Chapter 8. If You’re Not Keeping Score, What Even Is the Point? #2
I was quiet as we headed to the fourth hole. He obviously still had feelings for his ex, even if he claimed to have moved on. No wonder he wanted me to show up at the weddings with him.
The family of five was already finishing their turn, so we did ours quickly, whizzing through the fourth and the fifth holes as silence stretched between us. Rob was the first one to speak as we waited for our turn at the next one.
“My dad is offering me full control of his firm once he retires. With the caveat that I finish my degree.” His laugh sounded bitter. “He said it’s my final chance to make something useful out of my life, before it’s too late.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I haven’t said yes. Maybe he’s right. I could probably be doing more with my life.
What if this is my last chance to finally make something out of myself?
Live up to my so-called potential?” Rob blew out a long breath.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love building houses, working with my hands, and constructing something out of nothing.
Taking people’s plans, dreams, and visions, and making them all come to life.
Seeing the thrill on their faces when they see their new houses for the first time, it makes all the hard work worthwhile.
But I also feel like I need to make it up to my dad.
Make him finally be proud of me. I mean, let’s face it.
I’m not”—he made a vague gesture with his hand—“making a difference in the world. I don’t change people’s lives by working in science or showcasing underrepresented voices in sports, like my siblings. I’m just … a builder.”
He fell quiet as he stepped up for his turn.
“But you’re making a difference in your own way.
Don’t waste your life doing something other people want for you, because you’ll never be happy.
Take it from me.” I pointed at myself. “My grandparents had encouraged me to go into accounting, because accountants are always in demand. They weren’t pushy about it, and I knew they were only looking out for me.
But I’ve never enjoyed it, so after I graduated, I only spent a year working in that field, before deciding I’d had enough. ”
“Is that why you change jobs so often?” Rob tapped his golf ball, and we watched its trajectory as it went over a bridge before rolling down the slope toward the sixth hole.
“It’s a long story.”
“I just rambled about my life to you. The least you can do is tell me about yours.”
“It all came back to my ex.” I took a deep breath. “I met Leo my senior year of high school, and I thought he was The One. When we both got accepted into a college across the country, I didn’t hesitate to leave home to be with him.”
A group of golfers shuffled into the spot behind us, so I stepped up and took my shot. Then we walked toward the seventh hole and waited for the young family to finish their turn.
“When he proposed, it was like all the painful years I’d spent trying to balance cash flow statements were worth it, because I’d get to spend the rest of my life with him.
I thought I’d get to have what my grandparents had: a lifetime full of love, laughter, and happiness.
Until one day, when he suddenly decided I wasn’t good enough for an up-and-coming, hotshot corporate lawyer like him. ”
“No. He’s the one that’s not good enough for you. He has BDE, remember?”
“I remember.” I chuckled. “But that’s how my job-hopping started.
I just wanted to distance myself as much as possible from anything that reminded me of him.
My old job, my old neighborhood, the city we went to college in.
And I figured, if I couldn’t trust the man I was supposed to share the rest of my life with, what hope did I have trusting some faceless corporate honcho whose sole purpose was to make record-breaking profits?
They were only going to screw me over anyway, so I’d go before they could. ”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that with him.”
“It’s in the past. I’ve moved on. But my point is, you should work with your dad only because you want to. You’ve accomplished so much on your own, and you should be proud of that. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
His smile held a tiny bit of sadness in it, and it suddenly made me feel oddly protective of him.
I wasn’t used to seeing that look on his face, because the Rob I knew was always cheerful, confident, seemingly without a care in the world.
Someone who, I had initially thought, was an older version of a frat boy who only cared about himself.
And I was slowly learning that I’d been completely, totally, way off the mark.
“What about the house flip you’re doing with Alec? Why isn’t he impressed with that?”
“He thinks we’re wasting our time, because he says the residential property market is going through a slump now and prices are overinflated, so we won’t be able to sell the property at a profit.
” He blew out a long breath. “Alec disagrees. We’ve done all the numbers, and he’s confident we can sell it at a good price.
But what if my dad’s right? Then we will have wasted our time and money for nothing.
It will only solidify his opinion that I’m not doing anything worthwhile with my life. ”
An idea began to form in my mind. “How long until you finish the renovations?”
“We’re almost done. Maybe one week at the most. Why?”
“I can help you,” I said, my tone rising with excitement, because the idea was cementing itself onto the walls of my brain and refusing to budge.
“Remember I told you I worked as a property stylist once? It was one of the most fun jobs I’d ever done.
I got paid to ogle pretty Pinterest boards, rent gorgeous pieces of furniture, and style a house like it was my dream home.
Wait, I’ve got pictures to prove it.” Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I waded through the thousands of photos in my camera roll—the ones I’d been meaning to sort through for ages—and when I found the ones I was looking for, thrust the phone into his hand with a gleeful grin.
I took my turn as he scrolled through the pictures, and because he was still looking through them when I was done, I grabbed his putter and finished his turn for him.
“Took me six strokes to do yours, sorry.” I handed the putter back to him.
“Whatever. I’ll still win.” He returned my phone as we headed toward the eighth hole. “You’ve obviously got a knack for it. They look great. Very professional.”
“Right? Styled homes are likely to sell faster, because potential buyers can visualize themselves being in that space. There’s research showing that staged properties boost sale prices by at least five percent.
But hiring a professional to stage a home can cost you a few thousand dollars,” I said.
“You’re doing so much for me, so the least I can do is help you sell the house you’re flipping.
It’ll save you some money, and all you need to pay for is the cost of renting the furniture.
I’ll even take professional shots of the house for you, because online photos of the staged home would attract more potential buyers to view the house in person. ”
“You really would do that for me?”
“I would. Because your father needs to be taken down a peg or ten.”
Rob looked thoughtful as he took his shot, sending the golf ball cleanly into the hole.
“Okay.” He finally nodded. “The sooner we can sell the house, the sooner we can recoup our investment. And I can prove to him that I’m doing something useful with my life.”
“Great. I promise I won’t let you down.”
We were both quiet as we waited at the start of the ninth hole.
The final hole took longer, because our golf balls had to zip through an underground tunnel before being sucked into a long PVC pipe and flung into a huge metal tub near the entrance.
Rob was smiling to himself as we listened to the young kids begging their parents for another round.
The past hour had truly opened my eyes to this man standing next to me.
Underneath his easygoing confidence, there was a loud insecurity that told him he wasn’t good enough.
It was heartbreaking to see, especially because I’d always had nothing but love and support from my grandparents.
To hear how his dad had been belittling him most of his life was sad and infuriating, so I’d now made it my own personal agenda to do everything I could to help him realize that he was worthwhile, no matter what his obnoxious dad might say about it.
“You’re up.” Rob nodded at me when the family of five moved on.
I pushed away my thoughts and lined up my shot. “Are we still keeping score?”
“Yep. I’m winning, aren’t I?”
I swung my club, sending the ball cleanly into the final hole. “No way. I scored more hole in ones than you, and I took six strokes to do your turn. I’m winning.”
There was a long pause, and when I glanced at him, he was watching me with a big grin.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You know I am.”
“Fine, you are.” Rob chuckled. “Honestly, I’d love to see you kick Ben’s ass if you played golf with him on your date.”
“He might be secretly a pro at mini golf, for all I know. He’d probably kick my ass.”
“Doesn’t matter whose ass got kicked. As long as he falls head over heels in love with you, that’s all that matters. And then my job here will be done.”
He was right. Once I managed to prove to the lawyers that I had met Oma’s requirement, I wouldn’t need his help anymore.
Which should be a good thing.
Right?