anymore, could he? And it turned out I was good at it. I had a head for numbers. Within the first two years, I nearly doubled the revenues. Señor Flores was delighted. He promised me that if I kept it up, I’d be made partner by the time I was twenty-five and that I would inherit the entire business once he retired.”
“But the ponies…Did you get to—”
He shook his head. “No. I probably could have played polo—but there was no question about me ever going back to the piloto path. I didn’t have the time to do what I really loved, what my father had taught me—the training and the day-to-day caretaking. I worked all the time. I was at the office from morning until night, and if I wasn’t working, I was attending parties and dinners and fund-raisers. The Flores family was very prominent. I needed to help keep up appearances.”
He paused for a moment, leaning toward the sea.
“I was a millionaire many times over even before I was made partner. I had everything anyone could ever want. A beautiful house, a wife any man would envy, my mother and brother were taken care of for life…All I had to do was keep pretending to be someone I wasn’t. To be the man that Agustina and her family wanted me to be…”
She nodded, understanding. “You were—”
“Miserable. I was miserable. And I was trapped. Every day felt the same—put on a suit, go to the office, stare at numbers, go home, put on another suit, go out, make small talk with people I barely knew, go home, say good night to my beautiful wife—who, to be honest, I had nothing to say to—go to sleep next to her, and then wake up in the morning and start all over again. The only time I felt free was when I could sneak down to the stables, spend a little time in the barn, just smell the hay and the horses, you know? Get my hands a little dirty and drink maté with the other grooms.”
She smiled.
“I would go back home—to my mother and my brother—every Sunday. And I would talk to my little brother. Diego, his name was. He was a funny kid, always joking about being stuck in the wheelchair. Never complained, though. And he could see that I was unhappy. He tried to bring it up many times, but I’d always brush him off. I never wanted him to feel guilty. I mean, compared to his life, what was so very hard about mine, right?”
Noni shook her head. “There are a lot of different ways to be trapped.”
He smiled ruefully. “That is true.” He took a deep breath. “In spite of all the best medical care, in spite of everything I could pay for, Diego was still weak. His health was always precarious. He could catch a head cold and it would turn into pneumonia within a day. He had no resistance left…”
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“He died the year I turned twenty-five. The year I made partner. He developed a sore on his back—one he couldn’t feel—and it got infected and…”
He stopped talking for a moment, clenching his jaw. Noni slipped her arms around him and held him tight. He bent his face to her head for a moment, took a deep breath of her scent.
“Before he was gone, though, he made me listen. He told me that he was sick of seeing me so unhappy, that I couldn’t keep living the way I was living. That our father would have been so disappointed to see me this way. That I had to promise him that I would try to change things…”
He cleared his throat. Was quiet for a moment.
“I tried. After Diego was gone, I told Agustina that I didn’t want to work for her father anymore. That I wanted to work with the ponies again, that I needed to. She laughed and thought I was joking. When she realized that I wasn’t, she threw a temper tantrum and said that I would have to choose between her and the horses. So…I did.”
“I would have made the same choice,” whispered Antonia.
He looked away from Noni, remembering the expression on his young wife’s face when he told her he was leaving. The look of heartbreak and
“But the ponies…Did you get to—”
He shook his head. “No. I probably could have played polo—but there was no question about me ever going back to the piloto path. I didn’t have the time to do what I really loved, what my father had taught me—the training and the day-to-day caretaking. I worked all the time. I was at the office from morning until night, and if I wasn’t working, I was attending parties and dinners and fund-raisers. The Flores family was very prominent. I needed to help keep up appearances.”
He paused for a moment, leaning toward the sea.
“I was a millionaire many times over even before I was made partner. I had everything anyone could ever want. A beautiful house, a wife any man would envy, my mother and brother were taken care of for life…All I had to do was keep pretending to be someone I wasn’t. To be the man that Agustina and her family wanted me to be…”
She nodded, understanding. “You were—”
“Miserable. I was miserable. And I was trapped. Every day felt the same—put on a suit, go to the office, stare at numbers, go home, put on another suit, go out, make small talk with people I barely knew, go home, say good night to my beautiful wife—who, to be honest, I had nothing to say to—go to sleep next to her, and then wake up in the morning and start all over again. The only time I felt free was when I could sneak down to the stables, spend a little time in the barn, just smell the hay and the horses, you know? Get my hands a little dirty and drink maté with the other grooms.”
She smiled.
“I would go back home—to my mother and my brother—every Sunday. And I would talk to my little brother. Diego, his name was. He was a funny kid, always joking about being stuck in the wheelchair. Never complained, though. And he could see that I was unhappy. He tried to bring it up many times, but I’d always brush him off. I never wanted him to feel guilty. I mean, compared to his life, what was so very hard about mine, right?”
Noni shook her head. “There are a lot of different ways to be trapped.”
He smiled ruefully. “That is true.” He took a deep breath. “In spite of all the best medical care, in spite of everything I could pay for, Diego was still weak. His health was always precarious. He could catch a head cold and it would turn into pneumonia within a day. He had no resistance left…”
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“He died the year I turned twenty-five. The year I made partner. He developed a sore on his back—one he couldn’t feel—and it got infected and…”
He stopped talking for a moment, clenching his jaw. Noni slipped her arms around him and held him tight. He bent his face to her head for a moment, took a deep breath of her scent.
“Before he was gone, though, he made me listen. He told me that he was sick of seeing me so unhappy, that I couldn’t keep living the way I was living. That our father would have been so disappointed to see me this way. That I had to promise him that I would try to change things…”
He cleared his throat. Was quiet for a moment.
“I tried. After Diego was gone, I told Agustina that I didn’t want to work for her father anymore. That I wanted to work with the ponies again, that I needed to. She laughed and thought I was joking. When she realized that I wasn’t, she threw a temper tantrum and said that I would have to choose between her and the horses. So…I did.”
“I would have made the same choice,” whispered Antonia.
He looked away from Noni, remembering the expression on his young wife’s face when he told her he was leaving. The look of heartbreak and
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