Elise
by Julie Maidment She slowed in front of Cameo’s stall. The shavings were smooth. The water bucket was upside down. There was no hay in the corner. Cameo was not here.
Elise stopped inside the barn aisle. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust. It was Thursday, her riding lesson day. “Hi Elise!” Dana smiled and clipped cross-ties onto the halter of a small chestnut gelding. Elise rubbed her eyes and shook her arms. Stiff kneed, she walked down the aisle toward her instructor. The horse standing in the aisle was light brown. The horse was not Cameo. Cameo was red-brown with a black mane and tail. She had a white blaze and four black stockings. She had white socks on her front legs. “Cameo died?” Dana’s smile turned down. Elise’s parents must have prepared her. Elise brought her shoulders up, twisted her face, and rolled her head, her helmet tipped back, chin strap dangling. Dana knew to let her be. Through the open arena door she saw Elise’s mother inside the parked Audi holding her phone and taking a sip from a Starbucks cup. Dana lowered her gaze. “Cameo died. I’m sorry.” Elise never made eye contact. 24
Dana had not been told anything specific about Elise’s disability. She taught at a Big Lesson Barn smack in the middle of the burbs. Students learned to walk, trot, and canter and grin for a selfie to show off their schooling show ribbon. A few kept on with lessons and once in a while a student like Elise found their way here instead of enrolling in a therapeutic riding program. Elise rode Cameo once a week. Elise stood next to the chestnut, tapping the close contact saddle with her fingertips. This was not Cameo’s saddle. She tilted her chin, her eyes finding Cameo’s empty stall. Her fingers slid down the skirt of the saddle leaving glide marks in the Murphy’s Oil Soap. Dana looked down at Elise’s helmet, smudged with fingerprints. “You’re riding Oliver today. He was Cameo’s friend.” Dana told Elise to adjust her helmet and fasten her chinstrap. She glanced outside. Elise’s mother turned the page of a paperback. Mouth set in a line, Dana unclipped the cross ties and removed the halter she had placed over Oliver’s bridle. She left it askew on a nearby hook.
Elise followed Dana and Oliver to the indoor arena. She was careful to stay back. The length of a box stall she had been told. A box stall is twelve feet. She slowed in front of Cameo’s stall. The shavings were smooth. The water bucket was upside down. There was no hay in the corner. Cameo was not here. Inside the arena Dana pulled down the stirrups. Elise was her last student today. In about an hour she would leave and drive to another barn to teach students showing this weekend. There were a few last-minute items to pack in the trailer and she wanted to stop at the grocery store for plums and grapes. She couldn’t remember if her picnic cooler was in the basement or the garage. She added ice to her grocery list. Elise picked her feet high, stepping from the concrete aisle onto the arena footing. In this way, she walked to Oliver’s left side. She bent her knee for Dana’s leg up. Elise positioned her fingers and thumbs on the correct color of the rainbow reins. Her feet dangled, bumping the stirrup treads. She leaned to the left, her eyes moving over the saddle. This was not Cameo’s saddle. She wiggled her feet. 25
