Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three

by Zoraida Cordova

  “Hay is for horses,” he says.

  He’s such a sexy goof, and I love it. I roll my eyes at him, but feel a twinge in my heart from this small, playful exchange. I gather around Jillian with Maddie and some of the other patients.

  I feel like I’m the only one that looks nervous. For the past week I’ve been allowed to feed, water, and brush Apollo. It’s a show of good faith, building a connection—more hippie stuff. The worst part was getting used to the smell. The second worst part was waking up early enough to do it. Jillian is up at five a.m. and somehow manages to look peppy and bright five hours later. I envy her dark-circle-free eyes.

  She claps her hands and smiles. She’s on an exchange program with some equine group from Spain, and I’m pretty sure she was born riding a horse, the way she does it.

  “Okay everybody. Today is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Some of you have ridden before, but for some of you it is your first time. No matter what, it is important that you stay calm. Horses are very sensitive to their riders. Trust your horse, and your horse will trust you, my father always said. Christopher is going to help you with the saddles. Take deep breaths if you’re nervous.”

  “Of the horses, or of Hutch?” Maddie asks.

  Jillian chuckles, and Hutch just shakes his head.

  We get helmets and gloves. My gloves are a little big, but it’s all they’ve got. Hutch throws saddle pads, then the leather saddle on Apollo’s back. Suddenly, the horse seems too tall, too big. My heart starts to race, and I don’t know if it’s my nervousness about riding or that Hutch is standing so close.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” I blurt out.

  He looks over his shoulder. I’m the last one—again—and no one heard me over the horses neighing and stomping their hooves.

  “We can’t do this now,” he says.

  I’m hot with anger. I still have to hold onto his shoulder as he helps me onto my horse. Once I’m up there, I sway.

  “Whoa,” I say, as Apollo moves a few paces back and forth.

  “River,” Hutch says in his calming way. “He’s just getting used to your weight.”

  “All hundred pounds,” Maddie mutters, already mounted and trotting to my side. It only makes Apollo skittish.

  “Hundred and thirty,” I correct, gathering my reins.

  “Whatever,” Maddie mutters.

  Jillian whistles to grab our attention. She rides up and down our line, inspecting every one of us, even Hutch. He looks like he’s been pulled out of a John Wayne movie, in his denim shirt with pearl buttons. His jeans do something fantastic to his thighs.

  Turn around, I tell myself.

  “Chris,” Jillian says. “You take the rear, yes?”

  Hutch tips his hat. I’m the only one who thinks this is hilarious. But then, I’m the only one who freezes up. I can feel my whole body hunching forward. Every step sends a pain up my tailbone. How do guys ride these things without crushing their balls?

  “You’re not riding a tiger,” Maddie says, turning around in her saddle. “Relax.”

  Easy for her to say. This isn’t her first time. I watch the way they all do it. They don’t bounce, but move with the horses. They also dig their heels into the horses’ sides. I’m not exactly a member of PETA, but I feel bad about kicking Apollo. He seems to be enjoying lagging behind and snatching up the leaves along our path.

  Hooves sound behind me. “You’ve got to pull on the reins. Don’t let him eat. It’ll spoil him.”

  I pout my bottom lip and brush Apollo’s mane with my fingers. “Maybe I didn’t feed him enough before.”

  “Or maybe people say ‘hungry as a horse’ for a reason.”

  Hutch holds his reins with one hand and lays the other one on his knee. He looks like he was born on a horse, too. I wonder how long it would take for me to be that comfortable riding. I sigh, and do as Hutch tells me. I squeeze my legs, and suddenly Apollo starts walking forward on his own.

  “They’re used to following each other, but they don’t have the best attention spans. Like people.”

  “Says you,” I tell him.

  “Oh, you don’t have a short attention span?”

  “Maybe I do, but I don’t generally like to follow anyone.”

  He nods in silent agreement.

  “How come I don’t have a cowboy hat?”

  He smiles, and rides beside me instead of behind. Even though things are inexplicably weird, I don’t mind. I feel calmer just talking to him.

  “Because if you fall, you’re going to need the helmet.”

  “And here I was doing such a good job of staying calm.”

  “It’s funny,” he says, “that you’re so nervous.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

  All I see is a huge smile, and the blush on his face before he tilts his hat forward. “You just make a mighty fine cowgirl, is all.”

  I take a deep breath and shut my eyes at the memory of me straddling him. He’s so big that when he stretched out he took up almost his whole bed. I’ve been surviving off that memory like a super model on a single slice of toast. My skin tingles as I remember moving with him, back and forth and back and forth. Is he thinking about it too?

  “You don’t get to flirt with me after ignoring me for a week.” I hate that it takes his smile away, but it needs to be said.

  “I know, River. I’m all turned around. So let’s talk about it.”

  “Now?”

  Except we can’t. Up ahead, Jillian whistles. There’s a truck driving by. The old man waves at us as he drives up ahead to the road. I realize it’s the first car I’ve seen in days outside of our parking lot. Growing up in the city, cars and sirens were just part of the ambiance. I never thought I could get used to a place without that kind of noise. I wonder, when did the shift happen?

  “Are you guys ready to try trotting?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

  Apollo walks in a circle as I pull his reins too hard to one side. Hutch catches up with me.

  “Easy,” he says. “Don’t psych yourself out.”

  I take a deep breath. “No, I’ll leave that to you.”

  “Funny,” he mumbles. “Here, I’ll go ahead. Shorten your reins and give him a kick. Not too hard, but just enough.”

  “That means nothing to me,” I say.

  Still, I do what he says. I squeal and make all kinds of scaredy-cat noises as Apollo trots behind everyone else. I can’t remember if I’m supposed to squeeze my thighs or not. Either way, this is going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow morning.

  Hutch makes a clicking noise with his tongue and kicks the sides of his horse. There’s a challenge in his smile. He canters beside me. His body moves with the horse, not against her. Meanwhile, I feel more and more like a turtle. If I could retreat my head into my body, I would. I’m so tense, and I don’t know how to let go. The further we go, the better everyone gets—except for me. I bring my horse to a stop. He stomps around and makes a noise that sounds a lot like a laugh.

  Hutch pulls on his reins and comes to a stop beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right. I always thought I’d be a natural, you know? But I think I’m starting to realize that I’m not really good at anything other than poker. What am I supposed to do when I leave here?”

  “River—”

  “Don’t River me, Hutch. Let me freak out, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll freak out with you.”

  He lets me ride ahead. The others have stopped trotting and now race. Apollo makes a raspberry sound, and I fear even my own horse is laughing at me.

  “Is it weird that I felt more at ease stealing my dad’s car when I was fifteen than this?”

  “That’s a hunk of metal,” he says. “This is another living thing. Riding requires more trust.”

  Hutch leads my horse with his. They walk side by side. As the trees fall away, and we come onto an open field that goes on as far as I can see, I commit thi
s moment to memory.

  “When I was a kid we lived up at Flathead Lake,” he tells me, “we lived near a stable. I’d ride my bike five miles to go look at the horses. My dad didn’t send any money and my mom drank up whatever we had. One of the stable hands would see me standing there with my bike, staring. One day he called me over and put me to work.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen. The first horse I ever rode threw me right off. Damn thing was skittish as hell, but he was my favorite.”

  I laugh, trying to picture what Hutch would have looked like as a kid. “At least my dad’s Chevy never threw me off its back.”

  “See, you’ve already got one up on me.”

  Out of nowhere, I realize we’re going faster. I swallow a gulp of air and relax my back. I feel more confident, so I kick Apollo. He picks up speed. I let out an excited yelp.

  “Atta girl,” Hutch shouts behind me.

  I don’t look back as we race across the green grass. There isn’t quite a feeling like this. The wind beats against my face. The sun shines, peeking from behind clouds that resemble mountains. The other patients ride freely, zigzagging back and forth in the clearing up ahead. There’s still too much space. So much so that I can feel like I’m riding all by myself.

  After a while, I pull on the reins. Apollo comes to a halt in front of a leafy bush and starts chomping away. I rub his neck, and pull at bits of hay stuck in his mane.

  “I did it, Apollo,” I tell him.

  While Apollo eats, I get to watch Hutch ride. His shirt’s come undone a few buttons, so it blows open to reveal the glory of his chest hair. I never used to like chest hair, but on Hutch, I got used to it in seconds. He snaps the reins. The black horse zooms across the field with him, the mountains and sky their backdrop. His hat flies right off his head. Even as far away as he is, he looks up to where I’m resting, like he knows I’ve been watching him all along. Like he was showing off just for me.

  I wonder, how different would my life be in a place like this? Is that all it takes to change the way you live? Pick up and move somewhere new. Put on new clothes. Be a different person. I wonder.

  As we ride back, I fall somewhere in the middle of the line. This time Hutch takes the lead, and Jillian takes the rear. I feel myself getting tired and hungry. How do people eat granola bars like it’s satisfying to munch on something that leaves the roof of your mouth raw?

  When we get back to the stables, Jillian and Hutch help us get down. I wait my turn, intending to help put the saddles away because I want to be able to do this again.

  Taylor comes out of the stable. His shirt is drenched in sweat.

  “Need some help?” he asks.

  “I’m good.”

  “If you’d rather wait for Hutch, just say so,” he says, smirking.

  Guilt and anger make me speak before I can think better on it. “I’d rather wait for anyone but you.”

  His face gets scrunched up and mean-looking. He runs off with the pail he’s carrying. Deep down, I know Taylor’s not someone I want to cross around here. No matter what brave face I want to put on.

  Apollo goes crazy, neighing and bucking under me. I’ve let go of the reins, and now I can’t get them back.

  “Easy,” I shout. “Whoa!”

  But none of my words calm him down. Something’s spooked him. I grab a handful of mane to keep myself on his back, but that makes it worse. He rears his front legs high in the air. I hit the ground hard, on my back. My whole head rattles.

  It takes three tries before I can breathe again, and two more before I can open my eyes.

  My name is shouted from all different directions. Then I’m floating. I’m on a cloud.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” Hutch whispers. “Please, River. Look at me.”

  I shake my head, and instantly wish I’d kept myself still. “I can’t. There’s five of you.”

  My head rolls to the side. The last thing I see is Taylor, standing at the fence with a great big smirk on his face.

  Chapter 17

  “What. Is. That?” I hiss.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” a male’s voice tells me.

  I grab for my covers and try to pull them over my head, but they get snagged on my neck brace. “Can you close the drapes?”

  “They are closed,” he says.

  The pain in my mind is crushing. I’ve never felt pain like this before. A few seconds later, as I try to sit up, I realize that every inch of me is in pain. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are throbbing. I, River Thomas, whimper.

  “Who the hell are you?” I mutter.

  “I’m your nurse.”

  “Hey, Nurseman,” I say, “get on with the painkillers.”

  He shakes his head. His smile is youthful. I bet he’s younger than me. Fresh out of school. His cheeks are flushed, and his brown eyes are—I can’t look anymore. It’s too bright in here. My people assessment is going to have to wait.

  “Sorry. We can’t give you anything for the pain.”

  “Are you fucking with me? I fell off a horse!”

  “And Debbie broke her foot trying to run away. You should’ve heard the things she called me.”

  “What does she have to run away for? It’s not like she’s in prison.”

  He doesn’t answer me, which tells me all I need to know. Some people, like me, are here voluntarily. But most of them are here because otherwise they’ll lose their kids of end up in jail.

  “How long was I out?”

  He checks some stuff off a clipboard, then comes to my besides and fluffs my pillows. Even the slightest shake of my bed sends needle prick into the inside of my skull.

  “You’ve been in and out of it for a day.”

  “I can’t even remember,” I say.

  “At least you’re finally catching up on your sleep.”

  “Who says I haven’t been sleeping?” I tell myself to calm the hell down. But when have I ever not been confrontational? I sink into my bed, deciding I do feel well-rested. Who knew the answer to insomnia was getting a concussion? Somewhere Nurse Sky Lopez is shouting about my faulty science knowledge.

  “You’ve had visitors,” my nurse tells me. He points to the table on the other side of my bed. There are wild flowers picked from the garden, hand written notes folded up. There are latex gloves blown up and scribbled on with Sharpie. One says, “Ride ‘em, cowgirl!” and another says, “Get well soon!”

  “Are we still at Horse Creek?”

  “Nope,” he says. “Welcome to Hamilton Hospital. We’re the sister hospital to the recovery center.”

  “Why does that sound familiar?”

  He gives me a pitying smile. “This is where we treat patients who require psychiatric help.”

  I jolt up and swing my feet off the bed. Helen really did it; she sent me off!

  “You’re not in psych,” he tells me.

  Blood pumps adrenaline to my heart.

  “Maybe you should lead with that!” I shout.

  He’s looking around the room, looking for help, when Hutch walks in. Hutch is wearing black cowboy boots covered in dust, his jeans tucked into them. His gray T-shirt stretches across his broad chest muscles. The vein in his throat throbs, and his jaw tightens. He looks at my nurse, then he looks at me.

  “Are you okay? I heard shouting.”

  Despite how painful it is, I laugh. “Did you know that Nurseman over here wants to be a comedian?”

  My nurse turns scarlet, mumbles something under his breath, then leaves. Hutch shakes his head, chuckling. He tucks his thumb into the waistband of his jeans.

  “Already causing trouble?”

  I pull the covers over my head and groan. I don’t want him to see me like this. My mouth tastes gross, and I think that stale smell is coming from me. I hear a chair being dragged from one end of the room to the other. Hutch’s heavy footsteps march back and forth.

  “There,” he says. “Better?”

  I pull the covers down, ready to squ
int. The room is a shade darker now that he’s hung an extra bed sheet over the window.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling myself blush.

  River Thomas does not blush.

  River Thomas also does not ride horses.

  River Thomas should stop referring to herself in the third person.

  Hutch pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. He rests his elbows on his knees, leans forward a bit. I sink into my pillow, hating this brace around my neck. A wave of anger and frustration washes over me.

  “Why are you crying?” he whispers. He grazes his finger across the top of my hands. It’s the softest touch, like he’s ready to pull away if anyone were to come in.

  “I just feel stupid. I don’t know what I did that made Apollo kick me off.” I pull the covers over my face so Hutch doesn’t have to see me blubbering. I wish I could knock myself out so I would stop crying. I hate crying. I hate the tightness in my chest and the way my eyes swell. I haven’t cried since my dad died, and that was the first time since my mom left. I make it a point to not cry when I fall down, or get dumped, or a guy treats me like shit, or when I fuck up. Most importantly, I don’t let other people see me cry. “Don’t look at me.”

  Hutch pulls gently on the covers. I let them fall. I tell myself I’m too tired to be contrary. I let him see the worst of me.

  “You’re not stupid,” he tells me. “Something spooked Apollo. Maybe a snake.”

  I hold his hand like a lifeline. My thoughts feel fuzzy, but there’s one image that stays with me. Taylor grinning while Hutch was carrying me away. Could Taylor have spooked my horse from so far away? That’s a pretty big accusation without having proof. I’m a newbie on a horse; they expected me to fall. Maybe it was a snake. A snake named Taylor.

  “When did everyone bring these in?” I point to the gifts on my bedside table.

  “Last night.” He thumbs the side of my hand.

  I can feel my eyes start to flutter shut. I could fall back asleep with his brown eyes watching me. Something inside of me feels all tangled up, like I’m caught in a net and can’t get myself free. I pull my hand away and drink from the glass of water at my bedside.

  “Thank everyone for me,” I say.

  “Thank them yourself.” He smiles ruefully. “Now that you’re awake, we’re going to transfer you to our medical wing.”