Chapter Six (6)

Author’s Note:

So you’ve met Joe in Chapter eight, and Frank was mentioned. Here, you meet his longtime friend, Frank. They’re playing golf, which always leads to good conversation.

But they’re working off an “incident” that began in Chapter Two, and continued in Chapter Four, back in Joe’s apartment. Joe is supposed to be working today, but he’s playing hooky...

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The only thing better than a pretty day on the golf course is one where you’re supposed to be working and your boss will never find out. Hopefully.

"How you gonna be sure you get away with this?", inquired Frank after they’d finished up the first green. There had been little personal conversation since they had left the apartment this morning. Whether it was the early A.M. heart-to-heart or the leftovers from last night was hard to tell.

Judging from the tone of the few words that were spoken, as well as the history of these two friends, feelings between the two seemed on track. Like most guys, these men waited little time to vent any resentments they may need to air. Fist fights before grudges would not be their motto.

Joe had gotten dressed and gone into the office first thing, but met Frank before the dew dried on the fairways.

"Remember Chris Scott?"

Frank climbed out of the cart upon its being parked. He reached in his bag for a tee. "High school?"

"Yup. Good memory. Couple of years behind us. He buys for Interstate Electronics. He said he’d vouch for me if Troy checked up on me. I’ll be fine. Let’s enjoy ourselves."

"Good. Good. Let’s do that."

They teed off. Joe out-drove Frank by at least 35 yards, as was the norm. Frank’s pitching game was better; their competition usually hinged on the putting.

"What kind of boss is Troy?"

"He’s alright. Not too bad. Kind of hard to judge him because I short-sheet him so much. I’d be pissed at me if I were him, so I guess all in all he’s been pretty fair to me."

"He yells a lot, right?"

They arrived at Frank’s ball. Joe continued to chat, right up through Frank’s warm-up.

"He yells at most of the office a lot. He doesn’t yell but so often at me, but mostly it’s just letting off steam. I just don’t listen. It doesn’t bother me."

Frank hit. His second shot was almost pin high, but wide of a trap, leaving him with a tough approach. They moved on to Joe’s tee shot.

"Do you ever think about working for yourself, getting away from yelling bosses and somebody else’s schedule?"

Joe nailed the green, ten feet from the pin. Birdie time.

"This isn’t a sales pitch, I know. You know what …"

Frank waved his hand while blushing. "No, no, no, no … NO! I know how you feel about that. You aren’t into what I do and I know that. I understand.

"No, this is about you taking control. Getting out of someone else’s shadow. There’s a lot of things you can do."

Joe chuckled. "Like what?"

"Lots of things. What I do is not for everybody. Multi-level marketing makes a lot of people uncomfortable. You would do well as a manufacturer’s rep, or maybe something out of sales."

The cart was stopped and the crunch of the parking break shattered the calm of the woods. Not too many on the course this Friday morn, with it being slightly brisk. They retrieved their putters and Frank added his wedge.

"I like sales. I like the interaction. You know me … people … people … people," shared Joe.

"Yeah, but Joe, you can be a people person and NOT be in sales. You’d do well in public relations, or marketing administration and some other stuff."

"Yeah, maybe." Joe sank the birdie and left that aspect of the conversation altogether. He saw no hope in career discussions. Don’t let him get started in that pyramid crap, Joe thought.

They played several holes without any heavy talk. Frank made up a stroke on a par five. They agreed that, in a way, it was kind of good that neither Brian nor Doug could make it today. Joe and Frank were the two who’s history go back to "short pants days" and they were the two who spent the most amount of time together in high school. Although their post-high school days didn’t always find them keeping close tabs, the two were usually able to touch base pretty quickly, even if they hadn’t seen each other in awhile.

Today’s discussion built on last night’s and this morning’s words, left no scars, at least any permanent. They’d had rough words in the past. These, however, came at a time when both of themwere a little more vulnerable.

The twosome played out the front nine without event, and stopped in for a few more beers in their cooler and a couple of sandwiches. Because of some noontime back-nine start-ups, they couldn’t start number 10 right away. They sat on the tee bench, eating their roast beef subs.

"Joe, let me ask you a personal question, a serious one, okay?"

"Oh gawd . . ."

"No, really. I mean this. This isn’t left over from this morning or anything. I’ve never asked you. I want to know.

"What happened to you and Karen?"

Joe had—at some point—expected the question some day and Frank was right; they hadn’t talked about it.

"It wasn’t any one thing. It wasn’t any single issue. It was a deterioration of things."

"Well thanks for that discovery, Mr. Columbus. I could’ve guessed that. But, I’m wondering—no bunk, this is your buddy here—where did you guys break down?"

You son of a bitch. Why should I tell you? I’m not confidently sure I know myself.

"I knew things were deteriorating—and deteriorated—for a couple of years. We started arguing after Angie was born, and it seemed there were always a couple of topics that we’d never have peace over. And then …"

Frank interrupted abruptly. "Like what?"

"What did we argue about? Hell, sometimes everything." Frank stared off down the fairway, secretly wishing the two groups in front of him would hurry up through their first shots.

"I don’t know, time … money … her family. For everything that we were good together with, it seems there’d be two things we didn’t see eye-to-eye on. You know, just man and woman stuff."

"Like what, man?"

"Frank, you’ve been divorced once. Why are you asking me this stuff? You thinking about going for number two?"

There was a pause that meant more than tough thinking. Frank didn’t respond, but not because Joe’s question made him think. He’d obviously done quite a bit of thinking, and given the morning’s exchange, Frank seemed to be sensing that moment when he could lay bare his confusion to his oldest friend.

"Anything’s possible. But I never really understood all the emotions Marcia had, and I didn’t see it coming, so I thought I’d have a better chance with Julie."

"Do you?"

"Who knows. It’s like she’s a different person than when we were dating."

"She is, Frank. She’s not dating a married man, anymore." Joe hung that one out there with pleasure. "Is she?"  That Joe Moment was for humorous pain.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. But as you can imagine, I thought things we said together then would carry over into the marriage and it hasn’t. So I ask you as much for ME as I do to understand YOU. We’ve never really talked about it, and you did make plenty of mention this morning about our communicating. So break it down for me, pal   ."

"Alright, alright. That’s fair. I guess. What happened?" Joe paused with a spot of pensive hesitancy.

"Before I get into that, you need to know I never saw her . . . asking for a divorce coming. Never. I knew we had problems. I knew I was a knucklehead sometimes and I know I coulda been in the house more working on Angie’s homework more, but I had no idea she was ready to split.

"What happened? Damn … I guess I never grew up. You know? When we were dating, hell … I was living weekend to weekend. I’d make just enough money for us to go out partying on the weekend. I never cared too much about a great car or super nice clothes, so I saved nothing and had nothing to show for it. You were still here then, man. You remember that."

"Yeah, that was a lot of fun. We just went out all the time." Frank spoke only to give Joe a breath.

"Exactly. But she and I started sleeping together and I don’t know if she got careless or stupid, but one spring day, it’s like BOOM!

"We’re gonna have a baby. Your move. What’s your play?"

"You think she trapped you?" Mr. Tact plunges ahead.

"Trapped me? Nah. She put up with way too much from her family for her to have made that calculated a choice. I DO think she had every intention of marrying me and never looked beyond that option. So she wasn’t too upset about our getting to the altar that way, because we got to the altar. You know? She got what she wanted, I guess."

"And you too, right?"

"Yeah. Me too. I wanted to marry her and I loved her. I’m an old softie and an ole romantic and all that stuff, but Man! We were having fun and so much of it. Then all of a sudden … ‘Grow up Boy! Time to get serious’.

"I don’t know if I was ready for that! I was only 24. I wanted to play some more. Make it to a Super Bowl. See the Kentucky Derby. Go to a couple of Major League games. You know? Get it outta my system."

"Is that all you wanted to get outta your system, Joe?"

"You mean other women? Nah, Frank. I leave all that beaver hunting for you, sport."

"You never cheated on Karen?" Frank’s heart was now beating faster.

"Never." Emphatically.

"Never hit on anybody? Never cast a curious eye? Never, on some sales call somewhere … never had a racy conversation with some waitress or somebody?"

"Never, Frank. I told you. I don’t do that. Never would."

"Why?" Frank sniffed heavily with his first two fingers well up and into his nostrils.

"Why wouldn’t I cheat on Karen? Because, man! I could never face her after I did that."

The foursome pulled away to hit their number two shots, giving Frank and Joe time to let that comment sink in as they threw away sandwich dregs and located tee and ball. Joe never stopped thinking about the topic.

"I could never even cheat on Karen when we were dating. She was my woman then, not really that different from when I was married. It’s about what’s right, I guess. And besides …"

Frank interrupted before that last sentence. "What’s right?". Then, after he heard Joe, he inquired "Besides what?"

"Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if I did. And I couldn’t be comfortable with any woman I’d cheated with, and I couldn't be comfortable with me."

Frank’s expertise in this area needed to be shared. "You know, Joe, the passion is unbelievable, because you’re both heated up by doing something you’re not supposed to."

"Exactly".

"Exactly right. It’s fantastic! It’s like being on fire. It’s animalistic."

"Exactly. Good word choice."

"Hey, don’t knock it."

Here’s where I can switch the afternoon around, Joe thought. I bring up the slut concept again and we’ve got a cold afternoon. I make a joke or play this off a little bit and we enjoy the back nine and the rest of his visit. Joe turned his shoulders to square up with his friend.

"I can’t knock it because I can’t do it. "I couldn’t handle the dismount-factor." Joe shifted the gears.

"The dismount factor?"

"The Dismount Factor. Don’t sell it short." Joe turned back away.

"What—pray tell—is the dismount factor?" Frank was able to ask that even as he drew back his backswing. His 220-yard drive suffered little because of it.

"The dismount factor … that period of time when you’ve done your business and maybe she has, maybe she hasn’t . . .  but either way, you guys have stopped moving.

"You’re exhausted, breathing hard, maybe even sweating. There are bodily fluids to be dealt with. But before that …"

"This is where the dismount factor comes in, isn’t it?"

Joe drives his golf ball, pulling it a little too far to the left, into the rough.

"Exactly. This is where you have to remove body parts and roll off of her. It’s an awkward moment. A realization of what just happened. That pregnant pause—bad word choice—where you two actually have to talk."

"No you don’t!"

"I’m sure you don’t. But gentlemen do."

"So you say something nice … ‘you’re beautiful’, or ‘you’re amazing’, or you try some humor ‘you’ve done this before?’. But you don’t get all wrapped up tight as a drum, you dumb ass!?"

"I’m the dumb ass? You wanna try to guess what I come back with there, old buddy?"

"No, I can guess. That’s alright." Frank smiled and held his hands up in show of surrender. "The dismount factor? You’ve put a lot of thought into this, eh?"

"Not a lot of thought. Just some projected feelings. I could never be comfortable with it, and I’m not interested in getting so used to it that I don’t worry about it, no offense. Not when I was married.

"That whole act is not that damned important to be making those kind of conflicts real." Joe seemed to be embarrassed to take the stand of the straight-and-narrow.

"That whole act? You don’t like sex?"

"I LOVE sex. Just not willing to pay ANY price for it. Not for that."

"It’s not that high a price. Not for that marvelous a reward!"

"Sez you". That was exactly right, but it was also the last on the matter, at least at that level.

And so they finished out the hole, and then the next and two more. They traded stories about sex and a few about fantasies. Joe related some of his marital concerns, even speaking to how their sex life dwindled and twisted in the wind. Frank spoke proudly about some of his conquests. By hole 14, they still hadn’t shared specifics on the breakdown of the Joe and Karen story.

"I pictured you guys rocking in chairs in a nursing home somewhere, Joe. I was floored when I heard about you two."

"Hit me pretty hard too, old man. Pretty damnhard."

"What would you do differently?"

"I don’t try to dwell on that, Frank. It was hard enough getting to this point. If I start second guessing all those fights, I’m gonna get depressed."

And Frank, as if possessed by a demon spirit, responds "You already are."

Yet he continues? Joe again paused to leave his stewing process for later.

"What were the fights about, Joe?"

Pushing through his initial responses, Joe decides to continue, if for nothing else, his own piece of mind.

"Money. Time. Money and time. How I spent both."

"Time?"

"Yeah, time might have been the worst focal point of fights. She wanted to do this, I wanted to that, I did that … she claims she did nothing. She did something: she stayed home pissed off.

"But I’d want to go to a game, or play golf or visit some friends, and she’d have a problem with that. She said we didn’t do anything together, but we could never agree on something we both wanted to do. Not after we got married." Joe was staring at his golf club grip.

"I was working long hours and wanted my time to relax. She suggested I could relax at home. She seems to forget that both of the girls were colicky until 18 months. No one could relax at home."

"And you had NO inkling that the divorce was coming. She never threatened or warned you?"

"Nope. The first time I heard that word was when she asked for one. A few years earlier she mentioned we ought to go to counseling together, but I didn’t want to pay some guy $75 an hour to tell me I need to get in touch with my feminine side. And I guess I never saw the severity of her plea.

"Our sex life headed south, and I guess that was some indication. It didn’t help when I pointed that out, but you know … a guy knows what he … you know."

"Yep". Frank held his tongue, without re-quoting the tenth tee dialogue.

"But, no. I had no idea that a woman whom I’d known for 15 years would make a no-turn-around-this-is-it decision like that."

"What’d you do?"

"For awhile I lived in complete shock. I thought THIS was the warning. I thought THIS was the threat. But moving furniture out of my house and into an apartment was my eye opener. Seeing my kids only on weekends and Thursdays woke me up a bit, too.

"I am fortunate that she was pretty good about that, and that we’ve not fought too much since we broke up. That’s been good. As good as it gets, I guess.

"But, the papers to sign came and we hadn’t talked. I guess I thought she was gonna say something, and all of a sudden—it seemed—the day was here, and the divorce final.

"It was only then that I realized she wasn’t putzing around. I was divorced."

They hadn’t swung a club or pursued their next shot during all of this soliloquy. Frank watched Joe with both hands on the top of his club. Joe stared at the ground as he spoke. It might have been the first time he’d faced the gut wrenching fact that perhaps things would have been different if he’d approached Karen during the trial period and asked her for one more chance.

Perhaps not.

But either way, it was gone. And here was Joe—living out the life he was tossed out of the house for. Last night: wildness and a great band. Today: skip work and play golf with a high school chum.

What a life.

And Frank . . . well Frank checked his pocket to confirm that his 1/2 gram of methamphetamine and a lesser amount of cocaine were still in place.

And he wondered if his plan to distract Joe mentally would pay off for their golf bet . . .

Photo by Peter Drew on Unsplash