I MAY GIVE the impression of being kind of a lonely guy, and it's true. Like Peach Spark, I moved here for the work, but actually for another reason. My engagement had failed and I wanted to put some distance between myself and Cindy, and I had friends in the metro area. One of them, Laurie, had known about an opening at her garden center, and another, Barrett, had known about a vacancy in his apartment building. It had all worked out perfectly, so I moved in and took the job.
Now, four years later, Laurie was no longer at the garden center, Barrett was no longer in the apartment building, and I didn't see much of that group of friends anymore. Yet there I still was, plugging away.
My brother Noam lived across the state, near Mom. Our sister lived nearby too, but we didn't hear from her much these days except for special occasions. Noam, though, would call me up once or twice a week to catch up. Usually I didn't have much to report.
“Mom wants to know if you've met any girls lately,” he told me Sunday night. Well, that was a beautiful way of putting it. I was puttering in the kitchen, trying to recreate my success from the week before, but with mandarin oranges and maraschino cherries instead of pineapple.
“Kind of?” I answered.
“Kind of? Kind of like, you've kind of met someone, or kind of like, you're only kind of into her?”
I could have weaseled out, but that wasn't how mom raised me. “Kind of like, kind of a girl.”
“Uh...” My brother's voice was nervously confused. “D—you mean like—an older woman?”
I actually had the idea Peach and I were about the same age. “Not what I meant, no.” I wanted to see how long it would take him to guess.
“You're being tricky. Uh—wait. A pony? You met a pony girl?!”
I smiled—didn't take him long at all. “That's right.”
He laughed uneasily. “Um... so... are you into her?”
I wasn't sure quite what to say, so I stopped being coy and laid it on the line. “I'm not attracted to her, if that's what you mean. Not physically. But I can't stop thinking about her.”
There's a pause. “Is that what you want me to tell Mom?” asked my brother.
My turn to laugh nervously. “Not in the slightest,” I replied.
He laughed with me. “Yeah—I didn't think so. So... so why can't you stop thinking about her?”
“I don't know. She's the first pony I've ever met—I guess that's why. She's fascinating!”
“Is it because she's different?”
I didn't feel like I liked his tone, but I wasn't sure. “Come on, Noam. Don't you want to know what ponies think? Don't you want to know how their minds work?”
“Sounds kind of like a trip to the science museum. And maybe the zoo, too.”
“That's a crass way of putting it.”
“Sorry, Ron. So what—you fell in love with her mind?”
“I'm not in love.”
“Well, you said you can't stop thinking about her.”
“It's an exciting new friendship, that's all.”
My brother let out a sudden high-pitched cheer that made me jerk my phone away. “WOOO! An exciting new friendship! Way to go, Ron!” His laugh was knowing now, not nervous. “I'm sure glad you know the difference between an exciting new friendship with a girl and being in love, 'cause I sure wouldn't.”
Did I mention he's my older brother?
“No, you probably wouldn't,” I retorted. His comment had struck home—he'd wanted me to feel doubt, and I did.
“Well, you have fun with your mare friend. I'll tell Mom you're still looking.”
Huh. Was I still looking? “Thanks. Maybe I'll bring her over sometime.”
“Yeah, that'd be a hoot.”
“...Later, Noam.”
“Catch you later, Ron.”
Well, that had been embarrassing. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Peach at all. But I couldn't stand lying to people I cared about.
\~/ \~/ \~/ \~/
Peach Spark didn't have a mobile phone, or an internet connection. She had a land line—I'd seen a phone in her apartment—but in our three times together I'd never asked for her number. In a way, it was better to have to drop a note in her mailbox in order to get in touch with her. She was still exotic, still exciting. You don't just call a unicorn up on the phone. You have to summon her with paper and ink. I figured a little sticker of Fluttershy smiling at some butterflies couldn't hurt either.
“Missed you last Monday,” my note read. “Sorry—I had to work all weekend. Want to get together sometime?” I signed it “Counselor Pepper”. Really, I was afraid things had gone wrong between us after last time. When I'd left her apartment, she'd been pretty upset about her place in the world. I'd done my best to console her, and when I'd gotten home, I consoled myself that none of it was my fault. But that didn't mean she'd want to see me again.
I got a reply in my box two days later. Her handwriting—no, hornwriting—was smooth and a little loopy. “Want to take me out? I'm not too brave on my own out there. I heard about a place in Lower Manhattan that likes serving ponies. Let me know when you're up for it. —Sparky”
Well, that was exciting. Brave or not, if she was calling herself Sparky, things must be looking up for her.
As for this place that 'likes serving ponies'? I agreed to take her not knowing whether it was a restaurant or a nightclub or what, but it turned out to be a coffee shop. I showed up on Saturday at noon, prepared for the trip with an umbrella against the drizzly day. Peach Spark greeted me with a smile.
I couldn't leave well enough alone. “What happened to all the angst? What happened to being just a wish for other people?”
She peered at me with amusement, pulling on a yellow raincoat. “Are you ribbing me?”
“Maybe a little. But I'm just wondering...”
“Are you ribbing me about being a fictional character? Really?”
I flushed. “But you're not a fictional character.”
“Only because I wasn't important enough to rate being on the show. But I belong to a fictional species, don't I? From a fictional world. Are you really going to make fun of me for that?”
“I would never!”
“Really?” She looked up at me with shining blue-green eyes, and did I mention she was wearing a yellow raincoat? “Not even a little?”
I was too flustered to be witty. “Do you want me to?” I mumbled.
“Believe it or not, it might make it easier,” she answered.
I'd moved up from flustered to delightfully flabbergasted. “I wouldn't even know where to start.”
“Don't worry!” she reassured me. “I'm sure something'll come to you.”
She twirled her tail in the rain, once we got outside. I kept watching it as we walked. She didn't seem to have a reason for it, other than it being fun. I didn't have the guts to ask about it, but I wondered whether I'd be twirling my tail too, if I had one.
I'm lucky to afford my own apartment in the city with my job—a car is right out. And as far as I know, they aren't even making cars for ponies yet. So that meant a trip by train and by subway to reach the Lower East Side. Peach was getting used to buses and trains—at least they had the latter in Equestria—but the subway still unnerved her.
The train into New York was relatively empty, with plenty of room for Peach to lie across two seats, as was her preference. She'd gotten looks, but just curious ones, as far as I could tell, not angry ones. We had a nice conversation about local landmarks—what she'd seen and done so far, what she was planning on checking out. She hadn't been to Manhattan yet, and in truth it had been a while for me, too. This, I told her, was easily the farthest I'd ever gone for a coffee shop. Then again, I'm not a huge coffee drinker, and I tend to brew my own when I want it. Peach, for her part, had never even had a cup of coffee.
“Never? Really?”
Peach shrugged. “It's a Cameluvian drink.”
I'd heard the name Camelu once or twice since the whole mess began. “But Camelu's not on the show, is it?”
“Exactly. Never even mentioned, except in a fan-made video. And coffee doesn't show up anywhere.”
“So it's lucky you even have coffee at all.”
“Lucky! Well, that's one way of looking at it!” Again her tail twirled as we boarded our subway car. I winced as I imagined it getting caught in the automatic doors. I made sure we walked far enough in there was no chance of that.
We weren't so lucky with the subway—it was pretty full, and we had to stand. Our conversation would have to wait until we reached our station. When the train started off, Peach stumbled forward, then back. Worrying she was going to bump someone, I grabbed her by the... yeah, by the knee, I think. I hope. Part of her back leg. She thanked me. I shifted my position so I could hold her lightly against me with my hand on her back, and that seemed to work. It was embarrassing, but I can't say I wasn't glad for the touch.
“Can't you hold one of these handles with your magic?” I whispered.
“What good would that do? It wouldn't keep me from stumbling.”
“But...” That seemed wrong. “If you can pull the handle toward you, then isn't that the same as pulling yourself toward it?”
She looked quizzically at me. “Since when is that the same?”
I shrugged. “Never mind. Guess the laws of physics don't apply.”
Weirdly—weirdly, it was that, and not me grabbing her back leg, that made her blush.
It's hard to tell if people are watching you in a crowded subway car, since no one makes eye contact anyway. But there was a little girl, maybe five years old, with her mother a few rows away. We must have heard her say “Mom, that's a pony!” at least three times.
“Yes it is, darling. Now hush!” said her mother.
“Can I pet the pony?”
“No—stay here with me.”
“Please??”
“No! Stay here.”
That left us in awkward silence. I crouched and whispered into Peach's ear: “Can I pet the pony?”
She sighed and gave me a look.
“Some other time, then,” I said.
By the time we left the subway, the rain had stopped, so I offered to carry Peach's raincoat. “So. Coffee,” I prompted.
“Coffee,” she said, looking around and spying a sign for Madison Street. We took a right.
“Lucky's one way to look at it?”
“Oh. Right. Look—coffee isn't for kids, is it?”
“No... it's kind of an adult beverage.”
She looked quizzically at me as we walked. “Kind of.”
“Yeah... I mean, it's not as dangerous as booze, but you still want to watch out. It can make you jittery.”
“So it's more like an adolescent beverage.”
I stifled a giggle, then thought better of it and giggled. “Sure, I guess.”
She stopped walking. “That's what I'm getting at! It's in between! I think coffee's something just naughty enough that the writers didn't want to actually put it in the show, but innocent enough that they imagined us having it. And that's why we do have coffee, but it's obscure and exotic.”
I considered this. “You know, the writers have done dozens of interviews... not to mention convention panels. I think they've even testified for scientists.”
“Well, do the scientists have all this straight yet?”
I smiled glumly. “You know the answer to that.”
“Then I can speculate. And if M. A. Larson were here right now, I'd do my best to plumb him.”
I grinned. “I'd like to see that!”
She laughed back.
We reached the place, which was called Turtlewood Coffee, without further incident. From the outside, there was no sign of it catering to ponies except a sign in the corner of the window with the silhouette of a pony, two legs raised, and the words “PONY HOTSPOT”.
“It's a hotspot,” Peach observed.
“Let me know if it gets too hot for you,” I replied.
It was nicely furnished—nice fake leather chairs and sofas, earthy wood walls and counter with green accents. And... yes. Somehow, I could smell them. I hadn't realized until that moment that Peach Spark had a smell, but she did, and this was more of it. It wasn't like the smell of horses at all.
She was beaming. “Someone's here,” she uttered.
“Someone? Other ponies, you mean?” There were a handful of people at the tables and sofas, drinking or reading, but apparently they didn't count as someones.
“Yeah!” She had a wistful tone, as if this half a month on Earth had all been a confusing dream for her and she was just now waking up.
I nodded and peeked around the corner. Sure enough! Two stallions were there, one sea green and curvy with wings, one reddish purple with glasses. A mare, teal and shapely, sat with one leg swinging off the fake leather couch. They were talking quietly when I saw them, but all looked over when Peach Spark appeared.
“Hi!” said the green pegasus. He had crested lilac hair and was wearing a weathered denim vest.
“Hello there,” remarked the earth mare. Blue mane and tail, tall glass of something tan on the coffee table before her.
“Hi,” said Peach, trotting around me and taking them in. She seemed shy, but her shell was breaking. “I heard this was a hangout for Big Apple ponies.”
“You heard right,” said the purplish earth stallion. Red hair, broad figure, glass of something iced.
The teal mare nodded deeply. “Glad to have you!”
And the pegasus was on his feet. “So you thought you'd drop by? That's lovely! I'm Seaswell.” His cutie mark was a giant ocean wave, stylistically rimmed in fun yellows and oranges.
“Peach Spark.” She was grinning.
“I'm Kellydell,” said the teal mare. Her cutie mark was an obelisk with a gem in it. “Is, uh... this a friend of yours?” She gestured toward me.
Peach turned back and indicated me. “Yeah, this is Ronald Pfeffer. He's been great helping me settle in.”
They greeted me, and I said my pleased-to-meet-yous. I wasn't quite sure how to behave, though. Should I be treating them like new friends, or keeping out of the way to let the ponies do their thing? I didn't even know how to feel. If I was excited to meet Peach Spark, you might expect three times the excitement at meeting three new ponies, but somehow my feelings were mixed.
“So how long have you been in New York?” asked Seaswell.
“Actually, I'm in Jersey. Elizabeth. It's been a couple weeks.”
“Are you straight from Equestria?” asked Kellydell.
Peach nodded humbly.
“Wonderful! I can practice on you. I'm working for the Interworld Tourism Board.”
Peach seemed taken aback, as was I. “There is such a thing?” I asked.
“Well, it's new. There aren't any tours yet except for VIPs, but they're training folks on both sides. I used to give tours of Greenisle, and I was good enough doing that that they snapped me up!”
Seaswell leaned toward her, his legs like thick noodles. “And I tagged along!”
“As a good husband ought,” said Kellydell, craning her head toward his until they touched.
The purple-red stallion cleared his throat. “I'm seeing the sights, taking in the auras, and learning about our friends on the other side of the Gate,” he remarked with a nod my way.
Peach let out a happy sigh. “I'm just working for ThuneTec. It sounds like you're all here for more admirable reasons!”
Kellydell shrugged, and the purplish stallion snorted like only ponies can—which is to say, charmingly. “You've got it wrong—I'm the one doing the admiring.” There was something out there about his voice.
Peach lifted a hoof to her chest. “Admiring what?”
He gestured to the whole room, maybe the whole city. “Everything! The whole scene. It's fantabulous, in case you aren't aware.”
“New York, you mean?”
“Sure, but more. Human culture. The things they do, the notions they buy into. It's amazing stuff!”
Peach smiled and glanced back nervously at me. I ventured an answer: “I'm guess I'm glad you think so?”
The maroon stallion turned to face me with a bright grin. “Ronald, was it? It's a privilege to trot through your grand demesne.”
“Uh... I... don't know how to take that. Not very much of it's mine,” I replied sheepishly.
“It's in your veins, though! Brought up with a nice set of human values, weren't you?”
“Human values?” I laughed. “I'm not sure there's any such thing.”
He nodded. “Well, that sort of quandary's just what I'm working on. When I'm done, I'll tell you if there's any such thing!”
He made me both uncomfortable and easy in my skin at the same time, which you'd think was impossible. I realized he hadn't given his name. “And you are...?”
“George. It's a pleasure, Ronald.”
“...George?”
“George Harrison.”
I burst out snickering. “Not exactly a pony name, is it?”
He only grinned more. “More or less the point! I figured while on Earth, I'd try on an Earth name. Besides, I never cared for my given one, and I won't tell you what it was, so don't try me.”
I had to admit, he kind of had the haircut. Manecut. “You realize there was a famous human called George Harrison, right?”
“So I've heard.”
I half expected his cutie mark to be a guitar or a sitar or something, but it was actually a balloony, colorful question mark, more yellow than anything else, but with each segment in a different pattern of colors. He caught me looking. “I'm a bit of a knowledge seeker,” he explained.
“Groovy mark,” I acknowledged.
He grinned again. “I've heard that word once or twice. What would your mark be, if you had one?”
I was caught completely off guard by the question. Maybe that was his specialty—unnerving questions. “No idea. Maybe a flowerpot.”
“No,” chided Peach, teasing me. “You're more than your job.”
“Dunno, then!” But George was still watching me, waiting for an answer, and the others were watching, too. “Ahm—how about I leave you four alone for a while. So you can talk about... pony things.”
Kellydell frowned, but George nodded understandingly. “We'll talk about all the pony things under the sun.”
“Thanks, Pepper,” murmured Peach. “I'll come and find you when we're done.”
So that was that. I went back around the corner, ordered a latte and dropped Peach's raincoat over the back of a chair. Normally my modus operandi at coffee shops involves scoping the place for likely girls, but there was no need for that now. Aside from the fact I was here with a friend, and the fact that Manhattan girls actually intimidated me a bit, I had plenty of questions to ponder while I sipped my drink. For example, is there really such a thing as “human values”, and if so, what are they? Would ponies create the same lists of rights as our human rights organizations did? Maybe they already had. In the same vein, is there such a thing as pan-human culture? Which spots around the world would I pick if I had to lead a tour for ponies? And, not least of all, what would my cutie mark be? What would I even want as a cutie mark?
Definitely not a flowerpot. Yeah, that'd been my most embarrassing moment. I felt like the rest of the encounter had gone pretty well, though. Now and then I could hear Seaswell's high-pitched voice rising in excitement, but I couldn't hear the rest.
I brought my cup back up to the front. “Waiting on your filly friend?” asked the barista.
I wanted to say, She's not my fillyfriend!--but that sounded juvenile in my head and besides, I didn't know if she'd meant it as one word or two. So I just said, “Yeah. I don't think she's met any other ponies her whole time here.”
“Well, she's in the right place! We get about ten or fifteen semi-regulars, and there's a meet-up each week. It's kind of exciting.”
I glanced at the meet-up flier. “Yeah, I guess it would be. How'd this place get into...”
“Becoming popular for ponies? Owner's decision. It's not as hard to attract ponies as it is other demographics. You really just spread the word a little, put out a sign that says 'Pony Friends Welcome', you're set.” She smiled slyly. “They're suckers for friendship.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That's some of the cutest racism I've ever heard.”
She raised one back. “Yeah? Well, I try. Anything else for ya?”
I noticed a couple interesting items in the display case—a Fescue-Bluegrass Salad and a Daisy Marigold Wrap. Huh. But no, I was good. I nursed a cup of water until nature called, and then I discovered that this place didn't have restrooms for Men and Women—it had restrooms for Humans and Ponies. Just little single unit rooms, yet they still felt the need to specify which was which. I was... really tempted to peek into the Ponies room to see what kind of special equipment was in there, but I'm glad to say decency prevailed.
Eventually Peach ambled into view, followed by her new friends.
“Hey Pepper, how's it going?” she called.
I waved halfheartedly. “You ready to go?”
She grinned back, where the green couple (Kellydell just a little bluer and darker than Seaswell) was waiting. “Actually... I've had an offer.”
I felt my stomach drop and I didn't even know why. “Oh?”
“Seaswell here has a sky chariot,” she said bashfully. “For taking Kellydell places. He was thinking... he could give me a ride.”
I sat there breathing. “Oh, um... okay? So... you mean a ride home? So I'd go home alone?”
The peach-colored unicorn trotted up and studied me carefully. “You don't want me to do that, huh?”
“Well...” I felt torn. “It was our afternoon together, and...” And you just met this guy, I wanted to say. Who knows if he's a good enough flier not to drop you, let alone catch you if he does? But I couldn't say that with Seaswell right there, looking jaunty.
“I should go back with Ronald,” Peach told the others. “But I'd love to try your chariot sometime, Seaswell! We'll have to get together again.”
“We should do Staten Island sometime,” suggested Kellydell—to Peach, not me. “And you have to see Times Square, at the very least! Come with me and you can help me polish my shopping tour.”
“I'd love to,” she said. Then she nodded to George, who was bringing up the rear. “I'll call.”
“Nice meeting you,” Seaswell told me on the way out.
“Likewise,” I replied.
But it was George Harrison who offered to shake hoof-and-hand. “Counselor Pepper, I understand?”
I took his hoof and shook gently. “If you can take an Earth name, I'm willing to be saddled with a pony name.” Oops—would he be upset I'd used the word 'saddled'?
He grinned. “We can make it Sergeant Pepper if you like.”
Wow, I was just amassing titles. “That does sound better,” I agreed.
“Be seeing you,” he told me. “And I'll expect an answer on the cutie mark question when I do!”
I smiled nervously and gave a little wave.
The sun was out and working hard at drying up puddles when we left Turtlewood. Peach seemed really pleased. Relieved, even. For my part, I was happy for her yet confused in every other way.
Add this to my list of questions: if I'd happened to meet Kellydell and Seaswell in my apartment building, or George, would they now be as special to me as Peach Spark was? Or was there a reason I still felt she was my special friend aside from that happy accident? Would Peach just be one out of several, even dozens of pony friends, a few years down the line?
I sat across from her on the train, watching her peer out the window while lying on the seats. Somehow, I just couldn't imagine things going that way. But then again, a lot of unimaginable things were happening these days.