The first few days had gone by in a haze. Colter had kept his promises, the flight had been paid for, a taxi had been waiting for me at the airport, and he had arranged a hotel not far from where he lived.

Acclimatizing went rather okay. I enjoyed the gorgeous scenery of Canada. With those high pine trees, scattered along ice blue lakes, with rocks and leaps and animals we surely didn't have in the District in England. I had taken many walks already, sorting my thoughts. I still stood by my choice, and hadn't regretted it one bit, was sure now that I had made the right choice. I felt free, free from the past, free from the trauma, free from death, free from Papà. Free to reach for the things I was passionate about. I could finally breathe. It was what I was telling myself, at least.

I had not seen Colter much, the first days after I had arrived. He was busy with the preparations for the try-outs, but he had invited me to another show, where he had given me a ticket for an after-party afterwards.

Besides Colter, I had not met anyone from that world, and I wasn't quite sure what was expected from me at the party. I had only known the British and Italian etiquettes. So, without much thought, I pulled on beige trousers, and a brown sweater with a v-neck, rubbing my hand through my hair to not make myself look so stiff.

When I arrived at the after-party, I realized I had made a very wrong choice. Everyone appeared in lumberjack blouses tucked into denim trousers, hats in either their hands or on top of their heads. Many dirty hands held beers, the smell of cattle and horses reeked around the area, sweat hung in the air.

To say I was embarrassed was an understatement. Colter made it worse. When I saw him at the party, he laughed at me, loudly, roaring. "Would you look at that! I flew you over to be a cowboy, remember? Not to be a.. yeah, what are you, anyway?"

Instantly, I felt vexed by him for that comment. "Was there a dress code on the invitation? I don't think so, so mind you, I can wear whatever I want." I scoffed.

"Colter!" Another man roared in laughter. "The accent, too. Man, you really have to prove yourself, nobody will take you seriously." The slur in his voice betrayed that he'd already had one too many. And the party had just started. "Nobody told me this was an Aristocratic party."

"Just to give you a taste of when I'll be the winner." I didn't turn my eyes away from the drunken man.

Colter frowned, landing his hand on my back with a harsh thump, to which I stumbled forward a little. "Don't get ahead of yourself, little boy."

My eyes had rolled to that. He sounded too much like Mr. Wood. When the laughter had died down, and the attention wasn't so much on me anymore, I turned to Colter. "I appreciate the stay at the hotel, but I was wondering.. I have been here for a few days now and I can't extend my stay due to other guests, do you know somewhere where I can stay permanently, or perhaps, somewhere where I can rent?"

Colter sighed, downed a glass of beer. "Actually, my caravan is up for rent. You can stay the night, if you want, we have a spare bed." Colter handed me a glass of beer. I guess my first glass wasn't going to be with Papà. I huffed.

"Sure." I said, downing the glass like Colter did. It made me cough, to which he laughed again.

"I gotta teach you a lot of things, I suppose."

At the end of the night, I had spoken to several people, they told me the ins and outs of the Canadian cowboy life. And the more I got to know, the more I craved for it, the more I longed for it. I was sure that this was what I wanted. That it was what I had wanted for my entire life, and that it was something that Papà had always held back from me. That he had held back my happiness for me.

It was also that at the end of the night, I couldn't stand on my own feet, anymore. My popularity increased with every glass I swallowed down, it loosened me, I talked about the Italian liquors, the wines I had secretly tasted with Nonno e nonna. The failed missions about becoming a cowboy in England, at a young age. About the food I loved so much. I was talking nonsense, and everyone was loving it. They were curious about the new 'cowboy' Colter had made me out to be.

When it was far over midnight, Colter dragged me towards their caravan. I couldn't think straight, I liked everything. "Thank you soo.. much." I slurred, standing still to vomit out all of the alcohol I had taken in. "Scusa." I chuckled slowly. "Am I turning into a real cowboy, now?"

"We will see about that." Colter grinned softly, pushing me inside. "You've barely survived four beers. That's one thing that's gotta change, yeah."

"Oh, sure. So many brands to try still." I let myself fall down on the bed, not realizing, in my state, that a wife and a daughter were sleeping on the bed Colter shared with them.

I fell asleep instantly. When I awoke in the morning, the first things I noticed were that my throat was extremely dry, my head was pounding enormously, and my clothes reeked of alcohol. Slowly sitting up, I realized that my beige trousers were stained with, well, I couldn't tell. But I knew that I would never be able to wash it out.

When I looked sideways, my heart skipped a beat. With horse toys scattered all around her, was a very young girl, seated upon the floor. Dark blonde, curly hair framed her face, rosy cheeks. She was already staring at me, her brown eyes wide.

Then, it hit me. I had let go of myself completely, and for myself, I didn't quite care, but if she had seen this all, it really wasn't okay. Even though I had just turned eighteen, my parents had taught me better. To be responsible.

Mamma liked drinking wine, and Papà, well, he had picked up on drinking the Italian liquors, but they had both resented drunkenness. "But remember this, Beniamino: Wine is a mocker, strong drink is a brawler, and whoever is led astray by it is not wise." Mamma would say, squeezing the tip of my nose whenever I would talk about the day where I could finally try the wines and liquors.

Was it my conscience? Their voices screaming inside my head? Telling me what to do, or what not to? My own norms and values? I realised there was a lot I had to learn about myself.

"Hello." The girl said, after minutes of staring at each other.

"Ciao." I answered slowly, quickly scanning the caravan. No Colter. No wife, or whatsoever. The area was small, with a tiny kitchen right next to the door, with a bigger bed beside it, which could be turned into a sofa with a small coffee table. A small door on the left. I figured it had to be a toilet, or well, I hoped so. My bladder was screaming at me. but before I gave in to that, I looked down at the girl again. I felt ashamed, even though I was sure she had no idea of it. She didn't look older than five years old.

"Where are your parents?" I asked her, unsure if she would understand.

She shrugged. Kept eyeing me.

Did he really leave me all alone with this little girl? She felt like my responsibility now, which I didn't really mind, but, who would do that? "What's your name?"

"Georgie." She said. After a while: "Are you from fries and fish land?"

"Chips and fish, indeed." I stretched my legs, stood up from the bed. "Do you live here?"

"Sometimes." Georgie answered, playing with the plastic hairs of a toy horse. "We have a house. But daddy wants to live with the rodeo sometimes."

I nodded my head, scanning the area. Colter was truly nowhere to be seen. "Where is your mother?"

Georgie shrugged again. She said no more after that. I found out that the small door, indeed, led to an even smaller toilet, and a spray that would represent a shower. It would do for me. When I got dressed and smelled fresh again, I left the tiny bathroom, my eyes widening when I realized that Georgie was gone.

"Georgie?" I called out, frantically looking around the caravan. She truly was nowhere to be seen. "Georgie?"

The door slammed open, whiffs of bacon hitting my face. "What's that with you calling my daughter?" Colter looked irritated, his eyebrows narrowed.

"Well, you left her here all alone, so I felt responsible for her for a moment there." I snapped, my pounding head not allowing me to think a little before I spoke.

"She's fine. And her mother was just around the corner." Colter mumbled out, eying me. "Breakfast is ready. Outside. And we really need to do something about your clothes."

I looked down at my denim trousers, forest green North Face zip up hoodie. Wasn't that more casual? I sighed. "Colter, I apologise for entering your caravan in the state I was in last night. I truly did not want to confront your daughter with my.. well, drunken state."

Colter grinned. "Whatever. She brings my special drinks to me all the time, yeah." He ruffled Georgie's hair, who smiled brightly as she nodded. I think that was the first time that he made the little hairs, that were on my arms, stand up straight.

The second time that he managed to do that, was with the try-outs. He had given me plenty of chances to practice, and I had taken it on with both hands. Sometimes he glared at me during practices, but I wasn't entirely sure why. Sometimes he walked off, sometimes all he did was complimenting me, which contradicted the other things he did. I realized I did not know this man at all, yet, I had put all my trust in him.

That trust was damaged deeply on the day of the try-outs. I woke up feeling ready, I was sure I could put something out there that was worth it. But when I entered the stables across the caravan, no horse was seen. I frowned, wondering where Colter's horses were. I had been practicing on a Quarter Horse named Harry, and I was almost certain that he had told me that I could use him.

Colter showed up around the corner not much later. He didn't mention anything, just greeted me with a small nod.

"Colter? Where is Harry?"

Colter scanned the empty stables, looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "What about him?"

"Well.. the try-outs are today, remember?" Colter frowned, his expression seemed puzzled. "Had I mentioned anything about lending you a horse?"

Panic and rage fought roughly inside my body. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Look, Benjamin.." Colter leaned with his hands on the top of the broomstick. "Don't you remember the deal we made? I bought your plane tickets, would arrange a spot for you in the try-outs, and from there, we would see what would happen. Did I mention anything about lending you a horse? I'm sorry if that's what you thought I would do, but I'm not some sort of Santa Claus who stuffs everything upon your plate. I hope you understand that. And by the way, I gave you a place to live and sleep, and introduced you to all the people that could help you much further from where you are standing now."

Was he trying to talk the guilt upon me? What was he doing? It didn't feel fair to me, but at the same time, I knew he was right. He had never mentioned anything about the animals I could use for the shows or try-outs. It wasn't right from me to just expect that. Perhaps, it had been too naïve to expect that all.

"But.." I swallowed thickly. It tasted bitter. "Does this mean I can't enter the try-outs?"

"Don't worry, there will be a new round in a few weeks." Colter shrugged, holding up his hand to stop the profanities and protests that were leaving my mouth. "Hold up, I promise I will help you find the perfect horse for the try-outs, one of your own, isn't that what you always wished for?"

Gratefulness and displeasure both wanted to come out of my mouth. "Do you hear yourself? Do you hear the promise you're making right now? So you cannot come to me with the story about the deal we had made in the first place?"

"Aye, calm down there." He raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Wood wasn't lying when he mentioned the Italian temperament that lies within you."

"How do you know him, anyway?" I ignored his comment, forced myself to calm down a little. The mentality hadn't always made many friends. I thought of Nolan, who hadn't always liked that side of me, either. I thought of primary school, who had been on the verge of kicking me out, multiple times. About Papà, whom I had hurt various times with my outbursts and spewing words.

"There was just one cowboy in your little village. Hard to miss that." He answered. "Well, I have to go. But if you're free tomorrow, I will take you to a pal of mine. He's selling one of his mares. More than suitable for your profession."

Of course I'm free tomorrow, I scolded in my head. I couldn't enter the try-outs. Back in my caravan, I lied down on the bed, clenching my jaws in order to swallow away the wetness that appeared in my eyes. I felt childish, but my hopes had been so high, my future had been so close, and within one moment, it was gone.

Or so, it felt.

---

Benjamin in Canada, starting up a new life. How do you feel about it?

What will happen?

Him being drunk? Georgie?

Do you think he will make his dreams come true, or are all these things false hope for him?

Let me know your thoughts! X Jo