//------------------------------// // 3 - Pre-Flight Inspections // Story: A Wish For Wings to Fly // by Revenant Wings //------------------------------// Caramel did not go out again for quite a while. He stayed away from the local stores except to get groceries and did not go out again with Big Macintosh and Baritone. Baritone tried sending him a letter to talk with him and apologizing for his own pushy behavior, but Caramel did not respond to him. Nearly a week after the reading at the Salt Lick Tavern, Caramel was working at Sweet Apple Acres. The harvest was still going on and the weather was clear and warm. Caramel enjoyed bucking the apples and eating lunch under the cool shade of the trees. Birds chirped, bees buzzed around in the trees, the grass was cool under his hooves, and the sun made his coat warm, making the whole day feel drowsy. Caramel had finished his lunch and was bucking again when Big Macintosh came up to him. “You want to go out with us again tomorrow?” Caramel ignored him and focused on the buck. He didn’t want to talk, and since Big Macintosh was a pony of few words, he figured he would drop the subject shortly. “You have nothin’ to feel embarrassed about,” Big Macintosh said. “Everyone liked it.” “I thought Baritone did pretty good,” Caramel replied without really replying as he went to the next tree. “His picking was smoother than the last time he played up there.” “But they liked you, too,” Big Macintosh commented, trying to re-rail the conversation as Caramel bucked. “They applauded you. Not bad for a poetry readin’.” “What about that filly comedian, though?” Caramel paused as he bucked the tree a second time. “Her delivery was impeccable and timing was fantastic.” “Caramel...” Big Macintosh’s voice was actually starting to sound irritated. Caramel walked over to the next tree a little quicker than usual, but Big Mac kept pace behind him. “I’m tryin’ to say you did good up there.” “I wish that tap-dancing colt stayed around,” Caramel said, talking a little louder and trying to drown out Big Macintosh as he readied himself for the first buck on the tree. “He was better than—” “Would you stop changin’ the conversation on me!?” Caramel lashed out. The tree shuddered, bark flew, and a deep indent was created. Three measly apples fell off the tree and landed in the bucket. Caramel looked with at Big Macintosh with a mixture of astonishment and fear at the growl that had suddenly erupted from the larger pony’s mouth. Big Macintosh surveyed the damage, sighed at his own mistake, and went over and gently tapped the tree. In one tap, all the apples fell off the tree and into the buckets around the bottom. He made sure nothing else was damaged and that Caramel’s hooves weren’t damaged from the imprecise strike before finally sighing again. “Why do you keep avoidin’ the compliments?” he asked, much calmer than before. “I didn’t do that good!” Caramel complained. “I was stuttering, spilling over my own words, my pace was off, and I’m sure I flubbed at least four lines if not five.” “No one expects you to do perfect the first time you’re up there,” Big Macintosh said gently; Caramel looked at the ground meekly and refused to look him in the eye. “But you did it and made it through. Baritone had a point: it gets easier. But you just focused on the negative and don’t focus on the fact that you did it. And if you go up there again, it will be easier. And you will do better and make less mistakes.” “But what if they’re worse mistakes than before?” “Those thoughts plague everyone who tries something new. But you learn from it. You go back and do it again and take note of what you could do better.” Caramel looked back up at Big Macintosh, but kept his nose down and put his ears flat against his head. Big Macintosh sat down underneath the damaged tree. He motioned for Caramel to come over and sit with him. Caramel did so, watching as the red pony motioned to the damage Caramel had done to the tree. “Do you remember what happened when you came and started workin’ for us five years ago?” Big Macintosh asked. “You’d buck a few times, and I’d say a good seventy percent of the time they’d turn out like this. Do you know what your average is now?” Caramel shook his head, wondering where Big Macintosh was going with this. “Just about once a week. Thinkin’ along the lines of thirty trees an hour and four hours buckin’ trees, five days a week? That means you do a dent like this once every six hundred trees. But that’s quite a lot less than when you started. Because we taught you, and you learned. You became better, and every time you bucked the trees, it became a little easier.” Caramel thought back. Yes, he had done rather poorly at start. But Big Macintosh and Applejack had helped him out, and while he wasn’t as good as Applejack or as strong as Big Macintosh, he was doing a lot better compared to how he started out. He looked from Big Macintosh, to the dent, then back to Big Macintosh. “If you want proof that you did good up there and it’s not just me sayin’ it as a friend,” Big Macintosh continued, “ask Thunderlane. You’ve met him... what, once, maybe twice before that evenin’? And yet he came up and said it was good? And a friend of his wanted to compliment you as well? Certainly the fact that you affected ponies like that even at one reading must mean somethin’ went right.” “Thunderlane’s just being polite because he found out I knew you,” Caramel said. “Not that he’s afraid of you; he respects you like I do.” “Then realize that I’m tryin’ to give you a compliment, and so was he,” Big Macintosh said. “And not only that, I think you started good but could do better. You have potential, Caramel, but you need to be willin’ to follow through.” Caramel’s ears straightened, but he did not look straight at Big Macintosh. “Just somethin’ to keep in mind.” Big Macintosh sat up. “Come on; we still have a few trees to do before the end of the day. We’ll do it together, alright?” Caramel nodded, got up, and followed Big Macintosh over to the next tree. * * * A few days later, Caramel finally got around to sweeping up the broken shards of glass from the middle of his room. He was surprised that he hadn’t stepped on one of them, as they’d been on his floor for a little over two weeks by now. He gently set a dust pan on the floor and used his mouth to hold a broom, gently sweeping and moving the dust pan with a hoof whenever he needed to readjust or a glass shard seemed rather resilient to leave the carpet. It was the first day off from work Caramel had in a while. Sweet Apple Acres was particularly busy around harvest season and Caramel was often called out for odd jobs around the farm, from filling the water silo to watering the grounds to managing for weeds to helping repair and graft broken branches. With the majority of the work finally finished and a break until the next weeding and watering, Caramel was given the day off, and was spending the day doing housework. At nine o’clock, Caramel had woken up and had his usual breakfast of toast and coffee. He finished his breakfast and washed the dishes while listening to the end of the Coffee Hour, which teased a new album coming out by Revenant Wings sometime in the next few months. He’d done a bit of dusting and sweeping in his main room while watching the news and had finally remembered to sweep up the mess in his room. He had other things he needed to do. He needed to pay some bills and balance his bank account, and he needed to see if Rarity couldn’t repair his saddlebags; one of the straps was frayed and looked like it might tear any moment. The last of the glass shards picked up, Caramel gently lifted the dust pan and carefully carried it to the kitchen and dumped it into the trash. He put the rest of the frame, which was irreversibly damaged, into the trash with the glass and went back to his room. The picture of him and Roseluck was still on the floor. On the surface, they looked happy. Roseluck had been, but there were signs of the nervousness that were already coming back; Caramel wasn’t smiling as wide as Roseluck was, and his eyes weren’t as bright. Caramel gingerly placed the picture next to the brown leather notebook of poetry on his desk before heading back to the kitchen. From a drawer in the kitchen, Caramel took out his bills and began sorting through them. He picked up a pencil and started looking over various receipts and bills for electricity, water, gas, and his rent – which wasn’t due for another week, but he liked to have it around when balancing to see how much was left when it was paid. Caramel went through his receipts and carefully balanced his checkbook without incident and reasoned he had enough to pay the bills, and with his weekly check from Sweet Apple Acres due in two days he’d even have a little extra. But as it reached about eleven thirty Caramel began to get restless without clear reason why. He went to go write checks to pay the smaller bills and found himself losing focus and just seeing rows of numbers without real meaning. After a few minutes trying to read through the water bill, Caramel pushed it aside and slammed his head into the table. What was he doing? Not in the sense of forgetting what task he was in the middle of, but what was he doing with his life? Caramel pondered this over. He recently broke up with his marefriend, hid away after embarrassing himself, and was constantly beating himself up over little things. Something wasn’t right, and even he knew that. But... what to do? Caramel decided there was something small he could do. He could go out for a little bit. There was a fresh fruit market and artist’s meet going on by town hall he could walk around. He could pick up some cookies or some donuts over at Sugarcube Corner. He wanted attention. Not a lot, just some simple interaction. Buy something, participate in some small talk, and move on. The excuse of needing fresh vegetables and hay bacon for dinner was enough to convince him to go out. ...after the bills. Caramel focused on doing his bills with renewed energy and finished them quickly. Once he’d written checks and put them into envelopes, he gathered his saddlebags, put the mail in them, and headed out the door. He got to the post office and realized he needed to buy stamps to send the bills. He went to the first available cashier – a beige pegasus with a shock of a red mane, wearing a blue uniform – and deposited the letters on the counter. “I want to mail these letters,” Caramel said. “But I also need stamps for them.” “I can do that for you,” the beige pegasus said. “Let’s see... three letters, all government institutions, plus stamps... five bits for the lot.” Caramel dug out his bit-bag and began counting out five bits. He set them on the counter and looked up to make sure he was good and his payment was accepted. But when he looked up, the beige pegasus now had a curious look about him and was staring at Caramel as though he recognized him from somewhere. “...weren’t you at the Salt Lick Tavern not long ago?” the pegasus asked. Caramel opened his mouth, then froze. A vague remembrance came back into his mind of a similar looking pegasus sitting at a table where Thunderlane had motioned to. This pegasus had seen him read his poetry. “Yeah,” the pegasus said when Caramel had not said or done anything for a while. “You’re the one who went up and read that poem. I thought it was pretty cool.” “Th-Thanks,” Caramel said. He was about to say he didn’t think he did that good, but remembered what Big Macintosh said. “...I don’t do it very often.” “You should!” The pegasus cheerfully collected the bits and took the letters. “We’ll add the stamps and send them out sometime tomorrow. Thank you, and you should go up there more.” Caramel mumbled his thanks and left. In one errand, all his previous resolve dried up. He didn’t want to mill around the market or go to Sugarcube Corner, even if he wanted some fresh vegetables or donuts. He walked slowly home, keeping his head down and hoping no one else recognized him. But his stomach rumbled and reminded him it was nearly lunchtime. Caramel looked around to see if there was a decent place to eat on the way home and saw that Coffee and Cream, the little coffee shop, was open. At first he denied going in there because coffee was hot and it was warm outside, but he realized they sold iced coffee and decided one coffee wouldn’t hurt. There was hardly anyone in there except for the barista. Caramel wondered if everyone was out or the place didn’t do that good of business. He went in quietly and went back up to the barista, Coffee Cream, who smiled at him as he approached the counter. “Welcome back!” he said, apparently remembering Caramel from two weeks ago. “What can I get you?” Caramel looked at the menu above the counter. A few simple sandwiches were available. And they had a meal deal with a small salad and a couple of cookies plus any drink. Caramel decided the low-profile place and the somewhat reasonable price were worth it. “I’ll take a peanut butter and dual-jelly sandwich on whole-grain wheat with a fruit salad, chocolate chip cookies, and a mocha iced coffee,” Caramel ordered. “For here.” Coffee Cream rang up the order and Caramel shoved his bits across the counter. Coffee Cream gave him the card with the red number and Caramel went to sit down at the empty counter, his back towards the large windows that looked out on the street. He looked around the counter and thought about ordering a small glass of water. Coffee Cream came out with his order and set it down. “Anything else?” “Yeah. Can I get a glass of water?” “Sure.” Coffee Cream pulled out a small plastic cup and brought it over to a space on the prep counter behind the register. He shoveled out a bit of ice in the bottom of the cup before pouring clean water from a tap into the glass and bringing it over as Caramel started to dig out his bits. “Oh, you don’t need to pay for that,” Coffee Cream said. “Water’s free.” “Oh,” Caramel replied. “Oh, well, thank you.” “You’re welcome. Just curious, how did you hear of us?” “I just...” Caramel shrugged his shoulders. “I pass by it every day. It’s on my way to Sweet Apple Acres. I’d been meaning to come in for a while.” As Caramel talked, Coffee Cream had gone over and gotten out a clean washcloth and rinsed it down. He wrung it out as best as he could before coming over and wiping down the counter by Caramel. When Caramel was finished speaking, he nodded. “We’ve only been here a few months; I was on almost right when they opened. I’m trying to get money for community college in Canterlot.” “What do you want to do?” “Pharmacy technician,” Coffee Cream answered. “Far cry from being a barista, but I need the work.” He shrugged and went off as a small group of ponies came in, leaving Caramel alone. Caramel ate in peace while Coffee Cream attended to the other group of ponies. The mocha iced coffee was nice and lightly sweet, the sandwich was a pleasing combination of seedless strawberry and pomegranate jelly with a honey-flavored peanut butter, and the fruit was fresh. He decided to save the cookies for later, as they already came in a bag. The food was good and Caramel carefully folded the bag with the cookies and placed them in his saddlebags. He threw his trash away before going over to the counter and placing a couple of bits in a tip jar and headed out the door. He was stopped by another small group trying to come into the coffee shop. At the head was Thunderlane, followed by a lavender-tinted grey unicorn, a purple pegasus with a mint-green mane, and a beige pegasus with a shock of a red mane. “Whoa,” Caramel said. “Déjà vu.” It took a second for Thunderlane to recognize Caramel, but a playful grin broke out across his face when he did. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I’d think this meeting was rather serendipitous.” Caramel didn’t know why, but he was surprised hearing the larger word out of the rather fit and handsome pegasus. ...wait, what? Where did that come from? “It’s an accident, I assure you,” Caramel replied. “Accident or no, would you like to join us for a little bit?” Thunderlane asked. “We were just about to have lunch.” “I just finished lunch myself,” Caramel said. “I was thinking about going to the market and picking up some fresh fruit anyways and want to go while it’ll be relatively empty.” “That’s fine,” Thunderlane said. He politely moved out of the way, and his group of friends followed suit. “See you around, Caramel!” Caramel mumbled his thanks and walked off back home. He had barely cleared the corner when he suddenly stopped in his tracks, remembering again what Big Macintosh had said. Suddenly, he felt like he’d been rather rude to the pegaus; he’d simply come up and complimented Caramel, while Caramel froze, mumbled a few dismissives, and excused himself before he’d given much of an explanation. It wasn’t exactly right to treat the pegasus that way. Caramel turned around. He looked inside Coffee and Cream and saw Thunderlane and his friends sitting at a table, talking and laughing with one another. They must have already ordered and were waiting for their food. Caramel sighed and braced himself. He took a few breaths to calm his nerves, then slowly walked back down the street and into the coffee shop. His first stop was the counter. Coffee Cream looked at him curiously. “...can I get a glass of water?” Caramel asked. Coffee Cream smiled politely and nodded, pulling out another plastic cup and filling it with ice water. Caramel gave him a bit – which Coffee Cream immediately put in the tip jar – and took the glass of water. He took a large gulp of it to calm himself again, then walked over to where Thunderlane and his friends were sitting. The first to notice him was the purple pegasus with the mint green mane. He tapped on Thunderlane’s shoulder and pointed to Caramel approaching them, and Thunderlane turned around with a polite smile. “...d-do you mind if I sit with you?” Caramel asked. “I’m sure we’ve got room.” Thunderlane and the others scooted their chairs around so they were a little closer together, leaving Caramel an open spot between Thunderlane and the purple pegasus. Caramel hooked a hoof around a nearby chair and pulled it to the open spot and sat down with his glass of water, taking out the cookies he had been saving from his saddlebags. “This is Caramel, everyone,” Thunderlane said politely. Each of the ponies around the table offered a greeting. Caramel meekly waved back to them. Thunderlane pointed to each one in turn. “The purple one’s Slapshot, the beige one’s Care Package, and the greyish one’s Written Script.” “You were the one who read the poetry at open mic night, weren’t you?” Written Script said. “I wanted to applaud you for that myself, but I’d gone off to get us a round of drinks.” Which explains why I didn’t see you that night, Caramel thought. “Um... thanks. Actually, if you don’t mind, I wanted to talk to you about that, Thunderlane.” “Of course,” Thunderlane said. “What about it?” “I just wanted to apologize,” Caramel said. “I was a little shy and maybe even a little rude, and left rather quickly and dismissed your compliments. I just wanted to say I was sorry for brushing you off like that and I wanted to say thank you.” Thunderlane wrapped a hoof around Caramel’s shoulders. “Don’t get too worked up over it,” he said. “You were nervous and seemed to have had a few drinks. I don’t blame you for that at all.” Caramel managed a smile. “Thanks.” “Yeah, you did really good!” Slapshot said. “I don’t even think I’ve heard of a decent poem coming out of Written Script that fast.” “I mostly focus on short stories,” Written Script said. “Poetry isn’t my thing. I like fiction better.” “Do you have any more poems like that?” Thunderlane asked Caramel. “Not with me,” Caramel said. “I have a few that are in a brown leather notebook I have back at home.” “How many have you written?” Care Package asked. “About twenty in the last two years,” Caramel replied. “Some could probably use some polishing, though. It’s just a small hobby. I have an idea, I write it down.” “You could pair up with an artist and have a small poetry book in a few years,” Written Script said. “Those tend to sell rather well.” “Have you ever read any in front of an audience before the night at the Tavern?” Slapshot asked. “No. I... I never really had the guts or the nerves for it,” Caramel replied. “You could do it,” Thunderlane said. “You did pretty well up there. You said you were nervous? I could see that, but you got over it and did it. That was actually kind of awesome.” “R-Really?” Caramel said. “Yeah,” Thunderlane said. “It was.” Caramel found that his smile had not gone away. In fact, it only seemed to grow.