The night breeze dries the ink on the page of the open journal lying in front of my window. I finished the first entry. It’s addressed to “My dear daughter.” According to the clock on my wall, it’s 2:00 AM. I had to finish the entry or else it would keep me awake. Under the journal sits my discharge papers. If I try to get a job anywhere I’m going to have to show my possible employer those if they request them. I doubt they won’t once they figure out I was a mental patient. Hopefully after finding out that I attacked a girl just because she hummed and then believed I was a dog for years they will decide that they still want me to work for them. I doubt any employer would be so understanding. Or desperate.
I close the journal and put it away in my desk. My parents kept my room exactly as I used to four years ago. Everything has been dusted and the floors swept but that’s all that’s been touched. I’m still not sure how to tell them. I’m certain they’re asleep by now anyway. I’m not scared that they’re going to kick me out or hate me. I’m just scared that I’ve disappointed them. That’s worse than anger.
I shrug out of my dress suit and leave it on the floor so I can crawl into bed. I know the longer I wait the more disappointed and hurt they will be. I’m just...I don’t know how to tell them. How do I even start that conversation? Hey, Mom, guess what? I’m already a mother and the child is half chaos...While it might spice up a dull conversation at the dinner table I doubt it would be the correct way to break the news.
I bury my head under the covers until the sun rises.
For the 20th time this week it happens. I hand my resumé to the pony behind the desk, this one is a blue stallion with a green mane, and he looks over it, sees my last place of employment, then looks up.
“I see you were employed at Ponyville Hospital. What did you do there?”
“I was a guard.” I say. I’ve rehearsed that line so many times now I’m starting to believe it.
“I see. You were a guard for four years it seems. Did you enjoy it?”
“I...I think so. I wasn’t really needed often.”
“Did you get along well with your coworkers?”
“I believe so. I never heard them complain about me.”
“I see you live in Saddleburne. Why did you work so far away from home?”
“I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Well, where did you live when you worked at the hospital? You don’t have the address listed.” He asks. Well, here it goes again.
“I lived at the hospital.”
“Did you go home when you weren’t working?”
“No, I had to stay at the hospital.”
“Why would they make you live at the hospital if you were only there as a guard?” Usually it takes longer for them to get to that question.
“I was also a patient there.” I say and let him work it out in his mind.
“But if you were a...” realization comes to him, “Oh...” he leans back into his chair, “The Useful Act wasn’t it?” I nod, “I didn’t think about that...”
“Not many ponies do.” I say. I can feel my disappointment coming already. I know I’m done. He just has to be polite enough to tell me instead of making me wait. I know what will happen next.
“Well...do you have your discharge papers?” I dig into the saddlebag next to me and pull out the forms, then pass them to him with my mouth. When he gets them he scans the first page. His expression doesn’t change until the second page, detailing what triggered my attack on Azalea. His eyes grow and he leans away from the paper. His head snaps back up to look at me in surprise.
“I was acquitted.” I offer weakly. He clears his throat and blinks down at my paper again. He hasn’t read the third page yet but I doubt he will. Nopony has yet. Once they seem why I went crazy, they don’t bother to read how the doctors know I’m sane. He looks back up at me and gives a rushed sigh.
“Well, I see that. I have to be honest, but, I don’t know if insurance will cover us taking you on even with the Useful Act in place.”
“I understand...”
“I mean, if you were still covered—”
“Yes. I know. Coverage stops as soon as they think I’m ready to re-enter society.”
His eyes fall back down to the paper as he slides my forms across the somewhat cluttered desk.
“I am sorry. I know it has to be hard.”
I pick the papers and place them back into my bag neatly. I don’t need his pity. Pity doesn’t give me a job.
“I’ll get used to it.”
“Well, best of luck to you, Miss Screwloose.”
“Thank you for your time.” I say, throwing my saddlebag on and leaving as quickly as possible. My eyes are starting to leak. I’ll try some other places tomorrow. Again.
The Useful Act. It was only useful to me when I was barking at everything and on drugs to curb my more violent impulses. The Act helped me until it became a name I would have to live under when it no longer applied. The income it gave me wasn’t enough to live off of. It was more of a pittance to give to my parents, making them feel like I was at least appreciated.
Ponies may not often go insane in Equestria to the degree that I did, but there is a “provision” for them if they do. If they are safe enough to be around and can perform a task, they are automatically given that job and provided for. The same goes for ponies born disabled, though depending on their disability, they may demand a little more compensation so they can be independent instead of being looked after like a...like I was. I was more of a pet than a pony, I was just a little more expensive. Although, in my case, I was “paid” if they ever needed a guard dog but most of my payments went towards treatment costs. If I didn’t get better, I stayed “useful” but they had to take care of me. It wouldn’t have been a bad life if I had just stayed insane. I lost my “usefulness” when I got my mind back. I think my mind just got tired of playing games with me and decided to return to normal. If only my situation could do that. I can figure out how to live on my own and support a daughter, but to do that I need a job...and very understanding parents.
I rest my hooves on a bench in the park; my saddlebag in a lump next to me. At least today is beautiful. There is just enough cloud cover in the skies to keep the day from getting too hot. I smile to see a proud stallion walk by with his daughter hopping besides him, prattling about school that day. Some day that will be me: my daughter Mayhem and I walking back from school as she tells me every detail about her day. Will she bounce excitedly like that little filly? Will she prattle? With other parents look at me and share my joy? Or will they have revulsion for my daughter because of her eyes? I watch the father bend down to let his daughter onto his back. At least I know she’ll have me, once I find her.
Why do I have to worry about this now? Today is gorgeous and—
How did my bench get flipped over? Letters float to the ground and land on me like snowflakes.
“Eh! Mh fwo fahmmn!” A grey pegasus puffs around a mouthful of letters. She spits them out and nudges me roughly. I think she’s trying to help me stand.
“Oh. I’m ok are y—?”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you and I was going to sit on the bench for a second to put some letters in my bag but then I saw you were in the bench and I had to pull up but I lost direction. And I just don’t know what went wrong!” she says, breaking into a sob and collapsing onto the grass. Her shoulders heave with each wail that comes from her gaping mouth as tears gush from her eyes.
“It’s ok! Just calm down,” I say, standing up, “and...I don’t know what all I can do, but let me help you.”
“No! I got it!” She chirps, her eyes mysteriously dry again. She tries to stand but I think her wings get confused because she flies, muzzle-first, into the now vertical seat of the bench, knocking it back, upright, into its place. I scoot some letters together in a pile with my hoof as she rolls off the bench and falls on her hooves. She shakes her head wildly and her eyes spin around before settling in two different directions. Her gray hat is lopsided and covering her right ear. The only things that aren’t knocked around about are her perfectly straight, yellow mane and tail. Ponies all around the park are stopping to stare at us. Her constant stream of babbling nonsense isn’t helping.
“No, really, it’s all right. You don’t have to feel bad.” I explain, glancing around for other letters.
“Wait...what?” she asks, staring at me, snapped out of a thought.
“I...I wanted you to know you don’t have to feel bad about crashing into me. It’s fine, really.”
“Oh yeah. I was thinking how I really don’t need zapapple jam.”
“How did you even—”
“I’m late!” she squeaks, her blastoff knocking me over again. What just happened?
As I stand up I see that she had forgotten a few letters in her haste. I sigh and gather them up. The post office will take care of them...hopefully. After I drop these off I can catch the train back home. I’ll probably search a little closer to home tomorrow but I figured I’d start out as far as I’m willing to commute and work my way closer to home. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to my parents.
The bell above the door rings as it bounces up and down on it’s metal hanger to announce me. A hassled-looking stallion stands behind the counter. I drop the letters and he looks at them with apprehension.
“I think one of the mailponies dropped these.” I explain politely.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. The way things have been. Derpy been pushed in just about every direction. She doesn't even work here but she was transferred to replace the last one that left. I’ll tell you: two ponies have left to move to Canterlot, one moved away to be with family in Appleloosa, my other pegasi went to the Wonderbolt Academy, and four went away to study in the Crystal kingdom! Derpy is my only pegasus left here and we’re down to two unicorns per shift left to sort everything while the earth ponies are working overtime to move all the packages off the train. Say...” he says, looking at me with an idea brewing in his tired eyes.
The bell above the door rings again an hour later. Just like that. My saddlebags are a touch heavier with a package of clothes. I hadn’t intended to stay that long, but I figure that Mom and Dad won’t mind when they realize why I’m late. I hadn’t planned on applying for the Brayington Pony Postal Service...but, they’re the only ones crazy enough to offer me a steady paycheck. My heart burns in my chest as I settle down onto one of the seats of my train car. I don’t understand how a job could have shown up so conveniently but it did.
I’m now one step closer to Mayhem.