The Sand Trap (13 page)

Melanie did not say anything, but the vacant
look slowly changed to a smile. Not a happy one Rebecca determined,
but it was better than the emotional vacancy she had seen all
day.

“But it won’t compare to the stink that we
will hear when the guys are told they have to play against you. If
you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not exactly the most popular
lady with the guy golfers.”

Melanie spoke for the first time.

“Oh I get it Rebecca. I get it.”

Melanie sat down at the table and pulled her
chair up close to Melanie.

“I don’t think you are going to tell me why
you are doing this are you?” It was more of a statement than a
question.

“No.”

“Couldn’t we have talked this out before you
decided this?”

“No.”

“Do you think you can win?”

Melanie turned and looked at her and no
response was necessary to Rebecca’s question. Rebecca knew the
answer as well. She had become Melanie’s caddy rather than playing
herself because she had seen something in Melanie that made her a
special person and a special golfer. It was not just her apparent
unique physical traits that allowed her to do things athletically
that no one Rebecca knew could ever do. It certainly was not her
warm personality. It took a long time before Melanie warmed up and
opened up to Rebecca and now Rebecca knew a young girl that had a
resolve and self-confidence that matched her athletic ability. Over
the past couple of years they had played together and won more
tournaments in the history of the women’s NCGA, but Rebecca also
knew that Melanie was still in many ways a little girl. As she
looked Melanie in the eye, it was this emotional immaturity that
now concerned Rebecca.

“Ok Melanie. Here’s the deal. I’m a little
pissed that you didn’t involve me in this decision. Your behaviour
today on the golf course was puzzling. Although I can now see why
you kept walking back to the men’s tee boxes. That scene with that
asshole Chad was beyond strange. I’ll not ask you to explain any of
that. There have been occasions when I didn’t understand what was
going on in that Canadian head of yours but I have given you your
headspace. But now, if you want me to caddy for you tomorrow, in
fact if you want to win this fucking thing, you are going to have
to let me take control of whatever is going on between your ears.
You are smart and in control of yourself and your emotions Melanie,
but there is something going on with you that I don’t know, maybe
don’t want to know, so, if you are going to pull this off, you need
my head, not yours.”

Rebecca paused to let this sink in.

“Will you agree to this?”

Melanie looked at her, smiled her first
genuine smile all day and nodded her head.

“Great. Let’s get started. Have you eaten
today?”

Melanie shook her head.

“Ok, the first thing is food. Let’s order a
pizza. I am going to go get a six-pack for me. I need a drink.
While we are waiting for the pizza and I’m out, go have a shower.
You look a mess. Take off those clown golfing clothes and put on
something comfortable. We have some strategizing to do.”

By the time Rebecca returned with the beer,
the pizza had arrived and Melanie was sitting at the table in her
pajamas wolfing down what appeared to be her third piece. “Hungry
were we?” Rebecca asked as she popped open a beer for her and a
coke for Melanie.

“A little I guess!” Melanie laughed. “Thanks
Rebecca,” she said through a mouthful of cheese and tomato
sauce.

“For what?”

“For being my friend. I’ll never forget it.”
It was as emotional as Rebecca had ever seen Melanie.

Rebecca choked a little and cleared her
throat. “Hell, I’ll never let you forget it either! Let’s get to
work.”

Something had changed again in Melanie while
Rebecca was out. The melancholy and emotional blankness was
replaced with an excitement and resolve that translated into
incredible focus over the next few hours as they talked about the
tournament starting tomorrow. Rebecca explained the format to
Melanie and they considered the score that was probably needed to
get into the top sixteen. Rebecca had looked at past tournaments
and suggested that even par on this course would probably be the
cutoff. The only unusual moment in the strategy session came when
Melanie asked Rebecca if she thought Chad would make the cut. Since
he was the top ranked men’s’ golfer and had a -two handicap Rebecca
thought he probably would unless he had a very bad day. Melanie
quickly changed the subject to a discussion of what Melanie could
score. This is when Rebecca took control.

“Melanie I know if your head and your will
are in the right place you could shoot the lights out tomorrow. A
round in the sixties is a real possibility for you. But I don’t
want you to do that.”

Melanie looked puzzled and for a moment a
little defiant. "You want me to lose tomorrow?”

“No, of course not. Ideally I’d like you to
be number sixteen, just barely making it into the match play part
of the competition.”

Melanie was puzzled. “I don’t understand? It
bothered you when I played with my score on purpose. Why have you
changed now?”

“Look Melanie. The real game is the match
play game and that is not a game against the course. It is not a
game that means you are just oblivious to the other player as you
normally are. It means that you are competing hole by hole against
the person, not the course. Except for that time with Chad, this is
a new concept for you. But you have to realize that match play is
as much a head game as a skill game. Each of the final sixteen will
have the skill to win. We have to fuck up their heads.”

Rebecca continued.

“After your performance on the practice
round today and just simply because of the male ego that the
coaches displayed, no one really thinks you have a chance to win.
You and I know otherwise, but we have to keep that from them as
long as possible. After you get into the final sixteen the best
thing would be for the press to say you are lucky and not that you
are good.”

Melanie was starting to get the idea. “So I
keep the fact that I can beat them a secret for as long as I
can?”

“That’s the idea. Remember many of these
players and coaches have not seen your crazy swing so they will
never want to believe such a golfing abomination could beat their
swing perfect players.”

They both laughed at the reference to
Melanie’s swing. They had become quite accustomed to such
derogatory comments and had just responded by crushing the
opposition.

“The one fly in this plan might be the press
Melanie,” Rebecca warned. “That reporter from the Herald back home
is here and he knows you better than you probably know yourself. He
might start writing stories describing your winning record and get
all the others worried that you might win. So let me do all the
talking with the press.”

“ So what score are we aiming for
tomorrow?”

Rebecca thought for a moment.

“How about this scenario? You have a
disastrous front nine, say a four or five over par. Miss some
putts. Hit some sand traps and so on. At the turn we can check out
the leader board and see what tenth place looks like and you can
aim for that on the back nine.” Rebecca paused while Melanie
thought about the plan. “Can you do that? It is risky but necessary
I think.”

“No problem. Do you know who I am playing
with?”

In medal play the playing partners did not
really matter since it was playing for score, not against the
actual golfers. Foursomes had been chosen by a draw at the end of
the Board meeting that afternoon.

“Yeah, I know who you’re with,” Rebecca
hesitated before she responded.

“For the men it’s an afternoon shotgun and
you start on the first hole. You will be playing with Howard
Rushton, a senior from Texas, Will Cummins, a sophomore like you
from New Hampshire, and ” she took a deep breath. “Burt.”

Melanie gave a look of anger and
surprise.

“A draw eh? I suppose it is one heck of a
coincidence that I start on the first hole and every reporter and
parent in the country will be watching – and the person in all of
Montana who seems to resent my golf the most is in my
foursome?”

“Coach said the first hole thing was a
genuine coincidence. Most of the coaches and players want the
publicity. Remember, most seem to think they have a pro career in
front of them so any way that they can get the attention of
potential sponsors is a good thing. Apparently there was even some
effort to bump you to another hole. But the Burt thing? Strange
that. There is a provision for players to appeal their starting
hole and Coach said he saw Burt’s parents talking to the Chair of
the Board, so something may have gone on.”

Melanie was lost in her thoughts for a
moment. She quietly informed Rebecca that, “He wants to be the one
to embarrass me on the golf course.”

“Does it bother you Melanie? He has been
rude to you in the past and people have witnessed it. We could ask
for a change?”

Melanie looked Rebecca straight in the eye.
“Not on your life. You strategize on the golf. Leave Burt to
me.”

By the time they finished their pizza and
talked more about their strategy for tomorrow it was late and they
prepared to go to their separate bedrooms. As they got up to leave
the table, Melanie touched Rebecca on the arm and when Rebecca
turned, Melanie gave her a warm and firm hug. “You know that
whatever happens Rebecca, you are the best friend I ever had. I
love you.”

Rebecca hugged back. “I know kid – me too –
let’s go to bed.”

But neither was quick to sleep.

Rebecca kept running the events of the day
back in her mind, trying to put together the pieces that led to
Melanie’s decision to compete on the men’s side. That greeting and
kiss for Chad was simply bizarre. Melanie had something of a crush
on that asshole, but was too shy to even talk to him. That round of
golf; it was like she was punishing herself with each shot. One
moment she was a resolute and confident adult and the next seemed
like an eight-year- old. Even her attitude to Rebecca was
different. They had become close friends over the past year or so,
but that was the first time that she had seen such a display of
emotion from her. They did love each other as only good friends
can, but why Melanie chose tonight to say it was not clear to
Rebecca and she fell asleep with no answer to the puzzle.

For the first time in her life, Melanie was
crying herself to sleep. In her whole life she could only remember
physical response type tears and never emotional ones. A broken arm
in the third grade hurt and she cried. The time she walked into a
hornet’s nest in the wheat field looking for balls brought tears to
her eyes just remembering. But the inside pain never brought tears,
only resolve. She was only four years old when her mother left and
there was pain, but she did not cry. She had her share of
adolescent heartbreak, maybe more than her share, but she never
cried. She had endured endless, petty teenage girl teasing and
bullying, but no matter how hurt she was at the cruelty of talk,
she never cried. But tonight as she sat on the edge of her bed, she
cried with the pent up intensity of every event in her life that
had deserved a good cry. And it wasn't the raw pain between her
thighs that brought the tears. A lifetime of teasing, bullying,
rejection and loneliness came pouring out in sobs of self-pity that
Melanie did not know she had. She had viewed herself as emotionally
strong and immune to the silliness of the rest of the world. She
had felt she was in control of when or whether she would feel
something … anger, love, hate, pity. Now she was crying
uncontrollably and with each tear she felt a little bit of that
control and self-confidence drip onto the carpet at the bottom of
the bed. Tonight she did not know who she was or why she was doing
what she was doing or what she would do tomorrow.

For perhaps the first time in her life,
Melanie McDougal was afraid.

(Back to Table of Contents)

Part 1 - Chapter 8: The First Day of
Play

As usual, Melanie was up and dressed ready
to go before Rebecca was out of bed. By the time Rebecca entered
the kitchen, the coffee was on and a hearty breakfast of toast,
bacon and fried eggs was waiting.

“Ugh. You know I can't eat that shit in the
morning,” Rebecca exclaimed. “Any pizza left over from last
night?”

Melanie knew that she was joking and put the
plate of eggs in front of her. “Eat up girl. You and I have a big
day before us. I don’t want you to drop my bag by the twelfth
hole.”

Rebecca looked up at Melanie a little
puzzled and not a little surprised. Apart from the feeble attempt
at uncharacteristic humour, Melanie was never much for small talk.
Melanie was physically different this morning.