Some Call It Luck - Chapter 38

by Jim Wile

Background
A brilliant and beautiful but insecure, nerdy young woman befriends a going nowhere older alcoholic caddie. Together, they bring out the best in each other and collaborate on a startling new invention

(See the Author Notes for a description of the main characters.)

Recap: Abby has returned to Brentwood CC to work at the snack bar again this summer to earn money for grad school. While at school a few months back, she had met an interesting guy who she never saw again until he walks up to the snack bar with her friend Eddie. Kenny is a member at Brentwood, and after a rocky start, they begin dating. Kenny is finally able to befriend Abby’s stand-offish cat, Lester, who warms to him after Kenny saved him from choking to death. Toward the end of summer, Kenny and Abby profess their love for each other, but soon after, tragedy strikes as Kenny accidentally runs over and kills Lester. Abby is so distraught that she blames Kenny and tells him to leave her alone. Both Abby and Kenny seek out E.J. for his advice on what to do to mend things. After two weeks, Abby and Kenny reconcile and bury Lester together. The summer is over, and Abby and E.J. bid each other goodbye as she is heading back to school tomorrow to begin her master’s degree.

Abby St. Claire

The next day
August, 1987

Yesterday was my last day of work at the club. I had a tearful goodbye with E.J. He has sure come a long way since we first became friends the previous summer. I hope he proceeds with his plan to resume his education, and wouldn’t it be great if he gets into Penn State!

Kenny came over last night to help me pack for college since I would be leaving in the morning. He told me he would accompany me to school in his car and help me move my things into my apartment. I loved that idea mainly because I wanted to show him off to my roommates.

When he arrived this morning, he helped me pack up my car with a few boxes of stuff and all my clothes. Then it was time to say goodbye to Aunt Helen and Uncle Bert. I gave them each a hug and a kiss, and thanked them for letting me stay with them again this summer. All three of us had tears in our eyes as we said our final farewells.

Kenny and I then caravanned the 70 miles to school.

I introduced Kenny to my two roommates who had arrived back at school the previous afternoon. They helped us move my few boxes, suitcases, and hang-up clothes into the apartment. Afterward, we got some Cokes from the refrigerator and headed out to the porch, where we sat around drinking and talking about the summer’s events. I told the others all about how we had met, including the part about the champagne debacle, and we all had a good laugh over that. See, E.J. was right again.

Soon Kenny had to go, and I walked him to his car. I took his two hands in mine and looked up at him. “Thank you so much for everything.”

He just folded me into his arms, and we stood there hugging like that for several minutes.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he said to me. “And I’ll come back and visit you Friday night after work, if that’s okay. You know, I’d love to make that a regular weekend event.”

“Me too.”

Then he gave me a long kiss goodbye. “I love you, Abby.”

“Kenny, I truly love you.”

He turned and got into his car then, and we waved to each other before he headed back home.

As promised, he called me that night around 6:30. We talked for half an hour. “You know, my roommates were very impressed with you and told me how lucky I was that you’re just about an hour away and could come and visit as often as we talked about.”

“It’s going to be hard to wait a whole week to come see you again, though,” he said. “Why don’t we call each other on Tuesday nights to help break up the week?”

I thought that was a great idea. We also talked about our weekend plans and agreed that he would come Friday evenings after work and spend the day Saturdays, but leave after dinner. I told him I would need to study, and he said he usually liked to play golf with Eddie on Sundays anyway. Although not ideal, in that we could no longer see each other every day, it would have to do until... well, until things might change.

E.J. Budrowski

Two weeks later
September, 1987

It was a Tuesday, and I played a match in the afternoon against a big, strong kid, who had just graduated from college the previous spring. I was 1-up on the kid after the 16th hole, but I missed short putts of five feet and four feet on the last two holes to lose to him. It cost me only $200, but it pissed me off to blow it like that. I thanked him for the match, paid up, and arranged a rematch for Thursday—my day off.

The rematch on Thursday was even worse than the match on Tuesday. I had been missing short putts all day, and the kid had me five holes down with five to go. I had to win every hole just to tie.

On the 14th green, I needed to sink a two-foot putt to win the hole and extend the match. I was so nervous, I backed off the putt twice before settling in. I couldn’t take the putter back! When I finally did, I just jabbed at the ball and missed the hole by four inches on the right. It was a spastic stroke that I had no control over.

I just hung my head for a minute. I looked up at the kid, and I knew he felt bad for me. He was a nice kid and said he hated to win this way. I shook his hand and thanked him and told him he played great, but I was dying inside and had to get out of there. I paid him his $200 and left in a hurry.

There is a name for what I have. It’s called the “yips.” I seem to have lost all control of my right hand which would twitch as I was about to hit the short putts. It was damn frustrating. Nobody quite knew the reason for them. One of the early greats in the game, Harry Vardon, had the yips, but his were probably due to having had tuberculosis. I didn’t even want to entertain the idea that mine might be due to my alcohol consumption.

When I got back to the apartment, I slammed the clubs down into the corner and stormed over to the cupboard by the sink. I took out the bourbon and began swigging right from the bottle. I was so frustrated and angry that I couldn’t do anything else for a few minutes and just kept drinking out of the bottle. Finally, I put it down. My nerves were shot, but I had to relax for a while before bridge with Abby tonight; I hoped the booze would do it for me.

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Abby St. Claire: Age 21. She has just graduated from Penn State University where she was a math major and has decided to go for a masters degree there next year. She is intelligent and beautiful, yet shy and awkward with most people her age, having been picked on quite a lot while growing up. She works at the snack bar and as a waitress at Brentwood Country Club during the summers. She is dating Kenny who she met earlier this year and is a member at Brentwood.
Kenny Payne: Age 22. Abby met him briefly at a frat party in her senior year and was intrigued by him, then she sees him again when he walks up to the snack bar several months later. Tall, good looking, and an all-around nice guy.
E.J. Budrowski: Age 38. An alcoholic with a traumatic past (an abusive father and a mother driven to suicide) who is a caddie at Brentwood CC. One day he finds a dirty old golf ball on the edge of a pond that seems to have unusual powers, for he makes two holes-in-one with it. He and Abby become friends when she encourages him to take up both golf and bridge again after long layoffs.

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Abby goes back to school. E.J.'s troubles begin.

A chapter in the book Some Call It Luck

Some Call It Luck - Chapter 38

by Jim Wile

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