Gardening with Rose
Admiral Biscuit
I didn’t have to wash the dishes. For starters, I was a guest. More importantly, I’d made dinner while Lily and Daisy were at the market, and they had a rule that whoever was at the market was supposed to clean up after dinner.
That was an interesting insight into their idea of which was more of a task. I could have seen the argument that it was harder to work the stall than to simply make dinner, but their priorities were different. Maybe it had to do with the difficulty of cooking and cleaning with hooves.
Why was Lily so bitchy? Could it be PMS? I didn’t know if that was a thing that ponies got; I’d never really asked.
Was she scared of me? That idea had possibilities. I couldn’t think of any particular reason why she might be, but I knew that ponies sometimes shied away from me when I was out and about.
Lily’d been friendly enough when I’d run into her at market, so I didn’t think it was racism, or whatever having a fear of a different species was. I hoped it wasn’t—if it was deep-seated, it would be nearly impossible to overcome.
Maybe she was just uncomfortable with me being in her house, with me being in her flower gardens. I could understand that. But what to do about it?
I could only come over to help when she was at market. I could invite Rose over to my house more often, I could not spend the night here. I didn’t like that; it didn’t seem fair to me.
Pony counters were too short for me, so after I set the plate I’d been washing into the drying rack, I arched out my back and rolled my head around to work some of the kinks loose. As I did, I happened to glance over at my shorts and panties, still sitting on the end of the kitchen counter. I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t wearing anything, but of course that brought it back.
I distracted myself by looking out the window. Rose was back in the garden, cleaning off all the tools—she hadn’t done that before dinner.
What if Lily was just afraid? Not of me, specifically, but of what I might represent? I might change her relationship with Rose, and that could be something that scared her. As ridiculous an idea as it was, she might think I was trying to usurp her place in the house. Taking Daisy’s side in our dinner conversation wouldn’t have changed her mind, either.
I couldn’t just tell her that things weren’t going to change, either. Neither of us would believe that. Certainly back on Earth, friendships ebbed and waned as people entered and left the mix or as jobs or hobbies changed, and I couldn’t imagine that things would be different here.
I didn’t want to give this up. Lily was just going to have to learn to deal with it. I could hope that once she got more used to me, she’d get more comfortable around me.
•••
“Were you planning to spend the night?”
“I might.”
Rose and I were in the living room. As soon as I’d entered, Lily had said she had a headache and was going to go to bed early, and Daisy had followed her upstairs. Neither of them had fallen asleep; I could occasionally hear them talking. Rose had an ear on the conversation as well.
“Might?”
“It’s up to you. I don’t want to create friction.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Lily will get over it.”
“Can you be sure of that? Sometimes people are really set in their ways and don’t change even when they should.”
“Sometimes they fight about Daisy using her magic. It’s silly. Sometimes I wonder if Lily’s only happy if she’s mad or scared about something.”
I’d known people like that back on Earth. “So maybe if she’s constantly annoyed by me, she’ll get along with Daisy better.”
“That’s not a solution.”
“I know. Maybe she should see Tenderheart, too. We could have back-to-back sessions. She could help me learn how to be a better pony, and teach Lily how to not be a bitch.” I sighed. “Most of the ponies I work for, they’re skeptical at first, but once I do a good job they decide that I’m okay after all. I’ve never had a pony slam the door in my face.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough to the truth. “That might just be an earth pony thing, though. I haven’t worked for that many unicorns. Or pegasi.”
“She’ll come around,” Rose promised. “I’m not gonna lie, it might be a while and she might never be completely happy around you, but she’s nice most of the time.”
“I could cook more dinners, spend some more time over here. Get her used to me, that would help. Do nice things for her whenever I have the chance.” I shifted around on the couch. Occasionally, when I thought about it, it felt weird to have couch fabric on a bare bottom. And that got me to wondering if the cushion covers were washable, and if they were, how often was it done?
If Lily was really racist, she’d drag the couch out back and burn it.
The easiest thing to do would be to go home for the night. I could tell Rose that if she wanted to come with me, she could. But that would be the coward’s choice. That would be forcing Rose to choose.
I was making progress. If she wanted to, Lily could, too. If she didn’t, I couldn’t let that be my problem. “It’s not too late for dessert at Sugarcube Corner, is it? My treat.”
“No, they should still be open.” Rose giggled. “Remember that time we drank all that wine, and then—”
“All too well.” If I could do it drunk, I could do it sober. “We should invite them, too.”
“Lily won’t want to go.”
“And if she doesn’t, she’ll miss out on some delicious dessert, and she’ll have nobody to blame for it but herself. That’s something I can’t do anything about. Or—you know what she likes, right?”
Rose nodded. “If she doesn’t want to go, I can bring it back.”
That was a simple thing. I was flush with bits, and spending a few on sugary treats wouldn’t really hurt me all that much. As long as she didn’t get offended by the idea of eating a dessert I’d bought, which admittedly was a possibility. “They’ll probably—if you tell them instead of me—”
•••
Much to my surprise, Lily did decide to go. I hadn’t actually expected that; I‘d envisioned to just being three of us. The promise of sugary treats won out over her feelings towards me, or else I was being overly critical of her.
Stepping through the front door was a major challenge. Doing it drunk and doing it sober turned out to be more different than I’d thought, and my fears came crashing back once again. The door was open, the street wasn’t all that far away, and any pony who happened to be passing by could just look over and see me.
It would only take a minute to put my shorts back on. We’d hardly be delayed. Plus, it was more logical—I could put my bits in my pocket and not have to carry them.
Rose would be disappointed, Lily would be triumphant, and Daisy would understand.
I’d spent several days shoveling shit, and this was hardly a higher demand than that. It was nothing. Nobody had cared when I’d done it drunk; nobody would care when I did it sober. The four of us—all naked—would walk to Sugarcube Corner, and we’d get something chocolatey and sugary and sweet and there might be a few ponies who would glance over and maybe stare just a little bit because they’d never seen me without pants and they were curious. That was natural, that was understandable. There wouldn’t be a mass panic, the cops wouldn’t arrest me for indecent exposure, or for visiting a food establishment without a shirt or shoes. None of my latent fears, conditioned on Earth, would come to pass. If there was anything unpleasant, it would come from Lily having a stick shoved up her butt, and that was something I could deal with as long as I got ice cream out of the deal.
“You know,” I said to Daisy as I stepped out the door, “I kind of do wish that I had a tail. I’d feel a little bit less exposed if I did.”
“I can walk behind you, if that’ll help,” she offered.
I shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” It wasn’t going to be the best arrangement for conversation, but there wasn’t likely to be much of that anyway.
•••
One thing I hadn’t really noticed the last time I’d done this was the breeze. It was normal enough to feel against most of my skin, but not everywhere. That was something that would take some getting used to.
A few ponies that we passed on the street paused briefly, looking me over, before continuing on their way. It wasn’t much, but then I was no Lady Godiva.
By the time we’d gotten to the main street—such as it was in Ponyville—I’d let my guard down and began to just enjoy the moment. It was a pleasant evening; the last reds and oranges of sunset were fading, and I could see a few bright stars in the darkening sky to the east.
It was crowded inside, but we found a table. Lily went over to claim it, and the other three of us waited in line to order.
When Pinkie brought our desserts up, I went to pick them up, and felt a bit of a wave of magic wash across my hands. For just a moment, the plates lightened, before settling back down.
“Sorry, I—”
“If you want to carry them—” Daisy and I both looked at each other.
“One of you do it,” Rose said.
“How about both of us? I’ll get Lily’s dessert and mine.”
“That’s fair.” I picked up two plates and carefully made my way back to our table. Daisy had it easier; her plates just followed along.
In all honesty, as amazing as that was to watch, it was more interesting to see how other ponies carried their food. Balancing plates on their backs was common, and I’d never seen one slip off so far.
We took our seats. I sat against the wall, since ponies were already used to seeing my upper half and new arrivals wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t wearing pants today either.
Lily was seated directly across from me, presumably since it was the furthest distance she could be while still at the same table, or maybe she wanted to keep a close eye on me.
“Do you put a fresh flower in your mane every day?”
“Sometimes it’s fake,” Rose whispered.
“Only when we’re short on real flowers,” Lily countered. “I like the scent.” She leaned down and took another bite of her brownie.
“Lilies do smell nice. And they look pretty,” I said.
“Do you have them on Earth?”
“Yeah. Besides the ones in gardens and pots, there are lots of orange spotted lilies that grow wild. Tiger lilies. They’re one of the first to flower in the spring, right after the daffodils. Some people have them in their gardens, but I guess they get away and grow other places, too—where I used to live, there was a railroad embankment that was covered with them, and they always looked so pretty.”
“They do.” She leaned across the table, slightly bridging the gap. “Did you grow them?”
I could confess that I didn’t have a green thumb, something that Rose knew full well. I could play that off to the difference between worlds if I had to. So long as I didn’t claim too many skills I didn’t have.
But I knew a lie would come back to bite me later, and once she figured out that I was lying, she’d like me even less.
“Not back on Earth, no. I wanted to, but I never really had the time or the skills.”
“You haven’t got wings or a horn,” Lily said. “And—”
“People are different. None of them have wings or horns.”
“Who brings your weather?”
“It just happens.”
“Like in the Everfree Forest?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Lily frowned. “What if you get bad weather? Weather that doesn’t make the plants happy? Rain at the wrong time, or—do you wrap up winter?”
“No?” I got the snow tires taken off my car, but I didn’t think that was what she was talking about. “In America, they have a groundhog who says if winter is going to last six more weeks or if it’s going to be an early spring. He’s right about half the time.”
“I don’t like that. Weather should be on schedule.”
“You’re not alone, Lily. Lots of people don’t like it either.”
“You should fix it.”
“If I ever get back, I’ll write a letter to Parliament.”
•••
We wound up staying for almost an hour. Daisy had a lot of questions about living on Earth, and Lily paid attention. Maybe the dessert had softened her up a little bit, or maybe her curiosity was getting the better of her.
Maybe I’d been too judgemental about her when I was washing dishes. I still wasn’t an expert at reading pony emotion.
It was fully dark by the time we left. I was already yawning, and Daisy had covered a few herself.
As I walked back through town, I thought about how nervous I’d been in the morning, and now it felt like it was no big deal to walk through town nude. Skyclad—that was how the witches in Terry Pratchett’s book had called it. It felt fitting, especially since there was nothing between my skin and the emptiness of space except for the thin veil of the sky.
By the time we got back to Rose’s house, I was getting a little bit chilly. It was surely psychological; my shorts hadn’t covered enough to make a major difference.
The four of us took our turns in the bathroom and then went upstairs. I thought that I might have a difficult time falling asleep, but I didn’t.