Eddie opened the door before Chris had decided whether to knock a second time.
"There you are. Come in."
Chris stepped over the threshold, conscious of Jim behind him and the warmth of the house against his face. Somewhere beyond the hall, cutlery rattled against a plate.
"Bingo coming in?" Eddie asked.
"He seems to think so."
The dog passed them at his own measured pace.
"Dining room's through there," Eddie told Chris. "We're just sitting down."
Chris took off his jacket slowly. Behind him, Jim paused beside Eddie.
"He's having a rough night," Jim said under his breath. "Might leave early."
"All right."
That was all Chris heard. He hung his jacket on a hook and followed Bingo. Merry looked up from the table.
"Chris. Glad you could come. There's a place beside Jim."
He had prepared an explanation for being late. She had already turned to move a serving dish within reach of someone farther down the table, and the explanation stayed unused. He sat. The room was comfortably full. People were passing food, shifting chairs, finishing conversations that had begun before he arrived. Otto was telling Stefi that she had misunderstood him. Stefi appeared unconvinced.
Chris put his hands in his lap. Jim took the chair beside him. Eddie came in a moment later and sat near Merry.
"Help yourself," Merry said, passing Chris a dish. "How did Bella go?"
"Better toward the end."
"Good. What were you working on?" she commented.
"Quiet transitions. She had a few other ideas."
"Jim's horses occasionally have those," Eddie said.
"My horses have excellent ideas," Jim replied. "We disagree about when to use them."
Chris smiled and spooned food onto his plate.
"Bella's getting back into work?" Merry asked.
"Yeah. I let her sit too long, then asked too much."
"Well, you've started again," she stated. She said it while reaching for the bread. Chris waited for a question about why he had left Bella idle, but Fritz asked Eddie something from across the table and the conversation moved on. He ate a mouthful. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.
Jim waited until Chris had taken another before leaning back in his chair. "So. Endurance."
Chris glanced at him.
"You were going to explain how you spend all those hours in the saddle," Jim continued.
"Badly, apparently."
"That was your first answer. I was hoping for more detail." Jim smiled in encouragement.
"What do you want to know?" Chris asked.
"How much of it is deciding what the horse has left, and how much is sticking to the pace you planned?" Jim asked.
Chris considered that. "You need a plan. But you can't keep following it when the horse tells you it's wrong."
Eddie looked over. "What changes it?"
"Footing. Heat. How they're recovering. Whether they're eating and drinking properly. Sometimes they feel different from what you expected, and you have to take that seriously."
"Even if they're keen?" Jim asked.
"Especially if they're keen. Some will offer you more than they ought to."
Jim nodded. "That part I recognize."
Chris put down his fork. "Velvet's pretty sensible. Scot can convince you he's having the best day of his life when really he needs to slow down."
"And Bella?" Eddie asked.
"I'm still learning her."
"Useful thing to know," Eddie said.
Chris looked at him, trying to decide whether there was another meaning underneath it. Eddie was eating, his attention still on Chris, waiting to hear more.
"She's done the distance," Chris continued. "But that was with my brother. He knows things about her I don't yet."
"What would you ask him first?" Jim said.
Chris's fingers tightened around his fork. There it was. His brother at the table with him, without even being in the room. Jim saw the pause.
"Or what are you trying to find out for yourself?" Jim amended.
Chris looked down at his plate. "How she settles. Whether she needs to see another horse ahead of her, or whether that just makes her want to catch it."
Jim let the answer stand. Across the table, Fritz began describing something that had happened in his lesson. He interrupted himself twice to supply details he had forgotten, then objected when Otto tried to get him to the point.
"The point won't make sense without that bit," he said.
"I'm beginning to think there isn't a point," Stefi said.
"There is. You keep talking over it."
Chris laughed before he could stop himself. Fritz turned toward him, encouraged, and started again. For a few minutes, Chris listened without measuring the distance to the front door. He ate. He asked Fritz a question, which produced a longer answer than he had expected. Jim caught his eye over the boy's head, amused.
Then the plates began to empty. Merry got up to fetch something from the kitchen, and Eddie went with her. Conversation broke into smaller exchanges. Chris's attention slipped away from the table. He pictured the drive home. The turn he could take. The place where he could stop. The thought brought a sick little sense of relief.
He set his fork down carefully. Jim was listening to Otto. Chris waited until Otto turned to answer Stefi, then leaned closer.
"It's still there."
Jim looked at him.
"The thought about drinking?"
Chris nodded, keeping his eyes on the tablecloth.
"Do you want to step out?"
"Not yet."
"All right."
"I was fine a minute ago."
"You can sit here a while."
Chris pressed his feet against the floor. He could feel the edge of the chair beneath his thighs, hear a tap running in the kitchen. Bingo lay near Jim's feet, his chin on his paws. Jim nudged the water jug toward him. Chris filled his glass. A little water spilled beside his plate.
He reached for his napkin
.
"Here," Jim said quietly, handing him his own before Chris could drag his across the food.
"Thanks."
Eddie returned carrying dishes. Merry followed with dessert.
"Some for you, Chris?" she asked.
"Please."
His voice sounded ordinary. That surprised him. He stayed through dessert. He answered when someone spoke to him, although once he had to ask Eddie to repeat a question. Eddie did, without looking toward Jim. Eventually Chris put his spoon down.
"I think I'm going to head off."
"Of course," Merry said. "Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome."
Eddie stood when Chris did and followed him into the hall. Jim came too, with Bingo reluctantly leaving his place beneath the table. Chris took his jacket from the hook.
"Glad you came," Eddie said.
"Yeah. Me too." He managed to look at him when he said it.
"Come again."
Chris nodded, then struggled briefly with a sleeve that had turned inside out. Jim held the cuff while he pulled his arm through.
Outside, the evening air was cold. Chris took a breath and looked toward his truck. Jim walked beside him.
"You all right to drive?"
"Yeah."
They reached the driver's door. Chris got his keys out, but didn't unlock it immediately.
"Will you be around when I work Bella tomorrow?"
"What time?"
"I can come about ten."
"I'll meet you at the arena."
Chris rubbed a finger over the edge of the key. "She might be difficult again."
"She might." Jim waited.
"I meant me, too," Chris said.
"I know. Ten o'clock."
Chris unlocked the truck. He still had the drive home ahead of him. He still wanted the relief he had been imagining. As he climbed in, he told Jim that, awkwardly, with one foot still on the gravel. Jim stayed by the open door.
"Is there someone you'd usually call?"
"There's someone I can call."
"Before you leave?"
Chris glanced at the phone on the passenger seat. "Yeah."
He picked it up. Jim stepped back to give him some privacy, taking Bingo a little way along the grass. Chris found the number and pressed it before he could put the phone down again. When someone answered, he closed his eyes.
"Hi. I'm having a rough night."
(1345 words)