29. Mr. Jensson
Mr. Jensson
BETTY
Ipolished hooves in the barn aisle when I spotted a pair of sneakers.
“Bets?”
I looked up, eyes locking on Mary’s confused face.
“Mar!” I said, trying to deal with my current task. “I’d hug you, but… my hands are full of hoof polish.”
I stood to see her father standing from his wheelchair to say hello.
“Give me just a second to finish this hoof and I will properly greet you all.”
“Are you painting that horse’s nails?” Mary asked.
“Yes. Sorta. I don’t even know why. We don’t need it for cross-country, but I like seeing her put together. She’s so fabulous. I love a grey.”
I stood back up as Jaz came around the corner.
“Can you hold this?” I asked.
She held out her hands. I snapped off my rubber gloves and turned back to Mary and her dad.
“Hi. Sorry. It’s all hurry-up-and-wait here.” I gave Mary a big hug, not sure what I could do.
She never mentioned her father’s views on her sexuality. I didn’t know if she told him we were dating.
“You smell like horses,” Mary said.
“I don’t notice it, but it’s probably every day.”
“Betty, this is my far, Erik Jensson. Dad, this is Betty.”
He held his hand and spoke Swedish, “So nice to meet you.”
“And you,” I said.
“Pappa understands a lot of English, but doesn’t respond in it as much. If anything confuses you, I’ll translate,” Mary explained.
“I think I can keep up,” I agreed, switching to English. “Uh, Mr. Jensson, this is Jaz, another rider. She’s helping me out. Jaz, this is Mary’s dad.”
“Nice to meet you, sir. I speak English and Spanish,” she clarified. “No… whatever we’re speaking here.”
“Swedish,” Mary said. “Betty is always invoking it to manipulate me.”
“No comment,” I said.
“I will tack her up,” Jaz offered. “Go up to the show office.”
“Yep,” I said. “I hope you didn’t mind but I rented your dad a power chair.”
“What?” Mary gasped. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did,” I insisted. “I wanted him to be able to enjoy the course rather than just hang out in the barn.”
The minute she told me about her dad having trouble navigating a field, I thought about how I could make it easier.
Golf carts were common, but I remembered power chairs from my Florida events.
I called the office and, sure enough, there was a vendor willing to drop off a chair.
If Betty was bringing her dad, I wanted him to feel included.
Mary turned to her father.
He smiled. “Takk, skatt. You are kind. I will go fast!”
“No, not too fast,” Mary groaned.
“You can’t use it in the barn,” I said. “It might spook the horses. On the course, it’s approved. I can get it and park it in the accessibility area out by the barn if that works?”
He nodded. “Thank you, Betty.”
“I’ll go with you,” Mary offered.
“Go, I will see the horse,” Erik offered.
“Watch the horse,” Mary corrected.
He waved us off. To my surprise, she took my hand. I squeezed hers.
“You’re really here,” I said. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
She looked at our hands as we walked. “I wanted to see you. I’m worried about the logistics, but I feel pretty free here. I’m guessing horse people don’t mind the gays?”
“Eventers? Nah. They are chill. And California is gay as fuck. But really, it means a lot.”
“So do you,” Mary assured.
For a moment, my heart fluttered. I’d been nervous about our worlds colliding or her having something come up last minute and me being gutted that I missed her. Instead, we held hands on a sunny day about to collect a chair for her dad.
Mary added, “Besides, Dad wasn’t missing the horses. He was committed to seeing what a horse girl does.”
“That’s fucking adorable.”
“So are you,” Mary stopped me, pulling me into a quick kiss.
I narrowly missed the brim of her baseball cap.
I giggled. “I had to negotiate the hat.”
“Thank God you’re not super tall.”
“That is one thing I’ve never been.”
“I feel stupid in the hat. This was Dad’s idea to help me be incognito.”
“It’s cute,” I said. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
We continued towards the entrance.
Mary said, “You didn’t have to rent a chair. He would have been fine hanging out in the stands eating a bit of lunch. I worry this was a whole ordeal.”
“Nonsense. He’s a sports person, right?”
She nodded.
“He will want to be in the action. It’s the first time I’m meeting your dad. I wanted to make a good impression.”
She grinned as we reached the office door. A woman handed us a key, knowing exactly who I was and that the invoice was paid with my show fees the morning before. We collected the chair and put the keys in.
“I get to drive this thing back, right?” I joked.
“Whatever you want.”
“For certain. You’ve made Pappa’s day, so you’ve earned it. I honestly didn’t think to ask.”
“Well, one of my patronages is actually a disability and accessibility charity in Oslo,” I said. “I might have learned a thing or two.”
“I hate that you are earning all these points right now.”
“I’m not. I only hope it translates to you officially inviting me to watch your set.”
“You can,” she agreed. “I promise. But… I don’t know how to make you fit in without… you know… making you feel like just a friend.”
“I literally do not care. Not this once. It’s more important for me to see you play than anything else,” I said. “I want to see you kill it at Miragelite. Also, if we do not hook Jaz up, we’re going to disappoint her.”
Mary giggled. “How could I hurt that poor woman? You lay on the guilt well.”
“Blame my paternal grandmother. She was really a queen of guilt.”
“And a literal queen.”
“I suppose, yes. But she was just my grandmother,” I laughed. “That’s the weird part of being me.”
“I signed multiple rounds of autographs yesterday. I get it,” Mary said.
“Look at you, superstar!”
“Oh, stop. It’s so weird.”
I smiled. “I’m proud of you, baby. Really. I love this for you. Let me be proud of you.”