Courtney Lewis and her husband Donald lay in
their queen-size bed under their horse-themed comforter, with their heads
resting on their pillows. They stared at the open window, which was beginning
to let in rays of yellow sunlight. Courtney turned to face her husband, her
honey blonde hair framing her porcelain face.
“Good morning,” she whispered, smiling. Her eyes
looked away from his face, toward the open window, the cool morning breeze
billowing the pale peach curtains. She breathed in deep through her nose,
taking in the scent of the freshly cut hay.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Donald said, eyeing
her.
“I have something to tell you,” Courtney said, a
bit hesitant. “Please try to keep an
open mind? I mean, don’t get mad, okay?”
“Why ruin this moment? If it’s going to make me mad—”
“I am not going to ruin it. It’s just that—” She propped herself on her
elbow, staring down at him. “I am not the person you think I am.”
“Awk.
What do you mean?”
“Well, before I met you, I used to be a
different.” She breathed deep. “I used
to be a horse.”
“Yeah, right! And I used to be a goat!”
“I am serious.”
Donald looked at his wife and saw that she
was, indeed, serious. Her smile
faded. His smile faded along with it. He
looked at her intently, studying her golden mane and imagining her as a horse.
She would certainly fit the part.
“A horse, eh?”
“Yes, a Palomino,” Courtney said. She threw herself onto her pillow and looked
up at the ceiling. Then she giggled. She turned to him, her childlike nature
becoming more alive now. “We used to
live on a ranch in Coeur d’Alene.
The pasture was surrounded by white vinyl fences on both sides of a dirt
lane leading up to the ranch house. Tall oak trees lined the dirt path in
perfect rows. My grandfather from Switzerland planted them when he bought the
property after World War Two. There were other horses in the pasture, too. It
was definitely a time of peace.”
“Peace? How do you mean?”
“It was so peaceful in the country. We
used to romp around the pasture, chasing each other and biting each other’s
necks, our manes and long tails flowing in the summer breeze.” Again, her gaze landed on the ceiling,
remembering her past life.
“Are you saying you’re not at peace in our
marriage?”
“Oh, goodness, no! It’s just that I somehow miss those days. I
had many friends on that ranch. I think back to my good friend, Dillon, a
Morgan with his chocolate coat and shiny black mane and black tail, which his
owner had braided and adorned with red ribbons He was used for rounding cattle.
He was very good at it.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“No. I admired him. He was unabashed. I
mean, he was a stallion, with red ribbons in his hair. But he didn’t mind. As long as we were all together, roaming
around those green pastures, we were happy.”
“Were there other horses you may have
loved?”
“Oh, I suppose there’s Rusty. He was an
Appaloosa but with rust-colored spots. He was just a yearling. Hadn't even been
saddle broke. But he got really sick
with colic and almost died. Our owner was all but ready to put him down when,
miraculously, Rusty recovered. Then
there was Red Fox Dancer. He used to be a race horse. After each race, he would pose for the
camera. Whenever he spotted someone taking pictures, he would strike a pose,
and then when he heard the camera click, he would go back to grazing. But he
fell during a race and broke his back. They had to shoot him on the
track." A tear escaped and dripped down her cheek and made its
way toward her chin, finally resting on her neck. She wiped her
eye. "It was so sad."
“But not all your horse friends had
something miserable happen in their life, did they?”
“No.
There were some very good times. I used to run carefree, with my teenage
master on my back, beyond the white fences and into the thicket. There, beyond
the shrubs, she met her boyfriend who rode a black Quarter horse named Shasta.
While the two young lovers embraced each other and ate chicken wings from their
picnic basket, Shasta and I danced circles around each other, kicking our hoofs
up in the air in horse play. We didn’t have to be tied to any trees. We knew we would get a sweet apple from the
orchard if we behaved. We cherished our
time together, Shasta and I." Her voice trailed off. "I
don't know whatever became of him."
When Courtney had finished, she looked over at
Donald, who stretched out his arms and yawned.
“We need to get up and get this day
started,” he said, sitting up and facing away from her. She felt slighted and her heart sank. He didn’t
believe her story. She felt relieved, however,
that she had finally faced up to him and told him the truth. She would never
need to mention it again. She climbed out of bed, shook her long hair and stepped
toward the window where she looked out at the horses in the pasture, secretly
wishing she could be one of them again.
END
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