//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Everything She Loves // by FeatherB //------------------------------// Chapter 5: A Few New Faces             Fillydelphia             It could have been worse, Redheart thought, standing on the sidewalk and stretching her limbs. After the incident with Doctor Zimmer the work hadn’t been exceptionally difficult, and nopony else had yelled nearly as loud as Miss Shale after that. In fact, the checkups had given Redheart the chance to meet a lot of local ponies, most of which were rather pleasant.             But now the hospital stood behind her bathed in the setting sun, and Redheart’s overcoat was fitted snugly over her shoulders. The wind had all but vanished, and the streets were bustling with other ponies heading home from work or out for a bite to eat. The smell of street-side hayburgers lingered over the crowd and made her stomach rumble. The only food she had eaten all day was the leftovers somepony had kept in the breakroom.             If only I had some bits, she thought crossly. Now her walk home would be all the more difficult. With a heavy sigh, she slipped into the wave of ponies headed down the street.             “It could have been better,” Redheart muttered when she finally reached her apartment block. There had been exactly six food carts on the streets she had went past, the worst of which had been a steamed carrot cart that had smelled so delicious she had to hold her breath just to stop herself from running over and eating one on the spot. If that wasn’t bad enough, walking the few extra blocks after being on her hooves all day had been enough to make her muscles cramp up. Now all Redheart wanted was to lie down on a soft bed and sleep for a week. But her bed wasn’t set up yet. The mattress wasn’t even arriving until tomorrow. And there was the matter of that writing on her wall… she wouldn’t put it past her landlady to have forgotten about cleaning it. So, with all that in mind, she took a seat on a bench by the corner and gazed out across the street.             The sky was streaked red and gold over the local bank and little flower shop. The apartments between them were coming to life with windows here and there framed by the lights inside. Near the top, a little filly looked out at her through the glass. Redheart waved and the filly waved back, smiling brightly before disappearing into her apartment. Distantly, a bell rang as somepony entered the flower shop. It wouldn’t hurt to go see it now, she figured. At least nothing would tempt her into a purchase without bits. Getting to her hooves, Redheart weaved around a few ponies on the sidewalk and waited while a taxi rumbled past before she crossed. As the green awning grew closer she could already smell the flora inside. Small traces of soil had been tracked out of the shop beneath a slightly crooked “open” sign which hung from the door. Redheart pushed her way inside, the cheery bell greeting her as she walked over the mat. The sight made her heart melt a little, and she couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. The shop was warm, lit by long hanging lights that had the hue of soft candles. Everywhere, potted flowers filled the spaces under them. They sat on green wooden tables and on the floors below them, in the corners on benches, and on the windowsill facing the streets. They weren’t organized in anyway like she expected, but mixed together in a chaotic beauty of reds, whites, pink, purples, and blues. Small puddles rippled beneath a few in the middle, drips of water still running along the sides of the ceramic pots. Redheart closed her eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring the loud protests from her stomach. It felt as if she was in some far-off land. The sweet, exotic aroma felt so out of place from the bustling would just outside. “Excuse me!” A mare snapped. Redheart opened her eyes to an elderly Pegasus with a basket of daises on her back. “I— I’m sorry,” Redheart stammered and stepped aside. “Hmph!” The old mare turned up her nose and went out the door, the bell jingling behind her. I guess a nice shop doesn’t mean nice customers, Redheart thought, drifting toward the flowers by the window. There were purple petunias on the sill. She recognized them from her parents’ house, where her mother used to always sit them on the table. She like them because they didn’t smell too strongly but were pretty to look at, unlike her new apartment space. Standing there she could see it across the street, marked by two empty windows. It’ll get better, Redheart told herself. After that horrid writing was gone and the rooms were furnished, it would feel more like a home. She had to believe that. And it was almost easy to picture it while she stood among the flowers, with the gentle sound of trickling water. But then it stopped for a moment, making her ear twitch, before starting up again much closer. Redheart turned to her left to find a cream-coated mare holding a small watering can in her mouth. She was tipping it over some daffodils on the far end of the still, trying carefully not to spill much, but doing so anyway. Redheart couldn’t help but watch her as she stood up on the tips of her hooves, trying to get a better angle, only to have the watering can slip out and clatter to the floor. “For Celestia’s sake!” the mare groaned, quickly stooping over to try and stop all the water from rushing out the top. But a large puddle of it slid across the floor and gently washed up against Redheart’s hooves. “Oh! I am so, so sorry, please have my towel,” she said, pulling out and offering what was more like a dish rag from the green apron she was wearing. Something stirred inside Redheart as she stood there, her eyes meeting the silly young mare’s with a rag in her mouth. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite grasp hold of, but made her a bit fuzzy all over, especially with those bright green eyes staring back at her. And that two-tone mane the color of… raspberries? No, that was her stomach thinking for her again. “Are you alright?” The mare asked after returning the rag to her apron. “I mean, I know you’re probably upset, but was there something else I could help you with? Please, I’ll do anything to fix this.” Right, speaking not staring! But what do I say? Anything, say anything! “I— that’s fine.” The mare blinked. “That is, I mean it’s okay, I’m not upset,” Redheart stammered, trying to look anything but that. Because I’m not! Why are the lights in here so warm? “Great!” The mare lightened up considerably. “So, you won’t tell the owner on me?” “No, why would I do that?” Redheart insisted, the sudden image of a scowling Miss Shale popped into her mind. “Well that’s a relief,” she said with a dramatic sigh. For a moment the mare turned away from her and looked out the window. “I guess you’re probably used to clumsy ponies at the hospital.” “How did you—” Redheart stopped herself as she saw her own reflection in the window. Her nurse’s hat was still perched atop her pink mane. “There’s a few, but I don’t mind.” The mare cast her a shy smile. “Thanks for understanding. It’s nice to meet somepony who’s willing to give second chances.” “That’s me,” Redheart laughed, and told the pony her name. “Redheart? That’s a perfect name for a nurse! I’m Roseluck. Did you always know you were going to help ponies for a living?” It wasn’t something she had really thought about. “I suppose since I got my cutiemark I have.” “Me too!” Roseluck turned out her hind leg so the rose on it was front and center. “I’ve always loved flowers, especially living in the city where ponies need something to brighten up their day.” Redheart’s face felt especially bright-red just then. But thankfully a weathered looking stallion happened to walk by at that same moment. He skirted around the water puddle that was now slipping down a drain in the floor, and didn’t pay the mares more than a sour glace as he went. “I better get back to work,” Rosluck said with a worried look over her shoulder. “Oh, alright.” Redheart’s tail drooped a little. No, don’t be ridiculous, you can always stop by. But why do I care so much? “Will I be seeing you again?” Roseluck asked, her hoof sliding under the handle of the watering can. Her heart skipped a beat. Yes! “Probably. I don’t live too far.” “Well, if you stop by I should be here,” Roseluck smiled before carrying off her watering can behind the next row of flowers. It took a minute before Redheart could feel her legs again. What had just happened? She couldn’t remember feeling so… giddy before. At least not since she had started packing for her move. The day suddenly seemed much more hopeful, even though it was almost over. On her way out, she noticed a crotchety elder mare sitting behind a desk with a sack of bits on it. The pony wore a green apron just like Roseluck’s. “Have a nice day,” the crone muttered with all the sincerity of a half-drowned sewer rat. “You too!” Redheart replied with genuine cheer as she trotted back outside, the bell ringing happily behind her. All the happiness in the world seemed to be sucked out of the air by Redheart’s apartment lobby. The only light within was from the landlady’s office, which seeped through the slats of her closed shades, casting shadows that looked like prison bars on the wooden floor. If it wasn’t for the meager glow that crept in from the outside windows, the vast room would have been impossible to navigate. Redheart shivered, picturing ghosts and strange unspeakable horrors that might lurk dark halls like the ones she now lived in. Everything is fine. You’re just overreacting again, she told herself while her hooves led her across the floor, the wooden boards creaking as they were tread upon. “YOU!” Readheart yelped, her rump hitting the floor as she covered her mouth. The landlady’s door had swung upon, showing the mare’s face twisted in a disapproving glare and framed by the backlight of her office. “Not even here a day and you’re already more trouble than you’re worth! How could yah be so careless?” What is she talking about? Redheart’s mind reeled. What did I do? “Unless yah did it on purpose” the landlady said, now circling around her. “In which case I would have yah thrown out of this establishment immediately!” What? No! “I don’t understand, what happened?” The landlady stopped her pacing and fixed Redheart with a cold stare, her brown curls sporadically out of place. “So, you’re just careless then,” the old mare huffed. “Fine, but don’t you expect any more favors from Mister Gorse. It’s going to take him twice as long to do all his chores now anyway. The last thing he needs to worry about is boobytrapped apartments.” “Boobytrapped?” The landlady stepped closer, her wrinkles turning her frown even more severe. “What else do you call leaving broken glass in a doorway!” My picture frame! “I— I didn’t mean to! Is he okay?” “Of course not! You can expect a bill from me within the week. Until then, clean up your own messes,” she snapped, then turned tail and shuffled back to her office. “And I better not hear any complaints about you from the other tenants!” she said, before slamming the door shut behind herself. Redheart fought back tears. “How could I be so stupid?” And just when her day had looked like it might turn out okay. She sniffled and wiped her eyes dry. There was no sense sitting in an empty lobby feeling sorry for herself. With a deep breath she dragged her hooves toward the stairs and started climbing them in no particular hurry. Will those horrible words still be on my wall? she wondered. Or what if there’s blood on the floor? She had seen it plenty of times at the hospital, but to have it in her home… The numbers “315” glinted in the dim light of the third floor. Maybe “home” is a strong word for it. “Hey there, Missy.” Redheart stumbled back, almost falling down the stairs. “Who’s there?” Her eyes darted to the right where the voice had resonated from. Sure enough, a crochety old stallion limped around the corner from the hall. His left forehoof was wrapped in white bandages that stood out harshly against his prune colored coat. “My apologies, I didn’t mean ta’ scare yah.” Redheart got back to her hooves, but kept her distance. “Are you Mister Gorse?” “Yah caught me,” he said with a smile that scrunched up his beady eyes. “But don’t you worry, I’m not here to yell at yah like my wife.” Redheart squinted back at him. “You’re married to the landlady? Then why does she call you, Mister?” He chuckled, showing a row of yellowed teeth. “Regalia don’t like the residents knowin’ the handypony is her husband. She’s ashamed of me, I suppose. Couldn’t hold a job of my own and ended up workin’ here, you see.” Redheart’s gaze lingered on the stallion’s bandaged hoof as he spoke, her gut twisting into a knot. “Hey now, don’t yah fret about that,” Mister Gorse said, tucking up his leg out of sight. “Accidents like that happen all the time round here. When you’re movin’ fragile things about, stuff gets broken, that’s how it goes.” “I should still apologize,” Redheart said softly, “If I hadn’t left in such a hurry this morning, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Mister Gorse shook his mane. “Water under the bridge, mah lady. The only reason I waited here for yah was to say there was no harm done. You can rest well tonight knowin’ I’ll be just fine.” He stepped back as if to leave, but Redheart reached out to him. “Would you at least let me take a look at it?” The old stallion laughed again. “No sense in wasting the time. If the handypony can’t take care of himself, then what good is he?” Helping somepony is never a waste of time. Redheart knew that from experience, but she wasn’t about to try and dissuade him. “Well I best be goin’ now. Next time you need something done, leave a note under my door; room 116. What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said with a sly wink. The hall felt a bit gloomier after Gorse trailed out of sight, even with his awkward gait echoing across the walls. Redheart couldn’t remember another day where she had experienced so many mixed emotions. It would be a relief when the only surprises she had to worry about were birthday parties. Or friends coming over to visit, she thought with a sigh. Then, with a bit of difficulty, Redheart pulled her room key from her overcoat and unlocked the door. Inside, she flicked on the light, and her far wall greeted her as a blank slate. It was as if the words had never been there at all. So, he did it after all, she thought with a smiling spreading across her face. The crooked lamp had also been straightened, and a certain family photograph had been reframed and lain carefully atop an unopened box. With great care, Redheart scooped up the picture into one of her hooves, then dug into an adjacent box for a granola bar or two. After woofing them down in a rather un-ladylike fashion, and licking her lips, she strolled across to the windows. On the other side of the street she could see the lights still on from the flower shop below. A mare walking by glanced up at her from the sidewalk, so Redheart waved, remembering the filly who had done the same. But this time the pony outside did not wave back. She quickly looked away and hurried down the street, past the bank and out of sight. Redheart shrugged. Not every pony was bound to be as friendly as a foal. Stepping away from the glass, she placed her family portrait on the window sill and admired the brave little pink and white filly that smiled back at her. Mom and Dad were so proud when I told them about this job. Sad… but proud. She would definitely have to send them a letter soon, once everything had settled down. At least that way they wouldn’t— “That’s odd,” Redheart muttered. She dragged her hoof along the sill, pulling a short strand of green hair from it. Mister Gorse’s mane was grey, so it couldn’t have been his. That meant she had been right, after all the accusing the landlady had done to her for being careless, she hadn’t even cleaned her apartment. Figures, she huffed, and let the hair float to the floor. Turning around and heading for her room, Redheart pulled the nurse’s hat from her head. It would be good for the day to be over. All she wanted now was a good night’s sleep and a fresh start. Through the door, the empty bedframe in her room waited patiently beside the single box of bedside accessories she had opened the night before, alarm clock included. Redheart sighed. Or maybe just a fresh start.