The Probable Future
Page 65
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He won’t live long, the farmer had vowed. He’ll be dead sooner than you can turn around. I promise you. Just let him live out his last in that field of yours. He’ll eat grass and take care of himself if you just throw him a bale of hay when winter comes along. He’ll lay himself down and bury himself, too. I swear. You won’t have to do a thing for him.
When the old farmer died, Dr. Stewart went down to his worthless acreage. He’d realized he’d forgotten to ask if the horse had a name. If you’re going to die sooner or later, it had better be sooner, the doctor had said aloud as he stood by the fence, at which point the horse pricked up its ears. It was a cold January afternoon and the doctor had come directly from the farmer’s funeral. He rubbed his hands together and wondered what on earth he’d agreed to. He could count the horse’s ribs. He could see that it had mange. But when it came close, the horse’s breath was surprisingly sweet, like apples.
I’ve been assured this creature will be dead in no time, Brock Stewart told Matt Avery, who borrowed a trailer from the Harmon brothers, which he attached to his pickup on the day he delivered the horse to Unity. Doc Stewart had already paid Matt to fence in the field and build a lean-to, so the horse would have shelter when there was lightning and thunder.
Don’t count on it. Matt had grinned. Something tells me he’s sticking around.
So far, sixteen years had passed and the horse seemed unchanged, no older, no closer to death. The vet, Tim Early, had guessed that Sooner was thirty-five or more, from the wear on his teeth, but all the doctor knew was that over time he was out nearly ten thousand dollars, if he included the fencing, the barn, and the feed. As it turned out, Doc Stewart and Elinor Sparrow had the two oldest pets in town, although if anybody dared to call Sooner a pet, the doctor hit the roof. He’s an albatross. He’s a hay bag. He’s no pet. That’s what the doctor told anyone willing to listen. He’s the price I’m still paying for one idiotic moment of mercy.
“He should have called the horse Later.” Hap laughed. “Or Forever. Or maybe Ten Grand.”
Stella had a queasy feeling, bad timing because the pizza delivery van had pulled in and was heading along the driveway.
“Maybe your grandfather should have him put down.” Stella looked sideways to see Hap’s reaction. Right away, he got that furrow on his forehead that appeared whenever he was worried about something. “It would be an act of kindness, really, to put him out of his misery. He’s probably in pain with that back of his and all.”
“Sooner is as happy as can be. He spends his days eating and shitting and we do all the cleaning up.”
The delivery guy honked, and Hap went over to pay and collect their dinner. Exhaust drifted from the tailpipe of the idling van and the distance looked hazy and blue. From Stella’s vantage point on the porch, Sooner seemed like a horse in a dream. He moved slowly as he searched out the tender new grass. He disappeared behind the leaves of the hazel tree.
“Nobody rides him, do they?” Stella asked when they took the pizza inside.
“Stella, he’d collapse if they did. You’ve seen him. Mr. Swayback.”
“Well, promise me you won’t.”
“Why?” Hap had opened the lid of the pizza box and steam rose between them. A pie with everything in Unity meant sausage, peppers, and mushrooms.
“Because I have good ideas.” Stella hoped that she sounded more lighthearted than she was. “I’m known for them.”
Stella had taken some plates from the cabinet, but she wasn’t certain she could bring herself to eat.
“Really?” Hap grinned. “What about the onion?”
Stella couldn’t help but laugh. Cynthia Elliot had told her that her brother, Jimmy, had been telling people to stay away from Stella, announcing that she came from a long line of bad luck and twisted genetics. As if Jimmy Elliot knew anything about genetics. He had failed earth science twice and was now repeating the class. Plus, he was a liar. Cynthia had told Stella that the fingertip he always swore had been bitten by a snapping turtle had really been torn off by a lawn mower he didn’t know how to start properly. The girls all swooned over Jimmy for some reason, but he seemed intent in following Stella around, or at least watching across the cafeteria at lunchtime.
One afternoon, Cynthia and Stella had broken into Jimmy’s locker and they’d left a peeled onion stuck with a single pin atop his books, none of which appeared to have ever been opened. It was a joke, but Jimmy had gone around insisting that Stella had put a curse on him, and that she’d done so because she wanted him, badly. It was just a matter of time, Jimmy said, before Stella begged him to go out with her.
When the old farmer died, Dr. Stewart went down to his worthless acreage. He’d realized he’d forgotten to ask if the horse had a name. If you’re going to die sooner or later, it had better be sooner, the doctor had said aloud as he stood by the fence, at which point the horse pricked up its ears. It was a cold January afternoon and the doctor had come directly from the farmer’s funeral. He rubbed his hands together and wondered what on earth he’d agreed to. He could count the horse’s ribs. He could see that it had mange. But when it came close, the horse’s breath was surprisingly sweet, like apples.
I’ve been assured this creature will be dead in no time, Brock Stewart told Matt Avery, who borrowed a trailer from the Harmon brothers, which he attached to his pickup on the day he delivered the horse to Unity. Doc Stewart had already paid Matt to fence in the field and build a lean-to, so the horse would have shelter when there was lightning and thunder.
Don’t count on it. Matt had grinned. Something tells me he’s sticking around.
So far, sixteen years had passed and the horse seemed unchanged, no older, no closer to death. The vet, Tim Early, had guessed that Sooner was thirty-five or more, from the wear on his teeth, but all the doctor knew was that over time he was out nearly ten thousand dollars, if he included the fencing, the barn, and the feed. As it turned out, Doc Stewart and Elinor Sparrow had the two oldest pets in town, although if anybody dared to call Sooner a pet, the doctor hit the roof. He’s an albatross. He’s a hay bag. He’s no pet. That’s what the doctor told anyone willing to listen. He’s the price I’m still paying for one idiotic moment of mercy.
“He should have called the horse Later.” Hap laughed. “Or Forever. Or maybe Ten Grand.”
Stella had a queasy feeling, bad timing because the pizza delivery van had pulled in and was heading along the driveway.
“Maybe your grandfather should have him put down.” Stella looked sideways to see Hap’s reaction. Right away, he got that furrow on his forehead that appeared whenever he was worried about something. “It would be an act of kindness, really, to put him out of his misery. He’s probably in pain with that back of his and all.”
“Sooner is as happy as can be. He spends his days eating and shitting and we do all the cleaning up.”
The delivery guy honked, and Hap went over to pay and collect their dinner. Exhaust drifted from the tailpipe of the idling van and the distance looked hazy and blue. From Stella’s vantage point on the porch, Sooner seemed like a horse in a dream. He moved slowly as he searched out the tender new grass. He disappeared behind the leaves of the hazel tree.
“Nobody rides him, do they?” Stella asked when they took the pizza inside.
“Stella, he’d collapse if they did. You’ve seen him. Mr. Swayback.”
“Well, promise me you won’t.”
“Why?” Hap had opened the lid of the pizza box and steam rose between them. A pie with everything in Unity meant sausage, peppers, and mushrooms.
“Because I have good ideas.” Stella hoped that she sounded more lighthearted than she was. “I’m known for them.”
Stella had taken some plates from the cabinet, but she wasn’t certain she could bring herself to eat.
“Really?” Hap grinned. “What about the onion?”
Stella couldn’t help but laugh. Cynthia Elliot had told her that her brother, Jimmy, had been telling people to stay away from Stella, announcing that she came from a long line of bad luck and twisted genetics. As if Jimmy Elliot knew anything about genetics. He had failed earth science twice and was now repeating the class. Plus, he was a liar. Cynthia had told Stella that the fingertip he always swore had been bitten by a snapping turtle had really been torn off by a lawn mower he didn’t know how to start properly. The girls all swooned over Jimmy for some reason, but he seemed intent in following Stella around, or at least watching across the cafeteria at lunchtime.
One afternoon, Cynthia and Stella had broken into Jimmy’s locker and they’d left a peeled onion stuck with a single pin atop his books, none of which appeared to have ever been opened. It was a joke, but Jimmy had gone around insisting that Stella had put a curse on him, and that she’d done so because she wanted him, badly. It was just a matter of time, Jimmy said, before Stella begged him to go out with her.
