Topical Tardiness/All by Myself
They’re late. Again.
I really should be used to this by now, but every week it drags me down just a little bit more. It’s not like they’re trying to hurt my feelings, or anything, they just… don’t understand, I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just lying trying to convince myself that they really care about me; that I’m not just some dead-beat loser they have to hang out with because their marefriends tell them to.
The minutes tick by as noon comes and goes. Looks like they’re pulling a no-show. Oh well, this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Maybe Daisy’s free today? At least she genuinely likes to hang out with me… I think. I hope. I’m probably wrong, as usual. I’m wrong a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’ve probably been wrong about more things in general than Derpy has addresses. I guess I’ll have to ask her when I get there… Daisy, that is—but I just know that’ll go wrong too somehow. I’ll probably lose my courage at the last second, or she’ll lie to make me feel better, or she’ll tell me the truth and I won’t like it, or... something. I don’t know.
I should probably eat something first, though. The waitress here always has good timing. I don’t know how she does it, honestly. She’s so talented. I wish I were that talented… ah, here she is.
“Hey Goldengrape, how’re you doing today?” That’s Winona, the Hayburger Café’s founder, owner, and only server. Always so polite and kind, and almost never without a smile, she’s the one thing I can really look forward to on these visits. And yes, she does share her name with the Apple’s dog. It’s purely coincidence, though, and she (that is, Winona the Hayburger Café’s founder, owner, and only server) generally maintains a good attitude about it if you do.
I remember one time these two really rude stallions came barging in one day and started making all sorts of ridiculous demands. When they found out she couldn’t follow through with their ‘requests’, they started calling her all sorts of names. She just stood there with the practiced indifference of an experienced waitress, taking all their insults in stride… that is, until they started comparing her to her canine counterpart.
Sometimes, I swear I can still see the imprints those two dumbbells left in the drywall. Not that I feel sorry for them or anything, though. They deserved it. Jerks.
“Hey Win, not too good. My friends bailed on me again.” Her face fell, just like I knew it would. She’s usually quite a cheerful pony (wait, I think I said that already), even around me, but that just makes it all the more obvious when she’s faking. And of course she’s faking; my so-called ‘friends’ were supposed to meet me here at noon, just like we agreed to do every week, but it’s now almost twenty minutes past, and I’m still the only one here.
“Oh, Golden…” I could hear the pity in her voice. “I’m sorry about that. Tell you what; to make up for it, I’ll give you an order of horseshoe fries on the house. Sound good?” She was smiling again, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah,” I found myself saying, “that would be nice. Thanks!” Normally, I don’t like taking food without paying for it, and even more so from a pony like Winona, but who am I to deny a pony of her or his free will? If she wants to give me a free order of horseshoe fries, then by all means she is entitled to do so without repercussion!
Also, I’m flat broke at the moment. This will be the most I’ve eaten in a good five or so days. Honestly, I don’t entirely remember how long it’s been. It’s rather hard to keep track of time when you don’t have a clock, you see. Or a house. Or a job. Or… well, I think you get the idea.
Winona’s back, and she stays true to her word; a large basket of hot, fresh horseshoe fries is now sitting tantalizingly close to my muzzle, and after blowing on the top to cool it off, I take a cautious first bite. Delicious, as usual. I flash Win another of my rare smiles (I don’t know why, but I just seem to smile more when I’m around her) and tell her as much, and she nods approvingly. I also make sure to order a small drink, which I have just enough bits to cover. Long ago, I made a promise to my parents that I would never become a mooch or beggar, and I don’t plan on starting now.
The rest of my stay at the Hayburger Café is uneventful, save for a small commotion outside involving several small schoolfillies, but I don’t pay it much attention. My mind is elsewhere, probably thinking up more ways my upcoming conversation with Daisy could go wrong. I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that my basket and cup are both empty. The café is starting to fill up now with the after-lunch-crowd lunch crowd, and I don’t want to get in the way of Winona’s other customers, so I dump my trash into the bin and leave.
It’s always odd to me that no matter how sunny it is outside, or what season it happens to be, or even the actual temperature of the air around me, I feel colder somehow when I leave that café. I’m starting to think it’s a medical condition, actually. Maybe I’ll go to the hospital later? I don’t have anything else to do… well, except that talk with Daisy.
Well, that’s my evening set I guess. Daisy, hospital, ‘home’. It’s only one in the afternoon, right? That should be enough. I trot down the road, towards a familiar pink house…