Four
Riley
Iwanted to put my fist through the wall. My father called the owner of the club I was in last night and had me escorted off the premises with instructions to head straight home. The bouncer at the place laughed at me as he walked me back to my truck. It was humiliating. My drive home was twenty over the speed limit. I felt destructive. I often did when I was angry.
Father had been standing out on the front porch, waiting for me. He walked me to his office, sat me down, and then told me to grow up. He told me to stop bringing girls to the stable and to lay off Emma. He thought I was crossing a line, and treating a woman that way was not acceptable.
“It’s not how I raised you,” he said.
Technically, he was correct, because he didn’t do much parenting at all. The only difference was this wasn’t a behavior he taught me. It was one that had festered from emotional neglect, hard feelings, and my ego. My ego had a large part in that equation.
I was told to apologize to Emma that morning and to call a cease-fire. I paid Emma a visit, all right, but it wasn’t to apologize. I almost put a hole in the wall of her trailer in anger. I had anger issues I couldn’t work out, and Emma was my release.
I had been boiling mad, but when she opened the door, and I saw what she was wearing, I lost steam quickly. I would have to be blind to not appreciate Emma’s beauty. Her long blond hair had a light natural curl to it, and it framed her face. She was in a sports bra and volleyball shorts. She had developed since high school.
For a minute, I was almost sad that she hated my guts. Then the lies I told myself for years snapped back into place. I was too good for Emma. She deserved everything she got. Lies. It’s a shame that this hatred was so second nature; to sleep with her would be quite the experience, I was sure.
Before I knew it, she was aiming a stapler at my head, and I was reminded that she hated my guts and she was about to prove it. I had pushed her just a little bit further, because that’s what I did; I pushed everyone, especially Emma, to their limits. I could feel her heavy breath on my face and see her body’s reaction to me. I had enjoyed that.
What almost was would never be, and that stapler was just a reminder of it. It would pierce my face like she had pierced my heart, fifteen years ago. I had needed her, and she had failed me. It was something I had a hard time forgiving, even after all of these years, even though I knew it was senseless holding onto this grudge. It was easier than saying I was sorry and asking for forgiveness.
I walked out of the trailer laughing at the girl. She screamed in rage after me. I knew we both had the anger part down, but was she as attracted to me as I was her? Sure, her body gave her away, but it didn’t tell me what exactly had caused her reaction. Was it to me specifically, or just the fact that I was a male? It’s not like she got much attention from guys when she remained cooped up here on the farm.
It didn’t matter anyways. If she was ever anything to me, it would just be a notch in my bedpost and my verbal punching bag. That’s all I ever needed, someone to sleep with, and someone to take my anger out on.
I left after that. I left the farm and went out. I had people to see and things to do before leaving town for my next race. I drove by the train station, and my mood soured at the sight. That’s how my mom left. According to my father, she took a taxi right to that very spot. She bought a ticket for New York and never looked back. I punched my steering wheel in anger.
I hadn’t heard from my mother in ten years. I got a call on my thirteenth birthday, and that was the last I heard from her. Good riddance. If she couldn’t give a damn about me, then I wouldn’t her. I would rebel against her, against my father, against anyone who wanted to control me without caring about me.
The sad truth was that no one cared about me. They cared about my money or my status. I’d only had one real friend, but she—we screwed that up. I wasn’t sure what was going to give. Would Emma and I die on this farm together, miserable and lonely, neither of us finding what we are looking for in life? Her buried in grief and malicious words and me in anger and an impulsive need to push people away?
I guessed there were worse things to do in life.
Five
Ididn’t see much of Riley for the rest of the week, to my relief. Because of that, I was feeling like myself again, comfortable inside my shell.
Riley and Trigger were out on the rodeo circuit. I hoped Tigger was doing okay. Rodrigo was out with them, so hopefully he would make sure the horse was well cared for.
The day he returned home, Riley was too tired to do anything other than mumble, “Bitch,” as he passed me. That was mild for Riley, and I would gladly accept it, if it meant him leaving my trailer alone. I would personally pay all of his entry fees if it meant he was gone all the time and I didn’t have to look at that face. That face made my heartbreak and my blood boil, all at the same time.It made me question everything I wanted or thought I needed.
I made sure Tigger was comfortable and hung his second-place ribbon outside of his stall. I left it just out of the horse’s reach. He was known to eat his ribbons, if given the chance.
The next day Riley spent all night out at the clubs. His truck rolled up the drive at three in the morning.
Instant annoyance overtook me. How many nights in a row could he interrupt my sleep? I didn’t ask for a lot in life, but I did enjoy my sleep. It’s the one time when I wasn’t thinking about what needed to be done, worrying about my grades, or thinking about my parents. Sleep was a sweet relief, and Riley had now even resorted to taking that from me. Something was going to have to give.
I had pulled the pillow over my face to try to muffle the noise when I heard a loud crashing noise.
What was that? I began throwing on clothes. I didn’t care what they were, but I had to get them on quick to see. I ran outside, pulling a hoodie over my head. I was still barefoot. My heart was racing, hoping that the horses in the barn were okay. Did part of the structure fall? I turned around, facing the main house when I saw the stable looked okay. I stood slack-jawed and couldn’t believe what I saw.
The front end of Riley’s truck was wrapped around a fence post, and he was stumbling out of the front seat. He caught me staring open mouthed at the scene before me. He was a mess. I took a few steps closer to him to make sure that he was okay, and I could see his eyes glazed over. It may have been dark out, but the interior lights of his cab showed me all I needed to see. His headlights were busted against the fencepost.
Riley stumbled a little before bringing his pointer finger up to his mouth, telling me not to say anything, not that I needed to. Lights in the house were being turned on. First in the master bedroom, then the upstairs hallway, the stairs, front foyer, and then finally the front porch. William came running out of his house with his shotgun, prepared to defend his property.
William was like me, barely clothed. It looked like he was in silk boxers and a t-shirt barely pulled over his big belly. His hair was a mess, and the hairs in his mustache were going every which way.
When he saw what caused the noise, he still chose to aim the shotgun at his son. It was leveled right at his chest. Riley threw his hands up in the air, but his reaction time was too slow. I wanted to slap the stupid out of him, but then there would be nothing left. All that boy was was stupid.
