“Congratulations. That’s a big firm. More money?”
“Maybe, maybe not. But one of the perks at HMT is that I get an automatic membership at the GolfCorp clubs.”
Max knew what that meant and felt like he’d been hit in the gut. “So you’ll be playing at Blackhawk Ridge.”
“Yeah, that’s the local club, but they’ve also got courses in Toronto, Calgary and B.C.”
Max was trying to hide his disappointment. “Sounds like a sweet deal.”
“It is, but I’d just like to say that I’ve really enjoyed all of my years at Riverview. It’s a great course and I’d recommend it to anyone.”
“Thanks, we’re proud of it. And thanks for calling to let me know. Good luck at your new club – and your new firm.”
After he hung up the phone, Max slumped back into his chair. How am I ever going to replace Stryker?
Chapter 12: Getting Help
Max headed to his father’s house after leaving the golf course. He was surprised to find there was no one there, neither his father nor Sylvia, the home-care worker they had hired to look after him for a few hours every day. Through the kitchen window, he could see a light on in the garage and headed out to investigate. He found his father kneeling by the back tire of his old Chevy Impala, cursing a blue streak.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing? Never seen a man change a tire before?”
“Dad, you shouldn’t be doing that. Where’s Sylvia?”
“I sent her home. I can take care of myself. Don’t need a baby-sitter checking up on me every five fuckin’ minutes.”
Max sighed. He could tell his dad was having one of his good days, which unfortunately also meant that he was his ornery, pain-in-the-ass self. “Dad, remember we talked about this. You said you’d let Sylvia help out during the day while Karen and I are at work. She’s just here to help.”
“I don’t need any help. I can take care of myself just fine. You know, I caught her snooping through your mother’s stuff. She’s got no business doing that. Probably stole something.”
“I don’t think so,” Max said. “I’m sure she was just trying to clean the place up a bit. Remember, you agreed that you’d let us help you out whenever you need it.”
His father slammed the tire iron onto the garage floor as he tried to get up from his knees. “Okay, you want to help? Help me change this tire. I can’t get the bolts loose – probably rusted on.”
Max grabbed his father’s arm and helped him up. He saw his father grab his back and wince as he tried to straighten up. “Okay, I’ll help. Where’s the jack?”
“In the trunk, where it always is,” he snapped.
Max reached into the trunk, pulled out the jack and placed it under the back of the car. He put the tire iron into the slot and started to turn it to raise the car.
“You’re going to want to loosen the bolts before you lift the car up,” his father said. “Haven’t you ever changed a tire before?”
Max thought for a second and then realized he probably hadn’t changed a tire in over twenty years. “Don’t you have CAA?”
“Yes, but a guy shouldn’t have to call them just to change a tire. Should be able to do some things yourself.”
“Yeah, well I can see you’ve got a nail in the tire, so they’ll probably be able to fix it right here rather than having you drive on that crappy little spare.”
Max opened the glove box and rooted through all of the stuff inside until he found the CAA folder. He called them using his cell phone and gave them the membership number.
“They said they’d be here in about thirty minutes,” Max said. He could see his father was getting tired. “Why don’t we head back into the kitchen and wait there. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
They made their way into the kitchen and Max put the kettle on. He looked through the cupboards until he found the package of Earl Grey.
“Are you supposed to be driving?” Max asked while they waited for the tea to steep.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
Max poured the tea. Karen had told him about the notice requiring their father to take another test to get his driver’s license renewed. Max doubted his father would pass this time, but there was no way he was going to give up his car keys until then.
“Where were you going in the car?” Max asked. “You know, Karen or I can take you anywhere you need to go.”
His father gave him a funny look. It was obvious that he’d forgotten where he was planning to go.
“It’s not important,” his father said as he looked into his tea cup.
* * *
Jerry headed into Shady Oaks for his fifth shift of the week. Since the golf course was closed for the winter, he had the time available to put in more hours as a volunteer at the nursing home. He was standing with Elena, the supervisor of the home, watching all of the patrons taking part in various crafts. Most were gluing small coloured stones onto brooches. One of the staff members was telling them they would make great Christmas presents. A few ladies sat in a circle, knitting.
On the far side of the room, a man in a wheelchair was painting a picture of a tree they could see through the huge windows along the south wall of the room. Most trees had lost their leaves weeks ago, but there was one maple tree that was being particularly stubborn about giving up its huge coat of red.
Over in the corner, all by herself, Shirley was working on a puzzle. Suddenly, she swept her arm across the table sending all of the pieces onto the floor.
“Something’s wrong,” Jerry said. He started to head over to her, but Elena put her arm out to stop him.
“Give her a few minutes,” Elena said.
Jessica, the seventeen-year-old volunteer had also seen what happened and started to head over to pick everything up. Elena waved at her to stop.
“Shirley didn’t have a very good night,” Elena whispered to Jerry. “They’ve got her on some new drug. It seems to be helping a bit with her memory loss, but it’s making her much more irritable. She’s withdrawing more and more from our group activities.”
“The doctor said they’d also increased the dosage of her high blood pressure pills,” Jerry said.
“Yeah, they did. That’s one of the side-effects of the new drug. They’ve got her on so many drugs now she could probably open her own pharmacy.” Elena gave a heavy sigh. “I hope it’s all worth it.”
Jessica was pleading with her eyes for permission to help Shirley. When Shirley started to pick the puzzle pieces off the floor herself, Elena finally waved Jessica over to help.
“Should I help?” Jerry asked.
“Give her a few more minutes to compose herself,” Elena said. “She’s still learning how to deal with her frustrations. We don’t want her to feel embarrassed about her little outburst.”
Jerry waited another minute or two before heading over to Shirley. “We should probably get you a bigger table for your puzzles,” he said as he approached.
Shirley’s face flushed as she quickly picked the last few pieces up off the floor. “Oh, hello,” she said as she straightened her hair. “Are you one of the new patients here?”
Jessica looked confused. “This is Jerry, one of our volunteers. He spoke to you just a couple of days ago.”
“I don’t think so,” Shirley said. “We’ve got so few men around here, I’m sure I would have remembered him.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jerry said. “Jessica, why don’t you go see if anyone else needs help? I’m going to help Shirley with this puzzle.”
* * *
Cheech sat in the small meeting room of the advertising company, waiting for his interview to begin. He’d been surprised when he got the call to come in for a face-to-face meeting; he’d stumbled across their job posting online and only applied because he had no other prospects in the hopper.
He scanned the pictures on the wall showing posters of some of the successful marketing cam
paigns the company had developed. They all seemed to be for small companies claiming to have found the next big thing. There was also a picture of the founding partners of the firm, three men in their late twenties or early thirties. Not a good sign. Cheech noticed that their last names had the initials of N, B and T. Guess the company name didn’t stand for “Next Big Thing” after all. Or maybe that’s why they were the name partners. Cheech shuddered at the thought.
There was a soft knock on the door and an attractive brunette who looked to be in her late twenties entered. There was something about the way she carried herself that indicated she had some depth to her. Cheech rose to meet her.
“Hello,” she said as she reached out her hand. “I’m Melanie Johnson, one of the managers here at NBT.
Cheech shook her hand. “Ian Martin, nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for coming in to meet with me,” she said as they sat down. She slid one of her business cards over to him and Cheech noticed that the title on the card said she was an advertising associate, not a manager.
For the first twenty minutes of the interview, they went through the standard questions and answers. Melanie described the type of work the firm engaged in, mostly marketing campaigns for small start-up companies hoping to make it big. Cheech described a few of the successful marketing campaigns he had run at his old car company. But Cheech had a sense that what wasn’t being said was more important.
Melanie stopped taking notes and put down her pen. “Forgive me for saying this, but you’re much older than I was expecting. You realize this position is a relatively junior position, right? You have so much experience. Why did you apply?”
“Because I need a job,” Cheech said. “And when you’re over fifty, finding a job, even a junior position, is damn near impossible.”
Cheech figured he wasn’t going to get the job anyway, so he decided to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. “But you knew I was over-qualified before I got here. Your clients are small start-ups and my experience is with a huge corporation. Why did you ask me to come in for an interview?”
She leaned back in her chair and studied him before answering. “Because of who you used to work for.”
Cheech was confused.
Melanie leaned forward. “Talk on the street is that your old employer is not happy with their current advertising company and is open for pitches from new firms with fresh ideas. We’re planning to bid on the business.”
“Good luck with that,” Cheech said. “Car companies don’t work with small companies like yours, only the big firms.”
“That’s what the partners here said too, but I convinced them to let me create and lead a new auto group to go after the business.”
“You have an auto group?”
Melanie’s face flushed a little. “Well, technically I am the auto group right now, but I’m looking to add people, the right kind of people.”
Cheech could see the passion in her. He remembered when he was young and full of piss and vinegar, before he’d taken so many body blows that had knocked the wind out of him. “You really think you can win the business?”
“I’m sure of it,” Melanie said. “Will you help me?”
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. If you haven’t already heard, they fired me. Said I was too old.”
Melanie looked directly at him. “Are you?”
Cheech looked straight back. “Hell, no!”
Chapter 13: Christmas Presents
Elena supervised as Jessica, Emily and Jerry worked to maneuver all of the residents into the main hall at Shady Oaks. There was a buzz of excitement as they gathered to draw names for the Christmas gift exchange. Jessica, still a kid at heart, seemed the most excited of them all.
“Can I borrow your hat please?” Jessica asked one of the residents. Technically, Stanley wasn’t supposed to wear a hat inside Shady Oaks, but no one had the heart to enforce the rule. He had first worn it a few years ago to cover up the scars and bandages from getting treatments for the melanoma that started appearing on his bald head, ironically caused by spending too much time outside in the sun without a hat. Since then, the hat had become part of his persona.
He gladly handed his hat to Jessica who started putting little pieces of paper into it, each containing the name of one of the residents. She shook the hat to shuffle up the names.
“Okay, Christmas is only three weeks away and this is for our Secret Santa gift exchange. Whoever’s name you get, just get them a small present to open on Christmas day. It doesn’t have to be big or expensive. I know many of you have been making things in our arts and crafts classes that would be perfect gifts.” She scanned the people in the room. “Who wants to go first?”
Several hands shot up and Jessica headed over to the first person to raise their hand. “Janet, just reach in and pick a name.”
Janet pulled out a piece of paper and opened it to read the name. “Oh good, I got Betty’s name,” she said.
“Shush,” Jessica whispered. “Remember, it’s supposed to be a secret.”
Jessica moved through the room, allowing each of the seniors to select a name. Almost everyone announced the name they had selected, so there weren’t going to be many secrets left to reveal come Christmas day. But that didn’t matter. They all seemed to enjoy these types of activities.
Finally, Jessica headed over to Shirley who was sitting by herself at the back of the room. Shirley reached into the hat, pulled out the last remaining piece of paper and opened it to read the name.
“I don’t know who that is,” Shirley whispered.
Jessica didn’t even look at the piece of paper because she already knew whose name was on it. “Oh, good for you,” Jessica said. “You picked Jerry’s name.” She pointed to him. “You remember Jerry.”
Elena rolled her eyes. Volunteers were not supposed to participate in the gift exchange. She knew that Jessica had rigged the draw to ensure that Shirley would draw Jerry’s name.
“Jessica, could I have a word with you please?”
Jessica slowly walked toward her, her face taking on a crimson tone.
“I don’t suppose you know how Jerry’s name happened to end up in the hat, do you?” Elena said.
“I’m sorry. I guess I must have put it in there by mistake.” Jessica hung her head, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s just that Shirley doesn’t want to participate in any of our group activities anymore. Jerry’s the only one she ever talks to.”
“Well, there’s not much we can do about it now, is there?”
“Sorry. It’ll never happen again.”
Elena let the silence linger for a few seconds. “Dismissed,” she finally said.
* * *
It was about a week before Christmas and Cheech was wandering aimlessly through the mall. He really didn’t have much to buy, which was a good thing, because he’d now been out of work for several months and his bank account had been dropping at an alarming rate. He hadn’t thought about money for most of his life, but it seemed to be becoming a point of stress for him now that he didn’t have any coming in. He wished he hadn’t pissed away so much of it on the sports car.
He’d already shipped presents to his parents out in Victoria. They’d invited him there for Christmas, but he’d declined, saying he was following up on some leads for a new job. That was a lie. He really only had one prospect, the junior position at NBT, and he wasn’t sure that was going to come through either.
As he walked through the sports store, he came across a golf jacket that would be good for his wife. Ex-wife? No, that wasn’t right either. What do you call your ex when you’re just separated, but not divorced? Jeez, I was so stupid. I can’t believe I screwed that up.
He looked at the tag on the jacket. It was waterproof, including zippers that would prevent the rain from leaking through. It had a waist and cuffs that you could cinch up tight so the jacket wouldn’t flop around while you swung. He knew Maggie had been looking for one
just like it for quite a while. Are you supposed to buy a Christmas present for your wife when you’re separated? Probably not, but that seems harsh. Send her a card? No, that doesn’t seem right either.
“Are you finding everything okay?” a sales clerk asked.
The question jolted Cheech back into reality. “Yeah, I’m just wondering whether this would be right for my wife.”
“We just got it in,” the clerk said. “It’s next year’s model. We don’t normally bring in golf apparel until the spring, but we thought we’d bring in a few for Christmas this year. They’ve been selling quite well.”
Cheech heard the musical tone of his cell phone and reached into his pocket. “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this call,” he said to the clerk when he saw who was calling.
“No problem. Just let me know if you need anything.”
Cheech swiped his phone to answer the call. “Hello, Ian Martin speaking.”
“Hello, this is Melanie Johnson from NBT. Is this a good time to talk?”
Cheech moved back into the corner of the store away from the noise. “Sure, I’m just out doing some Christmas shopping. I’ve been hoping you’d call.”
“Well, I’ve got some good news. We’ve been shortlisted by your old company to come in to present a marketing strategy to them. Presentation happens in early April, so we’ve only got three months to put it all together. The partners here have authorized me to offer you a three-month contract to help us flesh it out. If we win the business, we’ll hire you on full time. I know you were hoping for a full-time position right away, but that’s all they’re prepared to offer right now. Still interested?”
“Absolutely,” Cheech said.
“Wonderful. Are you available tomorrow around two to come in and work out the details?”
“Sure, that sounds good. Thanks so much.”
Cheech felt the pressure release from his shoulders as he ended the call. He started to walk out of the store, but stopped again at the jackets. He searched through them until he found his wife’s size, pulled it from the rack and headed for the checkout.
The Back Nine: A Novel About Life After Fifty Page 7
