The Nine Lessons by Kevin Alan Milne

Author:Kevin Alan Milne [MILNE, KEVIN ALAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9781599952185
Publisher: Center Street
Published: 2009-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

If your opponent is playing several shots in vain attempts to extricate himself from a bunker, do not stand near him and audibly count his strokes. It would be justifiable homicide if he wound up his pitiable exhibition by applying his niblick to your head.

—Harry Vardon

When the morning of my September golf lesson rolled around I awoke with a hint of anticipation for whatever new insights awaited me on the links. Against all of my initial expectations and preconceptions, playing golf with my father was actually becoming, dare I say, enjoyable. I woke up earlier than normal, hoping to beat London to the course so I could get in some warm-ups for a change. Erin was still asleep when I rolled out of bed, and I decided it was probably better that she remain sleeping if I wanted to get out the door early.

For reasons I didn’t fully understand, Erin seemed to be growing resistant to my taking time away to play golf. During the past week she’d dropped several hints that she wanted me to spend my Saturdays with her, getting the house ready for the baby, rather than “roaming around in the weeds” with London. I chalked her sudden opposition up to lack of understanding on her part—if she knew the things that London was trying to teach me, she’d probably be thrilled that I was spending one day each month hitting balls with the man. But I still wasn’t ready to share that information, and until I was it seemed wise for me to avoid confrontation. If that meant creeping out of bed and sneaking out of the house before she awoke, that was fine with me.

I tiptoed quietly across the room and crept into the hallway. With the coast clear I found some fresh clothes in the dryer, scarfed down a piece of toast, and was just heading into the garage to grab my clubs when Erin’s voice disturbed the silence.

“Honey,” she called. “Are you up?”

My wife is a very intelligent woman, so she must have known that I was up without even asking the question. I wasn’t in bed next to her as she yelled at me from our bedroom on the other end of the house, so where else could I be but “up”? I knew right away that her question was just a prelude to some other matter that she wanted to discuss, but I had no intention of delving into tangents at the moment, so I played dumb. “Uh, yeah, Schatzi, I’m up.”

“Well what are you up to?”

Again, this was a question that she already knew the answer to. I had personally watched her write down “August—Golf” in her day planner just two days earlier. I answered her question, but with as few details as possible. “Going to the garage,” I called back.

“For what?”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I mouthed silently, wanting to scream the words but knowing that doing so would spoil my trip to the golf course. I considered

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