Chapter five

Big red button

Thwack

Anna reeled back and swung. Her ball shot down the green, leapt over the first hill, bounced off the bricks at the end of the green at an odd angle, and flew out of hole 7 entirely. She watched with a grimace as it bounced along the walkway, then finally came to rest on the green of hole 8.

Elsa chuckled. "I guess that's why they call it a birdie," she said wryly.

Anna stuck her tongue out. "Just worry about your ball," she said as she went to retrieve hers.

Elsa stepped up to the hole and delicately placed her ball on the green. She teed up and delicately tapped it. The ball rolled halfway up the first ramp, then slid back down to where it started. She glanced up to make sure Anna was still busy picking up her own ball, then swung again a little harder. This time the ball made it up the ramp, then rolled about a third of the distance to the hole.

"All right, your turn again," she said innocently as Anna came back. Anna raised a suspicious eyebrow, but said nothing. The subterfuge was enough to force her to stifle a giggle, undercut though it was by the knowledge that she'd be counting both strokes anyway.

She leaned on her putter and looked around at the mostly empty mini golf course around them. They'd gambled on a chance of rain just to come out here, and so far it had paid off. The thick blanket of clouds above their heads had yet to make good on the weatherman's threats, and the risk of rain had kept most other people away. Except for a family of five they'd quickly pulled away from at the start, they mostly had the place to themselves.

Anna hit the ball again, more softly this time, although it still rocketed down the green, bounced off the far wall, and rolled back to near where Elsa's own ball had stopped. She groaned in frustration. "There's gotta be something to this," she said.

"Just be patient," Elsa said. "Take the time to learn how much power it takes to move the ball a certain distance." By way of demonstration, she tapped her own ball again, and it rolled towards the hole. It still stopped short, but within spitting distance this time.

"Huh," Anna said. She approached her ball, and this time she tried to mimic Elsa's stance and movements. The resulting swing sent the ball rolling gently across the green, and eventually right into the hole. Anna jumped. "I did it!" she exclaimed.

Elsa blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected Anna to see such results so quickly. "Sure did," she said. "Maybe I should've held off on the advice until hole 18."

"Yeah, well, sucks for you!" Anna exclaimed. Elsa couldn't help but chuckle at her sudden turnaround of mood.

"So cocky," she said as she tapped her own ball in. "I didn't have to deal with that when Mariella managed to-"

She froze. She felt her blood running cold.

Shit shit shit shit why did I say that name to her?

Anna turned to look at her, swiftly dashing any hopes that she might not have heard her. "Mariella?" she asked. "Who's that?"

In moments like these in the movies, time slowed to a crawl as the main character tried to talk their way out of whatever situation they had just stumbled into. Well, she goddamn wished that was how it worked. As it stood, she had approximately three seconds to come up with something to say. Anything other than the disgusting truth.

Well, she couldn't think of a lie that fast, so she went for plan B: pull on the handbrake, twist the wheel to the right, and change the fuck out of the subject.

"Yeah, I met her when I was visiting the Winchester house," Elsa said. "You ever heard of that place?"

Anna tilted her head. "No, I-"

"Well, you'd love it," Elsa said, taking out her phone. "I took some pictures, just look." As her phone loaded, she kept talking, not allowing a second of dead air. "It was built by this crazy old lady who thought there were ghosts coming after her, so she thought the only way to keep them busy was to just keep building her house nonstop."

She went on with her description, offering up all the information she could. Before long, the confusion faded from Anna's face, replaced with intrigue. She was a curious girl, and now Elsa had successfully diverted that curiosity away from Mariella. Soon the photos had appeared, and she showed them to Anna, safe in the knowledge that she had shifted all photos containing even a hint of the girl to a different folder. No telltale shock of red hair would give her away on this one.

As she spoke, her mind began to construct a fabrication for when the conversation inevitably returned to its original subject.

Oh yeah, Mariella Hutchinson, she worked for one of our clients. Our top brass would take her out to golf every now and again, and that's where I learned how to do it as well. Pretty crazy that I ran into her at the Winchester house, too. Stranger things happen at sea, as the saying goes.

"I'm surprised you took this many pictures," Anna said, bringing her back into the here and now.

"Yeah, I usually don't," Elsa said. "It was just such a cool place, I couldn't help it."

She'd sent most of the pictures to Mom to put in her scrapbook, but obviously that particular detail could be omitted right now.

"Yeah, it really does look cool," Anna said.

A few seconds passed, Anna staying silent as she presumably waited to see if Elsa had anything more to say. But with her story complete in her mind, there was no reason to continue the filibuster. She wasn't built for it, anyway.

"So, um, who was this Mariella girl you met there?" Anna asked after a bit.

Elsa inhaled. "Oh yeah, Mariella, she…" She trailed off. She coughed and tried again. "She's…" Again, she just couldn't get started.

Go ahead, say it. You made it, what, two full days without lying to her? That's practically a record for you.

But looking into Anna's sea-green eyes, she just couldn't do it. As she had so often in the past, she folded like cardboard under her sister's innocent gaze.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she said finally. "Not right now, at least. I'm sorry."

She studied Anna's face as she awaited a reply. She could see the curiosity bright and plain on her face – in fact, she was fairly certain that if she closed her eyes, she'd be able to feel it radiating off her in great waves. Yet after some time, and with reluctance, Anna said, "Okay, that's fine."

"I'll tell you eventually," Elsa pledged. "In a while."

This did seem to mollify Anna just a little bit, as she nodded and turned away. "Take your time," she said, beginning to walk towards hole 8.

Great, Elsa thought. Another promise to her, while your last one's still outstanding.

But she couldn't beat herself up too much this time. For at the end of the day, she had managed to avoid lying to Anna. Perhaps that language was a bit too active – she'd deferred to a later date, which was only half a step better than saying nothing at all – but still, she'd had her finger hovering over the big red button marked LIE, and she hadn't pressed it.

Of course, the best course of action would've been to not mention Mariella at all, but sure, if you start keeping track the second after you said her name, then yeah, great work.

She registered that Anna had taken her first putt on the next hole, so she prepared to take hers as well. She managed to clear her mind for the few seconds required to take a swing, and did surprisingly well, the ball bouncing off the corner of the track at just the right angle and ending up right next to the hole. Even Anna looked impressed.

The truth will set you free, or something like that. Though when the time comes to tell the rest of the story, I bet you won't feel so liberated.

Yeah, the longer she thought about it, the less she realized she had any reason to feel pride. She knew for a fact that in the coming days, she'd have plenty of opportunities to make much more of an ass of herself in front of Anna, so compared to that, a largely neutral outcome was alright by her. But she'd have to be more careful in the future. They'd been having a good time so far, and with a single careless word she'd brought that to a screeching halt.

"Yes! Eagle!"

Elsa glanced up. Anna had somehow managed to sink her ball on the second putt, and she raised her putter in triumph like a gladiator's sword. Elsa couldn't help but smile.

And just like that, she's moved the needle back to where we had been before I messed it up. How does she do that?

She started to applaud her, before containing herself and reducing it to a golf clap. The sight of Anna happy was just about enough to buoy her out of her own funk. She could take solace in the knowledge that inviting Anna to the golf course had clearly been a good idea, despite her own efforts to sabotage it.

On balance, I did good today. And I won't be able to say that every day, so I'd better relish it while I've got it.

As they neared the final holes, they began to hear thunder on the horizon. Anna nobly attempted to speed things up to save them both, so naturally her stroke count rose dramatically. Not that she had been remotely close to the lead, but she considered it a sacrifice nonetheless.

The first raindrops started to fall just as Anna sank her ball in the 18th hole. They jogged back to the front desk, handed in their putters, then sprinted to the car. They didn't make it out completely dry, but they weren't drenched either.

Then…came the drive home.

Anna felt her heart rate rising as they pulled out of the golf course parking lot and headed for the on ramp. Elsa didn't seem to pick up on this change in her demeanor, which was good – 100% concentration on the road was exactly what Anna wanted to see out of her.

This was her own fault, really. Elsa had told her they'd have to do a little highway driving, which she had claimed she could handle. Elsa had also warned her that it might rain, as part of a different topic entirely. It was Anna herself that had failed to put these two pieces of information together. So as they got onto the highway and their visibility rapidly decreased, Anna knew she had only herself to blame for the anxiety rising in her chest.

Nothing's gonna happen. It's fine. Elsa's a great driver. There aren't even any semis on the road here, anyway.

All valid points, she knew, and yet one hand gripped the door handle while the other gently touched the scar on her forehead. She couldn't stop either of them, two nervous habits that had rapidly metastisized in the last few days.

Normally, she would suppress these nervous thoughts with chatter, filling the dead air with idle conversation. But again, distracting Elsa would only heighten her own anxiety. Instead, she turned inward, searching for some topics to divert herself with. Thanks to Elsa, she still had a surplus of those.

Who could this Mariella person be? Obviously she had to be someone Elsa had dated, or at least wanted to date – nothing else would make her so reluctant to talk about it. Yet she hadn't mentioned the name once in their talks or texts before, never mind introduced her as she had promised. So it couldn't have gone too far, yet it must've been far enough for her to leave some kind of scar. And if those two facts didn't line up, that rather kneecapped the investigation right at the starting block. She simply couldn't fathom what was going on in Elsa's head.

But then, that's always been the problem, hasn't it?

She looked over at Elsa, whose attention was fully consumed by the road. Anna knew her own silence wouldn't be picked up by Elsa as out of the ordinary, even though it was. She'd tried giving Elsa the silent treatment on long car trips in the past, only for Elsa to fail to realize anything was different whatsoever. She was closed off, her mind an impenetrable vault, one which Anna would've done anything to get a peek into.

Many, many nights, she'd sat up late, trying to look at Elsa the way Elsa saw her. The question had gnawed at her ever since her departure. Even years later, she'd made little progress. It wasn't even that the idea revolted her, it was more that she simply could not envision it. First, she'd thought of the two men she'd been with and tried to replace them in her mind with Elsa. Then later, she'd repeated the experiment with the people she'd merely fantasized about being with. Every time, her imagination stopped at first base and refused to go further. It was quite literally inconceivable to her – she might as well try to picture two of her old stuffed animals going at it. And yet, that was apparently the way Elsa saw her. So she tried, time and again, to get past whatever mental barrier was in her way, to just put herself in Elsa's shoes, to see the world through her eyes.

Because if I can't do that, how can I even begin to forgive her?