It hadn’t.
My heart slammed against my chest wildly, and I tapped a finger against the stone countertop to dispel the strange itch under my skin. Without giving myself any more room to think or to talk myself out of the plan, I flipped the switch on and let myself fall into the liminal space between the vibrations as the razor passed through hair.
The first chunk of beard fell into the sink, and then the next, and the next. Each one was an extra weight I hadn’t known I’d been carrying until it was gone, and I could feel my lungs expanding more with every breath after. It didn’t take long before another man stood in the mirror looking back at me, one I barely recognized.
His eyes were bright and full of so much wonder for the transformation that had just occurred. The corner of his lips were hidden by the proper mustache he sported, but I could tell they were tiltedupward in an uncharacteristically soft smile. He radiated an energy I couldn’t quite place at first, but when I did, my hand trembled as I set the razor on the counter.
Life.
So much life radiated from the man before me that it made emotion rapidly scurry up my throat. I raised a hand to my mouth, hoping to block the choked noise they’d make when they’d escape, only to watch the man in the mirror do the same. His eyes were dewy and sparkled in the bathroom light, and it hit me none too gently.
This was me.
A me that I couldn’t recognize because I’d forgotten what life looked like in me. I’d spent so long in the shadowy abyss of Raleigh’s loss, a husk shuffling through the motions of pretending to be human, that the visual of living again was a foreign thing.
I tilted my head, examining my face with a whole new set of eyes before the telltale grip around my heart began to clench. But these didn’t feel like Nighttime’s fingers. This wasn’t the sadistic pinpricks of her nails digging in to make my chest cavity fill with blood. It was a weight that was far more familiar.
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I let them fall. Because for the first time in a long time, they weren’t because of Nighttime and they weren’t for Raleigh.
They were for me.
For the version of me I’d forgotten existed. For all the time I’d spent withered and cracked and damaged. I wasn’t whole again by any means, and I wasn’t suddenly healed from the loss of Raleigh. But for the first time, I could finally acknowledge how far his death had dragged me, and the part I’d played in where I landed. I’d been thrown headfirst into the depths of despair, a hole in the ground that had been dark and dank. But there’d been a light at the top.
I could have pulled myself out. I could have dug my hands into the earth and clawed my way back out. But I’d wanted to rot. The Earth had been where Raleigh was, and I’d wanted to be as close to him as possible. And the longer I’d been down there, the further thelight seemed to get. Every day, the light shifted farther and farther until it felt pointless to try and climb. Vines and moss had started to consume me, and the Earth moved to reclaim me before my time.
Then Jackson showed up. His face had appeared at the top of the hole, and he’d smiled down on me in my decrepit, mangled state. It’d been blinding and filled up all the dark valleys where I was, and suddenly, I realized the hole wasn’t that deep at all. There were roots now, and I could use them to pull myself out if I could break free of the vegetation that tethered me.
Maybe I’d just broken through. Maybe I was already scaling the wall. I wasn’t out yet, that was for sure, but something had happened.
I waited for Nighttime to slither her way into me. To push me back into the depths of this pit or to tie me back down. She couldn’t be far because she loved my misery. But I waited and waited. I waited so long my tears dried up, and I was able to suck in what felt like the first breath of creation into my lungs, but still she didn’t show. I knew better than to believe she wasn’t coming back, but her absence now felt monumental.
The clattering buzz of my phone vibrating against the countertop pulled my attention, and the movement of reaching out for it felt so loose and free that I was already grinning before I saw who the message was from.
Jackson:
Have something I want to show you. Where can we meet?
Me:
Got something to show you too. Come by the cabin.
He sent me back a thumbs-up emoji and little bubbles of excitement went off throughout my body. Jackson was coming here. Would he like the stache? Glancing back up into the mirror again, it definitely gave me Robert Redford vibes, but we’d see what he thought when he arrived.
He’d requested leave today but hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. We were still waiting on one mare to foal, but there wasn’t a need for all-hands-on-deck if she did drop tonight, so it’d been granted.
All the maiden mares did fantastic and the farm was now brimming with tiny horses of all shades kicking around after their mothers. I used to love this time of the year, even if it came with its own set of challenges. Halter training a foal was always challenging, but it was one of the more joyful parts of the experience. All that new life, getting to experience the world around them for the first time, and all the glimpses at their personalities.
After Raleigh, working with the foals became just another part of the job I had to make my way through. I hadn’t had the energy or the patience to work with them as well as I should have, and oftentimes I left the real crucial parts of desensitization to one of the hands.
A smile threatened to tug at the corner of my mouth at the thought that this year could be different. Maybe I’d still be passing it off to someone else, or maybe I’d be right there watching a certain blond-haired hand with a single dimple in his grin muddle his way through it.
While I waited for Jackson, I cleaned up the bathroom and then padded out into the kitchen. I was just rummaging around in the fridge to see what I could offer in terms of refreshments when a knock came from the back door.
“It’s open,” I called before popping my head out from behind the fridge door.
They immediately locked with a familiar pair of green-brown eyes. Jackson looked fucking sinful as he stepped into my home with his dark wash jeans, tight tee, and his Stetson perched on top his head. Shutting the fridge with my hip, I leaned against it while little sparks of excitement went off under my skin as I took him in.
“God-fucking-damn, Tucker Legare,” he breathed, depositing his hat on the kitchen table. A look of abject hunger was in his eyes as he drank me in, and I couldn’t help puffing up a little at his perusal.
