"I didn't come for you. I came for the golf," Jay replied quickly, as if denying something obvious.
"Sure. That's why you brought Cam," Mitchell said, raising an eyebrow with irony.
"I brought Cam because..." Jay began, searching for excuses.
"Because you like me. Admit it, Jay. You like me," Cameron interrupted with a wide smile.
"I like you, but I won't admit it out loud," Jay said with resignation, looking away.
"You already did," Cameron pointed out with amusement.
"No," Jay denied stubbornly.
"Yes. You said 'I like you,'" Cameron insisted with a smile.
"I said 'I like you,' but I didn't mean it," Jay replied evasively.
"That doesn't make sense," Cameron said, laughing.
"Welcome to my world," Jay replied with a sigh.
We arrived at the golf club. Perfect grass, trees lined up like soldiers, men in pastel-colored pants walking with ceremonial slowness.
Jay led us to the driving range, where a group of middle-aged men were hitting balls.
"These are the guys. Scotty, Dale, Hugo, and Shorty," Jay said, pointing to the group with pride.
Scotty was a bald man with a mustache and a beer belly. Dale was shorter, with sunglasses. Hugo was the oldest, with white hair. And Shorty wore impeccable pants, a perfect blue shirt, and an elegant swing.
"Guys, this is Leo. He's a friend of my granddaughter's, and he knows about angles," Jay introduced with pride.
"Angles?" Scotty asked, frowning with confusion.
"About clubs. Servomotors. He's a prodigy," Jay explained with certainty.
"A prodigy of what?" Scotty asked, skeptical.
"Robotics. And golf, even though he's never played," Jay said as if it were obvious.
The men exchanged confused looks. Shorty, however, smiled at me.
"Welcome, kid. Want to give it a try?" Shorty said with a soft, kind voice.
He handed me a club. I took it with clumsy hands. Mitchell came to my side.
"Don't worry. I don't know how to play either. We'll make fools of ourselves together," Mitchell said with a nervous smile.
"That's it! Unity in humiliation. It's very romantic," Cameron exclaimed with enthusiasm.
"It's not romantic. It's practical," Mitchell replied dryly.
"It can be both," Cameron said with a smile.
"No," Mitchell said with fatigue.
"Yes. Like us," Cameron replied with pride.
Jay sighed.
"Can you stop talking and hit the damn ball?" Jay said with exasperation.
I stood in front of the ball. I took a deep breath. I remembered the servomotor angles. I swung.
The ball shot off to the left. Way to the left. It ended up on the adjacent fairway, where a man in pink pants dodged it by millimeters.
"Good try," Mitchell said with a supportive tone.
"That was horrible," I admitted with shame.
"Yes, but it was a try. That's what counts," Mitchell replied sincerely.
"That's it! Intention is more important than the result," Cameron exclaimed happily.
"No. The result is more important. That's why you keep score," Jay said firmly.
"That's what you think. But I believe the real score is in the heart," Cameron replied with a wide smile.
"In the heart? Are we playing golf or a Disney movie?" Jay said with disbelief.
"It could be both," Cameron replied with mischief.
"No," Mitchell said with fatigue.
"Yes," Cameron replied with certainty.
The Golf Course
After half an hour, Jay decided it was time to play for real.
"Leo, you're with me. Mitchell, you go with Shorty. Cameron, you go with Scotty. The rest of you, figure yourselves out," Jay said with authority.
"Why me with Shorty?" Mitchell asked with distrust.
"Because I need someone to keep an eye on him. Last time we played, he tried to convince everyone that the grass was greener on the seventh hole because 'the chlorophyll molecules were happier,'" Jay explained with exasperation.
"That's not what I said. I said the orientation of the course affected photosynthesis," Mitchell replied, offended.
"It's the same thing," Jay said stubbornly.
"It's not the same thing," Mitchell insisted.
"It's the same thing," Jay repeated.
"Can I go with Mitchell? We're a team. We do everything together," Cameron asked with hope.
"You're not going together. That way you learn to be independent," Jay replied firmly.
"I don't want to be independent. I want to be dependent. On him," Cameron said with a romantic smile.
"That's very romantic," Mitchell admitted with a small smile.
"Of course it's romantic. I'm right," Cameron replied with pride.
Jay led me to the first hole. A small lake on the right, a huge tree on the left.
"Any advice?" I asked with curiosity.
"Hit the ball so it doesn't go in the water. And if it does go in the water, make sure it doesn't splash too much," Jay said with sarcasm.
"Is that advice?" I asked with disbelief.
"That's all you need to know. The rest is luck," Jay replied with a crooked smile.
I swung. The ball flew in a straight line toward the hole. It landed two meters away, rolled, and stopped at the edge of the green.
Jay looked at me. I looked at him.
"Was that luck?" I asked with surprise.
"No, that was a miracle. But don't get used to it," Jay said with a mix of pride and warning.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because golf is cruel. It gives you hope, and then it snatches it away. Like life, but with more grass," Jay replied with weary wisdom.
On the fourth hole, something changed.
Shorty and Mitchell had gone ahead. Shorty was explaining something about foot positioning.
"You have to open your hips like this. Relax your shoulders," Shorty said with patience.
"That's what Cam says. But when I try it, the ball ends up in the tree," Mitchell replied with frustration.
"Because you think too much. Golf is like dancing. You have to feel it," Shorty said calmly.
"I don't know how to dance," Mitchell admitted with shame.
"Neither do I. But I learned to fake it," Shorty replied with a smile.
Cameron and Scotty were further back, arguing about music.
"Gospel has soul. Country has history. They're not comparable," Cameron said with conviction.
"Country is better," Scotty replied stubbornly.
"No," Cameron denied.
"Yes," Scotty insisted.
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Mitchell has a gaydar that doesn't work.
And Leo learned that people can change 15%. More or less.
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