Training Harry

by Meghan Namaste

  I had never dealt with a real abuse case, and it was a lot to take. Lawrence had, so he took charge of Trucker. He kept assuring me that the horse would be fine, that he’d seen worse. But I found the gelding’s near catatonic state deeply disturbing. Horses were reactive, quick-thinking creatures, full of life and energy. Trucker just stood around waiting to be beaten.

  Lawrence had put him in the front paddock nearest to the barn. He said Trucker needed to see the horses being taken back and forth, and get used to a normal routine again. He said Trucker would eventually get used to people again this way, and stop fearing their every move. If we left him out behind the barn, Lawrence said, he might be more comfortable initially, but then it would be even harder to get him to trust later on.

  Lawrence opened the door. Slowly I looked away from Trucker, meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

  He glanced out front. “Trucker’s doing well. He’s eating more, not watching me as much.”

  “That’s good.” I stared listlessly out the window.

  Lawrence stood at the door, waiting me out. He knew something was wrong.

  Slowly I found my voice. “I just wish I could apologize to him.” I turned to Lawrence, my eyes filling with tears that were not quite running over.

  “You will,” he promised. “You’ll be able to. He just needs time.”

  I nodded.

  Lawrence remained where he was. “I just came in to see if you’d like to start working Soiree,” he said. “She’s been cleared for ridden work. I thought you might like to take her on as your project.”

  That got me sitting up straighter. “Really?”

  “She needs fitness, of course, but you should be able to start evaluating her and putting the basics on her. I just don’t know what to do with her, but I have a feeling you might.” He smiled.

  “I’d love to.” I stood up, picking my coat off the floor. Then I followed him out.

  Soiree stood by the fence, waiting for me. She was now in with D.M., and they were both being kind to one another. D.M. briefly looked up from the grass but seemed to conclude he wasn’t being called to duty. Soiree nickered on my approach.

  “Hey, sweetie.” I slipped the halter over her head. When I led her through the gate, she bobbed her head excitedly.

  I took her to the barn for a quick grooming. Lawrence disappeared into the feed room for a bit.

  I had never had the chance to really step back and look Soiree over. I did that now. I studied the young mare, assessing her build, her legs, the angles of her conformation. She was refined, with less bone substance than I would’ve liked for her height, but I found that she was proportionally correct in most every way. She needed muscle and topline, but the smoothness of her, the way all her parts joined together was very promising. Her legs were clean and well conformed.

  She was beautiful to look at, with a sweet-natured elegance about her. But the most compelling feature was her eye. Large, liquid and kind, no ill temper or harshness flashed through it.

  Lawrence exited the feed room. I looked his way. “Would it be okay to free jump her over a small fence?” I asked suddenly.

  He considered that for a second. “I don’t see why not.”

  “I just want to check something.” I picked up Soiree’s lead and started off for the arena. Lawrence followed, taking Soiree for me when we got there.

  It took me just a few minutes to set up the fence. Soiree watched the whole time, ears pricked in curiosity. When it was ready I walked up to the gate, pulling it open. Lawrence led Soiree in.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let her go.”

  He unclipped her lead, and she walked off, sniffing the footing and looking about. I picked up a longe whip and sent her forward, down the rail. She broke into a trot. Her strides were long and soft, her hooves moving close to the ground.

  The fence was tiny, only one foot in height. It would have been easy for Soiree to veer around it but she seemed to hone in on the obstacle. She trotted straight for it, head lowered slightly as she measured the distance. When she reached the ideal take-off spot she settled on her hocks, softly leaping off the ground. Soiree lifted her legs up over the one foot fence, knees and hooves perfectly square and even. Her body rounded as she jumped, creating a beautiful crescent. She landed lightly and turned toward me, stopping and waiting for another request.

  I was too stunned to move at first. I had to see it again, to make sure it was really there. I raised the whip, clucked, and Soiree turned around and went back over the jump. The second time was just the same.

  I hurried over to Soiree and patted her profusely. Then I turned to Lawrence, who stood at the gate. “We’re not selling this horse,” I told him. “At least, not for a while.” Smiling, I draped my arm over Soiree’s neck. “This mare is going to win the Hunter Derby finals.”

  Lawrence

  Rotting leaves lay on the concrete and pavement. I walked down the street, concentrating on the rutted blacktop. This part of town was deserted. Almost every storefront had shut down, and the buildings stood, faded and empty. Some of the windows had been broken by stupid kids. Glass crunched under my feet when I walked past.

  I rounded a corner, coming out on an intersection that led to nowhere. I saw a frail woman down on the ground, wearing a short dress and little else. She was covered in dirt and her bones looked like they could pierce her skin. Without breaking stride I felt around in my pocket and dropped a five dollar bill at her feet.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” She asked.

  I stopped and turned around. Homeless people didn’t usually question charity.

  It took me a long time to recognize her. She was skeletal, emaciated. Her hair was balled up and matted, and there was very little life left in her. Such little trace of what she was. But slowly I began to realize that it must be her. And when I looked in her eyes and saw her look back at me, I knew without certainty, and slowly it hit me and I stared at her in shock and distant, clouded horror that magnified with every heartbeat.

  I couldn’t believe this was her. When I knew her, Elaine had strength. All those years she was gritty and determined, relentless. She had drive. And even though I hated her for it, I respected the power she conducted. I never thought she would end up this way.

  I wanted to ruin her, I remembered. Maybe I even wanted her to suffer. And I left with the sick realization that I just might have succeeded.

  Elaine

  I was dying. My internal organs, so long starved, were beginning to fail. I could almost feel it happening, and in a sick way I almost welcomed it.

  The skin that hung on my body was dry and tired, so tired. What was keeping me alive, the tremulous fight I still had in me was battling hard, frantically maintaining my shell of a life. As a human and a mammal, my deepest instinct was to not die. But some things you just can’t live through.

  It was shocking, then, how my body reacted to the sight of him. My heart thudded, accelerating from the slow, fluttering beat of hibernation, echoing in the hollowness of my body. I felt as if I was being struck repeatedly from within. The pounding force escalated, reaching up into my brain, and I had the stirring thought that even now, even now I could use the last of my faded reserves and entangle myself with him.

  I didn’t do it, I just lay back on the asphalt looking up at him, occasionally feeling a popping sensation in my veins. I was vaguely ashamed of my filthy appearance, and the sad, threadbare state of my Louis Vuitton cocktail dress. But I was too sick to care deeply about those things. I was too sick to feel pain anymore, or hopelessness. By now I was pretty much floating.

  Lawrence hovered above me, and I knew he wanted to leave but he remained for some time, held. I saw his expression change in many different ways but I wasn’t focused on every little twist of his face. I wasn’t concerned with what he thought of me. I just wanted to see him, look at him, remember him sharply.

  Gradually he turned his face away from my crumbled form, and he slipped away.

  Lawrence<
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  For two days I went on living the life I’d put together. I don’t remember much of those two days. I went through the motions of my normal routine and I just kept seeing her in my head. Each day I rode all my horses, fed and watered them and made certain they were never unhappy. And at night I lay in bed with Erica in my arms, and I didn’t sleep. I stared into the moonlit darkness and thought about Elaine, sprawled on the tarmac and left for dead. The vision of her stayed in my mind. It was relentlessly there. And I found I could not keep living this way.

  In the spring I would’ve said she deserved what she got. But a lot had happened this year. Maybe I had moved on, or grown somehow. Maybe there wasn’t room in my heart for hate anymore.

  When the morning light came in the windows I slipped from Erica’s arms, setting her gently on the pillow. I left a note to explain my absence, and quickly fed and turned out the horses. Then I got in my truck and drove.

  I found myself stepping on the gas, pushing the vehicle harder and faster. I blew past stop signs and when I hit that deserted road I was going faster than I did on the highway. Please, God, don’t let her have moved. I didn’t let myself think about the more likely scenario.

  I came to the intersection and hit the brake, burning rubber. She was there. She hadn’t moved. I left the door bouncing on its hinges and walked straight to her. “You’re coming with me,” I said.

  She looked up at me. “What if I don’t want to come with you?”

  I took her hand and lifted her right off the ground. She was so lightweight that it scared the shit out of me. It felt like her bones had hollowed out. I froze, slightly nauseated. Elaine looked at me a moment. Then she rolled her eyes slightly and walked to the truck on her own. When she started struggling with the door handle I recovered instantly.

  Once she was inside the cab, I took a moment to think. I realized I had no plan. I had no idea what to do with her. I started the truck and drove, just to make it seem like I knew what I was doing.

  Elaine was looking around. “Where are we going?” She demanded.

  “I don’t know.” I raised my hands cluelessly. “I should take you to the hospital,” I muttered, thinking out loud.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Elaine looked at me like I was a complete moron. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  I swung my head around to stare at her.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m only malnourished. If I was unhealthy, I’d be dead by now.”

  “All right, all right,” I relented. “I’ll just get you something to eat, then.” I looked up at the billboards alongside the road. “Take your pick.”

  Elaine’s eyes widened. “You can’t just go from starving on the street to eating your head off at some burger joint,” she said accusingly. “Do you know how much fat is in one of those things? That really would kill me.”

  “Okay!”

  We sat in silence for a minute. I can’t believe this. I am driving around with a corpse. And she’s talking back to me.

  Elaine glanced at me. “I think I’ll just have some water to start with,” she said.

  “Okay.” I picked up a bottle that was sitting in the cup holder. “Help yourself.”

  She took the bottle from me, unscrewing the cap and raising it to her mouth. Gently swallowing, she drank a little more each time until the water was gone. I kept driving, occasionally glancing over at her. She watched the scenery as it changed.

  Finally I made the turn into my driveway. Erica’s truck was gone. She had lessons scheduled that day. I opened the door for Elaine and she stepped down. I waited a moment then started toward the house. Elaine followed, and together we went inside.

  I stood in one place, shifting awkwardly, unsure of myself. Elaine’s eyes moved around, seeing my home, my private space. I hadn’t meant to do this, hadn’t even thought of the implications. Both of us were silent and we stood apart.

  I got past it. “You should really eat something.” I started moving, throwing open cupboards and the refrigerator. “What do you want? Pick something.”

  Elaine stepped forward. She was looking, searching, but something stopped her. She looked at me, and for the first time I saw her as vulnerable.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked softly.

  She was slow to respond. “I don’t remember how to eat.”

  I stared at her, and I realized she was telling the truth. I wondered how long she had been out there, her thinly covered bones pressing into the harsh blacktop. I wondered how many months she had starved before it became normal and she forgot all other sensation.

  I reached out and softly held her shoulder a moment. “You just have to start,” I said quietly.

  Elaine

  Lawrence removed his hand, and I took a little involuntary step toward him. I was suddenly conscious of my appearance. I wished I was still beautiful, even though he never cared when I was.

  He kept his eyes on me. “So. What do you want?”

  I looked up at him with a sad, helpless smile on my face. “What would you recommend?”

  Lawrence glanced around the kitchen, turning to one of the cupboards. “Well, I have an idea. It might be a little sugary for you. I don’t know.” He picked up a thin, rectangular box and offered it to me. “It’s my favorite.”

  I took the box and slid my finger under the flap. Cookies ‘n Cream Crunch, I read off the top. I reached in and picked up a tiny handful. Lifting my hand, I dropped the cereal in my mouth, chewing tentatively. And even though I felt neither the sudden flare of hunger I’d expected nor any sensation of fullness, I kept eating. And as I went on I found something had changed for me, and the realization made me pause.

  I didn’t want to die anymore. I almost wanted to live.

  Lawrence

  Wilson looked up, seeing me heading right for him. Apprehension did cross his face. He set aside the clipboard in his hand and faced me wearily. “What is it now, Cavanaugh?”

  I stopped right in front of him. I was breathing a little hard. I hesitated, trying to answer his question without sounding crazy. I quickly realized there was no sane explanation for what I was doing here, so I just came right out with it. “I found Elaine Windzor on the corner of Hewitt and Aachen. She’s in bad shape, Wilson. I’ve never seen anything that thin that was still breathing.” I shook my head. “I need a place for her to stay. For a while.”

  Wilson stared at me in slight horror. “You mean to tell me you rescued Elaine Windzor - Elaine - and now you want me to house her for you?”

  I didn’t try to say anything. I just had a feeling he wasn’t done.

  Wilson shook his head, coloring a bit. “What in God’s name are you thinking, Cavanaugh? What is it you plan to do with her, anyway? Fatten her up and find her a nice family? It’s not like with a horse, Cavanaugh.”

  “I know that.” I puffed up defensively.

  “And what about your history with that woman? You couldn’t stand her, Cavanaugh. She made your life hell. And now you’re rescuing her? Why?”

  “I couldn’t leave her there, Wilson.” I looked at him, feeling my forehead tighten. “It doesn’t matter what she did. No one should die like that.” Blood flow was quickening in my veins. “Do you really think she deserved it, Wilson? She married the wrong guy and had a thing for me, so she should slowly starve and decompose like trash on the side of the road?”

  Wilson fell back a little. “Alright, Cavanaugh. Alright. I hear what you’re saying.” He straightened up again. “But why bring me into it? I don’t like this whole thing. It’s too strange, too risky. Too many ways it could go bad. Real bad.” His eyes implored me.

  I looked at Wilson. “I don’t know what else to do with her,” I told him. “My old room’s still here. I’ll keep her in food and get her out of here when she’s stronger.” I shrugged, leaving it up to him. “Please.”

  Wilson sighed heavily. He looked at me, clearly wary. “Fine, Cavanaugh. Bring her in.”

  I grinned at him in relief. �
�Thank you.”

  He turned away, disappearing somewhere.

  I went back to my truck, where Elaine sat in the passenger seat. When I opened the door her head turned. “What are we doing here?”

  I helped her down from the cab. “You’re gonna live here for a while.”

  “What, as the new mascot? Night watchman? Wilson agreed to this?”

  “No one will even know you’re there. You’ll just stay in your room and get your strength up. When you stop looking like death, we’ll find you a job and an apartment.” I steered her through the stable.

  “You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you.” She looked kind of doubtful.

  Ignoring her, I reached the door and opened it. Switching on the light, I stepped back. “Here it is.”

  Elaine stepped past me, walking into my old room. The cot was still against the wall. Other than that, there was really nothing in there. She kept looking around, finally turning to me. “This is a fucking shit hole.”

  I winced a little. “It’s a fine room!” I yelped.

  She shook her head almost pityingly. “I can’t believe you actually lived here.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I argued weakly.

  “It is.” Elaine walked the length of the room, hitting the opposite wall in a few strides. “God, I want my mansion back.”

  “Oh, come on,” I protested. “You always said that place was a big fancy cage with art on the walls.”

  She looked at me with her head cocked slightly. “I like art,” she said simply. “I just didn’t want to be art.”

  I nodded. “I know what you mean.” I looked directly at her as I said it.

  Elaine’s eyes widened in her hollowed face. “I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I’ll never be able to apologize enough.”

  I shook my head dismissively. “It’s okay. Don’t even worry about that right now.” I entered the room, checking things over. It could’ve been warmer but at least she was protected from the elements. I would have to keep her in food and water. Nonperishable food. Like cereal, or something.