Fiddlesticks knew what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She would spend all her days playing weddings.
There were occasionally other venues that would book her services. Graduations, grand openings, a few birthday parties, even. But the one event everyone wanted live music for was a wedding. It could be depended upon in the same way that a tree would grow in the sun and die in the shade.
She'd been on call with a gig company for about a year now, and she didn't really know the other ponies in the band that well. They would all get together the day before the wedding, play the set once, and then do it again the next day.
She needed to learn lots of different pieces for weddings. Ponies were particular about the exact songs they wanted to hear, sometimes incredibly so. Play this song as she walks down the aisle, play this one during the reception, this one when we cut the cake. Some couples would micromanage their music down to a second, and it was Fiddlesticks’ responsibility to keep their wishes in mind.
There was something liberating about merging her sound with others. She didn't know the ponies that well, and they would quickly forget her, but for a moment, they were all together. It was fleeting, but that was the beauty of it.
She couldn't tell you the names of any of the couples she had played for. So when some strange pony knocked on her door in the middle of the night and told her she had played at her wedding, Fiddlesticks couldn't place her.
"I play a lot of weddings," she said.
"Sorry. I'm Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings? I married Bon Bon?"
Fiddlesticks shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"You played The Song of the Satyr after we read the vows."
All of sudden she could see it perfectly in her mind. The wide, open hall. The surprisingly small crowd. They had stopped kissing after the crescendo, as if they had timed it to the music.
"I remember now. Yes, I played at your wedding."
"I need you to play again."
Fiddlesticks blinked. "Why?"
"I'm in some trouble. Nothing to worry about, but I figured a romantic gesture would help. And what better way than bringing a pony who accompanied the most romantic day of our lives to recreate that moment?"
"You should go through the official channels. I don't schedule the gigs. That's someone else's job."
"Yeah, I know. I already talked to your manager. She gave me your address, said you were my best hope."
Best hope? What could she possibly mean by that?
"I don't understand," said Fiddlesticks.
"It's not a traditional gig. I need you to come with me and play now."
"Right now?"
Lyra nodded.
Fiddlesticks glanced inside her house. She'd just finished practicing, and the violin sat on the table. She hadn't put it away yet.
There was only one thing in life she wanted to do. She figured that when she had the opportunity to do it, she should.
"Give me a second," Fiddlesticks said. She carefully packed her violin in its case, then returned to the front door.
"How far away are we going?"
"Not far," said Lyra. "Only a few blocks."
By "a few," Lyra apparently meant fifty. The entire walk over she lectured to Fiddlesticks about the problem she was in. Her and Bon Bon had gotten in some big fight. It started as something stupid, but kept escalating until Lyra snapped, said something pretty nasty to her wife.
"I've never done that before," she said. "Nothing that bad, at least. I mean, I don't think sorry's gonna cut it. So I thought, well, back to our wedding day, and… I guess you know what happened next."
Fiddlesticks didn't pay too much attention to the details. She spent her time going over The Song of the Satyr in her head. The crescendo would be tricky to pull off by herself, but she could manage it. Granted, there wouldn't be as much oomph to the moment, but it should suffice for whatever Lyra had planned.
"I'll pay the normal rate, of course. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. Really, it means a lot to me."
"Don't mention it," said Fiddlesticks, having barely registered what Lyra said.
Some more time went by, and Lyra broke through Fiddlesticks' wall when she said, "Is this okay?"
She gave Lyra a look. "What do you mean?"
"Is this weird? Coming to you in the middle of the night for something like this? I mean, if it's weird, we don't have to go through with it."
"It is weird, but I don't mind."
Fiddlesticks usually had a hard time figuring out other ponies' emotions, but even she could notice the relief sweep over Lyra's face.
"Okay, good. I just didn't want you to think I'm a creep or anything."
She hadn't considered it before, but now that Lyra had said so, she realized this was kind of creepy. She remembered playing at their wedding, for sure, but she knew literally nothing else about this pony who had knocked on her door in the middle of the night and asked her to follow her. Her mind had been on the music.
Fiddlesticks discarded the idea that something sinister would happen. She would play her music. That was enough.
Lyra stopped walking in the middle of the street. Fiddlesticks turned to face the house she stood in front of. It was a quaint little place, isolated on a lonely street. She could see a light on from the window.
Lyra gave Fiddlesticks a nudge. "Start."
She didn't need to be told twice. Fiddlesticks placed her violin case on the floor, and removed its precious contents. Took a moment to tune the strings, then started playing The Song of the Satyr.
It was a pop song, a breezy little thing. Aside from the crescendo at the end of the bridge, it wasn't very interesting. Still, it was the song she had been paid to play. She put all her heart into it, trying to melt into the moment.
At the end of the first verse the second story window flew open. A mare stuck her head out the window.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"Bon Bon! This is one of the musicians from our wedding night. It's our song! Remember?"
Bon Bon looked at Fiddlesticks like she was a piece of furniture. She turned her attention back to Lyra.
"Are you serious right now?"
"I didn't mean it!" insisted Lyra. "Please, I don't want you to go to sleep mad at me."
"I already did. It's two AM! You're ruining one of our happiest memories!"
Second chorus, now.
"Don't say that!" said Lyra. "Remember what we were like back then? We knew exactly what we wanted to do, what we hoped for the future. We shouldn't forget that dream!"
"Lyra, you've been reading too many romance novels. This kind of thing is completely uncalled for. Why didn't you just say you were sorry?"
"I didn't think sorry would be good enough."
"You could have at least tried first! How did you know unless you actually said the words? That's the problem with you. You just assume that things won't go according to plan, so you never even try the most basic first step! You always have to do something weird, like this!"
Fiddlestick started the bridge. The crescendo would come soon.
"It's the worst thing I've ever done. If I could take it back I would, but--"
"How, Lyra? How am I supposed to react when my wife tells me that she doesn't love me anymore?"
"I didn't mean it! It's just the fight and the--"
"I would never say that. Ever! Under any circumstances! The fact that those words could come out of your mouth ever, at all… I just don't know who you are anymore."
Fiddlesticks played the crescendo. The sound swelled from the violin, almost drowning out Bon Bon's words.
"And will you stop playing that! This is a private conversation! You never should have brought her here, Lyra!"
Bon Bon slammed the window shut. Fiddlesticks kept playing.
Lyra shuffled over to her. "You can stop now."
Fiddlesticks did what she was told, even if it bugged her to leave the song unfinished. She'd play it again when she got home, otherwise it would bother her all night.
Lyra handed Fiddlesticks some bits. "Here's your money. Thanks for remembering the song, at least."
"I never forget a song."
"I bet you don't." Lyra examined Fiddlesticks in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was like she hadn't really looked at her before, and was surprised to find that she'd been talking to an actual pony this whole time.
"You want me to walk you home?" Lyra asked.
"It's not necessary."
"I… I don't think I can go home tonight."
"There's a good hotel down the road from my house. I'll show you where it is."
"Thanks."
Fiddlesticks led the way. The Song of the Satyr was stuck in her head. Damn, she really wanted to finish it.
"Are you single?" asked Lyra.
"Yes."
"What, uh… what kind of ponies are you into?"
Lyra must be a terribly unsubtle pony for Fiddlesticks to be able to figure out what was going on.
"I'll tell you something," said Fiddlesticks. "If you want to hear it, that is."
"Sure, I guess."
"I've been in exactly one relationship before. It took me months to realize the only reason she loved me was because I was a rebound. I was in the right place at the right time and got to spend six months with her. Then she moved on."
"Oh. I, uh… yeah, it was probably a bad idea. Sorry I brought it up," said Lyra.
FIddlesticks continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I learned something important the day she left. A lesson I think you should take to heart."
Lyra gave Fiddlesticks a quizzical look.
"To be certain of something is the rarest thing in the world. I feel doubt all the time. I can't make up my mind about anything. There's only one thing I am certain about."
Lyra nodded. "Love," she said.
"What? No. I'm certain that music is beautiful."
"Well, yeah, but there are things more important than music, right? I mean, I play an instrument too, but it's not, like, my whole life. It's fun, and I like it, but it's only a part of me."
Fiddlesticks didn't know what to say to that. She didn't have different parts to who she was. It was only music. Nothing else.
It didn't surprise her that Lyra felt that way. Everyone she'd ever meant had felt that way. Whenever she tried to explain herself, she would be met with skeptical looks.
The worst time had been from her mother. She had just played her first wedding, and needed to share her excitement with someone. She'd paid mother a visit, as she had no one else in her life who could possibly care.
Mother, as always, asked how much money she made. Fiddlesticks told her, and mother had given her a scowl.
"You need a real job. Why don't you expand your horizons?"
Fiddlesticks had tried explaining it to her so many times before. When she played music, there was no doubt. She either played the song right or wrong. If it was wrong, she could practice until it was right. It made sense, and it was beautiful.
She didn't know how to love, or talk to ponies, or do the things everyone thought she should do. She'd tried a few times, but it was just so hard. How could she figure out how to live as others expected her to? There wasn't any clear indication when she struck the wrong note. Often, she never found out if she did things right or wrong. How could anyone live like that? Never knowing for sure what the next verse would bring?
Fiddlesticks much preferred to think about music.
Lyra, it seemed, wanted to think about the other stuff.
Whatever. Fiddlesticks focused on the song in her mind as she walked Lyra to the hotel. She pointed it out and turned around without another word. The second she got home she took her violin and played the eternity of The Song of the Satyr.
This time, the crescendo sounded much better. If only she'd managed to play it right, earlier, but those ponies had distracted her. She had trouble focusing on the music.
It bothered her. She couldn't remember the last time music had been hard to focus on.
She played the song again, and this time it sounded even better. She hadn't made any mistakes the first two times. She played it exactly the same. Yet it sounded different.
She played it a third time, and it sounded like the song of an angel. Fiddlesticks didn't realize she was crying until a tear splashed on the instrument.
Quickly, she wiped it off and kept playing.
Music was beautiful. It made sense. It was either correct or incorrect. A song will always sound the same to everyone.
But it sounded different to her.