“So it’s true that you’ve settled on a date?” Script’s dad asked before he sipped some soda from across the counter.
“Yeah,” the writer opened the old white oven and peaked in on the pizza inside. “Page and I were thinking December, about a week or so before Christmas.”
“Of course,” his fiancé took out some Parmesan and a few green bell peppers from the fridge. “We wanted to make it small for the wedding itself, but we’re planning on going somewhere big after the party.”
“Oh, and where are you two thinking of going?” Harmonic inquired as his eyes looked around the interior of his son’s small, modest, but a little too plain home. Nearly everything about this place was standard at best from the microwave, stove-top oven, fridge, and even the wooden cabinets were a few decades old. The linoleum cream floor was bland; the ceiling light had the same pale neon light fixtures that he usually sees at the school. If it wasn’t for a handful of his husband’s oil and acrylic paintings, he would sum up the whole house as dull.
Script and Page looked over to each other with a knowing smile, “We’re thinking of going to New York,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to see Manhattan for myself since I’ve never been there.”
“And I haven’t been there since I was a kid when we went there for a vacation once,” his son said with nostalgic, “You remember that, right dad?”
His father nodded, “I do. Never a gray moment if you knew where to look. Besides, I’ve played in a few concert halls myself a few times.”
“Like Carnegie Hall?” the soon to be teacher asked and her future father-in-law confirmed it.
“Not bad acoustics if I do say myself. Say Script, how’s that pizza coming along?”
“It’s not ready, I’ll let it brown up a bit more before we eat.”
“Fair enough,” Harmonic took another sip from his soda. “So what about the wedding itself, any plans yet?”
“To be honest dad, we’ve been debating on what exactly to do,” his son confessed, “Page said we should go down to the courthouse and we just pay up, sign our license and we’re done. I, however, was thinking about the whole ceremony route with the priest, the saying vows and such.”
“But it’s so expensive,” his fiancé pointed out, “even if we did that, we would probably be bankrupted by the time we get to New York. We don’t have that kind of money for that even if we wanted it.”
“Have either of you considered a third option,” Harmonic spoke up.
“What's the third option?” the couple asked in unison.
Script’s dad shrugged, “Well, I have retired after all, and I still have a good deal of money in the bank-”
“Dad,” his son cut him off, “We’ve been over this, and you don’t have to spend on me with the money that you’ve earned.”
“But this is different.”
“I’ve already said that we wanted to prove that we can live on our own financially.”
“Now hold on, hear me out, I’m not talking about that,” Harmonic clarified, “I was rather thinking about lending a helping hand to your guy's wedding.”
This got their attention, so Page asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, that if both of you want, I can withdraw a certain amount to give you two the wedding of your dreams. You said that you’re planning it in December so why not I pitch in to make it Christmas themed with the tree and the presents or whatever. Plus, I don’t really mind since I’m well off as it is. Heck, consider this as a wedding gift in and of itself! So whatever it takes to see you two happy, I would do so gladly. All you need to do is ask.”
Both Script and Page turned to each other, “What do you think hon?” the writer asked.
His future wife looked uncertain, “But, don’t we have to pay you back?”
The Violinist shook his head, “There’s no need to worry about me. I’m offering my hand to help you, and I don’t ever expect something in return. What’s important is finding out what you guys want for your wedding, and make it into a reality. So what do ya say?”
Before either one could respond, the timer went off, signaling that the homemade pizza is ready. Once the Italian pie was out of the oven an onto a metal pan where it cooked, Script was the first to say, “Are you sure about this dad?”
He nodded.
“Wow,” Page said, “I mean, really. Here I thought that our wedding is going to be on a budget but now… this really opens up a lot of doors for us. It’s kinda overwhelming the more I think of it that… I’m not sure what to do.”
“That’s dad for ya,” Script said, opening a drawer to grab the pizza cutter. “With him, it’s like wining the golden ticket every day.”
“So… Do you guys want my help or not?” his dad asked.
“Well… maybe on a few things here and there.”
Harmonic chuckled, “Oh yes, you’ll only need just a few things from a wedding after all.”
“I think that’s enough about talking about us,” Page piped up, getting out some plates. “What about you, anything new with you lately?”
“A few things,” he said as his son started to cut the slices, “such as my students have improved their musical skills. We’re having recitals at my house a week before school kicks in. Oh! And there is a pair of my students that have been going out for the past month or so.”
“Really?” Script questioned, “How’d you know?”
“Funny story, one of my students (I will not say who) had a crush on another student but was scared of telling. However, during one session, where this student was learning to play a song on the violin, I had them visualize about their special someone and play for them as if they’re there. What I didn’t know was that very student who had a crush on, was there and overheard everything. So after confronting him, they end up agreeing to start dating and have been doing so ever since.”
“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Page cooed.
“Of course, both of them have come to me for advice every now and then,” Harmonic added. “Besides, they seem to be getting along just fine.”
“Here dad,” Script offered his father a slice of pizza, in which he presented him his plate.
_*_
“Alright, how ‘bout this?” Braeburn asked, “Would ya rather have Spitfire have ya do a thousand push-ups, or go through your worst date all over again?”
Soarin thought for a moment as he licked his ice cream. Sitting on a bench facing the town’s river, the two friends had not only increased their, “hangouts” a bit more, but they have grown closer as well. To the athlete, being on these dates with his best friend somewhat made him wish that he had tried this sooner. As to the farmer, no matter what they did, like having Soarin lend a helpful hand on the farm, watch a movie, play video games, or simply eating ice cream as the sun was setting, it just was another day in heaven.
“That’s a tough one,” his blue friend said aloud. “You’re asking if I want to be completely tired out by Ms. Ex-Drill Sargent or go on my first date with Sunset…” he hummed for a moment, “I’d probably go with the push-ups.”
“And why’s that?” the cowboy smirked.
“No reason,” Soarin shrugged. “One of them is a control freak that has experience in getting anybody to do what she wants, that would gladly point out your faults in why you’re not worth the dirt on her shoes, and the other is Spitfire.”
Braeburn guffawed yet covered his mouth at the shock at what he just heard, “That’s terrible!”
“Hey, you said ‘go through my worst date all over again.’ So who really wants to go out with a person like that?”
“Ah thought that Sunset gal had changed, didn’t she?”
He nodded, taking another lick at his cone, “Sure, she’s a whole lot better now, but I had gone out with her before she turned into that demon thing at the Fall Formal. As I recalled, she dumped me the next day for that Brad guy.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” the yellow Apple went on taking a few more bites out his ice cream bar. “Okay, now yer turn.”
Soarin leaned back in thought, “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Go on.”
“I know that you’re still in the closet here, so… does anyone in your family know what you’re into?”
Braeburn frowned, “No, not really. ‘xcept fer mah cousins AJ and Applebloom, nobody knows.”
“So, why them?”
“Fer one, Applebloom thinks that she might be into one of her best friends, a girl mind ya. And Applejack is probably the most open-minded of the Apples that Ah know. As to everyone else…” he trailed off, taking another small bite of his icy treat. “Ah’ve really have no idea, and that’s what scares me. We’re all for traditions that work, or rather, that serve somethin’ practical. It’s not that we don’t embrace anythin’ new, but only if it makes a lick of sense ta us. Plus, the whole topic of anythin’ gay is never mentioned at all in conversation. So really, Ah have no idea how they’ll react if they’d knew. Kinda makes me feel like Ah'm playin' Russian roulette whenever Ah approach anybody with this secret.”
Soarin Cloudline placed a hand over his shoulder, “C’mon man, it can’t be all that bad?”
“Ah’m not sayin’ it’s bad, it’s just that Ah don’t know,” the farmer clarified, “Besides, Ah can’t really ask anyone, even mah parents about it, it’ll raise too many questions and Ah know it.”
“But dude, don’t ya think you might be worrying about this a little too much?”
“Mah dad has a-sayin', ‘Never gamble if you don’t know what the odds are.’ Especially fer me when the risks outweigh the benefits. Ah mean, think about it, what would happen if Ah did come out to mah folks, and they don’t wanna have anythin’ ta do with me anymore?”
Soarin raised an eyebrow, “Do you really think they’ll do that?”
Braeburn deadpanned, “You'll haven’t read the news lately, have ya? Ah have read up on stories of folks that had their own family kicked them out of their homes or left them on the streets because they don’t wanna have anythin’ ta do with their kids who happen ta be gay. Not jus’ that, but beatings, rapes, and even send to camps ta change them by methods that don’t even work. And these are people like me, with families similar ta mine. Can ya see why Ah wouldn’t be so willin’ ta come out to them?”
The blue athlete let his words sink in, “Man that really sucks when you put it like that.”
The cowboy snorted, “That’s nothin’ compared ta school, especially from the students there.”
“How’s it worst?”
“Have ya ever noticed that over there that people like… (let me jus’ pick someone at random,) Lyra and Bon Bon are together that nobody makes any complaint about it? Those fellas especially don’t mind it at all because they think it’s hot, you know what Ah mean?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying. I mean, who doesn’t like lesbians?”
“But that’s mah point,” Braeburn went on, “whereas, for people like me who are gay, the students there think it’s… somehow a bad thing? Ah guess you’ve heard it in locker rooms too that you’ll hear things like, ‘That’s so gay,’ or ‘That shirt makes ya look, gay dude,’ or ‘No, yer gay!’ things like that, as if it’s disgusting but have no reason fer why.”
Although Soarin didn’t want to admit it out loud, it was common to hear coming from his own teammates.
“Ah mean, Ah can’t be the only one that looks at this and doesn’t think that it’s a bit… hypocritical? That apparently it’s okay if you’re gay as long as if you’re a girl?”
The athlete opened his mouth, trying to find something to say. But all he could come up with is, “…. Okay, you’ve got a point.”
Braeburn sighed, “Ah know, it just really… unfair.”
“Hey, just because it’s all unfair, doesn’t mean that it has to be.”
“But how? How do ya make it fair when everythin’ isn’t?”
Soarin thought for a moment, listening to the chirping songs of birds and the passing of cars before he responded with, “I’ve heard somewhere, I don’t know who said it that, ‘The only way for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’” He used his free hand to mess up further of Braeburn’s hair, “And I promise you this buddy, as long as I’m around, I’ll always be there to make the world fair for the both of us.”
Braeburn smiled, “That’s really sweet of ya.”
“What can I say,” he shrugged, “I try, don’t I?”
The farmer chuckled, “Do me a favor and don’t ever change.”
“I make no promises,” Soarin gave a sly grin.
His yellow friend leaned into him, “Anyways, thanks fer takin’ me out again.”
“No problem dude. I actually do like having ya around. Speaking of which, I think it’s your turn to take me out.”
“Ah know,” Braeburn nodded as he finished off his ice cream bar. “What do ya think you wanna do? Ah’m kinda runnin’ out of ideas here.”
“When’s the last time we went swimming?”
“Too long Ah guess… maybe since senior year of Jr. High maybe? Ah don’t know, but Ah suppose swimming sounds good ta me.”
_*_
In a way, Sweetie Drops actually liked her little part-time job. What’s there not to love? She assists making candy; learn recipes to these delights by heart, and sets up the local candy shop that even Willy Wonka would approve. Sure, the little store isn’t as big or as famous as Sugar Cube Corner, but at least it’s a lay back work environment that she could easily work in.
Although, it’s not that she doesn’t have any complaints about it herself. There were times where nosy kids would come in, demanding their parents to buy everything in sight while throwing a fit at it. Or the customers that take a years’ worth to decide what they want to buy. But she only has to deal with the customers if she was called to look after the cash register.
“Hey, Bon’s,” the voice of her boss stick her head in the back room where they made all the candy. “We need ya at the register.”
She grunted silently as she put away the liquorish, “Coming Ms. Toffee,” she called back as she made her way towards the front of the store. There were a few people who were wondering around in the tinny store that was looking through the glass jars, the trays of truffles and bars, and the rows of lollipops. Yet, there was still a line to the cash register which she went up to it.
“Welcome to the Candy Corn, what can I help you with?” she asked every customer in line as she helped buy their sweets by weighing them, looking through the chart by the pound, ringing up the total and repeat.
The last one from the end of the line came up, by now, the store has fewer people around. Yet, this particular customer, Bon Bon could have sworn that she’d saw him before somewhere.
“Hi there,” he said. “Ah was hopin’ if you could help me.” The customer in question was around the same age as she was, yellow with orange blond hair. In one hand was a Stetson while the other was his wallet.
“Sure thing, what ‘ja need?”
“W-Well,” he stuttered, “could Y'all help me chosen’ a box of chocolates since Ah’ve never done anythin’ like this befor’.”
“I’m guessing that you want to customize it?” Sweetie Drops asked and he nodded. She pointed at the glass counter that held the lines of fudge, chocolates and other treats. “Just choose some of these and I’ll put them in a box. Speaking of which, what’s it for if I may ask?”
“It’s uh…” he looked behind him, “A surprise fer a date that’s comin’ up.”
“Awe, that’s sweet. So do ya want me to get out the heart-shaped boxes or the regular ones?”
Her customer thought for a moment before deciding, “Go with the regular, a medium one if ya have any.”
“Got it,” Bon Bon reached underneath the counter and took out the box, “This one holds twenty-two pieces. Which, by the way, should be about twenty-five give or take, so with that in mind, let’s get down to choosing, shall we?”
While her customer looked around and narrow down his choices, Sweetie Drops asked, “You go to Canterlot High, don’t ya?”
“Huh?” he looked up. “Uh yeah, why’d you ask?”
“You just looked familiar to me, what’s your name?”
“Name’s Braeburn.”
‘Why does that ring a bell?’ she thought while grabbing the tinny tongs. “Again, I think I might have seen you somewhere from before. Do you know me?”
The cowboy tilted his head, “Come ta think of it, yer face is familiar ta me. Were y’all in Mr. H’s Orchestra class?”
She snapped her fingers, “Oh! No wonder why I’ve seen you somewhere before! You play the violin, don’t ya?”
He nodded, “Well yeah, Ah do.”
“So anyway, let’s get back to business. So, what it’ll be?”
“Oh…” Braeburn looked around the glass case once more. “Let’s start with those, those milk chocolate pretzels with the white chocolate drizzle. Then a couple of those apple bon bons, those caramels there… then uh…”
While her customer trailed off, she opened the plastic panels to pick up the listed items into the box. But when he stopped, Sweetie Drops looked up and asked, “Anything else.”
“Sorry, Ah’m jus’ thinkin’.”
“So who is it?”
“Pardon?”
“Your date, must be pretty special if you’re getting all of this, huh?”
Braeburn’s cheeks took on a light pinkish tint in color. “Well… somethin’ like that.”
“Anybody from school?”
He nodded.
“Maybe I can help?” the cowboy looked up, asking what she was talking about. “I tend to socialize with those from school, you know, trying to make friends and all. Perhaps, if I know who your girlfriend is, maybe I can narrow down and pick out what she’ll like.”
Braeburn froze as if he was caught doing something taboo. “Uh… T-That’s kind of ya and a-all. But Ah think Ah can jus’ do it on mah own.”
“Oh come on, do tell,” She pleaded, “This will go a whole lot faster if let me know who.”
“Look, the thing is… Ah, can’t.”
Bon Bon was taken aback at this, “You can’t?”
“W-We’ve just gone out fer a month or so,” Braeburn admitted, “It ain’t anythin’ too serious.”
“I wasn’t asking that, I was asking why you can’t tell me who you’re dating.”
“Ma’am Ah can’t tell ya since he doesn’t-”
“He?”
The cowboy’s eyes opened wide at the mistake he just made. “U-Uh…” he looked around the shop to make sure that nobody else was listening before returning his attention to the candy maker.
“Well, that’s a first,” she grinned, “again, is it anybody I know?” Braeburn stared back at her, “What?”
“Yer… Yer not upset? At all?”
“Why would I? It’s not weird to get some candy for your sweetheart.”
“That ain’t what Ah meant,” he shook his head, “Ah mean that you’re fine that Ah has…”
“A boyfriend?” Bon Bon completed his sentence. “Nah, not really, I have a fantastic girlfriend myself.”
“Oh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, completely embarrassed.
“You’re fine,” she waved it off, “So come on, who is it?”
The farmer looked around, “Promise you won’t tell anyone else?”
“You want me to do the Pinkie Promise while I’m at it?”
He thought for a moment, “Why yes, that would help.”
She rolled her eyes, “Crossed my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. Okay, so who is it?”
Braeburn leaned over the counter and waved his hand for her to lean over to whisper his name.
“Oh really! I never expected h-”
“Yes yes yes,” he said quickly, “So can ya help or not?”
She put a finger underneath her chin, “I think I have a general idea. I’ve met him a few times and asked him what kind of candy he likes. So yeah, give me a sec.” Up and down the glass counter she went, picking out chocolates and truffles, dipped treats and sugary delights until the box was full.
After weighing it, Sweetie Drops rang up the total cost and Braeburn paid for it. “Come back again soon,” she said, “If ya needed anything else for your sweet tooth or your sweetheart,” she winked.
He blushed, rushed out with an awkward, “Thank ya,” and quickly left while ringing the bell overhead.
_*_
On the day of the recital, chairs have been set up in the living room where Harmonic’s students and parents were crammed in. Space where the performance was being held, in front of the fireplace, was already occupied with the piano, a harp, and the drum set that was moved from the garage. At the opposite end of the room in the hallway, black cases of other student’s instruments were lined up along the walls where strings, brass, and winds were already have been taken out.
The music teacher himself stood at the center of this controlled chaos while the parents and their kids talked among themselves and each other. Some of them held onto copies of the order in which the students were supposed to perform. He could see on the students’ faces and the way they held their instruments that some of them were quite nervous while others were trying to remember what notes needed playing.
Some of them had come up to him to make sure that their instruments were tuned from the few that had strings. While he did this, he saw from the window his son and his fiancé walking across the lawn and through the front door. He silently greeted them with a nod and a wave as they took their spot leaning against the wall.
A few minutes to go, there were a few missing students that had arrived, if not out of breath, “Am I late?”
“No Ms.Drops,” her teacher said, “You’re still in time. Now take your seat.”
As she made her way to a saved seat where Lyra had arrived earlier, she noticed that she wasn’t the only familiar face in the crowd. Sitting on the armrest of the couch was the very customer that had come to her workplace several days ago. And not too far was Soarin Cloudline that looked a bit anxious as he rotated a pair of drumsticks in his hands.
“Hey,” she called out, waving her hand at them. The two of them looked up in which she got to different responses. From Soarin, he gave a casual wave while Braeburn tensed up a bit before waving back.
Once the time had arrived, Harmonic spoke up. “Welcome everyone, students and parents alike, thank you all for coming. I must say that overall, I’m pleased that those who have been working with me have done a great job in improving their skills this summer.
“So to begin, how about we start off with a little piano music from Sweetie Drops with her piano piece.”
The Candy Maker got up from her seat and walked around the garden of chairs to get to the piano bench.
“Introduce yourself first,” her teacher reminded her.
“Right,” she turned to her audience, “My name is Sweetie Drops, and I’m going to be playing for you Gymnopedies number one through three by Erik Satie.” She then proceeded to sit down at the open keyboard, adjusting her seat a little and placing a foot at one of the foot pedals.
Taking in a deep breath, she pressed the first few keys of a slow movement. The left hand moved at a Larghetto pace of a lone dance. It was setting an atmosphere of a dreamlike ballroom when the right hand descends into the fantasy of the piano. In slow motion, her hands waltzed in calming, tranquil sounds of deep meditation and airy thoughts.
Around the room where a very few parents were trying to shush their younger children, the room was quiet, almost as if they were in deep thought along with Bon Bon. The sound was undoubtedly relaxing with its soft bell-like chimes from a Tibetan monastery. However, the students who up next were still struggling to take comfort in this music when they weren’t entirely sure how it’ll turn out.
As for Lyra, she was not only confident in her performance but also glad that her girlfriend was doing so well with her piece. Even when she did miss a few notes, to her, it was perfect.
As time went on, with one student finishing and another beginning, over the course of an hour in that cramped room, Harmonic’s students had performed. Some of them were good, others sounded like they needed more time to practice, but no matter how each of them did, and they were great in their perseverance. Lyra played her moonlight, and Braeburn was passionate in his hidden love song.
But then came the last one to perform, Soarin got up to walk over to the drum set while Harmonic took out his violin.
“For an encore,” his teacher said, “and with a little help with the stereo behind me, the last piece will be a combination of old and modern sounds. This duet between me and Soarin is using the harmonic progressions of the Baroque period of Bach and Vivaldi, with the modern rhythms of rock and roll music.” He turned to his aqua student, “Mind introducing yourself and the piece.”
“Name’s Soarin Cloudline, and we’re playing Rock Toccata.”
Three taps of his drumsticks latter, his teacher raised his bow and two thunderous staccato notes came from the violin at the same moment as the guitar and bass guitar summoned the storm. Yet Soarin’s beat kept the time even when his teacher flung the small room into a storm of cross-string melodies. The violin combined the virtuosity of Vivaldi with the melodic counterpoint of Bach that made the wooden instrument into something electric.
Soarin, on the other hand, kept reality together with his beating on the drums and cymbals that its thunder countered his teacher’s wild yet elegant sound.
For some of the audience, who had listened to classical music, this was rather a huge surprise that for such a loud finale was completely unexpected. However, there were parents who not only didn’t mind but got into it, even the students pulled out their phones to record it.
“Look at him go!” someone commented while Harmonic’s fingers and bow were in a near blur as his left hand went up and down the fingerboard while his right moved as if possessed. Harmonic with his eyes closed did bob his head to the beat as he changed from one erratic key to the next.
Even Braeburn was mesmerized. He didn’t realize that something as simple as a wooded instrument with four strings could sound like that. ‘Jimmy Hendricks eat yer heart out,’ he thought.
By the time that the song had concluded, the applause came along with the cheers from the younger members of this tinny audience, “That’s all we have,” the music teacher said, “and once again, thank you very much.”
The reception died down when the students went to put their respective instruments back in their cases, the Violinist stood in place as he watches and heard from the parents their congregations and pride of their children that they slid out the front door.
He also saw Braeburn walk over to Soarin, “Man that was somethin’,” he said.
“Oh yeah, that was awesome, and you were good too,”
The cowboy rubbed his neck, “It was… okay.”
A snort was heard from the athlete, “No really bud, you were great. You should let me hear you play more often.”
“Hey there,” they turned to find Lyra and Bon Bon there, “Nice job, both of you,” the mint green student told them.
Braeburn nodded and said a simple, “Thank ya.”
“Since the four of you are here,” Harmonic piped up, getting their attention. “I was wondering since school is coming up, will I be expecting any of you for Orchestra this year?”
“Ya know,” Sweetie Drops said, “I think I would, that was surprisingly fun.”
“Not ta mention helpful,” the farmer added. “Heck, if those councilors would let me, Ah could give it another go.”
“Eh, why not?” Soarin shrugged.
“If Bonnie is gonna do it, then so will I,” Lyra finished.
“Very well,” their teacher nodded, “You still have about a week left of summer, so all I can say is thank you for having me tutoring you and have a good week.”
“Thanks, Mr. H,” they said as they began to take their leave.
Once the living room was cleared out, the only ones that remained were his son and future wife. “That was a pretty good dad,” Script told him.
His dad shrugged, “I’ve messed up on a few notes here and there.”
“I think it was great,” Page said. “Besides, I think it’s pretty good for you?”
“Huh?”
“What she means,” his son clarified, “Is that at least you’re getting out a little more and doing something productive.”
“I suppose so,” Harmonic went over to put his violin back in its case. “Thanks for coming anyway.”