“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, she is. Pearce went to a horse auction, looking for a younger horse, but he found Mia. She’s twelve, and no one was going to take her, not because of her age though. Twelve isn’t old for a horse. She’s phobic about water. Won’t go near it apparently. You pretty much get one chance to teach a horse that water isn’t a danger. They don’t understand that they won’t fall through a puddle. Don’t like when they can’t see the bottom of things, where they go. They have to learn. Mia obviously had some kind of traumatic experience with water that we’ll never know about, so she wasn’t an appealing horse at the auction. There are people who go to those auctions just to buy up horses for meat for France and Japan. Killers, they’re called. Pearce ended up bidding against some of those guys. He overpaid and saved her. She wasn’t what he was looking for. She’s not perfect, but he loves her.”
The sound of his guitar trickles through the phone, and I listen silently for a while.
Sabin waits me out.
I shut my laptop and close my eyes. “She doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s okay. She’s perfect for you.”
“She is.”
“I’m glad he saved her.”
“Me, too.” Sabin plucks out a few notes. “Blythe?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry.”
I start crying.
“Ah, shit, B. Please don’t cry. I’m not worth it. I’m just a complete tool.”
“It’s not you,” I get out. “Well, not just you. Annie sent me this movie thing she made…with all these pictures. Seeing my parents again…before this, I haven’t really looked at many pictures at all. There’s video and everything.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “It was the best and the worst.”
He lets me cry for a few minutes. “So, you know the swords that I gave you?”
“I love them.”
“I have another present for you. Your real one. Want to come over and get it?”
“Okay. Sabin? You’re not a tool,” I say. “Just prone to being snotty and mean.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
I tiptoe upstairs to my bedroom and gently shake Chris. “I have to go see Sabin.”
He rolls over and yawns. “Now?”
“Yeah.”
Chris opens his eyes and takes my hand. “Okay. I can’t drive you. I had three scotches, and they were all very big.”
I smile. “I know. I can drive. It’s okay.”
“Text me when you get there. And tell him I love him even though he’s a fucking moron.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, love.”
Chris rolls over and starts snoring immediately. I tussle my fingers through his hair and watch him for a few minutes. Then, I kiss his cheek and head out.
The drive this time is easier because there’s little traffic on Christmas night. My headlights flash over Sabin, who is waiting for me in the parking area before the bridge. I get out and run into his arms, and he buries his face in my neck.
Apologies don’t have to be spoken now. It’s easy for me to forgive Sabin.
We stand in each other’s hold for what feels like an eternity, and I don’t want it to end because we are both safe and calm like this. There is no room for dead parents or hurling of insults or holiday-induced rage. There is just us.
