//------------------------------// // Reconciliation // Story: The Slow Transformation of Oliver Sanderson // by libertydude //------------------------------// The morning breakfast proceeded much how the others did. If Summer held any resentment, it wasn’t clear upon her smiling face. The only indication of our fight seemed to be glances somehow shorter than the ones we’d shared in days past. I didn’t speak just yet, privacy being a necessity for our discussion. If I was going to play Mr. Apology, I would have the dignity of one-on-one. None of this telenovela bullshit where everybody in the family reveals their deepest secrets at Abuela Maria’s ninetieth birthday. The flight left in a few hours, so Dad and Nell spent the time catching up on various family business I couldn’t understand. Their whispering implied they wanted a modicum of privacy, so I went back to the laptop. The screen lit up, and my e-mail appeared once more. The inbox was larger this time, but most of it was advertisements the spam filter missed or NWS updates about the Wave, now four hundred miles off shore. Not a word from any of the zines. I shouldn’t have been surprised; a world-changing catalyst gunning for the West Coast, and here I was expecting them to still be reading submissions. “Uh,” a low voice said. I found Summer standing next to me. She seemed scared to meet my eyes, shuffling backwards once I turned my head to her. “Hi,” I said. “Hi.” An awkward silence passed, then I patted the adjacent couch cushion. “Do you want to sit down?” “Um, okay.” She waddled over, still glancing towards me as she settled upon the couch. Her hips didn’t lift as high as they did for the chair, given the sofa’s closer proximity to the ground. “Nell told me what you did for her,” I said. She nodded, her mane bobbing in time with the dips. “I just thought she seemed so sad and-” “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m no doctor, but I know ALS isn’t something that makes life any easier.” She looked up at me, giving the first solid gaze since the fight. “Anyway, about yesterday... I was more surprised than hurt. You didn’t talk much when you were here.” “I don’t usually have a lot to say,” I said. “Your father said you drew. Maybe that’s how you talk to others.” I shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t really thought about what I want to talk about.” A knowing look came across her face. “I don’t think that’s true. You’ve been thinking a lot about us, haven’t you?” I tried to look quizzical. “Us?” “Ponies. Equines, whatever it is humans say. You’ve never been able to look at me normally the whole time you’ve been here.” I shrugged. “Sorry. I’m just not used to the idea yet.” “I suppose you wouldn’t be. I’m not sure how I’d react if strange beings from another world came to ours and changed us to their form. I don’t know a lot of things.” She pointed a hoof my way, a serious look on her face. “But I’m sure you don’t understand plenty yourself.” “You’re right. Some things are too complicated to really put into coherent sentences. Sometimes, you just have to say everything that comes to mind. Put it all out there, so you at least know what’s on your mind.” I looked down at my feet, cringing at what would come next. “I’m… sorry that you had to be on the receiving end of such thoughts.” She nodded. “I understand, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just…” She dropped her hooves to her side and sighed. “Everything’s happening so fast. Two years ago, we were in a foreign land, surrounded by strange two-legged creatures and a complex world. Now, we’re hours away from a world just like our own, and with you all paying the cost.” She shook her head, a tired expression on her face. “It’s just too fast.” I leaned back into the couch and stared up at the Scandinavian drawing once more. “It is,” I said. “Too fast, I mean. I wanted more time, just to draw something. Because without these…” I held up my hands. “I’m nothing. Hell, maybe I’m nothing even with them.” “That’s not true,” she said, a firm confidence in her voice. “You’re something now, just like you’ll be after the Conversion.” “Pleasant thought. Not sure I buy it.” “Well, I can’t force you how to think. You’ll just have to come to that realization yourself someday.” I chuckled. “Never thought I’d see you this firm.” “Never thought I’d see you talk this much.” “Well, you can always be surprised.” We stayed silent for a few moments, breathing in the smell of leftover toast emanating from the kitchen and eyes wandering to the artwork providing ample distraction from any further sentimentality. But our eyes eventually returned to one another, and I took a deep breath. “So...are we good?” I said. “I’d say so,” she said, sticking out a hoof. “Friends?” I held back a laugh. “That’s a little bit of a stretch.” Her face twisted into scorn and the hoof fell back to her side. “For a human, that is,” I added. Her face softened with this. “Maybe ‘amicable acquaintances’ would work better?” She nodded. “It’s a start.” Pulling her hanging mane back over her shoulder, she chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. “As odd as this sounds, I hope we see each other again. When everything’s over and we’ve figured ourselves out.” She held out her hoof once more. “Yes,” I said, taking her hoof in my hand. The soft fur stuck through the gaps in my finger. “That’d be nice.”