TYE’S RETURN TO the bliss of his domestic life was a little different this time. Usually the kids would welcome him back with hugs and kisses. Presents, if any, would be handed out, and of course there would be a kiss from Liz with hints of more passion to follow. But this time, when Tye drove up the long driveway in his truck, there was a different feel to the house. Physicists say the universe vibrates at a certain recognizable resonance, and so, like all families, did the Thomas family. But for some reason, as the man exited the cab of his pickup, he could sense a different rhythm emanating from his home.
Entering, he smelled the welcoming aroma of the pork chops and scalloped potatoes he treasured, but even those, he would later argue, had a different taste to them that evening.
“Aaniin!” he announced, entering the kitchen. Usually the family could see and hear his vehicle pulling into the driveway, followed by the driver’s door slamming shut and the screen door opening. Today, however, everybody seemed to be running on a lower setting. There was Liz, manning the kitchen like a pro, smiling at the sight of her husband. Frequently they would take turns with the cooking, but it was their custom for her to go all-out on his return.
“Welcome home, my sweet.”
Off came his jacket, and Tye leaned over the counter to give his wife a polite but welcome kiss. Normally she would have come around the counter and given him something more appropriate to his being away for three weeks, but her hands were deep inside oven mitts. The scalloped potatoes required her attention, as they can be a harsh mistress to those who are not familiar with their secrets.
Standing a full six feet, Tye still looked as fit as he had when he’d played hockey a few decades back, despite the hours spent behind the wheel of his eighteen-wheeler. He tried to work out when he could on the road, but the anonymous motels he usually found refuge in seldom offered decent athletic facilities. Still, somewhere in his ancestry there was an individual who was thin despite all the moose and fish he ate, and somehow that gene had ended up in Tye’s DNA.
Tye surveyed his domestic kingdom, looking for problems, or some new purchase his wife had made, or clues to some adventure she had embarked on. Returning home was frequently an act of gambling. So far nothing nearly as tragic or dangerous as that Greek guy who spent ten years trying to get home. But frequently, what awaited him on his return was uncomfortably surprising.
“Hey, honey. Is everything all right?” Despite spending three-quarters of his time on the roads of North America, the man still swam through the ocean of the English language with a fairly strong Otter Lake accent.
“Yes. Why?”
He looked around the kitchen. “I don’t know. Something feels off. Usually the potatoes are done. Are you just taking them out? And where are the kids? Are they hiding?”
Opening the oven door, Liz Thomas did her best to briefly explain the current situation. “Well, Tye, it’s been an interesting afternoon.” She closed the oven door, a steaming tray of potatoes and other carbs held in her oven-mitted hands, and navigated her way around the kitchen island to her husband.
Instantly, Tye narrowed his eyes, suspicion making them squint. “What did you do?”
Smiling, she embraced her husband after putting the tray down. “I did nothing.”
“My nothing or your nothing?” Though still guarded, Tye returned her hug, relishing the feel of her warm body in his arms. Though not overtly sexual — that would come later — the warmth of her body, the chemistry of their scents, forgave a lot of misadventures. When Tye held Liz in his arms, spooned with her in bed, and held her hand in the movie theatre even after sixteen years, he could forgive her anything short of a homicidal rampage in the local Tim Hortons.
The hug held comfortably for a time, then, without saying a word, Liz took a step back and turned Tye around to face the Everything Wall. Hidden by the refrigerator, he had missed it when he’d walked in. “What the hell?”
Liz watched her husband’s eyes take in the Horse.
“I call it the Everything Wall. I came up with the idea last week. You know how parents are always punishing kids for drawing on walls and things like that. I thought, why do we do that? I mean, kids should have the right to draw where they want, right? So this is where they had to tear out a part of the wall to get at the water pipes last spring when the leak happened. And we had never gotten around to fixing it proper and painting it to match. So I painted it black and told the kids they could go nuts there, you know, hoping to encourage their artistic selves. It was a hard sell. Harder than I expected, ’cause you know kids today. William took to it instantly, but the others had to be coaxed. But, of course, the real amazing thing, that one, the Horse, was done by Danielle Gaadaw. Remember her? Albert and Hazel’s daughter. Poor thing. I wasn’t here, but she just showed up this afternoon and did that. Have you ever seen anything like it? It just took our breaths away. That’s kinda why everything is late. We sort of lost track of time, looking at it, talking about it. Sorry, my sweetie. The kids should be back any moment. Actually, they should have been back about half an hour ago. They went to the school library to find books on horses. Hey, did you hear, the reserve may be getting the internet? Anyway, there’s some sort of meeting happening tonight, so it’s open. Well, that’s sort of been what we’ve been talking about today. What do you think?”
The entire time Liz was explaining the day, Tye had been looking at the Wall. Shelley’s rendition of William, William’s boat, three dogs, a dream catcher, what might have been a portrait of Brad Pitt, and a plethora of barely recognizable images. And, of course, the Horse, around which all the others seem to be orbiting. But he said nothing.
“Tye?”
“You know …,” he said slowly, “… there’s a reason most people don’t let kids draw on their kitchen walls.”
The smile on Liz’s face began to fade. “You don’t —”
“I mean really, Liz. You want our kitchen to look like this? Some of the places I drive through, this kind of stuff is sprayed on city walls everywhere. And you want to put it in our kitchen? I don’t get it.”
“But the Horse?”
“Danielle Gaadaw drew that? Seriously? Did you see her do it?”
This was not going the way Liz had expected. Now she was feeling defensive about something that not that long ago had taken her breath away. “No. I was shopping. Ralph says he saw her do some of it. As she was finishing it.”
“I think they’re putting you on, Liz.” Poor Liz, always gullible, it seemed to Tye.
For Liz, the Wall was an entryway for the imagination, but it helped if you had an imagination. Before his career as a truck driver, Tye’s understanding of geography had consisted primarily of knowing what cities NHL hockey teams and their farm agencies came from. He loved and adored his wife, but men like Tye didn’t really care about what could be; he was too busy dealing with what was.
“The kids like it,” Liz responded defensively.
At that moment, the door opened and three bundles of Indigenous youth stormed in the room, two directly into Tye’s arms. “Dad!”
When they’d seen their dad’s truck, Ralph and Shelley had thrust their books into William’s hands and raced in through the door. William felt a little awkward, putting the books on the table as the family reunion took place. Taking his eyes off the Thomas family, he once again looked at the Horse. It looked back at him, almost taunting him, which he found unnerving.
“I was wondering where you guys were! I thought maybe you found another father or something.”
Denials filled the kitchen as Tye half wrestled with his kids. William noticed a slight look of sternness on Liz Thomas’s face. Life in his difficult house had taught him to read people, and he knew that look. But he seldom saw it within these four walls. “Did you see the Horse? Did you?” asked Ralph.
Their father’s mood changed. “Yes, I did. It’s very good.”
“Good?! It’s amazing!”
“Let’s talk about it later. I think dinner’s going to be a little late. Come on, let’s go in the living room and you can fill me in on your week. You, too, William.”
Instantly William was in the other room. Liz could hear Ralph excitedly asking his father, “Did you bring us anything fun?”
“From Brandon?!”
Liz remained alone in the kitchen. She had hoped that somewhere in her husband’s experiences and soul existed a small part that could relate to the Everything Wall and, just maybe, the Horse. It didn’t look like it. Part of her big fear was that maybe, someday, Ralph’s interests might begin drifting towards Tye’s universe. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the big guy, it was just that his universe extended only so far. There were borders, like that on the reserve. And his universe didn’t include flights of fancy.
Almost forlornly, Liz found herself standing in front of the Horse, sharing her ideas.
“I wish he could see you.”
LATER, DURING DINNER, as he told an interesting story about almost hitting a moose on the highway, Tye noticed the three kids frequently looking over their shoulders at the Horse, their attention drifting away a few minutes at a time. The head swivelling became annoying in a remarkably short period of time.
“Hey, are we having dinner in our house or some art gallery? Eyes on the table.” All three quickly complied. “That Horse will still be there after we eat.”
“Dad! You should draw something!”
“Yeah.” A momentous occasion, as Shelley seldom agreed with Ralph on anything. Seems the arrival of the Horse held many advantages for the Thomases. Now it was Tye’s turn to look over his shoulder at the Wall.
“Kids, I’ve done karaoke, I’ve danced at a few weddings, even did one of those eulogies at my father’s funeral, but there are several things I cannot and quite probably will not ever do in the artsy world, and one is draw a picture of anything. My talents lie elsewhere. I’d like to see that Rembrandt fellow drive my big rig in reverse, or Da Vinci figure out how to shift my twelve gears.” All three kids laughed. Liz dutifully ate her scalloped potatoes, choosing wisely not to comment.
Tye looked at the image again, sizing it up, trying to put a label on it other than a picture drawn by small, skinny, weird girl who lived over in the non-status part of the community. Horses like that did not come from such beings. Just before dinner, the three youngsters had meticulously gone through the three books they’d brought home from the library, looking for anything that might give them a clue as to who or what the Horse was, or even where in the world it could have come from. There were plenty of equine representations in those books, but nothing that quite matched the majesty of what was drawn on the Everything Wall. What was most amazing to Tye was the fact that, other than the occasional squabble, Shelley and William almost seemed to be getting along. Almost.
And it was the sister who’d suggested that they broaden their investigation. They were looking at pictures of real horses. Maybe they should look at artistic illustrations of horses. Both Ralph and William agreed this was a good idea. Seldom had Tye seen such joint focus in the three kids. On the surface he liked it, but as with all change, it did elicit some concern.
“You saw her draw this?” Tye asked this as he put more salt on his potatoes. His wife never put nearly enough on.
Liz put her fork down. “Tye —”
“Just trying to get a better context of what’s going on. That’s all. Well, Ralph, did you? Did any of you?”
For a brief second, all three kids looked at each other before Ralph spoke. “Just the finishing touches. It was almost completely done when we came out here.”
“Then how do you know it was her?”
Once again, Liz uttered her husband’s name. “Tye!”
“Come on, Liz. You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious. Does that look like a ten-year-old could draw it? Well, how can you be positive that” — he pointed to the Wall — “came from her?”
This was a line of questioning that took the three kids by surprise. It had not occurred to them that what they believed might not be. Liz could see her kids wrestling with the dilemma set before them by their father. But before she could intercede, Ralph spoke up after quickly glancing at the Horse. “She was the only one here. In the kitchen. Shelley let her in.”
Then his sister took the baton. “I gave her the chalk. And we saw her start. Right at the beginning, but we were playing cards and forgot about her. We didn’t hear anybody else come in.”
“Besides.” Now it was William’s turn to speak. “Who else would draw that? Could draw that? Nobody I know. If I drew that, I’d want everybody to know. Mr. Thomas, I didn’t see her actually put that Horse up there, but I am pretty sure it was her. Don’t know of a lot of crooks running around, breaking into houses to draw horses on the wall. If so, that’s kind of sad.”
Liz tried to put her last piece of Shake ’n’ Bake pork chop in her mouth, but it was rather difficult as her mouth was currently otherwise occupied with a broad and proud smile beaming across the table. The three kids, whose combined ages didn’t add up to her husband’s, had presented a logical and moderately impassioned argument.
Tye didn’t dare look at his wife. His chop tasted too much like crow.
A FEW HOURS later, Tye came out of the bathroom, a dab of toothpaste on his left cheek. Liz was waiting, still carrying traces of that earlier smile. “Well?”
Tye stopped in his tracks, taking his T-shirt off. “I know better than to ask ‘Well what?’ This is about your Anything Wall, right?”
“Everything Wall, you stupid truck driver. You know that very well. I want it to stay, at least for a while. I know kids, especially ours, and they will probably get tired of it in a few weeks, maybe a month or two, but until then —”
“You realize it’s just a form of domestic graffiti. Most parents go out of their way to prevent their kids from drawing on walls. Especially at their age.”
“I will never say no to my kids.”
“Don’t they have an art class at school? Let them draw on the walls there.”
Silence found its way into the Thomas bedroom. Liz looked out the window, even though it was late and utterly black outside. “Tye. I want to keep the Everything Wall.”
Weary after three weeks on the road and four hours dealing with his wife’s current obsession, Tye had little energy left. Once again, the door slammed shut on what was logical and made sense, just to make his wife happy.
“Yeah, sure.” He sat on the bed.
“The kids love it.”
“I got that impression.”
“It fosters creativity.”
“Yay.” The man slid into bed beside his wife and turned out the light on his night table.
“Tye, you really don’t think there’s something special about that Horse?”
In the darkness, there was a sigh. “Liz, I don’t know much about art, horses, or that Gaadaw kid. If you say it’s special, I believe you. I met a driver in Vancouver once whose son could play six or seven games of chess all at the same time. Amazing to watch, but after a while it wore off and life continued.”
Liz’s voice cut through the darkness. “How horrible.”
“What? Life continuing?”
A pillow across Tye’s face prevented further conversation.
FINDING DANIELLE AT lunch the next day wasn’t that difficult. She was eating a bag of chips near the parking lot, alone as usual, basically occupying time and space until there was someplace else to go, something to do. That’s where Shelley and Ralph made a quick survey of the playground and located her from across the field. Danielle gave them a shy smile as they came closer, once again hesitant to meet their eyes. She noticed a large paper bag in Shelley’s hand.
“Hey, Danielle,” said Shelley.
“Hi,” added Ralph.
Danielle smiled, and both siblings could see her saying the word “Hi” but so softly neither of them actually heard it. All three felt uncomfortable at the atypical nature of the conversation. Under normal circumstances, none of them would have a reason to participate in a drawn-out conversation, being in different grades and from different parts of the reserve. Contrary to popular belief, Native communities have many of the same social classes as communities off the reserve, especially when it comes to the complex world of school and its various hierarchies. Colonization had its fingers in all the pies on the reserve.
Shelley cleared her throat. “That was just an amazing horse you drew yesterday. Totally amazing. Wasn’t it, Ralph?”
He nodded in agreement, looking for something to add. “You should be very proud.” Ralph suddenly realized he had just sounded like his mother. He made a mental note not to sound like that again.
Not really knowing Ralph’s mother, the young girl didn’t notice, only shrugging at the compliment. She ate another chip, finding the ground in front of her seemingly very interesting.
“Mom says you can come over any time you want, if you want. So do we.”
“Thank you.” This time both heard it, though again it was barely above a whisper.
“Oh, and we have this for you.” Shelley held out the paper bag with something moderately heavy in it. She waited for Danielle to take it. Even more nervous, and not used to this much attention, Danielle took the bag hesitantly, its weight taking her by surprise. It was obvious to brother and sister what she wanted to ask but didn’t have the self-confidence to utter.
“It’s your present, like an award. For winning the Everything Wall contest. It’s from our mother.” Ralph nodded in agreement with his sister. “She went and got it first thing this morning. There was nobody even close to what you did on the Wall.”
“I think William was a little annoyed.”
“Yeah, but nobody cares. Take a look, Danielle. It’s for you.”
Lowering the bag onto the hood of a nearby Honda Prelude, Danielle nervously reached in and pulled out a large, weighty picture book. She smiled as she saw what the subject matter of the book was. “Look, horses. Lots of horse pictures.” She immediately started leafing through the glossy pages, her attention focused. “Thank you.”
“Do you ever say anything other than ‘thank you’?” asked Ralph, half jokingly. Deep into her book, Danielle didn’t respond. Instead, she flipped another page, then another, her eyes taking in all the different images of horses. Briefly it reminded the two of the previous evening, watching her cross back and forth into this other world she seemed to prefer. Shelley and Ralph stood there in the parking lot for a moment, watching her, not knowing what else to say. It felt like they had been forgotten.
“Um … well …” Shelley looked at Ralph.
“I guess we should be going.” Again there was no response from Danielle. It seemed Ralph and Shelley’s existence in her world had been replaced by the photographed horses. The little girl had climbed into the book. Danielle sat down on a red railing that bordered the parking area and rested the big book on her lap. She didn’t feel the cold wind, her wet boot, or anything else. Danielle touched one of the photos, horses running along a beach, ocean spray angling up in a V shape on either side. To Ralph it seemed she was no doubt imagining wonderful things.
“Bye, Danielle.” Ralph waited for a reaction, but there was none. Shelley managed a half-hearted wave, again with no reaction. All they saw was the top of Danielle’s head. Slowly, Ralph and his sister turned back to the school and started walking.
“That is one strange puppy,” commented Shelley.
“I guess she just likes horses.”
Mission accomplished, they both disappeared into the crowded playground, going their separate ways.
Halfway across the playground, near the swings, William watched them give the little girl the prize book. He was not very happy. That book should have been his. This was so unfair, he thought. She was some little freak, both in what she was and what she could do. William didn’t like things that were unfair, or freaks for that matter. What had once seemed a fabulous thing, the Everything Wall, now appeared to make William’s life less enjoyable.
Their task finished, the temporary merging of grades and classes came to an abrupt end. Shelley returned to where Vanessa and Julia were hanging out. Ralph made his way to William. He had offered to let him join the brother and sister in presenting Danielle with her prize, but for his own reasons, William had been disinclined. But now there was time to do something fun with his friend during what was left of the recess. William waited as Ralph approached.
“Well, was she weird?”
Ralph had to admit she was. “Yeah, a little.”
Trying to shake thoughts of the girl and that stupid Horse of hers from his mind, William started to walk towards the school, urging Ralph to follow. “Come on, Gary and Mitchell have built some kind of snow fort. Let’s go check it out.” And, as had been the case for as long as they could remember, Ralph followed wherever William led.
SHORTLY AFTER, THINGS returned to normal. Another cold snap came, banishing the rain, replacing it with bitingly low temperatures that left a hard crust on top of the fields of snow and, more dangerously, icy roads. Shelley had resumed referring to Ralph’s best friend as It, yet continued to play cards with him in these days of inclement weather. The world was indeed a contradictory place, and the Thomas house in Otter Lake was sometimes at its apex.
During his time off the road, his down time, his domestic time, Tye was busy shovelling new snow and fixing the storm windows the season had found wanting. In addition to his household chores, he had a brother and two sisters he had to catch up with. His next foray onto the Canadian highways wasn’t for another week and a half, so he planned to get as much done as was humanly possible. This was his usual routine — sitting in the cab of his truck for ten hours a day, followed by ten hours in various hotels and motels for weeks at a time. Repeat as necessary. Then back to the reserve and doing all the things that make a house a home in as short a period of time as possible.
As for Liz, she had her own set of priorities. The purchase of the book of horses had been, she thought, an inspired idea for Danielle Gaadaw. The prize reflected the girl’s art and, she hoped, her interests. But it was a new week and, amongst her other chores, the maintenance of the Everything Wall loomed large. It had to be washed and cleaned for the next infusion of imaginary creations that would flood into their house — starting that very day, Tuesday. Liz would wash all the children’s work, except for the Horse, as had been agreed, even through William’s gritted teeth. The animal would be left proudly occupying its niche in the Thomas kitchen, where it had spent the last two days watching the Thomas family prepare and eat their breakfast and dinner. Frequently there would be some arguing, laughing, and the occasional song would suddenly erupt, filling the room. Generally, it observed existence pass through this example of government housing.
Tye had stopped to admire it once, making a comment about how it seemed like its eyes were watching him. Tye acknowledged that he had no artistic appreciation for anything that ventured beyond his comfort zone, which included the music of a steel guitar and television commercials that made him laugh. Even though he would deny it if asked, he had to acknowledge to himself that there was something about the Horse, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
On Tuesday night, with the wind howling outside, the denizens of the Everything Wall became extinct, rendered so by an energetic Liz, a rag, and a pail of soapy water, which proved as effectively genocidal as any large comet — with one notable exception.
THE NEW WEEK brought several juvenile etchings, which had already popped up here and there across the Everything Wall. It was the usual menagerie of expected depictions, none approaching the artistic quality of the Horse and its effect upon its viewers. It was obvious some form of intimidation had made its way into the drawing ability of other young residents of Otter Lake. In this second week, most drawings were small, half-hearted, simplistic, almost as if no one wanted to put the necessary effort into anything that might be compared to the Horse. As the saying goes, it’s hard to shine when you’re standing next to the sun. Only in its sophomore week, the Everything Wall was becoming anemic.
“Danielle did that?!” was the common refrain from most of Shelley’s and Ralph’s friends when they saw the drawing that was still on the Everything Wall. “Geez, that’s pretty good” was a popular response. “Wish I could do that” was equally frequently heard. Very few echoed William’s assessment of “Weird.”
Wednesday afternoon quickly became a reality. Temperatures outside were a serious deterrent to most outdoor activities, regardless of how many layers were worn. Life moved indoors. It was in the midst of yet another card game that consisted of seventy-five percent card playing and twenty-five percent arguing that Shelley somehow, above the din of William’s alternating protestations of anger and innocence, heard a familiar gentle tapping at the front door.
“Did you hear that?”
“Nope. Hear what? Wait a minute, I think I’m missing a card.” William began looking under the table.
Ralph was thinking the same thing as his sister. “Do you think?”
“I don’t know. Last time, we barely heard her when she knocked.”
“Big deal,” was William’s second contribution to the developing conversation. He was doubly irritated. If Danielle was at the door, waiting to be invited in, it meant potentially another amazing animal would prevent him from winning the drawing contest. In fact, so far this week he had not contributed anything to the Everything Wall. He was waiting to see what the weird little girl would do. He would wait until then to see what kind of master stroke he would need to pull out of his hat to combat this unexpected and slight foe. Now she was here to do draw again.
Bring it on, he thought.
He was about to win this card game — the card he was searching for was not exactly lost, just relocated — and Shelley and Ralph had obviously lost interest in the game. Their focus was on the girl at the door and not the cards in their hands.
Hurrying across the kitchen, Shelley opened the door, revealing on the other side a very chilled Danielle, looking smaller and colder, if possible, than last time. “There you are. I was wondering if you were going to show up again.” Shelley could feel the cold coming in through the mud room, refusing to release its tendrils from the little girl’s arms. Ralph showed up on Shelley’s right, leaving William leaning against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, trying to act nonchalant. Danielle gave the older girl a small, shy smile.
“Can I …?” Her voice trailed off. Danielle seemed too shy to even finish her sentence.
“Yes,” said Shelley, standing aside and holding the door for Danielle to walk through. She closed it when Danielle was fully in the house, standing in the warm kitchen. “So, you want a pop or anything? I think we have a Coke somewhere, if It didn’t drink it already.” She gave William a menacing glare as she opened the refrigerator door, but he didn’t see it. Or possibly he didn’t care. He was too busy watching Danielle, who gently nodded her head in response to Shelley’s offer.
“Can I take your jacket?” asked Ralph, giving her his best welcoming smile. Danielle nodded and started to take off her winter jacket. Taking it, Ralph noticed it was too small and surprisingly thin, with two small rips in the lining. The Thomas clan was by no means wealthy, but Ralph could not imagine his mother letting him or Shelley out in the Otter Lake winter wearing an inadequate coat like the one he was holding in his hands.
The frail young girl they had all met only a handful of times at school, eating potato chips and poorly dressed, seemed excited, almost animated to be in the house with them, a distinct change. As she progressed deeper into the kitchen, the creator of the Horse suddenly stopped moving, her feet fixed. Blinking rapidly, she was staring at her artwork on the Wall, the one she’d created less than a week before.
Ralph noticed her change of expression immediately. “Danielle, what’s wrong?”
Shelley, hearing Ralph, suspended her search for a soft drink in the refrigerator door and looked around, curious.
Danielle was standing in the centre of the kitchen, still shivering from her sojourn in the Canadian winter, displaying a peculiar look of puzzlement and a dash of frustration. William leaned further into the kitchen to try to see what was drawing Ralph and Shelley’s attention.
“Danielle?” voiced a worried Shelley.
“It’s still here,” she said.
They all looked at the Horse on the Wall, not comprehending what the problem was. “Oh, yes,” said the older girl. “We all loved it so much, it’s so beautiful, we didn’t want to wash it away. Our mom totally agreed. We left it up so we could look at it some more.” She looked nervously at her brother, “We thought you would be … I don’t know … flattered.”
It did not appear that Danielle was flattered. In fact, she was close to tears.
“But … but you said … you said you would get rid of it every week, so other kids could make new drawings. It’s not supposed to be here. This isn’t right.”
This caused serious confusion amongst the three. Shelley, always the better communicator, tried to pilot their ship through Danielle’s sea of confusion. “I’m sorry, but we thought —”
“It’s supposed to be gone,” Danielle said a second time. As if desperate, she turned to Ralph. “Isn’t it? Why isn’t it?”
This was the most all three of them had heard the little girl talk, collectively, in quite probably their entire lives. Even William was struggling to grasp what the girl was telling them. “But that’s your Horse. I don’t get it. Don’t you like it anymore?”
Then, like a bucket of water thrown on to a campfire, Danielle reverted to the fragile thing they remembered from school. She looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. It’s just …” She swallowed, then grabbed her coat from the confused Ralph. Quickly donning her coat and zipping it up, she announced, barely above a whisper, “I have to go.” Not looking at anyone, she scurried to the door, faster than any of them had seen her move, and was out into the cold before any of them could react. One by one, their gazes returned to the Horse on the Wall. Each of them replayed the last five minutes in their minds.
“Man, if I thought she was weird before, I think she’s even more weird now, if that’s possible,” offered William. Then, without another thought, he returned to a far more pressing matter. “Are we gonna finish this card game or what?”
Shelley was about to tell It to shut up, but lost interest as she continued to study the Horse. Just short of thirteen years of age, she knew there was more to this Horse than a thin layer of coloured chalk on a black wall. No one could put that kind of love and devotion — if she were older, perhaps she would have added the word soul — into the drawing she was looking at and then react so severely for some as-yet-unknown reason and not have it mean something above and beyond a mere child’s drawing.
Ralph knew, and, though he wouldn’t admit it, William also knew there was a special significance to what was on the Wall three feet away. They both felt this somewhere deep inside, but they just didn’t want to know. On some level, William was aware that the more he understood this girl and her Horse, the more difficult it would be to be jealous of her.
Ralph turned to his sister. “Now what?”
ON HER WAY home through Otter Lake’s snow-covered and chilly streets, Danielle tried with little success not to cry. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. In the cold of the winter, the tears that managed to escape stung her cheeks, practically freezing instantly. She shivered in the growing darkness but was completely unaware of it. She thought only of the Horse and the lost opportunity. Danielle knew the Horse wanted to come out so badly, and she wanted to let it out equally badly. There was something about that house, that home, that made Danielle feel she could draw the Horse there over and over. It felt safe, where the Horse could grow and be healthy and free. Those were good things. Not like the place her mother told her was home. She couldn’t let the Horse visit or live there. She’d tried several times, but had got into deep trouble for her efforts. The last time really badly. No Horse could come and visit her. It couldn’t thrive there. She knew there had to be other places where it could develop and run free. The Thomas house seemed to be just such a place.
Now she worried that she had been quite rude to Shelley and Ralph, that she had been a rude guest in their home. She was sure of it. Her father, when he’d been alive, had tried to teach her about politeness and the dangers of being rude. Upon reflection, she shouldn’t have acted the way she had. It was wrong. Danielle was sorry now. She wished she could tell all of them she was sorry. Everybody there had been so nice to her. Her father would not have approved of the way she’d acted or how she’d left her new friends’ house. Could she call Shelley and Ralph and William new friends? She’d have to try to be nicer from now on. If there was to be a now on.
It was so seldom she’d think about her father. Occasionally she dreamed of him, but that was becoming less and less frequent. Mom never mentioned him, especially with her new boyfriend. In some ways, it was like the man whose lap she’d found so warm and comforting, making her fall asleep, had never existed. Danielle no longer missed him with the deep, painful aching that she’d had since he’d died four years ago. It was now just a dull ache. She guessed that was good.
Turning left at the stop sign, she stuck her hands as far down into her pockets as they could go, dangerously straining the stitching inside. Momentarily her finger popped out one of the rips Ralph had noticed earlier. Danielle was used to the cold, but today she seemed lacking in her ability to ignore or fight it.
The house where Ralph and Shelley lived seemed a perfect place for her friend to visit, and today had been the day she was going to draw it again and let it run free. But the old Horse was still there. That was last week’s Horse. That wasn’t right because her Horse changed. It grew, evolved. Just like people. It needed to stretch and become what it wanted to become, not what it was, and that couldn’t happen when the old Horse was there. It had to go. Shelley and Ralph were such nice people, they meant well, and Danielle knew she shouldn’t have acted so badly, but she was disappointed. Why had they lied to her? She couldn’t understand why they’d said they would make room every week for a new Horse and then hadn’t done that. It wasn’t fair. Nothing much was fair in her life, but for some reason this felt more unfair than anything else.
The tired and worn wooden steps of her trailer creaked beneath her tiny feet as she climbed the stairs to the front door. She and her mother and her mother’s boyfriend lived here. Danielle could remember when the trailer had been a much happier place and she would run home excited. Now she looked for excuses to stay away. But today she was out of excuses, and it was getting really cold, making her teeth chatter. Add to that she was hungry, tired, and had no place else to go. She turned the knob and entered as the warped door scraped open.
“There you are. It’s about fucking time. Carla phoned and said she saw you wandering the streets. Get in here, you’re making us look bad. I suppose you’re hungry too. I made some Kraft dinner for lunch. You can have what’s left, on the stove.”
The door and the world closed behind her. No Horse would want to live here.