Page 39 of Colt
My stepdad… He’s always been proud of me. Of what I accomplished in the rodeo. It’s gone a long way in healing some of the shit with my dad. What if I can’t do anything anymore?
This is depressing.
I grab my black cowboy hat and put it on my head. Then I take hold of my crutches and walk out of the room.
Allison is sitting in that same chair she was in the other night. She’s dressed in a white summer dress today. It’s so strange, because I was a scant inch from her mouth, and I didn’t notice what she was wearing, maybe because I was still dizzy from fainting. Fainting.
Damn.
Or maybe it’s because I was dizzy from the violets.
“Ready?”
“You know,” I say. “It’s not my driving leg. I could probably drive.”
“Yeah. The man who lost consciousness a few hours ago should drive.”
“I’m fine now.”
“Yeah. You’re totally fine. You’re doing great.”
“Nobody asked for sarcasm, Allison.”
“But you’re gonna get it.”
“I’m driving.”
The thing is, she’s not wrong, and I know that. I just don’t want her to be right. But I get into the passenger seat of her car, which is in my driveway. When we get in, I realize I didn’t ask her about her test.
“How did things go today?”
“Oh. Good. I mean, I don’t know yet if I passed, but I’ve been doing okay with all of it.”
“You want to be a nurse because of your mom, don’t you?”
I knew her mom. I remember her, just vaguely. Often, she didn’t feel very well when I would come over and hang out with Gentry. But she was nice, even while she was going through her treatments. She would have good days sometimes, and then she would make us snacks. She wore different wigs all the time, because she used to say that everyone knew her hair was gone anyway, so she wasn’t trying to fool anyone, but she also didn’t like going out bald either.
“Yeah,” she says. She starts the car and pulls it out of the driveway. I guess I haven’t earned any elaboration today. Fair enough. I wasn’t my best self. I’m not my best self. Do I have a best self?
I’m usually a winner. Then I find my true North from that position. I figure out where I’m headed, what I want, and what other people think of me based on that. Now that I don’t have it, I just kind of feel like a jackass.
It makes me question what I’ve ever done for anyone. Other than impress them. And what is that? What is it really? And what does it matter?
Nothing. Not a god damn thing.
Our parents’ place is out of town, nestled near the base of the mountains. They’ve got a great spread. My stepdad’s ranch is smaller than some around the area. There are some huge spreads in Gold Valley, including Dallas’s family ranch, Get Out of Dodge.
He has certified organic grass-fed beef. He does good business selling to restaurants as far north as Seattle. There’s a slightly different pace to this ranch than to a large operation, and I like it. Once he retires, I’d like to take over the family business. On my own property, of course. Of course, he’s only just now fifty, so it’ll be a while before he retires, but ideally, it’ll be a while before I settle down after the rodeo.
Suddenly, the timeline all feels like a blur. And the future that I’ve always imagined for myself isn’t stretching out in front of me like a wide flat road.
It’s blank.
We don’t talk for the entire car ride. But I’m pretty satisfied that we don’t look like we want to tear each other apart. Or tear each other’s clothes off.
I grit my teeth. That’s a dumb thing to think about. It’s a really dumb thing to think about.
Yes. She’s beautiful. I noticed that a long time ago. But I don’t need to let it fill me up now just because there’s a void inside of me where the rodeo should be.
