Then Mum was crying. She grasped me in a tight hug. "It's okay honey, it's okay," she murmured. I don't know why people say it's okay even when it's clearly not okay. It'd never be okay.
I pulled away from her and dragged myself to my feet, waving slightly. I had to be with Gypsy.
I approached her and threw my arms around her neck, sobbing loudly into her matted mane, her sweet horsey scent faint beneath the smell of wet-horse.
Gypsy still looked so content and I didn't understand why. Doesn't it hurt?
"I'm s? so sorry. I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry?" I was worried about the ground conditions, but I'd jumped her anyway. I'd risked her life? For what? Now she had a broken leg? And now?
"You know what this means, don't you Adele?" a voice said behind me. Dad's voice. I turned. His voice was calm, but his eyes were wet. "The vet is on the way."
I knew this had to happen, but hearing it finalized everything, and my already broken heart shattered completely. I couldn't handle this.
"It? it's all my fault?" I stammered.
"No honey. Accidents happen," Mum reached for me again. "It's not your fault."
Lucy, who had vanished to the car, came back with Gypsy's feed. "I'll see if she wants to eat while we wait," she said quietly, her eyes fixated on the bucket. Then she glanced quickly at me with her tear-streaked face. "I'm so sorry," she choked out.
Gypsy buried her face in the bucket, gratefully eating the feed offered.
"Why doesn't she look sore? M? Maybe it's not as bad as it looks? Maybe we can save her," I cried hopefully.
"Her body has gone into shock. You don't need to worry, she's not in pain for now. But that's a clean break. I'm sorry," a man with shaggy dark hair answered beside me. The fence judge.
"That's right," Dad agreed apologetically, placing his hand on Gypsy's shoulder.
"I'll untack her," Lucy offered.
Gypsy hungrily finished her feed and tossed the bucket away. I rubbed beneath her forelock in gentle, circular motions, watching her big brown eyes soften. She sighed and lowered her head, resting her nose upon my thighs. I cried quietly. No words could describe the sadness I experienced. These were my final moments with my beloved horse; all because I took a stupid risk.
Everybody stood watching in silence, lost for words. There was nothing anybody could say to make this nightmare any easier.
All too soon the vet arrived- a short, wiry, little man with glasses. He drove a red truck, towing a big trailer. The trailer was to remove Gypsy's body once she was euthanized, I knew.
Once she was killed. Dead.
A fresh flood of tears exploded to the surface, and I once again buried my face into Gypsy's neck.
"Such a shame," the vet spoke in a surprisingly deep voice for his petite size. "How did it happen?"
"She slipped showjumping," Dad spoke under his breath, as though trying to stop me from hearing. I didn't understand why. I knew she'd slipped showjumping. I knew it was all my fault.
"Hmm, yes. It's not the best day for it," the vet replied. He stepped up beside Gypsy and I. "Is she your horse?" he asked me.
I nodded without looking at him.
"She's a very nice mare," he commented.
"Not for long," I said hastily, my voice cracking.
"This happens more often than you'd think," he said. "We should probably do this quickly. I think the pain is starting to kick in."
I gasped and grasped her tighter, afraid to let her go.
"This won't hurt her a bit. I promise. It will just be like she's going to sleep," the vet assured me.
Except this time, she won't wake up? I thought.
Trembling, I took a step back. I didn't ever want this moment to come, but the idea of the pain coming on made me terrified for her. I didn't want her to suffer? I owed her that. And as I looked at her, I knew I was making the right decision; the time was now. She appeared to stand hollow, her ears drooped to the sides. Her head was lowered and her beautiful eyes looked sad; so sad. I whimpered softly, over-whelmed with guilt.
"Can everybody please back away?" the fence judge called out to all those watching. "Give these guys some privacy please. Go back to your vehicles."
Mum smiled gratefully at him. I didn't care either way. Whether there were strangers watching, or only us, we got the same result- Gypsy's death.
I stood stroking my mare, unable to speak; unable to say goodbye. As her legs waivered and collapsed beneath her, I too, fell to the ground still stroking her warm body. I lay against her, ignoring the mud seeping into my clothes, and I cried. Everybody else was forgotten once again. It was just Gypsy and I.
Then it was just me, stroking the corpse of which once was my horse.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. A man in a forklift had to hoist Gypsy's body onto the trailer. I didn't know who had arranged that. Plans had been made for her to be buried at Ridgewood stables.
The rest of the competition was called off. Lucy had placed second on Bugs, but it was no longer a day worthy of celebrating.
Sorry people kept glancing my way as I headed to my parent's car; I was traveling home with them. Even Larissa had nothing rude to say as I grabbed my gear from Steve's truck.
The drive home was morbid and quiet; even Natasha didn't speak.
As soon as we arrived home I climbed the stairs to my room. I refused dinner and got into bed where I cried, occasionally falling into a light sleep to escape agony, not only emotional but physical, for my head pounded with a bad headache. I'd escape for a little bit only to wake up again and cry some more. I even managed to sleep for a straight hour and when I woke up again, just for a moment, I'd forgotten that anything bad had happened. For just a moment everything was okay, only to have the day's events flashing back to me, horrifying me once again.
The day quickly turned into night. Tossing and turning, the day's events repetitive in my head, I somehow found a way to cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Seven
The sun shone through the gap in the curtains, warming my face and awakening me the next morning. I opened my eyes groggily and cursed myself for not shutting the curtains completely. I longed to close my eyes and disappear once again, to a world where yesterday was unknown to me; but the fresh pain washing over me meant that was not an option; I was wide awake. I reached over to my dresser, gasping as a sharp pain thundered down my back, and read the time on my cell phone. 9.05am.
Today Gypsy would have had a day off riding as a reward for her hard work the day prior. I would have headed out to the stables, given Gypsy a small feed with all the vitamins and minerals she required, then groomed her until her coat shined. I would have spoken quietly to her as I always did, talking about absolutely anything that crossed my mind. The radio would have been playing quietly in the garage beside us. Gypsy would have stood contently, enjoying the feel of the brushes bristles gently massaging her skin.
Now, Gypsy had forever off riding. Never again would her golden coat glisten. Never again would she be there to listen.
Tears filled my eyes. I knew today was going to be a long and horrible day. Maybe the rest of my life would be. I lay back down; I might have been wide awake, but I felt too devastated to do anything at all. I cried until I had nothing left, then I curled into a ball and simply lay there, forcing my mind into a blank state. I longed for a drink of water and a wheat pack for my back, but I couldn't bring myself to leave the bed.
I must have drifted back to sleep. I woke an hour later to a gentle knock on the door. Mum wandered in with a plate of pancakes and a big glass of water. "Hungry?" she asked softly.
"No," I replied, but reached for the water. How could anyone be hungry at a time like this?
"Well I'll leave these here for you. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"Um? My back is still really sore," I mumbled.
"I'll go and heat you up a wheat pack and bring you some paracetamol."
She left, re-entering the room f
ive-minutes later to pass me two paracetamol tablets and the wheat pack. "I struggled to sleep last night," Mum told me quietly, making me guilty that I'd managed to sleep.
I placed the wheat bag onto my bed and lay down on my back so the heat was applied to the painful area. It soothed it, and I felt a mild sense of relief. Mum sat down on my bed brushing a piece of hair from out of my eyes. She sat there, simply watching me. I ignored her and closed my eyes.
After a while Mum stood back up. "Let me know if you need anything," she said.
I lay there all day, Mum occasionally coming to heat up my wheat pack. I had a sense of 'not being' and I welcomed this as opposed to the sadness I'd felt so much of.
By 6pm my stomach rumbled loudly, and guilty that I could feel hunger in my grief, I reluctantly picked up one of the now-cold pancakes.
I was munching away when Lucy opened my bedroom door and peered at me. "Can I come in?"
"Mm," I mumbled in reply, propping myself up against the wall.
She sat down on the bed beside me. "How are you doing?" she asked. She looked so uncomfortable, fiddling with her hands.
I looked down and shrugged.
"Your Mum told me to tell you we plan to have the burial tomorrow," Lucy murmured.
Sadness rushed over me, drowning my blank state of mind. I blinked back tears; I didn't want to cry again. I wasn't ready to face the burial of my horse; but then I'd never be ready.
"I?" I tried to speak. "I don't want to be there." But I knew I'd go. It was my last chance to say goodbye.
Lucy placed a hand on my knee and looked at me with sad eyes. "It's not your fault. You know that, right?"
I shook my head. "No Lucy. It is my fault. The ground was so wet and so muddy? so slippery." I stared at her solemnly through tear-blurred vision. "I risked her life."
"You didn't know? It was a freak accident; it could have happened to anyone," Lucy insisted.
"The worst part is, a moment before the bell rang, I had doubts. I had doubts Lucy; but I rode her anyway. If I'd listened to them, Gypsy would still be alive today." A hot tear ran down my cheek and I furiously brushed it away. I hated myself.
"There's no point thinking 'what if?' Adele. We're only human, and not all of our choices can be the right ones. I competed Bugs despite the grounds? So did everybody else there. Does that make us wrong too? Am I? I mean are we all, bad people?" Lucy cried.
I didn't reply. I didn't know how to.
"It could have happened to any of us Adele?"
"But it happened to me. The grounds weren't as bad when it was your turn. By the time it was my turn, it was so much worse," my voice cracked.
Lucy sighed. "It doesn't really matter now."
My face flushed and I glared at her. "My horse is dead, and you say it doesn't matter now?! It will always matter Lucy! I'll always be carrying this guilt, and I'll always miss Gypsy! Always!" I shook my head in disbelief. How could she say that?
"I? I didn't mean that," she stammered. "I only meant it doesn't matter whose fault it is? It doesn't matter what you could have done differently. She's gone and there's nothing that can be done to change that."
My anger was quickly taken over with the all-too-familiar feeling of sadness. The idea of Gypsy really being gone was too much to comprehend. The fact I'd never see her again hurt more than words could ever describe. Only technically, I would see her again; her body; her empty soul-less body dumped into the ground and covered with dirt.
Lucy smiled at me suddenly. A sad half-smile. "Did you know she won for you?"
I stared at her in confusion.
"You guys got first. You won your first ever 1.25 metres class," she explained. An un-readable expression crossed Lucy's face. "She carried you to a win with a broken leg."
Chapter Eight
I stood staring into the huge, deep hole.
My family was there. Lucy and Steve were there. Michael, the owner of Ridgewood stables, stood with us too. The hot sun shone shot brightly above us. A gentle, warm breeze played gently through my brown air. The weather didn't fit the atmosphere at all. It was a reminder that while everything felt so broken to me, the world would keep spinning; with or without my happiness.
It had been a struggle to get out of bed; a struggle to face what lay ahead. My face was blotched with pink and my eyes were rimmed red.
All else was silent as Gypsy's body was lowered into the Earth. Natasha appeared unable to watch, her head buried deep into Mum's coat. All faces were serious, with the exception of Michael who stood so contently that from his expression alone, you'd never have guessed him to be at a funeral.
"Does anyone want to say something then?" Michael asked cheerfully. Too cheerfully.
All eyes were on me. "I? I can't," I stammered, my eyes filling up with tears.
"It's okay," Lucy whispered, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder.
"Anybody?" Michael asked.
Silence.
Then to my surprise Dad spoke up. "I will." He shuffled closer to the grave, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He cleared his throat. "I don't trust horses," he started. "When we bought Gypsy for Adele I was anxious. I know horse riding can be dangerous, and I kept expecting Adele to get hurt. Over time that horse allowed me to worry less and less, because I knew that Gypsy was looking after my daughter.
Adele loved Gypsy from the very first moment she saw her, and do you know what? I think that horse damn well loved her too!" Dad paused, glancing around the solemn faces. "The partnership between the two of them gave me an appreciation for horses. Thank you Gypsy, for helping and looking after my daughter. Rest in peace." He bowed his head.
My pain was mixed with love at this moment; love for my father and his kind words.
Everybody repeated, "Rest in peace."
"Shall we bury her then?" Michael suggested.
"Um," I muttered. "Could I have a moment alone with her?" I asked shyly. I had to say goodbye to my beloved horse. I couldn't merely walk away.
"Do you all want to come in for a coffee?" Michael gave me a quick smile, and I smiled through my tears in appreciation.
"You just come and get us when you're ready, honey," Mum said.
I watched as everybody followed Michael towards the house, leaving me alone. I turned back to the grave and stared down at Gypsy's lifeless body, wondering where she was now; if she was anywhere at all. I couldn't bear the thought of her simply not existing.
I knelt down beside her grave. "I'm so sorry girl. I didn't mean for it to happen," I whispered. "You're crazy you know. You didn't have to keep going for me. You won for me though. Lucy told me yesterday that you won for me. We even beat Larissa," I told her. "But I'd be happy to never win again, if I could only keep you with me.
"You are the best horse in the world. I could never, ever find a horse like you because you are one in a billion. Living without you is just too much for me to comprehend. The only thing that could ever keep me going, is the thought that one day I'll see you again." No longer hysterical, I felt calm, as though floating upon a lake of sadness, comforted by my own words. "I love you Gypsy. Goodbye for now."
Days passed by in a blur. I ate little, rarely left my bed, and spent my time sleeping, or flicking through images of Gypsy, our memories fresh in my mind. I lacked motivation to do anything. Life just seemed so pointless without Gypsy to ride and care for. I no longer had goals, ambitions, or a happy place. I cried on and off throughout the daytime, and thanked God for keeping her out of my dreams.
One afternoon Lucy came over. "Are you ready for school next week?"
"What day is it?" I asked. I'd lost track of the days. They had no meaning anymore.
"Monday," Lucy replied.
"Today?"
"No? School starts on Monday," Lucy raised an eyebrow at me. "Today is Friday."
I groaned. I knew school would be starting again soon, but I hadn't realized just how soon. "I'll never be ready for school," I moaned.
&
nbsp; "At least it's only one more year," Lucy said. "I'm not looking forward to it either."
"I just want to stay here forever," I mumbled, yanking the duvet up over my head.
Lucy reached for it, pulling it back off my face. She looked at me, her face serious. "It's nearly been a week since Gypsy's funeral. You should come outside and get some fresh air. It'll make you feel better," she insisted.
I glared at her. Nothing would make me feel better.
"Or, why don't we go see a movie or something?" Lucy suggested. "We could go shopping? Or go out for tea. You need to get out of the house!"
"No thanks," I replied sharply.
"How about we go and ride Bugs?" she spoke casually, rolling a piece of hair around her finger.
Anger rushed over me and I struggled to push it aside. "No!"
"Why not? You don't have to jump him if you've lost confidence. Flat work would do him good; or you could ride him on the road and I'll walk. I don't mind."
"I haven't lost my confidence!" I snapped. "I'm not riding Bugs. Not now, not ever!"
Lucy looked hurt. "What's wrong with Bugs?"
"You don't get it, do you?" I spoke carefully through gritted teeth. "I'm not riding Bugs because I'm not riding any horse ever again!" I surprised myself a little. The decision had lingered at the back of my mind since the day Gypsy died, but not only was this the first time I'd told Lucy, it was the first time I'd admitted it to myself.
Lucy gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. "But riding means everything to you!" she argued.
"Well it doesn't anymore."
"What about your showjumping career?" she exclaimed.
"Luckily Mum made me stay at school. For the first time ever I understand what she meant by 'just in case.'"
"But what will you do?" Lucy's voice softened.
"I have a year to figure that out." I thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll just work in a supermarket. What does it matter anyway?"
Lucy stared at me in disbelief. I stared back, challenging her to push the subject further. She looked away and climbed slowly to her feet. "I know you're upset about Gypsy, Adele. The thing is that she's dead, and there is nothing you can do about it," she spoke bluntly. "You need to get on with your life."
I looked at her in horror. "It hasn't even been a week!" I shouted. "Gypsy was everything to me! And I killed her Lucy! I killed her!" I felt so hurt, so angry. "So forgive me if I haven't forgotten that she ever existed after six days, Lucy!" I finished, my voice dripping with sarcasm.