The First Day of the Rest of My Life by Cathy Lamb Read Free Book Online

Watch your breathing, in and out, in and out, like this, watch me, watch me. Remember what we learned.” He breathed in and out, but his breathing was shaky, nervous, agitated. “I’m with you, honey. We’ll saddle up and do this together.”
    The horse neighed once, softly, then continued her agitated walk around the confines of her stall.
    “I don’t mind telling you,” Jeremy said to us, his brow letting sweat flow like a sieve, “I’ve had a hoofin’ bad and terrible time with morning sickness for weeks now. Hoofin’ bad time! Morning sickness!”
    Jeremy is in love with all his horses and he likes to use horsey language. It makes him feel “included in the family.”
    “You mentioned your morning sickness a thousand times,” Annie said. “I told you to rest, put those big feet of yours up, calm down—”
    “Calm down?” He was aghast. “Calm down! Loretta Lou is pregnant! She’s going to have a foal! A baby! How can I calm down? I’ve had problems with my stomach, swollen ankles, I have cravings for avocado, I can eat six at a time, and I wash it down with chocolate milkshakes, I’ve never liked milkshakes, my digestive system is a mess . . .”
    “You’ll start to feel better soon, Jeremy,” Annie soothed. “Loretta Lou will have her foal—”
    He clapped both hands to his face. “I’m a wreck, a wreck! I’ve had mood swings, tears, rages, then joy, wonderful joy over the baby, I mean the foal, followed by the pits! Pits of low! Of fear! I’ve had to horseshoe my emotions!”
    “You’ll be a good father,” I said.
    Jeremy burst into tears. “Thank you, Madeline, for saying that. I’ve got my bridles and I’m ready to guide and lead! I hope I’ll be a good father! I hope! But watching Loretta Lou grow and grow, it’s been terrible! I’ve put on ten pounds, too. Right there.” He pointed to his stomach. It did bulge. “I’m going to sing to her now.”
    Jeremy started to sing a lullaby through his semi-hysterical tears as he stroked Loretta Lou’s neck. It was surprisingly poignant, the notes clear and crisp, and yet wistful, too. “That always calms her down, always. I sing it every night before she goes to sleep.”
    “It calmed me down,” Annie said, her eyes on the horse.
    “It calmed me down, too,” I said to Jeremy.
    He sang again, and the horse paced. “Loretta Lou, dumpling, you are going to make a wonderful mother.” Jeremy wept. “A caring, loving mother, and your baby is lucky to have you. Now, hang on, lady, jump your fear, and we’ll have the baby out in a few, and you can begin your mothering. . . .”
    I knew that Annie did not think this one-sided conversation strange. She talks to animals, too, only she talks to them as if they’re mature humans. I’ve heard her discuss with dogs, cats, lambs, horses, ferrets, llamas, and pigs the stock market, the political scene in Oregon and the nation, various environmental problems, the value of a military career, volcanoes, poorly fitted bras, cramps, yeast, transgender folks, rock stars, organic foods, and Armageddon.
    “I want you to pretend you’re in the field, Loretta Lou,” Jeremy instructed, still sweating, his face inches from his horse’s. “Put yourself in a field of buttercups, that’s it, buttercups, and clover and hay and some cheesecake, no, not cheesecake, I like cheesecake you don’t, but think of that field, go into your pleasant spot, love, your tranquil Zen mode. . . .”
    The horse swung her head a few times, stomped a foot, but was otherwise calm. I felt sorry for her. Her stomach was enormous. It looked like, well, it looked like she had a horse in it.
    “Sugar lips, you can do it! You can push, darling,” Jeremy said. “Breathe in and out, like we’ve practiced, like we’ve talked about, stay calm, stay in your pleasant spot, focus, focus. . . .”
    Soon Annie’s gloved hands were moving under the horse, while Jeremy kept singing lullabies, his voice cracking as he cried like a