Carlos left us to sip our coffee. I relaxed into the pleasant surroundings, the horizon of green, the waterfall off in the distance. “I’d like to go see the waterfall,” I said.
Timothy smiled, took a drink from his mug, and said, “It would be a delight to take you there.”
We sipped for several minutes in silence. A bird was singing in a nearby tree. I liked the sound of birdsong. I found it relaxing.
“There’s a tennis court nearby. Do you play tennis?” Timothy asked.
I shook my head. “In college when they made us take PE classes, I chose badminton and ping pong. Very useful,” I laughed, hiding embarrassment, because I knew that those two sports weren’t things adults in Timothy’s social position played.
“Ah,” Timothy said. “I have played both games. There are ping pong tables in the rec room. I challenge you to a game.”
“I haven’t played for a couple of years,” I warned.
“I haven’t played for longer than that. Likewise, badminton. It will be fun to face up to you for a match in badminton, if we can find a place that is set up for it.”
“What else do they do here. I mean, besides golf.”
Timothy stretched out his long legs. I wondered if that was a sign he was relaxed. Were his fears over? Was he sure about me now? I wasn’t positive I was over my shock and fear, but for the moment, it was nice to just sit outside and watch the golfers.
“Horseback riding, yoga, bingo, card games, water aerobics, a whole list. Are you interested? They have parties and dances, too. I think there’s a square dance or maybe it’s a line dance coming up.”
“Pass. My dancing is at point zero.”
“There are lots of lessons offered: knitting, crochet, painting with oils . . . dancing.”
“How about golf? Can anyone play?”
“Have you ever tried it?” Timothy asked, raising his eyebrows.
I shook my head. “I’ve never done anything, well, except take care of my grandmother when she got sick. I learned how to. . . Never mind, let’s not get into that. It’s sad stuff. I want to talk about happy.”
“Ah, I forgot one. Cake decorating. I saw that advertised in a flyer they put in my mailbox. As to golfing, they have a whole squad of instructors for that. They seem to specialize in golf and tennis lessons.”
“I don’t get it. You take the stick and hit the ball. What’s so hard about that?”
Timothy started laughing. “They’d kick you out if they heard you say that. Did you ever bowl?”
I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.
“Okay, not a good illustration. How about this. Riding a horse just means you sit down and hold on.”
Timothy probably remembered how scared I’d been in my dream . . .