Under The Saddle (Horse Story)

t h r e e // unknown messages

The house had taken several days to sweep clear of dirt and rubbish, and clear every room, and then another few long days for Dad to fix the broken walls, floors, and roof enough for us to be able to officially move in. We'd been staying at a local motel, although it made me . Thankfully, we had several neighbors to help, but unfortunately, one of them was Violet. The other two were an older couple, and a man around Dad's age who introduced himself as Luke Jensen. The older couple were equally friendly as Violet, with ear-to-ear smiles, and constant chatter, and Luke was equally friendly, with a lot less talk. 

I'd discovered that Violet had known my mom, much to my dismay, and that explained why she'd been so friendly with Dad. She also became set on trying to learn everything about me and become my friend, and many times I'd come close to telling her she might have known my mom, but she didn't know me. 

So far, nothing even measured up to New York, and I felt more lost than I had when I first moved there. The weather was always changing, and the lack of almost everything I'd grown to rely on, was driving me crazy. I hadn't spoken to another girl my age in almost a week, and even though Violet insisted her daughter would be more than happy to meet me, I wasn't so sure I'd share in the joy- assuming her daughter was anything like her.

Virginia's autumn was a lot more temperamental than New York's, and after yesterday's thunderstorm, I was relieved to be able to finally bring my boxes inside and unpack. The house was vaguely beginning to resemble a home, thanks to most of the furniture being set up. 

I leaned back against the head of my bed, stretching my legs out on the thick duvet. My room was tiny in comparison to my old one- it being an attic. I hated it. My desk was under a large bay window that looked down over the front entrance, and fairy lights were strung around the room, bringing a little of my old room here. I'd tried my best to set it up similarly, and a warm feeling of homeliness filled me as I took it in. The afternoon sun streamed in the side window at the foot of my bed, throwing sunlight along the baby-blue duvet and warming my toes.

Bored, I jumped up, changing into skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt before wandering down the boarded-up stairs cautiously to find Dad. He was perched at the top of a ladder, whistling cheerfully as he painted the wall a light beige color.

"Hey dad," I mumbled, plopping down on the lone sofa which stood in the middle of the room. His face lit up, and he dropped the paintbrush into a tray, climbing down.

"Hey darling! I was just thinking about driving down to the town to grab a bite to eat?" He asked.

I glanced at him. "Why? We have food here don't we?" I wasn't exactly looking forward to whenn that particular trip came round, and I had a sinking feeling it would be even worse than what I imagined.

"We may as well look around a bit, considering we're here." He shrugged.

"At what?" I asked.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "You practically grew up here, Cheyenne. Let's see what's changed."

My jaw dropped in disbelief. He hadn't mentioned that part to me.

"Hold on, I grew up here?" I didn't believe him. He wouldn't do that. He'd spent just as long as me trying to fight off the past that hurt us so bad. He wouldn't bring it all crashing down. Panic rose in the pit of my stomach, daring me to go. To rediscover my childhood.

"If you really don't want to..." Dad started, but I held up my hand, scowling. I didn't want his pity. I'd never needed his pity before, and I didn't need it now.

My breathing grew heavier as the thought sunk in. I pressed my fingers to my temples to get rid of the throbbing.

"It's okay Chey" He said. "We can do this another time."