He decided the night before that he was not going to play golf in the morning. It didn’t seem interesting. He would rather putter around the house, going through the motions of his life, than putt on the greens with his buddies. He would just text John that he had a scratchy throat. It’s benign enough not to warrant a thorough cross examination.
The face that met him in the mirror seemed to be his father’s unshaven face, only with dark circles beneath the eyes. Hank was lucky to have all of his hair still. It remained relatively short from the trim just before the funeral; it stuck up in all sorts of directions, like the Forsythias in the early spring, only white instead of yellow.
Today was not a shaving day. Who was he trying to impress? He hadn’t worked in years, none of the kids would visit anymore, and he wouldn’t leave the house for as long as the food in the pantry held out. Maybe he would take a shower in the afternoon, but he doubted he had the motivation.
He shuffled from the bathroom, wearing the slippers Karen bought him for Christmas only months earlier, through the living room into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine. The machine would make all the fancy coffee drinks that his grandkids might like. It had more buttons than he could ever imagine variations of coffee. He just knew that one to push to produce the cup that he enjoyed.
While the machine ground the beans and brewed his coffee, he picked up Karen’s daily devotional and turned to the daily readings. Suffering was the theme. Without reading the first verse, he tossed it across the room as if the book was mocking him. He sat in the chair Karen sat in every morning they shared together and sobbed in a way that even surprised him. He held it together during the visitation, memorial service, and the graveside internment. Maybe it had all caught up with him and burst out at once.
His coffee remained untouched under the spigot which produced it and he stared blankly out the window. Lost in his absentminded gazing, he wondered what to do about the garden this year. He hadn’t the foggiest idea of what she did each spring; he just knew that by July, it was the envy of all their friends. Karen had carefully, painstakingly laid it out in such a way as to feature every color of the rainbow, and different parts bloomed each month from late May into October. He always said that it was like a slow-motion fireworks show, which made Karen beam with pride.
He didn’t hear the car come up the drive, nor hear the car door close, but he couldn’t miss the loud rapping on the back door.
“Hank!” he heard. “I know you’re in there, you lazy son of a gun.” More pounding.
Hank wiped the tears from his cheeks, mussed his hair up even more and shuffled to the door, not even having to try to look glum. He reached for the handle while managing a subtle cough.
“Scratchy throat.” He pointed to his throat while opening the door a few inches.
John pushed all the way open and said, “Scratchy throat, my ass, get dressed and let’s go. You’re golfing today, partner. We need to redeem ourselves from last Friday.”
“John, I know you mean well, and I appreciate it. Really, I do.” Hank stood with his arms outstretched as if to say this is me right now, I’m doing the best I can. “I don’t have the energy to golf.”
John pushed him in the direction of the bedroom and said, “I’ve got enough energy for both of us. Remember, the format for today is a scramble, and I can’t get off the tee to save my life. I need your drives. Do it for me. Please?”
“Your drives are lousy, but I really would prefer to stay inside today, just until I feel a bit better.” Hank pleaded.
“I am not taking no for an answer. Get your lucky shirt on, change your pants and get in my car, I’m driving. After golf, we don’t have to go to lunch with Skip and Tom (unless we win and they’re buying). I will drive you straight back here so you can resume your sad party, for one.”
Hank took a few steps towards the closet and smirked. A sad party? Where does he come up with this stuff? “I look like hell, John. I haven’t shaved in days and I am not the freshest.”
“Who cares? We will be outside, and no one will smell you. Just throw a cap on your head and let’s go.”
“You are annoyingly persistent. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Listen, if I could hit my driver, I wouldn’t be here right now, you gotta believe me.”
“You mean, because you are too cheap to pay for golf lessons, I don’t get to grieve?” He slipped his pants on while shaking one leg. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not trying to take a cheap shot, but if Karen were here right now, what do you think she would want you to do?” Tears welled up in John’s eyes. He knew how much his friend loved his wife and how much she enjoyed her free time while he was golfing.
“She would want me gone for a few hours so that she could have the house to herself.”
“That’s right.” John smiled at his friend, held out his hand and said, “Let’s go kick some ass.”
Hank pulled his friend towards him and wrapped his arms around him, tears rolled down his cheek and he managed to wipe his nose on John’s shoulder.
John thrust him away and said, “Tell me you didn’t just wipe snot on my shoulder.”
Hank smiled and said, “I told you I had a scratchy throat.”