by Lynn Stevens
“It’s the father son tournament, Lucy.” Dad’s inner sneering almost came out. “Not the father daughter tournament.”
“Yep,” I said, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and walking toward the sliding glass doors to the backyard. “It’s a sexist tournament in the twenty-first century. Be a pioneer, Dad. Be a rebel.”
I went outside and set my water on the table. Concentrating on my breath, I stretched by doing a series of yoga poses. The back of my thighs burned so good. I loved stretching more than running. Maybe I’d be a yoga instructor when I grow up. That would piss both of my parents off. Unless I started a yoga studio, franchised it, and became a multi-millionaire. Then I’d inherit the house and get to do this all over again.
Did I want that?
I glanced at the small redbrick house. It wasn’t the biggest, the best, or the most expensive. The only thing it had going for it was history. Our family had lived here for a century. Maybe it was time we didn’t.
After twisting left to right, I turned on my ear buds and my tunes on my smart watch then rounded the side of the house. The streets were empty of kids but not of the walking Moms. I let the beats of Imagine Dragons drown out the noises as I started into a jog. If my school had a track team, I would’ve been the long distance runner. Maybe when I get to college, I would try out for the team. Or I could start running marathons. There was always a marathon somewhere. I could probably travel the country doing as many as possible.
By the time I got home, I’d ran five miles and forgotten about Brendan leaving, the golf tournament, Vicky’s cold shoulder, and just about everything else. Running did that for me. It cleared my head and left me gloriously blank. Maybe I should try to run a half marathon so this bliss would last longer. That was a thought.
I walked around the side of the house to the backyard, slowly catching my breath from sprinting the last couple of blocks. Dad was at the practice tee. He dropped his back shoulder too low and shanked the ball to the left of the net. I didn’t need to turn off my music to know he was cussing.
My clubs were siting just inside the garage door. I reached in and grabbed my three wood. Dad hadn’t noticed me and repeated the exact same thing he’d just done. I popped out my ear buds and walked up to him.
“Can I try?” I said as innocently as he expected. My hands tightened around the club. I hated faking who I was just for the sake of his feelings.
Dad raised an eyebrow and stepped back, holding his hand out to say ‘be my guest’. I almost laughed at that. Grabbing a ball, I put it on the tee and lined up. Closing my eyes for a moment, I imagined where the ball would go on the fairway. It was a trick the pro taught me when I first started taking lessons. I opened my eyes, zeroed my gaze on the ball. As I pulled the club back slowly, I inhaled a deep breath. Then I brought it back in a swooping downward arc as I exhaled. The ball sailed straight and true into the net. I smiled.
“Maybe we can talk about you playing in the tournament,” Dad said. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips drew into a thin line. “I’ll have to clear it with the club.”
I said the only thing I could at that point. “Okay.”
“It won’t be easy. They’ve never let a girl play before.” Dad’s eyebrows furrowed as if this idea bothered him more than it really did. “They may say no.”
“I understand,” I said, resetting my ball on the tee. I positioned myself over the tee and relaxed my shoulders. “But think of it if they did agree, you’ll be a pioneer at the cub. All the men will remember the man who insisted his daughter get to play in the father son tournament. Think of all the men who don’t have sons, only daughters. You’ll be a hero.”
I didn’t have to look up to know the expression on my father’s face. The idea of being a hero, being remembered, that always elated him. I pulled back my club and smashed the ball in to the net.
“Imagine when we win. Not only will you be the first father daughter team, we’ll be the first father daughter team to hoist the big trophy.” I turned around. Dad stared off into the sunset, or wherever he was staring, but he looked like he was lost in the best dream he’d ever had. “The club would have our picture on the wall forever.”
Slowly, he started nodding as if he could see it, too. I put my club on my shoulder and strolled back toward the garage.
“You’re playing,” he said.
I didn’t turn around as I said, “Okay.”
He chuckled to himself as he hit the ball into the net again. Then he started cursing. Without looking, I knew he’d dropped his shoulder too far.
Chapter Three
The house was empty when I woke up the next day. I’d slept in until nine and felt no guilt. Brendan had texted last night that he was home, as in back in Chicago. He even sent a selfie with his boyfriend who was super cute with pale skin and red hair. I set it as his profile on my phone. I sent an emoji then got dressed for my morning run.
When I got to the kitchen, I found a note from Mom. She was meeting with “the girls” and would be home late. Dad was at work. I literally had the entire house to myself. There wasn’t any rush to get outside. Grabbing a cup, I poured myself a cup of orange juice and opened my phone again.
The text from Erik Perday was still there, still unread. I ignored it. There wasn’t anything to say to him anyway. Not after what he did to Vicky. He broke her ribs during the last game of the season. She’d wanted to play baseball again, found a team, and that was how it ended for her. Erik didn’t deserve a minute of anyone’s time.
I sent Vicky a text. Wanna do something today?
Can’t. That was all she sent.
Then my phone dinged again. Sorry. I’m putting up drywall. House is almost done.
I forgot about her volunteer work on the house. Manual labor was not my thing, but I didn’t mind donating to charity. That was definitely something I could do instead of sitting on my ass watching so bad its good reality TV. And my closet was getting out of control again. Vicky’s grandma took clothes to a battered woman’s shelter. They could always use donations.
Inspiration struck, and I went back upstairs to my room. An hour later, I had two bags of clothes and another bag of barely worn shoes. I put them in the trunk of my Jetta. It was already ungodly hot outside. I still needed to run. Maybe lift some weights to tone my arms more. Going to the gym seemed like a decent idea. Plus I’d get out of the empty house.
It was just after eleven when I got to the gym. Influence wasn’t a typical chain gym. It took up a huge block and was two stories tall. The main floor had a reception area with three large studios for classes as well as four smaller offices for nutrition consultations and private meetings with a personal trainer. The pool, sauna, and locker rooms took over the rest of the first floor. The second story held two smaller studios and the training equipment. I flashed my ID card and went upstairs without breaking my stride.
Running on the treadmill wasn’t the same as running around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t hot and humid. Bonus I could cool off in the pool after lifting weights. After I checked in and locked up my bag, I stretched and climbed onto the treadmill. I pushed myself harder than normal, setting the machine at a higher angle and pushing an extra mile. By the time I was done, sweat ran in a river down my spine.
“Hey, Andrea,” Elise Van Dyke said. She was a year behind me in school. I liked Elise, even though she wasn’t part of our crowd. She was shy with light reddish-brown hair and wide brown eyes normally hidden behind thick glasses that perched on a long narrow nose. Which she wasn’t wearing?
“Hi, how’s your summer going?” I asked as I stretched my arms over my head.
“Pretty good.” She smiled and her teeth were perfect. No more braces.
“Contacts?” I asked.
Her smile only grew. “No, lasik. My braces came off last month.” She shrugged, a slight blush tanning her cheeks. “I feel like a different person.”
I could understand that.
“Are you running in the 5k nex
t weekend?” Elise walked over to a treadmill and straddled the belt. “I am. Although I don’t know if I’ll be able to run the entire thing.”
“Not this year. But I’m sure you’ll do great.” Mom and I were supposed to visit Brendan in Chicago that weekend, but I doubted that was happening now. There was just too much going on, and I felt like there was more than I knew, too. I glanced over to the free weights. “Have a great workout,” I said before I walked away. “See you next weekend.”
Elise waved over her shoulder then put in her ear buds. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at myself. Elise looked totally different. Her hair even seemed brighter, if that was possible. I grabbed five-pound dumbbells and went through a set of arm curls, triceps curls, and hammer curls. My muscles burned in a good way.
My thoughts drifted toward Elise and Vicky and Theo and the mess my life had become over the summer. I did another set. I’d screwed up so much in such a short period of time. Theo had been charming, romantic, and treated me like a queen. He’d told me on the plane that Vicky had broken up with him. He’d told me in Paris that he wanted to kiss me. He’d told me on the train that he was falling in love with me. I played right into his hands.
Vicky had every right and reason to be angry with me, even if she said she wasn’t. Deep down, she had to be. I’d betrayed our friendship on the highest level. She had at least waited to hook up with Daniel until she could break up with Theo in person. I had just taken his word for it.
Elise had changed so much over the summer. When was the last time I’d made any changes? I still did the same thing every day that I’d done since high school.
My phone dinged a text as I finished my third set.
Don’t forget you have an appointment with Dr. Levine at 3. Mom added a thumbs up emoji.
Right. My monthly therapist appointment. I’d forgotten. Okay, I never remembered. Mom thought my teenage angst needed an outlet. I thought it was unnecessary. There wasn’t any major trauma in my life. Drama, yes. Trauma, no. I’d been in therapy since I was twelve. Mom insisted. Brendan came out and she thought I needed someone to talk to who wasn’t my parent. I wasn’t shocked by Brendan’s announcement. I’d seen him making out with his boyfriend a month before, and he’d told me. Mom and Dad didn’t need to know that.
I moved to the leg press and set it at my usual weight. Maybe it was time for a change. Everything else around me was changing, so why didn’t I? The leg press moved to easily. When was the last time I pushed myself to do anything? I added more weight. My thighs burned with the extra effort. It felt great, and I didn’t mind the pain. After I finished two more sets, I glanced at my phone. It was almost one. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I still wanted a swim. My bag was in the back of my car, and I’d have to get my suit out before I got in the pool. Although, I was sweaty enough I wanted to jump in wearing my running shorts and tank.
My phone dinged and I swiped it open without looking at who sent it.
Can we talk?
I glanced at the name. Erik Perday. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? I wasn’t part of his revenge plot against Vicky, and I didn’t want anything to do with him. The only reason I still had his number was for school. We’d been paired together on projects at least once a year since we were freshmen. No doubt it would happen again.
Shaking my head, I closed the message without responding. Erik Perday was the least of my issues right now.
Dr. Levine’s office was forty minutes from the house in St. Charles. I didn’t mind it, but it seemed useless. My life was blah. I sat in my car in one of the public parking lots near the riverside park, killing time before my appointment. Families played catch, rode by on their bikes, ran together, and had picnics. A pang vibrated in my chest.
Glancing at my phone, I realized I had less than ten minutes to get to the office. It was a three minute walk from where I was parked, but I didn’t want to sit here and watch what I’d never had.
I climbed out of my car and was immediately hit by a wave of summer humidity. The short walk felt like strolling through hell.
Dr. Levine’s office was above a boutique selling handmade goods by local artists. It was a hodge podge of jewelry, art, clothes, and soaps. I glanced inside, spying a scarf that looked like someone had splashed watercolors on it. Perfect for Mom. She loved accessories with character. I glanced at my phone. It was too close to my appointment, but I didn’t care. I slipped into the store to buy it. My debit card declined payment. That was totally weird. I offered my credit card which went through without a problem. Maybe Dad forgot to transfer my allowance this week. Wouldn’t be the first time. I tucked the bag under my arm and hurried out toward Dr. Levine’s office.
My legs hurt from working out. Climbing the narrow staircase was harder than normal. When I got to the top, I wanted to sit down. The stifling heat pushed me into the office. Glorious ice cold air wrapped around me as I entered the waiting room. The window unit with streamers worked too well. The waiting room was small with two navy loveseats and an oak coffee table. There weren’t any ancient magazines laid out for reading pleasure. In the corners, plastic plants filled empty space. There were two other doors. One leading to a small restroom, the other leading to Dr. Levine’s spacious office.
The door was open, an invitation to come in. If it was closed, then I waited. I never saw anyone leaving Dr. Levine’s inner office, and that was planned. She believed in privacy. There was a second staircase leading out the back of the building. Her clients came in one way, left another. It was nice, but sometimes the alley behind the building wasn’t the cleanest.
“Hey, Andrea,” Dr. Levine said in her cheerful voice. “Come on in. Have a seat.”
She rose from her perch behind her intricately carved cherry wood desk. Cherubs and flowers lined each leg up to the top of the desk. It was an antique, she’d told me. Her father had used it during his days as a contract lawyer. It was also ugly in its gaudiness. Something like that fit better in a museum than in a small office.
I sat in one of the over-sized white chairs, feeling it sigh under me. Dr. Levine sat across from me in a matching chair, sinking down until she looked like a child playing shrink. She smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back. Her happiness was infectious. I just never knew if it was real or not. Dr. Levine pulled her legs into criss-cross applesauce in the chair. She leaned forward.
“How have you been?” Her eyes narrowed behind her thick glasses.
I tilted my head, trying to decide what to share and what to keep my own. Despite my mother’s desire for this, I never wanted to share my feelings. Dr. Levine knew that though. She never pushed me, but I always felt like she was working through my mind anyway.
“Okay. I went to the gym today.” Good start. Vague, but informative. “It was too hot to run outside and I thought I’d push myself to do some weight training.”
Dr. Levine leaned back. “How is that different from your usual routine?”
“I lifted heavier weights. Ran an extra mile.” I started to shrug, but that was a sure sign there was more behind my story.
“How did it make you feel?” she asked, noting my workout in her notebook.
“Good, actually.” I leaned back in the chair, letting the soft material comfort me and putting my feet on the ottoman between us. Elise nagged at the back of my mind, and I started talking before I realized what I was doing. “There was a girl from my school there, too. She looked so different. Her glasses were gone. The braces were gone. Even her hair was styled in a more fashionable way. I ... I watched her workout on the elliptical and ...”
Dr. Levine raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t say a word. She waited for me to work through it herself.
“Can you have a midlife crisis at seventeen?” I blurted. What was I saying? Even I knew that wasn’t possible. This time I shook my head, damn the consequences.
“What do you mean?” she asked softer.
“I don’t know. I just... she was so different. Not in a bad way at
all. I just mean she had changed and I’m... I’m still the same. I don’t do anything to change anything about myself.” I crossed my arms. Where did this come from? I never did this during therapy. Maybe I did need someone to talk to now that Vicky kept blowing me off. Truth was Vicky and I would’ve looked at Elise and totally judged why she changed instead of wondering why we hadn’t. Then again, Vicky did a complete one eighty over the summer. She was a completely different person too. “I think I want to change. I just don’t know how.”
“Why do you want to change?” Dr. Levine asked.
I swallowed and dropped my feet to the floor. The words sprinted out of my mouth. “Brendan took off yesterday. He was going to play in the annual father son tournament at the club with Dad, but Dad tried to set him up with the mayor’s daughter. Brendan’s done with the crap. He left to go back to Chicago. I don't think he’s coming back for a long time. So Dad asked me to play, but he didn’t want to. I could tell. He wants his son to be more masculine and his daughter to be quiet in the corner. I’m tired of being pushed aside. Mom never stands up to him. She just smiles and acts exactly how he wants me to act and I just can’t do that. I’m not a sit in the corner kind of girl. So I’m going to play. I’m going to show him I’m good enough. That’s why I went to the gym. I wanted to tone and work on building my strength so I can drive the ball harder and farther and prove to him I’m more than good enough.”
Dr. Levine’s wide eyes told me everything I needed to know about my verbal vomit. She saw breakthrough. I felt like an asshole for spilling family secrets. But I wasn’t done.
“My best friend isn’t talking to me anymore. Not really. None of our friends are. It’s like I made this huge, stupid mistake and I’m social poison. Vicky barely texts me back half the time. She’s spending her time with her boyfriend or Rachel. Eva and I were never close. And... I don’t really have anybody outside of that circle.”