//------------------------------// // A Woman's Touch // Story: Last // by Alan Smithee //------------------------------// Rarity wandered about Carousel Boutique, putting away mannequins and closing window blinds. The setting sun outside cast a warm orange glow. She was about to head up the stairs, when the bell over the door rang. She turned to the unruly customer, and said, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed. If you could come back tomorrow…” She stopped when she saw Simon’s face poking from behind the door. “Oh, it’s you! Come in, dear! Don’t be shy!.” The thin, pale human stepped into the foyer, closed the door firmly behind him, and looked about the room huntedly. “Would you like something, darling?” Simon looked down and pulled at his ragged clothes. The olive jacket and pants were nearly white from nearly daily washing. They were the only set of clothes he owned. “Oh” said Rarity. He reached into his jacket and produced a pouch. He opened it. It was full of bits. Rarity had both anticipated and feared this day. “Hmm…I think I have an idea...come with me” She turned and led Simon to a dressing-room. She drew the curtains. “Strip” she ordered. His eyes widened. Rarity looked at him unflinchingly. Simon slowly unzipped his jacket and tossed it lightly aside. At Rarity’s urging, he removed his T-shirt underneath, leaving only a grimy, sweat-stained tank top. Rarity gathered up his clothes with her magic. “That’s enough. Now the pants, please.” Simon untied his boots, took off his sweaty socks full of holes, and slipped his pants off one leg at a time. He stood before her, slouched and with folded arms. “Now stand up straight, and spread your arms out” Simon blushed and maintained his slouched, self-covering posture. Rarity softened her voice, “Darling, you don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m a professional” Simon started to straighten himself, then stopped as he felt the cool air on his chest. Rarity sighed and levitated his bag of bits and his clothes back over to him. “Either cooperate with me or leave” Simon complied, quivering. Rarity brightened, “Thank you, dear,” and levitated his clothes and pouch away. He felt the cold snake of measuring tape wrap around his waist, travel up to the barrel of his chest, then around his neck. He kept his eyes closed. Rarity opened the curtains of the changing-room and carried Simon’s clothes over to a bench where she laid them out and studied them. She brought her orange working glasses and placed them on her nose. “Hmmm...low-quality cotton. Terrible colour...How do these fit on you?” Rarity mumbled away to herself, leaving Simon sitting self-aware behind her. Simon hugged himself; he was cold. He tried to imagine he was someplace warm. Rarity approached him, carrying with her magic a dozen swatches of fabric. “Come out here into the light, Simon” He crept out of the dark changing room into the bright lights of the boutique. He noticed some of the windows had open blinds, and he felt ashamed. Rarity held the swatches close to his face, gauging how well the tones would match with his eyes and skin. Her eyes brightened when she announced, “I see...an elegant gold satin shirt with a marvelous pair of pants! You will not be disappointed!” Simon looked down at her. Her eyes shimmered as though a thousand ideas were sparking just behind them them. One idea came out: “It really is too bad we don’t have a...female companion for you. I can see a beautiful matching dress for this” A pang shot through Simon’s mind at these words. It reverberated through his body, and filled his stomach with butterflies.  Rarity turned away and went back to work at her table, measuring out lengths of fabric, hemming, sewing, and pinning. Simon’s head was swimming. His heart was pounding. It was as though a tempest was raging inside his body. He felt ill. His left hand found his right, and they clasped and held each other. He fidgeted his fingers uncomfortably. He looked at Rarity. Her comment about a female companion had brought this feeling on him. He was shaking. He closed his eyes, and tried to think of something else. He was in his house in New Jersey, in his university days. He was working on some math problem or another, when he heard the door creak open. In walked Mimi. She approached him, stood next to him, looked at him. Her intelligent brown eyes were half-obscured by the wooly hair on her head. Her tail wagged. “RRRR” she whispered to him. Simon put down his pencil, and turned to her. “GRRRR!” he said in return. The look Mimi gave him could easily have been one of incredulity. “GRAWAWAH!” she told him. “GRAWAWAH!” he mimicked in reply. “AWAWAWARRRAH!” she said, more agitated. “AWAWAAARGH!” “oooOOOOAWAAA-” she began, but was interrupted by a yawn. Simon laughed, and rose to take Mimi for a walk. Rarity was in front of him now. From behind him, a sheet of fabric draped over his shoulders. “Hmph” said Rarity, and walked off to resume her work. Simon shrugged as the cloak was lifted off his shoulders. He was taken to New York City. He was in the apartment where he’d grown up. He was in the comfortable living-room, sitting in a soft chair, facing his father, also sitting. His father had just turned seventy-six years old, and a recent widower in the past year. The lines of his face were carved in by age. He looked tired. He nursed a scotch in his right hand. An untouched glass sat by Simon’s chair. His father had short, white hair. “Son, you know I care about you, right?” Simon looked up to his father, unsure what to say in reply. “Dad?” “It’s just that...I don’t think you’re happy” Simon thought about this. After a long pause, he said, “I have a good job, a good house…” His father sighed. “For God’s sake, son, how can you be satisfied with your life if you don’t have someone to share it with?” He’d had this conversation before with his father. “I don’t know, dad. I just don’t think about that sort of thing, I guess” he lied. His father downed the rest of his scotch. He began to struggle out of his chair to get more, but Simon took his untouched glass and pressed it into his father’s hand. His father reclined in his seat and grunted contentedly. Simon thought some more, and added, “I guess I don’t want another...person in my life until my life is sorted out. I want to be able to provide for...her, and make her happy…” His father looked at him with wide eyes. Simon suddenly felt foolish. “...I don’t know” he lowered his head and grabbed his hair. “Simon, your life won’t be complete until you’ve found someone. Have you even tried?” Simon looked at his father sorrowfully. “I don’t want to talk about it” he mumbled. He was sitting in his kitchen in his University days. He had spent the last three days calculating a formidable integral, and was now trying to find a geometric interpretation of it. This was supposed to be the easy part, he thought woefully. He was hungry; he was tired; he hadn’t showered in three days; he just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. Max wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He was just about to leave when Simon swallowed his pride and asked, “Do you know what this integral means, geometrically?” Max turned around in his usual stiff manner, marched up to the table, and bent over at the waist to look at Simon’s work. His face was inches from Simon’s. He could smell Max’s breath. Max snapped himself to an upright posture and announced, “Yes, I do” and left the kitchen. Simon dropped his head onto his forearm on the table, and giggled uncontrollably. He was taken to a place and time he didn’t remember. He sat on a couch next to a woman. He did not see her, what she looked like didn’t matter: He knew he wanted her to be happy, and knew she wanted the same of him. Though he did not see it, he knew somewhere in the house was a child, with a full, wonderful life ahead of it. Simon marveled at the infinitude of possibilities for his child’s future, and he looked up to the woman and smiled. “I love you” he told her. She reached out and held his hand tightly. Rarity was on her haunches, in front of Simon, cradling his hand between her hooves. His head was still hanging, and his eyes were still closed. She’d been bringing over some rough approximations of jackets and pants to ensure they hung on him the way she expected when she found him sitting with his head down, heaving and whimpering. She cast aside the prototypes and temporarily forgot about them. “Simon? Are you all right?” The human raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were red and bloodshot. He looked down at his hand, sandwiched between her hooves. It tensed for only a moment, and then he lifted his other hand and stroked her foreleg. His lip was quivering. He tried to speak. Nothing came out. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself” He kept trying to speak, his vocalizations becoming weaker and shakier. In a sudden movement, he leaned forward and wrapped his arm around Rarity. She yelped and pulled away in surprise. Simon fell to the floor, and lay on his face, still whimpering. “What in the name of Eq-” she stopped. She looked down at the weeping human. “Oh…” she said to herself. She thought she understood. She lay down in front of him, and took his hand again. He looked up at her. His eyes were wet. “Simon, I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have said that...I wasn’t thinking” He rose to his knees, and tried to stand. “Come here” she told him, and wrapped her foreleg around his back. She pulled him towards herself. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face into her neck. He listened to her breathing. It soothed him. “Shh...It’s okay” He felt the softness of her skin, the fineness of her hair, the warmth of her body. Man or beast, she was alive, and she cared about him. Her hoof lightly rubbed the back of his neck. He was pacified. “Simon, if you ever feel lonely, or sad, just remember that I’m here. Remember Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash. Remember that we’re here, we’re your friends, and we all love you” She looked uncertain for a moment, then suddenly she shot her neck out and kissed him lightly on the bridge of his nose. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to fly away. He looked at Rarity. Her eyes were blue as the ocean, and seemed just as deep. Her hair was so flawlessly white, her mane so expertly styled. Comfort covered him like a blanket. Rarity returned his clothes to him. He put them on quickly. “I’ll get your clothes to you as quickly as I can” she said, returning to her professional demeanor. Simon went to the door. “Simon!” She called. “You’ll be alright” she told him. He smiled, and left.