5. Shelby #2
Gabi likes to joke that if we were just meeting today, she doesn’t know if we’d be friends. She’s not wrong. There’s something about becoming best friends in kindergarten, and then seeing each other go through all stages of life and awkwardness, that creates one of the most special bonds.
It’s a kind of bond that has its own sense of intuition.
You just know when a friend needs life advice.
I knew every time she needed an escape from her reality when she was married to her asshat ex-husband.
I knew when she needed to cry when she finally got the courage to file for divorce.
I knew that when her divorce was taking too long, a phone call wasn’t enough.
And that’s when I came out here and scared the shit out of her ex, finally ending the two-year mediation.
I also knew when it was time to push her when she was too scared to allow Maddox in her life.
I haven’t given Gabi the opportunity to return that favor.
I rarely let her, or anyone, breach the wall I hide my pain behind.
Call it part of my stubborn personality, or reluctance to let anyone past the well-crafted shield I’ve put around my heart, but my default is to deal with it myself.
Which is why my best friend doesn’t know the entire reason I moved here from Las Vegas.
She doesn’t even know that I was dating anyone, let alone that he was married.
She doesn't know about the nights I spent crying alone, wondering what was going to happen to my career when I wasn't bouncing back after my surgery.
How I actually considered retirement at one point.
But the biggest thing she doesn't know is why I hate her brother. Because I’m not scared of much, but I’m scared of what her reaction will be.
“I can’t believe Beau never told you,” I say, clearly stalling as I try to find the words.
“He’s always told me it was your story to tell.”
Wow. That actually shocks me. Not that it wins Beau any points in my sympathy book—it doesn’t. But, I will acknowledge that was a nice thing to do. The right thing. Especially since he’s the one who cheated and changed the scorecards.
“Shelby, I love you,” Gabi says. “But if you want me to keep being the referee, I have to know what happened between you two. I can’t keep blindly defending your actions, or defending him, if I don’t actually know what this all goes back to.
Because let’s be real, everything between you two goes back to whatever happened back then. ”
My shoulders slump as I look at my best friend. She’s right. I’ve kept her in the dark for years. On purpose. Beau is her brother. She loves him with her whole heart. When I tell her what he did, it will devastate her.
Or, my worst fear, she’ll be like everyone else in my life and believe him. And I’ll lose my best friend.
“I need you to know that I have my reasons for never telling you,” I begin.
“How about you get through the story first, then we’ll circle back to all of that.”
And with that, I go on to tell my best friend about one of the worst days of my life.
After twenty years of silence, I say everything that happened out loud that fateful day at Willomere Country Club and their Junior Amateur Tournament.
My grand plan for winning the grand prize, a five-thousand dollar scholarship.
That if I won the tournament every summer for the next three years, I’d be heading into college with fifteen-thousand-dollars to help pay for school.
“I was on the eighteenth hole, playing in a group with Beau, Chad, and a guy named Dalton. I was in the lead, and all I needed was to hit the best shot of my life to make it over the water. If I did that, I’d have a chance to make a birdie.
And I did it, Gab. I fucking did it. I birdied, Beau parred, which meant I won by two strokes. ”
I watch her eyes as she puts the pieces of the puzzle together. “But you didn’t win that day…”
“No, I didn’t.”
Gabi always knew I lost that day. She remembers how devastated I was after, but I’d never wanted to talk about it. She knows Beau won. But after that, this is all new information.
“So what happened?” Gabi asks. “How did it go from you winning by two to Beau getting the trophy and the prize money?”
“He swapped the scorecard,” I say definitively.
“You know that? For a fact?” Gabi asks in disbelief.
“I mean, I don’t, but it’s the only logical explanation. When I left him to go to the bathroom and call my dad to give him the good news, they were right. When I came out, I saw Beau standing up front, holding the trophy.”
“Oh Shelby,” Gabi says, taking my hand in hers.
“Oh wait, there’s more,” I continue. “When I tried to speak up, to say that something was wrong and the cards must have gotten switched, Mr. Ashcroft grabbed me by the arm—with a firm grip on my bicep, mind you. He said accusations of cheating would not be tolerated. And, if anything, I was the one who cheated because it was Beau who actually won. He went on to say that it was my word against Beau’s and Chad’s, and who would people believe?
He was practically foaming at the mouth, insisting your brother was a good young man and a claim like that could ruin his career. Would I want that?”
Gabi gasps at the story. “He did what? He’s a grown man touching a teenage girl! Did you say anything?”
“I didn’t...” And I hate that even though I lived by my hardened, can-hang-with-the-boys front, I was still a scared girl who didn’t know how to navigate power dynamic situations. “I was panicked. Confused. Embarrassed. And I never played at the country club again.”
I fight off the tears I feel building. I absolutely refuse to cry over a two-decade-old story.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Gabi says, bringing me into her arms. She rocks me back and forth, understanding I’m doing my damnedest to not break down. “I always hated Chad’s dad. He was a fucking misogynistic asshole.”
“Him and most men in Louisiana,” I say.
“Have you ever talked to Beau about this?”
I nod into her hold. “Yeah. Right after. I asked him what happened. He knew I won. Why didn't he say anything? Why did he change the names on the scorecard? Why would he take that moment away from me?”
“What did he say?”
If I was nervous to tell her about the actual incident, telling her Beau’s reaction has me downright petrified. “He swore he didn’t do it. That he doesn’t know what happened, but he had nothing to do with whatever did.”
Gabi’s quiet, too quiet, so I keep talking. The longer I talk, the longer I still have my best friend.
“He claims everything happened so fast. That he was too stunned to say anything.”
But he could have. I’ve maintained since that day that if Beau would’ve stood up for me, for the right thing, maybe things would’ve been different. Another “what-if” I can ponder until the end of time.