3. Colt
O Children - Nick Cave The Bad Seeds
“Psst.”
Blinking, I turn on my booted heel and attempt to locate the source of the sound.
I know who it has to be, but I can’t find her—she’s hiding better than usual.
The soft nickers in the stables, the scents of hay and horse and leather soothe the jagged edges of my grief. Normally, they make me feel calmer, but today, everything’s different.
Tears burn my eyes like acid except I don’t let them fall. I can’t.
When my granddad passed away, my father taught me that tears are never permitted.
That’s when things got worse.
Now that my uncle’s dead, only God knows how Pops will escalate.
It’s going to be hell.
I burrow the heels of my hands into my eyes. The urge to scream overtakes me, but I know that’ll scare the horses. I don’t want to do that. I want to?—
“Pssssssssst!”
Jerking at the sound, I whip my head to the side.
That’s when I see the bony knees sticking out of the wad of hay in Loki’s stall.
The fact that Susanne McAllister can sit so close to where my horse craps is a testament to how badly she needs a hiding place.
I found her in the stables last year. After her dad’s funeral.
Our families might hate one another thanks to too many accusations of cattle rustling over the centuries, but how could I kick her out? She’d said her grand-mère had shouted at her so she’d run to the only place she knew Juliette McAllister wouldn’t come looking—the Seven Cs.
Ever since, she visits. Always on Tuesdays and Fridays after dinner.
Ever since, I tend to check on Loki on Tuesday and Friday evenings.
Though I’ll admit, I walked in here blindly today.
Stepping inside the stall, I press my forehead to Loki’s and scratch my fingers under his chin.
I know what love is. I love my mum. I love my brothers. I loved Uncle Clay, but the love I feel for Loki surpasses all that.
I guess it’s weird. Loving a horse this much. But I do. I can’t help it. I know Cole, my brother, is the same with his Betsy.
Loki is like my brother, my child, my father, and my best friend all rolled into one.
He”s in my soul.
There”s no me without him.
Loki neighs, the warm gust of air brushing my chest as he rubs his head against mine like he knows the burning in my eyes has turned painful from holding back my tears.
That’s when a grubby little hand tugs on my elbow.
Tipping my head, I see Susanne standing there, her bottom lip popped out. Not in a pout. But in shared grief.
She knows what I’m feeling.
“I’m so sorry, Colt,” she warbles, her bony arms clinging to my hips.
With Loki in front and Susanne to the right, there’s no denying I feel safe.
Safe enough to grieve.
Safe enough to let go.
I cry.
For Clay who died too young. For me who lost an uncle who loved a misunderstood nephew. For a future without him in it. For a childhood filled with bitter pain from a drunken father who hates his heir.
Throughout it all, Susanne hugs me and Loki”s hooves tap the floor, prancing agitatedly on my behalf.
Nothing will ever be right again, but at least I have this.