The Mare

Ginger

Right before she came, I saw Becca with Edie at the store. That never happened before, not both of them together. It was pretty awkward; usually when we saw each other, we’d nod only if she couldn’t avoid it. If Edie hadn’t been there this time I don’t even think it would’ve been that polite. But she was there, in the checkout line, meaning Becca was trapped, her body automatically doing its big and important thing while her head looked away, like it was for some reason dawning on her what a gross bitch she’d been all her life. Part of me wanted to make nice; part of me wanted to insult her for real. Since I could do neither, I was prepared to stroll on by, but Edie popped out and said, “Hi! Is Velvet here?”

Was she furious at her mom? Or did she just not know what had happened? “Yeah,” I said. “She’s riding in a competition at Grace Meadow tomorrow.” I saw Becca’s head come up slightly at the mention of the place.

“Awesome! I was so sorry I missed the other one, this time I’ll come; when is it?”

“Tomorrow, starting noon. It would mean so much for her to see you.”

“Awww!”

The skinny old cashier (gentle faded eyes, big moles) looked up mid-bag, smiling at the affectionate sound. Becca loaded the belt.

“I even think her mom is coming.”

Edie did the awww again. Finally her mother turned to look at me, her expression unreadable. Her daughter said, “You should come too, Mom. It’ll be fun.”