The Fox’s Wedding Day

Last Wednesday, I had a noon tee time with Seri and Bea. Rain was in the forecast, and I had woken up with a vicious migraine. But when it comes to golf, the show must go on, especially when other people are counting on you. Bea and I arrived first, and as we waited for Seri, Bea revealed that she, too, wasn’t feeling well. Her stomach hurt, so she didn’t want to “get too excited.” When Seri met us at the starter booth, we told her about our ills, as a pre-apology for playing in a subdued manner.

I have been plagued by migraines since I was a child, when debilitating headaches would leave me wiped out for entire afternoons. Since then, I have learned to live through the pain. Medications seem to make my migraines worse, so I just suffer through. The headaches usually last about 6 to 8 hours, after which the pain breaks, like a fever.

As we teed off, I knew my headache would last for the duration of the round. I triple-bogeyed several holes, though my drives were decent and I even managed to make par on a par 5. But dark, grey clouds were gathering in the sky, and I could feel the air growing cold. Just after we teed off on the 9^th hole, there was a loud peal of thunder in the sky, followed by a sudden, drenching rain.

Seri and Bea took cover in their cart. I was walking, so I ran for the trees. But I still got soaked to the skin. There was more thunder, which meant lightning, so we decided to take shelter at the clubhouse till the storm blew over.

“Let’s get some coffee,” I suggested. “Then maybe we can go out again.”

We went to the clubhouse grill, and once we sat down with our Styrofoam cups, there was an awkward moment when we suddenly realized that this was the first time we had all sat still at a table together. I looked at Seri. “You know, I have never seen you without a hat on.”

She peered up from under her wide brim. “Really? I’m sorry!” she said, removing her hat. She wore her hair in a long braid, and as she smoothed some loose locks away from her forehead, I could see she had a kind face without a wrinkle on it. It seemed to explain why she never expressed anger on the golf course, except sometimes when her ball didn’t fly straight, and she would scold it by saying, “Where are you going?” in mock frustration.

I smiled at her. “Now I could recognize you if I saw you on the street!”

We all laughed and began chatting about golf and other things. Even though we’d already spent many hours together golfing, we didn’t know much about each others’ off-course lives. Bea looked out the window at the outdoor terrace and view of the first tee ground. She told us that it reminded her of a house she used to own. It was on so much land she could practice hitting driver in her backyard. But then one of her businesses suffered a loss, which forced her to sell the house. After that, she went “a little crazy.”

Seri and I nodded in understanding. After 40, life is bound to make anyone a little crazy.

We looked outside to check on the weather.
“Did it stop?” Seri said.
“I still hear thunder,” I said. “We could get struck by lightning.”
“I think we can go out now,” said Bea.
“But no one else is going out,” I said.  

We stared out the window, waiting for the weather to change. Suddenly, the sky brightened and the sun shone through a break in the clouds. But the sprinkles of rain remained steady.

“You know this kind of rain?” said Seri. “We call it ‘fox wedding,’” She said there is a Korean fable where a fox and a tiger marry.

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “A fox and a tiger are so different, so when it rains and it’s sunny, it’s like the marriage of two incompatible animals.”

Bea continued to look longingly out the window. Now I understood her crazy, her pain. Sometimes life is like a sun shower. Alongside the sun, there is rain.

“I know you really want to play,” I said to Bea. “But golf is not worth dying for.”

She looked at me as if she didn’t agree. The clouds gathered again and the fox’s wedding ended. Now it was just pouring rain.

“I’d better go home,” I said. “Maybe we can play next week?"

We went to the pro shop to set up a tee time. Then Seri and Bea went to the range, as consolation for not finishing the round. I went home to nurse my headache. Even though we parted ways early that day, I felt somehow we’d grown closer. For one bittersweet afternoon, we were bridesmaids at a fox’s wedding, and that’s a bond that will never break.