The Heartbreak Horse

I’m a guy who falls hard for girls. I like to think I look for good qualities in them, but honestly, I probably don’t. I go for all kinds of girls. I’ve loved two in my lifetime, and they are polar opposites. Val is a goddess—looks like one, breathes like one, speaks like one. Everything about her is beautiful and graceful, and really, she makes you feel like s**t twenty-four/seven because she’s so damn perfect. And then there’s Riley. The girl I loved two years ago. The girl who is plain, simple, charming, and sincere. Smart and strong. Everything she says means something. She doesn’t speak unless there is a need to, and when she does, it’s epic. I listened to her more than I listen to anyone else, because every time I listened, I learned something. When I loved Riley, it was a happy love. I never asked how she felt about me, and I never really felt the need to know in return. It just was. And then she got the call and left, and for two years, I didn’t see her. And then she came back changed. She wasn’t epic anymore, and for a while, I didn’t understand. She wasn’t the Riley I had loved. She was tiny, wicked, f****d-up, and broken. At first, I didn’t know how to act; I didn’t know who she was anymore. But then I realized it didn’t matter that I didn’t know who she was. All that mattered was getting to know her—and helping her. And really, even if I wanted to leave things be—to stay away from her and forget the past—I couldn’t. I’m the kind of person who can’t leave things alone, and she had to go and fall for my damn horse, and that, as they say, was that.