Chapter Thirteen #3
such a sweet little life. Building a porch out the back, looking out at the trees.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“You wanna keep going into the forest, or turn back?”
“Snow doesn’t seem to want to move.”
“You just have to kick her, she’ll get going.”
I kicked her.
“OK, that was way too light.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Snow can tell when she’s with a beginner. They try to get away with whatever they can.”
“OK, I’ll try to kick again.”
Nothing.
Dave laughed.
“She’s got you pegged.”
Eventually the kicking worked, and we rode through the forest path. I didn’t even realize we were going in a loop. The smell
was earthy, like cedar and pine and dirt. I had to lift one of my hands up periodically so I wouldn’t get sliced up by sharp
branches. Even though it was a sunny day, for some stretches, it was dim; we were so shaded by the trees, packed together.
I was mesmerized by the setting and by watching Dave’s strong back, the way he grinned when he turned back to check on me.
When there was a break in the foliage, we came out onto a wheat field. I could see the barn in the distance. He turned around and positioned his horse right beside mine. If this were a movie, I would write a scene where he’d reach for my hand.
“You look like you’re about to say something very serious,” I said, looking into his eyes.
He smiled, took a big breath and said, “I think you should try galloping.”
“Nuh-uh. No way. That sounds like . . . expert-level horsing. I am kindergarten level.”
“I know you’d like it. I’m going to have to insist. There won’t be enough to write about if you don’t feel the wind rushing
by you like that. It really is very close to flying.”
“It might not surprise you to note that flying is the worst for me.”
He laughed. “Do you remember when you were scared to jump off the cliff into the lake, and you watched everyone do it all
summer, and then finally, finally, you did it. And then afterwards, you felt high and kept talking about it being the greatest
rush of your entire life and you did it like, six times in a row?”
“I think I’d repressed the chickenshit part of the story and remembered only my flawless leaping into the abyss,” I said.
“It’s like that. You can do it. And there’s nowhere for Snow to escape to. She wants to go back to the barn at this point.
She’s a homebody horse.”
My hands, which had been still and calm, started to shake a bit around the leather of the reigns. My heart sped up. The barn
wasn’t that far away, maybe half a kilometre at most. I could do it. I closed my eyes and remembered how I’d felt in my bright
red one-piece bathing suit, arcing over the rock and sinking deep into the lake water. When I came up for air, Dave was treading
water, wanting to make sure I could safely swim to the shore in the awkward doggy paddle I’d only learned six weeks earlier.
“OK,” I whispered, “but let’s say she gallops and then I want her to stop. What do I do?”
“You say whoa, and you pull both reigns back fast and hard. Just like when you wanted her to stop while walking. First we’ll canter, like
we did a bit before.”
He was grinning at me. Oh how much I missed that grin. Be careful, an inner voice said. Keep it together.
“Oh yes, the bumpy walk!”
“You get that going, then you lean forward in the saddle and kick, and she’ll know what to do. I’ll be close behind the whole
time if anything happens. Just go toward the barn, she knows how to avoid the rocks and stuff, she’s done this a million times.
One. Two. Three. Go!”
After a few awkward starts, Snow and I got going. Terrified at first, with the urge to close my eyes and let go, I forced
myself to be there instead, be present. I was flying at what felt like an impossibly fast speed, sort of like when you fly
down a hill on a bike, only at the same time, you’re fulfilling a seven-year-old-girl fantasy of being on a unicorn flying
through space. I am a warrior, I actually thought in that seven-year-old part of my heart. I realized I was grinning so hard my face started to hurt and
I was shouting a bunch of vowels.
“You’re doing great!” I heard Dave’s voice say from behind me, bellowing through the valley and coming back in an echo. The
greens of the ground and blues on the horizon blurred by. When we got close to the corral, Snow slowed down naturally, and
I said, “Whoa, whoa” like he’d told me to, and she slowed even more like it was nothing, just an ordinary day of a horse.
Walking felt so slow in comparison, it was hard to remember why I’d been afraid of going fast. Dave got off his horse and
led her to the corral, where he tied her off, and then he helped me down. My limbs were shaking. I felt like my eyes no longer
had lids. I was grinning like a child’s Halloween pumpkin. I gripped his hand after I was on the ground.
“That. Was. Amazing.” I was breathing hard, and he was so close to me.
“You were a natural,” he said, in a low, almost whisper. Because I didn’t let go of his hand, he grabbed the other one and
we stood there, still catching our breath, fingers entwined. We were standing as close as we had been slow dancing on the
last night of camp. He leaned down so naturally, his lips edging closer to mine, and it felt as though every star in the sky
came alight in my chest. I closed my eyes halfway as he leaned closer, hesitating briefly, before he yelped and dropped both
my hands, leaping toward the reigns we’d both forgotten about as Snow, sensing it was her one shot at freedom, darted away
from us. He could move fast, and Snow was tired enough she just let herself be caught.
“Ha ha, she never gets very far,” he said, blushing. I snapped back to real life and opened the gate so he could lead her
inside. He showed me how to remove the saddle and brush Snow’s coat. Both of us acting like we hadn’t almost kissed.
“Maybe we should have a campfire tonight,” I said as I walked behind him toward the break between the cabins. I was about
to repeat myself when I saw that Ben was sitting on the picnic table outside my cabin.
“Hey, guys,” he said, getting up and pulling me into a hug. I could feel Dave stiffen beside me. Ben held the hug a bit too
long to seem strictly platonic.
“Hey, Ben,” I said, “you’re back early.”
“Hey, dude,” Dave mumbled.
“We wrapped on Ian by three today.”
I felt Dave slowly walking away from us. I turned, “Hey, thanks for today, Dave.”
“Yeah, of course.” He gave Ben a weird look.
What was happening between them? I did what I normally do with awkward silence.
“I just rode a horse for the first time! It was amazing! I might still be shaking,” I said, putting my hand out to showcase the potential shaking.
“Found someone to show you the county magic, eh? Snow is a great horse to start out on,” he said, looking at Dave.
“Snow was great,” Dave responded. He crossed his arms. Their words were normal, tone polite, but it sounded like at any moment,
it could erupt into a fight.
“Thanks for dealing with the water heater and stuff this week,” Ben said.
“Of course, that’s the gig,” Dave said, and then gave both of us a little nod and wandered back to his cabin. We watched him
go, not really speaking, as though waiting to share secrets.
“So, a real tragedy that your phone stopped working this week, eh?”
Ben laughed. “Sorry, I’m not great at the texting thing.”
“It’s fine. Totally fine. Fake boyfriends don’t need to for-real text, right? I just wasn’t sure about camp, but your sister
dropped by and got me up to speed.”
“Great, great. Well, I’m so excited to have this summer with you. Camp is going to rule. I actually came by to see if you
might want to have dinner with me,” he said, stepping so close I took a step back. I could see Dave looking through his front
window and felt embarrassed. I was not going to fall for Ben’s charm, real or fake, again.
“I actually think I’m going to keep writing tonight.”
Ben looked at me like he couldn’t quite believe I’d turned down an offer from him. A very leading-actor quality, to be surprised
like this.
“I’ve got a bunch of family stuff this weekend,” he said. “Tonight was kind of my only free night.”
“Well, we have all summer to hang out, right?” I said in what was meant to be a breezy way but maybe came out wrong.
“Right. You’re not mad about the text thing right? That’s not why you don’t want to hang?”
“Not at all,” I said, though inwardly I knew I had to have a think about my motives. I didn’t mean to be passive-aggressive. And the truth was I was hoping Dave might have a campfire with me, that we might talk things out. I wasn’t going to share that, though.
“You know, Dave’s not my favourite guy. It’s pretty mutual. I hope he wasn’t shit-talking me.”
“Not at all,” I said, truthfully. “We actually go way back.”
“You two. Go way back. Are you serious? That is very shocking to me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He’s kind of like, a good old county boy, you know what I mean?”
“Not really. You’re not trying to say he’s some sort of MAGA dude?”
“No, not like that. I don’t know. I just don’t see Dave and think, Oh he’s friends with screenwriters from the city.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a snob. I swear. Literally everything I say is coming out wrong. Man, you make me nervous. You’re gorgeous. You’re
so smart. I get tongue-tied.”
I blushed. But I also wasn’t totally believing him.
“Well, thanks, Ben. It’s cool.” I heard Dave’s door open and suddenly felt like wrapping things up. I don’t know why. It’s
not like I was dating either of them. I felt guilty, but I had nothing to truly be guilty about. Perhaps it was just the confusion
of feeling attracted to two people in such a small stretch of time.
“Looking forward to camp starting on Monday,” I said, as though we were ending a business meeting.
“For sure, me too,” he said, giving me a very flirtatious smile that I hoped had nothing to do with the fact that Dave was walking by us with Baby, and a bag, toward the truck.
Was I imagining the vibes? Was I being crazy and narcissistic to think either of them had any feelings for me?
The air was tense between them, and I bet it had absolutely nothing to do with me.
Ben gave me another hug, quicker this time, and got in his car, which he’d parked right up on the lawn beside the picnic table.
He peeled out as Dave made another trip back to the cabin.
“You leaving for the night, Dave?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound neutral. I wanted to add again, since we both knew he was gone last night too.
“Yeah, I’m going on a field trip with my kid tomorrow. Thought I’d drive up tonight,” he said.
“Yup, OK,” I said. “Thanks for the magical afternoon.”
I grinned at him but he didn’t return the smile. Just nodded. “See you Monday. If anything goes wrong with the cabins, just
call Neve or Ben.”
“Got it,” I said. For some reason, the sparkle of the afternoon had faded, and all I felt was disappointment that we weren’t
going to have a campfire. I’d imagined a whole night ahead and then he was gone.
I took myself to Stella’s that night, a restaurant in Waupoos. I sat on the patio overlooking farmers’ fields. I ordered oysters
on the half shell, a salad made with local greens, and a roasted sweet potato that had the most delicious sauce and kimchi
on top. I ordered a fancy cocktail and sketched out beats for my movie. I hadn’t gone out to eat by myself before and it felt
oddly liberating. I eavesdropped on a first date that was awkward as hell, taking note of their body language and slips of
dialogue. I collected moments like this whenever I was in public, like ingredients for future movies. When I walked to my
car, the cicadas were loudly singing their telltale art school songs. The night was mine.