9 Skyler Finds His Footing

July 17th

Lucas Barclay had seemed excited to get the text I sent him this morning confirming that yes, I would love to visit his weird dying-horses farm and also could he possibly come pick me up? I didn't start my summer classes until later that day, and Matt's lack of response to my GIF was hanging over my head. I needed something to distract me.

Which, for the moment, was the gigantic black eyes of an arthritic horse who could probably see into my soul.

"So, to be clear," I said, glancing over to Lucas, "you actually get up on one of these guys? Like on their backs? Ten feet in the air?"

He laughed. "Well, most of them not so much—with a few exceptions, like Dakota and Jupiter and Nala over there." He pointed to each horse in their assigned stall. "Our mission here is education for the kiddos and end-of-life care for the horses. A lot of these guys were brought to us from people who couldn't take care of them anymore." He rubbed the enormous side of the horse I'd been introduced to. "They don't have anyone else."

Just like the Prescotts had adopted me. Didn't think I'd be identifying with a dying horse today, but I guess that's where life has taken me.

"If you're comfortable ..." Lucas said, holding up an expensive-looking camera, "a short photo op?" He shot me a bright grin. "I promise I won't make you get on a horse yet."

"In that case, I'm down."

He instructed me where to stand and how to hold the lead. The nice thing about all these horses being as ... vintage as they were, was that I didn't have to worry about trying to keep them still. This particular elder—Lillybud?—seemed content to chill out here in the pasture, her head gently bumping against mine.

I'd thought I'd be distracted by Lucas circling us and snapping away, but my attention drifted to the acres of grass rippling in the breeze. We were still in the city limits, but somehow this ranch felt isolated and calm. It made sense that Lucas and his mom would open a horse retirement home here. There was such a stillness that didn't exist back home.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there next to Lillybud, both of us just vibing while Lucas did his thing, but finally he walked closer, grinning and holding out his camera.

"You're a natural," he said, angling the screen so I could see the shots he'd taken. "Your face'll make fantastic press."

The photos were really good. There was even a lens flare situation happening that I had no idea how he'd accomplished. "Ah yes, me, the enviable young face of horsepice care."

Lucas gaped at me. "Oh my god. Horsepicecare. I love it, but do not let my mother hear you say that or she'll threaten to rename this place, and we'll have to completely rebrand."

A voice chimed in from behind us. "Don't let your mother hear what?"

We turned to see a petite woman who shockingly resembled Lucas holding out a tray with lemonade glasses on it. She gave me a friendly and intimidatingly immaculate smile. "Are you Skyler? You look like a Skyler."

Lucas handled the introductions. "Mom, this is, in fact, Skyler Evans, whose talent I discovered at a bakery, let it be known. Skyler, my mother, Cheyenne Barclay, matriarch of the ranch. But don't worry, she's harmless."

I'd done some hasty research after meeting with Lucas at the cafe. The Barclay family had been wealthy for generations, dating back to a great-grandparent who had apparently patented a popular brand of canned beef that was still mass produced and sold almost exclusively to poor college kids.

Barclay Beef. Like all the best food, it was disgusting but also delicious.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barclay," I said, extending my hand to her. "It's been a really rough last few days, and Lucas has been so nice."

"Nice? My Lucas? Can't be, he's a bitch."

Lucas, clearly not offended in the slightest, grinned brightly. "Like my mummy."

Cheyenne ignored her son and grasped my hand. Hard. "A pleasure, Skyler Evans. But call me Cheyenne, because I'm a young, fun mom."

Beside me, Lucas snort-coughed.

"So Skyler," Cheyenne continued, as chipper and friendly as Lucas, "have you had much experience with horses before?"

I glanced at Lillybud, who was still snuffling around my hair. "If by experience you mean that technically I knew they existed in places nowhere near me, then yes, I'm an expert."

Cheyenne stroked Lillybud's neck thoughtfully, surveying me with a critical eye. "Well, Miss Lilly seems like she's a fan. You like 'em?"

"They're sweet," I said, barely able to answer before another elderly horse moseyed my way and nuzzled my shoulder. "Oh. Hi. Who's this?"

Cheyenne and Lucas exchanged a look. "That's Major Bananas," she said. "He's actually one of our more skittish customers. Seems you have a vibe they really respect. Getting a horse to trust you isn't always as easy as it seems." She had another silent conversation with her son about my apparent horse-whisperer superpower, then said: "You're welcome to come hang out after your classes; we could always use an extra hand. Especially when that hand's connected to a young horse prodigy such as yourself."

I didn't realize I was staring in surprise until Major Bananas gently drenched my shoulder in drool. I'd just be sitting in my dorm room when not in class, which wouldn't be conducive to avoiding a guilty, existential crisis. This would give me something to do, and people—and horses—to do it with. "Oh my god, yes, thank you? What would you need from me?"

Lucas jumped in, face alight with excitement. "Petting, which you already have down. But there'd be a bit of heavy lifting occasionally, keeping up with their feedings and you know. Scooping some poop. I can walk you through it—if I can do it, you can certainly do it."

"I find that hard to believe, but sure." I hurried to add. "I know Lucas finding me dissociating in a coffee shop doesn't make me seem super stable, but I promise you can count on me. I'm a fast learner and I like trying new things."

New things, like moving to a new state by myself for reasons that I'd never explain. I was a lying liar who lies.

"Heh. Stable." Cheyenne grinned. "That's all I'm ever hoping for. Welcome to the family." She brushed a strand of blonde hair off her forehead with her pinkie. "Horse puns are currency in these parts, and laughing your way through a tough time is an important life skill. You know why we take in horses here, Skyler?"

My eyes fell back to the stable of old, discarded horses sadly withering away. "Because you feel sorry for them?"

"Because," Lucas said, unleashing another warm smile that should've been unnerving but was actually incredibly comforting, "whether it's people or horses, everyone goes through rough patches sometimes. And we want to help."

I refused to cry in front of people (and horses) I'd only just met, but a wave of homesickness rolled over me so hard it hurt. I focused on continuing to cuddle Lillybud and Major Bananas, who had won me over. "Thank you. I promise I'll work really hard here for as long as you let me."

"That's great to hear. Be sure to look after yourself and stay in school, though." Cheyenne winked, and after Lucas declined an invitation to stay for dinner later at the gigantic estate up the hill that was apparently their house, he offered to drive me back to campus.

"If it's okay with you," Lucas said as he effortlessly weaved through traffic, "I need to make a stop on the way. I'll make sure you aren't late to class."

"Yeah, of course."

He drove us to another gigantic estate, one that was flanked on either side with elaborate hedges. I blinked to make sure we hadn't time-traveled back to the 1800s.

"Don't tell me this is your weekend house," I managed weakly, mid-gape.

"Oh, god, no, this is my boyfriend Darren's house. I got back from out of town yesterday, and he was holding some things for me that I'm picking up." Lucas twirled a set of keys and grinned. "He finally gave me the key to his place!" He wiggled excitedly in his seat for a moment before popping the doors so we could step outside. "I told Mom he'd come around."

"That's cool," I said, bobbing my head in a supportive nod and not sure how else I was meant to respond. "Congrats."

I followed Lucas as we made our way up the front walk. I wanted to ask if Darren lived in this enormous mansion by himself, but I was afraid that Lucas would say yes. We stepped into an entirely monochrome foyer and then into an equally monochrome kitchen. Atop a gray counter was a fish tank.

"Hey, guys," Lucas addressed the two fish circling the underwater castle. "Did you miss me? Did Darren take good care of you?"

I examined the little guys swimming leisurely. "Now this is the appropriate pet size—I don't have to worry that these guys can kill me."

Lucas sniffed. "Our horses are not pets. Also we've already established that you're Horse Jesus, so don't even pretend like you don't have The Gift. But also also, if you were worried about being murdered by tiny fish, I think you'd have bigger problems." He grinned. "This betta," he pointed to the more colorful fish, "is Gaston. Very fitting, as he's flashy and flamboyant. Which means that this little guppy"—indicating the other, duller-colored fish—"of course, is LeFou."

"Nice." It certainly looked like a LeFou. I waved a finger at the little guys, hoping Lucas wouldn't need me to feed them.

After I'd been given advice on how to lift the tank in a way that wouldn't murder the unsuspecting fish, Lucas and I carefully maneuvered Gaston and LeFou outside to the car. We successfully transported them in one (two) pieces to Lucas's new apartment, and after making sure the fish were settled, Lucas drove me back to campus. It was an hour later, once I was heading to class and away from the safety of Lucas's mother-hen energy, that Matt finally texted me back.

Matt: glad you're not dead

Matt: but just know that I'm writing a think-piece as we speak about why Washington is better than California, expect it in your inbox

Matt: not that you'd read that EITHER while you're out shopping for a new brother

My breath hitched the longer I stared at his texts, trying to figure out his tone. Dread crept under my skin. Deciding to play along, I changed the subject:

Skyler: I can't speak much for California as a state, but I met a photographer who's also kind of a cowboy who offered me a part-time job, so that was nice

Another text popped in, but in the group chat this time. And it was Delia.

Delia: um exqueeze me hello matt just said you were a cowboy now so pls spill

Skyler: Matthew has misinterpreted the situation, I am not a cowboy

Skyler: I am a model. Who has a proximity to horses. But also doing ranch work. It's a whole thing

It was the most I'd spoken to her since...since I'd left. It was so easy to fall back into our rapport; I could see her perched on the corner of the couch, stroking Matt's hair as we watched a film to make fun of—

I wanted to ask how she was doing, how her latest painting was shaping up. But my throat burned, and my fingers were frozen.

Delia: EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW

Skyler: I would but I gotta get to class, first day, ttyl

Matt: wow less than a week there and you're already snatching jobs and nabbing friends, sooo happy for you

Matt: do good school with whatever it is you decided to study over there

He was furious.

I was contemplating how to respond when Delia private-messaged me.

Delia: hey I know he was kind of bitchy a minute ago but I wanted to make sure you know we are both really proud of you for doing what you want to do, okay? Even if it's in California. We just miss you and I haven't forgotten that you owe me $20 from our last poker match, ignore at your own risk

Delia: go to class, I love you!

I stared at her message long enough that the screen went fuzzy, before:

Skyler: love you too.