Emily lived just down the hall from me on 3rd Pinkney, during my senior year and her freshman year at St. John’s College (the Annapolis campus). I was her RA, but other than seeing her in passing or watching her play the fiddle in the old-timey band, I didn’t know her well.
I graduated, and she transferred to St. John’s Santa Fe campus for her sophomore year. After taking a year off, she embarked on junior year.
“That didn’t work out.”
Emily grew up in York, Pa. She started riding horses at 5, and was professionally grooming by the time she was 14. In and out of college, she has groomed horses in various places around Santa Fe.
The last place she was at, the horses were beautiful but the people were terrible. This, though, is not the case with Nord Stable. And that makes all the more sense when Karen, the owner, arrives. She brings a pair of jodhpurs (is that what they’re called?) for me…they’re amazingly comfortable, like yoga pants but with a lot more give, and a reinforced crash-pad type thing through the crotch.
She also brings her birthday apple pie…made, she vouchsafes, with real lard. I am more than happy to please her by taking way more than my share.
She’s always trying to make everyone fat, Emily tells me in an undertone whose depth matches her stormy grey eyes. I realize then that what I always took for shyness in both—her voice and her eyes—was in fact a keen observation and a dry sense of humor.
The things we miss, when we’re not looking closely.