It was days like this that I almost felt like a kid again. When I was little and Applejack wasn’t quite old enough to work yet, nopony made her get up in the morning as early as Pa and Granny and I did, and it always made me a little sour. She got to sleep in, but none of us did. It wasn’t fair, even if she was half my age. Maybe I was being petty, maybe I was just a kid, maybe it was really starting to set in that we’d just lost Ma; all the same, I wasn’t happy about it. However, on the day she turned five, it was time to start helping out, and I got to wake her up that morning. This felt a lot like that.
I threw the guest room door open, flipped on the lights and said, “Mornin’, son!” about as loud as I could.
Startled awake, Malus fought the bed sheets until he’d righted himself on top of the bed. “What!? What!? Where am I!?” His eyes settled on me and blinked. Still staring at me like he didn’t know what he was looking at, he rubbed the sand out of his eyes, and everything returned to him. “Oh. Right.” He looked out the window, noting that it was still dark, then turned back to me. “You’re not serious, are ya?”
I tried to smile normally in spite of how excited I was for the day to come. I love Oxford and Liberty, I really do, but neither of them are old enough, or strong enough, really, to use some of my manual tools, specifically the plow. At the same time, neither of them have any desire to learn how to use the manual tools either. Oxford could and would stay inside playing video games all day if we let him, and Liberty earned herself a cutiemark for shooting in the past week. Pretty unique I think, an apple mid explosion as something passes through it. Sugarbelle was less than pleased.
Malus, on the other hoof, has no choice in the matter, and he’s clearly got more of my physique than Cheeri’s family. This boy is an Apple through and through, and he might not know that yet, but he’s gonna love it once he starts. “We rise with the sun in this house. Sugar is already workin’ on breakfast, and both yer siblin’s are in the bathroom brushin’ their teeth. Now get up, we’ve got a full day ahead of us!”
Malus stared at me like you would a crazy pony, then looked at the window again. “It’s still dark out. Are ya senile too?”
My smile dropped. A rebuke came to mind as quick as a whip, but I thought better of it before I said anything. Hold on now, he doesn’t know. Breathe, Mac. I took a deep breath, marched right up to his bed, then leaned down and got in his face.
“Listen, son, Ah’m gonna need ya ta clean up yer vocabulary. Yer Great Granny, the mare that raised me, bless her soul, lost a battle ta a brain disease ’bout fifteen years ago. Because of that, my sisters and Ah, all our spouses and all our kids, don’t really like that word. Ya might’ve learned by now that ya have a temper. Ya might also know that it doesn’t come from yer mother. Don’t say it again.”
Fully alert now, Malus swallowed and backed up against the wall. “Uh… s-sure.”
I raised my snout a little. “The words are: ‘Yes, sir.’”
He swallowed again. “Y-yes sir.”
That brought joy back to my face. “Good! Now go brush yer teeth. Ah know what Cheeri can cook, so you’ve never had a breakfast like the one you’re about ta get.”
Very quickly, Malus skirted around the edge of the bed and bolted for the door, still wearing pants, oddly enough. It wasn’t until cellular was introduced to the world that ponies started to wear clothes all the time, but even so, I didn’t know of many ponies who sleep in clothes. Especially in the summer. Huh. Maybe he just likes them.
When Malus came to sit next to me on the other side of Liberty, she looked between him and Oxford and back and forth until finally asking, “Pa? Does Ox have a twin?” Even the boys couldn’t help but stare at each other in bewilderment.
I shook my head. “Naw, Ox doesn’t have freckles.” I grabbed a napkin and wiped the coffee off my beard, then stood up. “Ox, Liberty, this is your half brother, Malus. Because of… a number of things that have been brought to my attention recently, he’ll be staying with us till the end of August.”
Sugarbelle sighed as she brought a hot stack of sweet-smelling pancakes over. “Oh, I’m so glad ya said that. When they’re sittin’ together like that, I can’t hardly tell ’em apart either. Um, anyways, welcome to the family Malus. There’s a few other syrups and jams in the fridge if ya don’t like what’s out here, and we’ve usually got a bit of whatever’s growin’ on the farm in there too. The coffee is in the white carafe, the mugs are in that cabinet, and… I think that’s about everythin’.”
Malus looked at her like he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t. “I, uh…”
I was about to whisper in his ear, but Liberty beat me to it. “The words are: ‘thanks, Ma.’”
“Thanks, Ma.” Then, he realized what he said and covered his mouth. “Ma’am! I mean, ma’am. Th-thanks.”
I leaned back behind Malus’s chair and gave Liberty a high hoof, then patted Malus’s mane. “Attaboy. You’ll do just fine here, Ah think.”
“Come on now, put yer back inta it! Liberty’s half yer size and two thirds yer age and she can do it!”
Malus bucked another apple tree, but again, managed to fell only half the apples on his side. That showed he had a talent for it since this was his third attempt, but for him to get me ahead of schedule, I needed him to get the hang of it sooner rather than later. The right encouragement, and he’d get it.
He clicked his tongue like a rabid chicken and stared daggers at me. “You’re full of sh—”
I raised my snout and growled, “What’d Ah say about that mouth of yers?”
Malus’s ears flattened against his head. He ground his teeth together. “Fine! Whatever! I’m kicking this stupid tree as hard as I can! There ain’t no way that little filly—”
I motioned for Liberty to do her thing, and sure enough, Malus watched as all the apples fell off the tree and into the buckets around it. The older boy shut up pretty quick.
Pleased to have somepony to teach, Liberty happily trotted up to Malus and explained what he was doing wrong. “Alright, it’s real simple, okay? All ya gotta do is hit the soft spot, and that’ll shake the whole thing just right. Ah think you’re close, but you’re not timin’ it right.”
Malus let out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Perfect, I have bad timing on a thing that doesn’t move. Just how am I supposed to find some random spot on some random tree I’ve never even seen before?”
Liberty frowned. “Ah mean… ya can’t just tell by lookin’ at it?”
Malus screwed up his snout like what she just said smelled bad. “What? No, why would I…? No.”
Confusion took over her face and she moved to inspect the tree he’d been working on. “But… that’s where ya’ve been hittin’ it.” She moved to the other tree he bucked first and pointed where he bucked that one. “Ya hit the soft spot on this one too. Do ya… really not know?” Now Malus tilted his head and went to inspect the tree with her.
I was having the hardest time trying to keep the smile off my face. Applejack bucked her first full tree when she was five. Applebloom did it when she was six. Oxford did it when he was four. Liberty did it when she was five. Watching every single apple fall off an apple tree all at once was almost like a right of passage for us, and though he was a little old, it was still always exciting to watch somepony do it for the first time. I’ve seen cousins do it, I’ve seen nieces and nephews do it, but there was little that made me happier than watching my own kids do it. Maybe things started wrong, maybe thing should’ve been different, but my son was finally here, ready to join the family for real.
He’s usually a little shy, a trait of mine I don’t particularly care for, but Oxford approached his siblings and offered Malus some advice. “Hey, uh… Ah guess, ‘brother’ would be the right word, but um…” He lined up in front of the half-bucked tree and got in position. “If ya line yerself up straight and use yer forelegs ta rock a little when ya kick, ya get more power out of it.” Oxford demonstrated, and sure enough, the rest of the apples on that tree fell neatly into their buckets. “Ah think that’s all you’re really missin’.”
The slightest smirk beat out the resistance on my face. I tugged at my beard. “Ya know… that sounds like good advice, Ox. You two move the buckets fer him ta that one over there.”
I pointed at the oldest, largest apple tree on my orchard, and the kids gave me a look that said, ‘Are ya sure Pa?’
I nodded, then turned to Malus. “Now, this one here is one Ah usually have ta get because they’re just not quite big enough fer it yet.” I raised a brow. “Think ya can handle it?”
He let out a breath, glared at me, then looked up… and further up at the tree. It was unusually tall for its age, and it was unusually thick for its age too. This particular tree was grown from the seeds of the oldest tree on Sweet Apple Acres, the very first tree that was planted there generations and generations ago.
Every time an Apple moves away from the Acres to set down his own roots, he gets exactly one apple’s worth of seeds from that tree, and is expected to plant those seeds first. Though Applebloom doesn’t have a big one, even she has a little orchard in her backyard, and her own tree, just like this. They’re the centerpieces and most fruitful trees on any Apple family apple orchard, and bucking the apples down from it is also a right of passage for us. Can’t buck it yourself, then you don’t deserve its fruit. Only the strongest apples get to plant roots, after all.
The other kids finished setting up and Malus clicked his tongue again. “Whatever. It’s just another stupid tree. I can’t believe ya brought me out here just to be more free labor.”
That was an eye-roller for me. “Ah fed ya, didn’t Ah? Ah’ll feed ya again too. Now go buck that tree like yer life depends on it.” I gave him a swat on the cutiemarks, and after growling at me for it, he trotted up to the tree.
He was daunted by the sheer size of the thing, but right in front of him was the chance to do something he’d wanted to do all his life: prove he can do it. I motioned for Oxford and Liberty to come to my side, and we all waited and watched together.
Malus started by using his fore hoof to feel along the bark until he paused once he’d reached a certain spot on the trunk. He lowered his brows, inspected the spot thoroughly, then figured he had it right. He turned around, lined himself up straight, spread his forelegs while keeping a close eye on his target, rocked forward, raised his hind legs, and bucked.
The trunk shivered, the leaves shook, and the apples all rained down.
Liberty cheered, Ox shouted, and I let the smile overtake my face. The kids went to congratulate him, and when he finally looked to me after seeing what he’d done, I said, “Ya did good, son.”
For the very first time, Malus smiled at me.
At the beginning of the second week, I’d come to the realization that I had no idea what Malus’s special talent was. He still had his attitude, he still had his mouth, but he’d gotten comfortable here. Liberty was his favorite pony, he was polite with Sugarbelle, and though they never said much to each other, he and Oxford had started to bond over his video games.
It came to me the day after Sugarbelle had taught him how to make an apple pie, specifically with the apples that he’d bucked down earlier in the week. He did well. Even added a spice she didn’t tell him to and just seemed to know the pie needed it. The kid was good with his hooves, all the tools I had he had an instinct for, and not a single thing he did on the farm took him more than a couple tries to figure out.
Everything just came naturally to him, but there’s not a chance he would’ve learned any of these skills in all his years with Cheerilee. Neither I nor my sisters really had a talent for billiards; it was just one of the games we could play since Pa built us a table before he died, and we played it all the time.
If he’d had a talent for cue sports, he would’ve beat me the moment he broke that night. He was about as good as I was at the video games at first, but he picked it up after enough tries. His math needs some work before I’ll ever let him touch my spreadsheets again. He also shot wide on every target when he joined me and Liberty to the range. I’d learned that he doesn’t know how to cook much too. To top it off, as insult to injury, he wasn’t adept at any of the academics even with the teacher, his mother. Based on what he did to my spreadsheets, math was his worst subject.
That Monday night, I figured out why.
“Are those the same pants you’ve been workin’ in all week?” I asked.
Malus looked back at his hind quarters. “Well, yeah. What about ‘em?”
“They stink, son. Ah could smell ya from outside. Go put ‘em in the laundry room and take a shower.”
Malus went to sniff them, then reared back. “Okay, yeah, maybe they do—” Then something occurred to him. “I can’t.”
I frowned. “What do ya mean, ‘ya can’t?’ Laundry room is right down the hall. Ah figured ya knew where everything was by now.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the issue, geezer! I don’t have another pair.”
I blinked. “Wha…? What do ya need another pair of pants fer? We’re done fer the day! It’s not like ya can’t put yer phone nearby, and you’re gonna go take a shower. Ya don’t need ‘em.”
“Yes I do! I’m not taking them off. I’m going to bed. I’ll see ya in the morning.”
He attempted to push past me, but I caught him by the tail and dragged him back. “Take. Off. The pants.”
“No! Let go of me!” He struggled to free his tail from my hoof, but I took that opportunity to trap his forelegs to his barrel.
“You’ve been wearin’ these nasty things since Ah brought ya home a week ago! They’re comin’ off whether ya like it or not!”
“Stop it! Don’t touch me, you ass hole! Let me go, damn it!” He fought hard to get away from me, like he was in real danger; I couldn’t fathom why. Regardless, these nasty pants were making me nauseous, and I wasn’t about to let the smell spread any further in my house. I threw him on the ground, kept his forelegs trapped under one of my hind legs and then went to work on his belt.
“Stop it! Don’t do it! Pa, please!”
‘Pa?’ Did he just call me Pa? I’d absentmindedly managed to get them unzipped and unbuttoned. When I finally pulled the pants down, I understood.
“Oh my Goddess… ya don’t have a cutiemark….”
All at once, Malus curled his head in. Like a waterfall, tears flowed.
“Now, just explain ta me why ya happened ta leave out this particular piece of information, Cheeri.”
Malus was still crying, Liberty and Sugarbelle were trying to console him; Oxford was working on some hot cider. Liberty is nine years old and she got her cutiemark two weeks ago. Oxford got his even earlier than she did. How in the world did Malus manage to go fourteen years without figuring out what he’s supposed to be? His work here clearly shows he’s talented in the usual family traits, but surely something would’ve come along and made him figure that out by now. Unless this is even more serious and he’s got a real case of blank flank, Goddess forbid.
“Well, it’s not exactly something you bring up to other ponies, Mac,” she said over the line.
I sighed and scratched at my disheveled mane. “Ah understand that, Cheeri, but it would’ve been great ta know before Ah traumatized him! Ah’m his father fer Goddess’s sake! Of all the ponies in the world that need ta know about this kinda crap, Ah need ta know!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I… I just didn’t think about it. Or at least… I try not to. When he didn’t have it by the time he turned thirteen, I really thought he might actually just be a blank flank. It’s not as if we didn’t try everything we could just to get him somewhere, but nothing ever… stuck, I suppose. I even took a page out of Applebloom’s book and started exploring every profession I could think of and just getting him to try everything. Nothing ever worked, the teasing only got worse as he got older, the fights started to get more and more violent, and… and then he started to explore… unsavory activities.”
I leaned my head against the wall and put my free hoof against the back of my neck. Quietly sobbing at the table, covering his face with his forelegs, ears folded back, tail tucked in, hind legs crossed. Poor kid. No wonder.
“Is there anything else, and Ah mean anything else, Ah need ta know about him?”
Silence over the line.
“He’s allergic to strawberries and gets tummy aches when he takes in too much dairy. Um… I think he smoked a lot while he was in that gang, so be careful if he starts getting into coughing fits. He has his asthma kit on him, but you should probably find it just in case you need to use it. He doesn’t do well around heavy perfumes. And… that’s all I can think of at the moment.”
Of course he was part of a gang. “Thanks, Cheeri. If you think of anything else at all that I need ta know, please call me right then and there, alright? Ah’ve always got my phone on me.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I suppose that’s one more thing I should’ve told you sooner…”
For a time, sighing was the only thing I could do. “Yes. Yes it is.”