Begin Again: A Charlotte Bloom Short Story by Amanda Richardson

June 2014
     
    I woke up early, before the sun had even risen. I slowly got out of bed, stretching my sore arms above my head. I walked to the bathroom, turning on my coffee maker as I went. After showering, I quickly ate breakfast and got dressed, throwing on an old pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and my work boots. I knew it was early, but I needed to get out and clear my head. I grabbed a book. Les Misérables . I tucked the aging paperback into my back pocket, grabbed my wallet and keys, and left my room with a hot mug of black coffee still in my hand. I walked down the silent hallway. The place was empty. As I approached the front door, I noticed Henry sitting on the porch.
    “How’s it going, mate?” I asked, plopping down next to him. I looked out into the wilderness opposite the bed and breakfast.
    “Long night. Same old. Nothing exciting ever happens around here. Why’re you up so damn early?” He peered at me as I sipped my coffee.
    “Aye, couldn’t sleep. Same old.” I gave him a small shrug. Insomnia was kind of my forte now. “How’s Mary?”
    “Great.” He looked away. “She gets a little lonely, I think. You need to get yourself a woman to keep her company.”
    “It’s not a matter of getting a woman. I can get any woman I want,” I said confidently, smiling. “I just haven’t found the right one.”
    “What about… what was her name? Gina? You seemed to like her.”
    “Gemma. Nah. She was fun, but not dating material.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. I heaved myself up. “I should get going. I have to get the horses ready for the long ride tomorrow. See you around.” I patted Henry’s shoulder as I headed off to the stables, which were just off to the right of the massive house.
    Parc-Le-Bouveret, the bed and breakfast in Wales where I worked as the horse groom, had seven horses. Working with animals was easy. I didn’t have to deal with people day in and day out. Animals had compassion. They weren’t riddled with greed, corrupted with hatred, or ruined by grief. They just loved , unconditionally. I think that’s why I’d stayed here for so long. I made pretty good money and I had free room and board. It was relatively close to my hometown, which was just outside of Belfast, so I visited my mum whenever I got the chance.
    I walked along the stalls, saying good morning to all of the horses. It was a full-time job – caring for seven horses, and being the only point of reference within twenty miles. My days were filled with mindless chores like brushing manes, picking hooves, fitting saddles, cleaning stalls, scooping manure, checking that they all had fresh water and food… the list went on and on. Then I had to ride each horse to keep them in shape. Luckily, I had a routine down, and I could usually finish everything within five hours if I didn’t have any guided rides that day.
    After I finished caring for the horses, I took Nigel out of his stall. He neighed at me happily, nudging his nose on my arm. He loved our daily rides just as much as I did. I hopped up on to him, bareback, and kicked off. As we rode along the main road, I heard the cars whoosh past me. I made sure to stay on the shoulder – I was pretty reckless, sure, but I wasn’t stupid just for the sake of being stupid. Road safety had become a top priority for me.
    We trotted down the trail to the beach. It had turned into a warm, sunny day. I tugged on Nigel’s mane gently to let him know that we’d arrived. Reading had always been an escape for me. I’d grown up in a large house – my parents had been in politics – and my father had built a library for my mum that contained thousands of books. My brother, Stephen, and I loved books to this very day, which was probably a result of growing up with such a wide array of books at our disposal.
    I tied Nigel to a tree, took my boots off, and walked down to the beach. I pulled Les Misérables out of my pocket. It wasn’t the happiest of books. But I