7. Chapter Six London
Chapter Six: London
W hy did I agree to babysit Brooklyn’s daughters?
It’s not like Hattie and Queenie are spoiled brats or anything. They’re now peacefully snoring in the backseat after begging me to play Disney songs for them, having insisted they weren’t tired. But, I’ve never taken care of kids for this long before. What if I mess up? What if they get hurt?
Brooklyn is at the Canyon Ranch spa with his wife, getting couple’s massages, while I’m here, at an actual ranch in Malibu, supervising Queenie and Hattie.
Yep. My brother carried on the family tradition and named his kids after boroughs of New York—Queens and Manhattan. I wonder what Queenie and Hattie will name their kids after. Streets? Brownstones? Central Park?
I park Brooklyn’s SUV and get out. I took his car since it has their car seats.
The last thing I want is for his kids to get injured on my watch.
Unbuckling Queenie and Hattie, I grab their little pink and purple unicorn-patterned backpacks.
They’re seven and nine, not young enough to do something stupid and get trampled by a horse… I hope .
“Hi there, are you guys the Youngs?” asks a flannel-clad guy who approaches us with a clipboard. “I’m Eli, a trail guide and instructor here at Malibu Ranch.”
“Yep. I’m London and these are my nieces, Queenie and Hattie.” I grab both of their backpacks in one of my hands and Hattie’s hand with the other. Queenie speeds ahead of us.
“Hi!” Queenie says, the younger but bolder of the two. Her two long braids bounce against her back as she looks up at Eli. “I’m Queenie and that’s my sister, Hattie.”
Hattie smiles shyly but doesn’t say anything, clinging to my hand for dear life. I hope she opens up around more once we get on the horses.
“I’m going to need you to fill out some paperwork at the front desk, and then I can get you guys on some horses. Are you excited?” Eli says as he leads us past the dusty front gate and into the only building on the ranch.
Queenie gives an affirmative yes, and Hattie echoes her.
When I let go of Hattie’s hand to fill out the paperwork and sign several forms, releasing Malibu Ranch from any responsibility for my possible injury or death, I ponder the real reason I became secretly interested in taking my nieces horseback riding.
Maybe it’s because Gloria’s boyfriend list is still stuck in my mind.
If I learned how to ride a horse, would she see me as more than a friend?
Of course equestrian ability doesn’t even belong on her list, and it’s probably only there because Raina put it there.
“C’mon, Uncle London!” Queenie tugs at the sleeve of my plaid shirt.
I take a deep breath to steel myself after handing in the consent forms to Eli. I agreed to be here, so I might as well make the most of it.
When Queenie, Hattie, and I get out of the building, we follow Eli to the stables. Several horses stand there, calmly chewing their hay or apples or whatever horses eat .
Well, calm horses are better than spooked horses. From all the Westerns I’ve seen, spooked horses always bolt or toss people from their backs.
“These are our horses,” Eli says. “The blue roan on the left is Honey , then there’s Thunder, and Ember.”
Hattie claps at the word horse , the first sign of excitement I’ve seen from her all day.
“I’m going to give you guys some treats to feed the horses so they can get used to you, okay?
Please don’t rush up to them or stick your hands in their mouths.
Just open your hand, keep your palm flat and your fingers together, and let them come to you,” Eli instructs as he pulls out some sugar cubes from a bag in his pocket and drops one in each of the girl’s palms.
They climb onto stools to get high enough to feed them, and I watch the horses eat out of their hands. Queenie and Hattie are clearly delighted.
I snap a couple of pictures for Brooklyn, unsure of what else to do besides make sure my nieces don’t get bitten by a horse.
“Hey, London, you want to feed them too? You won’t lose any fingers. Promise,” Eli says.
Why not? “Sure.”
I mimic my nieces and extend a sugar cube toward Ember, who has a caramel colored coat and light brown mane.
Huh. As a city boy, I didn’t expect to enjoy being on the ranch like this, since the closest I got to the outdoors was walking our family’s dog.
But this is kind of nice. Even if I’m smelling hay and horse.
“We’re going to take it nice and easy. Queenie, we’re going to start with you first, okay?” Eli says, crouching down to look my niece in the eye.
He leads Honey out of the stall and she follows along easily, her tail flicking from side to side as she walks.
I’m struck by their sheer size, even if Honey and Ember are shorter than Thunder.
Still, Honey seems gentle enough, and once out of her stall, she stands there patiently as Eli puts a saddle on her and secures it.
He does the same with the other horse, Ember, and then grabs two helmets for Queenie and Hattie. They put them on reluctantly, pouting that they’re grey instead of the bedazzled pink I’m sure they were hoping for.
Eli gives them a boost up onto their respective horses.
“Whoa!” Hattie says, gripping the horn of the saddle. “I feel so tall!”
She looks down with a giggle. At least she isn’t scared of heights.
Queenie and Hattie both start riding around the enclosure—the paddock?—while Eli leads their horses around using the reins.
They go from hanging onto their saddles for dear life to relaxing, smiling, and telling me to take pictures of them.
“Look, Uncle London, no hands!” Queenie raises both her hands off the horn of the saddle like she’s on a bike instead of a giant lumbering animal. Thankfully, Honey doesn’t even notice.
“Please don’t do that,” I say quickly, just as Eli echoes my warning. “You could fall and I don’t want to have to take you to the hospital for a broken bone today.”
She pouts. “Fine.”
Watching my brother’s kids learn new things and have fun with animals reminds me of how vast the difference is between my life and my brother’s.
Sure, Brooklyn is the oldest, so of course he would get married and start a family first. He moved out at eighteen and married his college sweetheart at twenty-one.
So he wasn’t there for the darkest moments of our parents’ marriage, when their fights escalated from screaming to using me as their go-between.
Or when Dad would leave the house for days at a time, never telling me or Mom where he was going.
The first few times, I tried to follow him, but I gave up after the third try.
What was the point in chasing a man who didn’t want to be caught?
I’ve never told Brooklyn any of it, wanting to spare him and his newly formed family from the heartbreak.
After maybe an hour of the girls riding around and getting comfortable on their horses, they get thirsty and hungry.
Fortunately, Brooklyn packed their bags with cartons of chocolate milk and baggies of beef jerky, and they dismount for snack time.
After snacking, they ask if they can braid the horses’ manes and tails.
Eli asks me if I also want to have a go on a horse, promising me Thunder, the most patient and least temperamental mount he has.
I agree, even if I feel slightly condescended to by his promise of the slowest and oldest horse.
I’m wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, does that not count for something?
Or should I have also stopped to buy a cowboy hat and boots?
“Go, Uncle London!” The girls clap and cheer for me and giggle as I fail to swing my leg over the first time trying to get into the saddle.
“Easy does it,” Eli says as I find my footing the second time.
Hattie was right: I do feel tall up here. Not that I typically feel short, at six feet tall, but still. Being this far from the ground is a slightly dizzying experience.
“You’ve never been on a horse before, have you?” asks Eli as he takes the reins.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask before realizing I’m clenching my teeth, and every other part of my body.
My feet feel strange in the stirrups as they bounce against the horse’s sides.
I try to convince myself that this is fun, like I’m on a giant motorcycle with Perry.
A motorcycle that has teeth and a brain of its own.
Eli chuckles. “Try to relax a bit. I’ve got you, and you’re going super slowly. You have a helmet on. If you fall, the worst thing you’ll hurt is your ego. ”
“Oh, you don’t know my nieces. They’ll laugh at me until the end of eternity.” They still make fun of the time Perry fell off his motorcycle when he was learning to ride the darn thing. Still, they’re my nieces, and they’re adorable, and I love them.
He grins. I ease up my grip a little and the thought of Gloria’s boyfriend list flashes through my mind again. Am I really doing this to impress a woman?
A woman who’s probably looking for other men to date right now?
I grit my teeth again and try to stay upright in the saddle.
“Relax,” Eli says.
“Please don’t tell me horses can smell fear.”
“No, but I can, and it smells like sweat,” Eli jokes. “So for the sake of my poor nose, ease up on your grip.”
I try to relax, and find myself falling into an easy rhythm as the horse walks around the paddock, kicking up small dust clouds with each step. This is kind of enjoyable, despite the complaints of previously unused muscles in my legs and hips.
After a while, he lets go of the reins and helps the girls get back on Honey and Ember.
We ride in circles around the ranch, chatting and laughing and petting the horses.
After we’re done their riding lesson for this week, Queenie convinces me to let her braid my hair to match my horse’s mane and tail.
Before I can stop her, Hattie grabs my phone and takes pictures.
On the drive home, my nieces don’t stop talking about how much fun they had and how they can’t wait to come back next week. They fall into contented naps after more and more yawns separate their sentences.
I chuckle. I’m glad the chocolate milk has worn off, otherwise they’d still be on sugar highs right now. When I pull up into Brooklyn’s driveway, the girls must have some sixth sense that automatically alerts them to being home, because they wake up immediately .
Texting Brooklyn, I wait for him to come outside. Instead, his wife, Rebecca, opens the door. “London! Thank you so much for bringing the girls to their horseback riding lessons.”
The two of them unbuckle their seatbelts and run out of the car to fling themselves around their mom. Hattie shouts, “Mommy! We rode horses today!”
She laughs, bending down to hug her daughters. “Why don’t you come in and sit for a bit, London? You can show us pictures.”
“I’d love to.”
Which is how I get roped into an hour-long conversation that involves children excitedly bouncing up and down on their indoor living room trampoline—I bet that was a Christmas gift from Perry—while they tell me about their favourite pony cartoon.
Instead of feeling exhausted, like I expected, the day was invigorating. I’ve never babysat for extended periods of time before, but I loved being around Queenie and Hattie. They’re fun, precocious, and drag me out of my introverted bubble.
It almost makes me want to have children of my own. After I’ve been plied with tea and cookies, the sun sinks past the mountains. I refuse Rebecca and Brooklyn’s offer to stay for dinner, since it’s their anniversary, and drive home to my apartment instead.
To an apartment that feels cold, empty, and quiet after the day I’ve had.