See In Him

22

The sun was hot and high in the sky when Jesse took a cab to the funeral home where Grayson's service would be held at nine sharp. Jesse didn't say a word to either Michael or Kennith that morning, although Michael knew the man was tired because he had heard Jesse quietly crying for a lot of the night. Kennith complained that Jesse's mother snored loudly to fill the sad quiet of the morning in the barn. Kennith didn't sleep at all, either, so he was grumpy. Michael felt as though he was emotionally supporting both boys that morning. His coffee wasn't going to help him much, he decided. He sighed before taking his first sip.

They were allowed to help themselves to food in the house, but Jesse encouraged them to stay in the barn. Then, later that night, they would catch a plane back home.

Kennith grew fidgety only thirty minutes after Jesse left, so Michael went for a walk with him around the property. Kennith didn't like looking at the cows in the feild like Michael did, since he couldn't enjoy them, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way back to the barn. There wasn't much else on the property, anyway. As dead, dry grass crunched under their feet, Kennith removed that old, black sweater he often wore and Michael silently took it to hold. It was instinct now.

"You going to go into the barn? See the animals?" Michael wondered aloud.

"What else are we supposed to do? Jesse didn't say we couldn't."

His father hummed. In the shade of the barn, the smell of hot grass wasn't as strong. Instead, he could smell the feed given to the animals inside and got a whiff of an old mouse corpse, remnants of the barn cat's dinner.

"'Which one is Barlow?" Michael asked. Kennith thought for a moment. "I think he's close to the end. There's a plaque over his door."

"Oh, this one. Hello, Barlow," his father said, leaving him at the open entrance. The old horse was allowed outside, since the back door of his stall was opened to a little pasture, but he didn't have the energy to stand out in the sun. Instead, he sniffed at Michael before digging his greying nose into his red feed bucket. Kennith followed his father, smiling at the hulking shape of Barlow.

"Pretty horse," Michael decided. Kennith hummed his agreement. He wanted to touch Barlow again, feel his coat and the heartbeat beneath. "How long did Jesse say he's had this horse?"

"Since he was thirteen or fourteen, or something like that. But he got it when the horse was a little older, too, I think," Kennith replied. Michael sighed. "Wow. That's an old horse."

Kennith nodded. He wished Jesse could stay longer with his horse. The animal, instead of eating, snorted into his bucket and finally grew interested in Michael, who smiled and pet at the bridge of Barlow's nose. "We can probably brush him," Kennith said. He wasn't afraid of the horse when he undid the latch to his stall and stepped in beside the animal. It leaned around, neck aching, to sniff his arm. Then it lost its strength and dropped its head to nibble at straw.

"Here," his father said, having found the bucket of brushes and giving one to Kennith.

"Thanks," the boy replied, pressing the curry comb against the animal's coat. "Hey, did you talk to Jesse's parents again? They sound like total assholes."

"Yeah," his father sighed, "They... certainly have their own views. Very religious. I can see why Jesse might have butted heads with them."

"I don't think they just butted heads. Jesse's terrified of his mom."

Both frowned down at the horse. Micheal could hear his son's brain working, plotting. Part of him was proud to know that Kennith wanted to protect Jesse, but there was also a twinge of worry that stirred in his gut. If Kennith were to instigate an argument between him and Jesse's parents, it could very well all blow back on Jesse himself. Kennith wouldn't think of that. He would only worry about his own rage.