All Fore Revenge

by Piper Denna

  Bill had taken the red-eye from Augusta, but he didn’t get there until morning as we were being released. I was in tears and so were the boys. One week later, goofy little Andy chowed down most of a tube of toothpaste, and we’d had to go back.

  “No ER!” I repeated. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’ve been ignoring everybody’s calls, not just yours. So go the fuck away.”

  “I came to pick up the boys.”

  “What do you mean?” Whoa! I rolled over and sat up faster than I’d imagined I could. My heart raced. Was he trying to take the boys from me?

  “They’re flying to Florida with me, for a tournament. If you’d listened to my messages, you’d know. I’ve been trying to arrange it for three days. Al, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Probably not.” I covered my eyes with my hands, and my voice sunk. “No. Can you go now?”

  “No. I’m staying here with you tonight.” He sat on the bed next to me and took my hands in his. “Is the water heater on the fritz?”

  “No. Oh.” My hands went to my hair, flat and limp from tossing and sweating in bed since Monday morning. I could smell myself, which was a bad sign. Much as I resented him and hated myself for it, I felt hot shame over Bill seeing me in such a state. Even the days the boys were born, I’d managed to shower later the same day and look presentable, if exhausted. Now I was just gross. I squeezed my eyes shut, but tears dripped out anyway.

  “Ali, honey. I’m sorry. Jesus. If I’d known it would hurt you like this, I would’ve never… well, that’s not true.” His hand caressed my cheek, and slid into my nasty hair, only to get caught in tangles. He played cool, and kept his hand in one spot, rubbing my scalp. The fact that he could stand to touch me when I was so disgusting only caused the tears to flow faster. “I knew it would hurt you if you ever found out. What I didn’t plan on was that the prospect of losing you would kill me.”

  I let him pull me into his arms, and felt him quiver as he cried against me. He’d apologized, finally. I was shocked.

  “This sucks, huh?” I said against his newly tear-stained, Nike golf shirt.

  He sniffed and shuddered. “Yeah. It really does. What do we do now?”

  “I still don’t know. Laying here miserable about it, I haven’t had an epiphany.”

  “Come with me and the boys to see my mom. She said you still haven’t been down there.”

  I sat up, prepared to protest.

  “Ali. The boys need to see us together. Andy’s asking questions about why you’re not coming to Florida with us. We need to at least show a united front about why we’re not spending time together.”

  *

  Bill’s mom, Marsha, lived alone in a fully-furnished, four-bedroom, three-bath house, on the back nine of the Battlement Mesa Golf Course. Bill footed the bill for all of it, and even paid a maid service to clean twice a week for her. In turn, she’d made the home a monument to Bill’s career, spotlighting his successes in shadow boxes, matted and framed photos of wins, and leather-bound scrapbooks filled with newspaper and Sports Illustrated articles. The last two years, it was starting to look like he’d have to buy her a new house or retire, since her current Bill Museum was nearly filled to capacity.

  Blue-haired Marsha had already taken three days of hogging the boys for herself shortly after we got to Colorado. But when we arrived at her house for dinner she still swore they’d grown since she saw them last. I was hugged last, after the boys and then Bill, and she chastised me for being too thin. Marsha was always sure I’d “put on” weight, or I was starving myself. I rolled my eyes over her shoulder at Bill while she hugged me.

  “A few friends” would be dropping by later, Marsha informed us. We all knew this meant she’d been bragging at the rec center in toile painting class, and clusters of geezers would show up asking for autographs throughout the evening. Marsha served her usual gourmet fare of canned spaghetti sauce and overcooked pasta, and we ate while she recapped Bill’s best strokes from the previous summer. Dessert was a Mrs. Smith’s cherry pie.

  I was morosely stabbing cherries with my fork when Marsha told Bill, “That helper of yours, Brianna, is just the sweetest little thing, Billy.”

  He responded with an appropriate grunt, after meeting my glare.

  Too bad ole Marsha had more praise to offer for Brianna. “She sounds so young, yet she’s so efficient!”

  Will chimed in, “Yeah, she is young, Gran. And real nice.” Will’s eyes lit up more than I cared for when he spoke of my arch-nemesis.

  “Forget about nice,” Andy laughed, elbowing his brother, then pulling his hands downward while tracing an hourglass figure, “she is niiice!”

  I laid my fork down quietly, rather than throwing it across the room as I’d have liked to.

  Marsha found Andy’s antics charming, fluttering her napkin and giggling. “Oh, you boys. She’s pretty then?”

  When both of my sons nodded enthusiastically, I hurried to the bathroom. I allowed myself a good cry, washed my face, and ran smack into Will when I came out.

  “Mom? Did you just throw up?” he asked, concerned.

  “No,” I lied. That was stupid, since he’d been right outside the door.

  “I heard you throw up! Are you bulimic?”

  “No, honey, I’ve just got a stomach bug right now.”

  “Girls always lie when they’re bulimic—they taught us that in health class. And you’re getting skinny since we’ve been in Colorado.” Poor kid looked so worried.

  I hugged him, then said, “Please, baby. I’m okay. I just had an upset stomach. I promise I’ll be fatter when you come back from Florida.” The corners of his mouth lifted a little. “I’ve been working too much and not paying attention to eating. And I’ve been walking a lot, too. But I’ll eat more, I promise.”

  It worked, and he seemed relieved. “I still wish you were coming, so you could spend some time with Dad.”

  “It’s good for you to have ‘guy time’ together. You’ll have a blast at Epcot Center and the beach. Will you help remind Andy to use his sunscreen?”

  He nodded grudgingly and went into the bathroom.

  *

  I insisted on clearing the table and doing the dishes, so Bill and his mother could entertain her “few friends.” The more distance I put between myself and any mention of Bill’s assistant, the easier it would be to get through the night.

  Marsha’s European dishwasher started with a click and a soft hum just as my cell phone rang. It was Cam.

  “Hey,” I said, drying my hands with a paper towel.

  “Ali? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you all week long.”

  “Sorry. I was, er, asleep.”

  He sounded relieved. “I thought maybe you hit it off with that guy, and didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

  “No. That was a one-time thing. I apologize for being short with you Monday. I was upset about a lot of stuff.”

  “Ali, I remember those rotten feelings. It’s only been five years since Erin and I split.” Only. Only five years? “Are you okay now? You sound awake, for once.”

  I took a deep breath, stepped out the back door to the patio. “I’m at my mother-in-law’s, with Bill and the boys.”

  Cam’s voice was tight when he asked, “Are you reconciling?”

  “No. He came to get the boys on the way to Florida for a few days. Things are civil, but cool.”

  “Do the boys know?”

  “Andy thinks I’ve driven his dad away by threatening to find a boyfriend, and Will thinks I’m bulimic, but neither of them know about his affair.”

  “Or yours,” he prompted. “Why does Will think you’re bulimic?” Worry tinged his question.

  I didn’t reply immediately, searching for some glib answer.

  “Ali?”

  “No big deal. Just my sons and Bill’s mom sitting around talking about how wonderful and hot and pretty Brianna is, so I tossed my dinner. Will caught me.”

  “Why don’t you tell them what’s go
ing on?”

  “Bill’s their role model. It’s better if they blame me, rather than have the guy they worship turn out to be a cheating bastard.”

  “I think you take too much on yourself. Let Bill answer for what he’s done. You’d rather have Will think you’re mentally ill than let Bill be seen as less than perfect?” Again, I didn’t reply. “Makes me glad I planned this trip.”

  “Oh, are you taking a vacation?”

  “I’m bringing Emily to Colorado for the weekend. We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

  My traitor heart leaped in happy anticipation. “Okay!” He wanted Emily to meet me? Was this going too fast, or was I happy about being let inside his inner circle, his Daughter Circle? I’d have to think on it later. “I’m still not sure how things are gonna work out, you know, with Bill. Or how soon.”

  “I know how they’ll work out,” he answered without a trace of doubt. “I’ll call you when I get to town. It’s Rifle, right? Mapquest says about ten hours, so we’ll be there mid-afternoon.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Ali?” His voice was lower, and thicker.

  I held my breath after I said, “Yes?”

  “I miss you. So much. I can’t wait to see you. Bye.”

  My heart knotted up. “Bye.”

  I’d no sooner pushed the END button than Bill came out the back door.

  “Was that the bike guy?” he asked. His forehead was sweating where his hairline had receded.

  I was always surprised when I saw him without a hat, and realized how much hair he’d lost. It seemed to be disappearing double-time lately. Bill’s eyes showed hurt and sadness, inversely proportionate to the joy zinging through me.

  “Yes.” No use lying.

  “Come with me. We need to talk.”

  I was expecting a speech about talking to my lover at his mother’s house, or how the boys could have caught me. Instead, he took me behind the garage and kissed me long and hard and passionately.

  “That’s not talking,” I murmured when he’d finished and stood holding me against him.

  “But you knew just what I was saying.” Showing no sign of releasing me, he stroked the back of my hair. “I heard what you said. I, uh, came to the screen door when I heard you go out.”

  “Oh?” I couldn’t recall all that I’d said to Cam.

  “You told him you don’t know how it’ll work out with us. That means there’s still a chance.”

  “Doubtful, Bill. Look…”

  “Baby, do your thing, okay? Get even with me. As long as I know there’s a chance you’ll get over it, I can go on like this. Just please, don’t fall in love with the guy. You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved.”

  “But I wasn’t enough, Bill. You wanted more.” It hurt to say, and it hurt infinitely more to feel.

  “I’m going to tell the boys. I don’t want them blaming you.”

  “Please don’t. Let’s ride this out, first. Maybe they won’t need to know, ever.” It was leading him on, but I was desperate for him to not tear down the boys’ image of him. I wanted them to have a good dad to look up to.

  His arms tightened around me. Shit. Had I screwed up and given him false hope?

  “Brianna threatened to find another job. When I didn’t try to stop her, it pissed her off. She gave me her notice before I left yesterday.”

  “Stupid little twat could’ve had that job forever and not been fired, just by threatening a sexual harassment suit.”

  He sighed. “I know. They’re hiring one of the caddies, a college boy, to replace her. Gates told me he’d be watching me and I’d be lucky if you didn’t put me in the poorhouse via divorce.”

  “He’s right.” Just a little reminder that he wasn’t off the hot seat yet, and anything could still happen.

  “Come on, Honey. Let’s get the kids and be a family for a night. Mom’s driving me nuts; she remembers shots that I’ve forgotten about.”

  *

  Both boys seemed relieved to be sleeping at the farmhouse, in spite of having to share a room. They didn’t even complain about the place being boring, like they usually did. I winked and smiled at Will when I had a bowl of cereal before bed, hoping he’d quit worrying about me.

  *

  In the dark of the room my mother had slept in for over thirty years, my husband spooned his body around mine. I hadn’t missed the signals—he’d shut and locked the door, showered and shaved before bed. But it wasn’t happening; I wasn’t having sex with him.

  “Ali,” he murmured at the nape of my neck, “I love you. It’s been almost two months since we made love. I want you so much.” His erection was an emphasizing point against my bottom. His hand curled round me and cupped both breasts.

  “Bill. I can’t.”

  His sigh against my ear was regretful, but patient. “Okay. Just know that I’m waiting. I’ll be waiting ‘til the day you’re ready for me again.”

  His words surprised me. This was even bigger than his apology, because I’d expected him to be angry. No matter what disagreement we had, I’d never withheld sex from him before his affair. His patience melted a thin patch in my resolve to hate and never forgive.

  He rolled to his back and stroked himself a few times, then asked if I minded, and I told him I didn’t. I listened to him panting and wondered if he thought of me or someone else.

  When he came I heard and smelled, and felt aroused and sickened and just a little inclined to climb on top of him, this man I’d loved since I was a girl.

  Instead, I cried.

  After Bill finished cleaning himself up, he curled around me again, twined his fingers with mine against my breasts, and whispered apologies and words of love in my ear until I fell asleep.

  *

  I woke with Bill still holding me, only I’d turned to face him in my sleep. His smells, the morning breath I was used to, his deodorant and cologne, but most of all the smell of him was comforting. I felt safe and loved, in a way I hadn’t for far too long. The laugh lines creeping out around his eyes made him seem vulnerable to me when contrasted against his strong, lithe body. The trim waist (he must’ve been watching those desserts again) looked smaller against his strong golfer’s shoulders, and pale in comparison to the deeply tanned part of his arms exposed during his work in the sun. And lower still, the part that woke up limp with him these days, rather than woody and ready for action like it used to.

  He was aging, in spite of how he appeared in his clothes. Had he been lured by the promise of youth with Brianna? Flattered that she wanted him, when he was maybe feeling old? Did it really matter what his excuse was?

  He woke and looked back at me for a long moment before he asked softly, “What were you thinking?”

  “I was wondering, why?”

  He knew what I meant. “Not because you weren’t enough, I swear. Maybe because she was always there. And persistent. She was so damn persistent! It’s a lame excuse, I know. But I don’t want you to feel… inadequate, no matter what happens between us.”

  “It’s hard not to. I did, at first.” And have, since.

  He closed his eyes as if preparing for something hard, then asked, “But the bike guy made it better? Who is he?”

  “Let’s not do details, Bill. Don’t want them, won’t give them. But yeah, it helps to know somebody else finds me attractive still.”

  His lips pursed at my refusal to answer his question. I guessed it drove him crazy to wonder who I’d met, and where. That was fine with me. But he was still being so damned understanding about it. “I do still love you, Alison.” He peered at me then, watching my reaction. “Don’t you still love me, just a little?”

  Lying there wrapped in the safety of him, how could I not? “I think so. I’m just not sure if it’s enough.” The limp member was getting firmer against my thigh.

  Bill’s thumbs traced the circles under my eyes. His lips brushed my forehead, and then his hand slid down and cupped my bottom, inside my shorts. I wanted him, and it suddenly see
med pointless to refuse what we both wanted. I pushed against him in answer, feeling him fully erect, and he moaned. His hand slid around to the front, and had just hit hair when a sharp knock on the door broke the spell.

  “Dad! Don’t we have to leave soon?” Andy demanded.

  “Damn kid,” Bill laughed against my forehead. “Has the worst timing in the world.”

  It was just as well, it was time for them to get going. And re-establishing a physical relationship with Bill was a colossally bad idea. I felt like one big stupid pot of hormones for even considering it.

  Shurre showed up just before the guys left, shooting her mouth off about my not answering my phone all week, in front of the boys.

  “I set my phone to refuse calls from rednecks,” I teased. Will looked perplexed and worried again. “Don’t worry Will, Aunt Shurre probably got my number mixed up in her speed dial with the one for her divorce lawyer. He’s only in his office on Fridays now, because he’s semi-retired from handling all her divorces.”

  Bill kissed me goodbye in front of them all, and then held me tight while he whispered that he loved me, again. “Are we still separated?” He looked physically ill when I nodded, but smiled grimly and got behind the wheel.

  *

  “Imagine my surprise,” Shurre growled, as the rental car carrying my men drove away. “What the fuck?”

  “Nothing the fuck,” I replied. “He’s taking the boys to Florida for quality time.”

  “And taking you to the emotional cleaners, I see. Tell me you did not forgive him.”

  “I did not.”

  “Did you boink?”

  I sighed deeply. “Is it your business?” Then feeling guilty, I answered her. “No. We didn’t.”

  “You shouldn’t let him kiss you like that. You’ll give him ideas.”

  “What’s it to you if I lead him on?” I was still angry with her from our last conversation.

  Shurre looked defensive for a second, then said apologetically, “Just don’t fall for him again. It hurts even more the second time.” Shurre had seen her share of failed reconciliations, God knew. In matters of the heart, she was infinitely more experienced at failures and pain than I was.