Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
M ercifully, Jack suggested we put away the golf clubs and grab a coffee in the clubhouse. “Before anyone gets hurt,” he said.
Returning from the counter, he set my pistachio latte down on the table in front of me then sat down. “Look, Mary.” Jack cleared his throat. “Back in high school …”
“No,” I held up my hand. I didn’t want to hear it. Things were going relatively well at the moment and I didn’t want any talk about the past to ruin it.
“I need to say this.” Jack leaned forward. “I’m really sorry for what I did that night at prom. It was stupid. It was mean. My girlfriend …”
“Ashley Griffin.” Her name lingered in my mouth like cyanide.
“Yeah. Ashley. She was jealous.”
I thought he was joking. “Ashley Griffin? Jealous?” Ashley Griffin had everything. Looks. Friends. A pearl colored Nissan Maxima for her seventeenth birthday. There was no way Ashley Griffin was jealous of anybody. Especially me. My mind flailed like a six iron sailing into a golf pond. “Why would Ashley Griffin be jealous of me?”
Jack’s face flushed, his top lip and bottom lip pressed together. “She caught me looking at you. Well, staring really.”
If the declaration that Ashley Griffin had been jealous of me was difficult to wrap my head around, the admission that Jack had been staring at me, me, was absolutely mind blowing. “Why were you staring at me?” In all those years back in high school, I was convinced that Jack Thompson didn’t even know I existed. And now to hear him say he was staring at me? WTF?
Jack shrugged. “What, you think I never noticed how you would look at me? It seemed like every time I turned around, you were there.” Fair. Jack’s eyes twinkled like diamonds. “I mean, come on, you were a cute girl. I was a teenage boy. What can I say? I was intrigued.”
I had to hold on to my chair to keep myself from falling over. Jack Thompson thought I was cute????
“Anyway, I want to apologize. Truly.” Jack looked me right in the eye. “I would do anything, Mary, anything to take it all back.”
I had to take a deep breath to give myself a moment to calm down. If I would have known back in high school what I had just found out, my entire life would have been completely different. Somehow, I gathered my wits and made my lips move. “It was twenty years ago. We’re both adults now. You’ve changed, I’ve changed.” I didn’t need the horrors of the past tainting the present. I just wanted to forget high school and move on. “What’s done is done.”
Jack’s eyes drifted over my fingers. My bare fingers. Fingers that were not wearing any rings.
“You’re still single?” His lips pressed together, his eyes like a lion stalking prey.
“I am.”
“Never settled down?”
“I don’t settle,” I said.
Jack smiled. Lion fangs peeking out between his lips. “You ever get close? To settling I mean.”
“I was serious about someone once. A long time ago. A guy I met after college. He was a nice guy. A fantastic guy, actually, but it ended badly.”
Jack took a slow sip of his drink. “What happened?”
“We just didn’t fit.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I’m not. You live and you learn, right?” I took another sip of my coffee. “What about you?” I asked. “Ever get married?”
Jack shook his head. “I was engaged, though.” He held up two fingers. “Twice. Well, three times if you count Charla.”
“Charla?”
“You know that saying, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Well, she didn’t stay.” Jack’s face made it clear he didn’t want to elaborate.
“You bought her a ring?”
Jack frowned. “I think so.”
“Well, it seems to me that if you put a ring on a woman’s finger, she should count. Even if her name is Charla.”
Jack passed me a napkin, which I used to wipe away the pistachio flavored cold foam from my chin. “So let me guess,” I said. “All these women you thought you were in love with, not a fit?”
“Something like that.” Again, Jack seemed less than eager to elaborate. Instead, he peered out the window where a Bill Murray look-alike in a yellow fedora swatted his putter across the green. Jack asked, “So if golf isn’t your game, what is? Actually no, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.”
“Okay.”
Jack contemplatively rubbed at his chin. “Full contact karate.”
“Nope.”
“Big game hunting.”
“Not that one either.”
“Ah, I got it. Cage free shark diving.”
“Aw, so close.”
Jack pushed aside his cup and leaned over the table. “Okay, you stumped me. What, Mary Burns, is your special skill?”
I twirled my spoon in my latte. “You really want to know?”
“Very much so.”
“Pickleball.”
“Pickle-what?”
“Pickleball.”
“What exactly is pickleball?”
“You’ve never played pickleball?”
“Does it involve shots of vodka and suggestively eating a pickle?”
“Wait, what?”
“If not, then never mind.”
“Pickleball is one of the fastest growing sports in the country.” I pointed to the old couple next to us. “Especially for retirees.” The old woman gave me a dirty look.
“Sounds … injury ridden.”
“Oh, it most certainly is. Very easy to break a hip.”
“And how do you play this intriguingly dangerous sport?”
“Well, it’s like a mishmash of ping-pong, badminton, and tennis.”
“So all the racket sports had an orgy?”
“Pretty much.”
“And this is something you play.”
“I don’t just play, I coach. The Casselberry Senior Center. I volunteer.”
“You’re a volunteer coach?”
“I give lessons every Tuesday.” I got an idea. “Want to learn?”
“Tuesday? That’s tomorrow.”
“So it is.”
Jack leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the tabletop. “Would I need to bring any safety gear? A helmet maybe. Hip pads?”
I looked Jack dead in the eye. “I’ve got everything you need.”
* * *
I paced the line of picklers like a drill sergeant inspecting new recruits. Dick and Mabel, the couple Janet and I played before, lined up closest to the net.
Beside them were Lewis and Lucille, whose children had stuck them in a retirement home, so this was their only chance to get out. Next was Dorothy, a retired math teacher who always kept score incorrectly.
Then came Howard, who suffered from a severe case of forgetfulness, so even though he had been coming for months, he always thought every lesson was his first.
Edna was next. Edna loved to bake, but refused to stand near the no volley zone, which in pickleball terms, we call “the kitchen”, so the group had fun teasing her about it.
And finally, last but not least, our pickleball virgin, Jack.
“Okay, paddles up,” I commanded. The group raised their paddles, except for Howard, who was watching a butterfly. I made a mental note to bring a whistle for the next class.
“Today we’re going to practice dinking, and then apply our lessons in a game.” The class stood attentively. “Who can tell me why we dink?”
Howard raised his hand. “My name is Howard.”
“Nice to meet you, Howard.” I turned back to the class. “Dinking. Purpose. Any ideas? Go.”
Edna stepped forward. “Dinking is like foreplay.”
Some days at the Senior Center were true trials of patience. I could tell this was going to be one of those days. Edna’s husband had died years ago. She confided in me once that she hadn’t had a single date since. She had later followed up with me to clarify that by date, she meant cuddle time. And then later still she had followed up again to clarify that by cuddle time, she really meant sex. I had told her I had gathered as much.
“Okay, thank you for that, Edna.” Not wanting to encourage her, I was about to explain the true purpose of the dink shot when Jack raised his hand.
“What do you mean, dinking is like foreplay?” he asked. I shot him a look and mouthed the word, No!
“It’s all about getting into rhythm,” Edna explained. “You know, toy with ‘em a little. Tickle their …”
“Okay, we get it, Edna, thank you,” I said.
Edna gave Jack a wink. As much as I tried to fight it, disturbing visions of Edna, naked, engaged in “cuddle time,” popped into my head.
To my horror, Edna continued. “You know, give ‘em a little backspin. A little topspin. Give ‘em a little somethin’ on the front side. Give ‘em a little somethin’ on the back side.”
She had the class’s complete attention. Even Harold’s.
“Then, when they least expect it, WHAM!” Edna smacked her fist in her palm. “Go in for the big shot.”
I really needed to get myself a whistle.
“Okay,” I said, raising my voice to regain everyone’s attention. “Fine. Yes. I guess. Dinking is a little like foreplay. But it’s also about patience. Biding your time. Testing. Exploring your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses.”
Lewis raised his hand. “What if you don’t have any weaknesses?”
“Lewis, everyone has weaknesses.”
“Do you have weaknesses?”
I could see Jack looking at me, a grin on his face. “This isn’t about me,” I told Lewis. It would be a shame later if he accidentally tripped over a pickleball and broke a hip.
I saw Jack with his hand raised. Good God. “Yes, Jack.” This wasn’t just a trial of patience. This was a reenactment of Dante’s journey through hell.
Jack asked, “If you really want to score, why not just take your big shot right away? Why wait?”
“That’s called banging,” I explained. “Going hard and fast.”
“Bangers hate dinking,” said Edna.
“But do dinkers hate banging?” Jack asked. I would have given my left ovary for a whistle at that point.
Dorothy raised her hand.
“Yes, Dorothy.”
“Are we still talking about pickleball?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think.”
Howard raised his hand. “My name is Howard.”
I smacked my head with my palm. After taking a deep breath, I said, “Let’s just play a game.”
“I’m on his team!” Edna shuffled over to stand next to Jack.
“Fine. Howard, you’re with me. The rest of you, over there.” I pointed to the other courts.
Once everyone was in position, I took the first serve, Edna receiving the ball first. She dinked the ball back at me, soft and low, just over the net. The ball bounced in the front section of the court, the kitchen, and Howard dinked it back toward Jack.
Jack deftly dinked it back, as if he had been playing pickleball since the day he was born. The rally continued, with Jack perfectly finessing every shot. He had the control of a fighter pilot, the touch of a maestro, and a nose for the ball like a sommelier.
“You’re quite the dinker,“ Edna cooed.
“You should see me bang.” Jack countered. This time, he was the one who winked.
That’s when Edna’s teeth fell out. Literally. I’m not exaggerating. Edna’s teeth physically fell out of her mouth and scattered all over the court.
“Hold up everyone!” I yelled. But the PLINK and PLUNK of the pickleballs persisted. Damn, I needed a whistle.
“We have another dentures situation!” I shouted louder, so everyone could hear.
The pickleballs fell silent. After Jack and I finished helping Edna collect her scattered teeth off the cement, I said, “Edna, you better sit this one out. Jack, we’re going to have to get you a new partner.”
“New partner, huh?” Jack looked over in my direction, smiling. “I think I found one.”
It’s hard to put my feelings at that moment into words. Joy? Maybe. Elation? Perhaps. Eternal bliss? That’s the one. It was the feeling that finally, after all these years, everything suddenly, magically was falling into place. But it was even more than that, too. It was a feeling of relief. The feeling that everything was going to be okay. The Universe wasn’t really out to screw me over at every turn. It was like a twenty-year weight had lifted off my shoulders. Happiness, true happiness, was finally within reach.
“Hey Jack,” a familiar voice said from behind me.
“Hey Janet,” said Jack.
“My name is Howard.” said Howard.
“Janet?” I blinked a couple times to make sure the vision of Janet I was seeing was really real. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Jack.” And then, as if they knew that words alone were not enough to make me understand, Jack and Janet graciously provided me with a physical demonstration. Jack walked around the pickleball net, went over to Janet, leaned in close, and gave her a hug.
“Come on, Jan.” He calls her Jan? “You and I are over here.” Janet pulled out her pickleball paddle as Jack set up on the far side of the court.
On her way over to join him, Janet pulled me aside, leaning in close to whisper. “So remember when I told you Jack helped me get my car out of the mud, while you were in the hospital?”
I pursed my lips. “I remember.”
“Well, we got to talking and, Mary, you will not believe it, but Jack Thompson is not a bad guy. His medical practice sponsors this charity 5k for sick kids. He volunteers as a cook at a homeless shelter and goes on missions to Mexico to rebuild after hurricanes. He’s like some sort of master carpenter or something. He’s not just nice, he’s amazing.”
“I see.” And see, I did. I saw the twinkle in Janet’s eyes and the way her cheeks turned bright pink as she talked about him. I saw the way she looked across the court at Jack’s toned and tanned legs. Aaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!! Yup. Janet showed all the signs. My best friend was falling for the man who both haunted my nightmares and made me have to change the sheets the next morning when he showed up in my dreams. Janet was falling for Jack.
There were so many questions, I didn’t know where to begin. “So when … where … how …”
“After you got trampled at the reunion, and he helped me get my car out of the mud, we started talking and hanging out. Nothing serious, of course, but …” Janet trailed off.
She still had the look in her eye. The same look she always got. The one right before she fell head over heels for some misfit guy and then had her heart ripped out, tossed on the ground, and bludgeoned with a sledgehammer.
Janet had always been a good friend, and I knew she would never do anything to hurt me. Not on purpose, at least. If I would have told her I was still angry at Jack for what he did to me, everything would have ended right then and there. If I had given Janet even a hint that I was still interested in Jack for myself, she would have backed off immediately. But at that point, I wasn’t even willing to admit my true feelings to myself, let alone admit my delusional feelings to someone else. Even if that someone else was my best friend.
Janet must have seen the torment on my face though, because she reached over and grabbed my hand. “Mary? What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to pass out. Maybe you should go sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not upset I’m talking to Jack, are you? He told me he apologized and the two of you made up. But if you’re still mad at him for what he did back in high school …”
Why did everyone have to keep dredging up high school? Why couldn’t everyone just let me suppress my emotional traumas so I could let it all out in one self destructive life spiral during a midlife crisis like everyone else?
“Of course I’m not still mad at him,” I said. “What kind of person holds on to something like that for twenty years?” Me.
Janet cocked her head, studying my face as if she could see right through my skull and into my brain. “You don’t still have feelings for him, right?”
“Feelings for him?” I barked out a laugh. “Janet, you’re my best friend. You’ve known me my whole life. Better than anyone. So you, of all people, know I don’t have any feelings.” I did my best to make a smile.
“So, are we going to play some pickleball here or what?” Jack waved his paddle from the other side of the court.
Janet gave me a big hug. “You’re the best friend anybody could ask for.” She skipped to join Jack, an extra bounce in her step, leaving me with Howard.
Turning back to my partner, I said, “Well, that’s it then. I guess it’s just you and me.”
“My name is Howard!”
* * *
When the lesson was over, Jack went to check on Edna, who was still attempting to reassemble her teeth. Janet came over to my side of the court, while everyone else was busy packing up their gear. “So? What do you think? We make a pretty good team, huh?”
I looked at Janet like she had just asked me to solve an algebra problem in Mandarin Chinese, using sign language. True, they were a phenomenal pickleball team. In pickleball, Janet could be lethal. And Jack, well, apparently, he really was good at everything because he looked like he had been playing pickleball his entire life.
But other than pickleball, Jack and Janet couldn’t have been more wrong for each other. Janet had a history of falling for the wrong guy and then going too far, too fast. And I still wasn’t entirely sure if Jack had really changed. Jack and Janet talking on the phone and hanging out as friends was one thing, but anything more than that was a disaster waiting to happen. I was about to tell Janet exactly that when Dick and Mabel walked over.
“Hey Mary, guess what Dick gave me.” Mabel held up her middle finger. For the life of me, I had no idea why Mabel was flicking me off. Then I realized it wasn’t her middle finger she was showing me, it was her ring finger. With a ring on it, big and sparkly. “Dick proposed!”
The commotion had drawn a crowd, and the other senior pickleballers oohed and aahed appropriately.
Dick put his arm around Mabel’s shoulder. “And to think, we wouldn’t have even met if it wasn’t for you, Mary.” It was true. After introducing Dick and Mabel at one of my pickleball classes, I was the one who encouraged Dick to ask Mabel out. And then encouraged Mabel to say yes to Dick’s invitation.
“There’s going to be an engagement party,” Mabel announced. “And everyone’s invited.”
Dick said, “As you can see, we are very old. So most of our friends are dead now. We could use all the support we can get, so the first round is on me!” There was an eruption of applause.
Mabel turned back to us. “You two are coming, I hope.”
“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it,” Janet answered. “Right Mary?”
“Right. Sure. Of course.”
A sly look spread across Mabel’s face as she leaned in close to Janet. “And bring your new friend, Jack, too.”