//------------------------------// // Chapter 22 : Hello...? // Story: My Little Marriage : Mary is a Mare // by MerlosTheMad //------------------------------// December 23rd 2023, Friday Mary Morris' Living Room Mary chewed her food mechanically, watching the news on the television with a bored expression. She had a blanket laid over herself with the intent of keeping the cold out. It was winter, and they didn't keep the heating turned up constantly in an effort to cut back on expenses. They weren't as far north as say, Canada, but it was December, and Christmas was just around the corner. Heaving a tired breath, Mary adjusted her sitting position from that of a normal person, and laid on her side instead. It wasn't how she liked laying, but lately anything else was plain uncomfortable. Her stomach ached when she didn't. A dark sense of foreboding crept into the back of Mary's thoughts without warning. Her gaze flung from watching the television and cast itself around the room quickly. It didn't seem as though there were anyone else there, however. Shrugging, she leaned over her plate and picked up another peanut butter smeared piece of celery, chewing it contentedly. Afterwards, she placidly and calmly washed it down with some water from her glass. "Mommy!" Anna cried out, arms flung out to her sides, and eyes locked onto their target. "AH—!" Mary didn't know where her daughter had come from, or how she had somehow entered the room without being heard, but she was suddenly leaping onto her like a ninja appearing from the shadows, bent on scoring their next kill. "N-no—!" Was all Mary managed to get out, before oofing loudly as her daughter landed awkwardly on her side. "Anna, what- You could have hurt me, are you crazy!?" She struggled to turn her head around enough to see her daughter, but the young girl was in her blind-spot, nuzzling her neck and hair. "What have I said about horseplay, Anna?" Her eyes tracked some of the footprints on a nearby wall, something that had been cropping up over the last few months. Anna looked up sheepishly, a wide grin splitting her face. "...Not while you're the horse?" she hesitantly murmured out, then began her hugging once again. "Exactly, what would you have done if you hurt me, Anna? Or much worse, yourself?" Mary watched her brown haired daughter's head rub affectionately against her, resisting the urge to 'aaw' aloud and remain stern in the face of cuteness. The girl took a great deal of enjoyment out of snuggling with her far more hug-able as of late mother. "Hurt you?" She lifted her head and gave her mom a skeptical look, then began nuzzling again anyway, her dark head of hair obscuring her face. "Naw, you're way tougher since becoming a pony, Mom, and way, way warmer." Her arms wrapped around the longer neck her mom had gotten and rested against its side contentedly taking up a resting position. "Whatcha watchin'?" Mary's expression thinned until she was glaring from the corner of her eye at her daughter, snuggling contentedly on top of her. "Anna..." She began warningly, "I'm not a personal radiator, get off of me." Anna look up with a desperate, heart broken look. "But Mooooom." The look quickly reshaped itself back into unmistakable, unrestrained cheer. "I'll leave if you let me open one of my presents, right now!" Her hands clasped in front of her as she began chanting please over and over. A hoof that Mary had managed to work to her side booped Anna on the nose. "You'll climb off now, or you won't get the present that you always get the night before." She continued over another disappointed sound from her daughter. "Please, dear? Mom's still not feeling well." It had been a long, eventful transition, but Mary was content with where she had ended up as a parent. Minus the... pony part of the equation, and in no way would she ever thank her becoming a pony for it. Regardless, both speaking to, and negotiating with her children had become a great deal easier since early fall, when everything began... A few months ago she wouldn't be asking her Anna to hop off, but telling her. In a way, it was almost as if she had acquired a new talent for speaking to them. Anna sat further back on the couch, no longer invading her mother's personal space. A solid pout fixed itself onto her face. "But it's cooold upstairs and you make enough heat for the whole room! Can you take me to Megan's house? Her parents keep the heat on at least." Mary looked from the TV and flashed a level look to Anna. At times like these as a parent, a person sometimes realizes there's a chance that you were being played from the beginning, just because you don't know all the details of what was being said. Mary considered that on one hand, Anna had immediately made to butter her with affection, then nonchalantly request that she go to a friend's house; after presumably losing a battle. This, in the terms of warfare is a classic feint, and something that Anna was an expert in executing. On the other hand, she was right, the house was cold, and Mary had just insisted that she not lay atop her and steal her heat; this, in turn, created a sense of both pity and guilt from the mare. It seemed, to Mary, that the break down of everything was simply that Anna could have approached with the full intentions of trying to coax a ride to a friend's house through the snow. It also stood to reason, however, that the conclusion could have been made by her daughter after being denied the snuggles. Mary wasn't above being outsmarted in the field of family combat, but for the time being she was sore, and did not wish to rise long enough to don her pony shaped winter clothes. Thus, she decided a compromise was in order. Mary let out a sigh and gave Anna a smile. The next response would tell her exactly what Anna had originally set out for in the first place, whether it be to guilt presents out of her, steal heat, or negotiate a ride to her friend's house. She mused on one last thing, much as she did nearly everyday since having her firstborn. There's never a dull moment, with Motherhood. "Come here, baby, I'll make room and you can sit with me under the blankets, okay? But no laying on top of Mom." Anna remained where she was, watching as her mom shifted and pulled herself up to lean more on the couch's armrest. Her expression shifted from the blank look of anticipation, into a twinge of soured disappointment. Mary caught that from the corner of her eye as she resettled into watching the television. Hah, I still got it. She wanted presents or a ride to Megan's this time. In her head, she pictured herself blowing the smoke from the barrel of a gun in victory. "Nooo, it's okay, Mom. I'll just put on a sweater. You're watching the news anyway, I wouldn't get caught dead paying attention to that tripe." Anna stuck her tongue out, and giggling, lept from the couch. Mary's jaw dropped as she watched her daughter vacate the premises. "Hey! Young Lady- Where..." She trailed off, unsure of exactly what she was going to say. "Where did you learn the word tripe?" She hadn't been sure if that was actually a moment to say something parental, or be confused. After stuttering, the right thing seemed to be going with the latter. Anna slid to a stop at the doorway and hummed in thought. "I dunno, oh- It was Grandpa." Grinning innocently, she sidestepped out of view around the bend. Mary sat on the couch motionless for a moment longer, then slumped back into a more comfortable position. Well, at least she's learning new things. Her head shook, jostling the mane of hair that was tied in her favorite, trademarked french-braid. It had taken her nearly three months to get the hang of hooves enough to do it on her own, and it wasn't perfect or easy, but she could tie it once again. Still, usually when Mary wore it, Anna had a hand—or two—in helping to fix the hair up properly. The help was very useful and welcomed by Mary, too. She had never quite gotten used to the way her hair grew a littler further down the back of her head, just like a mane would. The braid tossed itself from behind Mary's head to lay over her shoulder, catching her eye. She regarded the length of multicolored hair, draped just so that it lay across her chest. Using one hoof, the braid drooped in her grip as she lifted it, then laid it back behind herself. Mary rolled over on the couch, exhaling a breath and putting the past behind her once again by pushing it out of her mind, and trying to keep it there. There were bigger things in front of herself that required facing; namely, well, herself... That is to say, her stomach. She stared at the spot where it lay, well concealed under her shirt and the blanket. There was hardly any noticeable difference, not to anyone else at least. But, she noticed, and it had gotten her thinking. God, I just had to get cocky and start shoveling ho-hos down my gullet. Mary groaned and flung her head back, letting it hang off the edge of the couch a full minute until she felt blood rushing to her head. When she brought it back up, she stared at the stomach again, and angrily. She had made the mistake of ceasing to care about her diet some time ago. After all, as a pony she didn't exactly have a figure any longer that needed watching, or so she had thought. I just don't get why I can't get rid of it, maybe ponies get blubber during the winter no matter what? No, that would be stupid. Uggh, still, you would think after hundreds of daily sit ups the thing would give up. She winced and looked at her snack, the celery and peanut butter, thinking desperately how she didn't want to cut out even that little concession, too. Mary's mouth thinned and her brow creased into a determined, slightly angry look, staring at the food on the side table. I have to give up my social life, my love of bacon, normalcy, fine. But I refuse to budge an inch on my diet any more than that! Her teeth launched forward determinedly and snatched a piece of delicious, savory, crunchy-peanut butter covered celery, crunching it in her mouth with gusto and fervor. Once finished, she let out a contented sound and laid her head back again on the couch's armrest. "Mom?" A youngish voice entered the room. The velocity at which Mary simultaneously squawked and rolled off of the couch would have impressed anyone with an eye for speed or moving quickly. The blanket and her momentum saw to it to land her squarely on her stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of her, tangled up as she was. A pained grunt and a couple groans of discomfort coughed their way out of her as she shakily rose up to all fours. "Yes, Bobby?" she asked the prodigal son behind her. Mary's son stared back at her from the top of the stairs, making his way down them slowly after she looked up. "Uh, nothing... nothing at all, Mom." His look of confusion melted into one of mirth as he got closer to the middle, sitting on the railing and sliding down the rest of the way in a show of recklessness. "I'll be in the garage, actually, had an idea for a new song, if you wanna listen." Mary scowled, watching the wood of the old stairwell bend and wobble under Bobby's sixteen year old weight. She set her sternest look on her face and popped up onto two legs. This way, she at least came somewhat close to his height. Even standing like that, however, he beat her by almost a foot. The boy was getting taller every year, too, likely destined to be as tall as his father one day. "Robert, what have I told you about sliding down the railing like that?" Mary put her front hooves on her hips and stepped carefully over the blanket, now on the floor where she'd landed. Her head shot up again as soon as the obstacle was cleared, and she raised an eyebrow quizzically at her son. Bobby, inhaled slowly and gave the railing a contemptuous look, in order to avoid giving it to his mother. "Not to, cause it could break." His shaggy head of hair turned back to face her, a sincere grin making up his expression. "I'll take that as a no about listening to the song then?" He was already making his own way around the corner. Mary took a brief second to reflect on how little she cared for her son's preferred preference of music. She loved all kinds of music, without much exception... just not the kind that sounded more as if it had been weaponized with the intent to kill, like what her son played. "No, I think I'll pass, dear. Dinner's in a couple hours so come back inside when you're ready to eat." Mary knew telling Bobby to come and get food was a little pointless. He hadn't sat at the table to eat with them as a family in years. Although, he did, actually, a couple of weeks ago. The memory came back to her, as much a surprise then as it had been when it happened. A happy smirk replaced the dark look she'd taken as her son vacated the room. He's going to be impossible to control once we let him have his license, though... Mary straightened her shorts and t-shirt some, then turned around and fell back down to all fours, the position which she loathed but begrudgingly had to admit was far more comfortable for her. Especially, as of late. If turning into a pony initially had thrown off Mary's sense of stability and balance by a huge margin—what with the addition of a new counter-weight on her butt and the loss of two others on her chest—then what she was experiencing lately was a pittance compared to that. Still, she was aggravatingly trying to reacquire the skill with which she had begun walking on two legs just a few short weeks ago. Mary glared at her shirt again as she bunched up the blanket and laid back out on the couch, the television still yammering in the background. She thought the culprit of her latest balance issues was obvious enough, but didn't want to admit that eating without prejudice had been the cause. Honestly, it wasn't that much! Just a few things to help me cheer up on bad days... The ice cream had been especially good, and Stan had bought all she wanted. Mary's expression saddened as she turned to watch the TV again. It didn't last, her eyes drifted back down, unbidden, to the curiosity at her middle. Mary looked around, ensuring the coast was clear, then rolled over onto her back, gut pointed up. A sheepish hoof poked it. It was just her stomach, a little bigger and slightly furry, but nothing special. Bah, it's just water retention coupled with the love of sweets. Rolling her eyes nonchalantly she rolled back over with a huff and refocused on the TV. I gotta admit though, it freaks me out seeing how much I kind of but don't really look like a person. I'm starting to think this would be a lot less freaky if I didn't look so much like that cartoo— The phone rang, loudly and suddenly, cutting off her thoughts. Mary groaned and stared into the dining room where one phone hung, ringing away with a perceived evil delight at making her get up. I just laid back doooown, she moaned internally, slapping a hoof gently against her forehead. That was one thing she'd gotten the hang of almost day one; being careful with your head when hooves were a concern. Mary's hooves fought their way out from underneath the blanket once again and landed a moment later on the plush carpet. She expediently made her way across the floor and towards the electronics device, eager to get out of the chill that December had descended onto her house. After propping herself up against the wall, one of Mary's legs worked its weird magic and grabbed the phone off the cradle. She held it against one large, tufted ear. No one spoke immediately on the line. "Hello...?" Mary called to the caller. She listened more and more intently to the phone, the silence coming through the receiver stubbornly remaining. Static began to pick up suddenly, in both volume and intensity just before Mary began to hang up. Her expression twisted into a confused look of irritation. "Ow!" The mare grimaced and pulled the phone away from her fuzzy ears, both twitching in pain. The phone had burst with a loud squelching noise. She glared down at the thing, and began hanging it up again. "Hello? Mary?" At the last second a voice came through the phone and reached Mary, just before it clicked onto the cradle. It was vaguely familiar. Mary brought the phone back down to speak into it. "Hi? Who is this?" Another long, pregnant pause held in the air, until the speaker responded back. "It's Marge silly! Sorry for that, my cellphone is one of those old iPhone things. It needs upgraded badly. Speaking of which, wasn't that weird when Microsoft finally bought Apple? Boy a lot of strange things happened that year now that I think about it—" "Marge," Mary leaned back against the wall, a reluctant and faint smile edged with tiredness on her muzzle. "Just get to the point, girl, was there something you were calling about?" "Oh, why yes! Yes there was, actually, a few somethings. Several in fact! Shall I just get to the point then?" Marge's voice was its usual, sing-songy tone. Somehow the older woman managed to sound as though she had scripted everything she said ahead of time, adding in bits of melody to her voice where you wouldn't expect it. "If you'd like," Mary responded back in a kindly voice. "Of course, if this has anything to do with those 'fan-fiction' things you keep insisting might hold the key to my becoming human again, then you can just hang up right now and save us both the trouble of me sitting through that again." She listened smugly as the woman on the other end of the line let out a depressed sigh of defeat and misery. "But Mary, did you at least read the ones I marked as recreational? I really think you would enjoy them! What about Project Sunflower? It's uncanny what kind of similarities you have with—" "Marge—! Marge, look, listen, whatever is happening, isn't something to do with that stuff. I get it, I sort of look like them, and the thing I dreamed about months ago was... admittedly uncannily like the princess in the show. I hope I dream about her again and wasn't being delusional or something because of a childhood memory of her. But for my sake and my family's, I gotta stay focused on my life, and getting to the bottom of this comes second. It's just... it's crazy, you know, and that means dangerous, too." Mary had gone over this talk with Marge once or twice already, but the other woman was incorrigible, not to mention dedicated to the old 'following'. Marge hummed from the other side of the line for five seconds straight. "Alright, Mary, I'm sorry. I just think that they're good is all and might give you another perspective on things. I wouldn't be surprised if one of the thousands of stories about humans turning into ponies was actually similar to—" Mary stamped a hoof in aggravated frustration, her temper at its limit. "Marge—" She bit her lip though, stifling the curse she had been about to spew. Gently, she inhaled a slow breath and brought a hoof to her chest, then extended it out just as slowly as the breath had left her. The symbolism of the act had proven to be useful since she learned the trick, admittedly, being one useful thing a certain show had given her. "So, moving on," Mary began, an overly wide smile on her face. "How's your husband doing?" "Mitch?" Marge responded questioningly. "Oh, as well as you would expect any old grease monkey like him to be doing. It's almost zero degrees in his stupid garage and he still insists after twenty years to be elbow deep in an engine, tinkering of all things. Sometimes I wonder why I married him, putting me through stuff like this." Mary laid her head back against the wall, grinning knowingly. "Love will make us do crazy things, dear." She felt her back starting to go numb from standing upright too long, even leaning against the wall. Begrudgingly she let herself fall back to all fours. "That it will." Marge acknowledged, her voice taking a measure of wan thoughtfulness through the phone. "Oh! By the way, the other thing that I wanted to tell you. There was the most peculiar thing I heard the other day at the quilt guild, I'm not sure what Faith meant, but—" The other line began to ring, the phone letting Mary know that there was another call, patiently waiting for her. Oh thank you deus ex machina. Mary breathed out a sigh of relief and stood back up on two legs. She didn't hate talking to Marge, but she was at a stage where any break from speaking to the woman was instinctively perceived as a joyous occasion. "Hang on, Marge, there's a call on the other line... can I get back to you later?" Marge responded in the same placid, merry tone. "Sure thing, hon! Whenever you'd like. You don't need to though, that thing with Faith isn't serious, I think. Anyhow I know you'll be busy with the holidays just like me, I'll be out of town myself. I called up my mother the other day and she had actually forgotten to invite me to the family reunion! Hah! Of all the things... I swear she gets loonier every year—" Mary grounded her teeth, grinning coolly to maintain her calm. "True! True-" she finally interrupted. "I've got a lot going on after all. Talk to you soon, and... please don't bring up those things again, or anything to do with ponies, unless it really is a cure, okay!?" The other end of the line sighed, but acknowledged the mare's terms. After a quick trade of goodbyes and well wishes, thankfully free of Marge's ADD that time, Mary switched the phone to the other line, and the incoming call. After a few seconds of waiting, the other end remained quiet. Mary groaned in dismay, certain she had missed the called, but, there was no dial tone. "Hello...?" The orange mare called out tentatively. "Is there anyone there?" Huh, must have been a wrong number. Well, whoever you were, where ever you are, thank you. Smiling widely, she reached up to hang the phone up. Just before hanging up, a strained, hurried sounding voice responded. "H-hello? Hello? Are you still there?" Razza-frazza-grr. Mary shifted where she stood in the kitchen doorway, exhaling a breath. Standing up for so long was beginning to take its toll on her. "Yes, may I ask who is calling?" She called out in her sweetest sounding of voices, cooing the words lovingly to whomever had called her. She held up one of her hooves and inspected it idly while listening to the stranger on the phone. Oddly, the voice didn't sound like anyone she knew; it did sound familiar, though. "Uhm... I'm just somepony who needs to know something. Are you... Mary Morris?" The voice asked. Mary blinked and looked up from inspecting her hoof idly. She stared at the phone, holding it out at leg's length as if it were dangerous. Tentatively, she put it back to her ear and repeated herself. "Who is this?"