Page 19 - Demo

that some of that hopeful, excited energy would
have worn off, either because of too much drinking or poor play or both. They would lounge around the clubhouse eating surf-n-turf and drinking pitchers of beer and talking about sports or money. Some
left earlier, some later, but all would look forward to doing the same thing the following week, repeating a ritual that never lost its fresh appeal. Without under- standing why, it comforted Kelly and lead him to a new courage inside himself.
“Hey, thanks for this,” he blurted out to Gil. “You know....things are not great at home. We had a fight. I...I’m thinking about leaving.”
Gil nodded. He took out a cigarette, offered one to Kelly—who didn’t smoke—and cracked another beer. “Don’t,” he said. “Play some golf. Drink. That’ll give you some perspective.” He took a long pull from the can.
“W
were both tired —tired of each other, maybe, or just tired of the whole modern life mess-up.”
“Bailey can’t stand me,” said Kelly. “She said so.” Gil listened and nodded and smoked, playing with his club as Kelly talked.
hat else could have
“And what do you want?” asked Gil.
happened? They
“I just want my son,” said Kelly, lowering his head. “I don’t care about anything else.”
Gil stuck a tee in the grass and took the cigarette out of his mouth.
“Listen. I never told you this,” he said, squinting down the fairway. “Katrina was just about Brix’s age when it happened. I went to the hardware store. Can’t remember what for. Anyway, she was in her car seat, and I set her down next to the car while I was load- ing up. What do you think happened? You know
what happened. I drove off, that’s what I fucking did. Must’ve been halfway home when Peyton calls me. Just livid. A friend of hers—Sally someone—finds Ka- trina in the parking lot. Puts the picture together. Of course, I book it back. Sally’s there waiting with the cops, and I’m just trying to get past the whole thing.”
He gave Kelly a rueful smile. “Of course, Peyton never left her alone with me again.”
Gil turned and swung hard: the ball soared up, faded left into the woods, hit a branch, and bounced clear onto the fairway. He grinned and punched the air. “It hurt at first. One screw-up, and you’re done? Didn’t seem right. But Peyton knew. I’m just not cut out for
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