I nearly made a mistake today on the second-to-last jump, when I didn’t support Coronado enough, and felt his hind legs clip a rail. But the rail stayed up. It was all Coronado. In moments like that, you were supposed to imagine you were riding with your arms, helping to carry the horse over the jump.
This time I pictured myself nearly dropping him.
But didn’t.
“You relaxed,” Daniel said.
“I’m about as relaxed these days as a hummingbird,” I said.
“Then you lost concentration,” he said.
“Now that I can do,” I said.
“A boxer drops his guard and gets knocked out,” he said.
“Boxing is dumb,” I said.
“Losing concentration on this horse is much dumber,” he said.
“Your motivational speaking needs some work, have I ever mentioned that?” I said.
I trotted Coronado then. Emilio helped me down and walked the horse back to the barn. Daniel and I watched the video he’d taken of both rounds on his phone. He pointed out a couple of other technical mistakes, especially a rollback early in the jump-off where I’d taken the safe route and not made as much of an inside turn as I could have.
“A half second,” he said, “could make all the difference between qualifying and not qualifying.”
“At least I went clean,” I said.
“Barely,” he said.
“Come on,” I said. “You know I did good today.”
He smiled. “How about I reward you by buying you a burger later?” he said.
“Sure,” I said, hoping I didn’t answer too quickly and sound too eager. “But no drinking. I’m in training.”
“In that case, you drive,” he said. “Pick me up around seven.”
“Deal.”
Well, I thought, look at him. Asking me out on a real date. I’d said yes before really thinking about it. He could make the next move, if there was ever going to be a next move.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted there to be a next move.
Then why are you even going?
I knew that answer, too. Because I was curious to see if he would bring up that night.
Daniel was good and good-looking. And kind. Definitely kind. But still my trainer. It was probably inevitable that if some kind of romantic relationship did start, any awkward twist would mess up my relationship with him as my trainer.
And given my short odds with long-term boyfriends, it would get messed up. Maybe that’s what I ought to tell him if he brought up the kisses we’d shared.
If he didn’t bring it up, well, then screw it and screw him.
Not that I was on edge.
I didn’t need Daniel telling me to relax right now, like I was going into the ring. Needed to do it myself.
You’re going out for a burger, not looking to make things official.
I was about five minutes late arriving at the small ranch house on Pierson. Becky Standard Time. I’d thought about getting my hair done but had decided I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, going all girly-girl on him.
Yup, I thought.
Your move, Daniel.
But when I pulled into the driveway, his used Kia, which he liked to say had a million miles on it, wasn’t there.
Maybe for once he was running even later than me. Or he’d loaned his car to one of his carless friends from the other barns.
I checked my phone to see if I had missed a text. Nothing. Got out of the car and went and rang the doorbell.
Waited.
Nothing.
Pulled out my phone and texted him.
where the heck are u?
No response. I called his number and was sent straight to voicemail.
I went back to the car and sat there waiting.
Seven thirty.
Now I was worried, not about him standing me up, but that something might have happened with what he called the federales.
Texted him again.
No response.
Called again.
Voicemail.
I waited until eight o’clock and drove home. The other two Atwood women were out to dinner. I cooked up some pasta, ate it. Texted and called again.
Nothing from Daniel.
Around eleven o’clock I couldn’t take it, got back into the car and drove back over to his house. No car in the driveway. No lights.
The next morning, he didn’t show up at the barn.
THIRTY-TWO
DANIEL USUALLY BEAT the grooms to the barn. I didn’t hear from him on Monday. He didn’t show up for work on Tuesday morning, either.
“We need to call the police,” Mom said. “Something has obviously happened to him.”
“We can’t,” I said.