“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Sunset. I don’t believe in God no more.”
I find Applejack tending to the orchards in Sweet Apple Acres. Knowing her family history, I asked to go with her to church, like I went with Fluttershy, but she said that wouldn’t be possible. When I pressed, she told me to meet her here.
I blink. There goes that hope of spiritual guidance. “Oh. I assumed you did.”
Applejack picks a handful of apples from the nearest tree, grumbling. “You never heard of atheists before?”
“In Equestria, sure. I didn’t realize there were many on Earth.”
Applejack chokes on her words, irritated but entertaining the conversation. “I gotta say, Sunset, for someone on a big spiritual journey, you don’t seem to have done too much research.”
I wince. “I was hoping to hear what my friends had to say before I went down an Internet rabbit hole. I trust you all, and I’m more than a little scared of getting pulled into believing something crazy just because some hot-headed fundamentalist said so.”
She gives an empty laugh. “Now that there’s an idea I can get behind.”
I frown. “Did something happen? If this is a sore subject, I don’t mean to bring up bad feelings. Actually, you know what, I can just go, and we never have to talk about this again…” I trail off, thoughts spinning around, and turn away from her to take a step towards the road.
“Now hold up, Sunset,” she shouts, forcing me to halt. “You asked a question, and I fully intend to answer it as honestly as I can. But don’t be mad if the honest truth ain’t what you want to hear.”
I bite my lip. “I’m listening.”
Applejack sits down on the ground, leaning her back against the tree. “I don’t remember much from when I was that young, but I was to be raised a good Christian girl. I went to church with Ma and Pa every Sunday. Big Mac and Granny Smith, too.” She frowned. “Course, that was before Apple Bloom came around.”
I scratch my head. I’ve never heard Applejack talk about her parents, and it occurs to me I’ve never seen them around Sweet Apple Acres. I lower my voice and dare to ask, “What happened?”
She’s silent for the better part of a minute, keeping her eyes fixed on the dirt road in front of us, until she finally forces her aged stare to pierce mine. Before she speaks, her eyes drop again, and I regret asking the question.
“I was only four years old, but I will never forget the day my little sister was born, right over there in that barn.” Her eyes flare; whether from pain or anger I can’t say. “When Ma went into labour, she didn’t want no doctors. For a moment, that was fine, but she started having complications. Serious ones. Granny Smith begged Ma to go to a hospital, but in between the crying, Ma kept insisting on a natural birth. Said God would grant her a miracle, if that’s what it would take for her baby.” Applejack stops abruptly and grabs her Stetson, and in her eyes I register the faint glossiness of silent tears. “I guess God granted a miracle alright, since… Since baby Apple Bloom popped out and turned out just fine. But, I…” She swallows her words. “Well, soon enough, Ma on the other hand…”
I don’t need her to finish the sentence. I feel my stomach drop as I reach out for her hand on instinct. She grabs not only my hand but my entire upper body, wrapping me in a hug and leaning on me for support until she regains her composure. I realize this story is not one she shares often. Slowly she pulls back, keeping my grounding hand in hers, and continues.
“Granny Smith and Pa were beside her the whole time, but Big Mac and I were in the house. We only figured out what happened by Pa’s wailing, louder than anything either of us had heard our whole life. We’d heard him cry before, sure. Even in his happiest years with Ma, he had a lot of bad days, shed a lot of tears from the depression.”
She shudders, and I mirror.
“I reckon losing Ma was hardest on him out of all of us. Two months later, he…” She buries her head in my shoulder and breathes. “We lost Pa, Sunset. We had lost Ma, and before we finished crying, we lost Pa.”
I droop my head. “I’m sorry, Applejack. I didn’t realize.”
Applejack does not respond to that. Neither a socially obliged “it’s fine”, nor a lashing out for bringing up memories, nor a fresh wave of tears. Yet after a pause, she continues.
“Ma was more stubborn than I am, if you can believe it. Just because the Apples are Baptists doesn’t mean the Pears are, and my Ma? Buttercup? Her maiden name was Pear Butter.” Her teeth clench as she recalls the name. “Ma spent her last decade estranged from her own family. It shouldn’t’ve mattered what kind of ideas she grew up with. But her thoughts on God never changed. Or her thoughts on modern medicine, for that matter.”
As my head tilts at the allusion to medicine, it dawns on me just how little I know about the diversity of human religious beliefs, far beyond the spectrum of my own friends.
Applejack notices my confusion and covers her face with her hand. “The Pears are Christians, the kind that believe in prayers for healing. I guess that’d be fine, but the Pears, they believe prayer should replace medicine.” She breathes. “Ma was sure if she loved Pa and he loved God, his depression would cured. She was sure to the end if she prayed enough, God would deliver her baby. I have to say, if there’s one thing Apples and Pears have always had in common, it’s that we stick to our principles.” She nods to herself, unconvinced. “Ma stuck to hers to the end.”
I don’t know what to say, and it seems neither does Applejack. She bows her head but allows her eyes to drift up to the sky. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she were in prayer throughout her cries. Quietly she whispers, “When I was little, I wanted to believe Ma and Pa were happy up there. When I was churched, I heard all about Heaven and Hell, and after they passed, they told me since Ma and Pa accepted God’s grace, they were in Heaven.” She shakes her head. “It ain’t fair. If God loved Ma as much as she loved Him, why did this happen? And frankly, what about the good people around me who aren’t Christians? It makes no sense for you and Twilight to be going to Hell for being gay, or Rainbow Dash for just not getting churched, you hear? If Hell is anything like what I heard about in church as a kid, I can’t see an all-loving God sending anybody there.” She cracks a smile behind a veil of pain and lightly hits me in the arm. “Even you, Sunset Shimmer.”
I smirk. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, AJ.”
She returns the smirk, if only for an instant before it melts away. She tips her hat down, covering her eyes but leaving her nose poking out. She chokes on her next words. “And what about me, the grieving girl doubting God? Even if Ma and Pa were in Heaven, I’d never get to see them again.”
I don’t know how to respond.
She sighs. “If what I heard in Sunday School was right, I’m going to Hell one way or the other.”
“For your doubts?”
“Yeah.” She looked around the orchard awkwardly, as if asserting a right to private conversation even in her own home. “And, uh, you and Twilight aren’t the only ones in this here friend group who like girls.”
“Oh?” I mumble. “Oh! Oh…”
“Eeyup,” she says. “I’ve known that one for years. Bet you didn’t notice, though.”
“I can’t say I did, no.”
Applejack smirks. “Let me guess, your eyes were too focused on another girl friend to check who was checking you out?”
“What? No!” I yelp with a blush, then rub the back of my neck with my hand. “I mean, maybe?”
Her smirk only intensifies as she watches me fight it out with myself.
“Look, don’t expect a girl to notice all the other cute girls around after her cute best friend says ‘I love you’.” I shoot back airily.
She whistles. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“Twilight?” She nods, and I nod back. “Yeah. I do. The pony princess showed me friendship, but my Twi showed me love.”
“That’s awfuly corny.” She snickers, but before I can get defencive, she adds, “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
She gives a curt nod. “You two have something special.” I flash a warm smile. “There ain’t no easy way to say this, but I want what you two have. Now, I don’t care much for sex. If I had to go like Mary to stay in my community’s good graces, so be it. But if I stayed a Christian, I could never have settled down with a wife.”
“Hm.” I frown, torn between the pangs of sympathy and bubbling disagreement.
She notices my discontentment and says, “Spit it out, Sunset.”
I hesitate. It isn’t my place to be having this conversation. It’s my fault we’re talking about it all. But she did ask, and I’m not one to deny a friend. “Are you sure you couldn’t have that as a Christian?”
She raised an eyebrow, face glum. “These ain’t hypotheticals. When I was fourteen I came out to a ‘friend’ from the church youth group. Some friend he was. Word got back to the pastor, and he and I had a frank little chat. You know what that pastor told me?”
I shake my head.
“Said he understands I’m confused, and said he understood, since he was confused as a teenager too. He said he would pray for me, and told me I should pray that God helps me see the Light. He assured me that just like he has a wife now, someday I’d have a husband.”
“Applejack…”
“He also asked me not to bring it up at the youth group, didn’t want me confusing anyone else my age.” She wiggles her hands as she says “confusing”, with a mocking spooky voice. “You know what I said to that?” She grins. “I said he wouldn’t have to worry about that, ’cause I sure ain’t coming to youth group no more. Before he could protest, I up and left. Never been to church since.”
“Wow.” I grimace. “That’s one way to make an exit.”
Applejack grins. “One to do Rarity proud, I hope. Besides the storming out of church bit. Not so sure she’d be proud of me for that part.”
I laugh. “Maybe not, but I bet she’d have some choice words for your pastor if she had the chance.” Butchering the pronunciation, I mimic, “Mange de la merde, ahem, pardon my French.”
Applejack returns my laugh. I notice her cheeks are a faint pink. “Alright, now your turn. Spill the beans, AJ.”
“What beans?” She avoids my eyes.
“You’re blushing,” I point out. “Talk.”
Applejack looks down, an ineffective means of hiding said blush. “I, well, got a crush, you see.” I open my mouth, prompting her. “On a girl.”
My mouth purses into an o. “You and Rarity?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wow.” I blink. “How did I miss that one?”
“I can be discreet when I need to be.” Applejack shrugs. “And I’m not sure Rarity swings our way.”
“You sure about that?” I raise an eyebrow. “Now that I think about it, the two of you are quite affectionate, physically speaking.”
Applejack’s blush deepens.
“D’you think I have a shot with her?”
“Honestly? No idea.” I look at her reassuringly, though I admit the look is hard to distinguish from pity. “You won’t find out if you don’t ask.”
“I can’t do that!” Applejack shut her eyes. “Even if I were ready to tell her about those feelings, I can’t. Rarity Belle is a Catholic, you know? She’s a Christian, Sunset.”
“So?”
“Look, I don’t mean to stereotype, but we both know what the Bible thinks of people like us.”
I frown, thinking back on Winter Brown’s overt wish for Twilight and I to marry. “Twilight’s congregation seemed comfortable around us as a couple, even though the Jewish Bible isn’t always the kindest to queer people.”
Applejack shakes her head. “Isn’t Twilight’s congregation reform Jewish?”
“Odd detail for you to know, but yes, I think so.”
“Ain’t the same, Sunset.”
I rack my brain. “What about Fluttershy? When Twilight came out last year, Fluttershy said…”
“Said, ‘I’m proud of you, Twilight’? Yeah, I remember.”
“There you go,” I beam. “Fluttershy is Christian to the core. Are you telling me she was lying about being proud of Twilight?”
“I don’t think so,” Applejack says. “But people can believe all sorts of contradictions when they have to. You said you went to Fluttershy’s church, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Do you honestly think it’d have gone over well if you stood up and said you’re bi?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But Fluttershy doesn’t support us in spite of being a Christian. She supports us because of her Christian obligation to love. That has to count for something.”
“Maybe,” Applejack says. “Maybe for now. But maybe some day she’ll hear a sermon from a pastor like mine, or read the wrong Bible verse, and snap, we won’t be welcome in her life anymore.” Disgust bubbles up in her mouth. “Or worse, we’ll become her new project. Try and set us straight in the name of Jesus, y’know?”
“Hey.” I cross my arms. “Fluttershy’s our friend. You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She’s not going to abandon us.”
“Ain’t she?” Applejack fumes.
“No. I know you’re scared, but don’t you trust Fluttershy at all?”
Applejack sighs. “Scared. Yeah. Sure.”
“Fluttershy doesn’t know you’re worried about this, does she?”
“No,” Applejack mumbles. “If she hasn’t gotten the idea already, I don’t want to plant the seed.”
I frown. “I take it Rarity doesn’t know either.”
Applejack shrugs uncomfortably. “My worry about Rarity ain’t her views. It’s her commitment to what’s proper. I don’t know how that’d go down, coming out to her. Maybe now a proper Catholic can be gay, with the new pope and all. I don’t know.”
I look at Applejack with concern. “Do you really think Rarity would put decorum over her friends?”
“No,” Applejack relents. “I guess I am being a bit silly here. Fluttershy and Rares didn’t do nothing to hurt you, me, or Twilight. In my head, I know that. It’s just taking time to get that through to my heart.”
“I understand.” I bite my lip. “Do you mind if I suggest something dumb?”
Applejack raises an eyebrow, but says, “Go ahead.”
“Maybe go to church with Rarity, one of these days. She’ll be receptive, given how enthusiastic she was to have me along for the ride.” Although Applejack tenses up, I continue, “Her church is different from what you grew up with. It might help you work through your fears and let you both gain some empathy for each other.” I smirk innocently. “Oh, and it’ll give you time alone together.” I wag my eyebrows. “I hear the pews are quite crowded on Christmas. All you’ll need is some mistletoe, and…”
“Quiet, Sunset.” Applejack chortles. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
She pauses, unsure of herself, and then embraces me. I reciprocate.
“Thank you, Applejack.”