Sunday, May 5
I emailed my cowboy friend, Frank, and asked when I could move cattle around with him. The last time we spoke was a year-and-a-half ago, right after my accident on BlackJack. Frank told me to get rid of that horse and he’d find me a new one. But I loved BlackJack and couldn’t get rid of him. Instead, my friend, Kaitlin, bought me a lesson with her trainer and I got back on him with my broken nose, stitched lip, and black-and-blue face. The trainer tried not to stare when we met.
Frank’s daughter emailed me back. Frank died of a heart attack weeks after we’d spoken. He was fifty-nine. I sat on the couch and cried. I called Kaitlin. I hadn’t seen or ridden with her since last fall. We went for a ride. As we headed down the trail, Kaitlin told me her father died, her dog died, and she and her husband were not doing well. We hit golf balls at the driving range afterward.
“You seeing anyone?” she asked.
“No. Well, this golf instructor gave me a free lesson and is giving me another one tomorrow. We’ve been texting each other, but I don’t know if it’s anything.”
Kaitlin got a big smile on her face.
“I know. The divorcee and the golf pro. Cliché, right? And too soon for anything.”
“No. You were unhappy for years. I think you’re probably ready.”
My purse vibrated. I pulled out my phone.
“Ha, that’s him,” I laughed.
“How was your day?” Golf Guy texted. “Did you ride?”
“I did. Good ride. At the driving range with my riding buddy now. We still meeting tomorrow? How was your day?”
“My only opening tomorrow is 6 pm.”
“Works for me if it works for you. Are you spent by then?”
“No. Should be ok. Look forward to it.”
“Want to do dinner? My treat for golf?”
“Thanks, but I can’t tomorrow. I promised my 12-year-old I would try to catch some of his lacrosse scrimmage/practice tomorrow evening. Thanks though. How about a raincheck?”
“How did you do at the range today?” Golf Guy texted later.
“Pretty decent. Playing nine holes with my son in the morning. Doing yoga now and just did the splits!”
“I want to see you do the splits.”
“You show me, I’ll show you.”
“OK, but sounds like I might tear some things.”