“Okay,” she says, dragging out the word, “and what gave you that desire?”
“Somefamily trauma that happened whenIwas six.”Iam shocked thatIgave away so much in my answer.Ihadn’t even thought about it first.Ihaven’t heardCharliein my ear for several minutes, butIhear her quiet gasp, too.
“Relatedto a lack of business solutions?”
Ismile, grateful that she’s going along with my vagueness. “Ofcourse.”Ican tell that she senses that the story is much bigger, and it is.Shealso seems to sense that it’s not really a discussion topic for a first date.
Atthe third hole,Imanage to putt my ball so it lands perfectly in a seat on theFerriswheel, and it takes it up and around before dumping it out on the other side, rolling in the general direction of the hole.
Iwatch asMackenzielines up her feet and her club to get the perfect hit toward theFerriswheel.Myjob is to protect her.Andto find the guys trying to get hold of those weapon plans.ButIfind myself constantly wanting to know more and more about this woman.
“So, you broke your arm climbing a tree.Doesthat mean you’ve always been competitive?Wereyou trying to climb the highest or something?”
“Ha.No. ‘Distractable’ is a better word for it than ‘competitive.’Iwas probably climbing the tree to see inside a bird’s nest or something.Iwas always running off, doing my own thing, soIwas easy to forget.”
“Youfelt forgotten a lot?”
Shelooks up from where she’s lining up her next shot and shrugs. “Youknow how there’s a certain number of kids your parents can handle at one time?”
No…Ican’t sayI’veever known that is a thing.
“Formy parents, it’s two kids.Butthey had four.”Shehits her ball, but it skirts right past the hole.
“Ahh.”
Shesizes up her next shot. “AndIwas such an oblivious kid.Inever paid attention to the thingsIshould’ve been paying attention to becauseIwas distracted by everything else.Likea really interesting bug at the park.Orthe cool shoes a worker atDisneylandwas wearing.Orthe way the package ofTwinkieson the shelf at the grocery store has a logo that looks three-dimensional.
“WhenwhatIreally should’ve been paying attention to was the kickball game that was forming, or that my family was getting in line to ride on theMatterhorn, or that my mom moved onto the cereal aisle.”Shesinks her ball. “Yes!” she shouts before pulling it out of the hole.
Inod slowly asIline up to take my shot. “Sowhen you mentioned being left at a gas station earlier, you were speaking from personal experience.”
Sheholds her ball out in my direction like she’s using it to make a point. “Yes, but in my defense, we were in the gas station, getting some road trip snacks on the way toColonialWilliamsburg, andIjust really had to go to the bathroom.Okay, yeah,Iwas six and should’ve told someone first.Iknow.
“Icame out of the bathroom, andIlikely had toilet paper stuck to my shoe and was probably still tucking in my shirt asIcame out, orIhad an unzipped fly or something—Idon’t know—Ididn’t pay attention to details like that.”
AsItap my ball into the hole,Istart to chuckle.Betweenthe way she’s holding back her own laughter enough to tell the story and how animatedly she’s talking,Ican’t help it.Shehas me captivated.
Wewalk to the next hole— one where we aim at flaps that look like the shooting targets in one of the fairway games, flanked by big fiberglass bears and bunnies painted to look like the stuffed ones you might win by playing, andIhit my ball, knocking over one flap, which drops my ball out toward the hole.
“ThenIlooked around and didn’t see my family.Iwent down all three mini aisles in the store with no luck, soIfigured they went out to the car.ButwhenIwent out,Icouldn’t see our car anywhere.Iran out to the road, looked in both directions, and still nothing.”
AsMackenzieis putting and telling her story,Inotice that her lips quirk up at the sides when she’s remembering something amusing.Herleft eyebrow rises just a bit, too.Andwhen she smiles big, it makes her ears shift just a fraction, like they want to get in on the action.
“SoI’mpretty panicked at this point, andIgo back into the store and tell the lady behind the counter that my ship sailed andIwasn’t on it, and sinceI’mpanicking,Ican’t remember either of my parent’s phone numbers.”Shepauses for a moment. “Maybebecause when my parents were trying to drill it into me,Iwas distracted by some lint on my pants that looked like a seahorse or something.
“Aboutten minutes down the road, my parents realizedIwasn’t in the car and came back to get me.”
Weboth are laughing as we hit our balls in the hole, grab them out, and then start walking to the next hole as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. “I’mglad you were saved in the end.”
“Me, too.Andinmy parents’ defense, my cousinLindseywas on the trip with us.Shewas seven, and she talkeda lot.Soit probably felt like there were plenty of kids in the car.Andmy parents felt bad enough that they didn’t even give me much grief for not telling anyoneIwas going into the bathroom.”Shechuckles. “Butafter knowing they might leave me, you can bet money thatInever made that mistake again.”
“Asa fellow middle child,Itotally get it.”AndItotally do.Therewere plenty of times when one sibling or another needed a lot of extra attention and there was only so much parental attention to go around.
Westep up to a hole with a six-foot-high building that looks like a booth where a carnival-goer would buy tickets to the ride.Askinny ramp for our golf balls to travel up leads to an opening thatIassume will drop our balls on the other side of the booth.Butthe ticket taker has an arm that is turning in a circle, blocking the hole at times.Ifeel like it is this course’s classic windmill obstacle.
Weeach manage to get our balls to go up the ramp, but the swinging arm bats them away.Thesecond try is the same.
Aswe play,Imarvel at hownormaleverything feels being aroundMackenzie.LikeI’ma normal person on a normal date.I’menjoying actual real life and not the life of a covert operative.
