The Seventh at Pebble

I wasn't sure what to say. "Greatest night of my life, Katie. No regrets. You ever get a boo-boo on your lips again, you just let me know."

It was a happy moment. For me at least I'm sure. We joked and kidded around some more. We even jumped into one of the bunkers and made snow angels (sorry, sand angels!) while we were still naked.

"We better head on back. I think you suggested that about an hour ago", Katie finally said, brushing sand off her lovely bod. "I'm gonna be a bit disheveled, but I don't care! I think you ripped every button off this blouse. Nicely done!"

"Don't forget your panties."

"Awww, heck, let's just leave 'em there. It'll give the grounds crew something to talk about in the morning. And don't rake the bunker, either!"

We held hands as we made our way back to the Lodge. I stopped a few times to kiss Katie, and she happily kissed me back. But as we got closer and closer to the Lodge I got the sense Katie wanted to get back there quickly. Maybe for another round I hoped.

As we got to the lobby I looked at Katie and in my goofiest voice possible said, "Well, my dear, your place or mine?"

Katie smiled and gently patted her hand on my chest. "You know, we do have an early tee time tomorrow."

"Yeah, we do." I paused. Kinda disappointed. Kinda really disappointed. At that moment I knew I'd just made love to Katie for the first and last time. She was right. We needn't push any further than it already went. One of us would get hurt. That didn't make me feel any better right then, however. "Good night, Katie." I gave her a kiss. "You head on up to your room, I'll go to mine in a little bit."

She smiled back at me. "You know, Katie", I continued, "You know how much this night meant to me."

"I do." She bit her lower lip again. "It meant a lot to me, too, you know that." As I said, I was one of the lucky ones who got glimpses of Katie vulnerability. But even I'd only see so much, and I understood that. My head did at least.

I watched as she went back to her room, feeling myself ache for her. What was that line Nicholson said in Something's Gotta Give: "Guess who gets to be the girl"? Or at least something like that.

I think I sat in that lobby for hours before I made my way back to my room.

The next morning I was exhausted. Kinda quiet at breakfast, too. It also looked like the weather was taking a turn for the worse. I tried to put on a happy face when Katie's Dad asked me, "You all right, Steve?"

"Yeah, sure, ready to go play. Little tired, though."

"Yeah, great dinner last night though, good we didn't stay out too late."

"Right about that."

"You sure you're OK, Steve?" Katie's Dad looked right at me. He looked like he knew what happened though I'm quite sure he didn't. I didn't see a shotgun anywhere. Actually, I think he would have been less than completely OK regarding my encounter with Katie, but, well, not ready to come across the table and wring my neck, either. He might not have even been surprised.

"Maybe a little melancholy. It's been kinda lonely lately, and well…" My voice trailed off. I told myself to shut the fuck up before I confessed. I was starting to feel a little pissed, and then I was pissed that I was pissed. "Hey don't mind me. Don't let my little pity party spoil this great weekend. You know, I can't thank you enough…"

"Stop thanking me. God, I'm just glad we finally got to do this, what with Little Miss You Know Who and her busy schedule. Speak of the devil…"

Katie came on down as her Dad and I were finishing up. She'd already been up for an hour and a half, had gone for a jog, showered, and was good to go. Gorgeous and well put-together, of course, as always. Her armor. She grabbed a banana and a bottle of water from the buffet.

"Morning, honey", her Dad said to her. She leaned down and gave him a peck on the top of his head and squeezed him from behind, in the unlikely event he had become the least bit unwrapped from her little finger, a spot he'd occupied for some 20 years. "Seems we got a party pooper in our midst. Said he was 'melancholy'". Seems someone had recently taught him the universal quote-unquote finger flick.

"Who's that?" Her Dad nodded toward me. "HIM?" She looked at me in mock horror, then walked around and whacked the back of my head. "C'mon Shit for Brains, we got some golf to play. I don't think we came here to be 'melancholy'".

Dr. Phucking Phil couldn't have said it better.

"Now why don't you two old farts come on?"

We didn't have any time to hit balls, and headed right for the first tee. The starter, who after 30 years living in Monterrey probably knew what he was talking about, told us we would see some rain fairly soon. Shit, I thought. I hate playing in the rain. But, I figured I'd suck it up.

For a couple holes, I was glad I did. I always played golf well when I felt edgy. I parred the first two holes, as did Katie and her Dad, but as we approached the third tee the skies opened up on us. I was woefully unprepared for the bad weather, and as I teed off, my club about slipped out of my hands from the rain. For the next four holes the three of us gamely played what would be the sloppiest godawfulest golf of our lives. I half expected Carl from Caddyshack to turn up and say "I don't think the heavy stuff's coming down for quite some time."

How we ever managed to scrape our way up the par 5 uphill sixth hole was beyond me. I was so completely soaked my crank was even wet. The worse it got, the funnier it got, and as I tapped in for a triple bogey 8, we were all in stitches. Somehow the rain and the horrible golf helped get me out of my little funk and back on track.

"I think we've had just about enough, don't you guys think?" I said. Right then the rain eased up just enough for Katie to say, Oh, c'mon you wuss. One more hole, let's play Number 7".

We did each have one more swing left in us. Believe it or not with my 8 from the last hole, I had the honors. I was the only one who'd actually holed out on the green. I gripped the same sand wedge I'd stuck the day before but this time I caught the ball a little thin, which scooted to the back of the green. The soggy conditions were all that kept me out of the ocean. Katie's dad hit a knock-down nine iron to about 20 feet, then Katie stuck one, again, to three feet with a deft knock-down of her own.

Her shotmaking never ceased to amaze me. I was starting to see her again for what she's always been to me: a dear friend, and one I'd always feel close to, no matter what. When her Dad was out of earshot, I leaned to Katie as we walked toward the green and said, "Nice shot, you dirty little slut."

She poked me in the ribs and laughed. "Let's see you do something with that, what is it, 80 foot putt of yours. No read from me either."

I did have at least 50 feet. The greens at Pebble weren't particularly large, but I was at the back of the green and the pin was in the front. (No sign of panties anywhere. Stuffed in some crewmembers pants, I supposed.) I lined up my putt as best as I could. Despite the soaked greens the ball was rolling pretty hot when it banged the back of the cup and dropped in. We were all pretty stunned. So stunned neither Katie nor her Dad came close to making theirs. Right in the hole I was. Just like last night, I joked to myself.

The world was clearly still out of balance. I don't ever make putts like that, but it must have been that magical seventh green.

I could have returned to my funk, wished I was 20, aw hell, 25 years younger. But my friend knew I still had it, and made sure I still knew it, too. And I believed her when she said the night before had meant a lot to her. I think that got me out of the much larger funk I never knew I'd been in. I guess that's what friends are for!

I'd cook that dinner again. Yes, it had been years. I'd start with Katie and her Dad for sure. But I was ready to start cooking it some more. Yeah, hun. Back in the game again.