CHAPTER FORTY
July 1 to August 18, 1990.
July passes too quickly. We watch fireworks on the lake during a July Fourth celebration. We spend a weekend in Australia to take a break from the summer heat. Layne volunteers at a youth camp at the history museum for two weeks, and we spend an extended weekend in Rockland, Maine with Tom’s and Ra’Shelle’s families. Kari and Layne bond over the joys of summer vacation, and the kids enjoy the ocean.
Layne spends the first two weeks of August with me in Minneapolis, and when I get off work, he takes me to a romantic dinner almost every night.
One afternoon, he sees a “back to school drive” helping kids who can’t afford school supplies, and he clears out an entire school supply aisle at a chain store and donates all of them. The next day, he purchases a hundred monthly metro passes and donates them to a homeless shelter. If I’m tied up at lunch, he volunteers at a nearby soup kitchen.
Basically, while I’m at work, he’s donating to charity, and I love him more every day.
When he explores the city, he often drops a hundred-dollar bill in a street artist’s guitar case or tin cup and keeps strolling so that he’s gone before they realize what’s happened. Once I notice this, I begin taking him down streets that I know are more likely to have musicians and other performing artists; he might give away more than a grand on a single walk to dinner.
Perhaps money has made our life unconventional, but I’m finally learning to accept it.
***
The Saturday before the fall semester begins, Layne decides we need one more adventure date: to go horseback riding.
“Ever been?” he asks when we arrive.
“A few times, but not recently.”
“I’ve come every few months since I was a kid. It’s freeing. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m open to damn near anything. You know that.”
Surrounded by trees and small wildlife, I realize it’s been too long since I spent this much time in the quiet. We’ve kept ourselves so busy that we’ve forgotten the peacefulness of nature.
“We should spend more time in nature this fall. Maybe hiking or camping when it cools down.”
He kisses my forehead. “Sounds great. I suspect you’d be gorgeous in hiking clothes.”
I laugh. “You think I’m gorgeous in everything.”
“Guilty.”
“And if this goes well,” I say, walking toward the arena, “maybe I could join you every few months.”
“I’d love that, Sam.”
The owner is a lively woman with a Southern accent. Thankfully, she spends nearly an hour giving me a refresher about safety and technique.
I almost ask where everyone else is; after all, it’s a Saturday, and I’d expect at least one or two more couples. But I’ve learned not to ask; every time I do, I receive some version of “Your fiance paid for the day.”
Sometimes, that makes me feel selfish, but honestly, I appreciate that I don’t have to interact with strangers much during our dates. I have to be social and diplomatic so much at work that it’s not to just focus on Layne during the weekends.
After strapping on our helmets, we meet our horses, both gentle and energetic. We mount them in the arena, and we spend another half hour testing the reigns, walking, and trotting. At only sixty-eight degrees, it’s surprisingly cool for August, and the horses seem to agree that it’s the perfect day for a ride. We gain the horses’ trust, and the owner feels confident taking us onto the trail.
We trot down the path, and Layne grins at me. “Looking good up there. You’re a natural.”
“You too.”
“This is something I’ve wanted to do with you for a long time.”
“I’m glad we’re doing it now.”
Layne’s right. It’s freeing; the cool wind is welcome against my face, and I almost feel like I’m flying.
This may be the closest thing to skydiving while still being on the ground.
The trail switches from grassy to rocky, and then to smooth dirt. At times, it’s wide enough for Layne and I to trot side-by-side. At other times, it narrows, and we slow our horses to walk cautiously in a single line.
A couple of hours before sunset, we begin heading back to the stables. We’re in a narrower part of the path, and I’m behind my companions.
Suddenly, two crows swoop too low, barely missing my horse’s nose, and they loudly caw just as they pass us.
The sudden movement and sound spook my horse.
I try to say soothing words, to calm her, but everything happens too quickly.
She neighs and bucks, and because she can’t gallop, she tries to veer off the course. Unfortunately, she loses her footing and falls, taking me with her.
My helmet hits the ground with such force, I’m sure I’d be dead if I weren’t wearing it.
I can’t even process everything that happens. A horrific pain shoots through my left leg and ribs.
The air leaves my lungs and struggles to return.
My hands grip the reins too tightly to release my fists.
My shoulder aches, and my neck can’t move.
Layne’s screaming, and the horse continues to neigh and snort on top of me.
My vision blurs at the edges, and everything goes dark.
***
A heavy weight is removed.
Sirens.
***
Voices.
“Horse riding accident…”
“Stay with me, Sam.”
***
More sirens.
A warm hand wraps around mine.
***
Bright lights darting above me.
Strange, concerned faces shouting at each other.
***
“BP dropping!”
Clothes ripping.
***
“She’s going to be okay, right?! She has to be okay!”
“Sir, I need you to wait outside.”
***
Oxygen mask.
“Moving on three.”
“One… Two… Three!”
Renewed pain.
***
“I need a chest tube!”
“Call radiology!”
“Prep the OR!”
***
More bright lights.
“We need more blood!”
“Ms. Lawrence, we’re going to put you under now. We’ll do everything we can.”
***
Darkness.
Silence.
Dreamless sleep.