After a moment of thought, Apollo steps aside. Pauline Wayne gives him a thankful nod before shuffling into the stall. “Alright. Now, I’m going to be very honest with you, Apollo. The Room didn’t tell me what I was supposed to be doing. In fact, no one I’ve spoken too seems to know what I’m supposed to be doing. But I am very, very certain that it has to do with you.”
Apollo stands at the back of the stall, all four hooves in a reedy and mostly gone pile of hay. It looks like coastal hay. That’s far less becoming than the fresh grass waiting for Pauline Wayne back home.
She feels bad for him.
But then, she feels bad for a lot of the White House mounts.
“Now,” says Pauline Wayne. Her tail swishes idly behind her, swatting away the flies that are settled on her hind legs. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or am I going to have to spend all sorts of time out here making wild guesses.”
“Pauline, it’s not – ”
“Pauline Wayne,” she corrects, with a huff. “And I told you that once already. I don’t know why it’s so hard for everyone to get that. I’m not just going around calling you Apo, now am I?”
Apollo stares at her. His eyes are very wide and very dark, and his ears are so flicked back, they’ve been lost in the wild, unkempt fuzz of his mane.
“It’s Pauline Wayne, and I expect you to use Pauline Wayne when you talk to me.” She tilts her head to the side, lets out an unhappy huff. “And I expect you not to lie to me either. It’s not, you start to say, but let me tell you this, it is. It is, or I wouldn’t have been pulled away from my White House lawn to come here. So it very much is, and I very much need to know what it is, so I can fix it up and get on home.”
Apollo continues to stare at her.
Pauline Wayne stares back.
They have a stand off for a very long moment.
Then Pauline Wayne prompts back, “well?”
Apollo flinches, as if someone’s just struck him hard with a crop. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
Pauline Wayne says, “you can start with the problem.”
“And if I don’t know the problem?” Apollo says it defensively, in a way that makes it clear he knows exactly what the problem is.
Horses, thinks Pauline Wayne, derisively. Then, out loud, she prompts, “start at the beginning, then, and I’ll figure the problem out on my own.”
Katelynn E Koontz – Author
