Training Harry

by Meghan Namaste

  She rocked back in surprise. “What are you afraid of?”

  I ran my fingernails down my scalp, making thin lines of dull pain. “I’m afraid she’ll say no. That she doesn’t feel the same.”

  Amber’s face softened. She crept forward, tenderly caressing my arm. “You don’t need to be afraid of that, Lawrence. Because she loves you too.”

  I couldn’t look at Amber. I was burning up. “How do you know?”

  “It’s obvious. You just can’t tell because your perception is skewed. But I know she does. Why do you think she’s still coming here?”

  “Harry,” I said in a dull voice. “She’s coming here to train Harry.”

  Amber shook her head. “Erica loves Harry, I know she does. But she loves you more.”

  I stared at the bedspread. I was overwhelmed. “Erica’s not in love with me, Amber. She’s smart. Sensible.”

  “Plenty of smart, sensible women have fallen for you.”

  “Yeah. For a day. An hour.” I wanted to leave so badly. I just wanted to get away.

  Amber studied my face intently. Her hand was still on my arm. “You really believe this won’t work out. And I don’t understand why,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re so sure you’ll be rejected if you even try. When have you ever been rejected?”

  Slowly I raised my eyes. “Only when it counted.”

  Amber’s eyes widened. Her face went slack. “Oh, my God. Are you talking about me?” She moved about wildly for a moment, sending ripples of movement over the mattress. Finally she snatched my hand and held it.

  “Do you think I wanted to reject you, Lawrence? Do you know how much better my life would be if I could’ve said yes to you?” Amber shook her head for a moment. A line came out on her forehand. “Look, I know I’ve said some horrible things to you. I get that. But the reason I’m so critical when you act like a fuckhead is because I know how great you are. It frustrates me when you pull that shit. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are a kind and generous and wonderful person. You are. You’re my best friend, Lawrence, and I love you.”

  I wanted to let her words make me feel better, but I didn’t feel like I deserved to feel better. “It’s not just you, Amber. Every time I’ve had possible real feelings for someone, I’ve totally screwed it up.”

  “You won’t screw it up this time,” Amber said.

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because this time it’s right.” Amber looked in my downcast eyes. “Look, I know you have quite a history with women. I know you’ve been fucking your way through the whole universe for a while now. But I don’t buy that you can’t change. I don’t buy that you can’t commit.”

  She was talking with passion, and it made me look up.

  “When Eloise broke down, you left the IPC. You left your dream, and you loaded up that mare and drove eight hundred miles back home. That was one hell of a commitment, don’t you think?” Amber had a challenging look in her eyes. “You went from never having seen a horse to playing high goal polo in less than six years. I don’t think the rules apply to you.”

  Amber stood up and left the bed. “Think about what I said. I’m here if you need me.”

  Erica

  D.M.’s breath softly warmed the top of my head. I sat on the concrete floor outside his stall, balancing my checkbook. The balance dropped steeply as I went along, and I stared at the dwindling numbers I held in my hand. I really need more business.

  I laid down the little check marks until I reached the end, when I stuffed the crinkled and worn checkbook back into my pocket. I let my head flop back, and it hit the stall door lightly. The pocket of my jeans buzzed to life.

  I hauled out my cell phone and flipped it open. “Hello?” I said wearily.

  “It’s Maggie,” the voice on the other end said impatiently.

  “Hi, Maggie.” I smiled a bit. “What’s up?”

  “Let me talk to her, dear,” a muffled third person cut in.

  “No, Mom.” Maggie gave a little impertinent huff. “Anyway, my mom has this crazy idea. She wants me to compete in this show, and she wants you to help me.”

  I sat up. “What kind of show? When?”

  “It’s this Saturday. It’s a jumping show,” Maggie articulated.

  I shook my head. “No, Maggie. I’m sorry, but I was clear on this. You’re not ready to jump quite yet.”

  I was about to go on, but Maggie started yelling. “I told you, Mom, I’m not ready for jumping yet! I have to be proficient in the canter first!”

  I snorted hard. Good one, Maggie, I thought warmly. My star pupil.

  Mrs. Allsteen was working herself into a lather. “But, dear, I don’t understand why you couldn’t start jumping now, when you’re doing so well with your galloping…”

  I could almost hear Maggie roll her eyes. “Flatwork is important, Mom.” Mrs. Allsteen grew quieter, and I realized Maggie was walking away. “Sorry about that,” she said. “My mom really wants me to show. For some reason.”

  I paused, thinking. Mrs. Allsteen probably was eager to see her daughter win. It was going to be difficult to keep her satisfied with Maggie’s improvements if they weren’t “proven” somehow. Maggie had confidence and a seasoned pony to ride. It wouldn’t hurt or even stress her overtly to go to a show.

  I felt the paper-light weight of my checkbook against my thigh. If Maggie went to a show, I would have to accompany her and coach her through the day. I could charge outrageously for that. The ribbon-eager Allsteens would happily hand over the cash.

  “Maggie,” I said. “How would you like to go to that show?”

  “I thought I couldn’t jump!”

  “You can’t. But you can ride in the flat classes. It’ll be good practice, and you can show what you’ve learned.” Please go for it, kid…

  “Okay,” Maggie chirped. “You’ll be there, right?”

  “I sure will,” I said. Are you kidding?

  “Great. Thanks, Erica.” Maggie’s feet thudded in my ear. “Mom, what are you doing? I said NO JUMPING!”

  I listened to the ensuing scuffle and smiled.

  Lawrence

  I stepped outside. The air was still and heavy. The horses stood with their heads low, kicking at the swarming flies. I quickly took pity on Elle and Soiree and led them to the barn, grasping a halter with each hand. I let them into their stalls and cranked up the fans. They would be comfortable in the barn, and they wouldn’t be stressing their newly healed fractures.

  I left the cool darkness of the barn and looked around the yard. Nothing had changed. Nothing had moved. I lacked ambition. I thought about going back into the house and doing nothing for a while longer. It seemed like a good day for that.

  I remembered that Maude was behind the barn, in full sunlight with no cover. I’d better check on her. I walked quickly to the hidden paddock, but I didn’t see Maude. I looked back and forth stupidly. It slowly registered that there was nowhere for her to hide in that paddock. No way for her to be out of sight. She just wasn’t there. I let a few obscenities hiss through my teeth.

  I quickly covered all the ground that I owned (or rented, whatever) without success. But Maude was an independent mare and she had no reason to stay within my property lines. She was probably stuffing her face in somebody’s hay field by now. Thanks, Maude. People love that.

  I turned in the direction of the field, and I stopped in mid-step. Maude was picking her way through the maple trees on the border of my yard. Amber was on her back, holding the reins lightly. She saw me, grinned and rode up to me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I blurted.

  “Riding Maude,” Amber chirped. “I was really bored, and I know you won’t let me ride your ponies, and Maude was just standing around so I thought I’d try.” She scratched Maude’s shark fin withers. “I think she just doesn’t like you, because she was great for me. Weren’t you, Maudie? You were a good Maudie.”

  I watched them a moment. Maude still looked kind of
indifferent, but Amber seemed really happy. “Well, that’s good,” I said. “I was just about to go looking all over the county for her, so it’s good you showed up when you did,” I added.

  “Well, jeez,” Amber snorted. “I didn’t think you cared that much.” She dropped her stirrups and swung off, landing lightly. “C’mon, Maude.”

  I followed them into the barn, where Amber halted Maude in the aisle and swiftly untacked her, leaving the equipment in a pile. I picked it all up and put it away while Amber brushed Maude. When I came out of the tack room, Amber glanced at me. “You’re being overly helpful. And you’re hovering.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No.” Amber bent down to smooth Maude’s hair where the girth had been. “I’m just waiting to find out why.”

  I hesitated. And then I pushed through it. “I need a favor.”

  Amber swung her head around. “What?”

  “You’re gonna think it’s stupid. And you’re not gonna want to do it. But it’s important to me.”

  “What?” Amber pressed.

  “I need you to look through Erica’s truck. I need you to find out what CDs she has, what her stations are. I need to know if we’re musically compatible.”

  Amber straightened up and whirled to face me. “You cannot be serious. This…this is bullshit! I’m not going through her truck, for fuck’s sake! This is psychotic insane craziness.”

  I raised my hands. “Okay, I knew you were going to say that. But you have to see where I’m coming from. You were there, Amber. All those fights over Lady Gaga, because I hate her music and you have to listen to her all the time…it wasn’t good, Amber. I know it’s just a little thing, and it’s not supposed to be important and all that, but I think it is.” I shrugged weakly.

  Amber was eyeing me. “Alright. Maybe you have a point. Maybe it’s not all that stupid. But you know how you can get this important information? You say ‘What kind of music do you listen to?’ It’s a very common and benign conversation topic. I think you can handle it.”

  I averted my eyes. “I know. I just…when I think about saying that to her, it sounds so stupid. I don’t…I don’t know how to talk to her.”

  “You talk to her all the time!” Amber protested.

  I shook my head. “We talk about horses, Amber. That’s why I can talk to her. Because it’s about horses.”

  Amber stared at me. “You really don’t know how to do this,” she said, shaking her head.

  I kind of smiled in what even I could tell was a very sad way.

  “It’s like you’ve spent so long just sticking it in that you’re clueless now. This is way over your head. It’s not even funny,” Amber said, and she didn’t laugh. She was quiet for a second, and something seemed to change in her face. “Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I will rummage around in Erica’s truck like a fucking crazy stalker. I’ll do it for you, Lawrence, you moron.”

  Amber

  This is stupid. This is really fucking stupid.

  I was in Erica’s truck, sitting there mentally planning out this dumb “favor”. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should have made him be a big boy and fucking do it himself. Why did I feel sorry for him? Now I was enabling him. I was an enabler. I hate enablers.

  Erica was steering through downtown, chattering animatedly about something. I stopped my inner diatribe for a second to listen.

  “I’m so glad we could do this again,” Erica was saying. She looked over at me when she said it and her truck drifted noticeably toward the curb.

  “Yeah,” I said in agreement. “I think we both just need to get out every so often and blow a bunch of money on hellacious desserts. For our sanity.”

  Erica laughed. “I totally agree.” She looked through the windshield again and swerved away from the looming curb.

  “It’s just nice to hang out with someone who doesn’t go into a restaurant and order a handful of spinach leaves on a plate,” Erica said. Her voice was light but there was a little tension behind the words.

  “Your friends are health nut types?” I asked.

  “Well, Jennifer definitely. I don’t see Ashley much anymore, but she doesn’t worry much about that. She can eat whatever she wants and it doesn’t seem to affect her.”

  “Huh.” I slouched in my seat, overtly aware of the sharpness of my elbow and collarbone. I didn’t want to make it worse.

  Erica looked ahead. Soon she made a quick turn into a parking place and braked jarringly. “Alright. We’re here.”

  Oh, crap. “You go in,” I said rapidly. “Surprise me. I know you’ll pick something fabulous.”

  “Okay,” Erica said cheerfully. “You sure?”

  “Oh yeah,” I ad libbed. “I have this really long text I have to respond to. It’s, like, twelve messages long.”

  “Jeez! Hate those wordy texters!” Erica slammed the door behind her.

  I scrambled out of my seat belt, whirling and landing on the seat with my knees. Quickly I crawled over to the drivers side and found the lever. I ducked, but the seat still hit me in the head. Cursing Lawrence and his stupid fear of rejection or whatever, I dove for the CD case that lay on the floor. I zipped it open and rifled through it. Names registered. Bruce Springsteen. Fleetwood Mac. Heart. Bob Seger. Heart. Ew, ew, ew, ew. I dug around for something current without success. Eventually it was grossing me out too much and I zipped up the case and threw it back.

  I looked around wildly for Erica. She hadn’t emerged from Indulgence yet, so I shoved the seat back up and returned to my search. I shifted the key in the ignition and flicked on the radio. It was on 96.6, classic rock (“Because classics rock!”). Gross. I whacked the knob hard and it shut off.

  The CD at the ready in her visor was Heart’s greatest hits. I moved slowly back to my seat and waited for Erica. While I sat there I saw something in my floor well. I wasn’t really interested in whatever the hell it was, but something drew me in anyway.

  It was a shopping list. I leaned forward and the words assembled themselves. It was the typical stuff people buy. Bread, milk, packaged dead meat, toaster pastries, blah blah blah. For some reason I kept reading it all the way to the end. The last thing was down in a corner, almost hidden, but jubilantly scrawled.

  Cookies ‘n cream crunch.

  Lawrence

  “You’re kidding.” I stared at Amber, almost numb. “You’re serious?”

  “I couldn’t make it up if I wanted to.” Amber shook her head. “I could never dream that big.”

  I stayed right where I was. I couldn’t move or even twitch, but fireworks were going off in my head.

  “And that’s not all,” Amber said, eyes alight. “I went through all her music, and I was thoroughly disgusted.”

  My heart leapt. I felt like I was straining on tiptoe. “No Lady Gaga?”

  “No Lady Gaga. Nothing even close. The only post-80s album she has is late Springsteen.” Amber let that hum in the air. She was fighting a smile.

  I stood there, buffeted by soaring emotion. “So, she…”

  “She hates processed pop music and she loves your processed sugar death cereal.” Amber laid the words down neatly.

  I smiled. I could not remember happiness like this.

  “This is the last time I’m helping you, though,” Amber warned. “You have to do this yourself. You just have to find a way.”

  I nodded. I would think about that later. Right now I only wanted to feel like this.

  Erica

  Maggie was decked out in miniature tall boots and cream colored breeches that appeared brand new. Her hunt coat was crisply tailored and the billowing stock tie at her neck was fastened with a large pin that looked like costume jewelry, but I knew the diamonds and rubies had to be real. Her blonde hair was under a net and a black velvet-covered helmet was subbing for her usual bright pink sparkly one. She was in full makeup. I looked down at her unnaturally red lips and heavy mascara and was reminded of child beauty pageants. At least she’s not
wearing a sequined string bikini.

  “Very nice, ah, turnout, Maggie,” I said.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I told her the mascara was too much.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured her. “The judges are only looking at how you ride.”

  “Then how come everybody dresses up?”

  I glanced out at the uniformed riders milling about. “Turnout is about respect and pride.” After a moment, I admitted, “And showing how much money you have.”

  Maggie snorted. “Well, I must have the best turnout here.”

  Juan came up at that moment leading Twinkle. I blinked at the utter shininess of the pony’s coat. The saddle leather glowed, and his D-ring bit left spots in my vision.

  “Wow,” I said. “Were you up all night, Juan? I have never seen a pony turned out that well.”

  Juan blinked at me in shock, then looked down at the ground. He was actually blushing.

  “I helped,” Maggie butted in.

  “She did, actually,” said Juan. “Maggie gave Twinkle a bath and then polished all the silver.”

  “Well, excellent job, both of you.” I smiled.

  “You should start warming up now, Maggie,” Juan said, handing her the pony’s reins. “Your class is next.”

  “Thanks, Juan,” I said as Maggie took off at a run for the warm-up ring with Twinkle trotting behind her. Jeez, I wonder if they’d let me borrow him for my next show.

  Holding that thought, I hurried after Maggie, who was struggling with the gate. I caught up with her. “Maggie. Wrong warm-up ring. The short stirrup ring is over there.”

  Maggie looked at me, disgusted. “I don’t wanna warm up with little kids.”

  “Do you want to get run over by some adult on a seventeen hand Warmblood? Or piss off some big-time trainer who can get you banned from the show circuit?”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll warm up with the kids.”

  I got her to the right ring and let her in the gate. “Now, there are a few rules you need to follow. Pass left to left, stay off the rail if you’re going slow, don’t cut people off, and watch out for people who don’t follow the rules.”