The next day, around the afternoon, I heard a knock at my door. Not expecting anypony, I looked out the window to see who it could be. To my surprise, I saw Derpy standing at the door, with a smile, and holding a box in her mouth by its straps.
I opened the door, and she immediately gave me a muffled greeting before I could say a word.
“Hechhhhlllooo!”
“What?” I could vaguely hear what she was saying.
She put the box down.
“I said ‘hello!’”
“Oh…hi. How are you?”
“I’m fine! Thanks for asking! What about you?”
“Alright, I guess. What’s with the box?”
Derpy pushes the box over to me with her hoof.
“I kind of felt bad for leaving you like that, so I wanted to make it up to you. It’s a box of blueberry muffins, from Sugar Cube Corner! Freshly baked!”
That was the second time she wanted to make it up to me. I should’ve been the one making it up to her. The trouble was that I had no idea what I could do.
“Derpy, you really didn’t have to…”
“No, I wanted to.” she said happily. “It’s the least I can do.”
I looked at the box with a smirk. Nopony has ever given me anything in a long, long time, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the gesture.
“Well, thank you.” I said, bringing the box closer to me.I noticed the bag of mail strapped to her waist. Then, I remembered what she said to Mrs. Cake yesterday, and I became curious. “So, you’re a Mailmare, huh?” I asked, figuring it was a good a time as any to get to know her, before she took off again.
“Yep. I deliver the mail to the citizens of Ponyville every day. Except Sundays, of course; then I can rest!”
“It must be a hard job, delivering all the mail by yourself.”
As if I told a hilarious joke, Derpy busted out with an infectious laugh, catching me completely off guard.
“I’m not the only mailmare out there, silly!”
“Of course, how stupid of me.” I chuckled, almost meeting my face with my hoof for making such a dumb assumption. “Still, I can’t imagine it being very easy.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad. I get the heavy package every now and then, and I do get a little clumsy sometimes. One time, I accidentally dropped a shipment on somepony. My boss didn’t like that.”
“Oh my, was the pony okay?”
“She was fine. But I was still yelled at. I don’t like it when ponies are mad at me.”
She looked down at the ground again, remembering what I first said to her.
“Yeah, about that; I’m really sorry…”
“It’s fine. It’s just….my eyes….well, you know.”
“No, really.” I responded, assuring her, “I truly am sorry.”
That gentle smile of hers began to slowly creep back on to her face, until her watch suddenly beeped, breaking the moment. She looked at it and sighed, disappointed.
“I have to go. I’ll see you later, okay?” she unfurled her wings, and was getting ready for takeoff when…
“Wait!” I yelled. She stopped at the last possible second. “There wouldn’t happen to be any mail for me, would there?”
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so rude!” she said, “I don’t even know your name!”
I told her my name, and she dug through her mailbag for any letters. I don’t know why I had her do that, a part of me knew that there was nothing in there for me. Maybe I just wanted to see if anypony cared that I was out of town, or maybe…I just wanted her to stay longer.
“Nope, nothing. Sorry about that.” she apologized.
“It’s perfectly fine, really. Maybe next time, right?”
“That’s the spirit! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Tomor…”
Before I could fully respond, she took off to the skies in a flash.
And just like that, she was gone. I brought the box of muffins inside. Opening up the box, alongside the fresh smell of blueberry muffins, there was a note, made with a red crayon.
It read: “I’m sorry. Let’s be friends.”
The days went on like that. Every afternoon, I would get knock on my door, every afternoon, it would be Derpy. Sometimes with a box of muffins, sometimes just to talk. The more she came over, the more I enjoyed her visits.
It took me a while to gain some common sense, and finally ask Derpy to come inside the house. It was headed for the winter season, and I figured she’d like a cup of tea, or hot chocolate. I’d tell her about my time in Manehattan, my career, and the stories I would write in the Equestrian Sun Times. She’s never read them, but I kept all of the papers featuring my stories in the closet. On the days where she had extra time, I would read them to her, and she would look at me with the same kind of wonder a young filly would when you read them a bed time story.
It became apparent to me as I pulled out each paper, that my stories would get longer, and more elaborate. I feared that Derpy wouldn’t understand some of it, but every time I would glance at her face, her amazement never ceased.
One particular afternoon, after reading a pretty long story, I was fully prepared to see her get up and leave, like she always did. But, she didn’t…she stayed.
“Read me another one!” she told me, her hooves locked on to her cheeks, awaiting my next tale. Rummaging to the next paper, I realized that the story that came next was even longer than the last.
“I don’t know.” I said, unsure that she would want to hear it that day, “This one is pretty lengthy, and I don’t want you to get in trouble at work.”
Most of my short stories would always extend to either a half a page, to a full one. The one I pulled out happened to be a two page article, and The Equestrian Sun Times were notorious for having large pages of text. If it were any other paper, it would have been three to four pages easy.
She slipped her watch off, tossing it on the couch behind her, without any care in the world.
“Everypony can wait a couple extra minutes.”
One Sunday afternoon, on a day where she didn’t have a job to worry about, she asked me to come outside with her. I had nothing else to do; my story ideas were getting smaller by the days, so I accepted. She gave me a tour of Ponyville, along with a mandatory stop to Sugar Cube Corner, and told me all about the town, and the citizens. Though you wouldn’t know it by the way she looked, or the way she talked, she was very knowledgeable and observant of all the ponies around her. Her viewpoint of the world was naive and innocent, but I found that to be one of her many endearing qualities.
She told me stories of her life growing up with her disability, how she could never afford to see a doctor to find if her condition was ever treatable, and that she has learned to live with it over time.
She was so trusting of me, that she told me her real name, which was Ditzy Doo. She was made fun of when she was younger, saying that her eyes were derped, and the name “Derpy” stuck. Eventually, she came to accept it, and very few ponies around town are even aware of her real name anymore.
She also explained the origin of her cutie mark, which she made me swear not to tell anypony about. A shame too, it’s a pretty funny story.
The week after, we took another stroll, and I learned that Derpy had a family. Visiting the Ponyville Elementary School, she introduced me to her sister, Dinky Doo. Even though she was a unicorn, the resemblance was easy to spot, but her eyes were as straight as a ruler. Derpy told me how they lost their parents in a tragic accident, when Dinky was just a foal. Due to her condition, she was considered unfit to become Dinky’s guardian, despite being siblings. The story she told was sad, and even brought a tear to my eye. Derpy never found out, though, I managed to hide it from her rather successfully.
Dinky was sweet and caring, a perfect sister if I ever saw one. She wasn’t mean, or rude, or made fun of Derpy, she looked upon her sister with love and affection. Watching them interact, laugh, and play, it was clear to me how much they’ve missed each other in their times apart.
That day, I saw Derpy in her purest form. While she may have been almost as old as me, she was just a foal at heart. In some ways, in many ways, I wished that she would never have to grow up, she was wonderful, just the way that she was.
I was surprised how much I knew about her during my stay. We had become exceptionally close, and always have made a note to spend time with each other, not every day, but so often, you couldn’t see one without the other. I adored her company, and she adored mine. We couldn’t have been more different when we first met, but now we were the best of friends.
Because of all the time I spent with her, my writing sessions started to become less and less frequent. But, I didn’t care; it was nice to have a friend to talk to.