Training Harry

by Meghan Namaste

  I couldn’t even work the horses. I couldn’t ride. I was too on edge, my nerves too raw. So I stayed away from them. I was in an awful sort of limbo, and there was nothing I could do.

  A motor sounded in my head. My adrenaline kicked in and I stared out the window. I saw a flash of green paint out front, then a door slammed. I stopped breathing and waited.

  Erica came through the door, and my chest tightened up. Her eyes, her face, her everything, it all twisted my heart. She walked up to me. I couldn’t read her. She was so close now, and I just wanted to be able to smell her, hold her and touch her. I didn’t move. I stared at her. Please. Don’t say it was a mistake.

  A few beats went by. Erica looked at me. “How’s Harry?” she said.

  “I already worked him today.” This was not true, but I felt a need to say it.

  “Good.” Erica marched up to me and took me in her arms. I melted into her, weak with relief, struggling out of my clothes. We sank onto the floor, not even making it to the bed, and made love feverishly, loudly. We kept going for a long time, even with the urgent pace, with Erica ever more responsive to my touch.

  When it was finally over I rolled onto my back, wanting to feel her weight on me. We both struggled for breath for a minute, and then Erica lifted her head and shifted, sliding a little on the slick sweat on my chest. I caught her gently with one arm.

  “So,” I said. “Does it get better?”

  She smiled almost lazily. “Oh, yes.”

  I grinned happily. “It’ll keep getting better,” I promised.

  Erica laid her head down next to mine. “You just…you’re amazing. It’s like you always know what to do.” She was quiet for a second. “I know I don’t add a lot. I don’t know much. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I moved my arm slightly, stroking her hair. “You don’t have to know anything, Erica,” I said quietly.

  Erica

  I pushed through the trees and I stepped out onto the field, where Lawrence had told me to meet him. My heart was beating strongly. I felt it and I could almost hear it too.

  I stood there, the stems of grass softly buffeting my legs. I looked around for him, sort of feeling him somewhere in the distance before he came over a small hill. He was riding Harry.

  He rode up to me. Harry walked swiftly, his muscles sliding over the bone. He was fit. The very shafts of hair glowed on him. He looked polished. I looked up at Lawrence, smiling, knowing something was about to happen. The air stilled expectantly.

  He smiled in that slightly shy way that made me even more in love with him. “I have something to show you,” he said. “I wanted you to see it before, but I was afraid you would stop coming here.”

  I started to speak, but my eyes fell to his right hand, where he held a worn, gleaming mallet. His leg brushed Harry’s side.

  Harry leapt straight to a gallop in a deliberate, effortless explosion of movement. The gust of wind he left behind slapped me and left me almost stumbling. I watched as he circled me, roaring down hills, disappearing and charging back. At times I heard only the quiet thunder of Harry’s hooves and the echoing crack of the mallet striking the ball.

  Harry was an athlete. He was a machine. He was unfettered joy. At the speed they were going, it should have looked reckless. Harry should have slipped, or scrambled to regain his footing when he dove down a hill, straight for the ball. I could feel the danger, and I knew it was there. But Harry’s every step seemed calculated. There was precision in everything he did. He seemed to measure the distance, the angle, the slope and unevenness of the footing. He seemed to know.

  Harry’s body was built for this game. His athleticism, his quickness, his hard bone and lean muscle gave him the power, the ability to do this. But he had never been able to do this before. Now his mind was working. The energy wasn’t ricocheting out of control. It was channeled and positive. Harry wasn’t struggling for a way out. His fear wasn’t in control now. Harry was.

  Suddenly Lawrence stopped Harry, stopped him right in front of me. They both turned to look at me. I had no air in my lungs. I was shaking, almost crying.

  I walked up to them, still unable to speak. I wrapped my arms around Harry’s head. He let me. I looked up at Lawrence and just shook my head. Smiled and shook my head.

  “He’s…” I started and found I couldn’t finish.

  Lawrence shrugged. “He’s Harry.” He patted Harry’s shoulder fondly and stepped down. “And you made him, Erica.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t make him. You can’t make all this.”

  Lawrence smiled. “I guess not,” he said. “But you made me not throw him away. You saved him.”

  I couldn’t talk anymore after that. Lawrence gave me his helmet, I mounted up and Harry carried me through the field, walking softly through the tall grass. I knew I couldn’t ride him. Not really. Not anymore. But he was generous and kind and I walked him until he was cool, feeling the smooth undulation of his movement as his legs scissored through the grass. The power was still there, just under the surface, not currently in use. In a horse like Harry it was always there.

  Lawrence

  We lay in bed, still and quiet. I felt like I could just settle into the warmth of her body and never move again. Time went by, but I didn’t feel it leave or think about it.

  Suddenly Erica’s head jerked up. “Shit.” She rolled off the bed, feeling through the pile of clothes. “I’ve gotta go. I have to give Maggie a lesson.” She stood up, half dressed. “She gives me a hard time if I’m late.”

  I moved onto my side and watched her struggle with her bra. “Just tell her your other client was keeping you.”

  She glanced at me and smiled. “I don’t really think you’re my client anymore.”

  “I guess not.” I smirked as she threw a shirt on.

  Erica turned to face me. “Okay. I’m going.” She was still fairly close, and I reached out and took her hand. She fell into me without complaint. I kissed her, and I meant for it to be brief but it didn’t work out that way. I just kept going and thought about never stopping. Erica wriggled closer. I felt every move she made, right down to my groin.

  Finally she pulled back. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “Why do you keep doing that to me?” She backed away slowly, still not taking her eyes off me.

  I sat up quickly. “You could cancel on the kid,” I suggested desperately.

  Erica rolled her eyes. “I’m not canceling on the kid.” She ducked her head to kiss me, swiftly retreating before my tongue could settle into her mouth. “I’ll see you later,” she said as she headed out the door.

  I flopped back onto the mattress and thought about going it alone. Nah. I’ll save it up for later. I put my clothes on and went outside instead. I considered long lining Soiree and Elle. I hadn’t done that yet today.

  I heard gravel shifting around, and I turned. Mandy was sauntering up my driveway. I stared at her, more than surprised. She hadn’t spoken to me since our last heated conversation. I waited to hear what she had to say.

  Mandy halted. She actually hesitated. I saw reluctance in her. Then she just came out with it. “So. Is it the horse trainer?”

  “Is she what?” I asked. This conversation made me nervous, especially since I knew my brain was still weighed down with sex pheromones.

  “Your something more.” Mandy looked to the side.

  I felt the smile on my face. “Yes.”

  Mandy clouded over. “Well, isn’t that nice,” she snapped. She stormed off.

  “Mandy,” I called out.

  “What,” Mandy said, still not looking at me.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I said awkwardly. “Back then.”

  Mandy gave a short laugh. “I don’t give a shit about you ending things, Cavanaugh.”

  “Oh,” I said, taken aback. “You just…you seem angry.”

  Mandy started walking back to her house. “I lost a bet,” she said over her shoulder.

  Erica

  “You’re late,�
�� Maggie announced. She was looking up at me from her and Twinkle’s combined height. Twinkle stared me down from beneath his forelock.

  I didn’t offer a response. “Did you get your warm-up in?”

  “I got lots of stuff in,” Maggie said. “You’re very, very late.”

  I rolled my eyes a little. “Okay, yes. I’m sorry. But I’m here now, so let’s get started, please.”

  “Where were you?” Maggie wanted to know. “What were you doing, anyway?”

  I felt like she’d turned a floodlight on me. “Maggie. It doesn’t matter. But if it’ll make you shut up, I was with a client.”

  Maggie’s eyes got very small and beady. “You said people shouldn’t lie.”

  I gaped at her. I struggled with my words for a while. “The truth…is not appropriate for you to hear,” I finally stammered.

  Maggie’s little eyebrows jumped up. “Were you having sex?”

  My mouth fell open. “Maggie! NO!” I just about screamed. “I wasn’t, okay? Just….no!” My voice was hysterical, so I shut up and proceeded to twitch and fidget around for at least half a minute, proving my lie more effectively than a polygraph.

  Maggie watched and waited patiently for me to stop freaking out. “You don’t have to lie about that,” she said, looking almost bored. “My parents have HBO. I’ve been watching True Blood since I was five.”

  I stared at her. “Oh, God.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You should really watch more TV. It makes everything seem like much less of a big deal.”

  I shook my head in horror. “Okay. Let’s just focus on riding.” I fumbled for my lesson plan. “Let’s try a trot serpentine. Three loops. Make sure to change your diagonal every time, and plan your turns.”

  Maggie trotted off on Twinkle. I watched her go back and forth, and she then halted before me. “Very nice,” I said. “Your bend changes are still a little abrupt, so you need to work on that.”

  Maggie nodded and clucked to Twinkle. She went through the exercise a few times, and I saw improvement.

  “Yes!” I called out. “Very good. Now prepare to pick up the canter in a corner.”

  Maggie sat the trot lightly, drove Twinkle a bit more forward, and he made a nice transition into the canter. The small pony bounced along the rail, ears forward. “Circle on this end,” I instructed. “Twenty meters. Don’t let him lean in. Straighten and ride forward if you lose the balance.”

  I watched as Twinkle circled me. Maggie stayed centered on his back and rode a nice, round figure. “Good job,” I said. “Now slow your seat and trot. Try to keep him from rushing in the first trot strides. And don’t rush your posting, either.”

  I saw Maggie nod, and she braced her back, arresting Twinkle’s movement. He fell softly into the trot. Maggie was becoming adept at processing my instructions, even when several came at once. I didn’t feel too bad for mentally overloading her. Riding was difficult. There was a lot going on, all the time. There was a lot to think about and even more to feel. Maggie was developing focus. She was working hard to get it right. I watched her little face as she rode by at a trot. She just looked so different. Maggie didn’t resemble a kid when she was in the saddle. Something happened. Something changed in her. I watched her, and thought that if she kept this up she was going to be something one of these years.

  When the lesson ended I walked to the stable with Maggie. Twinkle lagged behind, calmed by the work and the midday sun. She put him in the cross ties and untacked him. After brushing him a while she turned back to me. “Do you want your money?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said agreeably.

  Maggie searched through her pocket, extricating a hundred, which she handed to me. “I’ll just pay you for this time and next,” she said, returning to her pony. “I don’t have any small bills.”

  “Okay,” I said. I was starting to find Maggie’s inflated allowance less disturbing now that I knew about her TV preferences.

  Maggie looked up from Twinkle’s cannon bone. “So is it the boy?” she asked.

  I looked at her blankly.

  Maggie shook her head in impatience. “You know, the boy? The one who made you cry?”

  “Oh,” I said. I thought back. “Yes.”

  “Why would you wanna be with him?” Maggie asked warily. “He doesn’t sound very nice.”

  I smiled slightly. “He didn’t do anything to hurt me, Maggie. I just thought he didn’t like me the way I liked him, and it made me really sad.”

  “But you were wrong.”

  “Yeah. I guess I was,” I said happily.

  Maggie picked up Twinkle’s hoof and inspected it. “Does he know how to ride?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I told her. “He’s an amazing rider.”

  Maggie let Twinkle set his hoof down and went back to brushing him. She didn’t ask any more questions. She was contented. I leaned against the smooth oak paneling and watched her with a smile on my face. It was beautiful, I thought, how she was so reassured. In Maggie’s estimation, in her world, the ability to ride was the finest measurement of a person’s worthiness. And maybe, quite possibly, she wasn’t wrong.

  Lawrence

  Eloise moved out ahead of me, head bowed. We both concentrated on every step. I watched the movement of her hind legs closely, maybe obsessively. The left hind reached forward, touched down and lifted her back up, and I saw no sign of weakness. She moved on it surely, as if there was a steel rod running through it. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust that leg at all. Each time it met the ground I expected her to jerk it back up and hobble away. I braced for the splintering crack. I didn’t even hear it, when it happened that day, but it still played in my head.

  I still didn’t breathe when I worked her. Elle was getting fitter and stronger every day and I was still terrified. I wondered if I would ever stop being afraid. How long would she have to thrive before I believed it? At what point could I stop thinking of her as almost being dead?

  I stretched the session out another minute, as I had been doing all this time, and reined Elle in. I patted her and turned her back out. I felt the usual, sudden exhaustion hit me.

  I was almost to the porch railing. I heard a weak engine, looked up and saw a navy blue Chevy truck, rusted down below and crumpled at the edges. Wilson jerked it into park and cut the engine, and the truck fell into rest.

  Wilson shut the door and walked straight up to me. “Cavanaugh. There you are.”

  “Wilson,” I said. “What brings you out here?”

  Wilson looked at me almost irritably. His face was tight. “I wanted to see if you were still alive, Cavanaugh.”

  My eyebrows raised. “Why, what’ve you heard?”

  “Nothing.” Wilson shook his head, making a dismissive hand gesture. “I’ve heard nothing. Not a damn thing, Cavanaugh. I always get to hear about what you did, or who you pissed off, or who you’re sleeping with this minute. And then all of a sudden, nothing. It made me uneasy. So I came out here to see if you were still among the living.”

  I was without speech for a minute. “Um, wow. I’m sorry. I uh, didn’t know you cared…” I trailed off and looked downward. I knew this shouldn’t feel like such a big deal to me. But the last time I disappeared, no one came looking for me.

  Wilson shook his head at me. “’Course I care,” he muttered. He rolled his eyes.

  I hauled myself together. “Well, I’m doing fine, Wilson,” I said. “Better than fine, actually.”

  “Huh.” Wilson glanced around. “So what’s been keeping you under the radar, Cavanaugh?”

  I thought on that for a second. I had to think, because what was different to Wilson was normal to me now. “Well, I’ve been training hard, for one thing. I’ve got two functioning ponies now, so I’ve been hitting the field hard.” I paused. “And I’m rehabbing two more horses.”

  Wilson nodded, looking pleased. Then he seemed to realize something was missing. “There’s no girl?”

  Wilson didn’t ask me anything else, he ju
st looked at me. That was all he had to do. I could feel how my face was. I couldn’t think about her without reacting that way. It was impossible to hide how in love with her I was, and I didn’t care if Wilson saw. I didn’t care if everyone saw.

  I smiled. “Oh, there’s a girl.”

  Erica

  My feet pattered down the stairs. Through the front window, the sun was emerging. I had keys in my hand and I moved quickly for the door. My body was alight, not quite grounded. I had no itinerary ahead of me, no ambitious plan. I only wanted to drive straight to Lawrence’s. To be with him in the new daylight.

  Snap, snap, snap on the floor behind me. “Erica! Wait just a minute, please.”

  My feet ground to a stop. I thought a string of four-letter words. “What, Mom?” I said.

  My mother clacked up to me. Her stilettos were hidden underneath a nautical-striped maxi dress. “I just wanted to talk to you about something,” she said eagerly.

  I glared. “Okay,” I acquiesced. “But make it quick. I have appointments.”

  “Of course,” my mother hastily agreed. Then she smiled and beamed at me, wasting several seconds.

  Eventually, she got to the point. “I just wanted to talk to you, because I couldn’t help but notice something’s different,” she explained. “You’ve been gone so much lately. You’re hardly ever home. And you just seem so…happy.” She looked at me tenderly. “And I just want you to know that I will support you, no matter what. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, Erica.”

  “Um,” I said, wondering where this was going. “Thanks, Mom. That’s…nice of you.”

  She held up a hand, so apparently she wasn’t done. “I mean it, Erica. Don’t ever think you have to hide anything from me. I know we’re Catholic, dear, but let’s face it, we go to church three times a year at best.” She kind of smiled. “So if you’ve found a nice girl, know that I support you fully.”