13. Lola

The sun filtered through the window, throwing yellow light across the room. As Lola opened her eyes, she could see little particles floating aimlessly through the light. She blinked quickly a couple of times as the rest of the bedroom came into clearer focus. She rolled her head to the side and felt that pang once again. The other side of the bed was empty. Vacant. Cold. She closed her eyes again and reached her hand over to the other side of the bed. She took a deep breath and let it out. At least morning smelled the same. How does one bridge a gap like this? She wanted to go back to sleep, but the sun was creeping underneath her eyelids, begging her to get up. It was a blinding light, even through her skin.
Lola went about her morning rituals of bathing, dressing, and coffee with painstaking attention. These tasks had recently become more important than ever, and more difficult to carry out than ever as well. She missed George. She missed the mornings they used to have, where he would wait for her to wake up by laying on his side and staring at her. She would open her eyes and look up at him, and he would kiss her forehead before making breakfast for them both. He always had time for her then. Now it seemed they only had time to argue. But she still loved him, as much now as ever.
Once she finished, she walked slowly out to the barn. The weight of the house left her as she stepped out into the sun. She stood briefly to let the warmth of spring seep into her skin. Lola continued into the dark must of the barn and waited for her eyes to adjust. She could just make out the glint of Vic’s black eyes against the dark fur of his head. His ears pricked up towards her, and he took a curious step in her direction. Lola’s heart lifted under his attention, and she reached out to him with a handful of oats. He blew into her hand, then picked the treat up greedily with his floppy lips. They made a funny sound when they slapped together that made her smile. The velvet of his nose gave way to the wetness of his tongue as he licked the remainder of the oats from her hand, along with the salty sweat underneath.
Lola took great care with Vic, brushing him, saddling and bridling him. She felt she could talk to him, even though she knew he didn’t understand. His ears constantly swiveled as she walked around him, tracking her movements, if not her words.
It made her feel silly, but she didn’t have anywhere else to turn; no one who would accept her attention. Vic was her only outlet. She led him out of the barn, and he followed closely behind her, with his head nearly touching the flat of her back. She led him to the end of the gravel driveway, then mounted. It felt good to be in the saddle again, to feel his energy underneath her. He turned down the road and engaged in his swinging walk that she loved so much. It was a smooth rocking motion that was almost hypnotic, and the sun heated her through her clothes, forming beads of sweat in the usual places. Lola released the reins and allowed Vic to walk as freely as he wished. Feeling the weight of the leather on his neck, he stalled for a moment, then continued in his gait. She pressed her calves against his side, and he swung into a lazy trot. Lola let him go for a few minutes, then pulled him back to a walk.
She turned in the saddle and looked back towards the house. She thought of George. She wished he could be here, alongside her. She wished she could make him understand. Their great dream of the house and the kids and the perfect life was gone, and she felt as though it were her fault. She wanted to explain things to him, and she didn’t know how. She wanted to explain why she had bought the horse, what it could do for her. She wanted him to look at her like he used to. She wanted him to look inside her like he used to.
She turned Vic back in the direction they had come. His walk had slowed, mirroring her pensive mood. She would try to talk to George tonight; try to make him understand.