Sisters at Heart

by Lunatone

Chapter Eight: The Party

Sisters at Heart

Lunatone

Chapter Eight

The Party

I didn’t speak to my father until sometime next week. Vinyl and I had just finished our lunch, another serving of freshly grown fruit, and Dusty was doing the dishes. I, accompanied by Vinyl, was walking upstairs, going to my room, but then I ran into my father on the staircase. Vinyl went ahead of me so that I could speak with him alone. I asked him if he would like to do something today.

“It’s a sunny day,” I said.

“I can see that,” he replied.

“Would you perhaps like to see an outdoor play or a music show? It might be fun to spend some time together.”

He was descending the stairs, and I was following him. “You go do something with Vinyl.”

“I wish you’d come along,” I said to him.

“I got work to do,” he grumbled.

I paused. Silence. Then I spoke up. “What did I do to make you so…distant, Father? Can you please tell me? Why don’t we talk anymore? All you do is stay in your study, either alone or with Bon Bon.”

“You haven’t done anything, Octavia. I just have work that needs to be done and I cannot be disturbed. Do you understand?”

“I suppose…” I said.

“Good. Now go play with Vinyl.” He went out the front door, after which there was a quiet click.

I froze in place. A wrath thundered in me, and I wanted to break down the front door, chase after him and tell him off. Tell him that he should be with me instead of being all alone in his study. But above all, I wished he would reconsider his priorities, give me the time I deserve to be with him.

I went to my room, and Vinyl was sitting on my bed. I fell on her, buried my head into her chest and cried.

§

After I had that encounter with my father, I tried as hard as I could to minimize our paths from crossing. I did this because, when he was around, everything in the air was siphoned out, drained, leaving it airless and dry. My chest would contract and I wouldn’t be able to breathe, and my mouth would wither, leaving me unable able to speak. I would stand still in the airless bubble trying to suffocate me, and wheeze for whatever air was left—and I would use my will to speak, but only indecipherable slurs would come out my mouth.

But even when he wasn’t physically around me, he was still there. He was my father and I was his daughter. His blood was inside me, coursing through my veins, essentially keeping me alive. Sometimes I wished I could cut myself open and drain his cursed blood out of my body, despite how violent that might seem.

Early that autumn, a few days before the new school year started, Jazzmere decided it would be a good idea to have my cello cleaned and polished; so he and I sat in his study while we performed this task. Now that I thought about it, my cello hadn’t been cleaned since first semester of last year. My father always told me that I should be cleaning it at least once every three months, but I never did.

It was hot, humid, and sticky in his study, and Jazzmere was squatting next to me, trying to polish the base of my cello. He was telling me that one of the best ways to keep a cello in divine condition was to use oak wood polish on it. Then he told me how ponies believed using regular polish was the way to go. I listened intuitively, bobbed my head as he spoke and cleansed my instrument.

Later on, his voice dwindled as he became more focused on the polishing, and there was awkward silence in the air. I hated it. But then I came right out and asked the question that had been scaring me ever since that night. “Jazzmere, how would you feel if Vinyl and I were together?”

He stopped everything, dropped the cloth and scowled. Removed his glasses. Did I just enrage and stun him? “I beg your pardon? What did you ask?”

I swallowed a mouthful of muggy air. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

He grunted. “Now, why would you ask such a question?” His voice was full of anger and disgust.

“Because I would like to know, I guess. It was just a question, Father, there’s no reason to be angry.” My voice had faded into a suppressed murmur, and I already regretted asking him.

“You want to know how I would truly feel if you and Vinyl were together?”

“Yes, I would,” I said.

“I would condemn it,” he said, his voice harsh. “And I would be disgusted if you two were together. You are growing up with Vinyl. She is like a goddamn sister to you. And for you to even consider having an intimate relationship with her is just plain wrong.” He turned to me, and his face was as red as blood. “I’ve never laid a hoof on you, Octavia, but if I ever catch you doing something of this nature, or if you ever ask me this question again, so help me Celestia and Luna.” He pulled away from me, looked away. Shook his head. “I hate to say this to you, Octavia, but you bring me shame. Lots of it. Don’t even reconsider on being with Vinyl. We clear?” He put his glasses back on.

My ears drooped down like the leaves of a willow tree, and I looked down with tears pooling in my eyes. My hoof subconsciously scraped against the carpet underneath me.

“I said, are we clear, Octavia?” His voice was loud, angry, and serious. I could tell that he was genuinely angry, and that scared me the most. And because of that I didn’t say anything. “Answer my question, right now!”

I flinched, drew back. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry I even brought this up.”

“You and Vinyl will never have anything special together because the only thing you two will have is a good friendship and sisterhood.” He picked up the cloth he was using to polish my cello. Then he stroked it harder than necessary. “Never ask me this again.”

“I promise I will never ask you that question again.” Sniffles left my nose after I spoke.

We cleaned the rest of my cello in utter silence.

§

When the school year started, I was glad. Glad that I didn’t have to worry about running into Jazzmere at the house. But I was also dismayed because of the little time I got to spend with Vinyl. Homework was always something that came between us. My father had put very strict rules in place come this school year. I had to finish my homework first before I could go out and play with Vinyl. Ever since I asked Jazzmere the question of Vinyl and I being together, he had done things differently with me, put new consequences and rules in motion.

On school days, Jazzmere had his personal drivers transport us to my school. They drove down the cobblestone lane that lead to the entrance of the school, which was a three-story building with a modern look and feel to the place. The playground was mostly constructed of cobblestone as well. When Jazzmere dropped me off, he just drove away without saying a farewell.

The students on the playground had new backpacks, new notebooks, and sharpened pencils. Many were kicking dust into the air because of the sheer excitement for the start of the new school year. I was the quiet, distant, and reticent pony on the playground. The only thing I did was daydream about Vinyl.

When the bell rang, all the students, laughing and talking, marched forward into the building, filed in pairs. I sat in the front row, and, as Crazy Strings handed out our music textbooks for the year, I hoped that I didn’t get any homework on the first day. Homework was another unnecessary evil that I hated. And for the first little while, I was pretty occupied in learning the fundamentals and principles of music.

Later in the year, the leaves began to change colour, and it was the start of autumn. And one day, sometime in October, I asked Vinyl to come sit with me under our yew tree. Told her I wanted to do something special for her. She was drawing something on a piece of paper, and I saw her zeal by the way she hastily drew the lines to complete her art.

When she was done, we trotted to our special place. She asked me about school, what I was learning, and I spoke about my mindless teacher Crazy Strings, considering that he had no idea how to teach a class. She laughed at what a fool I made him out to be, and said that she hoped that I didn’t listen to anything he taught us, even though I had to believe some of it—otherwise what would be the point of me going to school?

When I had done my share of talking, I stared at her. Then told her something she would never believe. “So, I asked my father how he would feel if you and I were together.”

Vinyl’s eyes widened. “What did he say?” Her face was beaming.

“He said he would condemn us for being together. He said we will never have anything special together because, according to him, you will be nothing more than a friend and a sister to me.” My tone was dejected and heartbroken.

“That’s a load of horse apples,” she said. “We love each other more than sisters. And we always will.”

“I know, Vinyl. Which is why I don’t care what he says anymore. He can’t stop me from loving the pony I am meant to be with. And if he can’t accept it…well, he might just lose a daughter because of it.”

We sat against the tree, in the shade, rendered by the gyrating branches that moved about in the wind, and arils fell on us, rolled on the ground. Rather than having our favourite feature of our tree rot away, we collected them, put them in a pile, then removed the black seeds in the middle. Once they were safe to eat, we ate the ones we could salvage, but some of them tasted bitter since a few of them were overripe.

When we finished eating the good ones, I knew that now was a good time to put my plan in motion, the surprise that I had for her. I stood up. Smiled at her. “Um, Vinyl, could we maybe sit behind our tree? I would like us to do something.”

Vinyl’s smiled never faltered, only gained momentum. “Sure thing.”

When we were behind the tree, we were completely concealed, and had all the privacy we needed.

“What’s up?” Vinyl asked. The colour on her face brightened up after she had asked her question. Adjacent to her, there was a fallen aril that she picked up, removed the seed, and started to eat it. I knocked the aril out of her hoof and lunged forward. She was dazzled and taken largely aback. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

I was sticking to her chest like honey. Her fur was warm and tender, which only added to my reason for not getting up. “Kiss me, Vinyl,” I said. Vinyl looked from the ground back to me.

“Kiss me,” I said again. Vinyl did kiss me—and I could tell that she had no regrets—but she withdrew shortly after. She just stared at me, smiling, looking like a dazed stallion who just won the lottery when, only moments ago, he found out his house would be taken from him because of overdue mortgage payments.

Vinyl slammed her lips onto mine, eliciting a moan from my mouth. Then she planted her tongue in my mouth, and I could feel it against my own. I didn’t know how many times our tongues swirled around, getting tangled. All I knew was that, when we were kissing, our tongues entwining, my thoughts of reality vanished, and I had no hint, no sign, no trace of the stallion my father would become one day for whom I would have nothing but hate.

Eventually Vinyl broke the kiss, and I couldn’t blame her because we were both panting, in need of air. We collapsed abreast, on the grass. Looked at each other.

“Wow…” Vinyl said, gasping for air. “That was awesome and all, and I have, like, zero complaints, but what was that for?”

“I wanted to prove myself wrong,” I said.

“I don’t understand.”

“When my father told me that you and I would never have anything special, a part of me believed it. And, for about a month, my mind wouldn’t stop pondering if it was true or not. So I brought you here to prove myself wrong. Prove to myself that what we do have is real love.” I paused, looked at the sky. Thought about what I was going to say next. “And you know what…I’m going to tell my father that you and I are together. Eventually. And if he doesn’t like it, so be it. He can hate me all he wants, but it will never change how I feel about you. Ever.”

“But I thought your father said that he would always love you. Remember before the summer started? He said that. I know he did.”

I pulled back, glanced back Vinyl. “He made it perfectly clear that he would hate me if you and I were together. I got that impression. Sometimes it’s the pony you know best that you actually know the least.”

“Well, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. Oh, and my father, too. He supports us.”

“And I am grateful for that, I really am. I just wish my own father could see who he really is…”

I put my head on Vinyl’s chest, let the tears break free. She let me cry into her chest, rocked me back and forth.

“We’ll get through this, Octavia. Just wait and see.”

§

I turned eleven later that autumn. Things between Jazzmere and I began to cool down a bit, and I was thankful for that. If I recall carefully, the main reason why it all started was because of the absurd question I asked him—hoping he would understand—the day we were cleaning my cello, about how he’d feel if Vinyl and I were together. I truly did regret asking him the question, yet I think, even if I hadn’t, the happy little interval would have ended. Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended so soon, but, like everything, it would have.

Near the start of November, breakfast and dinner time no longer consisted of silverware scraping against the plates, but rather of laughter and chatter because Jazzmere didn’t retire to his study come those times. A part of me was satisfied that he was no longer distant to me, but, at the same time, I wondered why he wasn’t distant. I thought about it, then I realised it was because my birthday was in the month of November, which meant one thing: a party.

And my father’s memo for a party was to have everyone in Equestria attend, or else it wouldn’t be a party. He did this so he could gallivant to the attendees of how much of a maestro he was, so he could be praised for all his accomplishments, even though the party was about me growing up, not about him. I recalled viewing the invitation list a week before my birthday, and not recognizing one-third of the ponies who were going to bring me gifts and congratulate me for having lived eleven years, that were coming. In reality, I wouldn’t be the star, it would be my father.

There was a party planner named Pinkie Pie, supposedly one of the best party creators. She showed up with all sorts of party attributes. She decorated the entire backyard with a large banner that read “Happy Birthday” and balloons. “This is going to be the superest, most awesome party ever!” I remember her telling me. I had never seen a pony so enthusiastic about making a party happen.

She climbed the yew trees with coils of bulbs that had fireflies glowing different colours, wrapping the coil around the tree. Then she set up tables, all around, with table clothes. Once her business was done, my father paid her and wished her a farewell. I had to admit, though, the decorations for my party were memorizing.

On the day of the birthday party, I was responsible for greeting the guests personally, and my father made sure I did that, since he didn’t want ponies to gossip about him raising a pony without proper manners and respect. I was forced to hug total strangers, kiss them on the cheek, give them my blessings, and thank them for the gifts they brought me. I thought all of this was completely unnecessary as I didn’t need all the gifts that were being brought for me.

Right now, I was standing next to Jazzmere, near the pool, when somepony said, “Happy birthday, Octavia.” My heart clenched and sank into the void. Bulldozer. His parents. His friends. They were all here. Bulldozer’s father, Arrowsmith, was bulky and tall and his mother, Goldspear, was of the same nature.

Bulldozer was standing between his parents, a grin marking his face, his hooves aggressively scuffing the grass. He walked toward us, and the look my father had was unimpressed and ashamed. When he was face to face with us, my body became dizzy, trembled with fear.

“How is my favourite gal doing on her eleventh birthday, hmm?” Bulldozer asked, grinning. I didn’t say anything to him until Jazzmere prodded me.

“I’m, um, doing well,” I said. My voice projection sounded unconvincing, almost dead.

“So, then,” Jazzmere began, “I was told by my daughter that you made some absurd comments of how I care for her. Care to explain all that to me, Bulldozer?”

Immediately after my father’s question, I interjected, gave off a half-suppressed laugh. “Now, now, Father, this party is a celebration, not about interrogating our guests here,” I said. My heart was beating faster than I could recall. My father looked at me. Smiled. Nodded his head.

“Octavia is right,” Jazzmere said. “This is a celebration, not a place to ask questions on something that is irrelevant. My apologies, Bulldozer.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he said, his cheeky grin never faltering. Goldspear’s face flickered and her eyes shifted from her son to me. She grinned at me too, and it made me very uncomfortable.

“Still play rugby, Bulldozer?” Jazzmere asked. If it was one sport my father was into, it was rugby. I always thought of it as being a sport with unnecessary roughness.

Bulldozer still wore that smile, and he was directing it to me. “Certainly.” He still kept his gaze on me, and I felt like I was being choked.

“I wish to come and watch you play sometime,” Jazzmere said.

“Always pleased to meet a fan,” Bulldozer said, his voice loud and bold. He winked at Jazzmere.

My father blinked back, then said, “I like how confident you are. I always knew your father would never give up on parenting their filly.” Jazzmere prodded Bulldozer’s father with a hoof, though he barely moved on contact. There was laughter in the air, though it was barely convincing, and I wondered if my father was actually scared of Bulldozer and his parents. Bulldozer’s parents weren’t the ones renowned for their kindness or compassion, and that was something Bulldozer truly lacked. I pretended to smile and laugh at the conversation that was being made between all of us, but I knew Jazzmere didn’t buy it.

Bulldozer kept staring at me, smiling, as per usual. Then he spoke up. “So, Octavia, I guess it’s time for me to give you your gift.”

Hearing that didn’t make my mood on the situation any better. “Well, that is really, kind of you, but—”

“But nothing,” he said.

Then his mother interjected. “Bulldozer, you didn’t get a gift for her. Why would you lie about it?”

Bulldozer snickered. “Oh, trust me, I have a gift for her. It’s the biggest one she will receive from anypony tonight.”

I swallowed a mouthful of air, fretting of what was about to come.

§

The party was still going on strong. Jazzmere had brought out the cake for me, our guests sang happy birthday to me, and I blew out the candles. Made a wish. After that, Vinyl and I sat under our tree, lit up by fireflies trapped inside a transparent plastic ball, and ate a piece of cake. I hardly exchanged words with her because my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about what Bulldozer had said earlier.

Right now, Vinyl was talking about how awesome this party was, and how it would be a night she would never forget. I listened, bobbed my head regularly, but my mind came back to Bulldozer. From afar, I could see Bulldozer with his parents. He was laughing amongst his folks, and I wondered what he was talking to them about, whether he was talking about me.

Meanwhile, Jazzmere was accompanying the guests with small talk and jokes. Next to him was Bon Bon. She had made it to the party right before the lighting of the cake. When I noticed her presence, my once bogus smile transformed into a genuine one. It had been sometime since Bon Bon and I last spoke, and I hoped we would be able to catch up while we had the chance. I always hoped that we would talk. In many ways, I saw her as a motherly figure when she was around.

Right now, she was looking in my direction and made her way over to me to say a few words. “Octavia, happy birthday,” Bon Bon said. “It’s nice to see you again. You as well, Vinyl. It’s been awhile hasn’t it?” She sat in front of us, her smile never faltering.

“It most certainly has,” I said, returning a smile.

“Here.” Bon Bon gave me something. “I could never forget your birthday, Octavia. Happy birthday.” It was a pink bowtie attached to a collar. I rubbed the bowtie with a hoof. I smiled at the gift. “I thought it would suit you quite well, Octavia, with how sophisticated you are.”

“It’s lovely,” I said. “Thank you, Bon Bon.” I gave her a hug.

“Anytime,” she said. “Anyways, I have to head off for the night, but I will definitely come by to see you more often.”

I smiled. “I look forward to seeing you again, Bon Bon. Later.”

“Goodbye you two.”

When she left, Vinyl spoke up. “Hey, Octavia. I have a gift for you.” She handed me something, just like Bon Bon had done. I tore the wrapping paper from Vinyl’s present and my eyes began to water as I tilted the glass frame in the firefly-light. It was a portrait of Vinyl and I. “My father helped me put it together. We went through some old pictures of you and me, and I picked the one I thought you’d like the most. He got the frame and everything so—”

“Oh, Vinyl, I love it!” I hugged her aggressively and she returned the gesture. I pulled back. “It’s the perfect gift. Thank you.” I was going to kiss her right there and then, but somepony was calling out loudly.

We hurried back where all the guests were standing in the yard, their attention seized by something. The guests chattered quietly to their neighbours, wondering the reason for the cause of disruption. Once Vinyl and I were able to pinpoint the source, a pang of insufferable horror struck me down, left me terrified. It was Bulldozer screaming aloud, trying to get everypony’s attention.

“Everypony, everypony! Can I get your attention, please?” Bulldozer called aloud. His parents were amongst the crowd, as was Jazzmere, and, by the looks of it, none of them tried to stop him from disturbing the party. “I wanted to get your attention, mainly because I want to give a toast to our birthday girl, Octavia! C’mon, give her a round of applause.” He saw me in the crowd, grinned at me as everypony, expect Vinyl, cheered for me, bursting into applause with each second passing. It was hardly necessary to say the least.

“Thanks, everypony,” I said dryly. I faked a smile.

“That’s the spirit,” Bulldozer said. “Now, then. It’s time for me to give Octavia her gift. A gift of humiliation.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Jazzmere said, charging in. “I won’t have you make a scene here, Bulldozer.”

“A scene? I’d hardly call this a scene. This is more or less payback for those two easy lesbians over there.”

Everypony, expect Bulldozer’s parents, gasped in horror after Bulldozer had spoken those words. My heart sank into a bottomless pit of fear, and I had no idea what to do. I looked at Vinyl, who was scowling, grinding her teeth in anger. Then my father went right up to him, stared him down as if he were an enraged dragon.

“What did you just say?” he asked him, his voice loud and angry. “What did you just call them?”

“I called them easy lesbians. And I’m not wrong either. In fact, I’m completely right. Why don’t you go and ask your daughter about the little thing they got going on between them.”

“You little…” Jazzmere was about to attack Bulldozer, but I quickly moved toward him, yelled for him to stop.

“Father, stop it!” I said. My voice cracked, sounded hoarse. “Attacking him won’t do anything.” Why was I defending Bulldozer? Maybe it was because I didn’t want to see anypony get hurt, regardless of differences or hate I might have toward them.

“It just might set him straight,” Jazzmere said, only centimetres away from Bulldozer’s face. The crowd was silent, watching in anticipation as the scene carried on.

“He’s not lying you know,” I said. I knew, at that moment, now was the time I had to be honest with myself and to my father. I not only owed it to myself, but I also owed it to Vinyl. I promised that she and I would have a life one day, with or without my father, and I couldn’t do just that if he didn’t know the truth.

Jazzmere released Bulldozer from his glare, focused on me. Looked less angry, almost sympathetic. “What are you saying, Octavia?”

Vinyl and I exchanged looks and we nodded. Together. Then we walked up to my father. Sweat trailed down my temples, and I was terrified of what was to come. Pulling myself back together, I said what needed to be said. “Father…Bulldozer is right. Vinyl and I do have a thing going on between us.”

Jazzmere’s sympathetic look turned into anger, enragement. “Are you telling me that you two are together?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. And I hope you can learn to accept it, Father. Because Vinyl and I love each other…more than sisters would. And nothing can change the way I feel about her. If you can’t accept it, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to live with it.”

The crowd whispered amongst themselves, and exchanged shocked looks to their neighbours, and I wondered if they were talking about my courage or stupidity.

“Well, I can’t live with it. It’s wrong for two ponies of the same gender to be together, and I condemn it!” he yelled. His tone of voice was beyond angry at this point. “You are no daughter of mine. How could you do this to me? Now everypony here knows that I am the father of a lesbian. You bring me shame. Both of you. Especially you, Vinyl.”

Dusty dove into the scene, stood in front of us with a scowl upon his face. “Don’t you speak to Vinyl like that, Jazzmere.” He turned around to face the crowd. “Everypony, the party’s over. Please leave.”

Once the guests had vacated the premises, we resumed the heated conversation inside. Vinyl never left my side throughout all of this. Jazzmere was pacing back and forth, his hoof on his head. Then he spoke up. “Dusty, how could you side with them? It’s disgusting, and it’s not right.”

“Are you really that blind not to see the real truth here?” Dusty said, his voice calm.

“Blind? You’re the blind one, here,” Jazzmere roared.

“They love each other, more than sisters ever could. Can’t you see that?”

“No, I can’t. There’s no such thing as ‘real love’ between two ponies of the same gender. It’s all a pretence.” My father looked at Vinyl, scowled at her. Vinyl took a step back, as did I. “You influenced her, didn’t you, Vinyl?”

Vinyl didn’t say anything.

“Answer me, damn it!”

Vinyl was trembling, her eyes closed.

“You have no right to talk to her like that, Father,” I said. Anger rapidly built up in my throat, and, within a matter of seconds, I couldn’t preserve it much longer. A burst of rage erupted from my mouth. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of the way you treat me, Vinyl, and Dusty! For the past few months, you have been nothing but distant and cold to me. You show me no love or dedication of fathering me, your daughter. And on top of that, you don’t tell me what’s wrong, what you’re feeling, and I can’t take it anymore. You expect me to have all of these expectations of being successful, but how can I do it if I don’t have you supporting me? Bon Bon is more supportive than you for Celestia’s sake.

“And the sad thing is, Dusty has been more of a father during these past few months than you have been for the ten years of my life. I hate you, and I wish you were never in my life.” I ran off, tears pooling in my eyes. At the corner of my blurred vision, I saw Vinyl running after me. We went up the stairs and into my room. I collapsed and cried harder than I ever have in my entire life. Vinyl held me close, rocked me back and forth.

I could hear Dusty and Jazzmere arguing downstairs through my hollow door.

Dusty: “Jazzmere, in all the years I’ve known you, this is not you.”

Jazzmere: “Then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

Dusty: “I guess I don’t. Turns out the Jazzmere I once knew doesn’t exist anymore. The Jazzmere I know now is nothing but a stuck up prick who insults his own flipping daughter.”

Jazzmere: “Oh, go to hell, Dusty. You know nothing, and your paltry words and insults also mean nothing.”

Dusty: “I’m moving out tomorrow. And I’m taking Octavia as well, seeing as she hates your guts.”

Jazzmere: “Good. I’ll be glad to be alone in this Tartarus-forsaken house for once.”

And all was silent.

And that was the night that made me who I am today.

Comments

[Lazydrill]

Personally, I like fics with families in them. So I'm going to give this a go later on today!

Sir, I have a good feeling about this fic!

[Lunatone]

6077721

Hey, thanks a lot, bud. I really appreciate it.