Chapter Ten
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM
or
Ponyboys on Parade
PUCK STARED AT the lake, his knuckles white where they grasped the edge of the dock, as I waited for him to say more.
“He’s in the hospital with a fractured spine. He may never walk again,” Puck said, swirling his calves in the water. “Name’s Elijah.”
A chill ran through me, and it wasn’t just the wetness drying on my skin. I almost said “I’m sorry” again, but I kept my mouth shut. There was nothing I could say as an outsider that wouldn’t sound clichéd or ring hollow.
As a photographer, I was used to quietly observing things, listening to conversations and judging when to give input.
Often, I decided it was wiser to wait and watch and simply record what was happening.
I found the photographs I’d taken when I’d kept myself removed from what was going on evinced truth and immediacy. It was a useful skill.
Puck turned and I met his gaze, trying to show with my expression that even though I couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through I cared and wanted to take some of the weight off him.
Even if simply as a sounding board—a way for him to say these things out loud, instead of keeping them hidden inside him.
“I’m just so—so fucking angry. Because I told him this kid was dangerous and was going to get him killed. And he didn’t fucking listen to me!”
Puck’s breath hitched, and he made a noise like a sob that he strangled as soon as it tried to escape.
“I know that’s the wrong thing to be thinking.
I should be sympathetic and helpful, when all I want to do is kill this stupid kid that did this to him, but I can’t because the kid is already dead from his own fucking stupidity.
And Elijah is never going to be the same.
And neither am I.” He turned to me, his gaze filled with anger and despair.
“And it’s just not fucking fair, Oliver. ”
I reached out because it was the only thing that seemed remotely appropriate. I wrapped an arm around him and pulled him against me.
He stiffened for a moment, and I thought I’d made a mistake.
But then he melted against me, nuzzled into my neck and shuddered, gasping deep breaths and shaking with some violent emotion.
It didn’t matter if it was rage or hopelessness or grief.
Whatever it was, he’d pushed it down for so long it was killing him from the inside.
“I don’t—” he gasped. “I’m sorry—” he said, before a sob wracked him and he struggled to get away. “Fuck!”
I relaxed my hold and watched him pull from my embrace. His legs thrashed, splashing in the water. He seemed startled to be allowed to break free. His hand flew to his face, fingers swiping at his eyes as his shoulders heaved.
“No, Oliver,” he moaned as he reached out and grabbed me, lurching into my willing arms.
A surge of emotion overcame me, and I pulled him into my embrace again, held him firmly around his bare waist, and whispered nonsense into his ear. “It’s okay, Puck. I know. You’re okay.” His skin was covered in goose pimples and still slippery with lake water.
I half expected him to pull away again, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let him this time. He felt so good in my arms, and it pleased me to hold him while he fell apart.
Strange, forlorn sounds broke from his throat as he let his pain out.
I had no idea what it would be like to see my best friend so damaged and bereft.
Especially if I wasn’t able to talk about it with anyone.
Until I found myself at a kinky pony play ranch, confessing to my latest conquest, who would let me cover him in my tears and snot while sitting naked on clammy wet wood if it would only make me feel better.
I held Puck tight while he shuddered and keened, keeping him close, until after what seemed a very long time, he quieted, sagging against me like an empty sack.
We listened to the lapping of water against the dock and the calls of birds from the lakeshore.
“You okay?” I asked after a while. I genuinely needed to know if he was still conscious or if he’d fallen asleep against my shoulder. His breathing was long and even, and he hadn’t made a sound for a while.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“No, come on. Something tells me you’ve needed to do that for quite some time.”
He took a deep breath, then let it out. “Maybe. Probably.”
I let him sit up. He seemed shy and embarrassed, avoiding my gaze and swiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“I probably got you wet.”
“I was already wet.”
He nodded, gazing over the water.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Sure.”
“Your brother in Munich. He knows where you are?”
Puck swung his head to give me a skeptical look. “What? No.”
“But you didn’t just not show up. He knows you’re safe?”
“Oh. Shit, yes. Of course.” Puck laughed softly and it was a relief to hear. “Except he thinks I’m at some kind of yoga retreat.”
“When I told my buddy I was leaving for a few weeks, that’s what he thought too.”
Puck’s eyes went wide. “Did you tell him where you were really going?”
“I did. He was jealous.”
Puck chuckled. “Yeah, well. I signed up for this gig and then forgot all about it. The BCR just happened to email me with an available spot shortly after the accident, when I’d already promised my brother I’d visit him.
My family could tell things were getting to me.
But then, this place and this experience, seemed like the best way to forget everything. At least for a little while.”
“Is it working?”
“Kind of?” He laughed bitterly. “No. Not really.”
I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“When I’m in the paddock or the arena with Kamal,” he said, shaking his head. “I love every minute of it.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem like you—”
“But I feel guilty every minute that I’m loving it.”
“Ah.”
“Because I get to play sexy ponyboy for my superhot trainer slash Dom, who, by the way, is much more attractive than I’d anticipated. And Elijah gets to lie in his hospital bed,” he cleared his throat, voice thick with emotion. “Gets to lie there and contemplate never being able to walk again.”
It all made sense now. This explained why Puck fought Kamal so relentlessly in the paddock. How must it feel to trot around at the whim of his sexy and dominant master, trying to be the most graceful, gorgeous ponyboy, when his best friend might never have use of his legs again?
“Aw, Puck,” I said, taking his chin in my hand and kissing him with all the tenderness I could give him, then pulling back. “You’ve been through a lot.”
He shook his head. “Nothing I’ve had to go through compares to what Elijah’s going through right now. And I’m not there to, like, help him or talk to him because I can’t fucking bear it.”
“It’s okay to take a break and get away for a bit.”
“Elijah can’t take a break. I mean, his family’s there, and they’re wonderful. I can’t even think about how hard this is for them.”
“You aren’t Elijah. Thank God you aren’t Elijah. Thank whatever you want—the universe, fate—but instead of feeling guilty for enjoying your life, feel grateful, maybe?”
“Easy to say.”
“Yeah. You could talk to Adam.”
Puck stared at me. “You think I need therapy?”
“Puck,” I said. “Anyone who’s gone through what you did could use some counselling. It’s not a four-letter word.”
“Have you ever?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
His eyes widened.
“I had issues with anxiety when I was about fourteen, fifteen. Like, major issues. My parents tried to address it, but they signed me up for some counselling, and it helped so much. And, yeah, I was resistant at first. But the anxiety got so bad it was interfering with school and social activities. Therapy made a world of difference.”
“Hmm. I don’t know if I—” He stared into the distance. A loon called across the shimmering water. “I came here to escape all of that.”
“Sure, but you said it wasn’t really working?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look, I’m not telling you to talk to Adam. Just that the option is there. I’m really glad you talked to me. Did it help?”
“I think so. Yeah.” He laughed and bumped my knee with his. “Even though I’m so embarrassed I don’t know if I can ever see you again.”
A lead brick fell into my stomach until I noticed the sparkle in his eye and his soft smile. “Joking. I’m joking.”
I put a shaky hand to my forehead. “Don’t do that. I thought you meant it.”
“Is it that important to you?”
“What? This?” I gestured between the two of us.
“Yeah.”
“Puck. Yes. I love what’s happening here. I don’t want it to stop.”
He nodded, blushing. “Good. Me either.”
The sun was close to setting, so we swam back to shore, got dressed, and headed back to the bunkhouse. We were quiet as we walked through the darkening woods. I felt a real intimacy between us as our footfalls landed in the grass and dirt, and the chirping of crickets and frogs surrounded us.
As we neared the bunkhouse, human voices from inside the panelled walls joined the cacophony of small animals. I took my leave, kissing Puck on his lightly stubbled cheek and squeezing his fingers, before I strode back to the main house in the glistening moonlight.
*
I DIDN’T SEE Puck again until the pony show the following day.
I’d planned to photograph the men being tacked up, but I’d had a software issue with the Nikon camera that took me all morning to sort out. It delayed me so that I barely had time to get to the paddock and set up my tripod and camera by the fence.
It was strange to see the bleachers filled with people of all types; some in fine clothes similar to those worn to an actual equestrian event, others in fetish gear, still more in jeans and T-shirts.
They spoke and laughed amongst themselves as they waited for the show to begin, the air filled with excited anticipation.