into the net, fell and joined the first, resting like eggs in a farm wife’s apron.
“What are you doing?” Betsy called out. She stood up on the trampoline to see over top of the fence, and bounced a bit to get a better look.
“Ah. Good morning, didn’t know you were there,” Derek greeted her. He’d dragged his picnic table to the back of the yard to make some space for himself. At the top of her bouncing arc she could see a half dozen golf balls at his feet. Betsy watched him tap one away from the others, and take his place over it. “Pay attention,” he said. “You’re about to witness impeccable form.” He took several practice swings and finally addressed the ball, staring at it for what to Betsy seemed an agonizingly long time. Then he swung. Whoosh, whap—whap!” The ball struck the fence below the netting and ricocheted back at him like a bullet. He tried to twist his head out of the way but it smacked him on the skull just behind his ear.
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” he shouted. Betsy stopped bouncing and stared at him. She covered her mouth to hide her grin. “Don’t you fucking laugh!” he shouted at her. But then he smiled himself.
“Do you want your balls back?” she asked, hopping down from the trampoline and going to the fence.
“Of course I want my balls back, what do you think?”
“You should ask nicely,” she scolded him.
“Screw you to that. Not everyone is as polite and civil as you, little girl.”
“I’m not, really. What’s to keep me from keeping these?”
“I’ll come over there and wring your scrawny little neck, that’s what.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“Don’t try me.”
Betsy went to the knothole in the fence. On tiptoes she could see him through it. “I can watch you practice golf from here,” she said.
“No you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll show you.” He picked a ball from the ground, came over and stuck it through the hole. “A well-struck shot would knock your eyeball out the back of your skull,” he said. Betsy stepped back and watched as the ball fell though the hole and landed at her feet. She scooped it up and rubbed her fingers over the funny dimpled surface.
“Now I have three,” she said.
“Where’s your mother?” he asked.
“She’s inside,” she lied. “How come you like golf?”
“Well it’s like this, my dear. As Willie Nelson said to Bob Dylan, once you start playing golf, you can’t hardly think about nothing else. Direct quote.”
“Who’re they?”
“Old geezers. Nobody important. Would you like to try?”
He tossed his golf club over the fence, and it came down so close to her that she jumped aside in fright.
“Watch it! You almost hit me!”
“Just making sure you’re awake. It’s a six iron, perfect place to start.”
She dropped her golf ball and picked up the club, holding the grip experimentally, waving it like a baseball bat through the air. “Seems silly, trying to whack a ball with this,” she said.
On his side of the fence Derek retrieved another club from a bag lying on the ground. “You’re right, it is very silly,” he said. “Something for men of leisure to fill the empty days. That’s my excuse, anyway.”
She took a tentative swing at the ball in the grass at her feet and whiffed completely. She tried again, and missed again. On the third try she connected, and the ball popped up and tapped lightly against the fence.
“I hit it!” she exclaimed proudly.
“Good for you. Now you’re hooked. Are you holding the club properly?”
“Why is it called a club? It looks like a stick.”
“Just a minute.” From a tangle of junk in the back corner of his yard he extricated an old kitchen chair, the kind with a vinyl seat and chrome legs. He carried it to the fence and stood on it so he could look over the top and watch her. She had retrieved the ball and was preparing to whack it again, aiming at the fence, directly at him.
“Wait wait wait. I’m in the line of fire here,” he told her. “Turn so I can see you from the side. That’s the best way to advise you on your form. Aim toward your house.”
“I might hit a window.”
“Ha! I don’t think you have the biceps to do damage. Keep your hands close together. Choke up a little on the grip.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Never mind, just swing away.”
She gave it her best. Putting aside apprehension and doubt, and drawing on all the strength her girlish arms