Grace had stopped modelling after I let her go and had turned her hand to acting. She had done things like adverts and commercials before, but after I fired her she went into the movie industry. From what I have heard she was very very good, but I never took the time to go to the movies to see her. I don’t doubt that she was a shining star, that girl could do just about anything she wanted, if she applied herself.
When I arrived in Manehattan I had very little trouble locating her house. After all, despite the size of the city, there is a finite number of places that would suit the lavish styles of a billionaire former model like Grace. There, on Orange Blossom Road stood her house. No, house is the wrong word. Mansion equally lacks the power to describe the glorious architectural masterpiece that she lived in.
The tall wrought iron gates stood proudly in the midday sun, their hinges squeaking slightly as the gentle breeze bid them to drift lazily. The impressive garden leading up to her front door was covered in all manner of beautiful flower, from roses to lilies, marigolds to tulips. Despite the bite in the autumn air, the plants of her garden seemed to believe it was still spring. Birds flitted from tree to tree in a beautiful kaleidoscope of natural beauty, their shrill voices echoing to each other like lovers calling from a mountainside. I turned to face the Manehattan skyline and saw the towering behemoths of the office blocks in the city, climbing so high as to almost pierce the sun. I could not help but stop and stare at the breath taking spectacle before me. The view was simply magical and I was spellbound.
A cobbled path wound its way through the garden, leading past a delicate Japanese water feature that trickled softly like a mellow song. Eventually, the path brought me to a huge white arch, crafted out of pure white marble. The polished surface glistened like the home of some Goddess and there buried in the precious stone wall, was a huge set of oak doors. The brass handles were polished and buffed to the degree where they resembled fine gold, the twisting metal resembling a million dragons in mid-flight. Dangling from the centre of each door was a heavy brass knocker, in the shape of a pony’s face. They weren’t scary or creepy, more they looked determined, as though those ponies were going to defend this home. If they were truly going to defend it, then I shouldn’t even be allowed this close.
Too ashamed and afraid to knock, I stepped back away from the house. Taking the time to glance up at it, I allowed myself to take in the details of the palace that Grace called home. Much like the arch over her door, the whole building was made of solid white marble. Little flecks of crystal glinted in the sunlight casting a stained glass like pattern on the garden surrounding me. The whole effect gave me a feeling of pure peace. There were huge windows, several metres high and decorated absolutely beautifully with some of the most impressive stained glass that Manehattan had to offer. The whole mansion seemed to buzz with an unnatural elegance, much like the mare that owned it.
Steeling myself, I gathered the courage to once again step up to the door. Breathing deeply I raised a hoof. Quivering, I tapped the door with far more force than I had previously thought I could. Given the grand appearance of the mansion I had assumed that Grace would have had a maid or a butler who would attend to things like answering the door for her. Despite being officially retired, Grace was always a busy woman. However, she came to the door herself.
Grace was my junior by about five years in reality, but anyone standing there could have been forgiven for believing that the difference may in fact be closer to fifty years. Thinking about it, it occurs to me that Grace may in fact be immortal, or at least related to the princesses in some way. She looked unnaturally young for a mare of her age. In fact, she hadn’t aged a day since I last saw her. A happy yet inquisitive look appeared on her face as it soon became clear that she didn’t recognise me in my haggard and decrepit form.
“He-Hello Grace.” I could barely get the words out of my mouth. I was both overjoyed to see her once again and to see her looking so well, but I was also wracked with guilt about what I did to her. Slowly, her happy expression faded as my voice assaulted her ears once again. It was obvious that she recognised me then as the corners of her mouth drooped down. Her ears flicked up almost in fear and her eyes widened, almost unable to comprehend that it was in fact me.
I thought that she would slam the door in my face and I wouldn’t have blamed her at all. Had I been in her position, I probably would have done just that. But I had forgotten one thing about Grace, and that thing was how kind and loving she was. Instead of treating me with disdain, her mouth spread into a brilliantly huge smile, her dazzling white teeth partially blinding me as she wrapped her front hooves around my aged neck. I was too shocked to move. I had been expecting a somewhat colder reception from my former best friend, but she cordially invited me in to her home and stated that it had been much too long since we had last spoken. Grace was many things, but resentful was not one of them.
I couldn’t believe just how kind Grace was being to me, especially after everything I did to her. I almost destroyed her completely and I was totally insensitive. I couldn’t keep control of all of my emotions and I broke down on her floor in floods of tears begging her for forgiveness. Grace simply laid a hoof on my shoulder and told me to stop being so ridiculous and that she had never been one to hold a grudge.
We talked for hours, just like in the old days. Grace told me how she almost came to see me hundreds of times, but decided against it. She thought I wasn’t ready and perhaps she was right, but I wish now that she had come to find me earlier. We talked about everything, and we talked about nothing. Grace’s son, Seventh Vengeance had apparently won Battle of the Bands with his group Radiant Eclipse and her other son had made a huge splash in the world of acting with his first major blockbuster due to come out in the spring. She asked me about my life and I told her no word of a lie. My life was empty, totally devoid of happiness.
I began crying again as I told her the story of my life after she left, about the monotony of day to day life, about how I had withered away and died on the inside and rotted down to the mere shell of the mare I had once been. I could boast about the size of Hidden Gem, but there was nothing to boast about. It was a corporate giant and a gold mine for me, but it wasn’t the company that I had envisaged all those years ago when I had broken away from Free and Fancy. Hidden Gem was no longer my child, it was little more than a pastime now.
Grace shared my pain. Despite having been removed from Hidden Gem’s employee list, Grace had always had a keen interest in the welfare of the business. It was as much her baby as mine, so she lamented the loss of it too. As the evening wore on, Grace suggested that perhaps it would be a wise idea to get the wine out. I was an emotional wreck and I thought that a night of drowning my sorrows was exactly what I needed. We opened the first bottle and had drained it within ten minutes. Thanks to Grace’s vast wealth, she had been able to acquire a large amount of wine, so the bottle was replaced swiftly.
As the level of alcohol in both of our bloodstreams increased, the conversation turned to men. Grace explained how she had almost gotten divorced about twice, but how with a bit of counselling (followed by a swift conception) her marriage had stood the test of time. Unlike most other celebrity couples, when things got tough for Grace and Scribble Dibble they did their best to fix the problem rather than scrap the whole relationship.
And then I thought of Ray. I was unbelievably upset, emotionally unstable and had consumed enough alcohol to knock out a dragon, the last thing I wanted to do was to think about Ray O’Sunshine. But there was no one else that I could think about. When Grace asked me to tell tales about the men in my life, I simply couldn’t. There had only ever been one man in my life, only one who I ever let close to me. Every memory I had with Ray came flooding back to me and I felt a new wave of guilt and shame washed over me. I treated him like a tool and I deserved everything that happened to me. Grace was the first person to hear me say that I missed Ray.
I remember that it shocked me when I realised that Grace was the only person that I had ever told all of these stories to, that Grace was the only pony in all of Equestria whom I felt that I could trust enough with my heart and everything inside it. I had handed my soul to Grace, and she had not betrayed me. Like I had betrayed her. Even now as I sit in this train carriage remembering her words of forgiveness, I can’t shake the shame and guilt of everything that I have done in my life.
As we sat on the couch together, the pile of empty wine bottles being matched only by the pile of tissues that I had to keep using to dry my eyes I laid my head on her chest. I was substantially smaller than Grace, so she was able wrap a hoof around me as a snuggled in close to her, giving my body over to everything that it wanted to do. I needed to release my anger, my sadness. Every emotion that I had refused to feel for the last forty years came pouring out of me all at once. And all Grace could do was to hold me, like a mother would hold her child and to stroke my mane and to whisper in my ear that everything would be alright.
I don’t recall when I fell asleep, but I awoke the next morning with Grace still holding me. I must have cried well into the night because the blanket that had been brought down for us was sodden with tears. Grace had woken up before me, but she had stayed completely motionless so as to let me sleep. My head was pounding and I felt physically sick, but since I hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours, there was nothing in my stomach to come up. Grace smiled at me and trotted into the kitchen. She brought back a glass of a light green liquid and handed it to me. It tasted foul, but it cured my hangover almost immediately. I have no idea what it was, but it must have been expensive for it to work so quickly.
After a leisurely breakfast, Grace led me down to the railway station. I still had two more stops to make on my journey and Grace wanted to see me off, so that at least this time we would part on far more friendly terms. She told me to write to her and to come back to visit anytime I wanted. I told her that I would, but secretly I knew that it was probable that I wouldn’t live long enough to come back again. But I didn’t mind. I could have one final memory of Grace, as she and I once were, friends. As the train slowly pulled out from the station, I smiled and waved out of the window at my dear friend Grace and hoped that one day we would meet again, in this life or the next. Before long, the train was in the open countryside, flying past the rolling hills and green fields of the Emerald Isle as the train sped towards Ray’s home in Limmerick.