The Mare

Ginger

Pat went to walk the horse around. I stood alone as the other riders led their horses — and their parents and trainers — back toward the barn and the parking lot beyond it. I saw Paul coming toward me, and I went to meet him. He said he’d gotten into a conversation with another trainer, that she was going on about how she’d never seen a horse pick up its performance so radically before, that the animal rode like it “was possessed” on that final course. He asked where Velvet and her family were, he said that Becca and Edie wanted to take a picture of us all together, with Velvet and her family too. I felt numb. In the years I had been married, there was no “family photo” with me in it.

“Paul,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll want to.”

“Why not?” His face darkened. “She didn’t give permission, did she?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

He didn’t say anything; he just put his hand on my shoulder.

And that’s when they came back. Mrs. Vargas with her arm around Velvet, and Dante looking quiet and emotional even at a distance. Silvia’s eyes fell on me and in them I saw peace with a triumph that sharpened as she came closer. All right, I thought; it’s all right. And it was. She embraced me and said something that Velvet did not have to translate: “Gracias.”

Then we went to have our picture taken with Becca and Edie — the first time I had ever been in a picture with them. Silvia initially said no, that she was too tired and looked terrible. But she was finally part of it too, and she smiled big. It was incredible.