FIRST PLACE, SECOND-BEST(Susan Joyner-Stumpf) (Some Adult Language; Reader Discretion Advised)


FIRST PLACE, SECOND-BEST

It was a typical fall day, as much as we could experience it in my hometown of New Orleans, birthplace of Creole, Voodoo, Bourbon Street and Mardi Gras, and 80-degree weather most Christmas mornings. On this particular beautiful Saturday morning, the air, and competitive atmosphere, was crisp and cool for mid-October. It was the year 1969 and I was seventeen years old, a Sophomore at Grace King High School. And today, I was a contestant in Dominick’s Semi Annual Horse Show that took place at a mom and pop-type stables in the neighborhood area close to where I boarded my horse Gabriel, a grey half Belgium Draft/Arabian Cross. I was showing Gabriel in Open English Hunter Seat and Adult Amateur Jump Class. Events had just begun yet it would be awhile before my own event was due in the ring. Currently, a Conformation Class was performing their strict Halter rounds, and I watched from the sidelines, already mounted on my large gelding.

Evan, a friend, tapped my booted leg tucked neatly in the stirrup, offering a very welcomed steaming cup of coffee. “Here ya go sweet pea,” he outstretched his hands with the Styrofoam cup while the other free hand stroked Gabriel’s long, curly forelock. “That’s all you need ~ caffeine to make you more nervous.” Evan smiled. We were just platonic friends, not lovers. As a matter of fact, the majority of my friends were male. I always got along better with the male gender. Though I had a few scattered female acquaintances, most of them were either overly-competitive with me, or insanely jealous for some odd reason. The rare few I had that I could count on one hand who were kind to me were sacred gems I kept close to my heart.

“Me? Nervous?” I let out a laugh that broke into the festive excitement as I looked down fondly at Evan’s beautiful face. He looked like Paul McCartney. When I would tell him this, he would always blush to a crimson shade of boyish shyness and genuine embarrassment. Evan’s modesty would never take my antics seriously, but it was true, he really did resemble young Beatle Paul even though my current crush was his better-half, John Lennon. Why Evan didn’t have a throng of girlfriends is beyond me. I guess I was a safe thing to him, someone who didn’t barrage him with giddish love notes or act all gooey-eyed in his presence. I was refreshing because I was indifferent, aloof. I was more like one of his buddies, there to have a good time, or be quiet and listen if that’s all he needed at the moment. And I instinctively knew what he needed of me and when, as I expected the same of Evan and he knew that. We made no demands upon each other. But we were always there for one another. Though I attended an all-girl’s school, his school, Rummel, was our brother-school, so we had met at different class functions. We were as close as any of my girlfriends, if not closer. We trusted one another explicitly. We had much in common, for instance, both of us were adopted and living with foster families. That bond alone had sealed our fate early on. Everything else in our relationship just fell into place, naturally.

“Just a little, right?” Evan closed his thumb and first finger together to form the shape of a smidgeon.

“I guess a little nervous,” I admitted, patting Gabriel’s strong, thick neck, “but my boy here knows the rounds. I could just give up the reins and he’d know what to do without cue. Right Gabe?” As if he understood, his whinny, which felt like it came from his deep bowels, rocked me momentarily back and forth in the Forward Seat English Saddle.

“It’s in the bag,” Evan promised, “you have this one, sweet pea.” He always called me sweet pea. That was his fond nickname for me. He called me that more than he called me Heather, my real name. The Judge was announcing the winner. A young girl walked up to the platform. Behind her followed a handsome Bay gelding and a blue ribbon was attached to his halter. The crowd clapped and cheered and the next event was called. Western Pleasure. I knew five of the contestants. I didn’t like any of them, nor they me. They boarded their horses at the same stables where I boarded Gabriel. I tried to like them, but they often made fun of Gabriel because he was part draft horse and they said he was about as graceful as an elephant. So they all had this little click where they went on trail rides and overnight camping trips with their horses, but Heather and Gabriel were never invited.

They said the only reason Gabriel jumped over any fence was probably because I threatened him, which, of course, was ridiculous. Like I’m going to threaten an animal four times my size into doing something he doesn’t want to do? Yeah, right. Gabriel learned these things because he loved me, because he wanted to please his mistress, and that is all. And I would agree he was not as elegant as their Dressage Warm bloods or Western Pleasure Thoroughbreds, but he could dance and jump with the best of them. That’s what made them upset, that here was this big klug of a horse and he took the ribbons right under their muzzles. They couldn’t stand it!

“What are you doing here, wasting your time?”

I looked over to see where the compliment was coming from, and of course, I should have known, it was Veronica, who was in the Stable Click and hated me and the horse I rode in on. She stood beside her coal-black gelding, Ebony Fire, a Grand Champion Thoroughbred and my steepest competition in all events.

“No,” I said, “wasting yours.” I tipped my helmet at her and she smirked as she mounted her 17 hand high horse, who was only slightly smaller than Gabriel was.

She entered the ring and put Ebony Fire through his Western paces. “I hate that bitch, I’m sorry,” Evan snarled, shaking his long hair. “Where does she come off thinking she’s better than us, huh?”

“Don’t let her ignorance stir your pretty locks,” I told Evan, “she’s not worth it. She’s another one in that stupid click at the stables. Thinks the world should bow down and kiss her ass. That will be a cold day in Hell.”

“Got that straight,” Evan added. He flipped her something with his finger and I hoped she didn’t see it. “I wouldn’t lay her if she was the last whore …”

“Evan, quit it,” I demanded, “she’s not worth getting upset over. Really. Look at her. Sitting there straight in the saddle like a store window mannequin. She thinks she’s flawless. A real piece of work. She’s flawless, alright. A flawless idiot.”

We both laughed. Then another from the click came up behind us. It was Nadine. “You’re gonna put that poor old brute through another painful show?” She spat at me, mounting her Golden Palomino Quarter Horse.

“This poor old brute is younger than your yeller mule,” I spat back. “How old is Gold Rush, fifteen, sixteen now? You should be getting a Retirement check in the mail by now. Hope he doesn’t have a heart attack over jump three in the Open Class.”

“Shut the f-- . . .” she started.

“Do you have anything better to do than irritate Heather before a big event?” Evan interrupted her. “I think they’re selling Horse Insurance at that booth over there. Why don’t you go buy some for your Glue-Factory Candidate old klugster? He’s gonna need it, and so are you when he drops dead in front of everyone from exhaustion. Shoulda put ‘em out to pasture long time ago.”

Nadine gave Evan the evil eye, but he wasn’t affected by her or anyone from the clan. He knew, too, that secretly, she had a crush on him and only acted like she hated him. What she really would have loved was a tumble in the old hay stack with him, which, of course, would never happen. Because even though she was attractive, it was her rotten personality and her attitude towards me that ruined it as far as Evan was concerned. She would never have a chance with him, the way she and the others treated me and Gabriel. That was another reason for their jealously. They knew Evan and I were close, but they didn’t know how close. In her dreams, Nadine could have her way with Evan. But in reality, his hatred was real and he’d retaliate all the way if I wouldn’t stop him.

Nadine entered the ring and the gates were closed, signaling that if more contestants tried to enter, they would be disqualified for being late. The horses performed around the outer edge of the arena, putting their horses through the different paces of gait cadence like the walk, trot, soft lope, stopping, turning the other direction, standing still, at all times making sure the horse was collected, switched leads properly, and listened to rein signals. Nadine came in first place, Veronica took second. I wondered if the competition between them was friendly, or, secretly, were they jealous of each other as well.

There was a break in competition events and Evan asked if I wanted a sandwich. The next event on the schedule was ours, Adult Amateur Jump Class, so, we had thirty minutes to prepare. “I can’t eat before a show Evan. It will make me sick.” My eyes looked across the bandstand. Why did I think they would be there? They weren’t. They never were: my foster family, mother, brother, father. They were aware of this today. Did they come? Could they take time out from their busy schedule to see their daughter/sister perform in this horses show? I guess we all know the answer. I was sad.

Evan had watched my eyes. He looked down, feeling sorry for me. “They’re not here, are they?” He already knew the answer. It was rhetorical.

I shook my head. “They never are. Why would I think today would be any different?”

“Because you wanted it to be,” Evan explained, “because you figured, heck, they always go to your brother Michael’s Hydroplane Races, surely they could come to at least one of your horse shows. But ever since I’ve known you, they never have. Just like my foster parents. We want to please them, constantly seek their approval. Why? They could care less.”

“I know, I know,” I really didn’t want to rehash all this, “I just thought . . .” I let it go. There was nothing to finish. I would perform, with only Evan and perhaps a few girlfriends in the audience to cheer me on, be proud of me, no matter what. What did it matter? Nothing’s changed. It never would.

Thirty minutes seemed to fly by. The next thing I remembered, though my head seemed to be in a fog, was the Judge announcing Adult Amateur Jump Class. The gate opened and others poured in, ahead me. As a matter of fact, I entered the ring purposefully last. I still looked around, giving them the benefit, one last chance. No one but two of my close girlfriends, Sandy and Judy, could be heard screaming my name, cheering me and Gabriel on. Besides Evan and those two, no one there cared that Gabriel showed up the entire class and jumped with precision and flawless technique. Nadine and the others from the clan looked on with scowls on their face. When the Judge placed the blue ribbon on Gabriel’s headset, it seemed like a surreal dream that strangers in the audience were clapping to my good fortune. Suddenly, it just didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean any more, either, that Gabriel wasn’t satisfied with only one Blue Ribbon, so we took the one home from Open English Hunter Seat, too. We should have been happy, proud, I know. I remember Judy and Sandy and Evan hugging me at the end of the day, taking pictures, begging me to smile. Wanting me to go out with them somewhere and celebrate, I told them perhaps later, I wanted to take a nap.

The last thing I remembered was going home into my room, placing two new blue ribbons next to the others: there were other Horse Show ribbons, Track Meet Trophies, and Poetry and Short Story Writing Contests Ribbons. I stood there and looked at it all with such an empty feeling. What did it all mean and who cares, anyway?

It told me this: to the outside world, I was worthy of First Place. But in the real world where it counted, to those I loved whose love I tried to win back, I would never be anything more than Second Best. I think there was room on the Award Board for that. Plenty of space.

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf

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