Training Harry

by Meghan Namaste

  What for? I felt like snapping. I watched her leave. She was wide-shouldered and she moved without the exaggerated hip swing that men find so hot. If she were less curvy, she would’ve been easily labeled “boyish”. She was a nice person. She truly was. I stood there hating myself, and hating Lawrence. I focused on him. He was an asshole to keep stringing her along like this. Erica clearly worshipped him. She would be good for him, too.

  He’ll never go for her, though. She was too nice, too available. Not exciting enough. And he was too fucking stupid. I felt bad for her as I left the barn and saw her starting off for the field. Don’t get your hopes up, I thought disparagingly.

  I went back in the house and sat in a brooding funk, listening to Lady Gaga. Eventually, a quick motion grabbed my eye and I went to the window. Harry was spinning around Erica, who stood, anchored, holding the end of his reins. Harry stopped for a moment, trembling, then he spooked again, knocking Erica sideways. Lawrence stepped in with surprising speed, taking Harry’s reins and bringing the gelding to a firm halt, then pushing Harry backward. He used his bad arm.

  Huh, I thought for a second, and then I shut my mind right down again.

  Erica

  I glanced around the yard, past the maroon Ford and Amber’s filthy Chevy. The house stood, vacant of human life. He wasn’t in the barn, and Amber hadn’t exactly been forthcoming. She really seemed to hate me. I wondered, not for the first time, what was really going on between the two of them. Best not to go there.

  I walked around to the front paddock where Harry was flitting about nervously. He was alone. He walked up to the fence and let me pet him, clearly desperate for a friend. “Where’s Vegas?” I asked him softly and moronically. I lifted my head to stare through the trees at the edge of Lawrence’s property. Beyond the thin line of surviving maples, a meandering, sloping field stretched on farther than I could see. I left Harry and headed straight for the field, sliding between two trees. My feet touched down on the soft grass, and I went on.

  The sun fell softly on my face and shoulders. The air was still and tepid as I treaded a small path up a gradual incline. A light breeze passed over me, ruffling the grass. I started to feel him even before I saw him.

  At the top of the hill, I saw. Vegas was stretched out fully, lean muscles and veins popping out of his glistening coat. Gleaming white polo wraps encircled his legs. His gallop was straight and true over the rolling terrain. His ears strained ahead. He was locked onto the ball, with no obstacles in his way. No movements or patterns to execute. He was sheer power and drive. It was beautiful.

  Lawrence was suspended over Vegas, seeming to absorb his every extravagant, full-tilt motion. It flowed through him, from his supple, hinging elbows and erect shoulders, down to his hips and thighs and deep, flexed heels. Vegas brought him to the ball, tiny and almost hidden in the grass, and Lawrence swung his mallet, sending the ball up and away. The deep crack reverberated in the open air. They pursued the ball again and again, through peaks and valleys slight and steep. I was held, unmoving. I felt as if I was seeing some phenom of nature.

  Another sharp crack, and the ball landed not fifteen feet away from me. Vegas roared by me. I saw his eye. The unnerving focus. It was the same expression on horse and rider. Lawrence swung, striking with deadly precision. He never looked down at the ball.

  It went on. I stayed. I would have kept watching for hours, or days. In an instant, he stopped. He was looking right at me. He leapt off Vegas and started to walk toward me. For the first time I realized he wasn’t wearing a helmet. His hair was all around his face. There was a shadow of a beard surrounding his mouth, and a light sheen of sweat over his skin. I bit my lip hard.

  “Erica.” He sounded breathless. Because he’d been riding hard. Whatever. It was still hot as hell.

  “Hi,” I said. I was suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry to just, like, appear out here. I couldn’t find you, so…”

  “That’s okay,” he said.

  “I saw what you were doing.” I settled in for a lengthy pause, trying to think of a word that was enough for what I’d just seen. “It’s…incredible.” I could’ve said amazing, but it was kind of a critically overused word.

  He smiled in a cute, understated way. “Uh, thanks.” He shifted on his feet. A long moment went by. “How’s Assault?”

  “He’s great. He still needs to be watched on the ground, but he’s a lovely ride.”

  “I’m so glad.” He looked back at Vegas. “I better walk him.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” I offered. He smiled, nodded, and we went around the field many times, not saying much, until Vegas’ coat dried and his hard-worked muscles loosened. Back in the barn, we stripped off Vegas’ tack and leg wraps. Lawrence’s helmet was hanging on the wall, and my eyes lingered on it for a second.

  Lawrence saw. He looked adorably nervous. “I’m, uh, still getting in the habit…”

  I smiled. “I’m sure.”

  “I know it’s important…”

  “I’m sure.”

  We both started laughing. He took Vegas out to the paddock and came back with Harry, who looked snorty and wild-eyed. “Hey, you little spazz,” I said to him as I grabbed a brush.

  Harry settled a bit as we worked on him, and I felt the need to articulate something that was bothering me. “So, I saw Amber today,” I started.

  “Uh-huh.” He had a look on his face like he had an idea where this was going.

  “I just…I feel like I got off on the wrong foot with Amber somehow. I don’t seem to have made a good impression.”

  “Let me stop you there,” he said. “I don’t know of a single person in the universe who has ever made a good impression, as far as Amber sees it. You’re fine.”

  “It’s weird…she seems like a good person, but it’s like she’s got a need to drive people away.” I wondered, privately, what had happened to her. How she got that way.

  He nodded in kind of a resigned way. “That would be Amber. She’s not as bad as she would lead you to believe.” He looked a little sad. The subject closed off between us.

  When Harry was ready, I led him out into the yard. He was walking nicely at my shoulder when, as we reached the house, he inexplicably lost his composure. He bolted from my side, hitting the end of the reins and whipping around to circle me at a quick, disorganized scramble. I braced myself and tried to project calm thoughts. Finally he stopped, taut, nearly vibrating with tension. His eye flickered to something on his off side, and he leapt sideways, right into me. I staggered a bit but stayed on my feet. Then I saw Harry going backwards, and not of his own accord. Lawrence was in front of Harry, muttering under his breath. When they walked forward again, Harry seemed to have decided that whatever had scared him before was far less threatening than Lawrence was now. Lawrence shook his head. “Idiot.”

  “He just spooked,” I said, feeling the need to defend Harry.

  “Yeah, well, there’s no reason for him to run into people like that,” Lawrence nearly snapped. I followed them down to the arena, slightly stunned. Not because he had overreacted, necessarily…it wasn’t unreasonable to ask for Harry to pay attention when he was acting dangerously. But the anger in his voice was throwing me a bit.

  I watched with some trepidation as he climbed onto Harry. But he was as light and skilled as ever, and Harry responded. It was good to see progress, even if it was subtle. I shrugged off his earlier blip. Everybody loses it sometimes.

  Afterward, I was all geared up for our untacking ritual when I glanced at the clock that hung in the barn. Shit. “I’ve gotta go,” I said reluctantly. “I have a lesson to get to, and I can’t be late, since I keep hammering punctuality into the kid…”

  Lawrence’s eyes lit up. “Hey. That’s not…the same kid, is it? The kid I’m thinking of?”

  “The very one.”

  “So her parents must not like her very much, then.”

  I glared at him. “First of all, I do make an effort to keep the abuse to a minimum.
And secondly, the kid’s parent’s had nothing to do with it. Maggie called me herself. Apparently she’s decided she wants to learn how to ride. So now I’m in the position of having to teach horsemanship to a seven year old who carries around a cell phone and hundred dollar bills.”

  He looked impressed. “Wow. I don’t know of anyone else who would take that on. But it sounds like you’ve already made an impact. It gives me hope for this thing.” He glanced pointedly at Harry.

  “You shouldn’t compare Harry to an entitled little brat like Maggie. You do Maggie a great disservice.”

  He snorted. “Touché.”

  I started for the door. My reluctance dragged me down like freshly-mixed concrete.

  “Good luck today,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I dragged myself away from him. Stupid kid. I should just cancel. But I can’t. Stupid, obnoxious kid who pays.

  When I started up my truck, the little digital clock numbers showed I was probably going to be late. Damn it all. I drove recklessly to the Allsteen’s estate, rearranging their gravel as I turned into the drive.

  I got down to the arena to find Maggie already warming Twinkle up. She halted him when she saw me. “You’re late.”

  You’re lucky I showed up at all, kid. “My last appointment ran long,” I said calmly.

  “Shouldn’t you plan for things like that?”

  “Maggie, I never said I was perfect.”

  “Yeah, but you’re, like, old. Shouldn’t you know what you’re doing by now?”

  I really didn’t feel like talking about this stuff. But I had to shut her up so I could get on with the actual lesson. “Maggie, let me tell you something about adults. You might think that because we’ve reached a certain age and we don’t have dumb kid rules anymore, that we have it all together. Well, we don’t. We have cars and jobs and stuff, and we might appear superior, but underneath the surface, we’re pretty much just a mess. We’re all just running, trying to get through it all.” I ran out of steam. It was pretty depressing stuff.

  “Now,” I said to Maggie. “Drop your stirrups. I want a posting trot, twice each way around the arena.”

  “Fine.” Maggie lifted her feet from her irons, crossed them over, and trotted off. She already looked stronger.

  Lawrence

  I walked into the house. Amber was lost in her headphones. There was another empty pie pan in the trash.

  I ate a lot without really taking any joy from the eating. Eventually, I heard Amber slip off her headphones. She padded over to where I sat. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  She made a move to walk off, and then stopped. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you.”

  I retreated into myself a little more.

  “But I’m willing to wait it out, whatever it is. You’ve always been patient with me.” She paused. “And I’m sure you have your reasons.”

  I didn’t necessarily believe she believed that last thing. But I appreciated the effort. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

  Amber walked away. For some reason, I felt like talking. “Erica feels like she hasn’t made a good impression on you.”

  Amber stiffened. She turned right back to face me. “So you two were talking about me?”

  I let her defensiveness float by. “She seemed concerned about it. I think she wants to get to know you better.”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “Of course she does. She knows I have all the dirt on you.”

  “I really don’t think that’s what she’s after.”

  “Oh, really? You think this chick wants to be my friend?”

  “Yes, I do.” I held my ground in the face of Amber’s rising anger. “She sees you’re not really this horrible person you try to be. She’s giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

  I saw she was thrown. Amber was wavering between emotions. She went with the old standby. “I don’t need to be her friend. I don’t want her damn approval.”

  “You could use a friend,” I said quietly.

  “Because I’m not good enough if I don’t have a posse?” Amber spat.

  “Because you don’t really prefer being alone. No one does.”

  “Back the fuck off,” Amber snarled. It was a warning, as clear as a stop sign.

  I blew through it. “She’s a good person, Amber. It wouldn’t hurt you to know her.”

  “Why do you keep pushing this?” Amber screamed.

  “I think she’d be good for you,” I said.

  Something twisted in Amber’s face. I sensed her revving up. I knew this wasn’t Amber’s typical persona. This was real. There was hot blood in the air.

  “Don’t even tell me that. You son of a bitch. How can you…” She was shaking now, and the words were coming hard. “I don’t know how you can sit there and tell me this shit, when you’re - you’re…”

  “What?” I was out of my chair now, and I didn’t even remember standing up. “I’m what?”

  “You’re using her,” Amber said in a low hiss. She was right in my face. “You’re telling me what a nice girl she is, and how she’d make such a good friend for me, and all the while, you’ve got her hooked, and you’ll take her for everything she has.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.” I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes.

  “Tell her you don’t want her, then.” Amber was high, maniacal. “Tell her you don’t want her!” She screamed at me. “Or pay her!”

  We had never gone at it like this. This was intense. The words touched down and opened up flesh wounds. “Shut up, Amber. Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, so you want her, do you? Bullshit. If you wanted her, you’d already be fucking her.”

  My whole body went rigid. She stared at me, triumphant. Smug. She had no idea how close I was to losing it. Or maybe she did, and she didn’t even care.

  “Get out,” I said through my teeth.

  “You’re kicking me out now, are you? You wanna be able to live your pathetic life, and I’m just fucking it up for you, huh?”

  “Amber. Get the fuck out of my house. Now.”

  “With pleasure,” Amber spat. She stomped to the door, pulled it open and slammed it viciously. A second later the Harley started up. Then she was gone, and everything was still and quiet except for my own head.

  Erica

  The wind roared in my ears. I sat back and half halted, bringing Assault down a notch or two. His powerful trot propelled me out of the saddle at each stride, though he didn’t move with the chaotic lurch of some horses I’d ridden. He moved extravagantly and correctly, flexing all of his joints and rounding up underneath me almost of his own accord. It was like he didn’t know how to invert or go around on his forehand. He had a natural inclination to use himself.

  Not that he didn’t have his moments. He would occasionally lash out when the mood struck him. He was not a horse I could let my guard down around. And that impressive, natural athleticism made him quite effective at evading, resisting and bullying. Assault came along with a history, and I had to keep that in mind always, even when he was going along with the grace and flair of a Grand Prix horse.

  Assault was no horse for an amateur, that was for sure. I was just glad to have been the trainer who picked him up when he was at his worst. There was no telling where Assault could go in the world. I wanted to find out for myself. I was in no rush to move Assault along, especially now that he was no longer overtly trying to kill me every morning.

  I swished my outside leg back, and Assault easily transitioned to the canter. He sat deeply into his hind end, rising up before me. I circled him, spiraling in gradually, feeling the increasing collection. I didn’t know how far he’d gotten in his training before he’d gone rotten, and I thought about calling up his former trainer to find out. But that would undoubtedly be an awkward conversation. It was better to find out from Assault.

  I rode for a while, playing with his gaits, directing subtle changes of tempo and stride length, r
apid-fire transitions and lateral movements. Assault dug in and worked well for me. When I was satisfied with what I’d done, I brought him to a walk and let the reins out. He moved along, still powering forward, his whole body swaying. Even his walk was a bit of a workout to ride. When I dismounted, his chest was cool and dry. I led him back to the barn, keeping watch on him as he strutted at the end of the reins. My dad was away for the afternoon, so the barn was deserted. The quiet environment enabled Assault to focus on me, and I untacked, groomed and turned him out without incident. I stood at the fence for a moment, watching his splendid movement as he trotted off. It had been one of those good sessions. There was nothing better in the world.

  The weather was spectacular as I walked down to the house. I slipped into the kitchen in search of food, planning to get some, get out, and be done with it. My fingers closed around a muffin. It was plump and inviting. Not frozen, pre-packaged or complicated. It was there for me. I turned to leave, filled with quiet satisfaction. It was a good day.

  “Oh, hi, honey! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  I sensed things were about to take a bad turn. “Mom. Hi. I just came in to grab a snack.”

  My mother descended on me with her deadly swiftness. Her eyes darted to the muffin in my hand. “That’s not a snack, sweetie. That’s a dessert.”

  Things were already going bad. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later!” I said in that passive-aggressive cheer voice.

  “Don’t tell me you’re running off somewhere today.”

  If I possibly can. “I’ve got horses to ride,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be good enough for her.

  “It’s not even ten ‘o clock! You’ve got all day for that. We haven’t done anything special in a long time, just the two of us.”

  I knew what she was angling for, and I wanted no part of it. “It’s so gorgeous out, Mom. Why don’t we go on a nice trail ride…”

  Less than a minute later, I was in my mother’s car. The door was closed on me. I couldn’t even remember how that contented, satisfied feeling felt. I watched the intense green fields and white fences give way to asphalt and billboards.