L’ Equestrienne
A bride wins a Grand Prix riding the horse her new husband gave her. But everything is not as perfect as it appears….
Photo source: Pinterest. Unknown photographer.
The brave mare cleared the Liverpool with ease. She took a daring inside turn to a high vertical – the most difficult fence of the jump-off. Three strides, two strides, one stride – Esperanza rocked back, nearly standing straight up on her hind legs and propelled herself over the 1.60m planks. They flew across the finish line. Taylor jerked her head to look at the leader board and smiled, punching the air. She and Esperanza were first. They had won the Saut Hermes Grand Prix in Paris.
Sarah, their groom, met them at the outgate. Sarah gave Esperanza a hearty congratulatory pat on her chestnut flank which sent the mare into a jigging, stationary trot. As Sarah struggled to attach a lead rope to the bridle, Rafael strode up, Taylor’s delight mirrored in his face. He pulled Taylor off the mare, kissing her deeply. She felt light-headed in his arms.
“You did it baby,” he growled in her ear.
Someone was calling her. “Miss Morales?” the woman was saying in French-accented English. Rafael shoved her in the back, pushing her over to the woman holding a microphone. Taylor had never been interviewed on TV before. Stumbling over her words a little, Taylor explained her strategy for the jump-off.
“Tell me about this horse,” the reporter asked. “Who is the owner?”
“She is mine,” Taylor beamed.
“Lucky you!” the reporter smiled. “I can’t wait to see what else the two of you accomplish.”
Taylor was hustled back to Esperanza, who looked like a queen in the Hermes orange winner’s cooler. Taylor’s heart swelled with love. She gave Esperanza a kiss on her velveteen muzzle, and then let Sarah leg her up into the saddle. They rode back into the ring for the ribbons presentation, Taylor numbly accepting a magnum of champagne.
She chugged a little straight from the bottle. The bubbles flowed coolly down her throat, flooding her insides with a tingling sensation, bringing her back into her body, into the present moment. She felt a joy bursting out of her chest, her face; she wanted to feel like this forever, to live in this moment always. She took a mental snapshot – the cheering crowds, the cameras, and her beautiful Esperanza, who had made it all possible.
Once the presentation was finished, Sarah took Esperanza back to the stables for a shower. Taylor wanted to go with her, but Rafael pressed her to change out of her riding clothes and come to a party his friend was hosting. “It’ll be cool,” he promised. “You should see this place.”
Rafael whisked Taylor into a cab with a few other riders he had befriended over the course of the show. Feeling a little shy, Taylor stared out the window at the darkening sky as the taxi propelled them through the city streets. They halted outside a grand townhome, and followed the group inside.
Rafael helped Taylor hang up her coat and then disappeared, mumbling about finding the bathroom. Taylor accepted a glass of champagne from a chic stranger – do they drink anything else? She wondered idly – and took a seat on a purple, architectural-looking sofa. It was so low to the floor she couldn’t truly sit but had to lounge backwards with her feet up, awkwardly holding her glass of champagne, worrying about spilling on the velvet upholstery.
Everyone around her was speaking in rapid-fire French – she knew a little, but not enough to carry on a conversation of any length or depth. She gazed around the townhouse. She liked the herringbone floors, soaring ceilings and vast windows. A few people swayed loosely next to the DJ spinning French electronica, but it was still early in the night, and the party had yet to reach full swing.
Taylor felt alone. Rafael was nowhere to be seen. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be at the barn, with Esperanza, to truly soak in the moment. Where was he?
“Excuse me, have you seen Rafael?” she asked the group sitting around her. They shook their heads, a chorus of “nons.” A gorgeous woman looked at Taylor with pity in her doe-like eyes.
“Men,” she said in a ravishing Parisian accent, each word rich and seductive. “You can win the big grand prix and still they be chasing the skirts, non?” The girl asked, arching an eyebrow.
Taylor shook her head. That wasn’t what was happening. She pulled out her phone, texted him, called…no answer. She wandered through the vast space. She considered hunting for him, and then realized she didn’t want to. He had left her, after all.
She opened a door and discovered a bathroom that appeared to be forged completely out of green marble. The walls, floor, sink and toilet were all the same, impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. Taylor sat on the toilet seat – heated, how lovely – and scrolled through her phone. Her email was full of congratulatory messages, links to articles written about her win. Her eyes lingered on one of them.
The captivating Taylor Morales is a true citizen of the world. This half-Asian beauty from Vancouver recently married Rafael Morales, Mexican philanthropist and fellow show jumper. She splits her time between Calgary and Wellington. Who wouldn’t want her life?
Taylor felt her stomach contract as she read it. She was the luckiest girl in the world - wasn’t she?
This was absolutely ridiculous. She needed to get out of this place. She decided to order an Uber – she didn’t know where she was, but her phone did. The lights were dimmer, the party more raucous, and nobody noticed her taking her coat from the closet, slipping out.
She arrived at the temporary stable grounds, which had been erected next to the base of the Eiffel Tower. She showed her identification tag to the security guard stationed at the entrance to the stables, and walked down the dark aisle until she entered Esperanza’s stall. The mare nickered, nudging her pockets gently with her soft nose, breathing sweet hay-smelling breath. Taylor swung her arms around Esperanza’s neck and, like a little girl, let her face rest against her silky mane.
She breathed, feeling the solidity of the mare’s body against her own. The mare stood unmoving, giving Taylor what she needed, as she always did. Taylor felt the tears move up from her body and pour out her eyes, let them come, surrendered to their presence, allowing them to be everything that she felt – the nagging sadness over her husband, coupled with exhaustion, overwhelm, as well as a powerful pride, an acknowledgment of the intensity of the moment.
I did it, she thought. “I did it,” she dared to whisper out loud, but not too loud. She didn’t want to anger the gods, or whoever had bestowed this success upon her, with a show of hubris. For the first time, Esperanza shifted her feet, a hoof almost coming down on top of Taylor’s boot.
Good ol Esperanza. Taylor chuckled out loud, her chest and throat suddenly freer. “We did it, girl,” Taylor corrected, speaking louder now, stronger. “We did it.”