My boots made scuffing noises and stirred up puffs of orange dust as I headed down the hill to the barn. Stephanie and Mom could go make a pot holder together. They could knock themselves out.
During Mom and Norm’s honeymoon, I’d gone to Florida and stayed with Dad and his girlfriend, Susan, and got to hang around their apartment every day. Dad said next visit maybe he’d take a day off work and we’d go to Sea World. Dad didn’t nag me about my pills like Mom and Norm did. He never nagged me about what I had for lunch. Whether I’d taken a shower. I’d basically done whatever I wanted.
Twice last month I texted Dad to see if I could come stay the rest of the summer. When I turned fifteen next month I could get a work permit. But I hadn’t heard anything back. Why hadn’t Dad texted me back?
Mom said Norm really cared about me. She said that when someone reminded you to eat breakfast and take your pills or not to interrupt people’s conversations, it meant they cared about you. Blah, blah, blah. I know the pills make me calmer, but they make me feel so tired and boring. Like I have no feelings. Sometimes I’d rather be mad.
When I got close enough to the barn I breathed in the smells of clean hay, the polished leather saddles and harnesses. One of the horses inside nickered softly. Maybe it was Copper, saying hello.
There was something about that horse. I couldn’t wait to ride him.
Horses didn’t ask questions like, “How are things going at school right now? Are you feeling more able to control yourself these days?” Horses took you for who you were. My shrink came up with this thing where I’m supposed to pick a number for my mood between one and ten. One being basically catatonically calm, i.e., dead. Ten being totally hyper and ready to self-destruct in ten seconds. Five being where you want to be. I call it the Moronic Mood-o-Meter. Anytime I’m anywhere near a barn, I’m a five.
Two barn kittens were playing by the barn gate. One was tiger-striped and the other was black with a white face and paws. They were so cute! On a low stone wall beside the fence slept a big tiger-striped mother cat. One of the kittens jumped up on the wall. He shoved his little nose into the loose fur of her stomach, trying to nurse. With one swat of her paw, the mother cat knocked the kitten off the wall. The other kitten jumped up and tried to nurse. The mother just stood up and left. The poor kitten dangled from her teat as she walked away, dragging him for a few steps. Then he fell off the wall too. Both kittens tried to climb the wall to try again, but the mother ran away.
“Do you have a mean mom?” I sat on the wall and scooped them both up. They mewed, high-pitched, and their tiny pliable claws pricked my skin. Their noses were pink and moist. I held them for a few minutes, feeling their small warm chests vibrate as they purred. Then they jumped from my lap and ran off looking for their mother again.
I ducked through the barn door. Waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. The barn was laid out like a “T,” with the tack room and the office at the top of the T, and the stalls in rows at a right angle. Beams of light streamed through windows above the stalls, making the place seem kind of heavenly. A woman was in the office behind a glass window on the phone. Otherwise I had the barn to myself. I turned the corner and headed down the aisle between the stalls, looking for the little chestnut.
Most of the horses were eating and only cocked their ears when I walked by. At the end of the row on the right, one head poked over the door of a stall.
It was him! I caught my breath when I saw his beautiful face. He had to have some Arabian in him. I’d read that Arabians could go up to five days without water because of their desert heritage. When I got close, he tossed his head. I remembered to slow down and talk to him quietly.
“Hey, there, Copper, buddy, what are you doing? You are such a pretty boy! Yes, a very pretty boy.”
He watched me come closer. His eyelids kind of closed. I held my palm out for him to nuzzle. Shoot, why hadn’t I remembered to find some sugar or a carrot? His muzzle was so soft, but he was nervous. I tried stroking his forehead, but he snorted and tossed his head.
Head shy.
I held my palm still, kept talking. He snorted again, then walked to the back of his stall, but he turned to look at me. A good sign.
I talked some more. “You don’t trust me, do you Copper? It’s okay. It’s hard to trust people.”
Copper took a step toward me, stopped, and tossed his head.
“I would never hurt you. You seem a little wild, but I can tell you’re a very sweet boy.” Copper walked slowly across the stall. Put his head over the gate. Let me scratch between his ears.