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New Horse: "Separate Ways"

The horses depart abruptly from their picnic, following a twist in the plot. What is it that's caught Kimi's attention?

An insistent jangling that might have been a music clip suddenly interrupted the conversation, and Kimi stopped to answer his phone. Clay was just out of earshot but could see the young stallion bobbing his head and laughing. A moment later, the call ended, and Kimi trotted to catch up with Clay.

"Claymore, I'm so sorry, but I have to head back into town. One of my classmates called and I have to, I have some urgent business to attend to. I'm so sorry, can we do this another time?"

Outwardly, the Clydesdale's expression didn't change from the pleasant smile he'd worn on the drive out of town; his voice remained even and friendly. "Sure, that's fine, some other time, buddy. Got things I need to do around the shop anyway." Inside, far away from prying eyes and unintended blows, his heart felt slightly hollow.

"Beer sounds pretty good right now," he thought as he strode to the passenger side of Kimi's little ecomobile. "Good strong beer. Several pints of it." There was a liquor store on the way home, where such beer was probably waiting, as faithful as an old Black Labrador Retriever and nearly as strong and dark. Might be a day to catch up on some gardening too; but first, the beer.

The ride back to the diner was uneventful, with Kimi chattering excitedly about the coming school year and his interest in the field of business. Apparently his Business Calculus course was particularly intriguing for some reason, but Kimi was coy regarding details. In an unusual display of discretion, Clay chose not to probe for information. His demeanor was pleasant, even jovial, but those who knew him better would have called him reserved.

"All right, Kimi, thanks for the lift," Clay neighed as the ecomobile pulled up to the diner. He extended his hand, which Kimi took with both his front hooves.

"Clay, I'm really sorry to bail like this, I'm gonna get this taken care of and we'll do this again soon, okay?" His voice trailed off, an apologetic smile on his muzzle.

"Don't worry about it, colt. Manure happens, right?" Clay clambered awkwardly out of the vehicle, a tight fit even for someone of his smaller-than-typical Clydesdale stature. "Take care of yourself, Kimi, and I'll see ya soon." His voice was steady and sincere, his smile well matched to his words and tone, but it was the presentation he'd honed in years of dealing with the public. The words were sweet to the ear, but almost completely empty.

"You're the best, Clay, talk to you later!" Kimi neighed as he drove off. Waving politely, Claymore waited until the car was out of sight before hopping into his truck. What the hell was I thinking? he grumbled silently to himself, jamming the key into the ignition. As usual, the old S10 kicked over a couple of times before catching. Might want to do that tune-up before I grab those beers, Clay thought, signaling and pulling onto Quaker Street. There was a Napa store on the way home, sometimes open on Sunday during tourist season. Clay hit a button on the radio, and part of an old 'Journey' song came blaring from the speakers as he drove north toward the auto parts store.

Although he was rarely known to be in a hurry, Clay's drive back home took far longer than even he usually needed. The parts store was closed, the liquor store was out of Guinness, and then whatever 'this' was with Kimi had dissolved. His eyebrows knit in a pensive gaze over the steering wheel as Clay passed the driveway to his farm. "Shit," he muttered to no one, but he wasn't cursing the missed turn. "Just what was it with Kimi?" the Clydesdale pondered. Making a slow U turn on the deserted county road, Clay headed back toward his farm. While there was no denying that the younger stallion was pleasant and cute, it wasn't a sexual attraction Clay was feeling. "Some kind of crush, I suppose" the Clydesdale puzzled, absently tapping the cold six-pack on the seat beside him. As he pulled into his driveway and parked outside the kitchen, he noticed how very large the farm house appeared. It was, he decided, far too big a house for one old horse. Although he dwelt alone in former Johnson farmstead, Clay was not sole occupant of his well-kept wasteland, which he shared with numerous memories. Their shadowy silence crowded into the farm's dim and hidden places, manifesting in sundry ways: Mementos of his life with Cindy, the girl he knew in college and nearly married, were most prominent, scattered throughout the house. A leather racing jacket still hanging in the hall closet had been left there by Brad, a paint stallion who'd swept through town a few summers back buying collectible cars. On the desk in the office was the deed to Mitch Donaldson's old place; Clay had bought the property for back taxes when farming drove Mitch broke and back to the city. He'd long ago lost touch with Mitch, but the undisturbed document was still there, beneath a blanket of dust. Entering the unlocked kitchen door, Clay headed for the cupboard and grabbed a stein and a bottle opener. "Liquid bread," he mused while pouring several bottles into the stein, "cause a man's gotta eat." The indicator light was flashing on his answering machine, but Clay had no interest in messages right now. Customers knew he was 'off the clock' on Sundays, and if it was Kimi, well, that would just have to wait.

In a well-kept neighbourhood an hour or so away, several college students were celebrating a reunion of sorts. They'd been a loose-knit study group the previous semester, and had gotten along well enough to consider rooming together, except that housing near the college was prohibitively expensive. All of which changed when one of the girls received an inheritance. Not a jackpot, certainly, but enough to cover the move-in expenses on an actual house. Being in college, the girl was naturally more tolerant of anthros; she'd developed a certain fondness for a gangly colt in her study group. Kimi therefore found himself invited to move into this spacious bungalow just minutes from campus, with a private bath and an immense kitchen.

There was more room than Kimi'd had any time since moving here for school, and his share of the rent was actually affordable. Hanging the last of his shirts in the closet had left plenty of room to spare, and he reached for his phone again. His call went directly to voice mail, again, and neither of the messages he'd left on the business number had been answered. "Where," Kimi wondered, "had that old Clydesdale hidden himself?"