Page 1 of Saddle Studs
1
SAM
“Yeah,so, I guess I own a horse now.”
My therapist’s face cracked the tiniest amount as he swallowed down the surprised “huh” that tried to force its way out of his mouth.
I internally gave myself a pat on the back. I couldn’t surprise him often, so I’d take whatever small win I could get.
Especially these days.
“A horse? Like, an actual horse, or is this some kind of new slang I’m not aware of?”
I nodded, stretched out my legs and rubbed my stiff thighs, trying to get blood flow back in my lower extremities before my dick fell off. “An actual horse. Well, a mini-horse. So . . . half of a horse, I guess? I don’t know. I’m not a horse specialist.”
I could tell Zack was working overtime to try to understand this sudden diversion in the session. We’d spent nearly the entire hour discussing ways I could reframe my thoughts and combat the ever-present cloud of depression that clung to me like cigarette smoke inside a classic yellow cab. I only decided in the last five minutes to drop the bomb of my surprise (and relatively useless) inheritance.
“My good family friend, Frankie—he was like an uncle to me. Was around when my parents weren’t. Anyway, he apparently owned some kind of stake in Rainbow Ranch, but it had to be a joke or just a symbolic thing. They gave him a fifteen-by-fifteen-foot patch of land near the pasture along with Dennis, the ranch’s mini-horse.” I pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper I’d found in my mailbox earlier that morning. “And he, subsequently, left his pile of riches to me.” I leaned forward and handed Zack the letter, trying to keep as much of the sarcastic bite out of my tone as I could.
Zack scanned the letter while I looked out the window toward the always beautiful, incredibly toxic Hudson River. The Empire State Building rose like a concrete-and-glass giant amid its smaller and possibly rat-infested neighbors. A few other buildings reached nearly its height, but none possessed the same kind ofregalityas the Empire State.
“I’m going to miss it.”
“Hmm?”
“The city.”
“So, you’ve decided then?”
I nodded, looking back out the window. A stipulation had been written into the contract. If I wanted to either sell, own, or transfer any of my inheritance, then I’d have to live and work on the ranch for a total of ninety days.
The inheritance may have been silly, but the timing of it was surreal. After the shit show of the last few months, I felt like this was Frankie’s way of saying he still had my back even when he was gone. “I’ve got nothing left here.”
Zack placed the letter on his lap and steepled his fingers in a way that had to have been taught in therapy school. Probably first semester material. “Let’s not use absolutes likenothing. We can always findsomething.”
“Fine, I’ve gotnear-nothing left here.”
“That’s… right, let’s run with that.”
I took the paper back from Zack and folded it along the lines, stuffing it into my shorts pocket. “My career is pretty much in a death spiral, my girlfriend left me for the man I thought was my best friend, my favorite barber shop got shut down for money laundering—and did I mention the whole girlfriend thing? That actually happened twice.”
Zack couldn’t keep the surprise from coloring his expression this time. His brows knitted and his eyes widened before he caught himself. His face went neutral, back snapping straight, shoulders stiff as a board.
Nice,I thought, rewarding myself with another mental pat.Twice in one session
“With the same?—”
“Different girls, same friend. Yeah.”
Zack blinked a couple of times and—very much to his credit, and likely the reason behind his glowing reviews on therapygarden.com—withheld any judgement, or shock, or “holy fuck, that’s bad” from showing on his face. He leaned back in his tall leather wingback chair and smiled at me. “Separating yourself physically from all of this could help you heal. But I know you have some avoidance tendencies, and I don’t want those kicking in either. Have you had time to digest all of this? How leaving New Jersey and going to…”
“Oklahoma.”
“Oklahoma,” he said as if he were trying to pronounce an alien pronoun. “Are you okay with that?”
Nowtherewas the million-dollar question. Was I okay with going back to the small town I’d grown up in, constantly feeling like an outsider, like my heart and soul and destiny were all being pulled in a different direction, tugging me farther and farther away from Johnson Springs? Was I okay with going back there? It was the place I had wanted so desperately to leave, onlybecause being there made me confront parts of myself I refused to even acknowledge.
Becausehemade me confront those parts of myself…
