried to limit her half of the divorce settlement, because of her mental abuse, and because she had her successful job, making almost as much as him. Out of the blue, Lexi invited him over to the house, just to talk. He drove over, knocked on her door, and she ran out, screaming, her face all bloody and her nightgown torn apart. Lexi flagged down a car in the middle of the road and told the driver that her ex-husband had beaten her up and tried to rape her. The guy went to jail for six
months.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. So the lawyer said because of the type of woman that I married, and my limited finances to fight her in court, it was best if I just settled with her and didn’t fight for custody. So there I was, three-grand poorer and knowing what I already had known. I was screwed.
“Then, a week later, out of nowhere, Mac came home from work and said Glenn needed to talk to me, that he had stopped by Marcos and said it was important. So I head over to Memorial Park the next day.”
“I got you into the Houston Open!” Glenn said, so excited. “You are going to play in a PGA tournament. I talked to the Houston Golf Association, and they all agreed. They knew your story from the paper and thought it would be great publicity. You’re getting a special exemption.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes! The Houston Open is moving to a new course this year, Deer Run Golf Club, so they’re looking for cool stories for advertising. What could be better than a gifted local muni-guy living out his dream? ‘Come out and watch, Houston. Local Boy does good. Bring the whole family.’”
“What do I have to do?”
“Practice. You got six months to prepare. I got you free privileges at Deer Run, on the range and the course. I can get you a sponsor. Me! No money, but I’ll get you free clothes, balls, and gloves. It’ll all have the Memorial Park Golf Course logo on them. You’ll be a muni-golfing god! But there is one catch. Just one. To get the free stuff, you have to turn pro.”
“No problem, I don’t care. Glenn, is this for real?”
“Travis, this is a new course. No one on tour has ever seen it. You get to practice on it for six months. Travis, you can win this.”
Chapter 15
Fear
Disappearing like the Wind Page 7
