The look Derpy gives me is one I have seen many, many times.
From my mother, and teachers, and bosses, my husband, and strangers on the street.
It’s a look that says: “Great job, Goldie, now you’ve gone and fucked it all up.”
Nevermind the fact the current predicament is technically Derpy’s fault.
I understand, at least objectively, why the blame is being placed on my shoulders. Of course, that says nothing about what I’m going to do about it.
Nevertheless, the hallway is silent. A bubble.
Dinky sniffles slightly, on the verge of tears, as Derpy and I stand speechless.
Then her mother-mode springs to action, and she’s tearing down the hallway, hoofsteps echoing off the walls.
I walk slowly enough that I can’t hear what Derpy’s saying to her, but I’m sure it’s pretty consoling, because Dinky already looks like she’s feeling better. Better than I could do, probably.
I keep my distance, for good reason.
When her tears are finally reduced to just sniffles, she looks up at me, her eyes giant. The hallway is silent, as if the universe is poised for whatever prophecy is about to come out of this filly’s mouth.
“Do you love me, Mama?”
It’s a funny question.
I’ve actually been asked a similar thing a couple times before.
Hearing her say that brings up memories I’d rather not be there.
Do you love him, Goldie? Like really. I mean, can you see yourself with him for the rest of your life? Being Golden Script? That sounds so Canterlot... Golden Script. Like you’d be schmoozing with fashion designers and art critics. But that’s not you. You’re just a regular old country mare from Ponyville, Golden. Someday you’re going to have to remember that.
Okay, okay, I get that. I understand, but... just tell me, Golden, because I’m not really sure. Do you even love me? No, don’t answer that... look, I’m leaving... I’m going to go catch my train in a few minutes. Just... figure it out while I’m gone, okay?
I have a question for you, based on how it sounds from your letters. I know it’s one you have within your heart as well, though I suspect you are afraid to admit it. Do you love her? I don’t need the answer; it’s a question for you. Just something I’d like you to ponder betwixt now and out next exchange. This letter may seem unsatisfying to you, but I’m afraid that’s all I’m able to express. I understand the predicament you are in, but there isn’t much I can do for you. You can’t exactly escape this.
It was warmer then.
It’s started snowing and it’s sticking to my eyelashes.
I’m not going to cry for fear the teardrops will freeze to my face, though Celestia knows I want to.
Hoofsteps enter my soundfield, and then the hooves come into view.
I don’t dare look up.
“Hey.”
He sits down on the stoop next to me and shivers from the cold against his flank. Usually he’d nuzzle up to me and make some silly joke about warming me up somehow.
We sit there in silence, watching the snow softly swirling to the ground.
“I heard what happened.”
“Yeah, well obviously, since you’re here. How’d they reach you so fast anyway?”
“Uh, carrier pigeon.”
“In the snow?”
“I guess.”
“Look, Goldie, I...” He clears his throat. “What the fuck, Goldie? Seriously, I-”
I finally make eye contact with him.
“Script, it’s not like that.” I can feel the tears fighting to spill. “You don’t... understand. I fucked it all up.” It’s probably the first time I’ve said that, out loud. Without any pride behind it, at least.
“Yeah, well you’re damn well right about that.”
“Don’t be that way, Script.”
“Really? How do you want me to be, then?”
“Script...”
“I mean... I can’t even fathom how this all happened.”
“I can explain. I can explain.”
“I don’t think I even want you to, Golden.”
“I-”
“Don’t.”
We're silent again. While his silence asserts his power, mine just signifies... weakness.
“What are we going to do, Script?” And here come the tears.
“No, Golden. What are you going to do?”
These bubbles are becoming cliche.
I glance up at the clock reflexively when I come back inside.
It’s been a while, which is a bit of an understatement.
The same unicorn escorts me (in silence) to the aforementioned arts and crafts room, then quickly leaves.
This room, like every single one in this building that I’ve ever seen, is empty, other than me and my entourage. It’s almost as if it’s haunted and we’re just rebellious teens.
I stand awkwardly in the doorway, just watching Dinky and Derpy make little houses out of various junk together.
This room’s too... sterile to be a place of creativity. It’s more than a bit unsettling.
Derpy beckons me over and nudges Dinky. She beams up at me.
“Hi Dinky. How was your day with your mom?”
She smiles even wider and launches into the details of her entire day. As usual, I tune her out completely.
Once she’s finished, Derpy politely tells her daughter that we need to talk and brings me into the hall. I attempt to take deep breaths.
“I take it Written Script came?”
“Yeah. And left.”
“What did he say?”
“Lots of stuff.”
“Golden, if you’re going to be difficult-”
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m sorry, I’m just in a difficult place currently.”
She smirks slightly.
“You? You’re in a bad place, Golden? Who’s the one bucking locked up here? Who’s the one who only gets to see her daughter for a few hours each month, and has to watch her leave with somepony who doesn’t give a buck about her? Yeah, I know. Your life is so bucking hard, blah blah blah.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
“Okay, yeah, whatever. You deserve everything coming to you, Golden. It’s all your fault.”
She turns toward the door, leaving me stranded, both physically and mentally.
So I do something bold.
“Hey Derpy, remember when you got your cutie mark?”
“Just take my daughter and go, Golden.”
I ignore this.
“You ran to the farm to tell me the second you got it. You were so happy. I remember that you weren’t the last one in our class to get yours, more like the middle. We lie on the floor of the hayloft for hours, hours, and talked about it. What it meant, and stuff. We thought that thing would solve all your problems, and nopony would bully you anymore. And I- I was so jealous of you, so bucking jealous, because I’d already gotten mine, and it was boring and predictable. But yours... your cutie mark was just plain awesome.”
“It didn’t solve anything. If anything, it made it all worse.”
“I’m still jealous of you, Derpy.”
“Just take my daughter and go, Golden.”
The world seems to be floating around me, rather than me going through it.
Dinky’s next to me, then cold again, then we’re sitting down, on a train.
She’s silent from the concentration needed in order to make the little ponies move around her junk dollhouse.
And me? I'm just watching the snow-covered hills roll by.
Eventually, she stops playing altogether, and looks up at me.
“Hey Mama, are you okay?”
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Well... are you gonna be?”
“I don’t know, Dinky, I don’t know.”
“But... we’re going home now, right? And then Daddy will come home, and we’ll all be back together again, right?”
“Yeah. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“Definitely!”
I lean over and kiss her on the top of her head.
“I love you.”
I don’t.