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The alarm sliced through the air like a warning shot, yanking me out of yet another poor night's sleep. I smacked my phone until it stopped screaming, then lay there blinking at the ceiling. It was now two weeks since the vacation, two weeks since everything.
I stared at the ceiling for a beat too long, caught in that strange purgatory of what my relationship with Addison was. We had bonded like no brother and sister should at the cabin. Since then, there has been near radio silence. We behaved like we did before the trip to the cabin. There was no mention of the events of that weekend.
The bed creaked as I sat up. A soft groan in the old floorboards greeted my bare feet. Somewhere outside, a bird was going absolutely feral about the sunrise. I left the cabin, no longer thinking about my ex, but now thinking about my sister.
Today was the first day at the new job. My dad insisted I pick up a summer job so I would have spending money at college.
The kitchen smelled like coffee before I even walked in. My mom was already there, the soft hum of the blender signaling she was working on her morning smoothie.
"Morning," she said, reaching for a plate of scrambled eggs. "I made your favorite."
I rubbed my eyes. "Thanks, Mom," I muttered, grabbing a fork and sinking into the familiar comfort of home. The eggs were fluffly, just how I liked them. "You didn't have to make breakfast."
She waved me off, already moving the kitchen like it was a well-rehearsed routine. "You start your new job today, right? I figured you could use a good meal to get you through the morning."
I nodded, shoveling eggs into my mouth. It was hard not to feel guilty. My mother was oblivious to what had transpired between her children.
I finished breakfast quickly, then grabbed my bag off the chair by the door. I wasn't about to let myself fall into the old habits of overthinking things.
"Love you, Mom," I said, squeezing past her to grab my keys.
"Love you, too, Hon. Don't forget to smile today."
As I left, I shot her a half-smile, slamming the door shut behind me.
The heat of California already pressed in, the sun just beginning to crawl its way up over the hills. I threw on my sunglasses and slid into my car. The drive was short, just a few blocks to the country club.
The smell of fresh-cut grass hit me before I even saw the club itself. The place always felt like a world of its own. Expensive, manicured lawns, and members who probably had more than enough time to perfect their golf swings.
I parked in the back lot, next to a line of golf carts, each one gleaming in the early morning light. I'd gotten the job through a friend's cousin who worked here part-time. They needed someone to help with the carts and occasionally assist the golfers who needed a hand with their clubs. Nothing glamorous, but it paid better than a lot of other jobs, and I figured the gig could teach me some skills that might come in handy later.
As I walked through the club's back door, I was hit with the low murmur of the early crowd already getting their tee times. The place had that upscale feel, but also a laid-back vibe if you looked past the shiny logo-emblazoned polos and designer sunglasses. I guess that was the charm of the country club. Everyone was rich, but they didn't need to make it obvious. They just were.
Inside, I found a guy in his late twenties, wearing a uniform shirt with the club's crest and a name tag that read "Rick." He sat behind the counter, sipping his drink and scrolling through his phone.
"Rick? I was told to find you. My name is Calvin, the new hire."
"Hello, Calvin," he said, glancing up. "I'll show you the ropes."
I set my bag down next to the counter and ran a hand through my hair, suddenly self-conscious. This was the first step into a whole new routine. "So, what's the deal? What do I need to do?"
Rick slid off his stool and gestured toward the golf carts lined up outside. "Pretty simple. You'll help load the carts for the golfers, take their bags to the tee box when needed, clean and maintain the carts, that kind of thing. It's not too bad, especially early in the morning when it's quiet like this. Later on, the course gets packed, but you'll get the hang of it."
I nodded, still trying to shake the sense of everything being a bit too perfect, too well-maintained, for my taste. But the pay was decent, and the hours would help me focus on something other than Addison.
"Alright, sounds good," I said, following Rick outside.
The sun was creeping higher, turning the sky into a soft shade of blue as we passed rows of neatly trimmed hedges and water features that sparkled in the light. There was a golf tournament in full swing by the time I got to the first hole, a few early birds in their polos and khakis already lining up their shots. I grabbed a golf bag from the cart and headed toward one of the players who looked like he needed a hand.
"Morning," I said, adjusting the bag's strap as I offered it up to the guy on the tee. He looked like he was probably older than my dad, but he gave me a nod and a half-smile.
"Thanks, kid. I'll take it from here." He swung a club, perfecting his form as if he were trying to show off for a crowd that wasn't there.
As I walked back toward the carts, I couldn't help but feel that gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach, the same feeling I'd had for the past two weeks since getting home from that weekend getaway with Addison. There had been moments of clarity on that trip, sure, moments where I thought we were making progress, maybe even moving forward together. But since we'd gotten back, things had been... weird.
Addison hadn't said anything. Not about the weekend. Not about anything that had happened between us. It was like the whole trip had been erased the second we walked back through the door.
I glanced toward the clubhouse, my stomach tightening. What did we have, exactly? Was she just avoiding me, or was I reading into things too much? I didn't know, but I was sure I didn't have the guts to ask her either.
"Hey, Calvin!" Rick called, pulling me out of my head. "We need a hand over by the 8th hole."
I nodded and grabbed a few bags, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. But even as I worked, the questions about Addison lingered.
I rotated between holes, helping the club members with whatever they needed. First day. Keep your head down, that was the plan.
Then Rick called me over with a nod.
"Hey, Calvin, I need you inside. A lady near the tennis court needs your help."
I didn't ask questions. Just nodded and made my way to the tennis court.
She was waiting near the tennis lockers, mid-thirties, maybe forties, dressed sharp but casual, like she belonged everywhere she went. She turned when she heard me.
"You work here?" she asked, already smiling.
"Yeah, just started today."
"Well, welcome. I'm already putting you to work."
She laughed softly, and I managed a smile.
"What do you need help with?" I asked.
"Lockers jammed. Or maybe I just forgot the combination again. Either way, it's being stubborn."
I knelt beside the lock, tried the combo she gave me, then jiggled it a little. It clicked open like it was never stuck to begin with.
