We get to my neighborhood and as we drive past the old, run-down houses, I say, "Not really like where you grew up, huh?"
"No, but there's nothing wrong with it. It kinda reminds me of the neighborhood where Birdie lives."
"Really? I guess I just assumed her family had money."
"They're not poor but they're definitely not rich. Her parents keep their house nice but the people around them don't. I think the house next to hers is vacant. The lawn is all weeds and one of the windows is broken."
"This is mine," I say, pointing to Albert's house. It's been painted and someone put flower pots on the front porch. With the fresh paint the house looks a lot better than it used to.
"It looks really nice," Taylor says. "I thought you said your parents didn't take care of their house."
"That isn't their house." I pull into my parents' driveway. "This is theirs. The other one is Albert's but I consider that my home more than this one. And now I own it so it actually is my house."
She looks at my parents' house which needs to be painted and has junk all over the porch. My parents use the porch for storage since they don't have room in the house.
"It's not that bad," Taylor says.
It's bad. She's just being nice.
"They may not even be home," I say as we walk up to the house. It's Saturday so they're not at work but sometimes they spend Saturdays at the casino.
I knock on the door.
My mom answers. She looks different. Her hair is back to her natural brown instead of being dyed blond and she's lost some weight. She looks better than I've seen her look in a long time.
"Luke." She sounds shocked. She probably thought I'd never show up here again.
"Hey, Mom. This is my girlfriend, Taylor."
Girlfriend. I've never introduced her like that. I like how it sounds.
"Hi." My mom glances at Taylor then looks back at me. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you guys. And talk to Dad."
She smiles and her eyes get teary. "Luke."
"Mom, are you okay?" I ask, because she hardly ever cries.
Instead of answering, she hugs me.
I hug her back. This is strange. I don't come from a family of huggers.
"I've missed you," she says, standing back and wiping her eyes. "I didn't think you'd ever come back."
"I didn't think you wanted me to. After Dad showed up and told me...well, you know what's going on."
"And I don't like it," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your dad's being a shithead."
I glance at Taylor. I should've warned her my parents swear a lot. Her parents almost never do.
"So you're not part of this?" I ask, surprised. My mom was always nicer to me than my dad but she still went along with the stuff he did, like making me work all the time and taking my money.
"You're an adult now," she says. "What you make is what you get. You do the work, you get the money. We're not supporting you anymore. It doesn't make sense for us to take your money."
"Then why is Dad doing this?"
She shrugs. "Hell if I know. Because he's jealous? Angry? Or just plain stupid. He knows you won't give him money so I don't know why he's wasting his time going after you like this."
"He's trying to blackmail me. He wants to find something to use against me that might hurt my golf career. Didn't he tell you that?"
"He rambled on about it but I wasn't really listening. Until he mentioned getting a lawyer. I told him he was fucking crazy. We can't afford some damn lawyer."
"Janet, who is it?" my dad yells from the other room. "You better not be giving our money away to one of them damn salesmen!"
"It's not a salesman!" she yells back.
"Don't be giving our money to those damn neighbor kids either!"
She rolls her eyes. "You sure you want to talk to him? He's in one of his moods."
"He's always in a bad mood. I just need to get this over with." I go past her into the kitchen, then look back at Taylor. "You okay waiting here?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"You want something to drink?" my mom says to Taylor.
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
I'm not sure if leaving Taylor with my mom is a good idea but I need to talk to my dad alone.
"Hey, Dad," I say, walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch. He's in his chair, looking at me like I'm crazy for showing up like this.
"What the hell you doing here?"
"I came for a visit. Mom seems good."
"She's on some new diet." He picks up a can of beer from the table beside him and takes a drink. "She quit smoking. Did she tell you that?"
"No. She didn't mention it."
"It saved us a shitload. You know what they charge for cigarettes these days?"
"So how's work?"
He sets his beer can down. "Why do you care? You don't give a shit about my work."
This isn't going to go anywhere. I'm trying Pat's advice, which I still think is from Albert, but I doubt doing this will get me anywhere with my dad.
"Actually, I do care. So how's it going?"
"Jensen's been bitching about labor costs again. Clyde thinks some of us will get cut."
"You think you will?"
"Who the fuck knows? If I had to guess, I'd say I'm at the top of the list. I'm one of the oldest guys there. I can't work as hard and as fast as I used to. If they want to fire someone I'm an easy target."
"Sorry, Dad. I didn't know all that was going on."
"Why would you? You don't talk to me."
"Because I didn't think you wanted me to. When we used to talk, all you'd do is yell at me and tell me what I'm doing wrong."
"Yeah, well, you're older now." He looks away. He hates talking about stuff like this. Talking in general makes him uncomfortable.
"So you want me to talk to you?"
"It's your life. Do whatever the fuck you want."
"But what I'm doing isn't what you want."
"You're not making sense." He waves me away. "Why don't you go talk to your mother?"
"That's why you're doing this. That's why you're coming after me like this. It's because you don't want me golfing for a living. You think it's stupid that people get paid to play a game, even though you don't care that football players get paid. Or baseball players."
"Those are real sports. And the guys who play them aren't spoiled rich kids. They had to work for what they have."
"And I haven't?"
"I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about all them other kids, like that friend of yours."
"Cal? He's from a rich family but that doesn't mean he didn't work hard to get where he's at."
"If you wanna believe that, go ahead. I don't agree. That kid had everything handed to him."
"This isn't about Cal. It's about me. And I'm not some spoiled rich kid. I worked hard to get where I'm at, just like you."
He doesn't say anything. He just stares at the TV, which is on but muted.
"I never told you this, Dad, but I always admired how hard you worked at the shipyard. It's a tough job and not many guys stick with it but you've done it your whole life."
"Why are you trying to suck up to me, kid? To get me to not tell on you for breaking the rules?"
"I didn't break any rules. I went back and checked and double-checked and there's nothing I did that went against the guidelines."
"So you're here to tell me to go to hell. That you're not giving me a dime if you make it big."
"That's not why I'm here. I'm here to let you know that I've never looked down on you for what you do. Just because I don't want to do it myself doesn't mean I think it's beneath me. I don't want to do it because I found something else that I love. Something I'm good at that I could actually do for a living. I know you don't like your job and I wish you could've found something you love and done that instead. The fact that you kept working at a job you hated just shows that you're a fighter. You do what you have to do
to survive. And...I'm proud of you for that. I could never do that job for as long as you've done it. I'm young and in good shape and it still wore me out so I don't know how you still do it."
He smiles a little. "Like you said, I'm tough. A lot tougher than you, kid."
"You're right. You are. So can we just agree on that and get past this? Because I really don't want to fight with you anymore."
He finishes his beer then tosses the can across the room, landing it in the wastebasket.
"Remember when I tried to teach you basketball?" he asks.
"Yeah. I wasn't very good."
"Because you wouldn't pay attention. You kept swinging your damn arms around instead of taking the ball."
"I was practicing my golf swing. Pretending I had a club in my hand."
He shakes his head. "I never understood golf. Thought it was the most boring fucking game on the planet. When the old man got you into it I wanted to punch him in the face. Who the fuck did he think he was taking my boy and teaching him something I didn't want him to learn? You were my kid, not his. You were supposed to play basketball or football. A real sport."
So that's why my dad didn't like Albert? Because he taught me how to golf?
It's all making sense now. Why my dad hates golf. Why he hated Albert. Why he made me work at the shipyard. He wanted at least a small part of me to be like him. To like the things he likes, or at least show interest in them, but I didn't. My dad and I really have nothing in common. We're nothing alike. It's just how it is.
"It's not Albert's fault," I say. "When I was a kid and we were moving into this house I went over to Albert's house and found some kid golf clubs and started playing with them. Albert saw how much fun I was having and told me I could come over and play with them anytime. So I did. That's when I fell in love with golf. Even before Albert explained what it was or how you play it, I loved it. It's like I just knew golf was what I was meant to do."
I pause and wait for my dad to say something but he doesn't so I continue.
"I know I disappointed you, Dad, but I can't change how I feel. Golf is who I am, and when I say that, I'm talking about the game, not the money or the fame or the other perks that come with winning. None of that matters to me. What I love about golf is how I feel when I'm playing it. Just being out there, being outside, surrounded by green grass and trees and blue sky makes me happy. It calms me. It's like my second home."
The room goes silent as I wait for him to respond.
"You're right, kid. I am disappointed, but not because you play that stupid game." He looks at me. "Sorry, but to me, that game will always be stupid."
I chuckle. "Fair enough."
"What I'm disappointed in is how you forgot about us. About your mom and me."
"Dad, I've only stayed away from you because all you did was yell at me. You didn't want me around. You kicked me out of the house on my eighteenth birthday."
"Because you made me feel like a goddamn failure! You know how hard it is to live with that every fucking day? To have your own son look at you like you're a failure?"
"Dad, I—"
"You had your turn. Now let me finish."
"Go ahead."
"I was so pissed at you. Getting all that attention and praise just for hitting a ball around with a metal stick. And then you go and get yourself into college. I never even graduated high school."
"But I flunked out. I failed."
"And did I throw that in your face? Call you a failure?"
"No, but, Dad, I never called you a failure."
"But you thought it. I know you did. I could see it on that smug face of yours."
"You saw what you wanted to see because that's not what I was thinking. What I was really thinking is that you didn't give a shit about your kid. That you put me to work when I was too young. That you only saw me as a paycheck. And now I feel like you're doing it again."
"So I'm a failure as a father too. Is that what you're saying?"
"I didn't say that. I just..." I shake my head, frustrated and unsure what to say next.
"Maybe you're right," he says, rubbing his beard. "Maybe I was a shitty father. But it's all I know. My old man used to beat me every night and work me to the bone and half the time he didn't feed me. Compared to that I thought I was doing a good job."
I never met his father. He died before I was born. My dad never talked about him. I had no idea he was abusive.
"Why didn't you ever tell me that?" I ask.
He shrugs. "What good would it have done?"
"It would've explained a lot. I never understood why you treated me that way. I still think it's wrong but now it kinda makes sense."
My dad looks at me. "What do you want, Luke? Why are you here? If it's about the money, forget it. I don't want your damn money. I just..." He sighs. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to prove something."
"Dad, I don't want to keep doing this. I don't want to keep reliving the past. Can we just end this? Can we stop fighting?"
Chapter Twenty-Six
Taylor
"What'd he say?" I ask Luke as we're walking over to Albert's house.
"I'll tell you when we're inside." Luke unlocks the door. "I'm surprised my key still works. I thought for sure Albert's daughter would've changed the locks." He pushes the door open. "Go ahead."
I walk inside, going around some boxes that are by the door. The house is really small but it's what I thought it would look like, given Luke's description.
"Hasn't changed much," Luke says. "There's a little less clutter but other than that it's the same. Albert's daughter said she was going to renovate the place but she must've decided it wasn't worth it."
"It's nice," I say.
"It's a shithole," he says, putting his arm around me. "You can say it. I don't mind."
"It just needs some work. Maybe a few coats of paint, some new curtains. Maybe re-do the tile in the kitchen."
He stands in front of me and smiles. "I got an idea."
"What?"
"You want to help me fix this place up?"
"Um, I guess I could, but I'm not really good at renovating stuff. I've never done it."
"We wouldn't be doing the big stuff, like the tile work. Just stuff like painting. And you could help me pick out new curtains and whatever else you think would look good."
"When do you want to do this?"
"I'm not sure. It'll have to wait until I earn some money but I really want your help, even if it's just to give me ideas on how to make it look better."
"I'd love to! Sounds fun!"
He hugs me. "I love you. Thanks for coming here with me. It's not as sad being here when you're here too. And it really helped to have you with me when I saw my parents."
"So how did it go? What'd your dad say?"
"Not much. He mostly listened. But we both said stuff we should've said a long time ago. I think we understand each other better now."
"Is he going to keep bothering you for money?"
"I don't think so."
"What changed his mind?"
"He didn't really say."
"Then how do you know he'll leave you alone?"
"He asked me to go to a baseball game, and a football game in the fall."
"I don't get it."
"That's his way of telling me he's done fighting with me without actually saying it. He hasn't taken me to a game since I was a kid, like maybe four or five."
"Why'd he stop taking you?"
"He thought I didn't want to go. I started getting into golf when I was five and that's all I wanted to do. I didn't realize until today how much it hurt my dad that I didn't do stuff with him."
"He hurt you too by treating you the way he did."
"I know, but I didn't want to bring all that up today. I want us both to get past it. My dad and I will never have much in common but if I do stuff with him, stuff that he likes, I think we'll get along better."
"When are you going to the baseball game?"
&nbs
p; "I'm not sure. I told him we were leaving tomorrow so it'll have to be whenever we're back in town."
"Why don't we just stay?"
"Stay where?"
"Here. We could start figuring out how to fix up the house and you could spend some time with your dad. I wouldn't mind hanging out with your mom. She's not as bad as you made her sound. She was even asking me about golf."
"She was?"
"She wants to learn how it works so she can understand what's going on when she watches you play."
"My mom's going to watch me play? She said that?"
"She wants to go to one of your tournaments but it has to be close by. She doesn't have money to travel."
"If she really wanted to go I'd pay for it. I'd love to have my mom there."
"What about your dad?"
"He'd never go. He hates golf."
"Maybe he will if you guys start getting along better." I glance around the room. "I think a gray-green color on the walls would look good. And maybe switch out the navy curtains with white ones to brighten the place up. And then maybe we could—"
"Taylor." Luke lifts my face up to his.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just had to tell how much I love you for doing this." He rests his hand along the side of my face and looks in my eyes. "Do you have any idea how happy you make me?"
I smile. "You make me happy too."
"When I was ten Albert told me to find something I love to do and then find a way to make a living doing it. He said that was one of the two secrets of happiness."
"What was the other?"
"He wouldn't tell me. He said I was too young. Then right at that moment I looked at the TV and saw you standing behind your dad. I couldn't stop staring at you. Albert noticed and said I might be ready for him to tell me the other secret to happiness."
"So what was it?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Not you specifically. He said someday I'll meet a girl that I like that I'll eventually grow to love, and if she loves me back I'll know happiness like I've never known before. At the time I couldn't imagine anything making me happier than golf, but now I get what he meant." Luke smiles. "You make me even happier than golf."
"Luke," I say, tearing up a little. I love the way he's so open with me, always telling me how he feels. He says the sweetest things. Things I never thought I'd hear a guy say to me.
Anyone But Her Page 24
