Grabbing Mane, page 22
Either she was in control of this situation, or James was. There was no in-between.
As soon as they made it between the trees, a lizard set off into the palmettos, making a racket far larger than any tiny reptile should be able to, and James blew out his breath with a huff, looking hard into the woods for the source of the sound.
“Hahahaha!” Casey chortled. “James, you’re so silly. Hahaha!” She pressed her legs gently to his side and he jogged forward, tossing his head when she reined him back. “We’re walking, we’re walking, we’re walking,” she sang, sounding like an absolute idiot.
“We’re walking, we’re walking!” Gwen warbled.
“We’re walking, we’re walking, we’re walking!” the two of them chorused, their horses’ ears flicking back to listen to them, their attention utterly captivated by the crazies on their backs.
All the way down the driveway, they sang ridiculous nonsense songs, laughing like gulls when James hopped over a puddle and stopped to gaze distrustfully at the leaning mailbox. Casey managed to be brave enough to walk him a little ways down the gleaming white road, keeping well to the center and away from the dark, glittering water in those deep drainage ditches.
By the time the horses had turned back up the barn lane, she was utterly relaxed. She could feel her weight sinking into her seat and legs as if she were a weighted float, her hips bobbing below the waterline. When James moved quickly, scooting past a suspicious squirrel, she just swayed with him and laughed.
When he’d settled back into a smooth gait, Casey reached forward and rubbed the hot neck of her horse with one gloved hand. They’d ridden down the road! They’d gone out of the arena! Anything was possible now!
She felt unstoppable. She felt like a goddess. She felt like a horsewoman.
Brandon was packing when she came home that afternoon, sweaty and half-dizzy from too much sun and not enough water. He shook his head at her when she came shambling up the stairs.
“You shouldn’t have ridden in the middle of the day, Casey. You’re going to get heat stroke.”
A loud boom punctuated his words, and the light which had been streaming in the bedroom windows suddenly winked out.
Casey pulled off her sweaty shirt. “That’s why I did it, dear.”
The storm lasted the better part of the afternoon, as August storms were liable to do, and Casey settled down at Brandon’s desk in the guest room, trying to get through some of her marketing work for Sky. He came in and out of the room quietly, looking for files and books he’d need to take to West Palm with him. He was planning a lightweight move, as if he was just going out of town on a business trip. Casey was deeply grateful for this. It made the whole thing less real. If Brandon had been packing up all of his clothes and the bits of furniture which had been his before they’d moved in together, she wasn’t sure either of them would be handling this change with any grace at all.
As it was, they were kind to each other, even though Brandon couldn’t quite believe the future she’d convinced him to accept.
“Casey,” he asked at one point, “will you need the printer?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, turning away from her laptop. He was surveying the printer without pleasure. “Are you going to set it up in your hotel room?”
“Not in the hotel, but in the sublet, when that opens up. I just wouldn’t like to be without it if I should need it… but if you think you might…”
“No,” she replied, “I never print anything,” and then she thought of the empty space on the shelf which would be left behind, and of the printer sitting on a bland kitchen counter in some bland corporate rental, and suddenly she felt tears prickling at her eyes. She sniffed and turned back to her work, determined to be the tough one. She was, after all, the one who was staying behind and the one insisting he go. If she wasn’t the tough one, who was?
“I cried over a printer,” Casey confessed later, on the phone with her mother. She had gone down to the kitchen to escape Brandon’s suitcases, slowly filling with his favorite button-down shirts, and in the watery evening light had a sudden urge to call her mother for advice. “Is that normal?”
“Perfectly,” Casey’s mother insisted. “Blank spaces are going to be the weirdest part of all of this for you.”
“Am I doing the right thing?” She whispered this, half-afraid of the answer.
“In terms of Brandon? Yes. Sometimes we have to push people into doing things.” Her mother’s tone was knowing; Casey suspected her mother had pushed her own father out onto plenty of limbs during their marriage, and maybe beforehand. “In terms of the horse thing? I don’t know about that one.”
“I wasn’t asking about that one,” Casey said, struggling to keep irritation out of her voice.
“Luckily, I’m your mother, so I don’t have to wait to be asked,” she replied comfortably. “But since we’re on the topic, Casey, I know why you have to do it. Horses have always been your thing. I couldn’t expect you to react any other way to this kind of offer. And I think you’ll find your answer pretty quickly.”
“Meaning I’ll either love it or hate it?”
“Exactly.” Her mother chuckled. “I think by October, you’ll know exactly what you want to do next.”
Casey looked at the rain streaming down the kitchen window, the smeared green and brown of her little backyard and the high wooden fence surrounding it. It seemed like an amazing feat, to know exactly what she wanted to do next. It seemed impossible.
If such a thing could happen, though, that would make all of this heartache and upheaval worthwhile.
For both of them.
“OH MAN, IT’S so weird being here without Brandon.” Casey slipped into a chair across from Heather and Alison. The other two women were already sipping mimosas and giggling over something on Alison’s phone, but they were nice enough to look up and be attentive once Casey had arrived.
“You said he’s coming later, right?” Heather waved down a passing waiter, pointing toward Casey and tipping her hand back in the classic “girl needs drink” gesture.
“Yeah, when he’s done with packing. He had to pick up some last-minute stuff since he’s leaving tomorrow and it was kind of stressing him out. I told him I’d bring him home some lunch if he can’t make it here.”
Alison raised an eyebrow. “So, you ready for him to be gone already?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re sending him to West Palm alone?” Alison turned from Casey’s shocked face to the waiter, who was just arriving with a tray of fresh drinks and a hopeful expression. “We need the breakfast potatoes. ASAP. For the table, please and thank you.”
“Anything else?” He glanced around the table. The breeze off the water ruffled the pages of his notepad.
Casey held up her hands helplessly. “I just got here. And we’re going to be here a little while. Maybe just the potatoes to start?”
The waiter scowled at her and stomped away.
“I don’t know why that’s such a weird request,” Alison complained, watching him storm back to the kitchen. “It’s like the brunch version of a big plate of fries.”
“It’s exactly like that,” Heather agreed. “We should make that a thing. Start calling them brunch fries.”
“So, Casey,” Alison said, flipping the subject back around with ease. “Brandon’s hitting the road in the morning. When should we be prepared for you to leave us, too, or is this the last you’ll see of Brandon?”
Casey tipped back her mimosa in three big gulps, ready for that bubbly feeling to start spreading from her tongue to her toes. She needed it today. “Guys, I am not going to talk about this.”
“The hell you aren’t,” Heather insisted, pushing her dark hair back from her face. “Here’s something we need to discuss.: you’re going to move to West Palm. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not in two weeks, but eventually.”
“I don’t think it’s totally decided. I don’t have a job down there, for one thing. It’s too expensive a place to move without a paycheck.”
“So, what, we’re supposed to believe you’re just going to let Brandon walk?” Heather shook her head. “You two are good together.”
Alison looked knowing. “Maybe they’re not that great.”
“He’s not walking,” Casey said stoutly, ignoring Alison, whom she knew had a “hangry” issue. Once the potatoes arrived, she’d be nicer. “He’s just going down ahead…” She stopped, caught. The other women knew it.
“Ahead of you, go on, you can say it.” Alison drained her glass. “You’re just dragging this out, Case. Go down there and stay with him instead of working at that barn for a month, and you can use your unpaid leave for something useful, like finding a good job that pays you a ton of money. You can get a place at a way better agency down there. Waiting won’t help you.”
“I already made a commitment to work at the barn,” Casey pointed out. “You want me to break that?”
Alison rolled her eyes. “It’s that horse,” she pronounced. “You’re going to give up Brandon over that horse. We should have known this was going to get out of control.”
Heather nodded hesitantly. “I hate to say it, but Alison might be on to something here. I know you love James, but are you really going to pick a horse over Brandon?”
“That’s not what is happening here!”
Alison tipped back her chair with the air of a wise bettor. “Yup, saw this one coming a mile away. Casey, that horse is behind this decision, and it’s going to cost you.”
Casey was so angry, she thought the top of her head must be lifting off. She felt dizzy. She shook her head to try and clear her brain. “You encouraged me to buy him! Both of you! So don’t act like that, alright? It’s not fair. Did either of you consider how I am actually feeling right now? I thought we were friends!”
The women looked moodily at their empty glasses.
“I’m sorry,” Heather said eventually. “That was unkind of me.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Alison’s pale cheeks flushed red. “I just… Casey, listen to me for a sec. I knew you in high school. Four years. And until senior year, it was like you didn’t exist. You went to classes, you disappeared. The only thing you thought about was your horse. I guess I’m just afraid that’s happening again.”
“And if it is, should I give him up?” Casey asked, her voice sharp. “I should just stop riding because, I don’t know, I like it too much?”
Alison blushed even an even rosier red, although previously Casey would have laid money on that being an impossible feat. “You’re right. When you put it like that, you’re right. I’m really sorry.”
Casey sighed and shrugged. “Thank you,” she said. She noticed a passing waiter and lifted her glass, waving it in the air. He held up a finger, nodding. “Let’s talk about something else,” she suggested. “Anything else.”
Just then, a runner deposited the breakfast potatoes in the center of their table: a gargantuan platter of sausage-flecked fried potatoes sprinkled liberally with spices and flecks of green parsley. It was very hard to think of being angry with a plate of goodness like that between them. Casey felt her mood lift immediately. She looked around at her friends and felt a stirring of sympathy. They were just worried about her. They cared what happened to her, and she might resent their opinions, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate their concerns.
“I really don’t think Brandon and I are going to split up, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Casey told them. And she didn’t. That was the one thing she had. If she really thought they were on the outs, she’d probably have a proper breakdown. But Casey saw them making it through this, and so her spirits ultimately remained high even when she felt depressed about the move. “It’s nice of you guys to worry about me, though.”
“So we can talk about this, then?” Alison quipped, and popped a bite of potato in her mouth.
Casey grinned and nodded. “Yes. I can listen to you.”
Heather cracked her knuckles. “Okay, where to begin? Let’s be clear: I’m not actually worried about Brandon doing the leaving. I’m worried about you. Because I’m pretty sure you’re hellbent on crashing your entire life right now, and if the whole problem isn’t the horse but is actually your job, I think we should fix that before you go off the rails completely.”
“That’s kind of mean,” Alison scolded, who was transforming back into her kind self now that she’d had a bite to eat.
“Eat your potatoes.” Heather tugged the platter closer to Alison’s plate. “Yum yum eat-em-up.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” Alison said, rolling her eyes at Heather, but she picked up her fork and started digging in anyway.
“Listen up, Casey.” Heather leaned forward, her eyes piercing. “At my job, we don’t beat around the bush.”
“Too bad we don’t know what your job is,” Casey said lightly, wishing things would ease up. Whatever happened to fun brunch?
“Not important. At my job, we see a problem, we call it out. That’s not industry-specific, it’s a culture, and it’s a good one. So, I’m calling you out. What do you want to do?”
“Maybe what she really wants is actually what you do,” Alison cut in. “You should tell her what that is, so she can decide.”
“Maybe it is.” Heather popped a potato in her mouth, as if to illustrate just how casual she could be about her secret job. “You never know.”
Casey shook her head at both of them. “So you want to know what I want to do? At this moment? Right now, I really just want to ride my horse for like, a solid month.” Casey stuck her fork into the potatoes, ignoring the serving spoon and dishes set out for more genteel company. “Maybe spending this month working with Sky will help me figure it out. Maybe I won’t even stay in marketing. Maybe I’ll end up wanting to work with horses full-time.”
She could have bitten off her tongue as soon as she’d said it. She’d made this mistake before, musing about being a professional equestrian in front of civilians. They did not like this sort of thing. Made them very nervous.
“Oh, Casey, that’s not a good idea.” Alison’s voice was now deeply sympathetic, as if she was just now realizing how serious Casey’s crisis was. “That’s not what you want, I promise you.”
Heather was less gentle. “Are you crazy? Give up your marketing career to ride horses? Casey, this is a classic quarter-life crisis. Do not do anything rash. Whatever you do, do not quit your job for that horse. This too shall pass. Or we’ll find you a job you like. But cleaning up after horses is not it.”
The mimosas arrived, a tray of glasses clearly meant to serve more than one table. “Hey, my mom has horses,” the runner said cheerfully as she set new glasses out for each of them. “You have horses?”
“I have a horse,” Casey admitted, much as she might have admitted to a pack-a-day habit. Her friends shook their heads and looked slightly scornful.
The runner brightened. “That’s cool. My mom has five. Ages five to thirty-five. The oldest one, she’s had him since she was like, in high school. She said she could never give him up.”
“That’s really nice,” Casey said weakly.
The runner recognized that she’d said something wrong and quickly departed, leaving behind the entire tray of glasses as a peace offering. The women went in for fresh drinks with one fluid, simultaneous motion.
“Maybe you just need some adult time,” Alison said a few sips later. “You’ve been hanging out with those kids.”
“I like those kids. They’re so single-minded. They know exactly what they want. You know what sucks? They look at me and see their worst fears. I’m the girl who gave up horses for school and a good job. The thing their parents all keep telling them to do. And they think it’s a fate worse than death. Literally. Every one of those girls will tell you they’d rather die in a riding accident, doing what they love, rather than live to be ninety but work in an office.” Casey shook her head. “Think about that.”
Alison rolled her eyes. “That’s so stupid. Imagine wanting to die riding a horse. Why would you listen to them? They’re teenagers.”
“What do they know about anything?” Heather agreed, stabbing at a chunk of sausage. “When I was a teenager I wanted to be a secret agent.”
There was a pause as Alison and Casey regarded Heather.
“Fair,” Heather said finally. “But I don’t carry a gun or race around the Alps on Her Majesty’s secret service or whatever. Which was teenager-Heather’s goal. I don’t do anything like that.”
“Not yet,” Alison snorted.
“Would you even tell us if you did?” Casey asked pointedly.
“Whatever. Listen, the point is, you can’t be judging yourself at thirty-something against what you wanted when you were fifteen. That’s just crazy. You didn’t even have a fully developed brain yet.”
Casey didn’t have a response to that. But, she thought, moodily poking around the potatoes with a fork, she had never felt such clarity of mind as she had when she was fifteen. She’d known exactly what she’d wanted from life. It was a few years later, when—presumably—her brain was fully developed, that the confusion had started to set in. What sort of sense did that make?
“Brandon!” Alison’s voice after four mimosas was a shrill chirp, piercing enough to make Casey nearly jump out out of her seat. “You made it!”
“Was there any doubt?” Brandon slid into the chair next to her; Casey offered her lips and received a cool kiss. “Just had to write a few thousand lines of code and then brave Target for some kitchen supplies, all in a morning’s work. Now I’m ready for girl’s brunch. What are we talking about? I hope it’s The Bachelor.”
“You caught us in a lull,” Casey said. “We’re not talking about anything. You get to choose the next conversation!”
“That’s a lot of pressure,” Brandon sighed. “I’m not sure I’m up to the task. Alison, you want to take over?”
Alison ran her finger along the lip of her champagne flute. Her eyes fluttered up to meet Casey’s, and for a moment Casey’s breath held tight in the back of her throat. Then, she smiled: slowly, reassuringly. I’ve got this, her smile said.
