The Mare

Paul

“So I heard your young lady rode out at Spindletop,” said Becca. “She made a good impression.”

We were on the phone talking about Edie’s spring break visit when she dropped that in.

“Joanne said they’d maybe have room for her as a work-study — apparently that place she’s been training isn’t the best quality.”

“What in the fresh hell?” I said. “You’ve been aggressively icing Ginger for years and now you’re interested in her…her—”

“I’m not interested in messing with your wife’s project, although I was under the impression it was your project too. Spindletop wasn’t my idea. It was Joan who suggested it, and because she knew I was going to be talking to you today, she asked me to mention some event they’re going to in the early spring, a big show that a lot of people from all over the country come to. It’s called EQUAL for some reason — anyway, her daughter was thinking Velvet could come along, act as a groom, get a look at a different part of the horse world. She asked me to mention it. That’s all I’m doing, mentioning it. I’m not trying to sell it.”

We spoke about other things, and almost got off the phone. Then I felt bad for my attitude, so I apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “And partly I was okay mentioning it because when I met the girl, she seemed nice. Not just nice, interesting. Which is what Edie’s always said, but Edie can be…romantic about people.”

“Edie’s very perceptive.”

“I know, and I trust her in general. It’s just that Joanne’s heard gossip about Velvet that wasn’t so nice.”

“She did?”

“Well, she knows horse people, so yeah. Apparently some friend of a friend had talked about being afraid of Velvet, said she glared at people and—”

“Afraid of Velvet?”

“Well, there was some story about her getting kicked out of a barn because she caused a trainer to get trampled, even something about her being in a gang.”

“That sounds like teenage BS!” But then I recalled that Velvet had somehow abruptly stopped going to that barn.

“Well, I thought so, yeah. Edie’s said nothing but good things about her, and like I said, Joanne had a good impression of her, and the trainer at Spindletop was struck with her talent. So…”

I thanked her for telling me about Joan’s offer, quietly guessing that one, the conversation had been a chance to feel me out about the gossip and two, she’d really enjoyed the idea of Ginger’s cluelessly taking up with a menace.

“And you know what? If it’s awkward, I can just have Joan call Ginger.”

“No, Becca, it’s okay. I’ll tell her it came from you.”

“And just so that you know that I know that you know — I’m not the only ice queen at the party. That woman has a thousand-yard stare that could stop a truck. She does not make it easy.”

I wished I could say I didn’t know what she meant. But I did. Which I did not share with Ginger when I brought it up that night.

“Becca,” she said. “Becca? Becca, who insulted me to my face about Velvet, now wants to get involved? Get involved with sending Velvet to a place that’s better than the place I’ve found for her and now to some ridiculous—”

“Ginger, you didn’t find the place, it was just next door. It’s not a reflection on you.”

“You don’t understand how I feel? That she’s trying to—”

“I do! My first impulse was to question her. But I think she essentially means well.”

“I don’t.”

“Ginger, give her a break! I know she’s been unpleasant. But I was technically still married to her when I met you. You’re younger, you’re better-looking, and you’re living in the same town. And it’s only been six years.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t think she means well.” We carried our dinner into the living room to eat while we watched a TV show about a likable gangster.

“Whatever she means, it’s an opportunity for Velvet. If Velvet wants it.”

She didn’t say anything.

“And if it really bothers you, we don’t have to bring it up.”

We stared at the TV; the gangster was in the middle of an argument with his daughter in the family car. Ginger stared at it as if absorbed and then out of the blue said, “I have a question for you. Are you having an affair?” She turned from the TV to look directly at me.

“No,” I said. It was the truth.

She turned back toward the television. The gangster had left his daughter sitting in the car so he could follow somebody into a gas station bathroom and kill him. She looked at me again and said, “So fucking predictable.”

I felt my face go hot. “What do you mean?”

“Becca. The main thing she has over me is that she’s a mother and now that I have something a tiny bit like what she has, she wants to come in and show me up. What a fucking bitch.”

“So you don’t want Velvet to have this opportunity.”

She looked at me angrily. “Of course I want her to have it! If she even wants it. I just wish you were more—” She stopped, and her expression changed. Then she said, “You’re blushing.”