I sucked in a lungful of air. I looked at her, realizing tears were streaming down my face. “I’m pregnant.”
Marjorie raised her drawn-on brows. Annoyance was evident on her face. “So? Just tell Arnold it’s his. He doesn’t have to know otherwise.”
I started openly sobbing. My head dropped into my hands. I hauled it back up to look Marjorie in the eye. “He’ll know it isn’t his,” I said urgently.
Her mouth fell open a little. “You mean…you – you haven’t…?”
I shook my head emphatically. “No. Did you think I just climbed off Lawrence every night, took a nice refreshing shower, went home and jumped into bed with Arnold? Are you insane?” I looked at her oddly. Grave as my current situation was, the idea of sleeping with my husband after being with Lawrence still struck me as utterly ridiculous. The letdown would’ve been enough to make me blow my brains out.
Marjorie appeared to take offense. She made a move to leave. Jolted back to the present, I snatched her hand. “Please don’t leave me,” I begged her.
Her face, when she looked at me again, was pinched. “What do you want me to do, Elaine? What am I supposed to say?”
I stared at her, desperation mounting. “I need help, Marjorie. I’m really scared. My life is such a mess. I don’t know what to do. I just…I need help,” I repeated stupidly.
Marjorie shook her head. She said nothing. The look on her face said “You got what you deserved.” She wrenched her hand out of my grasp, opened the car door and left me. I stared wordlessly as my only hope for support and gravity walked back to her brunch party. Back to all my friends. They all sensed I was going under, so they all stepped aside. They probably thought I was self-centered and careless because of what I’d done, and that was probably accurate. But the same was true of all of them.
I drove back to the house, where I paced around the elaborately decorated interior, considering my options. My options were few, and they each had their own specific horrors. If I kept the baby, I would have to tell Arnold everything. I was certain he would not be forgiving. He would most likely leave me. I would lose everything. Then where would I go? Back to Friedmont? I couldn’t go back there. I could not move back in with my mother and face her wrath and judgment. I couldn’t walk through that pathetic town and see the satisfaction on everyone’s face. Of course she couldn’t handle the high life. She thought she was so much better than any of us. Well, look at her now. Going back was not an option. My skin crawled just thinking about it.
There is only one real option, I thought grimly. I would make the baby go away, and go on with my life. I hadn’t told anyone but Marjorie, and she wasn’t likely to tell anyone. Even if she did, I could always deny it. Arnold would believe me. He always did, even when my lie was hasty and poorly thought out.
It was for the best, I told myself. I had never considered myself mother material. I had no good example to follow, no maternal instincts to speak of. I had never wanted to go through the months of pregnancy or the drama of labor. I had never wanted to sacrifice something as vitally important as my body so that a handful of cells could fulfill their destiny. I never cared about creating human life.
But that was before, when the concept was abstract and frightening and never going to happen. Now I could sense a different feeling creeping in. I cared. Even through all the panic and misery, I could feel a floaty, happy feeling. It scared me. I distrusted it. I fought against it. No. No, no, no. No. I can’t do this! The despair rose in my veins again. It’s just biology, I told myself. It means nothing.
It wasn’t just about the baby, I knew. It was part of him. If the kid were Arnold’s, I was certain I wouldn’t feel so conflicted. But it was his, and it gave me a legitimate connection to him, which I had always craved more than words can express. The knowledge that I was carrying his child, even though it had been conceived in rather unflattering circumstances, made me feel powerful. Better. Worthy. That was what had me so torn.
For a moment, I considered the possibility of keeping the baby and telling the truth. To everyone involved. Arnold would disown me, for sure, but Lawrence might have a difficult time doing so. He had daddy issues in abundance, I knew. He wouldn’t want his child to suffer like he had. He would do the right thing, even if it meant seeing me. And if I wasn’t Arnold’s wife, if he had a chance to really know me, then maybe he would come around.
As soon as the thought entered my head, I shoved it away in disgust. He was right about you. His final words invaded my head. You’re inherently selfish. You’re a worthless human being, a total waste of space. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t even stand to look at you, let alone fuck you. I’m leaving now, and I dearly hope I never see you again. The room around me blurred. I couldn’t do this. My motives were all wrong. I would be a horrible mother. I would screw up my kid completely. And being forced to be around me would destroy him. I loved him too much to do that.
So what now? I sat down heavily on the floor, emotionally exhausted. It was just too hard.
I heard the door open, close, and then Arnold’s slow, shuffling footsteps. I leapt to my feet. Checked my face in the mirror. Surprisingly, I looked okay. Okay enough for Arnold not to notice anything, at least. I knew what I had to do. Even though every cell in my body revolted at the mere thought of it, it had to be done.
I said a quick hello and goodbye to Arnold. As I drove to the clinic, my body sent out signals my mind tried to ignore. I felt cold and clammy. My hands shook, my muscles quivered with tension. My stomach knotted itself intricately and excruciatingly. Staying between the lines, stopping and turning became exceedingly hard. I felt a momentary little twinge of relief as I parked my car. As I stepped out, my legs seemed weighted down. I felt a kind of backwards pull. I pushed through it, stopping only to dry heave into a garbage can outside the door.
The receptionist looked alarmed by my appearance, but she handed me the necessary paperwork. It was oddly calming as I filled it out. I followed some white-coated person to an exam room. My body recoiled at the sight of the tools laid out on sterile blue cloth. My skin was devoid of normal, healthy color. I was shaking and sweating. The doctor stared at me. Concern showed in her eyes. “You know, you don’t have to do this. We can discuss your other options.”
She was trying to give me an out. She couldn’t possibly understand that I didn’t have one.
I shook my head. I was crying hysterically. “No. Please. Please just…get rid of it. Just put me under, okay?” I could only hope she would do what I told her. I knew I couldn’t possibly ask again.
I panicked. I fucked up. I really did. In time, I realized what I should have done. I could have taken off, gone on an extended vacation, around the time I started to show. Arnold wouldn’t have questioned it. I could have had the baby, and given it up for adoption. Or maybe I would have realized it was more important to me than my loveless marriage and big house. I realized that now. But now was too late.
I bent my head and sobbed at what might have been, and what my life had instead become.
Lawrence
It was two days later. I knew she would come back. I felt it in an odd, inner way with absolute certainty, right along with the anxiety constricting my guts. She was triumphant. She’d found a way through Harry’s resistance and fear I never would have thought of. Now she just had to get me to execute it. I knew she had faith in me. She was wrong to have faith in me. Even as I stood there imagining it, fear was cutting off my senses and binding my limbs. There’s no way, I thought helplessly.
There was no reason for me to feel like this. I rode fearlessly. I was reckless, insane. I had no reservations about getting on Harry. I could ride out everything he threw at me. But I didn’t trust him. I had never trusted him. When I rode him, there was no connection. We were just trying to save ourselves, and in doing so, we held the other back.
I should be better than this, I thought angrily. I trusted Eloise. She was far worse than Harry. I should be able to trust him. But I knew
Elle and Harry were incomparably different. Elle had worn her trauma and rage clearly, for everyone to see. There had been no question as to how she was. She was also a made pony. There was a foundation there. It had been destroyed, but the fact that it had ever been there at all made it easier to establish trust.
I was a different person now. When Elle came into my life I was several years past innocence, but I was just a kid and still somewhat naïve. I had been unthreatening to her. Benign. I understood her, I presented her with trust and companionship, and we bonded. I couldn’t recreate that now with Harry. I was older and I saw everything more harshly. I rode defensively, and I lived defensively. I was afraid to venture out of what I knew how to do.
A vehicle rolled to a stop outside my house. I recognized the sound of the engine. I felt a lurching spasm of anxiety and stumbled to the door.
Lou stood outside of Erica’s truck. She wasn’t with him. I let out a long exhale and opened the door. “You’re back,” I said.
“Yup. For all of a week.” He laughed briefly.
I clattered off the porch and we hugged and thumped each other on the back aggressively even though no one was around to notice or care. I released him after an appropriately short amount of time. “So. Taking over Europe, eh? How’d they let that happen?”
“I still can’t believe it,” he said candidly. “I’m just a kid with an English Thoroughbred. It’s unreal.”
His modesty was a bit much, although I knew it was genuine. I’d seen him ride the mare. She moved like she was constructed out of springs, not bone. He sat above her and simply followed, directing her imperceptibly. They were the absolute, insane dream ideal.
He was looking around the yard. “Wow. The place looks good. Carl would be pleased.”
I swallowed a nervous laugh. I doubt it. Not after what his widow and I did in that house. “Um. Do you want to see the horses?”
“Of course,” Lou said eagerly.
I led him to the paddock where Vegas and Harry were dodging flies, grateful to have gotten him off the subject of my property (and my landlady’s formerly nameless dead husband). Lou was a great guy, and he was really my only friend besides Amber and Wilson. He was warm, honest, genuine and all that important stuff. He was too good. He made me feel like shit in comparison. I was always guarded when I spoke to him. I wasn’t myself. I tried to be better than I was. Basically, I lied.
Vegas struck a pose as we came up to the fence. He exuded class. Harry twitched and snapped at flies and glared at us suspiciously. “Guess which one is Harry?” I asked dryly.
“I’m guessing not the bay.” Lou was eyeing Vegas. “His shoulder angle is ideal. And the way his neck sets in…wow.”
“You should see him move. But you can’t,” I added quickly. “He’s not for sale; he’s the only thing I can practice on. And I haven’t even finished paying him off.”
Lou still had his dressage-potential-evaluating eye locked on Vegas. I waited patiently. He did this all the time. He couldn’t stop himself.
Finally, Lou came back to earth. “Sorry. How is Harry doing for you? You sounded really frustrated a couple months ago.”
My verbal filter tightened up even more. “He’s…alright. He’s, uh, difficult, but he’s getting better, I think. I’m learning things about him that may help.” I did not mention Erica. I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of her. I did realize how it could seem to him.
Lou nodded. He looked slightly confused. “Erica seemed to think he was doing well.”
Oh. So he knew. And now he was probably wondering why I hadn’t mentioned his sister at all. “She’s been incredibly helpful,” I said quickly. “I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s so good with him.” I stopped myself from going on. I didn’t want to under-do it and then over-do it the next second. I was going for smoothness here.
Lou still wore an odd expression. “That’s good. I’m glad she was able to help.”
I’m not taking advantage of her! I very nearly blurted that out. Calm down already. What the fuck is wrong with you? “She said she wanted to see it through, so…”
His odd look crept off his face. “I’m not surprised. Erica’s very dedicated. She doesn’t like to do things partway.” He glanced over at the barn. “I should say hi to Eloise.”
Once we got off the subject of Erica, I was able to relax a bit and enjoy his company. Until he opened the door of her truck, climbed inside and said “I’ve got to get this back to her. She said she was coming out here later.”
I had known this, but my heart still rose up near the back of my mouth, gagging me. “Take care,” I rasped out at the volume of a stage whisper.
He left. I stood there with too much useless adrenaline rolling through me to relax, work or do much of anything, really.
Amber came back around a couple hours later. She’d been going on a lot of long walks. “You look like shit,” she observed, walking around me warily.
“Thanks for noticing,” I said snappishly. I didn’t care if it started a fight. She couldn’t tear me down much more than she already had.
She didn’t rise up and strike. She actually looked a bit crestfallen. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said to you. Some of what I said,” she corrected herself. “You’re not a horrible person, okay? What you do doesn’t make you a horrible person. It limits you.”
“Okay,” I said stupidly. I was too stunned to say anything else. She couldn’t have shocked me more if she’d blown me away with dynamite.
She picked at something on the countertop. “You are a horny teenager, though. You’re not a man.”
“Okay,” I repeated myself as I heard the same engine for the second time. I turned and bolted through the door. I was as uncomfortable as I’d ever been, yet now that it was upon me, I no longer dreaded it. I was strangely, vaguely excited.
Erica stood roughly in the same spot Lou had been. I felt a fresh flood of adrenaline hit my veins. She smiled up at me. The closer I got, the more I felt her radiating calmness. It was like she knew what I needed, unlikely though that was. She was giving me the crazy horse treatment, I realized. Whatever. It was working.
“Ready?” She asked me. She looked at me fully, without flinching.
I didn’t shy away. I welcomed her intense, crystal-cut gaze. “Yes,” I said strongly. It sounded like a lie, but it felt like the truth.
We collected Harry and got him ready. We worked around each other smoothly, not once speaking. We were good together, I realized. I didn’t have a partnership with Harry, but Erica and I had undeniably formed one in our combined efforts to reach him.
It hit me again as I walked Harry down to the arena. Every doubt, every fear, every little prick of anxiety I’d managed to brush away. This is really happening. I glanced at Erica. Her face was subtly set. The air between us had changed somehow. There was an overwhelming gravity to this moment, and we all felt it. This seemed like a turning point to me. It was profound in ways I didn’t dare to delve into.
Under Erica’s steady, slightly frozen gaze, I steadied Harry and mounted him before my fragile momentum could slip away. I heard Erica’s sigh. Turned and saw her unwavering trust. “You know what to do,” she said.
I made myself let the reins out a couple inches, so they barely touched his mouth but didn’t just hang there. I asked him to walk, and he stepped forward tightly. Don’t tighten, I snapped at myself as I was already tightening.
Harry was being remarkably good. It only made me nervous about what he might be holding back. Both our trust issues ran deep. I was psyching myself out.
The waiting was killing me. I moved Harry up to a trot, sure the extra speed would provoke an explosion. He was tense, but his tension was steady. It wasn’t building.
I brought him back down and looked over at Erica. Maybe she would consider this a breakthrough. Maybe she would say Harry was fixed now. Maybe I could get off right now, unscathed, unchanged, un-grown. Maybe you’re kidding yourself. Erica didn’t l
ook pleased. She seemed to know we were both holding back.
“So he’s not taking off right now. Harry’s different every day. But he’s not fine. The tension is still there, and it’s always going to be there unless something changes. You need to find the trust.” She was looking right at me. She saw through everything. She got down to the cause.
“You need a reaction from him, Lawrence. And you need to calm him. Then you can quit.”
Her words felt like a push. I felt like she’d shoved me up against a locker. She wasn’t going to let me keep going on this path. Okay. The path I was on had no destination. It meandered pointlessly. I needed her to throw me off balance. Otherwise I was never going anywhere.
I pressed Harry’s sides. He trotted off rigidly. I knew what had to be done. I looked left, and tightened my hand against the rein.
Harry seized up. He came to a quivering halt, sinking down on his hocks. I pushed him forward. He scrambled sideways, terrified. I stopped thinking, just like him. My hands crept back toward my body, closing Harry in.
“Drop the reins!” Came Erica’s frantic yell.
Harry’s heart pounded through my boots. His eye rolled in his head. White foam covered his lips and fell onto his chest. He couldn’t swallow. My hold was too strong.
“Give him the reins!”
I couldn’t look at Erica. I couldn’t look anywhere but Harry’s neck. We were both locked in our fear patterns, and I was the only one who could end it.
“DROP THE REINS! DO IT NOW!”
She was absolutely livid. I knew this must be the side of her that dealt with Maggie. I felt faintly ashamed to have brought it out.
Harry was thrashing desperately in my grasp. I realized, sickeningly, that he was trying to be good. He wasn’t running us into the fence. He wasn’t flipping over on me. He was trying. I felt a warm bubble of emotion in my throat. I felt privileged. I was proud of him. And I absolutely hated myself for being incapable of the same, simple thing.
Training Harry Page 22