The small crowd that was watching clapped, but I only cared about Chris, who was by the in-gate. Maybe Jamie was watching. Probably not. She only wanted to see me fail. Still, she’d hear how well I’d done.
On the walk back to my stalls I saw Jed on his junior hunter. I planned to look away and just keep walking, pretending not to notice him, but he motioned to me to wait for him. When he reached me, he said, “Congrats, wow!”
I waited for him to make some joke—from zero to hero or something like that. Instead he said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”
“Loyalty first, I guess I get it,” I said.
“If you understand then you’re a pretty amazing person.” Jed met my gaze. “I should have told you, me of all people.”
I knew what he meant but it didn’t much matter now. What was done was done.
“Good luck at Tufts,” he said.
“Good luck at NYU,” I told him. “And at the finals. Are you still going to ride after you’re done?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. We’re selling this guy.” Jed patted his horse. “My eq horse is a lease. Maybe I’ll get a jumper and do the A/Os. I don’t have any firm plans.”
“Me neither,” I said.
Chapter 39
Backcountry was packed. People lined the walls, the bar, the dance floor. Chris and I had decided to go—one last night out, one final appearance.
“I’ve never seen it like this, ever,” I said.
Chris leaned close, but he still had to shout for me to hear him. “It’s the last day. Everybody’s here to celebrate, or drown their sorrows. It’s like this every year.”
The way Chris explained it made it all seem so final. The last day. The last night of the summer. The last time we’d be together?
As the bartender poured our drinks, I looked out over the room at the pool table where I’d seen Chris play that first night.
We sat with Paul and Danny. Danny asked Chris what was next for him.
“Headed home with just the two. I’m gonna see what’s what and go from there.” Chris still hadn’t figured out Arkos, but maybe he would. And maybe Logan would continue to show promise. Maybe he could get them going well by Florida and people would see him and consider giving him their horses to train, or ride with him themselves. Maybe he’d develop a training stable. He was a great teacher, that much was clear, but I knew in his heart he wanted to ride more than teach.
“Sorry, man,” Danny said.
Chris shrugged. “Ups and downs. Part of the life, right?”
“I’ll drink to that.” Danny raised his glass and so did Paul.
I could tell Chris was trying to act strong and that the status of his career upset and worried him more than he let on. “You headed to HITS?” Chris asked.
“Yup. MB’s back. She’s coming with a few. Landon is coming.”
Her name hung there. MB. I hated that she had a cute nickname. Of course she was coming home. She couldn’t stay in Europe forever. I tried to gauge what Chris was thinking about her, whether she still mattered to him. You didn’t go from seriously dating a person to feeling nothing for them, just like that. I wasn’t exactly an expert in relationships—far from it—but even I knew that. Chris and she had been together for a long time. Even if it felt like longer, we’d only been together a matter of weeks. And now I’d be gone, and MB would be around.
My cheeks felt hot. I didn’t want thoughts of MB to ruin this last night. I didn’t want all the thoughts I’d been pushing away of what would happen between me and Chris after I left the show swirling around in my head. But there they were. And Mary Beth was a big part of them.
I picked up my drink and instead of sipping it like I usually did, I gulped it down, even though the back of my throat stung as I did. My head felt nearly immediately blurry, and somehow clearer of all my doubts and fears at the same time. This is why people get drunk, I thought to myself. This works. At least temporarily.
Danny got us all another round and I drank the next one quickly too. Chris shot me a sideways glance and I told him it was the last night and I was just living a little. But that wasn’t what I was doing at all.
He frowned at me and I looked away to avoid talking about it anymore. Later, I decided I better see how drunk I really was and if I could walk. I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
My first few steps I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I thought about turning back, but then I stabilized and felt better. I went to the bathroom and leaned over the sink. I let the cold water run over my hands and then pressed my cool hands to my forehead. I didn’t want to be drunk and ruin my last night with Chris. I breathed deeply, picked up my head again, and looked in the mirror. My cheeks and ears were red. What the hell was I doing?
There was rustling behind me and I turned around to face the bank of stalls. I had thought I was the only one in the bathroom, a narrow three-staller with dim lighting and a small window in the corner that was open a crack. I heard a low whine that sounded like someone trying not to cry, but failing.
“Are you okay in there?” I asked. Usually I might have thought more before asking, but the alcohol had made me bolder.
The toilet flushed. The stall door opened. Zoe’s face was redder than mine and her eyes were slivers, wet with tears.
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Awesome, actually. How’s your last night before you never see Chris again?”
“I didn’t steal him from you,” I said. “So I don’t get why you act like I did something so wrong to you.”
Zoe slouched, her hip up against the stall door. “Maybe he was going to be that good guy you said I deserved.”
Zoe and I stood there in the grim bathroom. I wished she would apologize, but she wasn’t going to. I wished I wasn’t drunk. I was worried about what I might say. I wasn’t sure I could forgive her anyway, even if she gave the most heartfelt apology. Her actions had too big implications.
“So you go and ruin his reputation?” I said. “You know Harris pulled his horses, right?”
Zoe showed no emotion. I wondered if deep down she felt badly at least for hurting Chris.
“And I thought you were my friend,” I added.
Even after what happened, I didn’t wish we’d never been friends. Zoe had shown me how great it was to have a best friend. She’d made me think that maybe I’d find a friend like her at Tufts, only better, only truer.
“Bye, Zoe,” I said, before this got worse and I said something I regretted. I wasn’t going to try to save her anymore. Let her sleep with Dermott or Trevor. Let her figure out her own life. I had my own problems to sort out. “I hope things get better for you.”
“You know she’s home,” Zoe called after me. “Mary Beth’s home and I heard she wants Chris back.”
I let her words drift over me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t totally ignore or discount them.
When I came back to the table, I asked Chris if we could go home. I wanted to be alone with him. It was the last time, for a while anyway, and even if I was drunk, I wanted to savor it.
Chapter 40
That morning everything felt slow. Waking up next to Chris, getting out of bed and into the shower. I couldn’t believe Circuit was over.
At the horse show, everyone was busy packing up. Trailers dotted the grounds, pulled up as close to the tents as possible. Grooms were loading trunks, flowers, water buckets, and saddles. The rings themselves looked forlorn, with all the jumps pushed into the middle, ready to be carted to the next show. It was a dry day and sunny, with dust blowing up over the grounds from the burnt-out fields that had been so green when the summer started. I thought how different it was for most of the people packing up. For them it was just the end of one show and the beginning of another somewhere else down the road. Perhaps they would stop home or layover somewhere to rest the horses, but then they would be off again. It was one endless loop of horse shows.
Mrs. Gorham wasn’t coming to get Logan, which was kind of a shame becau
se I would have liked her to see how much I’d learned and how great I was with Logan now. But Logan was going to Pennsylvania on a truck with Arkos.
Mike had come to say good-bye while I was taking down the stalls.
“I’d ask if you need any help, but you’re an old pro now,” he said.
“What can I say? I learned from the best.”
“So it’s off to college?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, if that doesn’t work out, give me a call . . . I can probably find you a job grooming.”
I smiled. He was probably kidding but in all honesty a job as a groom didn’t seem like the worst thing to me anymore. “Thanks, Mike,” I said. “For everything.”
He quickly glanced away and it was like there was plenty we weren’t saying but both understood—Chris, Jamie, Zoe.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Mike said.
“Never,” I told him.
I took down the cross ties, the buckets in Logan’s stall, the bird box, and lined them all up outside the grooming stall. I wrapped Logan and left only his halter and lead rope by his door.
I glanced at my sixth and my long yellow classic ribbon that hung from Logan’s stall. I took them off his door.
Chris came over and asked if Logan was ready. We walked him over to Chris’s stalls where the trailer was parked. I kissed Logan on the nose and started crying. I could never have imagined how much I’d miss him and how much he meant to me now. I’d miss getting up each morning knowing he was waiting for me to feed him, depending on me. I’d miss cleaning his stall and how good it felt when it was beautifully clean. I’d miss cleaning my tack and raking the aisle. I’d miss coming to check on Logan at night. I’d even miss cleaning out the poop in his water buckets.
“I’ll take good care of him,” Chris said, as he took the lead rope from me.
“I know.”
I wiped away my tears and watched Chris lead Logan up the ramp. I hoped I’d see Logan soon. But what if Chris thought it was best to sell him, or things didn’t work out between Chris and me?
If I thought saying good-bye to Logan was hard, then came saying good-bye to Chris. We would text non-stop and FaceTime and talk on the phone. But it wouldn’t be the same as seeing him and spending each night with him. And I think we both knew that things between us were uncertain. I was headed to college; he was trying to reboot his career. Just those two different tracks were enough to put us worlds apart. Then there was Mary Beth.
“You ready to head off?” Chris said.
I nodded. I had packed up all my stuff from the condo and loaded it into my car. Left the key on the coffee table for the realtor. That was it. I was ready to go. Only I wasn’t . . .
“Not really,” I confessed.
“This isn’t it,” Chris said.
But he couldn’t know that. For a moment, we both stood still.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” I said.
Chris raised his eyebrows.
“Did you—why did you first start helping me? Why did you want to? Why me?”
Chris shrugged. “I guess I had a good feeling about you. When I saw you in the ring, with Jamie yelling at you, I thought we might be good for each other.”
“Have we been? Have I been good for you too?”
“Yes,” Chris said.
It was hard to believe since Chris came to the horse show with an owner, a bunch of talented horses to ride, and a solid reputation. He was leaving with two low-level horses, no owner, and people probably still gossiping about him. But I had to believe that in some way I was good for him too. That the fact that I didn’t know the first thing about the horse show world gave him perspective he needed.
I tried to immerse myself in kissing Chris, but my mind was all over the place with so many thoughts of what would happen between us and what things would be like when we were apart. Was our relationship only possible here at the horse show?
“I love you,” I said, as we pulled apart. I hadn’t planned to say it, and I hoped it didn’t sound like I was trying to make something permanent before we left. It had just come out. Probably, I imagined, that was the best way for someone to say, “I love you.” Totally unprompted and unplanned, just from the heart.
Without hesitation Chris said back to me, “I love you.”
In the car, I turned on the radio, hoping to hear Mission. I kept switching channels and for once it wasn’t on. That seemed like a bad omen. Like a sign that everything was over. My mind raced toward the future. I thought about school, about Logan, about Chris and whether we’d be able to make it work long distance. I decided to keep my eyes on the road, as it lolled up and down the hills. It was the only way to get home.
The End
About the Author
Kim Ablon Whitney lives with her husband and three children in Newton, Massachusetts. In addition to writing fiction, she is a USEF ‘R’ judge in hunters, equitation, and jumpers and has officiated at the Washington International Horse Show Junior Equitation Finals, the Capital Challenge, the Winter Equestrian Festival, Lake Placid, and the Vermont Summer Festival. As a junior, she showed in the equitation, placing at the USEF Talent Search and USEF Medal Finals. She later competed as an amateur in the A/O jumpers, winning top ribbons at WEF, Lake Placid, and Devon on her self-trained off-the-track Thoroughbred.
Keep in touch with Kim on Facebook, Twitter, and at www.kimablonwhitney.com.
Word of mouth recommendations help immensely! Please consider writing a review (even just a short one) of Summer Circuit on Amazon.
Want to read more about the show circuit from Kim Ablon Whitney? Check out Blue Ribbons, The Perfect Distance or Winter Circuit.
Want to read more about the show circuit from Kim Ablon Whitney? Here is an excerpt from Winter Circuit, available on Amazon.
Chapter One
It didn’t seem possible that a day could be grayer. Gray sky. Gray buildings. Gray snow. Gray was beautiful on a horse—dapple or steel gray was coveted in the hunters. I’d heard someone talk about a gray horse once, saying if he were bay he wouldn’t be anything special. Even an old flea-bitten gray had its charm. But in the rest of the world, gray was a depressing, blah color. Which, of course, fit my mood perfectly.
I headed across campus, trudging by the President’s Lawn on my way to the Health Center. It was the week after Thanksgiving and there had been an early snowfall the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the day before classes resumed. What had been a pretty white layer over campus on Sunday had turned to ugly gray by Monday when the temperature thawed and a little frozen rain fell. Nonetheless, a few students were attempting to sled down the slope of the lawn on rectangular cafeteria trays—fulfilling what was a Tufts tradition. I watched apathetically as I walked by them. Three guys and two game, sporty girls—hair poking out adorably from under their cute snow hats complete with pompoms—laughed as they jerked down the lawn. One of the guys pushed another to give him more momentum, but it ended with them both rolling into the snow. They stumbled to standing, jeans soaked, laughing even harder. Like it was one of the funniest things that had ever happened. Like it was the best day they’d ever lived. One of the guys made a snowball and tossed it at one of the girls, who smiled like she was loving every minute of college.
And then there was me. Miserable me. All around me kids seemed to be reveling in college life. They walked in packs to classes, went to the gym to work out, formed study groups, pre-gamed before hitting the frat parties. They hooked up with people they wished they hadn’t the next day and seemed to love their ability to do so. They slept little, ate late at night, and generally were imbibing college life.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy at Tufts. There had to be others or else there wouldn’t be a Counseling and Mental Health Center. There wouldn’t be others walking across campus to talk to a psychologist when they could be sliding down a slope of mushy snow on a cafeteria tray. But, surrounded by all the I’m-Finally-Here Kids, I felt dreadfull
y alone.
The voices of the happy sledders faded as I made my way to the Counseling and Mental Health Center. Chris was probably getting on his third or fourth ride of the day by now. Maybe teaching a lesson. We had texted that morning and he’d said he had a busy day ahead. Of course I was happy for him. But I was also sad for me.
The Health Center was warm, nearly too warm, the air overheated and dry. I checked in and then sat down in the waiting room to wait for Dr. S. She came out to get me after a few minutes and we went into the non-descript office that I’m sure she shared with the other staff psychologists. Dr. S (I’d given up trying to pronounce her incredibly long and consonant-filled last name) was not what I had expected when I’d decided to go to the Health Center. She had beautiful, natural blond hair. The kind that all the people who dye their hair blond wish they had. She didn’t wear much make-up—she was naturally pretty. She looked like she belonged at a country club, not in a student mental health center. But I liked her even more for that—I made up in my mind that she’d had the most perfect upbringing filled with everything she’d ever wanted and still she’d decided to help people. Then she’d gone and married a foreigner with a crazy last name.
“Hi,” I said, after I sat down.
“Hi,” she said.
I always hated this first part of our sessions. It must be protocol for therapists not to ask something like, “How’re you feeling today?” or “How’s it going?” But I always wished she would. Instead, I would have to start things off. Well, our first session ever she had started things off by asking why I had come to see her. That had opened the door for me to recount everything: how until July I’d lived a quiet existence. I’d been a good student, but had few true friends or life experiences. I’d ridden horses but hated my trainer. Then, my father had decided I should go to the seven-week horse show circuit in Vermont and that I should take care of my horse—all by myself. I had learned over the weeks of the circuit to love caring for Logan. I had learned that I was good at it. I had gotten better as a rider but the most important thing I’d gotten out of the experience was seeing myself as capable of taking care of a large, living, breathing, needy animal.
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