Chapter 11

Monday was the big day for Kim. Me too, but Kim really wanted to ride on the beach. We started before eight since it was almost two hours to Rincon on the west coast of Puerto Rico. On the way, Kim reminded me about techniques for riding bareback and talked about what I might expect from a different horse. I knew there were differences between horses because I’d ridden Ghost and Ajax. I guess I hadn’t thought much about any other kind of differences. Mom and Veronica were quietly paying attention. Kim was still teaching when we pulled up the driveway to Playa Rincon Stables.

We were barely out of the car when our host greeted us. Her name was Amaya. She was about twenty-five and her English was outstanding. She asked about our levels of proficiency.

“Novice, novice, umm, intermediate and advanced,” Kim said. I guess I was an intermediate rider but the pause said, ‘just barely.” Fine.

“Wet or dry?” Amaya asked.

“I think they will do best dry. Jack and I want to get wet.”

“Then you have some bareback experience? Let’s get your horses.”

If I thought Kim knew her way around horses, Amaya really did. She helped us groom our horses and had us ready to ride in no time. She had given Mom and Veronica western saddles while Kim and I had small pads. We walked our horses out of the barn and onto the trail that led to the beach.

“If you can mount without assistance, I would like to see that,” she said, obviously meaning me.

I set my shoes aside, then did a bit of a bounce and jumped up, laying across my horse, then pivoted into position. Kim did about the same but with a lot more grace. Mom and Veronica had stirrups so it was easy for them.

“I’ll be with you on the ATC in case you get in trouble. Please keep it to walk, trot until I tell you,” she said. Seemed like there was a test.

“What is my horse’s name?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, of course. Your horse is Bala. He has a soft mouth and is very good with verbal commands,” she said. “Your horse is Ladybug,” she said to Kim.

“Habla español o ingles?” I said, asking if he spoke Spanish or English.

“El escucha en ingles,” she said, laughing. Apparently, Bala only listened in English. I had been hoping for a talking horse. Mom was on Magic, Veronica was on Bella, and Kim was on Ladybug. I couldn’t remember what Bala meant in English. I had to ask.

“Como se dice Bala en Ingles?” I asked.

“Bala es Bullet,” she answered with a smile.

“Fast?”

“Fast if you want him to be. Maybe not as fast as Ladybug, but fast. Remember, walk, trot until I say you can do more.”

I talked to Bala in English, patted his neck, and tried to get settled. I knew Kim would want to ride faster than a trot and it would take all my skill and then some, to keep up with her. The trail emptied onto the beach and we walked our horses down to the water’s edge. They seemed comfortable with it. It was probably eighty degrees, with a little onshore breeze to keep us cool. The beach was nearly deserted for a couple of miles. There were plenty of seagulls and sandpipers. The waves were even smaller than back at Condado Beach. It was an absolutely perfect day for riding on the beach. Kim smiled so broadly that I thought her face might break.

There is nothing so fine as watching Kim smile. Nothing.

“Why don’t you stay at a walk while I trot Ladybug and see what she’s like?” Kim said. I nodded and she asked Ladybug for a trot and they took off down the beach. She came back smiling a minute later. “She’s got a really comfortable gait. If Bala is as smooth, this will be really nice.”

We both picked up a trot. Bala definitely seemed ready for more but the slightest pull on the reins kept his speed down. As soon as I gave him a nudge, he’d be off to the races. I just knew it. I tried to get more comfortable. I reminded myself of the big tips for riding bareback. Tighten up my stomach, squeeze with my upper legs rather than lower, and don’t get behind. I’d squeezed with my lower legs once when riding Ghost and all that did was make him speed up.

Kim was in heaven. I heard her humming a David Bowie song. She rarely sang or hummed. When she got to the right spot in the song, she said, “Let’s trot,” to the tune of Let’s Dance. We did. Bala was happy to be moving faster, even if it was only a trot. I patted Bala’s neck to let him know I was happy too, and remind him we were a team.

Amaya pulled even with us on the ATC. “There’s a blue house about three miles up the beach. Don’t go past that. If you’re as comfortable on the horse as it seems, you can canter. Lope. Canter but don’t let them go too fast. When you go in the water, do it at a walk. They can trot but only in shallow water. Did I say all that right?”

“Perfect. Are they doing okay?” I asked, nodding my head back toward Mom and Veronica.

“Like a pony ride. I’ll watch them,” she said and turned the ATC back toward them.

“Ready to go, cowboy?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Then, let’s pick up a canter. I love this,” she said and we asked for a canter. Bala was more than happy to do that. He had an amazing gait. His stride was long and smooth and he was really comfortable to ride, with or without a saddle. I thought he might have been a little more responsive than Ghost but he was probably ridden every day. I stayed on Kim’s left, slightly higher on the beach and a little behind.

A horse like Bala would canter at about fifteen miles per hour which doesn’t seem very fast. But when your head is about eight feet off the ground, your horse is running at this unusual three beat gait, you don’t have the benefit of a saddle, and especially miss having stirrups, it’s a bit challenging. I didn’t want to grab Bala’s mane for balance although I knew I could if I needed to. Somehow it seemed wrong to do that. Slowly, I was able to loosen up a little and get my eyes off what was right in front of me. Kim was right at the water’s edge, and Ladybug was happily kicking up spray as she ran.

I changed my perspective. Kim was in heaven and she was sharing it with me. I started talking to Bala again, and we managed to ease forward until we were neck and neck with Kim and Ladybug. Kim smiled at me and her dimples set my world on fire. I loved to see them because I knew just how happy she was. Our horses practically synced their pace and the sound of their hooves on the sand was sort of primal.

The distance to the blue house was about the same as the length of Condado Beach. When I was parasailing, the time couldn’t go by fast enough. Riding on the beach with Kim, I wanted time to slow down. I wanted this to last forever. She was totally in her element and she was sharing that with me. All the hours I’d spent riding Ghost had been preparation for this ride. When Kim looked over at me the next time, I know my smile was as big as hers. Absolute heaven.

I could see the blue house ahead and hollered to Kim. She saw it, too. When we reached the blue house, Kim said, “Let’s slow down and let them cool off in the ocean a bit.”

It had been a lot easier to speed up. I told Bala to trot and pulled gently on the reins and he slowed to an easy trot, then a walk. Kim turned Ladybug toward the water and walked her out to mid-calf depth. I followed. Bala shimmied under me when he got wet and his tail flicked water around. It was pretty funny. We started walking back toward the stable.

“How are you doing, Aquaman?”

“This is really great. It’s pretty challenging, but man, is it worth it. It seems like we’re going so fast.”

“It does seem like it. It’s a lot different than being in the arena or on a trail with trees all around. I’m happy.”

“Mom and Veronica are way back there,” I said.

“I hope they’re having fun. Let’s get into shallower water and trot. When we get back to them, we’ll walk so our horses can cool down.”

“Kim,” I said and she turned to me. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For introducing me to a whole new world. This is awesome and I never would have known.”

“You’re sweet. I’m pretty happy. I could do this every day.” Me too.

Having ridden a couple of miles at a canter, a trot seemed genuinely peaceful. I relaxed and enjoyed the ride back even more. I was sure Kim enjoyed it a lot, but not as much as the canter. If we could have cantered around the island, she would have loved it. As we got closer to them, I saw Amaya watching from a distance.

“Why do you think Amaya is on a three-wheeler instead of a horse?” I asked.

“She’s got a first aid kit, radio, and shovel with her, and she wouldn’t have to tie up the ATC if she needed to help.”

“Makes sense. Shovel?”

“In case Bala decided to litter the beach. Ladybug would never do that, would you girl?” she said, patting Ladybug’s neck. I was pretty sure Ladybug would have no reservations about pooping on the beach.

“Show-offs,” Mom said when we got close.

“The beach is open. Show us how,” I hollered back, knowing Mom was happy to walk.

“We’re enjoying a peaceful walk on the beach, thank you, very much.”

With just a little coaching, they turned their horses and we walked back to the barn together. When we got back, Kim and I hosed our horses down to get the salt water off, then squeegeed them dry. We were walking through the stable with Amaya when we came to two horses we hadn’t seen before.

“Thoroughbreds?” Kim asked.

“Yes. Both, almost two. This is Antony and Cleopatra.”

“They’re beautiful.” They were both jet-black with healthy, shiny coats. Their muscular athletic bodies were really impressive.

“Thank you.”

“I bet they can move,” I said. They both looked fast.

“They are both very fast. We’ve not ridden them yet, but I’ve ridden Bala with them at speed.”

“Why haven’t you ridden them yet?” I asked. “I don’t get it.”

“They aren’t old enough. Their bones need to, how do you say it? Close. Their bones must stop growing first. The vet will tell us. Soon, we hope.”

“So much to learn,” I said to Kim and she smiled.

“We have many friends that race. We might. We aren’t sure yet.”

“Race, like Kentucky Derby kind of racing?” I asked.

“Yes. There is the Hipódromo Camarero.”

“You wouldn’t ride, though, would you?” Kim asked.

“No. We know a few jockeys and one of them is very interested. We’ll see.”

We thanked her for being our guide and got back in the car for the ride home. Mom had already paid. We were quiet for a while before Veronica spoke. I think it was the first thing she’d said all morning.

“That was nice. I can definitely see the appeal.”

“Kim would do that every day for the rest of her life if she could, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Mom asked.

“Pretty much.”

“What about you, Jack?” she asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun,” I said and Kim squeezed closer to me.

We talked about the horses and the location. We talked about how much fun it was to have such freedom riding. The only trail was a wide beach. Veronica asked and we told her about getting our horses wet and how they seemed to enjoy it too. Kim said that she already wanted to go back. I knew that riding on the beach was something we’d have to do when we got home.

“Would Sandy let us take Ghost to Kiawah or Edisto Beach?” I asked.

“Yes. I know she would. Oh, I can’t wait to get Diva on the beach. She’ll love it, especially with Ghost.”

That, obviously went to the top of my plate for things to do back before hunting season. Hunting season. I don’t know why I thought of that. I was going to learn how and Kim was going to teach me.

“When does hunting season start?” I asked.

“It’s sometime in the fall, isn’t it?” Mom asked.

“October ninth,” Kim said. “Sunrise.”

“I’ll bet you already know where we’re going to go,” I said.

“I do. Dad is a member of a hunt club that owns three hundred acres in Colleton County. I think there’s six of them. Members. They can bring family and friends. Good people. I think they’re all attorneys and I’ve met all but one. We’ll go out to the lodge the night before and get an early start.”

“There’s a lodge? Six guys own three hundred acres and a lodge?” That sounded crazy.

“It’s not that big of a deal. First, it’s in Colleton or Bamberg County and land, especially away from Walterboro is cheap. Really cheap. And second, the lodge is more like a shack. It’s got water, electricity, and bunk beds. I think maybe eight or ten people could stay there, so if you’re thinking of something fancy, you need to save that for your dreams. This is a bring your own toilet paper kind of place. Someone called it The Lodge, years ago as a joke and it stuck.”

“That’s pretty funny,” Mom said. “Ronnie was always talking about going hunting but he never did. He used to. He said he would teach Jack when he was old enough, but I think he forgot.”

That was the first I’d heard of it. At least it was on his mind. There was probably no phone at The Lodge and that would have been a non-starter for Ronnie. It was past time for lunch so Veronica pulled into a diner on Highway Two. If you didn’t speak Spanish, you were in trouble. It’s the first time we’d run into that. Everywhere else, someone spoke English. I ordered. Veronica ordered. We looked at Mom and Kim.

“Well? What are you two having?” Veronica asked. Mom was stumped.

Kim looked at the waitress, pointed at me, and said, “Y para mi,” and whatever I had ordered, she had just ordered, too. Mom nodded. Veronica laughed. The waitress left and Mom asked, “What did I just order?”

The whole situation was funny to me. It was funny to Veronica. Kim took it in stride.

“I ordered a Mofongo bowl with shrimp creole, sweet plantains, and a virgin mango fizz.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted,” Kim said.

“Me too,” Mom added and Veronica kept laughing.

I was glad they enjoyed their meal as much as I did. We finished and got back on the road, arriving back at the hotel late in the afternoon. We talked about our plans for the next day or two and decided we’d lounge around on Wednesday and go back to Old San Juan on Thursday. All three of them wanted to go shopping before we went home on Friday.

Kim and I found the hot tub and enjoyed that for the rest of the afternoon. We turned on the jets and sank down into the water. We definitely needed one of these, I thought. I moved around, letting the jets work on my back. After twenty minutes, I hopped up and sat on the edge to cool off. We both did that a couple of times. I’d never done that before and when we got out, I felt weak. The hot tub had really sapped my strength almost like a full day at the beach. It felt good and I was relaxed but all I wanted to do was take a nap.

I had a light dinner at the café with Kim, we explored the hotel and discovered they had little shops, a beauty parlor, and a display rack with brochures from all kinds of places. We grabbed a batch of them and went back to my room. A lot of them looked like tourist traps, and a bunch of them were for tours. We knew we were going back to Old San Juan on Thursday so we looked for what we might have missed.

An hour later, Mom came to the door with Veronica in tow. “What are you two up to?” she asked, looking at the table with a spread of brochures. There was a pile with all of the brochures except one.

“We want to go to Ponce. It’s the most Puerto Rican city in all of Puerto Rico. It says so, right here,” I said, pointing to the brochure.

“What’s there?”

“Well, for one thing, it has the Parque de Bombas, the bomb park.”

Veronica started laughing. When she caught her breath, she said, “It means The Pump House.” She looked at the brochure. “It’s a fire station.”

“Well, that’s a disappointment. I really wanted to go to the bomb park. What about Plaza de las Delicias? Tell me that’s not a good thing,” I said.

“Delight Square. I like the sound of that. What else do they have?” Veronica asked.

I showed them the brochure and what interested us. We decided to go there on Wednesday and Old San Juan on Thursday. Tuesday would be a day off. I told them my plan for the morning. I watched Mom thinking about it.

“You need a lifeguard. That’s too far to go without one,” she said.

“I’ll walk on the beach. If he can swim five miles, I can certainly walk it,” Kim said.

“Dang, Aquaman. Five miles? Are you sure?” Veronica asked.

“I’ve never done it before. I’ve swum two. This will be a lot different though. First, it won’t be exact. I measured it on the map and I know where I have to go to before I turn around. Also, it’s salt water, so I’ll float higher in the water, making breathing easier. But the chop will make it harder. Plus, there won’t be any walls to push off of, and no black line on the bottom of the ocean to follow. I’m pretty sure I can do it, but if I get too tired, Kim will rescue me.”

“If you get too tired, swim to shore and walk back,” Mom said.

“If Kim doesn’t rescue me, she won’t get to do CPR on me,” I complained.

“I’m pretty sure you both get enough CPR practice without drowning. Okay, as long as you walk the beach and monitor him. I want to know when you get back.”

I looked at Veronica, “See, Mom doesn’t think I’m crazy.”

“Mom knows you’re crazy already,” Mom said. “This just proves it. Be safe. That’s all.”

Kim and I talked about it a bit more and I hit the sack. I was tired and needed the rest if I was going to set a personal long-distance swim record the next day.

Tuesday morning, I was up early and felt pretty good, all things considered. I had an early breakfast and did some stretching. I’d picked up a Gatorade the day before and pulled it out of the mini-fridge. I knocked on Kim’s door and we walked down together. As long as she was going to follow my progress, walking along the beach, I asked her to bring the Gatorade. I had a hunch it would be easy to get dehydrated on a swim that would take nearly two hours. If I needed it, I’d raise a hand high, then swim to shallower water to get a drink. I remembered the line from Coleridge’s poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, “Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink.”

She gave me a kiss and I waded out. I wasn’t concerned about my time. I just wanted to see if I could do the distance. The idea came to me when I watched Coach doing seemingly endless laps. I knew he’d done over two miles that first day. I spotted Kim on shore, waved to her, and started. From the very beginning it seemed strange. I had no platform to dive from and no wall for a push off.

For the first half mile or so, I just focused on my technique and getting into a rhythm. There was very little chop, the water temperature was just about perfect, and there weren’t any obstacles in front of me. I’d swum about a mile when my mind really started to wander. At first, I thought about swimming and competition for the coming year. I considered whether or not to try the individual medley and decided there was really no reason not to. If I did well, I’d have to have one of the two best times on the team and compete. If I didn’t, I’d still have another year and could keep trying. I’d be a Renaissance Man of swimming.

Then, my mind wandered off in a completely different direction. Vince had said, Kim took away cortisol and gave me dopamine. Was that it? Was I really just chasing dopamine? Could I get the same from someone else? Would there be a time in my life when she wouldn’t excite me? Would there be a time when I’d go searching for dopamine somewhere else? Mom had said love was a decision. If that was it, loving Kim was an easy decision. Would anything change that? What could she do to make it difficult to decide to love her? I didn’t like it when she was angry with me, although that happened rarely. Would I ever do something to cause that anger to linger?

I thought about Sally. Could I choose not to love her? I knew that I still did but it had changed. What would happen if I took a bus or flew to Nashville and asked her to marry me instead of Kim? That was a weird thought. Would I be just as happy? Would she even say ‘yes’? Why would that even pop up in my head? What about kids? We hadn’t talked about it that much. I’d joked that I wanted a bunch of them but did I really? Do kids give you dopamine? They probably give you cortisol and that wasn’t good. If kids gave you cortisol because you worried or were anxious, why would anyone have a second kid? What if we couldn’t have kids? What if Kim decided she wanted a bunch of kids and I was shooting blanks or something?

I saw Kim ahead of me on the beach with her hand raised. When I got even with her, I’d be at the turnaround point. I angled in to get a drink and turn around. I saw her wading out.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked.

“Fine. No problems at all. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow.” I took a couple of swallows, making sure not to gulp and get air into me. “I generally breathe to my right and you and the beach will be on my left for the swim back and that will be a bit of a pain. Bilateral breathing every now and then. Thanks,” I said, handing back the Gatorade and swimming back to deeper water.

There was nothing to focus on to my right. Just open water as far as I could see. I decided to swim eight or ten strokes then take two breaths to the left to check my position and correct if I needed to. After a couple of cycles of that, I decided I needed to work more on bilateral breathing but I wouldn’t do too much of it during a long swim. I didn’t need that to tire me out. It worked fine to check every now and then.

Everybody said I was decisive. I knew that was true but that’s just who I was. Those same people didn’t give Kim enough credit for being just as decisive. I thought about how she’d changed in the last eight months. She’d gone from worrying about what everyone else thought about her to being a real leader on the cheerleading team. I thought she’d gained some confidence. Maybe a lot of confidence, and that was good. If anyone should be confident, it was Kim. She’d taught me a lot, from sailing to horseback riding. She seemed more mature than Sally. Neither of us were talented musically. Did either of us have any creative ability? I couldn’t sing, and I couldn’t even draw a circle. Maybe I could. I used to hate Spanish but I’d learned enough to have fun with it. I’d still screw up, like thinking Parque de Bomba meant bomb park instead of pump house. Did I have some sort of artistic talent I didn’t know about? Did Kim? Why did I keep arcing out away from shore? What other artistic talent might I be missing?

Sally sang and played piano because she enjoyed it. Did she always enjoy it or did her parents make her take lessons and then she just got good at it? Was it like me and Spanish, that she didn’t like it until she got good at it? What other ways could I express artistic ability? Could I become a photographer? That didn’t seem as hard as learning to play the piano. Could I be a writer? Maybe, but probably not the kind that comes up with stories. I knew I could write analysis. Could I have ever written Hills Like White Elephants? No. Nobody but Hemingway could have written that. If I wrote a story, what kind would it be? Probably something like Flannery O’Connor’s stories. She had an amazing, cutting wit. No, probably not like her, either.

I took a dozen breaths to my left, trying to gauge my progress. I wished I’d been paying attention to landmarks more when I’d been swimming the other direction. I stopped swimming for a minute and stared ahead at the beach. It looked like our hotel, maybe a half mile ahead. Good. I started off again. That brief stop had been a mistake. Until I’d stopped, I hadn’t realized how tired I was. Crap. I tried to send my mind off on another distracting journey but all I could think of was how far five miles was and that I was an idiot. Keep plugging. Keep plugging away. Almost there. I needed a cheerleader. I had a cheerleader and she’d be waiting on the beach for me. That did it. My mind took off again.

How could I make Kim happiest? What could I do that would bring her joy? Would it become more difficult as time went by? I hoped not. What would she be like with kids? What would she be like with our kids? How could Vince leave Lani behind? What was he thinking? How could anyone look that good? Kim looked that good. Kim looked better, but Lani and Lori both had bodies to die for. Did Kim think that way about some other guy? Did she ever think she wished I had Bobby’s caustic wit or Vince’s good looks? She’d never said that.

I took a breath to the left and saw Kim wading out. I hadn’t motioned for a drink but I’d take one. I angled toward her.

“You’re done,” I heard. “You finished a block ago, you dufus. Come on in, unless you want to swim another five miles.”

Nope. Five was enough. I swam toward her until it was shallow enough to stand. She handed me the Gatorade and we walked in as I sipped. I shook my arms, then swung them back and forth to loosen them up.

“You did good, Baby. That’s a long way. Didn’t you get bored? What did you think about the whole time?”

“You, Baby. I thought about you,” I said with my most lecherous smile.

“Stop it. You look goofy.” So much for a lecherous smile.

“What did you think about?” I asked.

“I thought about all kinds of things. First, it’s weird to walk at the same speed as you swim and realize how fast you are. But then, I thought about all kinds of things.”

We walked up to the pool and I rinsed off at the shower and grabbed a towel from their rack. I grabbed a second towel to wrap up with. We took seats at a table near the bar and I ordered a large breakfast. Kim had coffee and a bagel. As it turns out, we thought about a lot of the same things. We talked about kids and our friends and the book we’d read on relationships. I said we needed to keep the chapter on troubleshooting your relationship close at hand. It was weird how we thought the same way about so many things.

We talked about how different we were. Kim was much more willing to confront someone but she really was a cheerleader. She could be very encouraging. I didn’t think I confronted people very much but Kim reminded me about Dillon James. That was different, I thought. I wasn’t confronting so much as I was standing up for a friend. We agreed that we had made a pretty good team when Manny showed up and needed help. We agreed that if any of our friends ever needed help, we’d do whatever we could.

Kim was a lot more outgoing and spontaneous. I liked to plan things and the more precise the plan, the better. We talked about creativity for a while. It was a blind spot for both of us. Kim had an idea and we went for it, being spontaneous and all.

Two hours later, Mom knocked on my door. I opened it, careful not to make a mess.

“You were supposed to call when you got out of the water,” she said.

“Sorry. We got sidetracked.”

“What are you two doing?” she said, following me back to the table.

“Fingerpainting,” Kim said as though it’s what we normally did.

“I can see that. Very, um, unique.” We had covered the little table with a clear, thin tarp, and had our work set in front of us. We weren’t done.

“I think so. I call this Sunset at The Cut,” I said.

“The point of view in that picture is to the east,” she said, tilting her head this way and that to better appreciate it.

“I now call this Sunrise at The Cut. Artists are flexible like that.”

“Obviously,” she answered. “And that is...”

“It’s a cat. It’s on a tin roof and it’s hot. You can tell by the steam.”

“Ah ha.” Mom was clearly amused. It not only didn’t look like a cat, but whatever it was on didn’t even look like a roof. The steam was a whole ‘nuther issue.

“We’re getting in touch with our inner artist,” Kim said. It made perfect sense.

“I think you might need to dig a little deeper,” she said.

“Artists are often misunderstood. We were prepared for this type of reception from the grande bourgeoisie,” I said.

“The grande bourgeoisie. That’s what I am, huh? I thought misunderstood artists all had mustaches.”

Kim lay her pinky in black and smeared it around. I leaned forward and she pressed it against my upper lip. My first mustache.

“You two were made for each other. Where did you get the fingerpaint?”

“Toy store on the corner. Six bucks,” I said.

“Quite a bargain.”

“When our work sells for millions, people will flock to Marie’s Toy Box. As you can see, we’re non-conformists, dabbling in surrealism,” Kim said, adding whiskers to her cat. It looked angry.

“I can definitely see that. I had no idea you were so gifted.”

“I was thinking we might open a gallery together,” I said. Our stuff was pathetic.

“You should probably sleep on that, sort of the way Rip Van Winkle slept, for a hundred years.”

“It was only twenty and he’d been drinking,” I said. “I don’t think Mom appreciates the finer points of our creativity.”

“I think I give them all the credit they deserve,” she said, now trying to figure out what Kim’s cat was doing. “You have paint on your back.”