Training Harry

by Meghan Namaste

  “I better get you something to eat.” I glanced around. “Maybe an extra blanket, too.” I stepped back. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Elaine thought for a second. “Where can I shower?” She asked, scrunching her nose.

  “The wash stall, at night. It’s heated,” I added to make it sound better.

  “Wonderful.”

  I took a final look around. “If you’re okay here, I should get going.”

  She nodded.

  I went for the door but couldn’t quite just leave. “Are you sure you’re okay here?”

  “Yes.” Elaine sat down on the bed, bringing her feet up to rest on the mattress. “I’m okay here.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Elaine

  It had been a few weeks since Lawrence found me, possibly. I had a vague sense of time now that I was in a place with a routine. I was aware of the sounds outside my door, the mornings when the horses were fed, gulping their pelleted breakfasts and clip-clopping down the aisle to their paddocks. The voices and foot traffic of the day. And the night, when all the horses were locked down in their stalls and the stable grew silent. That was when I could move freely.

  I slept a lot during the day, because there was nothing for me to do inside these grey spackled walls. When I wasn’t asleep I listened to the goings on in the barn, sometimes hearing a familiar voice. I had to carefully listen and wait before I made my brief daytime forays outside of my room. I wasn’t ready to see some of those people. Not that they would know who I was anymore.

  I was hurrying back to my room when I met Wilson coming down the aisle. I stopped dead, almost afraid to face another person. Wilson just looked at me in shock. I could sense his horror at my condition.

  We stood facing each other a moment. Then Wilson dropped his eyes. “Elaine,” he said respectfully as he moved aside.

  I still had to remind myself to eat. I never felt that instinctual, rhythmic hunger, so at certain points in the day I would force myself out of bed, pick up a box or bag and consume something by rote. It was working. I was growing stronger, slowly rebuilding myself.

  A few days in, I ventured out to the wash rack in the dead of night, slipping past ponies, their heads protruding from stall windows. Standing on the concrete, I pulled my stiff, dirt encrusted cocktail dress over my head. Ponies peered at me, some interested, others simply bored. They seemed not to care, and I wondered if they had seen Lawrence showering here. I tried not to think about Lawrence showering here. I turned on the water, letting it warm, and I turned the hose on myself and let it soften the grime on my skin, until it flowed down my body and into the drain. And I ran the water on my dress, soaking it through and ringing it out, leaving wet footprints as I walked to my room after shutting off the faucet. And I shivered under my blanket, feeling how it was to feel clean after not caring for so long.

  Lawrence was doing a good job of taking care of me. He always made sure I was well stocked, checking in every few days at first, but now it was down to maybe once a week. It did take him a couple weeks to realize I needed clothes, but he had never done this before. I didn’t hold it against him. He came back that day with a bag of clothing for me. Each item was sized for a small normal person. They were enormous on me. I had to secure the waistband on the sweatpants with baling twine, like some old withered farmer. It looked utterly ridiculous. I started eating more that day.

  Lawrence slipped in the room without knocking. I sat up in bed as he looked around. “You need anything?”

  For once I actually thought of it while he was standing there. “I need a toothbrush. I can feel my teeth rotting from all this sugar cereal.”

  “Okay,” he said, exiting the room right then and there.

  He returned in a while with a toothbrush, an electric one. “There you go,” he said, handing it to me.

  I looked it over. There was a hang tag on it. “Is this from the thrift store?”

  “It’s brand new in the package,” he quickly justified. “I could’ve gotten you one of the loose ones. They were a lot cheaper.”

  “Thanks for your generosity,” I said.

  At night I roamed the stable, watching the ponies. I liked to see their habits, their changing and unchanging expressions. Some of them weren’t friendly, but some were. A few would stand with me, letting me touch their faces. They didn’t see all that was wrong with me. I could show myself to them, and I became immeasurably grateful for their simple acceptance.

  When I got tired of feeling the weight of my dreadlocked hair, I found a pair of horse clippers and plugged them into the wall. The blades quickly sliced through the matted tangle, and I shuddered as it passed over my bare shoulders on the way to the ground. The new growth near my scalp stood up jaggedly, but it was fine and silky when I touched it with my fingertips.

  Lawrence came by to check in. We talked briefly, and I told him what I was running low on. I needed to sneak out, so he helped me, alerting me when the aisle cleared. When I got back to my room he had left.

  I looked up, and there on the wall above my bed was a little thrift store art print in a frame. A Monet, one of the water lily scenes.

  I stood there, and I realized I was crying. Warm tears slid down my smiling face.

  Erica

  The air was crisp as I breathed it in, feeling it settle in my lungs. Soiree’s head nodded along with her stride, reaching down to fill the connection I offered with the reins. I felt her mouth through my hands, the soft, even pressure. Pressing at her side with my calf, I shifted the reins slightly, prompting the young mare to bend through her body. Soiree was green, but already she had the feel of a trained horse. I could tell how uncomplicated she was, and how little she resisted my aids. This was a horse that would make me, and anyone else who rode her, look good.

  I heard Amber’s truck barrel in, and Soiree lifted her head to see better. Gently I refocused her attention on me, sending her forward at a marching walk and then asking her to halt. Soiree halted square and balanced, and I ruffled her mane and stepped off. Exiting the arena, I saw Amber walking up. “Hi, Amber.” I smiled.

  “Hi.” Amber went to Soiree’s head, stroking the mare’s dainty muzzle. “How is she doing? I didn’t know she was cleared for riding.”

  “I just started with her. She’s doing awesome.” I grinned at the mare. “I think she has a lot of talent, and you couldn’t ask for a better personality. She’ll need time to develop, of course, but if all goes well I have big plans for her.”

  “That’s great.” Amber kissed Soiree’s nose. “I’m so happy you’re training her. I know you’ll do a good job.”

  I smiled in surprise, touched by the compliment. “Thanks so much, Amber.”

  Predictably, Amber retreated from the warm fuzziness of the exchange. “I better get Maude,” she said bluntly. “That’s why I came here.”

  “Sure.” I clucked to Soiree and she followed me to the barn. Soon after, Amber reappeared with Maude shuffling creakily behind her. Amber swiftly knocked the dust off of Maude and threw a saddle on her. After bridling the old mare and strapping on her helmet, Amber and Maude left the barn. I heard the heavy thud of hooves as they took off for the field.

  I took my time untacking and grooming Soiree before turning her out. Then I stood at the fence, watching my horses for a while. Lawrence and Harry came back from the field, and I turned my head and smiled in acknowledgment. Some time later, Amber returned on a much calmer Maude.

  Amber dismounted, leading the old mare through the yard. She looked and saw Trucker, standing there unmoving in the front paddock. “Hey, who is this?” She frowned a little, changing her course to see him better. “Is he okay?”

  I didn’t say anything. I watched Trucker as Amber neared his pen. And I saw the fear pass through his still form, the white rimmed eye that stared at her in suspicion. Panic.

  Amber backed off. “I guess not,” she said quietly. She averted her eyes from the gelding. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m going now.”r />
  I just stood there as she walked away, breathing in deeply, relief loosening my arms. Because it wasn’t me Trucker feared. He reacted just the same to Amber, whom he’d never seen before. He didn’t shrink away from me because he connected me with the horrid treatment he’d been through. He didn’t blame me for it. And I could’ve hugged Amber for showing that to me, because I really needed to see it.

  Quick hoof beats sounded behind me. I turned to see Lawrence leading Harry back to his and Vegas’ paddock. Once he’d turned the gelding out Lawrence backtracked, stopping beside me. He followed my line of vision, standing there a moment, then going over to Trucker’s pen. The gelding’s reaction to him was almost calm.

  I watched, thinking out loud. “He seems more comfortable around you,” I said. “Earlier when Amber went up to him, you could tell how afraid he was. But he doesn’t seem to fear you.”

  “He was abused by a woman,” Lawrence said thoughtfully. “You hear so much about horses that were mistreated by men reacting better to women. I don’t see why the opposite couldn’t be true.”

  He unchained the gate, carefully entering Trucker’s paddock. The gelding watched him cautiously. Lawrence slowly approached Trucker, letting him get used to each stage of being closer. Eventually he stood at the gelding’s shoulder. He placed a hand on his withers and just stood there. Lawrence’s whole body was relaxed and calm, almost slouching into the ground.

  It took a while but Trucker finally lowered his head. He began eating grass, snapping up the faded shoots like everything was normal. And Lawrence walked away, releasing all pressure, rewarding the show of trust. Trucker lifted his head, watching him leave. The gelding’s eye was soft. Then he went right back to the grass.

  And I felt that warm condensation in my throat, because, right there in front of me, was a start.

  Wilson

  I stood at the edge of a hotel ballroom, staring up into the twinkle lights. I was in a tux, and my hair was trimmed and combed. Leather conditioner had shined up my shoes.

  The year-end gala was going on around me. Sponsors and patrons everywhere, eating, drinking. Mostly talking about things that already happened. I would probably have to say a few words at the mic later. Every time I mumbled and staggered over words and embarrassed myself. I never knew why they kept putting me back up there. It used to give Cavanaugh a good chuckle.

  I looked into the crowd, waiting. Pulling at the collar of my suit just for something to do. I shifted around, not really going anywhere, but I couldn’t stand still.

  Then I saw Barbara through a gap in the crowd. She was heading right for me. Her blonde hair was up and a few wisps touched her face. She was in a soft lavender dress that reflected the light in tiny sparkles as she walked. I felt my heart thudding in my chest.

  “You look beautiful.” It rushed out of me before we even said hello. I started blushing, avoiding her eyes. Feeling like she could read right through me.

  Barbara smiled. “Thank you.” She smoothed down her skirt, drawing my eye to the shallow curve of her hips before I could stop myself.

  I looked up quickly. My whole head was ablaze. “Can we go somewhere quiet?” I asked. “I….have something to say to you.”

  She nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

  We left the ballroom together. Down the hall there was a smaller event room that was empty. I switched on the overhead light. Barbara faced me, her eyes large and expectant. And I suddenly realized what I was doing.

  “Barbara, I…” I got as far as that and then I shut up in a hurry. What the hell am I doing? I retreated, scurrying backward like a startled horse. My hand went to my temple. I was filled with churning anxiety.

  I understand. That’s what Cavanaugh told me. I understand, he said. Damn you, Cavanaugh, I thought suddenly. How could you understand? He couldn’t possibly understand.

  I stood there reeling. I was trapped. I’d stepped right into it. I stumbled, moving in a tight circle, flinching away from Barbara’s worried gaze.

  Barbara rushed forward, catching my arm, stopping my panicked whirl. “Jeff. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  I stared at her. My mouth was completely dry. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it.

  Barbara stared at me. “Jeff. Why are we here?”

  I looked into her eyes, feeling mine dilate wildly. Sweat rolled down my arms.

  Barbara took a sudden breath. “Oh my God.”

  Marla

  Moonlight shone straight down into the pool, painting the chlorinated water with blue iridescence. I sat under a beachy parasol, at a small circular table with the look and feel of patio furniture. Eyes on my laptop, I bent low over it, checking something once more.

  Slow footsteps halted directly across from me. Alejandro had come by.

  “Marla,” he said. His poolside greeting reached my ears, warm and low.

  I barely looked up.

  He moved closer, coming around the corner of the pool. “What is it you are working on?”

  “Just finalizing travel plans.” I shut the laptop and folded my arms over it.

  He was silent at first. “So you are leaving.”

  “Yes.”

  Alejandro looked down at the white smoothness of the pool’s edge. “So I take it you have found what you are looking for?”

  I looked up into his face. “Yes, I believe I have.”

  He walked over, sitting at the chair beside me. He looked into my eyes. “I wish you were not going, Marla.”

  I nodded. “I can’t stay forever.” I shifted my leg, softly touching his. Then I stood, picking up my laptop and securing it under one arm.

  Alejandro stood up too, sending the rickety table wobbling on its axis. “It just seems so sudden,” he said. His dark eyes held onto me, trying not to let me go.

  I smiled. “Well, you are the only person I have here to say goodbye to.” I kissed him softly, breathing warm steam into his ear.

  “Goodbye, Alejandro,” I said. And I walked away.

  In the morning I packed everything I had. It wasn’t much. I left my room key at the desk and headed through the doors, both of which were hastily held open for me. With my wheeled luggage behind me, skittering over the pebbled walkway, I made my way to the waiting cab.

  Seated on a bench just outside the hotel, there was a young girl, maybe twenty years old. A true blonde, with pale, nearly white hair in fine, straight strands. She was crying, violently sobbing, doubled over and clutching herself. Her body shook with the force of a seizure and her face conveyed the pain of being utterly blindsided.

  “Whoever he is, he’s not worth it,” I said to her. Then I hurried to make my flight back to Florida, so I could drive eight hundred miles to get to the man I loved.

  Lawrence

  I had never bought the theory that everything happens for a reason. There were things that happened that were too horrible to have a reason.

  But now I could look back, and I could see how everything had led me to this. Every event in my life, each shift of luck, even tragedy, had brought me here.

  Eloise had come into my life for a reason. We found each other, each of us in a harsh, volatile place in our life. Elle gave me purpose. She kept me going. Eloise turned me into a halfway decent person, and she taught me how to fly across a polo field, thinking and remaining in control the entire time. She gave me a skill, and a passion. She made me.

  Elle was the only thing in my life that mattered for a long time. She was there for me when I had no one, and I was utterly devoted to her. I would always be. Her breakdown was shocking, a devastating strike to my heart. It brought everything to a stop. I could have gone on, playing the game on other ponies and living the life, but I could not walk away from Elle. I could not leave her in that university hospital to be cared for by strangers. There was no choice for me, on that day. There was no choice. I had to start over.

  At the time, I thought Elle’s breakdown was an end. I came home to Lexington in a deep depression. Elle had been my life
for six years. I couldn’t imagine going on without her as my partner. I thought there would be no polo without Eloise.

  Without Elle’s breakdown, without that loss, that end, I would’ve stayed in Florida. I would not have come back. And I never would have bought Harry.

  It was Harry who brought me to Erica. Through his considerable resistance, his complex nature, his inner trauma and the crushing fear that prevented him from making any real progress, he led me to her. She was persistent, dedicated almost to a fault. Erica saw Harry through months of training, the constant struggle and moments of total, awe-inspiring compliance. She watched him, felt for him, and saw the fear in his eyes, opening mine to it. She stuck it out to the end, bringing me to the cause. Because of Harry, I got to know her. Because of Harry, she was there long enough for me to realize what I was feeling, get past my fear, and do something about it.

  I looked to my right, straight into Erica’s crystal-blue eyes. She sat on Harry, smiling as he strode through the meadow, his hooves crunching over dull, frost-bitten grasses, eyes bright as he looked all around. Erica and I looked at each other, and I touched my heel to Elle’s side, and she lifted into a canter for the first time. Harry surged forward, in step with her, and they flowed across the valley, shooting each other nasty glances, matching stride for stride. Erica grinned breathlessly, and so did I, reaching down to pet Elle’s neck as it rose up into the curve of my hand. Harry’s body soared and his limbs touched down, carrying him on with quiet, beautiful strength. I felt the same sensation underneath me, and I smiled.

  Erica

  We rode out on a warm day in early fall, and the sky suspended over us was a bright, magnificent blue. I could look up and all around, never finding a single wisp of white. The colors had yet to change, and the intensity of the green was all I saw.