Botero's Beautiful Horses

by Jan Conn

  At one point, Stacey remembered hearing Amber somewhere on the bank behind her, calling her name. Stacey didn’t answer because she didn’t want to be disturbed. She didn’t have any pants on for one thing, and she felt dizzy suddenly, maybe from the beer, and Mike was standing on a log wearing her bra over his eyes like they were the latest rage in safety goggles.

  Stacey didn’t know where she was, only that she wanted to give herself up for consumption, be transformed and away from all she had learned.

  You’re on the pill, right?

  The words tilted her world toward sobriety, and she heard Aunt Sadie speaking off in the distance, and while she couldn’t understand the words, she knew she was talking about the diaphragm she’d introduced to Stacey, the one back in Fernie, because when they started out, she could never have imagined being in the situation she was in now.

  I’ve got to go, she said.

  Wait. You can’t leave. What about your pants? Where are you going?

  By weaving her way between the side streets and away from the last of the late-night revellers, she found their motel, receiving one cat whistle as she made her way through the yellow fluorescent glow of the town. She had her own key, but she had left it down by the river. She didn’t know how exhausted she was until she knocked on the door and Amber opened it. Then, no matter what questions Amber asked, she could only respond with laughter.

  32

  The next morning, they got their deposit back and left early. Amber had to wait in the car while Stacey cleaned up the motel room, despite Amber’s insistence that the chambermaid would do it. Amber drove and Stacey sat beside her, the waist of her pants inside the car and trapped by the window, the legs flapping out of control at highway speed. They’d driven back to their rendezvous from the night before, and Amber had found Stacey’s pants, the legs floating in an eddy at the side of the river, soaked. No sign of her bra. Either Mike had kept it as a souvenir or some fisherman later in the day would find a memento of one who had gotten away.

  Do you believe in fate? Stacey asked.

  Fate?

  Yeah, you know. The life you’re living was predetermined somehow, and you couldn’t escape it if you wanted to. I don’t know. Do you?

  I don’t know either, but I’m thinking about it. I somehow got lost in Hope. That can happen, I guess. But there must be ten thousand people there in the summer, and I had a two in ten thousand chance of Della and Sage finding me and deciding what they did. I could have been found by nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight other people. That’s true. You could have.

  But I wasn’t. Don’t you see? Strange things happen to people all the time, and when they do, you hear them say, Well, what are the odds? It’s like my destiny was just a matter of time.

  Amber drove past a policeman parked at the side of the road. I’m glad I wasn’t speeding, she said. It’s possible he wasn’t looking for speeders. It may have been Constable Hereford on the lookout for missing kids.

  Then Amber said, I know what my mom would say. She’d say when things happen that we can’t control, it’s an opportunity to learn something. She’s into tarot cards and horoscopes, that’s why she thinks that way. I never question her about it, but it seems obvious to me. Of course you’re supposed to learn from it. You learn something when you walk into a brick wall. At least you’d better.

  When they got to Midway, they filled up with gas and kept driving. Amber could get an extra shift at the golf course if they didn’t stop. Stacey didn’t want to go anywhere. She wondered if her Aunt Sadie would be there when she arrived. She might have taken their road trip as an opportunity to head back to San Jose and pretend none of this had happened. Stacey felt small, sitting there. She had to slow her mind down and wait for one thing at a time. Thinking took time, and there were always options, but for now she didn’t know what to do next. Her pants were drying. That would be something. To put on dry pants.

  Less than three miles from home, the Valiant stopped running. Stacey, now driving, pulled off to the side of the road. They considered walking but instead went to a house up the road and phoned Hart. He showed up a half hour later and tied an old tire onto the back bumper and pushed the car slowly into town and to the front of the house.

  That was illegal, he said when they had finished. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

  Amber walked home, but before she did she gave Stacey a hug that meant something. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Hart could feel it too and turned back into his own house.

  Aunt Sadie stood with the front door opened. You made it, she said. Lucky squirmed between Aunt Sadie’s legs and jumped up on Stacey, almost knocking her down. Stacey had trained him not to jump up on people, but she held his head and ruffled his ears.

  Barely made it, she said.

  Stacey hadn’t told Aunt Sadie why she and Amber had driven to Hope before they left, but she told her now. She told her everything they found out and what remained unanswered. She told her she needed another bra.

  On the long drive back, the two of them hadn’t talked like they had on the way to Hope. Amber, tired herself, seemed to understood that Stacey needed time to sort out her thoughts, and during the ponderous stretches of highway, a lot of thinking took place. Stacey hadn’t learned what she wanted to, and the more she thought about it, the more she understood that it was unlikely to be any other way. She felt wiser now than she had been before she’d gone, as if she had gained a sense of perspective that prepared her for what she knew her aunt was about to say.

  I read all the diaries while you were away. I hope you don’t mind I did that. Martin had to head home, and I had the house to myself, and when I read through them, it was like Della was in the room with me. I could hear her voice the whole time, and she kept trying to explain what she meant by what she’d written. The whole thing is incredulous, don’t get me wrong. None of this should have happened, but it did and that’s that. What they did was stupid and illegal on top of it all, and the whole time, they were thinking only of themselves. My sister especially. I was mad as hell when I read them the first time, and that was how I felt when I went through them again, but there was something... a kind of feeling...

  She was my mother, Stacey said.

  What?

  She was my mother. Everything she did that I can remember she did for me. The only reason she put up with him was because she was afraid we couldn’t survive without him. We never know all the reasons things happen. She looked after me, and she didn’t have to. She wanted to. A lot of bad things happen to kids before they grow up, but none of them happened to me. I don’t like everything about the way things turned out, but in the end, I have to consider myself lucky.

  The dog was lying at Stacey’s feet. He heard his name and got on all fours and put his head on her lap. Stacey had said her piece. Her aunt just sat there and didn’t respond. In the awkward silence, Stacey thought maybe she’d said too much. Been too honest.

  I’m going to tell you something, Stacey. This is the wrong time to tell you, but there might not be a better time.

  Can we turn out all the lights first?

  We can, but why?

  Words are truthful when spoken in the dark. It feels that way. Stacey got up and turned off all the lights and pulled the drapes at the front of the house. Then she sat down prepared to listen.

  The thing is I’m not your aunt. Not really. But I feel like your aunt. If that sounds stupid, I can understand that, but the thing is... the thing... is I’m less your aunt than you think I am.

  What do you mean?

  Our parents, Della’s and mine, were older when they raised us. That’s because they weren’t having any luck making children. Your mom, Della, they adopted, and two years later, they had me. This often happens to couples. Anyway, Della and I were raised as sisters, but we weren’t biological sisters. You may have wondered why we don’t look much alike. That’s why.

  Stacey kept petting Lucky on the head, over and ove
r. She didn’t look in her aunt’s direction while she listened, and in the darkness, she wouldn’t have been able to see much of her if she had. It was her turn to be silent, but this time it didn’t feel difficult to bear.

  If you have any of that rum left, I think I’d like some.

  Martin left two beer in the fridge for you.

  I think I need rum.

  There was a quiet to the heat of summer that reflected the life she now lived. A still life. She didn’t have a job and didn’t have the energy to look for one. She went to visit Sage once and left him a box of shortbreads at reception but didn’t go in. Aunt Sadie had to return to San Jose for two weeks to deal with her business leases, and during that time, it would be up to Stacey to think about it. It being the plan her aunt had outlined.

  A plan felt dangerous. A plan suggested the intention to move from something you knew to something you didn’t. Her aunt had been drunk when she outlined her proposal, while Stacey sat on the couch and watched what looked like two of her aunts, waving their arms in the air, explaining. If she absolutely had to, her aunt would stay in Fernie until Stacey graduated. Eleven more months. She didn’t want to live in Fernie. She liked the town, but her home was elsewhere. So she suggested to Stacey that she move to San Jose with her and graduate there. They could sell the house, since Sage would never return home, or rent it out. The rent would help defray the cost of things, though Aunt Sadie made it clear she would pay whatever Stacey needed no matter what she chose to do. Martin said, with what had happened to her family, it wouldn’t be a problem getting her into a good school. Martin owned three fashion boutiques and could get her a part-time job if she wanted one. During parts of the explanation, it sounded like Martin’s plan, but her Aunt Sadie seemed genuinely excited about the prospect. She’d never stayed in one place long and had never had kids of her own, and this was a chance to change things. Lucky could come if she wanted. Some people in the neighbourhood had dogs. She’d have to walk him in the morning and again after school, but it would be doable. Or, Lucky could stay with Hart. Stacey could decide. After she graduated, there was Santa Clara and San Jose State right there. She could be anything she wanted to be. This was a chance to think about the future. To decide what she wanted out of life.

  And so her aunt set her up for two weeks of torment and misery. She wouldn’t ask her aunt to hang around Fernie against her will. Even if she stayed, as she said she would, it wouldn’t feel right. Once again she thought of Della as Mom, and she wished her mom could talk her through it. She thought about the times her mother had explored her own family history, how Della’s dad wasn’t one to do much of anything, unlikely to take a chance, while Della’s mother would try anything on for size. Her aunt and her mother didn’t look much alike, but the real difference was how they’d patterned themselves after different parents.

  The few times Stacey got together with Amber, she pretended everything was fine. If she explained what she felt, she knew Amber would champion her cause and petition her parents for Stacey to stay with them through grade twelve, an option Stacey wouldn’t consider. Amber’s brother still lived at home, and the house was small, and she wasn’t willing to take a chance on destroying what she and Amber had cultivated over the years. Some things you couldn’t ask of even your best friend in the world.

  Hart said he would look into getting her car running. He’d been at it for a week with no luck. One day while he worked under the hood, Stacey asked him if he’d like a cup of coffee. He said he would, and the two of them sat on the front step. Stacey had baked him some cookies and put them in a plastic bag, and she could see that, at the present rate of consumption, Molly the Nose would be lucky to sniff the crumbs.

  Is everything all right? Hart asked.

  I’m good, she said.

  You’ve been through plenty this last year, what with your dad failing and your mother passing. I want you to know if there’s anything we can do, you just let us know. Molly loves coming to people’s rescue. Not that you need rescuing or anything. But you know what I mean. Any time, night or day, just ask.

  Hart got back to work on the car, and Stacey went to lie on her bed. Growing up, there had been ample opportunity for her to think things through from her bedroom. A bedroom remembered everything you’d been through. The walls were patient listeners and didn’t ask questions.

  She took Lucky down to the dikes by the river. He loved it there because of the other dogs that he could play with. She sat and stared at the grey current, and Lucky sat beside her and did the same. She loved the way the trees along the river offered a verdant curtain, as if to cover the shy river sliding behind them. Sage had come to the river often to fish, but one time Stacey walked along the dike and saw him sitting on the same rock she was on now, just staring out at the persistent flow, trying to figure out something in his narrow life that wasn’t clear to him. Lucky was smiling, Stacey was sure of it. In a few hours, he would be hungry, but for now he had everything he wanted.

  August 3rd the sun rose, diminished by cloud, but warm, the day humid for such an early hour. Stacey left a note on the kitchen table. She needed a walk but wouldn’t be long.

  She wanted to go by herself.

  Through town and up the hill to St. Margaret’s Graveyard. Hundreds were buried up on the hill with no grave markers, miners who had passed away outside the reach of relatives of any kind, but Stacey stood in front of a modest flat stone that read: Della Avery Howard, 1933-1987. People raved about the views from St. Margaret’s, but Stacey didn’t see how that would benefit her mother now. People have plans when they’re alive and able to think up plans, and then they die and everyone understands they were plans that only work for people who are living. Visitors standing tall could see the mountain glory from the ridge. Maybe the cemetery wasn’t designed for the dead at all.

  Stacey knelt down, not in prayer, but reverently. She conjured up dozens of memories of her mother, like how she always made sure Stacey had a new outfit for the first day of school every September. She said these thoughts out loud. No one else was around to hear, but it didn’t matter anyway. Where one went when they died wasn’t obvious to her, but it was possible her mother could hear every word she said. She hoped so, anyway. As sad as it had been, she thought of how, only days before her mother had passed, she’d struggled to get out of bed to tell off the man who tried to claim Lucky. Her heart felt swollen as it did every time her mind travelled back to when she was in her mother’s care. She would take the feeling with her wherever she went.

  Martin had everything packed in his new SUV. If they flew there, she would have been allowed a suitcase at best, but with driving, they had room for anything she could think of that meant something. Boxes filled with her vast collection of stuffed animals and the books she had been raised on. She’d packed her mother’s teapot, old and cracked but able to manufacture the best-tasting tea ever. And clothes. She didn’t have that many clothes, and pretty much anything in her closet seemed valuable. On the way back from the cemetery, she tried to imagine what it felt like that summer, two years old, walking frantically between large trees and total strangers, walking without direction, seeking a solution to being alone. No one could remember the exact nature of their thoughts and feelings at such a young age, but she thought the experience must have left a residue of some kind. Everything that happens leaves some kind of history, recorded or not.

  The front door to the house was open and so was a door to the back seat of the car. Martin and Aunt Sadie were still inside. Lucky stood close to the car, anticipating instructions to hop in. Martin came out with something wrapped in his arms and headed to Hart and Molly’s house. Aunt Sadie stood at the front porch looking uncertain, the way people do when it comes time to move on.

  I think we’ve got everything, Aunt Sadie said.

  I know, Stacey said. Come inside for a minute. We need to talk.

  33

  People were prone to make comparisons. One day to the next, a month, a year. A n
eighbour who had just moved in and had a yappy dog might be compared to the previous owners who played piano. August had always been a month when foul weather ruined someone’s camping trip, and when the plangent sound of rain filled the valley, people found comfort in it. This year it had rained only once in August, a windy month, though the wind presented only a hollow threat and didn’t bring much if any cloud cover over the valley. The forests posed a fire hazard—something people worried about even when rain fell. Most felt a certain discomfort, an uneasiness when things changed from what they expected. Why hadn’t it rained more? Did this mean more snow than usual in the winter? Could it be there wouldn’t be enough snow to coat the surrounding mountains? How long did one wait before one spoke to the new neighbour about that dog that found any excuse to bark: a crow, a cat, a pedestrian, a passing car, an apple obeying gravity and thumping to the Earth? Time clothed in routine had a deliberate quality, but change caused time to break; it became harder to account for, and perspectives changed, as if it were natural to keep resetting one’s internal clock. August was a long month.