by James Ross
Captain Jer threw the rest of his cards onto the wet table and said, “I didn’t like that hand anyway.”
“You probably spilled the beer on purpose,” Rollie added. He hacked a couple of times and churned his throat to loosen some phlegm.
“I’ll never tell,” Captain Jer slurred and grinned.
“It’s been like that all week,” Justin turned to Curt and said.
“Yeah, he really gets sloshed,” Keith agreed.
“Does he cheat at cards too?” Curt asked.
Justin nodded his head up and down. “They catch him doing something every day. Yesterday he was accidentally-on-purpose dropping cards on the floor if he didn’t like his hand.”
“And the day before that he would draw two cards out of the deck, throw the cards in the pile and declare a misdeal,” Keith added.
“One other day he was betting out of turn and then taking more money back than what he put in,” Justin said.
“That won’t go over very well with the other guys,” Curt reminded them. “We caught him cheating out on the course the very first day we played with him.”
Justin remembered, “Fred and Rollie have already had words with him.”
Fred finished wiping down the table. “You know, Jer, if you cheat at cards, then you’ll cheat in life.”
Captain Jer let out a burp which was followed by a hiccup. “Thank you, thank you very much,” he offered in a poor Elvis imitation.
“You probably cheat on your wife too,” Rollie blurted. His hacking cough started up after he spoke.
“Are you kidding me?” Captain Jer said. “Of course I do. We cheat on each other and with each other. Look at it this way: she’s an ex-flight attendant and I’m her third husband. It’s not our first time at the rodeo.”
“Can you hold it down over there?” Julie requested. “We’ve got some kids in here.”
Captain Jer’s words were starting to run together and his speech was becoming more difficult to understand. “It’s nothing they won’t eventually hear.” He turned back to the guys at the table. “We’ve got them spread out all over the country.” Captain Jer had been telling the guys over the last week how proud he was to be involved in an open marriage, and how he and his wife played around wherever, whenever and with whomever they felt like.
“Do you two do that ménage-a-twat thing?” Fred asked. He was all ears since sex talk was the nearest thing to the real deal for him.
“All the time!” Captain Jer shouted. He tipped the beer can into the air and sucked out the remains of the can. “Shoot me another one, Sweetie Pie,” he yelled toward Julie. Captain Jer puckered his lips, closed his eyes, and made kissing sounds in her direction.
“You’ve had your limit around here, Captain,” Julie yelled back, “and if you don’t knock it off we’ll put you out the door.”
Captain Jer turned and stared at Julie. He puffed out his lower lip, crossed his arms, and pouted. “The other guys are asking the questions. I’m just answering them.”
“Then hold it down a little. Your voice carries and some of what you’re saying isn’t appropriate in mixed company,” Julie said standing her ground. She glanced at Curt.
“Hey, let’s go hit a few buckets of balls,” Curt offered as he turned to the two boys. “I think that my energy level is good enough to drive to the range and watch you two.” He looked around the clubhouse. “Did you guys brown-bag it today?” Confused looks covered their faces. “You know, pack your own lunch in a sack?”
“Oh,” Justin caught on, “yeah, we can take it with us.”
“Grab your lunch and let’s go to the range,” Curt said. The three of them headed for the door. The two boys ran ahead of Curt. The stitches in his side reminded him to move at a more docile pace. “Load your clubs in the utility vehicle. I’ll be right there.”
“Captain Jer can drink some beer,” Justin said to Curt on the drive to the range. “He gets hammered almost every day.”
“Then he gets loud,” Keith added.
“I’ll keep my eye on him. I don’t want him driving like that, plus we don’t want him to run off the other golfers,” Curt said to the boys as he pulled the cart up to the range. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.” The boys spread the balls out on the practice tee and set up their clubs. “Now remember that everything has a beginning and end,” Curt jogged their memory. “Practice has a beginning and an end and your swing has a beginning and an end. Let’s see a good practice session and some improvement.”
“This is my favorite thing to do out here,” Justin commented as he steadied himself over the ball.
“Just remember to keep the ball back in your stance so that your feet and knees and hips and shoulders are all on the same swing plane,” Curt emphasized. “You two are going to have to do it on your own the rest of the summer. I won’t be able to show you.” Curt rubbed his side.
Keith was hitting balls as fast as he could but was decelerating into the ball. The result was a shank to the right. “Darn it!”
“You have to slow down, Keith,” Curt coached. “I had someone tell me a long time ago that you couldn’t swing slow enough. Practice swinging slow. When you get the club back, release your left side to the target and let the club come through the ball.”
Justin had a natural swing. He took to golf like a fish to water. His left-handed swing sent the ball off in gorgeous flight. “That works real well when I keep the ball back in my stance.”
“I’m glad you remembered that. Now all you need to do is swing slow and keep your head down,” Curt stressed. “The better you learn to hit the ball out here on the range, the better off you’ll be on the course.”
The boys pounded golf balls over and over and over again. “Look at that one go!” Keith yelled as he nailed one a long way.
“Just remember not to kill it,” Curt said with a watchful eye. “Remember that golf is a game of opposites. The easier you hit it, the farther it goes.”
“I can control which way the ball moves by the position of my top hand,” Justin told Curt. He’d learned that a strong grip allowed him to draw the ball while a weak grip allowed him to push it.
“Have you been practicing down here?” Curt asked.
Justin had a smirk on his face that a kitten couldn’t lick off. He tilted his head forward and looked out the top of his eyes. “Oh yeah. J Dub had us down here almost every day that you were gone. He showed me a trick or two with my hands.”
“If you’ve got that figured out, then you are light years ahead of a lot of golfers,” Curt said. The boys spent another thirty minutes hitting balls under his watchful eye. “Let’s wrap it up today. Both of you did well. It’s coming along just fine for you.”
Justin put his clubs in the back of the John Deere and went over to give Curt another hug. It was a sweet moment, full of melancholy and remembrance of the bond they shared. “We missed having you around the last week and a half.”
“Thanks, little buddy. There’s just not a lot of gas in my tank right now. I’m tired. We need to get back to the clubhouse so that I can rest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Tina stopped by the golf course later that day to pick the boys up. Curt was still napping in the easy chair and everyone thought that it would be better to let him continue sleeping. There would be future days when Tina could sit and visit with Curt. She was glad that he was out of the hospital and feeling better. It was a gift from heaven that he had returned to the clubhouse that quickly.
“We have to hurry tonight,” Tina told Justin as they piled into her SUV. “We have to get to that game on time. It looks like they’re going to need you to fill in.”
“Aw, Mom, do I have to?” Justin complained. “They don’t want me to play. They stick me in right field and never give me a chance.”
“But they need you to fill in. They’re short on players tonight,” Tina responded. “We’ll drop Keith off and head for the park. I’ve got your uniform in the back.”
&n
bsp; Dave’s son Ryan was the star player for the Falcons, a team in the pee wee division of one of the youth leagues around St. Louis. Dave never missed watching a game that his son played in. Justin didn’t care for playing baseball in the summer months, even though he liked the game. However, he had been recruited to fill-in when some of the other players couldn’t show up. “What a fun night this ought to be,” Justin said sarcastically, “we’re going to get a chance to listen about how great Ryan is.”
Ryan was a sore spot for Justin and Eric. Before Dave, they were the only apples of Tina’s eye, but after she and Dave got married, it seemed like the two brothers couldn’t do anything right and Dave’s son was the shining star. “Be a good sport tonight,” Tina urged. “You’ll be able to go back to the golf course tomorrow.”
After dropping Keith off at his home Tina hurried the SUV over to the baseball field. Justin changed his clothes in the back as she was driving. “If you want to watch me, then I’ll be the one sitting at the end of the bench,” Justin said as he grabbed his glove and sauntered over to join the team. The game had already started and Justin was the tenth man on the team. He would ride the bench until sometime in the late innings when another player might be needed.
Tina joined Dave in the stands. He had picked up Ryan and had gotten to the park thirty minutes earlier in time for the start of the game. “How’s Ryan doing?” Tina asked.
“He battled the pitcher real good during his first at-bat. He hit three foul balls before he grounded out,” Dave remarked. It sounded as if he was proud of the hits that found their way to the wrong side of the baseline.
“Is he pitching tonight?” Tina asked.
“Yeah, but I told the coach to watch his pitch count. We don’t want him to throw his arm out,” Dave explained.
As youth league games go, the game was well played. It wound down to the last inning and Justin went into the game in the final inning to stand in right field. He knew what his role would be and had predicted it before Tina had pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot. The Falcons trailed the rival team by a run going into the last half of the final inning. Ryan made an out in the inning. He finished the night with one hit in four at-bats.
Justin came to bat with an opportunity to knock in the winning run. He had a little bit of an advantage because he batted left-handed. Most of the kids in the youth league batted from the right side of the plate, so when a pitcher had to throw to a batter on the left side of the plate it provided for an interesting challenge. Justin got into the batter’s box and set up the way he was being taught at the driving range. He squared his feet and made sure that all of his body parts were on the correct swing plane. When the moment came, Justin unleashed his swing the way Curt had taught him, and knocked a hit to right field to drive in the tying and winning runs. He delivered in the clutch on his only chance. His teammates ran onto the field and mobbed him.
As Dave and Tina and Ryan and Justin were walking back to the cars Dave turned to Ryan and said, “You pitched a great game tonight, son. Even though you only got one hit, you hit some foul balls real hard.”
“Thanks, Dad. We needed this game,” Ryan said as he accepted the accolades, “but it was Justin that won the game for us.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Did you see the defense that they were playing? Anybody could have gotten a hit in that situation,” Dave said.
Justin’s eyes shifted to his mother as she took his hand. “Oh, Dave,” Tina said to her husband. But the damage had been done; nothing that Justin could do would appease Dave.
“Well, it’s true. He was the worst player on our team and the defense was shifted to the opposite field, not thinking that he could pull the ball. It was luck,” Dave continued.
The comment cut; they always did. The joy of winning, his teammates’ congratulations, and the confidence he felt in his swing all had turned to disappointment. “Dave, cut it out!” Tina screamed.
“I’m not the one that spent time in jail this summer,” Dave persevered.
Tina put her arm around Justin’s shoulders. “Let’s go, Honey. We can stop and get something to eat on the way home.” They got into her SUV.
“Where are you going to stop?” Dave asked.
“None of your business. We’ll see you at home,” Tina shouted. She started the SUV and squealed off of the lot.
Justin sat in the front seat close to tears. “He’s a jerk.”
Tina reached over and placed her hand on his knee. “It’s alright, Honey. I don’t know why he gets like that.”
“I know why,” Justin countered. “He hates me and doesn’t think that I am nearly as perfect as Ryan.” Tina felt saddened that at least a part of Justin’s observation was true and probably always would be. Her idea of having an ideal family situation had been deteriorating. “I don’t even like to be around Dave anymore; I’d much rather be around Curt.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Curt had gotten a referral from Dr. Mason and was instructed to call the cancer center, specifically the office of Dr. Charlie Lincke. Curt made an appointment, and a few days later followed a nurse down a corridor and into a private room. He sat in solitude as he waited for Dr. Lincke to appear. A myriad of emotions raced through his head as he wondered what the doctor was going to say.
After a few minutes Dr. Lincke entered the room. He was the Chief of Oncology at Holy Trinity Hospital as well as director of the cancer center. Curt was impressed with Dr. Mason’s referral. He immediately thought that the doctor had to be sitting on some sort of gold mine, and wondered, with all the people waiting to get in, if it was too late for a job for him in the health care industry.
Dr. Lincke only stood about five foot nine. His toupee suggested that he might be trying to look younger than his early-sixties appearance. He had immersed himself in Curt’s file. “We want to guard against any cancer cells that may have gotten away from the main tumor and into your bloodstream.”
“I thought everyone agreed that the entire tumor was taken out.”
“We do, but it was in an area that is susceptible to the blood stream and the type of cancer that was diagnosed tends to be very aggressive,” explained Dr. Lincke.
“So, what do you have planned?”
“The treatment for you is totally elective. We can’t force you to take chemotherapy in this situation,” Dr. Lincke said.
“I don’t know. My first impulse is to take my chances,” Curt said.
A disappointed look covered the doctor’s face. “You’re free to choose how you wish, but I wouldn’t advise taking chances. We really don’t have enough statistics to guarantee or suggest some sort of success rate. You’re what we call a ‘tweener.’ Chemotherapy treatment is not mandatory for you. If you elect to take it, then your chances of a long life increase.”
“What are my odds of a good recovery?”
“Seventy-five to eighty percent I’d say, as things sit right now.”
“And if I choose to go ahead with the chemotherapy treatments, what are we looking at as far as how the treatments will occur?” Curt said searching for a better understanding of the entire process.
“We’ll have you here for two hours or so. You’ll be administered two drugs during that time and then we’ll hook you up to a portable pump to administer a third drug. That will allow you to go home,” Dr. Lincke explained.
“How long will I have to wear that?”
“Two days,” Dr. Lincke replied.
“Then I’ll come back in to get unhooked?”
“No. We’ll have a nurse come to your home to disconnect you.”
“I don’t know. I need to think about some things,” Curt said pondering his options. He was sick and tired of IV’s and needles and tubes and monitors.
“I understand. Talk it over with your loved ones. In your situation the treatments are totally elective,” the doctor reminded him.
“I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought that they had cut it all out.”
“In s
ome aspects they did get it all, but the chemotherapy allows us to treat the cancer on a microscopic level. If the cancer comes back, then a tumor will be about an inch or so long before we’ll be able to detect it on an MRI or CT scan,” Dr. Lincke explained. “Regardless of whether or not you elect to take chemotherapy treatments, if a tumor sets up in a different organ then it may be too late for us to do anything. As an example, we got it out of your colon. We may not be able to do the same if it is in your kidney, liver, or pancreas or, for that matter, any different organ in your body.”
“Let me go home and think about some things,” Curt said.
“Give us a call back. But hurry with your decision. We don’t want to waste any time. Plus, it’s probably not a bad idea to improve your chances of a full recovery.” Dr. Lincke paused and looked squarely at Curt. “There’s a saying that I’ve heard many times.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t mess with the ‘C’ word.”
CHAPTER FORTY
In the days that followed Curt would arrive at the golf course when he felt like it. Justin and Keith continued to show up at daybreak and J Dub would put them through their exercise program around the lake and get them going on the odd jobs around the course. The situation wasn’t idyllic, but it afforded the boys an opportunity to have a varied schedule on the different days of the week. The running still served as a sort of punishment for their petty vandalism, but there were a lot of worse things they could have been doing to receive a paycheck.
When Curt got to the course, he normally moved around tentatively. The stitches still caused a little discomfort and his energy level waned. He found himself lying down in the easy chair two to three times a day and catching a few winks whenever he could. Dr. Mason wanted him to move around, but stay cautious about what he could do and couldn’t do. The last thing that the doctor wanted was for him to aggravate the area where the surgery occurred. That would set the recovery process back several weeks.