He turned the handle and opened the door.
“I could have been totally naked,” I said.
“But you aren’t.”
“But I could have been....”
“C’mon,” he said. “The golf cart’s waiting.”
And it was. Just sitting there, puttering away as golf carts do. So we got in and sped over the gravel road. And Skip started up right where he left off.
“Stoneshire has had just about every breed of horse you could imagine at one time or another. We’ve had Paso Finos, Quarter horses, Arabians. Warmbloods. Every kind of horse. And we’ve bred ’em all!”
Now that I was next to him, Skip seemed younger than he did earlier, maybe closer to my age than I first thought. And he wasn’t terrible looking actually. I hadn’t noticed his masculine jaw at first. It was strong and coated in a light amount of stubble. I could imagine him nursing a calf back to health with a baby bottle before going inside to have wholly unselfconscious sex with a beautiful woman. And the sex would definitely make a baby. A stupid, angelic baby.
“This right here is the Thoroughbred training track. This is where we get our young horses in shape and teach ’em to race. Our youngbloods are broken to ride in September, and they can gallop a mile by December. You can bet on it!”
The problem with Skip, I decided, was that he said things. Also, he probably believed that the world was a beautiful place. But I could forgive him that if he would just stop speaking. If you could just watch him smile and frown as he drove various vehicles around, he might be okay.
“They got this machine in there called a vibration plate.Wiggles around like crazy to get the circulation going in a horse’s legs. It’s hard to get them to stand on...”
I don’t care, I thought.I don’t care about this at all.
Skip hit the breaks, and the cart bucked to a stop. I jolted forward in my seat.
“Well, jeez,” he said, “if you want me to stop bending your ear, you could be a little nicer about it.”
I covered my mouth with my palm.
“Shit,” I said. “Did I say that out loud?”
Skip gave me a puzzled look.
“Yes,” he said. “You definitely did.”
It was hard to tell if he was hurt. He seemed more confused.
“Well, the cat’s out of the bag, I guess,” I said. “I don’t really care about horse training or breeding or... any of this. I think it’s sad and weird and sad. And if it didn’t exist I would be fine. I might even be happier.”
I was sweating all of a sudden, and breathing heavily, a couple of sure signs that I was about to welcome a passing spell of dread. The golf cart was idling in a field of old oaks. The horizon beyond was so endless it was a little frightening. I stepped off the cart and plopped down in the grass. I closed my eyes and took long deep breaths.
“Are you all right?” asked Skip.
“Just give me a minute,” I said. “I just have to wait out the terror.”
A cool breeze kicked up and blew my hair against my cheeks.
“The what?”
“Terror.” I said, “You know, the terror that humans feel. You don’t have any weed do you?”
There was a long pause. I kept my eyes closed and my breath started to normalize a little. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and held it with a worn tie from my pocket.
“You don’t feel good?” said Skip.
“Uh-huh,” I murmured.
I heard the golf cart lurch forward behind me.
