I didn’t like how familiar the hospital felt.
Yeah, I’d been here once or twice after a nasty crash, but except for the time I broke my wings I never really stayed long enough to figure out the rotation of the meals. Come in, patch up, argue with the doctor, play a prank, sneak out, come back the next week to pay the bill. It had always worked for me.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked for Ditzy. I’d been watching her daughters for the last three months while she stayed in the hospital. I brought them to visit her every day after school, but lately the treatments had been taking as much out of her as that thing growing in her head. The headaches had been bad enough, but she’d looked like Tartarus over the last few weeks as her mane and feathers steadily thinned out.
Then last week, she’d asked me to bring Rarity to see her. I didn’t know why, and with everything on my plate I didn’t have the time to ask. I’d put it out of my mind until yesterday, when Ditzy gave each of her daughters one of her pinfeathers, attached to the end of a necklace.
I’d known she was in bad shape, but that … seeing those necklaces really made it sink in that she wasn’t coming back from this. Pegasi only give away their pinfeathers like that for two reasons: as a token of affection when they think they’ve found their soulmate, or when they’re about to die and want to leave something behind for their loved ones.
She’s their mom, not me. I could barely manage caring for a tortoise, and 90% of that was just getting a new head of lettuce every few days. But I told her I would be Dinky’s godmother the day she was born. I’d made that promise again three years ago, when Ditzy brought Sparkler home from a Canterlot orphanage. Being a godmom was supposed to mean showing up for birthdays or being an awesome foalsitter, not … taking over.
There are some promises nopony should ever have to keep.
Both the girls walked alongside me through the hospital door. Redheart looked up from the front desk, unsurprised to see me. I’d brought them to see Ditzy every day since she first checked in, which made us a pretty common sight around here. Dinky blew a raspberry as I went over to sign the guest log.
“Wait just a sec, Dinky.” Dozens of copies of my signature were scrawled over the pages of the visitors’ log, at least one per day over the past few months. I signed our names again under today’s date, and turned to head down the hall when I saw Redheart coming towards us. Something about the way she was looking at us bothered me. I began walking towards her, but Dinky sighed and stomped her hoof in frustration.
“Cool it, kiddo!” I instantly regretted snapping at her. I didn’t want to get upset with Dinky, but sometimes ... I dunno. Nothing about this really bothered her. Her days had consisted of her going to school, visiting Ditzy, going home, and going to bed. Rinse, lather, and repeat. It had become a routine for her.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, that was—” I sighed. “Look, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but this really is important, okay?”
“Fiiiine,” Dinky whined. “Sparkler, could you take the cupcakes for me? I gotta go potty.”
The older unicorn’s horn glowed as she took the box of pastries, and Dinky ran off towards the restrooms. Redheart came up to us, and I tried to ignore the knot in my stomach. It’s rarely a good sign when the hospital staff approaches you. Still, there’s always a chance it’s good news. I nonchalantly shuffled my right wing, shifting my grip on the Battle Clouds box tucked under it. “Hey, Redheart. What’s up?”
“Rainbow. Sparkler.” The bottom dropped out of my stomach at the way she said our names. “Please come with me.”
We wordlessly followed her down the hallway and past a set of cheesy-looking potted plants. She motioned for us to follow her into a nearby office, and for the life of me I did not want to go in. Sparkler went in and set the cupcakes down on the desk, then sat down on one of the cushions next to it. I did the same with the board game and sat down next to her.
Redheart closed the door behind us, and I felt the knot in my stomach tighten when she sat down across from us rather than behind the desk. Sparkler nervously tapped her foreleg against the carpeted floor, her gaze alternating from the nurse to me. We stared at each other for a minute before I finally spoke up.
“All right,” I said. “What’s going on?”
Redheart tentatively licked her lips as she met our gaze, her ears flat against her head. “Ditzy slipped away last night.”
“No.” Sparkler gasped, shaking her head as if refusing to believe what she was hearing. I didn’t blame her. “Mom … no...”
Redheart pulled her into a hug. “Oh sweetie, come here … oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sparkler wrapped a hoof around her, then another. Soon, her shoulders were shaking in Redheart’s embrace as the nurse gently rocked her, stroking her mane as she wept.
I was rooted to the spot, lost for words. I’d known this was coming for weeks, but now that it had happened … Ditzy was gone. Celestia, it felt so wrong to even think that. She’d been Ponyville’s mailmare mom for seven years, and my friend for twice that long.
Sparkler’s muffled whimpering snapped me back to reality, reminding me of the two fillies Ditzy had left in my care. I awkwardly patted Sparkler’s back, not really sure what else to do while she clung to Redheart.
The nurse looked at me. “Did Dinky come with you today?”
“Yeah, um—I think she was going to the bathroom.”
“You should go find her. I’ll watch Sparkler until you get back.”
I stepped out of the office, closing the door behind me to try and block out the sounds as I made my way back across the lobby. A few patients craned their heads to try and get a look at the office, but I ignored them. The restrooms were near the front desk, the first two doors leading into the hallway on the other side of Redheart’s office. The door to the mare’s room creaked a bit when I pushed it open.
“Dinky?” I called out. “K-kiddo, are you in here? I, um … I need to talk to you about something, okay?”
Save for the drip of water from one of the faucets, the bathroom was silent. I couldn’t hear anypony else in here with me, and a quick check of the stalls confirmed that I was alone. Dinky must have had pulled a fast one on me and doubled back when I wasn’t looking. Under other circumstances, I’d have been impressed. I’d have to bring her along with me and Pinkie the next time we went out pranking.
If she wasn’t here, though … oh, no. There was only one other place in the entire hospital she would go. The bathroom door banged against the wall as I flew out, racing down the far-too-familiar hallway to the long-term care ward. I narrowly missed clipping Tenderheart on the way; flying indoors like this was insanely dangerous because of the risk of colliding with somepony. I’d probably get in trouble for it later, and I was pretty surprised when Tenderheart didn’t shout after me.
Like I cared. I needed to find Dinky.
I slowed down a bit as I got to the wing of the hospital Ditzy had been staying in, and I had to stop and catch my breath. The namecard outside of her room had been cleared away. It was just the number now, along with a blank slot where the patient name used to be. Clean, sterile, anonymous. There was no hint of the mare that had been living here for the past three months, no outward sign that anything had happened beyond another day passing. I took a few deep breaths and pushed the door open.
Somepony, probably Tenderheart, had turned off the monitors above Ditzy’s bed, and with the curtains drawn the room was surprisingly dark. I was glad for that. I could just make out the bed’s position to the right, along with what was on it. Seeing my friend like that…
I felt a perverted sense of relief knowing that Dinky hadn’t come this way yet. Small favors, right? Sure, I was going to bury my friend and then try to find her wayward daughter. First thing first, though: I wanted to say goodbye. I stood there for a moment, silently begging Celestia that my friend would show sign of life—any hint that this wasn’t real. Talk. Move. Anything.
“H-hey Ditzy,” I said. “It’s me—y’know, Rainbow. I’ve been keeping an eye on the girls for you...” Breathe, Ditzy, just … breathe. Please. “Um—I want you to know I’ll keep doing that, okay? Like I said yesterday, I’ll take care of ‘em.”
That had been the worst conversation of my life. I’d been caring for Dinky and Sparkler, yeah, but everything I’d done up until yesterday had just been foal-sitting stuff—wake ‘em up, fix their meals, make sure Dinky’s mane wasn’t a mess before Sparkler walked her to school, and take ‘em to visit their mom in the afternoon. Then the necklaces came out, and she told me she was … going. Even then, she wanted to make sure her daughters were going to have somepony to take care of them.
“Hi, Rainbow Dash.”
I froze in place when I heard Dinky’s voice. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could just make out her head poking out from Ditzy’s forelegs. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. But there she was, wrapped in her mother’s arms beneath the covers.
“Dinky...”
She’d made it here before me after all. Worse, she’d wrapped her mom’s legs around her like some sick kind of blanket. The harder I tried not to think about the day she’d been born, the faster the memories came to mind: Ditzy lying there in bed, drenched in sweat and exhausted but happier than I’d ever seen her as she cradled her daughter in her hooves. Things had come full circle; here Ditzy was again, bedridden in a hospital with Dinky snuggled up against her.
This was wrong.
“I didn’t wanna wait to see Mommy,” Dinky whispered. “I kinda fibbed about going to the potty. Sorry if I scared you.”
That was all she was worried about, lying to me about where she had been? She’d just wanted to see her mom again. “It’s not that, kiddo, it’s so-some-” My voice caught in my throat. “Look, Dinky, I—um ... it’s gonna b-be okay, all right? You and Sparkler are gonna be okay, I’m gonna—”
“Shh.” Dinky snuggled closer against her mother. “Mommy’s sleeping.”
Oh, Luna. Anything but this, please. For the past three months I had thought Dinky was in denial, or else too caught up with hoping Ditzy would get better to try to think about life after Mom. Now I realized she didn’t think Ditzy could … die … because she had no idea anything like that could happen.
Seeing my friend dead was bad enough, but watching her daughter wrap herself in her arms like that went so far beyond wrong. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to tell her about her mom? I had no idea how to handle this. I couldn’t be here any more, I just couldn’t.
“O-okay. Um, tell you what, I’ll—I’ll be right back, okay Dinky?”
“Okay.” Dinky kept her voice low. I hugged her as carefully as I could manage, brushing against Ditzy’s leg as I did. She was so cold, she was—she—
I barely made it out of room and closed the door behind me. I had to be strong for them now. Dinky and Sparkler needed me. So how was I going to tell my goddaughter her mother was gone? When I saw her, I had expected—actually, I didn’t know what I’d expected. Crying, screaming, promises to eat her alfalfa and go to bed on time. Anything. I could have taken that; at least then I would have been able to cry with her.
But this? This was going to haunt me for years.
I could hear Sparkler howling when I stepped back into the hallway. I’d have to go back to her before long. Hay, part of me wanted to go to her right now. That way I could put off telling Dinky the truth for a little while longer.
I didn’t know what was worse: that Sparkler understood everything that had happened, or that Dinky didn’t.
Hooffalls echoed dully on the hallway carpet, and I turned to see Tenderheart coming back. She looked as bad as I felt. Her eyes were red, and I could feel her struggling to keep her breathing level as she put a comforting hoof on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rainbow. I know you were very close to her.”
“Yeah.” No duh. Of course I was close to her, we’d been friends since before I had my cutie mark. We’d gone to flight camp together. I’d given Ditzy a home when she was pregnant and scared, and held her hoof while she screamed through the contractions giving birth to Dinky. I’d been there to welcome Sparkler to her new home. Ditzy had all but made me an honorary member of the family she’d built in Ponyville.
Saying I was just ‘close’ to Ditzy was a bad joke.
Tenderheart looked like she was about to hug me, but stopped herself halfway through. “Did you find Dinky?”
I swallowed and motioned my head towards the door. Tenderheart looked at the door and back to me, and her eyes went wide as it sank in. She arched an eyebrow, shooting me a look that seemed to ask why I was out here instead of with Dinky. It was a few minutes before I could speak.
“‘Mommy’s sleeping.’” It had become a mantra, repeating over and over in my mind. For some reason, I thought saying it out loud would help get rid of the image of Dinky. It didn’t. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
Tenderheart gasped and put a hoof over her mouth. She blinked away tears and forced a neutral expression onto her face. I envied her ability to just bury her emotions like that. Something told me I’d have to be doing that a lot before long.
“You won’t have to say anything, Rainbow. I’ll tell her.”
Like hay she would! I dunno what it was, but something in me wanted to tell Dinky myself. It wasn’t like I could make things any better, but I owed her the truth.
I shook my head and stood up, but Tenderheart stopped me with a hoof on my chest. “Rainbow Dash, listen to me. That filly is about to be pulled away from her mother for the last time. You don’t want to be there for that, and I don’t want you to be there for it. Sh-she … if you do it, she’ll never forgive you.”
I hated to say it, but she was right. I nodded to her, and Tenderheart took a deep breath and walked inside Ditzy’s room. It felt like hours passed with each tick of a nearby clock. Tenderheart’s words were muffled by the door, and I couldn’t even hear Dinky’s well-meaning whispers. If I didn’t think about it too much, I could almost pretend this was another visit.
At least, until the screaming started. I don’t know what Tenderheart said to her, and I was kinda glad for that. There’s a lot in life I don’t want to know about, and right at the top of that list is how to tell a child that their mother is gone.
“Mommy’s just asleep, Miss Tenderheart! Put me down! We’re gonna play Battle Clouds and I brought cupcakes and I wanted to show you my necklace again but you have to wake up first! Wake up, Mommy, please! WAKE UP! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP! WAKE UUUUP!”
Her wailing melted into a wordless scream of grief and horror. The door opened to Dinky flailing in Tenderheart’s grasp. The embattled nurse rocked Dinky, giving me enough time to blink away the tears at the edge of my vision. Dinky slipped out of her forelegs and threw herself against me in a crushing hug, as if Ditzy would be awake and smiling when we walked back through the door if I said Tenderheart was wrong.
“Mommy won’t wake up. She’s gonna wake up, right?”
I’ve never wanted to lie more in my life. “No. No, she’s not.”
The last spark of hope in her eyes died. I had taken away the one anchor in her life with four words. Tenderheart may have pulled Dinky away from her mom, but I was the one keeping her away. Dinky buried her head into my chest fur and wailed. I held her against me and cried with her.
What else could I do?