The Song

Author's Note:

Wow you guys, I was not expecting something of this magnitude of feels to come out of me, but dammit, here we are. I am so sorry you guys.

In this AU Shining is six and Twilight is maybe two. I don't really know why I pictured them in that age, I just did. My mind is weird, but you all know that.

Platinum is my OC. I just wanted a fresh voice for Velvet to hear from. She's got her own story buried way back in my stories but I haven't updated in a long time.

Hats off to the song "Waterproof Mascara" for partially inspiring the song in this fic. But make no mistake, the song is mine, and unless I give you permission to use it, don't touch it. You know the drill.

Check yourself before you wreck yourself with this one, folks.

Writers are supposed to have words for everything.

It’s the hazard of our profession. We think we have to have words to explain everything because it’s what we get paid to do. So when a situation arises where we can’t find the words, it’s a source of major contention for us.

I cannot find words to describe what I am feeling right now, and it adds to my frustrations. There are words I could use- Anguish, heartbreak, fury, compunction, and grief- but none of them are right for this feeling. I’ve looked at the dictionary trying to find a word that sums up how I feel, and I cannot find one. If there was one word that could explain this, I’d write it a million times over, hand it to somepony and say, “This is not even a smidgeon of what I feel now.”

I sit at my writing desk, staring at my typewriter. It has been both enemy and friend to me over the years, depending on the day. Today, it plays a different role. I am looking at is as a release valve for my emotions. Usually I’d just tap at the keys, writing nonsense until something with meaning came up and toss the last paper aside, but this time is different. There is no room for nonsense anymore. Not since he walked out that door, and left me and our children.

Night Light packed his bags two weeks ago. He was leaving me, he said, for another woman. I wasn’t passionate anymore, I wasn’t wanting adventure anymore, I wasn’t enough anymore. I was dumbstruck by it. But this wasn’t about me. What about the kids? I’d asked. Couldn’t he see how this would destroy them? He hadn’t replied. My guess is that he knew it would, but he couldn’t afford to care, because if he did, he might lose his nerve. As if he had any. The coward.

He walked out that door, and left me there, with no warning, no financial support, and no goodbyes.

I’d lost it. Thank goodness Twilight and Shining had been at a playdate or I would have terrified them. I’d wept for what felt like hours before it was getting close to time to pick them up. I’d gone to my makeup drawer, one I rarely got into, and pulled out a tube of waterproof mascara. I did my makeup in hopes of my children not noticing my bloodshot eyes, or the puffiness below them. They, mercifully, were too little to notice.

About a week after that, I’d gone to see a friend.

I took a seat at my friend Platinum’s kitchen table, staring into my teacup.

“What’s on your mind?” She’d asked.

“My kids. I love my kids so much. I'm so sorry they have me as a mother…” I said softly.

“Velvet, you are a great mother.”

“No, I'm not. I can't do it. I'm so tired of feeling like a failure. It's so humiliating. How didn’t I notice that he didn’t look at me the way he used to? How didn’t he notice my fear? And what kind of father hurts his kids like that? But more than that, what kind of mother am I that I just let this happen? What are my kids going to see when they look at me? I was the woman who saw a dozen little signs that this was coming and I turned a blind eye to it because I was afraid that would make it real. But by doing that, I did exactly what I didn’t want to do. I made it real. I can’t do anything right. I tried so hard to protect them from this, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. And I helped create something that destroyed their memories of our family.”

“No, you didn’t.” She’d said softly. “He did. His choices were his. This was going to happen whether or not you called him out on his behavior, and it’s because this was something he chose. You didn’t do anything wrong. And a father who would hurt his children in this way is no man at all. You’re dealing with this as best you can. You just need some help.”

“That's what's so humiliating. Other moms don't need help with this. Other moms make it look so easy. All I do is complain.” My voice had been shaking.

“That’s not true.” She’d said sharply. “My ex abused me for two years and because I didn’t ask for help, I lost a child. I never asked, and I lost what was most precious to me. And even now, when I have a fiancé, he’s touring somewhere and I’m taking care of my kids. And it’s not easy. Honey, I use their nap times to cry. I go out of my mind because I feel so overwhelmed. You did something I never did before. You asked for help. You understand that you need it. I didn’t and I almost lost everything. And even when I ask now, it doesn’t come easily. You’re doing just fine.” She’d promised.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” My voice broke and tears began to trickle down my face under the weight of that burden.

Platinum went to hug me. “Oh honey… Nopony likes to admit they can’t handle the pressure. We think it’s so much easier to keep it all inside because we’re moms and we’re supposed to be strong and protect our kids from everything. But sometimes we do it so much that we even do it with each other.”

“We shouldn’t. We should tell each other these things.” I’d sniffed.

“It helps when you’re feeling overwhelmed, huh?”

“Yeah. It really does. But I’m so afraid because If I'm overwhelmed now,” My voice had broken. “What’s going to happen when I have to go back to work? My focus is all over the place. I love what I do and writing is great but... it can't pay the mortgage. My kids have already lost one parent, they shouldn’t lose the place they should be able to call home when they have nowhere else to go.”

“Don't worry about it. I want to eliminate your mortgage and pay your bills until you get back on your hooves.” She’d smiled at me.

I was utterly shocked. “What? I can’t-“ But she’d cut me off.

“No. I want to help you, and I am. This is the best way I can do it. My heart is absolutely breaking for your kids, Velvet. They’re going through something I went through as a child and I can’t… It’s hard for any kid when a parent leaves. They need to know that they still have you, and a place to go. You still have the greatest gift any of us will ever get. Cherish your kids. Hold them. Tell them how much they mean to you and that it will be okay again. They need you, Velvet.”

“No.” I’d choked, the weight of the world crashing upon me. “They don’t need me. Nopony does. I’ve felt it for a long time and Night Light leaving just confirmed it. I can’t do anything to fix this for them. I keep thinking it would be easier if they were littler and they didn’t understand any of this. Because if they got upset I could just hold them, cuddle them, kiss them, and I could fix it immediately. But it’s not that simple now. I’m so afraid. I’m useless. I can’t live without them. They’re the last thing I cannot bear to lose, and it’s better if they’re away from me. That way I can’t hurt them anymore than I already have…”

“That is not true. Honey, they model themselves after you. That doesn’t stop. They look to you for how to deal with things or to get your advice, or how to do small things around the house. And just like they need you, you need them. You need to be reminded of the ones you fought so hard for. You said you couldn’t do anything right? Well that’s wrong, because you did two things exactly right and they are waiting for you to get them later on. Even though you can’t fix this, you can help them, and feel like you fixed something because you tried. Just hold them. Be with them. Protect them and make them feel as safe as you possibly can. They might not appreciate or understand now, how hard you tried to protect them. They don’t understand. They think they can do everything on their own and don’t need your help anymore. But they do, they just don’t understand that you don’t stop protecting them because it’s your job. And someday they will understand and appreciate it, and when they do they’ll thank you. Because as hard as it is for you, it’s terrifying for them. You cannot lose sight of your mission. Don’t lose your perspective, honey. You need to remember that the best things in your life are those two kids. They already lost one parent. They cannot lose another. You may have lost a love, but you have your kids. You can do it on your own. You are strong enough to. With your children's love, and good friends, you can make it on your own.” She’d said strongly.

“You really think I can do it?” My voice had been tearful, tremulous.

“I know you can.” She’d smiled. And suddenly I felt less alone.

I pulled Platinum into a hug, and Platinum was happy to reciprocate it.

“What do you do when the dream you’ve lived for ten years comes crashing down?” I’d asked her.

Platinum pulled back from me. “Dream a better dream. And make it your own.”

I’d felt better, talking about it to somepony. But I had no idea how to talk about this to my kids. I still don’t. So I want to try and write something to help me figure out what to say. I’d been having this staring contest with my typewriter for half an hour. I was- I am- losing.

I push back from my desk, hearing the chair legs scrape against the hardwood floors. It’s an unpleasant sound, but one that either means great joy or great disappointment for me. Today would be the latter. I decide to resume this staring contest later, and go to the kitchen to make myself some tea. In the hall I pass some pictures of myself and my children. Twilight as a baby, Shining as a toddler, Christmas mornings, and happy memories. It took me until now to realize that he wasn’t in any of those pictures. How could I have let that stand?

I recriminate myself for that as I pour water into a teapot, and put it on the stove to boil. I saw all those signs. I just didn’t put them into words. Another hazard of being a writer is knowing that words are powerful, and sometimes when you speak them, they become real. So I’d held my tongue. I’d held it through the long business trips, the extra hours at the office, the “weekends with the boys” that I now see were nothing of the sort. While he’d done all of this, I’d stayed home to care for the kids.

I’d given up everything to take care of my kids. When my son was born, I didn’t write a word until he was maybe twelve months old. All of my energy went to him. There had been complications after his birth, and he’d been in an incubator for six weeks. It had been a wake up call for me. I had, of course, planned to stay home, but I’d thought that I’d write a bit on the side. I saw now that that was not an option. I’d nearly lost my son to complications the first time, and I didn’t dare miss a second of his life. I’d devoted everything to him, to make sure I didn’t miss a thing as he grew up. I’d done the same for my daughter’s first year of life, and it had been tricky because I’d had two children to balance.

There was a disconnect between my husband and my children. How I didn’t see the severity of it is beyond me. I used to think he wouldn’t play catch with my son because work was hard. I used to think he wouldn’t get up in the night to care for my daughter because he couldn’t hear her. He didn’t spend time with my children.

How blind was I?

I say my children, rather than our children, because I realize now that I have been raising them alone this entire time. Their father may as well have just been a sperm donor.

The teapot whistles, and I take it off of the burner, making myself some tea.

My kids… What am I going to tell my kids? The thought is terrifying. Though I have absolutely been raising them alone by most standards, they know their father isn’t here anymore. Why shouldn’t that disturb them? Children thrive with routines and structure. Daddy not coming home throws off quite a bit of that. Though my resentments of Night Light are many, the one thing I will be grateful to him for is giving me the most precious gifts I have ever recieved- my children. But how I can tell something like this to my children, I have no idea. I don’t know how much they’ll understand.

They know something is wrong already. I can see it in their eyes. Their questions, their nervousness. I want to calm them, and say everything is okay, but I’d be lying to them, and I cannot do that. Night Light’s deceits have already damaged this family enough, and I cannot bear to do anymore damage with lies. The truth might hurt for a while, but eventually they would understand why I was honest. A lie would cause a blow up down the road. I can’t have that happen. I’ve been caught between a rock and a hard place because of one stallion’s idiotic decision. He’s been pulling me along in his charade, but our children were the rope, being pulled tauter and tauter, damaged no matter who won. And I don’t know what I can do to try and help them.

I am so angry at my husband. I want to scream at him, and strike him, because I am infuriated. Look at what you’ve done! I want to scream. Look at what you’re putting your children through, and for what, your own selfish needs? And that is exactly why he did it, too. Night Light hadn’t wanted to grow up. He still wanted to be the hotshot young accountant with a cool girlfriend and a rising star in his firm as he had been when we’d first married. But while he’d retained that mindset, I’d grown. When my children were born, something else mattered more to me than adventures or passion or excitement. Two little lives were depending on me to guide them and help them. I couldn’t let them down. But he couldn’t see past the youth he wanted to reclaim. It was just a disappointment. And now I had to clean up his mess one more time.

All of this creates a perfect storm of inspiration. I leave my teacup on the table and hurry back to my office. The typewriter has now lost the staring contest as I press upon the keys. It’s not a journal entry- it’s a song. Music has been another great medium for me. And when I can’t find the words for a story, sometimes I will listen to, sing, or write a song. It doesn’t surprise me that a song is pouring out from me. Finally, I can express my feelings.

“The tears pouring down my face
Are some they’ll never see
How can I be strong for them
If I can’t do it for me?
The clouds came in, the rain came down
And I wasn’t prepared
To see him just walk out the door and leave me standing there

They look at me with questions, The words they cannot say
And I don’t know how I will tell this story to them someday
How do I break the illusion that story always ends well?
Because when I think of him right now, I can’t do anything but yell

I wear my waterproof mascara so that they never see
Just how their Daddy leaving is totally destroying me
Children should be children, they should be without regret
Not full of memories they wish they could forget

I try and keep things normal, try to keep to the routine
But they can sense something wrong with everything they’ve seen
They ask me constantly where he is, and then they ask me why
And when I hear their voices I just want to cry
How do I bring myself to tell them just what went wrong
When I know that in doing so I can no longer be strong?

I can try and fix the damage up
Tell her that she’s still enough
But I know it won’t mean very much
She’ll never get an example to see
What gentlemen should really be
And it tears the heart right out of me

I can try and help him be a guard
Teach him how to cook, or fix a cart
But I know in my heart it will never be enough
It breaks my heart that he’s missing out
On what being a man’s about
It’s something even I can’t teach him now

And I wish I could forget…”

I take the paper out of the typewriter.

There is nothing left to say.

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