Worth the Drive

by Mara Jacobs

  “She wouldn’t take any kind of comfort from me. Didn’t want it. Not from me, anyway. I suppose she got it from her friends.

  “So, I turned away for comfort too,” Ron continued. “Once. With Amber. The day Katie’s period came and she shut down again. I went out. Got drunk. And there’s Amber. She started coming on strong, telling me I’d been her favorite teacher, that she’d always had a crush on me. Really stroking me. What can I say? I needed to hear that. I needed to see myself the way Amber saw me. Not as the failure who couldn’t get his wife pregnant. For one night I could forget the pain that Katie was going through. The pain I was going through.”

  He held his hands up as if to fend off the coming barrage, but Petey kept quiet. So did Darío. Ron lowered his hands. No attack had come, but he already had the look of someone defeated.

  “I felt shitty about it. Really started trying to break down the barriers with Katie. Knew that we had to get past the infertility stuff or we weren’t going to make it. That’s when Amber told me she was pregnant.”

  He looked away again. Darío looked to see that the boys had remained on the benches some yards away, eating their sandwiches and talking amongst themselves. He caught Stevie’s eye and knew the boy was the reason the men had been left alone so long. There were other golfers on the course, but none that had made the turn to the back nine yet, so they weren’t holding anyone up. Darío nodded to Stevie and the boy nodded in return. Smart kid. Darío would tip him well.

  Ron returned his gaze to Petey, but it looked to Darío that his sight was somewhere else. Miles away. Months away. “How fucked up was that? I couldn’t make a baby with the woman I loved after trying for years and years, and I get some girl I barely know pregnant on a one-night stand. It shook me. I didn’t know what to do. Amber was scared. Said she couldn’t go through a pregnancy alone. That her family would turn their backs on her. That she’d have an abortion if I didn’t want to be with her. I don’t know if she was playing me or not. It could have been a bluff, but there was no way I was going to find out for sure.”

  Darío understood that. The minute Katie had told him she was pregnant, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure his child was taken care of. He could not fault Ron for ensuring the safety of his child.

  Ron let out a snort of disgust. “I even tried to talk Amber into giving the child up to Katie and me. I didn’t know how I’d get Katie to agree to it. I just couldn’t bear the thought that I’d have to choose between my wife and my child.

  “But, eventually, I realized that’s exactly what I had to do. I knew Katie would survive. She would be devastated about the baby, and she’d hate me, but she had her family, and Lizzie and Alison. I knew she’d be taken care of. I…I wasn’t so sure about my baby.”

  He cleared his throat, His voice cracked as he added, “I had to make sure my baby would have at least one parent in its life who was ready to be a parent. Who wanted to be a parent.”

  Petey and Darío remained silent. What could they add? Would Darío be able to choose between the welfare of his child and remaining with Katie? He was thankful that wouldn’t be the case in his situation. He would never worry about his child with Katie as its mother.

  “So I left Katie. God, that day. That horrible day.” He shook his head, as if the memory would never leave his mind. “It was brutal. No. I was brutal. I was so pissed that I had to make this choice. That I had put myself in this position. And yet, I was so happy about becoming a father. I turned it all on Katie. Totally unleashed it. Was a total prick. But, maybe that was for the best.”

  “How?” Petey asked.

  “She hates me now,” Ron said. He waited for Petey to contradict him, but Petey didn’t say a word. “That’s probably better. At least we can both start over. Get on with our lives. Can you imagine the situation if she still loved me?”

  A lump formed in Darío’s throat. If Katie had heard all this would she feel differently toward Ron? Would it matter? It wouldn’t change the fact that she was now carrying Darío’s child. Maybe carrying his child. Probably carrying his child.

  “You didn’t say if you still loved her,” Petey asked as Darío thought the same thing.

  Ron barked a laugh. “Hell yes, I still love her. You don’t spend seventeen years with a woman like Katie and not love her forever.”

  Darío held his breath. Was there a but coming?

  “But,” Ron said. Darío exhaled. “Now there’s Crystal. I got to tell you, Petey, she’s changed my life.” He whirled to Darío. “Darío, do you have kids?”

  Startled, Darío answered, “I…I…not yet.” That was true. And all he was willing to say to these two men. For now.

  Ron was shaking his head. “So you guys can’t really understand. I know they always say you’ll never be the same once you become a parent, and that no one ever really knows those kinds of feelings…protectiveness…fierceness…until you have a kid. It’s true. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Crystal. To make sure she was safe and happy and taken care of.” He held up his hand and shrugged with the simplicity of it. “She’s my life.”

  Petey turned and walked away. Ron looked at Darío. Darío met his gaze. He wanted to hate the man for the pain he’d caused Katie. But the man was simply trying to protect his child. Would Darío do anything less?

  He was relieved he did not have to make a comment to Ron about his confessions because Petey turned around and said. “Ten bucks for closest to the pin on this hole, guys?”

  They waved the caddies over to them and played the rest of the round in relative silence, only talking about golf swings and techniques. Darío told the story that amateurs most often wanted to hear – how he’d won the green jacket of the Masters.

  They finished the round with Darío wining by double digits, which was no surprise. Petey and Ron had identical scores, which irked both men. It seemed a fitting end to the most exhausting round of golf Darío could remember playing in a long time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The more I practice, the luckier I get.

  - Jerry Barber, professional golfer

  They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements when they’d come up with their plan for Katie to travel with Darío. That fact became clear to Katie at their first Tour stop, in Denver, when they had an awkward moment at the hotel registration desk.

  The hotel had a last minute cancellation from a player who withdrew from the tournament and Katie was able to have a room of her own. The hotel receptionist remarked on how lucky they were to have found another room with no notice.

  Katie wasn’t sure if that luck was working against her or for her. Darío seemed amenable to separate rooms, and that too kept her wondering.

  The altitude in Denver was a shock to Katie, but she rallied and walked the course each day with Darío’s group. They had dinner the first two nights with Binky who seemed delighted that Katie had joined Darío.

  Darío easily made the cut and would have made the top ten, but he called a penalty shot on himself on Sunday that took him out of contention.

  Binky was furious. “You can’t be sure the ball moved,” he spat out as the threesome drove from the course to Binky’s hotel in the courtesy car the tournament provided.

  “I can’t be sure it didn’t,” Darío said softly.

  Katie got that something had happened on the fourteenth hole and it cost Darío a stroke, a top ten finish and a great deal of money. She’d watched from the ropes as Darío and Binky shared words, then played the rest of the round in stony silence. “Explain this to me,” she said, tentatively, not wanting to upset Binky even more. Oddly, Darío didn’t seem nearly as upset as Binky.

  Darío opened his mouth, but Binky beat him to it. “I’ll explain it to you. When you’re addressing the ball on the green for a putt, if the ball moves while your club is grounded, whether you touch it or not, it’s a penalty stroke. That’s why, if it’s a really windy day, lots of golfers will take a long time in their pre-shot, but hit the put
t as soon as they get up to the address, just in case the wind moves the ball.”

  “So, the ball moved?” Katie asked, not seeing why Binky would be so upset. Golfers lived and died by the rules. In no other sport did the participants call penalties on themselves. It was a fact of the game.

  Darío again opened his mouth and again Binky cut him off from the backseat. “That’s just it. Guv, here, can’t be sure. He thinks it might have moved. Nobody saw it move. Even he didn’t see it move.” The exasperation in his voice was evident.

  Katie looked from Binky in the back to Darío across the front seat from her.

  “When I replace my ball after Binky cleans it, I always place it a particular way with the word Titleist at the very top of the ball reading left to right.” Darío’s voice was controlled, just like the man. His tone was patient, as he explained to Katie, and Katie suspected, to Binky as well.

  Katie nodded. She had already witnessed some of the rituals that the golfers had. All different, but all consistent. Darío continued, “I placed my ball, took my practice swings, and walked to the ball and took the address. When I looked down, the word Titleist was at the bottom, near the grass. The ball had moved.”

  “But you don’t know that it moved before or after you addressed the ball and grounded your club. It could have been while you were taking your practice swings,” Katie said.

  “Exactly,” Binky added from the back. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. Katie turned back to Darío in time to see him glance in the rearview mirror at Binky with a stern look that Katie was sure Binky would ignore, if he even saw it at all.

  “I cannot be sure that it didn’t move while my club was grounded, so, I had to call the penalty on myself,” he said, nonchalantly, as if losing $40,000 because of a penalty stroke were an every day occurrence.

  “That stroke cost you more than I make in a year,” Katie said.

  “It’s not about the money. It’s about being able to sign your scorecard with a clear conscience.”

  Binky snorted. “Meanwhile, there’s a couple of guys out there who take every advantage on their drops, some outright illegal.”

  Darío only shook his head. “I cannot play their game for them. I can only play within the rules myself. I can look myself in the mirror while shaving. I wonder if they can.”

  The car fell silent as Katie wondered how Ron felt when he shaved his chiseled face every morning.

  Darío was used to doing things alone. He traveled alone. He spent his evenings alone. Sure, a couple of nights a week he and Binky ate dinner together, but he always returned to the quiet tranquility of his hotel room.

  It wasn’t like he was starved for company. During the days he was at the course playing a round and then practicing on the range. He usually played his practice rounds with another Spaniard if there was one in town for that particular tournament. If not, there were several players on the Tour that he’d known for years that he played with. The camaraderie on the practice range was enough togetherness to suit Darío.

  So it came as a great shock to him how much he enjoyed Katie’s constant companionship. And there was no way it could be anything less than constant. Sometimes on a Tuesday or Wednesday she’d stay at the hotel and write or she’d be doing an interview with a fellow player. But otherwise, she was with him.

  Except for the nights when they both slept alone, his body aching for her.

  After their first week in Denver, Katie’s editor had emailed her applauding the story she’d sent him on a player who had missed the cut for the forty-second straight week and the perseverance of that player to keep on trying to make the cut, save his card, and stay on Tour. The wire service picked it up and the next week, in Flint, she wrote about a player on his fourth marriage, who was habitually in and out of rehab with a drinking problem. Much had been written about this player through the years as he was very popular amongst the fans, but Katie’s story went deeper than a writer normally would, and it showed in the article.

  Darío was not surprised at Katie’s talent, though she seemed surprised at the success of her articles. He was glad that the sacrifice of leaving her home to be on the road with him was paying off for her professionally.

  Most days she got up when Darío did and after breakfast at the hotel where she made sure to drink her dreaded milk, they’d go to the course together. She sat in the stands at the practice range, sometimes taking a book, sometimes writing in a journalist’s notebook, sometimes just watching Darío.

  He’d look up every so often, making sure she was okay, that the heat – or rain, or cold – wasn’t bothering her. She’d sit on the top row, usually in a corner, distancing herself from the others who came to watch the players practice. She’d become quite tan from the days in the sun, though she was careful never to burn.

  He gave her new Chapsticks all the time, but she always seemed to forget them when they left for the course. One night at dinner, trying to find something in her purse, she’d emptied the contents on the table, only to have several tubes of lip balm scatter across to Darío.

  In the stands, she was like a beacon to Darío, calling to him on the ground. As if she were a golden angel, her white hair her halo, her presence hovering over Darío in a kind of peaceful blessing.

  And that’s how he felt with her watching over him. Peaceful. Blessed.

  He noticed he didn’t search out the galleries as much as he used to. Only to find her, which was never difficult. She was normally alone, walking ahead, her eyes more times than not on him. Sometimes she’d walk with the wife of the player he was paired with, but usually only if that woman made the first overture. She attracted men, but with a smile and a kind word or two, separated from them and walked the course alone during Darío’s rounds.

  If only he could do something about her sleeping in a different room.

  The first week in Denver, it seemed like a fluke that there’d been an open room. The next week, in Flint, he’d asked at the desk when they’d arrived, more for show than actually wanting there to be an available room. He was taken aback when the hotel manager moved heaven and earth to find another room for his “honored guest” Mr. Luna. Too bad none of the big guns were playing that week or Darío was sure his stature would have slipped a few notches from honored guest to “one of those golfers”.

  He’d waited for Katie to jump in with a “No, no, don’t go to any trouble. One room will be fine.” But she hadn’t. So he’d kept silent as well. And slept alone again since the night she’d left his room in Texas.

  After watching her walk the course in front of him all day, gazing at her graceful sway, he could barely stand to sit across the table from her at dinner. The need to hold her again, to kiss her was unbearable. She’d smile her brilliant white smile at something he’d say, and he’d nearly lose it. The steel control he used on the course was coming in handy off the course as well.

  But, he didn’t want to pressure her. It was enough that she’d agreed to come on the road with him, let them get to know each other so they could make the best decisions for their child as possible. Well, not enough, but it was what he’d asked for. The deal they’d made.

  He was foolish enough to believe that once on the road, Katie would want to resume their physical relationship. That after leaving the Copper Country, leaving memories of her life with Ron, her thoughts would be only of Darío. Of that passionate night they’d shared. Of the intense release they’d brought each other to.

  It had been good for her, hadn’t it?

  Darío refused to believe that anything so satisfying to him could have been one-sided. But then, he figured all men thought that at one time or another.

  The third week out, in Chicago where the year’s last major was being played, Darío was astonished to find out that he’d been put in a suite. So there was no need for Katie to get her own room – and there were none to be had anyway – but she did have her own bedroom. The management of the hotel was catering to past major
winners by giving them suites instead of regular rooms. A nice perk that would have been appreciated any other time. But not this week.

  Darío seriously thought about trading in his Claret Jug for one night in the same room – the same bed – with Katie.

  The suite was beautiful. Huge. The bedrooms seemed miles apart. And that was not a good thing to Katie. She was happy to finally be sharing rooms – sort of – with Darío.

  She enjoyed the time they spent together. He was a fascinating man. Very well-read, which surprised Katie. She knew she shouldn’t generalize, but she’d figured Darío for the typical jock.

  Never had she and Ron spent the entire time over dinner discussing the religious undertones of Moby Dick. Katie was fairly certain Ron had never even read Moby Dick let alone picked up on undertones.

  Darío brushed aside her admiration of his reading list. “There is much time on flights, or waiting for rain delays. There is always time to kill,” he’d said.

  That was true, but she now knew from experience that most of the golfers spent that time playing poker, chasing girls and making investment deals with their brokers on their ever-present smartphones and tablets.

  That was another thing. Darío didn’t have a bunch of gadgets, just a basic cell phone to keep in contact with his mother. Nor did he have an agent, manager, coach and trainer who traveled with him. Binky traveled separately, as most of the caddies did, to each event. Darío made one call each week to his manager back in Spain to check on flight arrangements and if there were any changes Darío should know about. Katie didn’t ask about the details of her traveling with Darío. It seemed the manager handled that and there was plane reservation information waiting for them both at their hotel for their next stop.

  Darío didn’t have an entourage as many of the players of his caliber did. Well, Katie supposed, he did now…her.