//------------------------------// // Memories, Bittersweet Memories on the Shelf // Story: My Little Heartbreak: Meanwhile, Back at the Farm // by Jet_Black1980 //------------------------------// Chapter Two Memories, Bittersweet Memories on the Shelf. The following week didn’t have anything terribly eventful going on in it. Just cleaning up more of the mess I made. By the time the end of the week rolled around, I just wanted to take a rake, pull everything into a pile - like autumn leaves - and set the whole thing ablaze. Part of me wanted to do that. But each paper, each drawing, each short story, attempt to express myself in any way, shape or form, triggered a memory. The memory of camping at Mystic Lake here, the hollyhocks that grew next to my childhood deck in the trailer park there, the mountain line of my hometown done up in a weird panorama, even a long lost forgotten memory of the forest behind my trailer house when I lived in New Port. Thankfully, there aren’t any people in these drawings. Sure, there were animals. Cats, dogs, rats, squirrels, fish, and other four legged furry things, but no people. I am very relieved at this. Seems that Yu did have some sway over what Mi drew. There are, of course, ponies everywhere. There are scenes from the first two seasons of Friendship is Magic scattered all over the library. Most of them are hidden behind other drawings, kept tucked away like little easter eggs waiting to be found. Twilight and her friends face down Nightmare Moon, Fluttershy talking down a dragon, Rainbow Dash speeding down with a sonic rainboom behind her, Pinkie Pie smiling and bouncing around, Applejack bucking apples. There is even an attempted drawing of Rarity sewing up a dress. Every one of these is a cherished moment, some exciting scene all played out in graphite. With each drawing, with each memory I pick up and look at, I am reminded why I liked this show so much. It’s almost like I needed to dump out the contents of my mind and sort through everything. There are a lot of good memories that I found throughout all this. But there are also a lot of bad ones. I’ll admit that I didn’t have a terribly scarring childhood. Not physically anyway. It wasn’t like my mother’s childhood. Her emotional baggage carried with it scars that I dare not think. She had an alcoholic father, divorce, and even rape. I was fortunate enough to be spared most of these things. Mom and dad did divorce when I was a teenager, but everything else? I was lucky. Part of that however was living in my own little bubble. I ignored those things that were harmful to others, until they actually affected me. But the cycle of abuse is one that affirms itself in other ways. I got a lot on the end of punishment when I was a kid. Spankings and standing in the corner to make me think about what I had done were popular in my household. There are two incidents that stand out vividly in my mind. It had to be when I was seven or eight years old. Those years were rather significant years for me. It was when I became more aware of the crap that was happening around me. When I realized that my parents were flawed people. I think that most children figure that out when they are about that age. Those who don’t are either blind, have the best fucking parents in the world or lack parents to begin with. But most of the time it was standing in a corner, other times it was with a belt, on one rare instance, it was bed without supper. I remember a time when I had been outside playing and when I came back in the house, there were a few drops of urine on my underwear. I don’t remember how the whole of the situation came down, but somehow my pants got tugged down. She looked at me and asked “What’s this?” or “How did this happen?” I shrugged and said “I guess I was having too much fun?” Looking back, I think she thought I was being a smartass. I got a paddling for that. It was with her hand, but her favorite tool for spanking was a wooden spoon, the kind that you stir kool-aid with. One time, I think I was taking too long with the dishes. She got frustrated and upset with me. She took out the wooden spoon and started with the spanking. I’m not sure on which blow it was, she must have gotten at least three good hard smacks in before the spoon broke on my ass. At that moment, I wasn’t sure whether or not I should have been happy, impressed or scared. I went with scared, but that’s not what my mother saw. No, she saw some glimmer of joy in my eyes. Some sort of happiness, or some sort of sense of accomplishment that said, “Ha! I broke your spoon! Now what are you going to do?!’. She only took out the other spoon and continued her punishment. I found these memories - these sharp, stinging memories - tucked safely away under a mattress, along with other pleasantries. Things like judgment, scorn, shame, and isolation. I shouldn’t complain though, other kids have it worse than me. “Like you have it sooooo bad.” That was my mother’s favorite phrase to me. She would say it in a condescending manner. A way that was meant to soften things, but at the same time it was a carefully veiled threat of some kind. The hidden, silent, snaking voice of ‘don’t make me make it worse. I could make it so much worse.’ “So much worse, huh mom?” I say out loud. “I would like to see how you could do that.” I cringe. That statement is just begging to be played with. There is always a way that it can get much worse. And when you say it out loud, ‘Much Worse’ generally pokes its little ugly troll-face head through the door or window. All the while saying “LOL! You rang?” Twilight and Spike have been out for the day. It was nice of them to let me have a little time to myself, what wasn’t so nice was Twilight putting a spell on the door so that I couldn’t leave. Not like I could open the door by myself anyway. Opening doors is still presenting a challenge to me. “Right,” I sigh. “Comparing situations with your mother about who has it worse isn’t going to get the papers off of this bookshelf, H.B. It’s time to stop having the ‘pity me’ party, and time to get back to actually cleaning up the mess.” In front of me is a wall of papers. It is a strange combination drawing, where little bits make up the whole. Each sheet of paper is a drawing unto itself, but when looked at from a distance, you see a whole other drawing emerge. I am not sure what it is, but it makes me wish I had a photographer here. The weird abstract piece from a distance looks pretty sweet. It’s a shame that I have to pull it down. The magic fades from the door behind me and it opens. “If you say so Spike.” Turning around, I try to put on a smile and act the part of a more confident pony. No sense in depressing others with my memories. “Twilight! You’re back, how was your day?” I sigh, I feel like I could have made more progress on what I could have accomplished for the day. Twilight looks at me oddly, but then returns my smile. “All things considered, pretty good. We stocked up on some much needed supplies. After all, having you live here, well, I’ve had to adjust to compensate for groceries and other expenses.” She’s explaining it in a matter of fact sort of way, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a burden. Great, now I am feeling a bit more moody again. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Having me here...” I am fumbling on what I want to say. I don’t want to sound like my mother. I really don’t. I don’t like the way that she would put things so snidely. Rolling her eyes constantly and saying something that felt like she was pushing others away. Ironically, my dad called her a social butterfly. I really don’t want to turn into my mother. But really, who does? “I hope I’m not too much trouble, Twilight.” Spike looks at Twilight disapprovingly. Twilight blinks and then gives a unnerved smile back. “What I mean is that it is an adjustment. Feeding another pony, plus there are other little things that we need to buy for you. “ I cringe some more and rub my face. “Twilight, you don’t need to buy me things. Really, I’m happy with my sketchbook, my hat, and my pencil. I don’t really need anything else.” “What about personal hygiene supplies? Because really, you don’t exactly smell like a rose after a long day,” Spike replies sourly. Twilight looks Spike and rolls her eyes. “Spike.” He returns her look. “What? I’m just saying.” “And there are other little things I picked you up. A blanket, a pillow and a towel,” In through the door floats objects. “I don’t know what soap or shampoo you’re used to, so I got something that was practical.” She floats a bottle of shampoo up to my nose. It clicks open. “Smell this and tell me what you think.” I sniff it. “It smells kind of minty,” I reply. “Do you like it?” she asks. I think about what I am going to say. If I say that it is ‘ok,’ then she just might get in a fit over me saying that it is ‘just ok’. If I say fine then there’s the same problem. “It smells really good, Twilight.” I look away a bit. “T-thank you for buying it for me.” Please let that be the correct answer. Twilight smiles and the bottle floats away. “You’re welcome, H.B., I also bought you a shower brush.” I smile weakly. “How much has all this cost you?” I ask. “Close to somewhere around fifty bits,” she replies. “F-f-fifty bits? Twilight, I might not know the Equestrian Exchange rate, but I am pretty sure that’s a rather large amount of money.” I really, really, really, really don’t like that Twilight is spending money on me like this. Some people would love it, but I’m feeling really weird about it. I mean, I love spending money on others, but when it comes to others spending money on me? I feel that I am in their dept. “To get you back on your hooves and back in harmony, H.B.? It’s worth it.” Twilight replies. Spike looks rather satisfied at this conversation. I’m kind of left feeling a bit touched. You’d think that I would be getting used to that feeling. After all it is just a feeling. An emotion of happiness at the thought that others are thinking about you. But before all this, I had trained myself to laugh at emotions that others would call ‘sappy’. I don’t want to diminish what Twilight has done for me by laughing at it, so I quickly shake off the feeling, “So, what’s for dinner?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. I really don’t want to go any further into this awkward and rather unpleasant territory. “Well, how do you feel about pasta?” she asks me. I can feel my ears involuntarily perk. “What kind of pasta?” “Spaghetti pasta,” Spike quips up walking up to me. “Twilight here got some tomato sauce, bread, garlic, seasonings and olive oil at the market.” My mind kind of goes blank at this, as if I don’t know how to react. It’s Italian; Twilight is cooking Italian for dinner. “Garlic?” I finally squeak out. “You don’t like garlic?” Twilight asks. Her eyes close half way and she gives me an ‘are you serious?’ look. “I mean I understand if you don’t, there are some ponies that just can’t stand the stuff. But rea-” I interrupt her. “What? Are you serious? I love garlic! Particularly roasted garlic.” I close my eyes and think back to dinners past. “Mmm, roasted garlic smeared on bread with a little salt...Or even just a whole bulb of garlic sliced in half and rubbed against a piece of crisp toast? That’s good eating!” Suddenly I realize that there is something cold dribbling down my chin. I’m drooling. “Oh geeez...” “Ha! See, Twilight?” Spike elbows me. “The way to any mare’s ‘heart’ is through her stomach!” “Ha. Ha. Spike.” I lift my arm up and wipe the drool from my chin. “I just happen to like garlic,” I look away from the two of them. “A lot it would seem.” “There’s no need to feel embarrassed, H.B.,” Twilight says, snickering a bit. “I’m just glad that you approve of tonight’s dinner choice.” “I’m just glad that it isn’t grass, or something grass based,” I reply. I cringe after realize what I just said. Darn it, it must have sounded rather cynical. Twilight gives me a look. “You know, I have been avoiding grass based foodstuffs for the past two weeks right?” I look at the ground and sigh. “I noticed, I-I didn’t mean to say that, Twilight. I guess I was trying to be funny,” I reply rolling my eyes. “Or something like that.” Twilight closes her eyes and sighs a little. “It’s alright, H.B.,” she finally replies. “How about I start dinner and you start on getting these papers off my bookshelf?” Twilight asks me. I must admit, I am feeling a bit excited that we are having the Equestrian equivalent of spaghetti and meatballs. Well, minus the meatballs. Next to tacos, it was one of my favorite comfort foods as a kid. “Right!” I nab one of the papers out of this collage of papers that cling precariously on the bookshelf. Doing so sets off a chain reaction that causes all the papers to fall. It is a rather interesting cascade effect to the whole mess. I kinda smile a bit. But that smile dissipates when I see the expression on Twilight and Spike’s faces. Turning my head I see what has gotten the two of them so horrified. The books. Books on a bookshelf, that’s no surprise. What is a surprise and what sends feelings of panic through my being is how these books look. The books are arranged in nothing that could be called short of chaos. There are books that are toppled, laying crooked, upside down, open, and in the worst case there are a few dozen that were ‘inside out’. I know how Twilight feels about books, any brony knows how she feels about books. Twilight fucking loves her books. I am frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. An audible squeak comes out Twilight’s mouth. “What...what happened?!” A cold chill travels up my spine as I realize that if a shelf is screwed up like this, then chances are, they are all screwed up like this. “I’m n-not sure!” “I am just going to go out on a limb here, but I am guessing that when H.B. was on her tea induced craze, she felt the need to rearrange your books, Twi’,” Spike concludes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Twilight retorted, angrily. “I didn’t mean to do this! I swear!” Turning around, I start pulling books off of the shelf in an attempt to fix the problem. “I’ll fix it! I’ll fix it!” What was I even thinking when I was on that stuff!? “Don’t bother,” Twilight says, curtly. “But-but...” I begin. “There are books on the shelf that you can’t reach, and you have enough trouble lifting up a drinking glass. I’ll take care of this after we eat. You just keep cleaning up the papers,” she says walking into the kitchen. “I will call you when supper is ready.” I drop to the ground again. Her words cut me, particularly the part about the drinking glass. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. I am so sick of feeling like a failure in all this. I feel so limited, so trapped, so annoyed. I look up at Spike. “She’s mad. I know she’s mad.” “Well,” Spike scratches the side of his head. “She’s more peeved than mad. I mean the whole situation last week has been bothering her. But hey, at least she didn’t explode, right?” I sigh and rub my face. “Right.” Things were going good for a few moments. I felt like me again. Sure, it was over something as simple as roasted garlic, but that was something, right? “You should go help Twilight with dinner, Spike.” “Alright, H.B., but cheer up! It could be worse!” Spike says as he walks through the door. I am once again left alone with my thoughts and memories still scattered on the floor. “That’s what I am always afraid of.”