Page 33 of Just One Look
Jackson
“Hey, buddy. How ya doin’?”
Pip asks softly, like he’s talking to someone waking up from a coma and doesn’t want to startle them, as he steps into Clancy’s living room.
“I’m fine.”
My hand drifts across the coffee table, tapping until my fingers close around the remote control, and I turn the music off. The upside of no longer being able to watch stuff is discovering this thing called albums. Clancy swears they were all the rage last century.
The sofa cushions dip slightly as Pip positions himself by my feet.
“I’ve spoken with Clancy, so I highly doubt you’re fine. And I went to the sanctuary this morning and saw Maverick. Quite the coinkydink, but he doesn’t look fine either. You want to save me hassling you for the next twenty minutes until I get it out of you anyway and just tell me what the hell is going on?”
I drag the blanket up to my neck. Not sure if it’s because I’ve been a mess since my blowup with Maverick two days ago where he fired me, or if sweater weather season has more bite to it this year, but I am chilled to the bone.
“I’m a mess.”
“I figured.”
“I miss Maverick.”
“Figured that, too.”
“Want to read the email he sent?”
I’ve told Pip about it, but he hasn’t had the chance to read it for himself yet.
“Or rather, what I’m guessing his team of high-priced lawyers wrote. It’s on my phone.”
I sweep my arm toward the coffee table.
Pip picks the phone up and starts reading the email I’ve re-listened to a hundred times over. I’ve been parked on Clancy’s couch ever since Maverick fired me. It doesn’t make an ounce of difference that he walked it back via the world’s most official email a few hours later. I can’t go back to the sanctuary. Not with him there. Not with all the pain I’ve caused him. I could hear it in his voice, the soul-destroying sadness when I told him it was over between us.
I know he’d make adjustments to accommodate me. He’s already begun making the sanctuary more accessible and wheelchair-friendly. But it’s not about that. We can’t work together. I can’t be around him. It’ll only remind me what a gigantic prick I am. I’ve treated him badly for long enough already.
It’s better this way. He can move on and forget all about me. Short-term pain for long-term gain and all that. I just wish this short-term pain would fuck off already.
Pip finishes reading the email and says.
“The good news is you still have your job.”
“I don’t want my job,”
I grumble, shifting onto my side.
“What? Of course you do.”
“Pip. I can’t even see you. The only reason I can navigate around this house is because I’ve memorized the layout and the number of steps between spots. How could I possibly work with a wild horse?”
“But what about your session with Hope?”
“That only proves I can ride a horse that has been rehabbed, one that I know and trust and can control not to break out into a trot. That’s hardly head handler material.”
“But—”
“I can’t read their body language. I can’t inspect them for wounds or injuries. I can’t fit a halter or place a fly mask over their ears.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic.”
“Bullshit. I’ve never heard you talk about quitting working with horses. With Maverick, sure, you went to great lengths to point out that wouldn’t be a forever thing. In my mind, that’s still delulu, but whatever, you did say it multiple times. How can you give up on horses, though? They’re your biggest passion in life.”
“What choice do I have?”
I cry, hitching the blanket all the way to my chin.
“I have to accept I’m going to lose everything. My vision. My cabin. My job. My…my…”
A choked sob bursts from my throat.
“Maverick.”
I hide my tears under the blanket, hating who I’m turning into. I’m not a quitter. No matter how many setbacks I’ve endured, I’ve always kept going, kept pushing, kept fighting.
But too much is happening all at once. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not strong enough to deal with my changing reality and losing Maverick at the same time.
Pip rubs my leg through the blanket.
“Is there anything I can do?”
I sniff, wiping my nose on the corner of the blanket like the gross pig I’ve become.
“Stay with me and change the topic to something else?”
“Sure, I can do that. Just like I can pretend you didn’t just wipe your nose on the blanket.”
“I know. I’m disgusting. I’m sorry.”
“Have you showered in the last forty-eight hours?”
“I have. Why? Do I stink?”
I sniff my underarm.
He lets out that deep, rumbling chuckle of his.
“You don’t. I was just checking.”
“Good. There is something I want to know. About you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. What the fuck have you been doing lately?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that. You were MIA for most of the summer. I know you were doing extra course units or whatever, but you’re up to something.”
There’s a long pause. Then.
“Ugh, fine. I’m planning something for the talent show Maverick is organizing. It’s a surprise, though.”
“You have a secret talent?”
“I do.”
“Can I guess?”
“You can try, but you’ll never get it.”
“Does it involve inserting something into one of your orifices?”
He lets out a booming laugh.
“How did you know?”
“Seriously?”
“No!”
He smacks my shin lightly.
“You’ll never figure it out. It’s incredibly random, but it’s something I used to do before…”
“Roland?”
“Yeah.”
He sighs.
“I had a whole different life before I got involved with him.”
Pip doesn’t like talking about his relationship with Roland and rarely mentions his life prior to that as well. I know he spent his childhood moving from one foster home to another and that as soon as he hit legal age, he took off for New York. But he’s kept pretty much everything else under wraps.
“How’s Clancy doing?”
Pip asks, eager to change the subject, no doubt.
“He’s great. I’m the one who feels terrible about being such an imposition.”
“You’re not. He loves you, and I’m sure he enjoys the company. I get the feeling he’s lonely sometimes. Did he ever date anyone after your grandmother died?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no. I always figured Grandma was his great love, and I think for many people in that generation, they were one and done. If something happened to their one, that was it. No more love.”
“That’s kind of sad, kind of romantic.”
“I know. Plus, he ended up getting stuck raising his grandkids, so I imagine that didn’t leave a lot of spare time for dating.”
“That’s more sad and less romantic. Where is he now?”
“He went to the grocery store.”
“Cool. Want to keep listening to music?”
“Sure.”
“In that case, slide over and make room, you couch hog.”
I grin, shuffling over as Pip slips in under the blanket with me. We spend the next few hours talking nonstop with Billie Eilish on repeat in the background. And for the first time in two days, I manage to forget that I’ve pushed Maverick out of my life.