Bloodless Day

Before

The bus driver shook his head as he swung the door open. "Dammed prom. Getting y'all drunk."

"We're not drunk," I said hotly.

"I wish it was temporary as drunkeness," Jack muttered, limping down the bus steps. I followed him into the cool Kentucky night, breathing deep breaths of air greedily, letting it ice over my lungs. "Shall we?"

The bus doors shut with a hiss, sliding away to drop off other late travelers. The black road greedily ate its light, and soon we were all alone. I stared up the white ribbon of a driveway and then at Jack, who leaned heavily against the entry gate. Open when it was usually closed at this time, waiting for Lilac and Wes to get home. "Should I run ahead and get your wheelchair?"

The answer took its time arriving, its non-presence curling around us like an insinuation. My heart tapped against my chest, uncertain. Jack's face was painted a bone-white by the moon, his eyes nothing but dark hollows. We stood on the brink of something more. This night stretched out in endless directions.

Jack shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Maybe I was over analyzing. Anna, don't be foolish. Arms swung over shoulders, we began staggering up the driveway towards the barn, two almost-adults as intent on seeing the ponies as a couple of horse-crazy five year olds would be. I began to laugh. The sound startled us both, punching into the night. Somewhere, a foal bleated its surprise.

"What?" Jack stopped mid-step, staring at me. "What is it?"

My laughter sputtered in my throat, hitched, continued on. "It's just- us," I managed. "Leaving the ball to go to the barn. Like some backwards Cinderella."

That wasn't the cause of my laughter at all- I couldn't really put into words what was- but the corner of Jack's mouth lifted into a smile. "You're crazy." At his words, my giggles subsided, leaving something very still in me. The hand that wasn't pulling balance from my shoulder lifted to trace my jawline, leaving a fiery memory of his touch in its wake.

"God, Anna. Just-" his voice cracked. "God. Let's go see the horses."

We continued on, my heart tripping as often as he did, no words left to balance between us, and we reached the barn in this fashion. Hopeful, greedy whinnies greeted us, but I stopped when Jack began to tug me towards BD's stall.

"No," I said firmly, though what was on my mind was anything but. "Let's go visit first.... Jersey Boy."

His eyes glinted a question in the sliver of moonlight that reached us, but he allowed me to lead him across the courtyard towards Jersey Boy's stall.

I wasn't sure why I wanted to visit him. He was a failure of a racehorse, of little meaning to BD and I's unerring course towards the Derby, and yet-

"He kinda started it all, didn't he?" Jack asked softly as we entered the stable and a familiar silhouette swept over the stall door. Dark chocolate eyes rolled, a slender, powerful leg stomped, and flame-shaped ears tipped forwards in curiosity. I didn't ask what 'it all' was as Jersey Boy sighed, his warm breath washing over my skin.

"He did," I sighed, giving him a pat before we moved on. Turns out, it wasn't Jersey Boy I wanted to see.

The next horse we visited was My Girl, the filly I helped halter break. Already she was grown, powerfully built with a regal expression chiseled into her face. In a year she would be racing. Something in my tugged at this, at the fierce pride and nostalgia in having a hand in this gorgeous animal's past and hopefully future.

Magic. Skip. Granite. Holiday Break. We visited them all, whispering from stall to stall, until we ended up in one that still stood empty.

Shamrock.

It looked as though it would be occupied any day. Fresh bedding filled every corner of it, an empty haynet hung from the wall, and a clean bucket took up an entire corner, ready to be filled at a minutes notice. So much promise in a single stall, and so many promises, broken and shattered. Jack touched me, his fingers lingering on my upper arm. Those five points grounded me, kept my soul from floating up, up, until it reached wherever Shamrock was.

"She was the best," he said softly, drawing tears from my eyes.

"Absolutely. I don't think I'll ever forget her."

The memory of her sweet gaze, the funny marking on her forehead, her softly gleaming chestnut color, struck me so powerfully that I could almost imagine her standing in that stall, dozing, wrapped in a blanket of peace. Against my arm, Jack's hand trembled, and I realized he was just as tired and sad and happy as I was.

"Let's go visit the one who is the best."

We left Shamrock, my shammy girl, and wandered around towards BD's stall. His head wasn't popped out over the door, and I didn't hear the comforting chewing of hay, so for a moment I allowed myself a panic at the thought that he might be in the pasture. But then I heard a sigh, and he was laying down in his stall, tiny and vulnerable and on the brink of sleep.

There was something humbling about the trusting way he'd lowered himself to the ground, made small, eyes fluttering in exhaustion. He was utterly relaxed, and I couldn't help but feel the same.

"I'm going to go in," I said quietly. Jack looked at me, and then glanced down my body in response. I did, too, suddenly remembering that it was prom night and I was wearing something a little nicer than jeans. "It's just a dress."

He stepped back and allowed me to softly slide the stall door open, stepping into BD's stall. He'd woken, lifting his head to study me with eyes that reflected the sky as I crept near him, hands reaching to pat him and stroke his neck. It was a great honor for a horse to allow somebody near it while he was laying down, as it was such a vulnerable position for horses that only the most trusted could do it. But BD allowed me to, and as my hand pressed against his neck, he closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly exhausted, I curled into the straw next to him, watching BD lower his head back to the ground and stretch out, his breaths deepening.

I watched the horse and Jack watched me and high above us, spinning in their infinite celestial dance, the stars watched Jack.

*****

HAPPY NEW YEAR! *blows kazoo* How've y'all been? What are your resolutions? Mine involve finishing several books and starting others and not being a bitch to my friends and maybe getting another horse. I don't know yet. Maybe I'll look into a ukelele instead- they're as reasonable a decision and don't eat as much hay.

Also, enjoy my little BD doodle I did in my most boring class, which was either fourth or sixth hour I can't really remember. Maybe second. Possibly first. No. Second. I think. Or fourth. Whatever. I'm tired. Good night!