Horse

by Talley English

  Bedroom

  Teagan couldn’t sleep, again. She seemed to have trouble getting to sleep, or staying asleep, and both were new to her. She wondered who her father had been talking to on the phone the other night. She was wide awake. Maybe her father was awake, too. Maybe she could talk to him. She got up. She looked out at the barn. A floodlight was on. There weren’t any animals. She walked downstairs. A light was on at the end of the hallway. She walked toward it. Her parents’ door was open. She walked in. Her father was talking on the phone.

  “Just a minute,” he said and put the receiver on the side table. “Teagan, go to bed,” he said.

  “Who are you talking to? Where’s Mom?” she said.

  “What did I just say to you?” He was angry.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said.

  “You can’t sleep because you’re not in bed,” he said and grabbed her shoulder and pushed her out the door and closed it. She stared at the closed door, then knocked softly.

  “Dad?” she said. She could hear his voice talking again. “Dad,” she said. “Will you open the door? Please?” She knocked again and tried the doorknob, her heart beating fast. It was locked. “Dad,” she yelled. “Dad, open the door. Open the door, Dad, please.” She yelled and pounded on the door with the side of her fist until it rattled in its frame. She shook the doorknob. On the other side of the door was silence. She thought that Charlie would hear and come tell her to be quiet. No one told her to be quiet. She went back to her bedroom and lay in bed.

  Ball

  Occasionally, Teagan went to Charlie’s games. She would sit next to her father while he threw his fist in the air and clapped and yelled. She would wait for him to calm down and then lean lazily against him and watch her brother run back and forth on the court.

  Somehow Teagan’s job was to practice basketball with Charlie whenever he told her it was time to practice. She never questioned it. He would track her down in the house, basketball in hand, and tell her to put her shoes on. Not questioning it was easiest. She thought that maybe if she said no, her parents would yell at her. Later, she realized that that didn’t make sense. No one made her practice with her brother. It was his air of authority that made her tie the laces on her sneakers, as if she’d been given a decree: one shall put on one’s shoes when one’s sibling says to put on one’s shoes.

  It was as if her compliance was a thing inherited, like a recessive gene or a tendency toward risk taking. They would go to the school gym, which was kept open after school and some on weekends. She didn’t really like basketball, but she didn’t dislike it, either. Maybe it was that she was never allowed to do what she wanted with the ball. If she dribbled the ball, Charlie would tell her to stop, and if she went for a layup, he would tell her not to waste time. She caught his rebounds and passed him the ball again.

  “Pass me the ball,” Charlie would yell.

  Teagan wondered why he almost always said this, as though it was a different command.

  Teagan shoved the ball back to him in a two-handed throw, then she would stroll backward from the net to see if his shot would go in. Wherever it went, she sprang forward to grab it, even though there was no one to compete with.

  Charlie usually stayed where he was and waited, and said, “Pass me the ball,” but one day he asked Teagan to play defense.

  “Man to man,” Charlie said.

  “That won’t work,” Teagan said.

  “Yes, it will. I’ll teach you,” Charlie said.

  He didn’t get the joke.

  “Woman to man,” Teagan said.

  Charlie just launched into telling her what he wanted her to do. “Don’t let me get to the net,” he said.

  “Okay,” Teagan said, and she didn’t. She defended so well that she ended up stealing the ball from Charlie while he was dribbling.

  “If you don’t let me get to the net at all, I can’t practice,” he said.

  “I take my instructions seriously,” Teagan said.

  After that, Charlie didn’t ask her to play defense again.

  Railing

  Gums balanced on a fence post. She went up to him and he rubbed against her. She climbed up and sat on the next post. He trotted along the top rail on wide paws. He walked over her lap, then back again, and resumed his spot. After a while he seemed to get annoyed with her sitting there, watching him, and he walked away across another railing to another fence post. Shakily, Teagan stood up with her arms out and walked the railing to him. Seeing her coming, he walked to the next post. She followed him and figured out that going quickly from post to post was easier. If she could maintain her balance across the railing, then she could steady herself for a moment on the wide fence post. Gums jumped down. Teagan kept going along the fence line, to see how far she could get before she fell.

  Robert

  He was away. His clothes were in the closet. His tools were in the garage. Susanna said that he would be home that weekend, but a couple of weekends passed and Robert wasn’t back. Charlie shut himself in his room. Her mother was quiet, and she was gone from the house more. Instead of doing her homework after school, Teagan went to the barn. She wasn’t supposed to ride by herself, but she did.

  * * *

  —

  The dark bay horse, Ian, was in the field. Didn’t Robert need his horse? It was his horse. Charlie and Teagan had been born into a family with horses. She’d never known life without them. It was Ian who made Teagan think her father would be back. It didn’t make sense to her that he would leave a horse.

  * * *

  —

  Teagan walked out of the bathroom at the same moment Charlie walked out of his bedroom. She felt she hadn’t seen him in days. No one in the house seemed to be talking, as if silence had infected all of their voices. She put her arms around her brother. He let her and patted her on the back, then broke away.

  Away

  Charlie said that their parents’ problems were none of their business. He wouldn’t talk about it.

  Teagan had thought of going to a school somewhere else. “I just want to,” she said.

  A few days later Susanna told Teagan to get on the phone. Hope was on the line. She had gone to high school at a girls’ boarding school with a riding program. The school was in the state and a few hours away. Teagan wouldn’t have to leave Virginia.

  “Can I really go?” Teagan asked her mother.

  “Are you sure about this?” Susanna frowned at her daughter.

  “Yes,” Teagan said. “Can we afford it?” she asked.

  “Do you want to go or not?” Susanna said.

  “I want to go,” Teagan said.

  * * *

  —

  Susanna and Charlie drove Teagan up to Hunting Hill School for a tour. The main building of classrooms was large and looked like a house, with a peaked roof, rows and rows of windows, and a double front door. The “school yard” was long and green with giant old oak and elm trees. The tour guide from the admissions department showed the group of girls Miss Guinevere’s Garden, a sunken lawn lined with flowers and flowering bushes, where graduation took place every year. Teagan couldn’t believe how beautiful everything was. She even agreed to the dress code without arguing with her mother about it. Charlie was quiet on the trip. He didn’t seem to have anything to say about the school, but he was one year away from graduating. She doubted he was interested in high schools. Teagan was just starting. And she’d have her horse, too. She couldn’t believe her luck that such a place existed. She didn’t like leaving Grace, but they would see each other on holidays. Teagan would write to her.

  Drink

  Grace didn’t ask where Teagan’s father was, and if she had, Teagan couldn’t have told her. She knew he wouldn’t come home again, although this thought was vague. Grace was spending the night. They talked about school and how Teagan was going away. Grace sat on the f
loor of Teagan’s room, sorting through a pile of T-shirts. Teagan explained that she had to wear collared shirts to class and “no denim” (Susanna had to explain that meant no jeans), but on the weekends she could wear what she wanted. Grace was helping her go through her clothes. Their priority was which real clothes to take, ones she could wear on weekends.

  “I might come home a lot of weekends anyway,” Teagan said.

  “You still need to wear something, don’t you?” Grace said, holding up a soft, faded blue T-shirt with a starburst across the chest. “Can I borrow this?”

  “I guess so,” Teagan said.

  Grace put it in a pile of things for herself. “We can trade on weekends,” she said. “Do you think you’ll have parties there?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” Teagan said. Then, feeling like she should make the school sound better, she said, “I know you can sign out to go to things. Plays, and stuff like that, I think. And, I think there are things with other schools. Dances with boys’ schools,” Teagan said.

  “Dances?” Grace paused, a yellow shirt in her hand to go into her “borrow” pile.

  “I know,” Teagan said. “Are you going to parties next year?”

  “It depends, I guess,” Grace said.

  “Druggie parties,” Teagan said.

  “That was so weird when Scott and those guys did that at the end-of-year party,” Grace said.

  “They’re stupid. Getting a head start on high school, I guess,” Teagan said. She grabbed a red T-shirt that had THE PHILIPPINES written across it in yellow and was printed with a volcano and palm trees, which Grace was holding up. “I want that one. I don’t think I’d want to be drunk. At a party, I mean. Especially if you don’t know people there. You’d just end up acting stupid,” Teagan said.

  “Have you been drunk?” Grace said.

  “No. I’ve never really had anything. I mean, I’ve had sips at supper. Charlie will have a beer sometimes. But I haven’t, like, really had a drink,” Teagan said.

  “Me either. But I was thinking that I probably should try it out beforehand,” Grace said.

  “Try out getting drunk?” Teagan said.

  “Well, I’d rather do it at home instead of in front of a bunch of strangers.”

  “That kind of makes sense,” Teagan said. “What do I wear to class if I can’t wear jeans?”

  “Khakis,” Grace said.

  “Gross,” Teagan said. “So are you going to do it? Get drunk?”

  “I don’t see why not. My parents have a liquor cabinet. I looked in there. It’s mostly sherry.”

  “What’s sherry?” Teagan said.

  “Tastes like vinegar,” Grace said.

  “I can’t believe you’ve already been in your parents’ liquor cabinet. You’re a budding alcoholic. Hey, we could drink here. My parents have a cabinet, or my mom does, and there’s beer in the pantry, but it’s warm. I think you drink beer cold, but whatever. Do you want to try?” Teagan said.

  * * *

  —

  They went to sleep, but Teagan set an alarm. At two in the morning, they went shopping in the kitchen. Grace suggested a snack so they wouldn’t get sick. Then they took turns taking little sips of everything in the cabinet. They found some bourbon and gin, and bright green crème de menthe. They split one of the warm, foamy beers. Grace liked the crème de menthe the best and continued drinking it. Teagan took sips of the bourbon. Her eyes watered while it burned her throat, then it tasted sweet like honey. They wondered how they would know when they were drunk. Grace suggested trying to write something, and when they couldn’t write anymore, they would probably be drunk. Before Teagan could find paper, Grace said she had to pee, right away. Teagan said she had to pee right away, too. They couldn’t decide who should go first. Grace said that they had the whole yard. Teagan said she was so right, and they went outside to pee in the yard. Teagan had trouble squatting and sat in her pee. Grace had taken her shorts and underwear completely off and then couldn’t find them. Teagan laughed and couldn’t get up. Grace finally found her clothes but said she couldn’t remember how to put them back on. They had a fit of laughing until Teagan said they’d wake up her mother. Grace got dressed and they lay down in the grass, even though it was wet and the night was cold. Grace said she was sure they were drunk. Teagan said that the stars looked really, really bright. Grace vomited.

  Injured

  Zephyr didn’t come when she called him. Teagan walked his field and found him.

  “What is this, Zep? Are you hiding from me?” She held the carrot out, and he crunched it. She put on the halter and pulled on the rope, but he wouldn’t step forward. She turned her back on him and gave small tugs on the rope, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, she reached back and hauled him forward by the halter. He took a few steps and then stopped again. “What’s going on, boy? Something bothering you?” she said. She looked him over but couldn’t see anything wrong. She pulled on the rope again and he walked forward, and she walked faster, trying to keep his momentum up, and then she noticed that he was limping. She stopped and stared at the leg. It looked fine, but she knew something was wrong and didn’t want to believe it. She walked him forward, and he limped behind her. She led him up to the gate, stopping every few yards to let him rest. By the time she got him to the barn, she was fighting back tears. She wanted to blame someone. She put him in a stall and jogged to the house.

  “Mom,” she yelled as soon as she was in the door. Susanna didn’t answer. Teagan banged on her mother’s bedroom door before pushing the door open. Susanna was on the phone. She put a hand over the mouthpiece. “Teagan, I’m on the phone with your new school.”

  Teagan sat in the kitchen, staring ahead of her, as if in a waiting room.

  Susanna came in. “What’s going on?” she said.

  “Come look. Zep is limping,” Teagan said.

  Susanna seemed to loosen. She said, “Show me.”

  Teagan led the horse into the barnyard.

  “Walk him in a circle,” Susanna said.

  Teagan led him in a circle in both directions.

  “He’s favoring that back leg,” Susanna said. “I’ll call Hope. I’d say we should wrap the leg, but I don’t know. I don’t want to make it worse.”

  “It’s bad, right?” Teagan said.

  “It’s not good. But this is lucky. The vet is coming tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?” Teagan said.

  “We need a certificate for a negative Coggins test before I can send him with you. Put him in a stall and give him some hay.”

  * * *

  —

  The official letter of acceptance from Hunting Hill School came in the mail the next day, and the vet came in a white pickup truck. In the truck bed a white metal box folded out into trays full of instruments, medicines, and bandages. Susanna walked the horse in a circle, both directions, like Teagan had done, and the vet watched. He picked up each leg in turn. Both back legs were having trouble holding weight, he said. “In here,” he said, running his hand over the front of the leg, just below the belly, “is the stifle joint. It connects the femur with the lower bones, fibula and tibia. That could be the problem.” He ran his hand lower, to the next joint, where the leg narrowed. “Or here, the tarsus. You probably call it the hock, between the tibia and cannon bones. An X-ray could confirm it, or both.”

  “Both?” Susanna said.

  “Some horses are prone to joint problems, especially in the back legs. Do you jump him? Go up or down steep hills?” the vet asked.

  “Both,” Teagan said.

  “That may have caused this to present itself, but it was probably just a matter of time.”

  Teagan felt guilty. All the hills she’d been taking Zephyr up and down, and not at the walk. She loved to let him canter up hills.

  “Can he recover?” Susanna said.
r />   “He can, but probably not all the way. He shouldn’t jump anymore.”

  Teagan froze. “He can’t ever jump?”

  “Jumping him would probably take things beyond repair,” the vet said. “He’ll need stall rest, and then if he improves, he can start out on the flat, walking, and then if that goes well, he can move on to gradual hills, about five minutes, no more, at the walk, increasing the length of time over a period of days. Then we can assess him and see if he can do more,” he said.

  “And how long does he need to do that?” Susanna said.

  “Maybe four months, maybe six, maybe more. It depends on him, really,” he said.

  “Do you need me here?” Teagan said quietly to Susanna.

  “No, you can go,” Susanna said.

  “Do you want to bring him to the clinic for more tests?” the vet asked.

  Teagan couldn’t listen to any more bad news.

  * * *

  —

  In the afternoon Susanna forced Teagan into shopping for khakis and collared shirts. Then she tried to discourage Teagan from packing any of her old T-shirts and offered to buy her new ones in plain colors. Teagan said there was nothing wrong with her clothes, and Susanna went on to list everything that was, in fact, wrong with them. They were both in horrible moods. Teagan couldn’t wait to get out of the car and get away from her mother, and she was irritated when Susanna pulled into a parking lot.