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“Have you been having a bad time, Ava?” I ask her, trying to inject my tone with an empathy I don’t quite feel.

“What do you mean?” she asks, pivoting her head toward me.

“Have you been feeling unwell?” I ask softly, as I stare at the road ahead, peripherally taking in the bleak late winter landscape of brown grass and naked trees.

“Are you being ridiculous, Attila?” Ava asks sharply.

“What do you mean ridiculous?”

“Don’t tippy-toe around me. You’re asking if I’ve been particularly nutso lately and the answer is yes, I have. I have missed my husband and it has done bad things to my containment device.”

“Your containment device?”

“My body. My brain chemistry. You know me, Attila. You know that change affects me unfavorably.”

“That’s not true, Ava. And half the time you were the one instigating major changes. Like sleeping with other people.”

“Let’s not discuss that.”

“Why not? You’ve kidnapped my girlfriend, Ava, and let’s not forget that the only reason I ended up in someone else’s arms was you, your behavior. And I don’t just mean your sleeping around. You are mysterious, Ava. For years you have kept yourself hidden.” I glance over at her. Her lips are parted. She looks very young and terribly sad.

“She’s really your girlfriend? You tell people that?” she asks with a pout.

“She’s a very kind and good person. We never discussed exactly what we were to one another. But I don’t want her hurt. I have already hurt her.”

“You have?” she asks, hopeful.

“I have. Because I could never be hers. Not completely.”

“Because of me?” she asks, a note of triumph coming into her voice.

“Something like that,” I say. I feel myself gripping the steering wheel tighter.

She knows that all will be restored between us. The love and hate, the passion and sickness. For better or for worse, we are bonded.

BY THE TIME we reach the outskirts of Saugerties, night is falling. For the last half hour I’ve been unable to speak. I’ve kept my eyes on the road but this hasn’t prevented the images from coming. Images of Ruby. All the good that she represents. It was meeting her and feeling her faith in me that caused me to clean up my act and stop holding horses back. Sure, I’d been feeling like shit about it for a long time, but it was Ruby who made me want to come clean. It was Ruby who guided me to winning that last race. And I’ve done nothing but bring her harm. A sick feeling spreads through my stomach like ink in water.

“There,” Ava says, indicating a steep driveway, “it’s there.”

I pull in and negotiate the winding, ill-paved way. Tall trees stand vigil all around.

We pull up to a small white frame house. A light is on inside and, no sooner have we gotten out of the car, than a man emerges from the house. I’ve seen him before. At the track. I never forget a face. Particularly not this one. It’s not the most distinguished face but it’s troubled. He has worried eyes, a full but tense mouth and a long fringe of dark hair. He is holding a small gun which he has aimed at us.

“Ben,” Ava says to him.

“What do you want, Ava? What’s he doing here?” He motions at me with the gun.

“I tried to explain, Ben. I’m sorry, I misled you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Rightly so, Ben,” I try intervening. “Ava doesn’t always know what she’s doing,” I say, at which my wife gives me an icy look.

Ben does not look appeased.

“Where is Ruby?” I ask him.

“She’s fine,” he says.

“She’s in the house?”

“She’s there. Out back, in the cabin.” He motions behind the little house. “But you’re not going to see her until I have some assurances about my horse.”

“Who is your horse, Ben?” I ask him softly.

“You know who my horse is. You were gonna ride him. And hurt him.”

“I don’t know who your horse is, Ben. Can we please come in and talk?”

The man hesitates. His mouth is half open. His worried eyes are searching us.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, “all right. You go first,” he adds, indicating that we should walk in front of him. He follows, herding us