so the kids would be available for any bit of work, or an audition. I was amazed by how many smart young actors I saw in set schoolrooms who couldn’t sound out a three-syllable word. I’d met a fifth grader who’d never heard of long division but went on to earn an Academy Award nomination. One of the girls on Little House wasn’t allowed to leave the classroom until she could spell prairie . She had to have lunch brought in. It was an unusual life, and one that I had only one foot in, I realized, by comparison.
Mom, on the other hand, took a two-pronged approach to the lull in my work life. She’d either take to her bed in a fit of depression or throw us headlong into a hobby. Right now, she was doing a bit of both.
In the meantime, Tiffany had checked out of most of the activities we used to do together, except riding, which she passionately loved. She had graduated to ninth grade, where she exercised her independence and grappled with the awkwardness that came with being a teenager. I had grown almost as tall as her, but she had fully developed, which only added to her shyness. Her posture had changed. She seemed to have rolled inward, physically and mentally, withdrawing from our family.
Tiffany rarely went on auditions anymore. It had been ages since she’d really worked. I hadn’t considered that there’d come a time when she wouldn’t act at all, and I was alarmed to see show business evaporating from her life, which I hadn’t thought possible for either of us. Riding felt like the last thing we shared.
When we got to Foxfield, Tiffany and I took off for Pony Island to get our horses. Pony Island was a series of barns on the other side of a ravine. To get there we walked down a path to the water and jumped from rock to rock. When it rained heavily, the ravine turned into a roaring river that surrounded the barns, hence the name. We liked to imagine that someday we’d get stranded there indefinitely with our horses, unable to cross back to the mainland.
Mom had bought me a huge chestnut mare named Alondra with a stunning flaxen mane and tail. She had also bought a gorgeous Palomino mare for Tiffany a few years earlier, but Alondra was the first horse that was really all mine. She had tall white socks and big white stripe down the center of her face. Alondra was both spirited and spectacular, and turned out to be way too much horse for me, but I’d loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her at a show in Santa Barbara. She would gallop and stretch out her neck while shaking her head to loosen my grip on the reins, and though it sometimes felt as if she were out of control, I never got too scared because I knew deep down she loved me too and wouldn’t hurt me. Unlike most horses, she came when I called her. We had an understanding.
Tiffany grabbed the lanky bay she’d been riding lately when she wasn’t working out Duchess. She rode stronger and jumped more bravely than I did, but I rode in a younger age group with less competition, so I’d won more ribbons by now. Tiffany didn’t seem to care. She’d gravitated to a faster, more rebellious crowd at Chaminade Prep, the Catholic high school she attended, and suddenly wanted to do things with friends on Friday and Saturday nights rather than have dinner at home or ride horses with me. Recently Mom had forced her to take me along on one such weekend outing. That’s when I realized there was more going on than I’d imagined.
Mom had dropped us off at Magic Mountain with Tiffany’s new friend Dina. Tiffany said that Dina, who had a pretty face, wheat-blond hair, and an hourglass shape, rated among the popular kids at their school. I still went to elementary school and didn’t really get what that meant, but I could tell it was something valuable that Tiffany wanted. We ducked into the bathroom inside the park gates to fix our hair and figure out what we wanted to carry around the park with us and what we wanted to shove in a locker.
“So
Mom, on the other hand, took a two-pronged approach to the lull in my work life. She’d either take to her bed in a fit of depression or throw us headlong into a hobby. Right now, she was doing a bit of both.
In the meantime, Tiffany had checked out of most of the activities we used to do together, except riding, which she passionately loved. She had graduated to ninth grade, where she exercised her independence and grappled with the awkwardness that came with being a teenager. I had grown almost as tall as her, but she had fully developed, which only added to her shyness. Her posture had changed. She seemed to have rolled inward, physically and mentally, withdrawing from our family.
Tiffany rarely went on auditions anymore. It had been ages since she’d really worked. I hadn’t considered that there’d come a time when she wouldn’t act at all, and I was alarmed to see show business evaporating from her life, which I hadn’t thought possible for either of us. Riding felt like the last thing we shared.
When we got to Foxfield, Tiffany and I took off for Pony Island to get our horses. Pony Island was a series of barns on the other side of a ravine. To get there we walked down a path to the water and jumped from rock to rock. When it rained heavily, the ravine turned into a roaring river that surrounded the barns, hence the name. We liked to imagine that someday we’d get stranded there indefinitely with our horses, unable to cross back to the mainland.
Mom had bought me a huge chestnut mare named Alondra with a stunning flaxen mane and tail. She had also bought a gorgeous Palomino mare for Tiffany a few years earlier, but Alondra was the first horse that was really all mine. She had tall white socks and big white stripe down the center of her face. Alondra was both spirited and spectacular, and turned out to be way too much horse for me, but I’d loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her at a show in Santa Barbara. She would gallop and stretch out her neck while shaking her head to loosen my grip on the reins, and though it sometimes felt as if she were out of control, I never got too scared because I knew deep down she loved me too and wouldn’t hurt me. Unlike most horses, she came when I called her. We had an understanding.
Tiffany grabbed the lanky bay she’d been riding lately when she wasn’t working out Duchess. She rode stronger and jumped more bravely than I did, but I rode in a younger age group with less competition, so I’d won more ribbons by now. Tiffany didn’t seem to care. She’d gravitated to a faster, more rebellious crowd at Chaminade Prep, the Catholic high school she attended, and suddenly wanted to do things with friends on Friday and Saturday nights rather than have dinner at home or ride horses with me. Recently Mom had forced her to take me along on one such weekend outing. That’s when I realized there was more going on than I’d imagined.
Mom had dropped us off at Magic Mountain with Tiffany’s new friend Dina. Tiffany said that Dina, who had a pretty face, wheat-blond hair, and an hourglass shape, rated among the popular kids at their school. I still went to elementary school and didn’t really get what that meant, but I could tell it was something valuable that Tiffany wanted. We ducked into the bathroom inside the park gates to fix our hair and figure out what we wanted to carry around the park with us and what we wanted to shove in a locker.
“So
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