Vincent

An Agent's Course

I was forced awake by my father. I guess he was still angry that I pulled my shit last night. I was hungover with a major headache. I pulled on some sports leggings, a shirt, and a sports jacket. I threw my hair up in a bun. Before we could leave, dad forced me to pick up all the trash from last night, Swiffer the floor, and move stuff back in from the garage. Freddie attempted to help me but dad yelled at him. I was even forced to put their stupid golf clubs in the car.

The drive felt like it took forever. My headache made me want to die. I hated golfing. It was boring to watch. I'd only used to go because I could drive the golf cart. The sun was high in the sky when I stepped out of the car and I hated it. It was too bright.

Dad was definitely punishing me. I had to strap their stupid fucking golf bags to the back of the golf cart. He met with four other people so there were a total of three carts, including mine. Luckily I got the privilege of driving the golf cart.

"Dad?" I called as he sat in the cart, Freddie following. "Do you have any water?"

"It's on Andy's cart," he answered as I drove to the third hole. I parked it, waiting for them to follow so I could get some water. At one point, Freddie and I played ahead a hole. We were just fucking around. I accidentally hit the ball into the water three times. Freddie and I found it funny but when dad caught up to us, catching a ride with Andy, he didn't find it funny.

"Do you have any more aspirin?" I asked Freddie as we drove back to the clubhouse. Dad was riding with Andy because he got too annoyed with us.

"Uh. . . no? You can check in the side bag once we stop," he told me as I rounded a curve.

"I have such a headache," I groaned.

"Well, you didn't have to do that last night," Freddie mumbled. "It was very irresponsible."

"It was very irresponsible," I mimic. "Shut up."

"Whatever," he sighed as I parked the golf cart, waiting for dad. I got out, searching for aspirin to clear my headache. It was bothering me so much. I wanted to die. I found the bottle, took a pill, and took a sip of water. When Freddie got out of the car, I went out of my way to trip him.

"You fuckin' bitch," he muttered, moving to grab my arm. I tried to fight him off, successfully getting out of his grip. It was that weird moment when you didn't want to hit them because you were waiting but you also wanted to attack.

"Stop," I said, laughing.

"No, I get to hit you back," he responded, smiling.

I took the chance to try and hit his arm but he tried to trip me. I pushed my back against his chest, pulling his arm to my stomach to try and force him to fall past me. With our giggles, we didn't hear dad's golf cart pull up behind us.

"Hey!" he shouted, parking next to us, "would youze fuckin' stop? Fucking Christ, I can't take youze two anywhere!"

As my dad's friend's cart pulled up, Freddie and I parted, trying to stop laughing but it only made it worse. My laughing was justified though. I just sat through nine boring holes of golf, I was allowed to have fun.

Dad forced me and Freddie to go sit at a table with Andy while Dad and his two other friends went to get drinks at the bar. Andy's phone started to ring but he denied the call. I heard a helicopter above and I looked past the umbrella, trying to find it. It went past the prestigious clubhouse and out of my line of sight. When dad came back, they started their banter about golf and all that boring stuff.

"I'm just sayin', Mikey, I should've hit a five and it was an eight," one said.

"Yeah, on a par four," one added. Dad laughed, shuffling some cards as they got ready to play. I didn't hear which game they were playing. I was taking the time to relax. My back hurt.