On the Hooves of Horses

by Emma Taylor

  I ran with trepidation this morning. I was angry and hurt and wanted to sprint as fast as a racehorse, but my body just wasn’t up to the challenge. My head was throbbing from the beer and my calves were sore from walking in heels. I had grabbed my backpack, more out of instinct than anything else, before I left the house. After running along the road that led to the cliffs of Spring Beach, I found a quiet spot to reflect.

  “When will it get easier Haylie?” I said out loud.

  Knowing I wouldn’t get a reply, I reached for my backpack and unzipped it. Inside I found my sketch book and pencil. I began to sketch my surroundings. The path I’d just run, the ground beneath me, the trees in the background. But I was drawing blanks. I searched out over the cliff face and saw the waves crashing against rocks. Maybe not to sketch, but it made sense photographically. If only…yes! In the bottom of my bag was my camera. I was looking for it the other day, in my organsied mess, but had forgotten I had it serviced before we left Queensland. I must have thrown it in my backpack and forgotten about it. It still had the order number attached. I peered over the edge. Heights had never been my thing. Well not lately anyway. Not since my sister decided to tragically plunge to her death. When we were children, we were not afraid. We were fearless. Courageous as we jumped from two storey bedroom balconies into our backyard swimming pools. Brave being on the Ivanhoe Dam walls, looking down at gushing gallons of water. Staunch in our approach to perilous mountain hikes and perhaps a little heroic racing to the tops of the tallest of Gold Coast high rises just to see who could get there first. Oh, the innocence and imagination of childhood. But that was then and this is now. And now I felt too close to the edge. I could feel rocks sliding underneath my feet. A huge gush of air stampeded out from my lungs and out through my mouth forcing me back to safer ground.

  “Perhaps I should go down to the beach and capture from that angle.”

  In the horizon, I could make out surfers bobbing up and down. They looked small, from the distance, minuscule as I got closer. They kept disappearing behind the surge of the sea. I had great light to photograph the scenery. Waves were crashing hard against the rock. The powerful force had chipped away at boulders over the many hundreds and thousands of years, forming ledgers, craters and divides. There was no rhyme or reason to the onslaught of the ocean, which made the formations it had created that much more beautiful. I had begun to sell my artwork, sketches and photography whilst I was still in High School through contacts my art teacher had made for me.

  “Prodigy.” Mrs. Bosworth would say.

  “A marvel. A true talent.” She would tell my peers. I didn’t see the fuss. I just wanted people to see the beauty that I saw in things. It was easy for me, to relay what was in my head and put it down on paper or photographic paper. Perhaps I was talented. I just saw it as a necessity for everyone else to experience nature’s exquisite beauty. Daniel Roseland, my agent also saw that need. Well, maybe he just saw the dollars he would make from my ability to transform a blank piece of paper into an artwork people were willing to pay hundreds of dollars for. He signed me instantly and I had my first show at the age of 14. Leading up to Haylie’s suicide, my pieces were edging up into the thousand dollar mark and beyond. Today was the first time I had taken photos or felt any form of enthusiasm of creativity. The most expensive piece I sold was also my favourite. It was a picture of Haylie. She was doing a cartwheel at night-time. I blurred her silhouette, highlighted her blazing hair and blacked out the background. It was amazing. It looked like her hair was on fire! It sold for $1700. Unfortunately that amount of money also bought the negative and the prospect of me ever reprinting. That was over six months ago. Two weeks before Haylie left me. Alone. If I knew then…

  I’m not sure if Daniel will take any of this. However, it is a start and it felt good to clear my head a little. I was in a frenzy of creativity and hadn’t noticed the day passing by. Or the two surfers that were standing behind me, pumped from their morning workout.

  “You got your shot yet?!” One called, startling me. I almost lost my balance on my uneven stone platform.

  “Not quite!” I called back, pointing my camera in their direction, zooming in and clicking away.

  “Now I’m done.” I gingerly made my way over to the familiar feel of sand. Queensland or Tasmania, sand still had a very distinct sensation. My feet slid on some mossy rocks that were bordering the sand. My body jolted. Reed quickly grabbed my right forearm. “Wow, you right there?” His hand felt cold, but clean and fresh. His fingers were firmly wrapped around my arm and I noticed the wrinkles on them from being in the water too long.

  “Yeah, I’m fine Reed.” I said slowly.

  “You sure? You looked like you were going to faint.”

  “Just a bit slippery on the rocks.” My stomach let out a horrendous growl.

  “Might be my cue for lunch.”

  “Lunch? It’s 3 o’clock, Jayde.” Lucas said.

  “What? No, it can’t be. I haven’t even eaten breakfast.”

  “Heads up.” Lucas said as he retrieved a beautiful, shiny red apple from his duffle bag.

  “It’s not poisonous is it? It almost looks too perfect.”

  “You’re in the Apple Isle now sleeping beauty.” Lucas smiled as he mocked me. All this time, Reed still had his grip on me. The pressure eased off and his hand had become warmer, enclosing my skin.

  “You seemed to be deep in another world over there. Are rocks really that interesting?” Reed asked as we headed up the beach.

  Lucas looked down at his bleeding ankle. “They’re pretty interesting when you get cut up on them. Man I got caned.” On his last wave in, he got dumped on the jagged rock edge.

  “That looks bad man. You sure you’re gonna be alright to drive?” Reed joked.

  “Shut up, Reed.”

  Punching him playfully on the shoulder, Lucas added. “Anyhow, I’m outta here. Catch ya in a couple of weeks.” He farewelled Reed then turned to me with his dazzling and cheeky grin.

  “And I will see you in a couple of weeks too, Miss Queensland.”

  “Oh so charming. Get outta here man.” Reed laughed, motioning for me to walk with him.

  “Would you like a ride? It’s the least I could do after making you walk home last night.”

  I didn’t want to rely on anyone. I didn’t want to have to say yes, but I really didn’t want to torture my feet anymore. Reed sensed my indecision. “My car is just here. Really, I promise, no more walking, ok?” He laughed gently. I looked up to see a man-made car park behind the low growth foliage. There were only a handful of cars parked there.

  “Why do you doubt me so much, Jayde?” Why do I doubt him so much? Is he kidding? Why do I doubt myself so much?

  “It’s just a hop, skip and a jump.” He smiled. I smiled back, taking the next needed step. He was leaning up against his car, a worn out Toyota 4x4 that had seen many a dirt and bumpy road over its lifetime, some quite recently, judging by the state it was in. There was so much mud and grime on it, I couldn’t tell what its original colour was.

  “I guess I’m just trying to figure you out.” I said directly.

  “Like your car for instance. I half expected to see some latest model, shiny and new.”

  “Owh.” Reed mocked looking hurt. “So I surprise you!”

  “Well, yes a little. But then again, what’s the going rate for painters these days? $20 bucks an hour? $25? So maybe this jalopy is applicable.” I smirked.

  “For your information, Miss Miller, I work with my Uncle and charge myself out at $35 an hour, but besides that, even if I had an insurmountable amount of cash at my disposal, I wouldn’t trade this beauty for the world. She’s reliable, she’s comfortable and we’ve got a great history. We’ve earnt our history together. Hopefully we’ll have a great future. I trust her. There’s something to be said about trust.” He ran his hand along the side of the bonnet as if he was talking to the car, soothing it after I had so rudely insulted it. I laughed out lou
d.

  “It’s a car, Reed. Not a dog or a girlfriend.”

  Reed reached out and grabbed my hand, taking me off guard. He cupped my hand in his. They were strong, manly yet soft and gentle on mine. I felt butterflies trembling inside me. They opened their wings and began to flitter about. With one gentle, magnetic tug, I was pressed up against his body. My body contours were molding into his half naked, near perfect substance. I began to flush. The butterflies were dancing around, flapping their wings and fluttering hard.

  “Jayde.” He said intently and direct, demanding eye contact.

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  He leaned in, cupping my chin with one hand, drew me closer by the small of my back with the other hand and kissed me. Reed kissed me. I let him. More to the point, I liked it and I wanted him to keep kissing me. His lips were spongy, plump and warm. There was no resistance. I just melted like vanilla ice-cream on hot apple pie. He slowly released me from his embrace and spoke first.

  “How about that ride?”

  I tried to avoid eye contact with him. It was far from my first kiss, but it may as well have been. I felt so out of my league.

  “I’m sorry, Jayde, did I hurt you? I know I’m coming on strong. Is it too much for you? I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He rambled on in half finished sentences. He actually looked worried. It just dawned on me then that this radiant, confident Romeo was just as nervous and vulnerable as I was. It would’ve comforted me more if I had let him go on his tangent, but my insecurities were not his problem.

  “Reed?” I said quietly.

  “It’s ok. It’s ok that you kissed me.” He stopped walking in circles and faced me. I tentatively reached for his hand.

  “I liked it.”

  * * *

  “Where have you been young lady?” My father’s questions begged for answers before my feet had even reached the back porch. He was sitting on the swinging wicker chair that was perched in the darkest corner of the house perimeter. If it hadn’t fit so perfectly there, like it was made for that exact spot, it would be almost creepy.

  “I went for a run.” I hissed. Poor dad. He really did his best at being a good parent, but he just didn’t have much authority. He rarely raised his voice at us growing up. He never physically disciplined us. But he loved us dearly. I looked at my father’s down trodden face, sitting in the grey corner. He blended into the surroundings. The heartbreak he had endured over Haylie’s death was evident. His glossy dark locks were thinning and going grey. His once glowing, Italian descent skin was now ashen with deep crevices of worry where the happy laughter lines should have been. His eyes were sallow and outlined by dark circles. His thick rimmed glasses kept slipping from his nose. He must have lost 20kgs since Haylie died, almost overnight. I can’t pretend to even begin to understand the torture my parents must feel over Haylie’s suicide. I don’t understand what I’m going through and I sure as hell don’t understand what the hell Haylie was experiencing to put us all through this living agony today, tomorrow, or the next.

  “Sorry Dad.” I simply said. He patted the spot next to him. I breathed a sigh of defeat and headed for my punishment.

  “Don’t blow this out of proportion, Jayde.”

  “Me!? She—” I was cut off. I could see this was one sided. Of course he would side with mum. He always sides with mum.

  “Just hear me out. No interruptions. You remind me of Haylie when you do that.” He smiled.

  “It’s been a tough time on us all lately. It will get easier, sweetheart, but we just need to stick together. No more of this fighting. It’s not doing any of us any good. Your mum is hurting. It would destroy her if anything happened to you too.” He looked into his hands, like he was reading notes he’d written, for this conversation was always going to happen at some point.

  “The nightmares, Jayde?” Oh great, here we go again. I know exactly where this is going.

  “Do you think maybe…”

  “No Dad. No, I’m not going back on medication. I’m sure they will stop soon. It feels like they’re coming to an end.” I pleaded. This was one battle I didn’t want to lose. The last time I was medicated, I was a walking zombie. It stopped the nightmares, but it also stopped me from being me. I felt hazy and blurry, like I was walking around in a fog with my feet floating 20cms from the ground. It was mum who suggested that I stop the meds. She didn’t have either of her girls while I was in that state. Dad meant well, he didn’t want to see me in the morning, traumatized from the night before. He didn’t want to hear his baby girl gurgling and gasping in the middle of the night like she was being strangled to death. Medication was not the answer. Haylie was reaching out for me, I’m sure of it. She had something to tell me and when I figure it out, I know the nightmares will stop. This I am certain of.

  “Just go easy for a while ok? I’ve got the rest of this week here, but then I fly out. I would like to do so knowing that you’ve got each other’s backs. That’s what we do in this family, look after each other. No matter what. I need to know that you can do that, that things will be ok.”

  The weary man before me had no fight left in him. I could see he felt like he was failing. Failing to see the signs before Haylie’s death. Failing to keep me sane. Failing to see our once tight knit family unit together, happy. If I could do anything to release him from that pressure, I would and I will.

  “Mum and I are fine, Dad. We’ll have this place picture perfect before you get home. I will try my best to fit in and get life back on track.” There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes as I spoke.

  “As a matter of fact, I have made a few friends and you’d be proud of me…I’ve been taking some snaps today.”

  “Oh honey, I’m always proud of you.”

  “Dad it was amazing! The light was superb and the scenery is just so exquisite. I was completely lost in my own world.”

  “Is that why you’ve been gone so long?” Mum said, appearing from behind the front door.

  “You were working?”

  “It’s so pretty and natural at the beach. There really hasn’t been much human intervention.”

  I was excited. Mum edged over to the swinging seat, evaluating the room left on it before she tried squeezing in to my left. She obviously didn’t evaluate that well. A little too cosy for my liking.

  “So I lost track of time. I will be more considerate in future,” I said, rising from the seat.

  “You do have to remember that I am an adult now.”

  “We know that, honey. But you have to remember you are still our daughter and we only want the best for you, always.”

  “Oh, by the way, a pretty little thing dropped by earlier asking for you. Grace? I think that was her name.”

  “Damn, I forgot I said I’d call her. Do you mind?” I asked, not really waiting for a reply.

  “Sure, go ahead.” Dad said. He was just glad mum and I were talking. I was too. It would get a little desolate if were weren’t when dad had to travel. He had a good job. A great job actually. He worked for BHP Billiton, travelling to underground mines in Australia. He was the man with all the knowledge and expertise. Dad had a team of about 20 underneath him, but he was the go-to man. We were lucky really, because he was one of the highest paid managers meant mum never had to work. It was great that she could be home after school, come to all our school functions, carnivals, theatres etc and because dad worked 21 days on, 10 days off, a lot of the time, he could attend too. Not many of our friends had one parent that could come, let alone two. But it also meant that mum was the disciplinary parent, Dad, the fun one. We had good times with mum, but everything was schedule. Always on a time table. ‘You have to have routine.’ She would say. I don’t know why because once Haylie and I were at school full-time mum had all day to do her duties. Still, she is very particular about things.

  ‘There’s a place for everything and everything in its place.’ Haylie and I would joke that one day we would put that phrase, Mum’s favourite, on her tombstone.<
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  I grabbed the phone from the bottom of the stairs and ran up to my bedroom. I lost enthusiasm half way up, feeling my calves. Oh my poor calves. There was a creak in one of the steps, I think it was fourth from the bottom. Mental note to self: Remember to tell Dad.

  I opened my bedroom door to find it spotless. Aah, the clean Queen has been in here. My bed had been made to military standard. I threw my backpack in the middle of it, creating just a hint of a ripple making it not so perfect. Just the way I liked it. I kicked my sneakers off in two different directions. Now it looked more like a bedroom room, not an infirmary. It was a pretty cool room. The ceiling sloped on one side, in line with the house roofline. It had a large bay window with an old toy box underneath covered in plush cushions. It was a great spot to sit and look out over, well, over the bush. Our neighbours weren’t visible from our place. I’m not even sure we had permanent neighbours or if they were shackys, but if we could see them from anywhere in the house, this would be the spot. At night you could make out the road, only due to the headlights that sometimes cast shadows on my bedroom walls. However, we’re not in the city anymore, it’s not exactly Grand Central Station.

  I propped myself up on my king single bed. The design of the room probably wouldn’t allow for a much bigger bed and reached for the drink coaster with Grace’s number that was tucked under my bedside lamp.

  “Hello?”

  “Ah yeah hi, is Grace there?”

  “Yeah I’ll just get her…Is that you Rachel?”

  “No my name’s Jayde.”

  “Oh sure…GRACE…PHONE…”

  No sooner had I heard the phone land abruptly on the bench, I heard footsteps getting closer and louder.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Grace. It’s Jayde.”

  “Oh, hi you. You’re alive hey? Thought you were going to call me this morning? I was beginning to think loverboy had you holed up in his bedroom somewhere.”