Chapter 11: Dinner Party
WHEN I’D ACCEPTED Laurie’s invitation to dinner two weeks earlier, I’d told her weekends were good for me. But the truth was, I’d had to specifically ask not to be scheduled for Saturday evening. I’d been too embarrassed to tell Laurie that after four years at the garden center I still didn’t have a steady schedule. Laurie had secured one she liked after just two years, and I had coworkers who’d been hired well after me who’d had their requests for regular schedules honored.
For a while, I’d just been too shy to ask. But when I eventually did, my boss Vanessa had given me examples of excellent or beyond-the-call-of-duty work my colleagues had done. She didn’t give a reason for telling me, but I got the drift. Stable schedules are a reward for quality work, and apparently just doing my job and not making any big screw-ups wasn’t enough. Just the same, I worked up my courage to ask again a few months later, and got the exact same treatment. Suddenly I could see some advantages to being shy.
On the bright side, my boss generally let me have time off when I asked in advance, even if she did have a sort of resigned tone about it. Saturday night was like that, but it didn’t keep me from having to work the rest of Saturday. I was about to head off to work when I remembered I hadn’t checked Peach’s blog that morning. Maybe she’d said something about her dinner plans?
[Posted: 6/23/18 by Peach]
Pony should pony pony. In fact, in my view, pony has a moral imperative to pony pony. Will explain l8r.
7 COMMENTS
Well, that was good for a laugh. I’d let her off the hook for not mentioning me.
One of the comments was from George:
Oh believe me, duck, I do. I pony pony most every day.
I found myself wondering on the ride to work whether Peach had seen George recently. And if so, whether he was being chaste, like we’d agreed. I also wondered whether Peach would have posted about it one way or the other. So far, she wasn’t chronicling her life on Earth so much as just sharing observations about the culture here. She was starting to get readers and they were starting to ask stuff about her. One reader with a stallion’s face for an avatar wanted to know whether she was available. She hadn’t answered. I wondered whether he was really an Equestrian stallion or just a brony.
I tried distracting myself with thoughts about Jack and Laurie, but it didn’t lift my mood. I remembered the first time I’d seen Jack after the cataclysm, two and a half years ago. He’d been in denial, echoing the talking points of people who thought it was all a big joke. It was really awkward, because I got the idea he didn’t really think it was all a huge media conspiracy, but he kept talking like he really wanted it to be. “They kept saying journalism was dying—maybe it finally kicked the giant bucket.” Stuff like that.
As far as I knew, Jack had never met a pony. But then, until a few weeks ago, neither had I.
Schedules were posted at work for the upcoming two weeks. After changing into my uniform, I wandered into the staff hallway to check them out.
A familiar sinking feeling hit my throat and stomach. I went to find my boss.
“Hey, Vanessa?”
“Yeah.” She was waiting for some label sheets of barcodes to print out.
“I just looked at the schedule, and I’m only on three days next week, and four days the week after, but two of them are half shifts.”
“Uh yeah.” She faced me, kind of. “Ben’s back from medical leave, so he’s on part-time for a while.”
I stood there, irritated by the incompleteness of what she was telling me. “So… is this going to…” She was just looking and waiting for me to finish. “Am I going to get my hours back, or what?”
I could tell she was holding back her own irritation. “Depends on how the new trainees work out. Claire and Amal? They might just stick around until we finish the outdoor section, or they could stay ‘til winter, or I could take them on. Too soon to say.”
The ‘outdoor section’ was an area behind the store featuring landscaping elements. The space had been used inefficiently for potted plants and timbers, and we’d taken on new help to build it up and reorganize. I hadn’t imagined the need for more work would lead to me losing hours.
“But if there’s not enough work for everyone plus Ben, why did we hire them?”
“Because we didn’t have enough staff to rework the section with Ben out,” she explained as if it were obvious. “Now it’s almost done and he’s back, so we’re overstaffed for a while.”
I had more questions, but I felt like I’d already pushed my luck. “So the schedules could keep looking like this? Until winter?”
“Yeah.” Vanessa took her printed sheets and didn’t look at me again. I got the idea there was no guarantee I’d have my hours back even when winter came—she could easily take on one of the seasonal workers as year-round and fire me. I was getting signals this was far from out of the question.
Work was not fun. I now had a wide variety of disturbing thoughts to occupy me when I wasn’t helping someone. I did more math in my head that day than I had in a long time. Mainly calculations of dollars. Time per hour, rent, utilities, bus cards. Was there anyone who’d be happy to give me a shift now and then? Anyone with more hours than they wanted? Not likely, or they wouldn’t have a job like this.
I was gritting my teeth as I knocked on Peach’s door, but I tried to be presentable. You’re visiting a unicorn, Ron. A pretty little pastel unicorn. Smile when you see her.
But I didn’t smile. I gaped.
She was dressed up, and she looked good. It was… it was a cocktail dress! Or gown? I didn’t know, but it had shape, and it was electric blue, and there was this herringbone pattern of little slits up the front that made it look like it was flying apart just a little from its own power. The lace bottom added to the effect, and the whole thing matched her eyes. And the pair of blue anklets on her right hind leg, just hovering there like a space age antenna. And what held it all together was the silver sash she’d been wearing the night we watched Mister Rogers. Aside from the sash and anklets, there was no sign of the clothes she’d had that day, and this dress seemed to fit a lot better.
“Pepper! Do you like it?” Now she was smiling.
“You look amazing,” I managed.
“Kellydell helped. It’s all about bunching the fabric and tying the sash in just the right place.”
I looked her over without coming in. “So is this a… a woman’s dress?”
“Yeah. But it looks almost like it was made for a mare, doesn’t it?”
It really did. I was proud to ride the train in the seat across from Peach, and I even felt a little protective. It felt like someone dressed like this should ride in a cab, and I’d been really tempted to hail one, but all my worries of money came back to me.
“I think it looks really good,” she told me on the train, “but I don’t know if I should even be wearing anything. Do you think I’ll make your friends uncomfortable? You said Jack is kind of weird about ponies, right?”
“Well, yeah… but that’s in the abstract. I don’t know if he’ll be weird tonight.”
“But you don’t know he won’t. Maybe I should have just stuck with the anklets.”
“I really like the anklets, by the way.”
“Me too! I had one like them when I was younger, but it wasn’t quite the right color, and I think two work better.”
“Like rings of a planet.”
“Like the towers in my cutie mark, I was going to say.”
“Oh yeah.” I realized that if I was ever going to ask what I’d wanted to ask, but been afraid to, ever since I’d met Peach Spark, this was the time. “So… I think I probably know you well enough now to ask. What does your cutie mark mean?”
She looked at me in surprise. For a moment I was afraid I’d committed a huge faux pas. She gave her head a little tilt and said, “You haven’t figured it out?”
I felt about as dumb as… well, as I had that morning talking to my boss. “I mean, I understand it’s a spark. And your name is Spark. But… but does that mean you’re really smart, or you’ve got the spark of life, or…”
“When I burn designs into tiny things, like silicon chips or grains of rice, you could say I do it with a spark. It doesn’t happen all at once—I have to make the design line by line, dot by dot.”
“So that’s why.”
“I used to think so.”
I swallowed. “Used to?”
Her head was up and her eyes were locked on mine. “That explains the spark, but why the two towers?”
“I thought they were rods, like in a Jacob’s Ladder.”
“Either way. Rods, towers… it isn’t just a spark in a vacuum. It connects things.”
“Oh,” I said, waiting for more. Then I realized. “Oh. You’re a connector. A connector of worlds.”
She gathered her legs, her front hooves dangling off the front of the seat. “I think that’s why I’m here.”
“That’s why—when did you realize it? As soon you learned about our world?”
“No. I just thought it about was my magical talent, and how I’m good with electronics. Even after I came here, I don’t think I’d really made the connection.” She smiled wryly. “So to speak. It was George who helped me realize.”
I tried not to wince on the outside. “So he’s been good for you.”
Her ears went up. “Yeah, definitely. And I might not have met him without your help.”
How did she think that made me feel? “You’ve been seeing him a lot?”
“You’re being jealous,” Peach said in a small voice. “Please stop.”
“Sorry.” I hadn’t thought I’d been that obvious. So I was caught. What could I say now?
“I’m here tonight, with you,” she went on. “To meet your friends. And George isn’t here. What more could you want?”
I want you to choose me, I thought. “You’re right. I appreciate it.”
Her ears relaxed along with her posture. “It isn’t easy for me either, you know.”
I reflected on that. “Yeah. I know.”
We got to our stop in silence. There was a six block walk through working class houses. The kinds of yards we passed were varied, but the streets were bleakly flat and straight.
“So, I found out today my hours are being cut,” I said into the bleakness.
Peach looked at me sharply. “Your hours? You mean how much you work?”
“Yeah.”
She trotted in relative silence on the grass bay while I stuck to the sidewalk. “Well that’s a good thing, right?”
“Uh, no. No, it’s not.”
“You’d rather work more?”
“If I’m getting paid for it, yeah. I’m not salaried like you, Peach. If they cut my hours, I get paid less.”
“So why are they cutting your hours?”
“Bad planning, basically. One of our workers went on leave for surgery, and the bosses decided to start a big spring project. So they hired two new people, and now the guy’s recovered from surgery and working again, and the project’s nearly done, so there’s not enough work for everyone.”
Peach listened carefully—I could tell she was having a little trouble following. “But isn’t it good if there’s not as much work?”
“Again, no. Less work means less pay.”
“That’s—” She cut herself off. “And this isn’t because of anything you’ve done? They’re not punishing you?”
“Not to my knowledge. My boss doesn’t like me much, but I do my job just fine.”
“And they can do that? They can just decide to pay you less?”
“Yep. It’s not a union job, but even if it was, I doubt it’d make a difference here.”
Peach looked troubled. “That’s not fair.”
I shrugged. I didn’t feel like parsing whether it was fair or not.
“So does this mean you need me to pay you the rest of that money back right away?”
I sighed. “Not exactly. It won’t make a difference until my next check, and I’ve got rent for July. But I’m not sure what I’m gonna do after that.”
I could tell I’d unsettled Peach—she stared into the gloomy dusk. “Would you like me to help out?”
I sighed again, more inwardly. “I’d been hoping you wouldn’t ask.”
“So then, no?”
“I don’t know. I might need a loan down the road,” I muttered.
“If you keep track of the money,” she told me, “I’ll loan you whatever you need. You gave me a loan for my TV.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I don’t want to worry about it for now.”
She paused. “Okay.” And we walked on.
Laurie and Jack’s place had lights on. They lived in a terraced townhouse, and it was odd to see lights shining in all the windows of just one section. Most of the other houses nearby were dark, or nearly dark. Was it just because the sky wasn’t quite dark yet, or didn’t they need much light? Was no one home? Some houses had curtains drawn.
I clapped the knocker while Peach stood there in her slightly disheveled dress. Laurie came to the door. She looked down from my face to Peach before saying a word. “You’re here! Come on in.” And after a moment: “Hi, I’m Laurie, you must be Peach.”
“Yeah,” said Peach. “Nice to meet you.”
It quickly became obvious that Laurie was nervous and Peach was even more so. Why should that be? Just because they were meeting someone new? No, it was because they were different, that’s all. And why should that matter? They weren’t that different, and I liked them both.
“I met Laurie originally on the internet,” I told Peach while we settled on the sofa. “In a political forum.” I figured maybe I could break the ice, chip by chip.
“Oh yeah?” asked Peach.
“That was forever ago!” laughed Laurie. “I think of you more as one of Barrett’s friends.”
“Barrett?” asked Peach.
“Friend of mine from college. He lived here in Elizabeth and I’d come visit in the summers… he had a bunch of buds and we’d hit the Big Apple together.”
“That sounds like fun! And then you met Laurie?”
“Yeah,” said Laurie, “he found out I was local and invited me to one of their get-togethers. That’s how we met in person and from then on I invited him to stuff.”
“But before that, you knew him on a political forum?”
“Yeah,” said Laurie, putting one foot up on her own coffee table. “I don’t know if you know, but Ron here is a pretty good troll.”
Peach looked astonished at me. “A troll?”
“Not like the Glen Troll,” I put in hastily, referring to a Season Six villain who’d held the knowledge of Equestria hostage. “She means like… someone who picks a fight just for the fun of it, but who doesn’t even mean it.”
She only looked a little less concerned. “You used to pick fights?”
“Only for the sake of argument!” I said, embarrassed. “I thought it was kind of… kind of short-sighted how a group of people can get so fired up about a cause that they start all believing one thing.” Now I was the nervous one, looking to Laurie for her reaction. “Even if the issue’s more complicated than that.”
“Ron likes stirring up trouble, or at least he used to,” said Laurie. “He pissed off a lot of people at Sustainable Future, but I liked it.”
“So you’re an activist?” Peach asked Laurie.
“Oh yeah. Off and on, but I try to live the way I want people to live.”
Peach puzzled over that. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“You’d be surprised. Some people want one standard for themselves and another for the rest of the world.” She glanced toward the kitchen, from which a rich hot smell and the sound of sizzling in a pan were gearing up our appetites. Then she noticed us noticing. “Jack was like that when I met him.”
“And you managed to change him?” asked Peach.
“On some level,” shrugged Laurie. “If nothing else, he eats a lot better now. He used to be a burgers and fries guy, and now he’s a better cook than I am.”
“But you’re not married yet, are you?”
Laurie lowered her voice. “Not yet. We both wanted to try things out first. Who knows, maybe someday soon.”
Peach nodded, making intense eye contact with Laurie. She seemed to be struggling for something to say, but it looked like my friends had connected sooner than I’d expected.
“Should we go and meet Jack?” I suggested.
Laurie paused. “Sure,” she agreed. So we all went out to the kitchen.
Jack was poised in front of the stove like a beast in his element. White spatula in his hand, hair pushed back under a colorful worn-out bandana, toes of one boot on the handle of the lower convection oven. There was a saucepan bubbling, and the stuff in the skillet was just as colorful as the bandana, but mushier than I expected. It smelled great, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
“Heard you talking about me,” he greeted us.
“Jack, you know Ronald,” said Laurie. “And this is his friend Peach.”
He looked her over. “Huh. You’re wearing clothes.”
Peach shied back. “I wasn’t supposed to?”
Laurie looked annoyed, but got her cool back. “No, Peach, your line is: ‘So are you.’”
She looked hesitant to say that to Jack, who was a bit intimidating at six foot two. I jumped in. “It’s fine, Peach. So what’s for dinner?”
Jack turned his attention to the stovetop, where he was keeping something from sticking to the skillet. “Veggie manicotti. It’ll be ready in half an hour. You probably don’t want to watch the magic happening—you might lose your appetite.”
“Sorry, folks,” said Laurie. “I thought he was going to be on it sooner.”
“Well, you said seven thirty or eight, right?” replied Jack. “It’ll be ready by around eight.”
“If I say seven thirty or eight, that means aim to finish somewhere in between,” countered Laurie.
“Guess you should’ve said between,” said Jack. “Don’t worry, the wait’ll be worth it. Hey Laurie, show ‘em our trip photos.”
“Really? That’s what boring hosts do,” said Laurie.
“Well then talk,” said Jack. “I’m sure you can find something to do.”
I was about ready to apologize to Peach, but she asked: “You went on a trip?”
“Drove up to the Catskills,” answered Jack. “Went hiking, climbed a mountain, did some trout fishing.”
Peach blinked. “You did what?”
He looked at her again. “Trout fishing? You can’t get much better trout than from the Beaverkill.”
“From the what?”
This conversation was going to be a minefield, wasn’t it? “It’s a river,” I said. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at your pics. Probably some good views, huh?”
“All right, lemme fire up the pad,” said Laurie, heading back into the living room. “C’mon.”
But Jack wasn’t done with Peach. “You never heard of fishing?”
Peach quailed a little. “Is that like hunting?”
“Sure.” Jack scraped the bottom of the skillet a little more dramatically than he had to. “Hunting in the water. Only this was fly fishing, so it’s more like tricking the fish than spearing them would be.”
“Fly fishing? I’ve heard of that. It’s something griffons do.”
“Really?”
“They fly over the water,” said Peach quietly, “and skim fish out in their talons.”
“Uhh…”
“Then they murder them.”
Okay. Laurie and I were back in the living room but Peach wasn’t leaving the kitchen. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Jack was laughing. “You kidding? That’s what fly fishing is on your side?”
“So that’s not what we’re talking about?”
“Nope.” Jack reduced the heat and took a pan out of the oven. “Flies are the bait. Little insects, you know?” He mimed swatting one, which made Peach flinch. “You stick ‘em on hooks, cast the hooks into the water, fish bite ‘em and choke.” He started stuffing manicotti. “That’s when you murder them.”
“Wow, Jack,” said Laurie.
“Is he serious?” asked Peach.
“He’s not lying, but he’s being a fucking lot more grim than he needs to be.” Laurie glared at Jack, who looked at her and shrugged.
“You murder fish?!” shouted Peach.
“Peach, please,” I pled. “Calm down and come in here and we’ll talk.”
“It’s not murder,” retorted Jack. “They’re just dumb animals. I was being facetious.”
“Nah, I get where she’s coming from,” said Laurie. “I used to feel that way, back when I was a teen. I was vegetarian, would’ve been vegan if I didn’t like pizza so much. I didn’t want to kill anything.”
Peach finally turned and left the kitchen. She went for the couches in a huff. “But now you’re fine with killing?”
“If it’s done in a sustainable way, yeah. I hate how we’re overfishing the planet dry.”
“Peach, you knew we eat meat,” I said.
She looked helplessly at me. “Yeah, but I thought it was done humanely somehow. Like on farms.”
“Farms can be some of the worst—” Laurie started, but I cut her off.
“Please, Laurie. Peach, I’m sorry. We should have probably talked about this.”
“Oh. Yeah, that sounds like it would’ve been fun.”
I didn’t know what to say. Laurie picked up for me, joining us at the couches around the coffee table. “Aside from fish, most meat we humans eat comes from large-scale ranches and farms. Cattle, chickens and pigs especially. But we do hunt animals in the wild sometimes, and honestly, if that were the only meat we ate, the world would be a much better place.”
It looked like Peach was near tears, but bouncing back. “Why do you do it?” she asked.
“For food,” said Laurie. “For hides. Because we can.”
Peach blinked at her. And looked at me.
“This is all going in your blog, isn’t it?” I asked.
“You have a blog?” asked Laurie cheerfully.
It wasn’t the most awkward pre-dinner conversation I ever had, since I remembered meeting Cindy’s parents, but it was definitely top five. We did eventually get to the pictures, but only after we had a frank and difficult discussion of the worldwide meat industries, venturing into human prehistory and Laurie’s experiences at an animal rights protest in Cincinnati. Peach seemed to be bolstering herself up, like how tissue forms over a wound. She asked questions and offered very little. And then Jack called out that dinner was ready.
I kept wondering whether I’d been a jerk for accepting this invitation. Half of me felt terrible for hurting Peach, and the other half felt like it was somehow good for her.
Anyway, the manicotti was good. And there was wine.
“No meat in this, right?” asked Peach.
“Not a morsel,” said Jack. “Mashed cauliflower, summer squash, shredded carrot, spinach, collards, and three kinds of cheese.”
“Mmm,” said Laurie.
“I like the sauce,” said Peach.
“Try the wine,” suggested Jack. “It’s an Arneis. Or don’t you drink?”
“Oh I drink,” said Peach, lifting the bottle in an aura of blue that matched her dress. “When the time is right.” The way she said it left no doubt that time was now.
We talked about Peach’s blog. Jack seemed disinterested, and Laurie was disappointed that Peach didn’t have many readers yet. She had some suggestions for advertising—mainly the ways she’d found her favorite blogs and news sources. Peach seemed to appreciate it but still wasn’t too enthusiastic.
There were peas, too. Did I mention the peas? Very nicely cooked, as peas go.
I drank because it would have felt standoffish not to. I did try to go slow, though, because I was afraid of losing what little control I had. Peach liked the wine and did not go slow. Neither did Jack.
“So what’s it like, being a pony?” Jack eventually asked. He was leaning forward over his half-eaten plate, but his posture seemed more defensive than fascinated.
Peach, now tipsy, took a moment to process the question. “You know that’s, like, an impossible question to answer, right?”
“How can it be impossible to answer? And it’s not like I can answer it.”
Peach strove to make eye contact. “I’ve been a pony for my whole life. For most of my life I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t. How am I supposed to know what’s different about being a pony and… and not?”
Jack snorted. “You’re here, aren’t you? You can look at us and see how we are.”
“We should read her blog,” suggested Laurie amiably.
“Yeah,” defended Peach.
“Why should I have to read your blog? You’re here now. Can’t you tell us what you’ve learned?”
“I’m learning that human dinner parties are kind of awkward!”
Laurie chuckled, spraying wine. “Depends on the culture.”
“You know what I mean, and that doesn’t count,” pressed Jack.
“If that doesn’t count then I don’t know what you mean.”
Jack took a bite of manicotti, weighed it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “What is it like, physically? On a physical level.”
“Why are you asking—” I was going to say, …my girlfriend about physical things? But then I remembered she wasn’t my girlfriend.
“Physically? It’s swell. I don’t know. I like being able to lift stuff with magic, even some of my unicorn friends can’t do that.”
“That must be pretty cool,” agreed Jack. “So how do you do it? I mean, do you feel the thing in your mind before you lift it?”
I instantly resented the fact that he was asking questions I hadn’t even asked myself yet, out of respect. Or shyness. Which were really two sides of the same coin, now that my slightly drunken self thought about it. “Jack. Dude.”
“What?”
I wasn’t sure how to phrase my complaint, so I heard my mouth say, “You don’t ask a lady that.”
There was a pause and then Laurie broke out laughing. Peach started laughing too, then, and even Jack joined in. I stared at them all. Then I laughed too, and we all sat making dumb little spurts of laughter.
“It’s like feeling, but it’s not,” said Peach suddenly. “It’s a different sense.”
The laughter went away fast. “So you’ve got six senses?”
“I guess!”
Jack was on a roll. “So, you don’t need to see something to lift it, right?”
“Right, as long as I know where it is.”
“What if someone moved whatever it is since you last saw it?”
“It’s like if I groped for it. I’d try and it wouldn’t be there and I’d feel stupid.”
“What if you know something’s there but not what it is? Could you lift it up then?”
Peach stared, sitting forward with her hind legs in her chair and her front legs resting on the table. Eventually she said, “I’ve got a friend called Second Sight. She said when she got her job, they asked her tons of questions like these. She says if I want to work for her lab, I probably could, and I sometimes wondered what that interview would be like.” Everyone was silent. “Now I guess I know.”
“Jack,” said Laurie, “quit giving her the third degree.”
“No, that’s fine,” insisted Peach, coming a little closer to actually standing on the table. “If there’s stuff you want to know, ask.”
“I already asked,” said Jack, taking a bite.
“What did you ask? What happens if I know something’s there but not what? I can lift it but I have to grope it first. Same as you and your hands, probably.”
“You’re getting kind of worked up, Peach,” I said.
“It’s this guy,” she said, pointing at Jack. “He’s working me up.”
“I’ll be quiet,” said Jack, who was being pretty nonchalant.
“We should play something,” Peach went on. “Something physical.”
“We’re not done with dinner yet,” said Laurie. “And we don’t have any physical games.”
“We have Twister,” said Jack.
“Perfect,” said Peach, finally getting back into her chair. “Let’s play Twister.”
“We’re not playing Twister,” said Laurie.
Peach sat there staring ahead. “My pony friends would play Twister with me.”
“You’re drunk,” said Laurie. “We shouldn’t have let you have so much.”
“I’ll play,” I offered. “If we get to finish eating first.” I tried to hide both my excitement and my apprehension.
“Yeah, let’s finish.” Laurie made eye contact with me as if to ask what you do with a drunken pony. As if I would know.
So we finished eating. Peach took one last big helping of peas and swilled them down like she was licking the plate. Then she went back to the living room and stood there. “So are we playing Twister or what?”
I joined her, sitting on a plush faux-leather couch while she stood. “You have Twister in Equestria?”
“We have a game called Twistabout. I’m guessing it’s the same basic thing. You follow the instructions and all get tangled up with each other?”
I nodded. “Are you sure you want to do that? You just met Jack and Laurie.”
She looked at me plaintively. “It’s all in good fun, isn’t it? Isn’t it an innocent game?”
“…I guess so!”
“Jack wants to know what a unicorn can do. Well I want to show him.”
I smiled a little. “Do you always get this way when you’re drunk?”
“What way?”
I shrugged. I was a little tipsy myself. “Loud and… insistent?”
“Loud, maybe. Insist-insistent?” She pronounced the word like she had to fight to figure out what it meant. “Only if I have something worth insisting on. Remember how I was at the ranch?”
My smile got bigger. “You weren’t happy until you’d ridden a horse and been ridden yourself.”
“Right. I was insistent then and I wasn’t drunk then, was I?”
“I guess not.”
“Was I?”
“I guess not!” I repeated.
“There you go,” Peach concluded, sitting down on the floor.
Laurie joined us. “How’re we feeling?”
“Insistent,” said Peach.
“Really?”
“I don’t know. I’m drunk. I don’t think Equestrian wine has so much alcohol.”
“That makes sense.” Laurie watched Peach for a while. “Well, I feel like a lousy hostess. You want to talk?”
Peach nodded.
Laurie sat down. “So how’d you two meet?”
Peach pointed at me. “This guy gave me an upside-down cake.”
“He did what?”
“Pineapple,” I said.
“Oh. I didn’t know you made upside-down cake, Ron!”
I smiled and maybe blushed. “I found a recipe.”
Laurie pointed at Peach. “Just for her?”
“Yeah. I heard a pony’d moved in and I wanted to meet her.” I smiled bashfully at Peach, who smiled back.
“And… are you dating?” Funny how Laurie hadn’t asked that before.
Peach frowned over at me. “No, it got complicated.” She turned sharply back to Laurie. “Are we supposed to be dating?”
Laurie looked to me for help, but I didn’t have any. “No, I was just asking.”
“Seriously, is that what people expect? Am I supposed to be dating him or I can’t come to dinner with him? I’m not making a point here. I genuinely don’t know.” She pointed at me but looked vaguely at Laurie. “He was coming to visit me once and some jerkbutt on the stairs called me a ‘slut’.” Laurie was about to speak but Peach cut her off. “And I’m not a slut,” she clarified. “Pepper had to explain to me what that meant. But I guess we were supposed to be dating back then, so we were already breaking the rules. And now I’m here still breaking the rules and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I got up and put my hand on Peach’s shoulder. She smiled up at me, almost smugly, like she’d proven a point.
“I guess that’s a ‘no’, then?” said Laurie. “It’s fine either way. And I’m sure you’re not a slut and I’m sorry some asshole called you that.”
Peach laughed. “What’s an asshole?”
“It’s…” Laurie trailed off.
“It sounds funny,” said Peach.
“It’s where the shit comes out,” called Jack from the kitchen. I hadn’t even known he’d been listening.
Peach frowned. “Is that like bodily waste?” she asked unsteadily.
“Yup,” he replied.
“Jesus, Jack,” said Laurie.
“I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore,” said Peach. “But it’s disgusting.”
“I’m really sorry, “ said Laurie. “You want some water? Maybe rest a while?”
She looked back at me. “No, I want to play Twister.”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” Laurie replied.
“Well tough. You made me think about doodoo, that’s how you can make it up to me. Teach me how to play Twister.”
“Ron?” Laurie was pleading with me to take control.
I took a deep breath. “Sure, I’ll play.”
“You’re doing Twister?” called Jack. “I’m in.”
Peach looked smugly at Laurie. “Your boyfriend may be a jerk but he’s more fun than you are.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” swore Laurie. “Fine. I’ll get the set.”
Peach was twice as drunk as the rest of us, but she whipped us good. Four legs’ll do that for you in a game of balance. She rubbed it in too, laughing out loud at us whenever one of us fell. “You humans invented this game and you can’t do any better than that?”
“It’s meant to be tricky,” I said. “You’re built for standing on all fours.”
“Left hand yellow,” called Jack.
“Why make a game that you’re deliberately bad at?” probed Peach. “That’s like… that’s just so dumb.” She laughed again.
I grinned. “You’re kind of a mean drunk, Peach,” I observed.
She was immediately abashed. “I didn’t mean to be! I was just riffling you. Ruffling you. You know what I mean.”
“It’s more fun this way,” explained Jack. “If it were easy we’d be here all night playing the same game. Right hand red.”
Peach put her right forehoof on a red circle and now she was draped halfway over me. I could see her chest heaving through her dress. I really liked her dress but I wished she wasn’t wearing it.
“All right, Team Human,” declared Laurie. “Let’s take this quadruped down.”
“What? No fair!”
“The game’s already no fair,” she pointed out. “We’ve got to stick together to have a chance.”
Peach nodded seriously. “Okay then. See if you can beat me.”
With Jack as the caller, we couldn’t. With Laurie as the caller, Peach still won, though it was closer. But with me as caller, Laurie and Jack managed to snipe all the easy circles from Peach before she could reach them, and she wound up crossing her legs across each other and eventually having to flip upside-down. “I bet Seaswell would love this game,” she said. “His legs are like noodles. I’m getting a little dizzy.”
“Right foot blue,” I called.
Laurie and Jack swiftly snagged the blue spots near Peach’s left back hoof. She looked panicked for a moment, then made a stab for the nearest one remaining, twisted slowly around like a mobile, and collapsed. “Whoof!”
Jack fell too, but Laurie stayed up. “So we finally got you,” she noted.
“You got me. You tricked me with your dirty tricks, and you got me. And now I’m lying on the floor in a house on Earth because I couldn’t put my hooves on colored dots enough.”
Laurie laughed. “That’s about the size of it.”
Peach rolled over and sprawled out. “This world is weird.”
“You kidding?” said Jack. “Your world is the one with all the crazy stuff.”
Peach was still for a moment. “Says you,” she savored.
“Yeah I say. I thought it was all a hoax ‘til they had Celestia live at the G8 Summit. Even then I wasn’t sure.”
“You thought all us ponies were a hoax?” asked Peach, sounding hurt.
“It sounded so made-up,” said Jack.
“You sound made-up,” retorted Peach.
“I’m just a guy,” said Jack.
“Well I’m just a girl,” said Peach.
“Come on, everyone,” said Laurie. “Let’s be nice.”
So we all just sat or lay there in silence for a while.
“I miss George,” said Peach.
“Who’s George?” asked Laurie.
“My special somepony,” mumbled Peach.
Huh.
I wondered what I would do if I were sober.
They started asking Peach about how she met George and what dates they’d been on. I knew some of it and didn’t want to know the rest.
“Peach,” I said.
She turned to me, a little nervous. “Yeah?”
“Maybe we should go.”
She frowned. “You think so?”
“You shouldn’t go yet,” said Jack. He had the kind of dumb-ass grin you’d wear if you were on the verge of making a girl get undressed.
“Well my vote doesn’t count,” said Peach, “’cause I don’t know what’s going on.” She wheeled around to Laurie. “So what do you say?”
She looked between me and Jack, concerned. “Yeah, it’s probably about time,” she conceded.
Peach sighed. She climbed, with some difficulty, to her hooves. “Well, it’s been a time.”
“No it hasn’t,” said Jack.
“Yes it has,” countered Peach defensively. She looked from one face to another. “Hasn’t it?”
“Sure it has,” said Laurie.
“Yeah, I was just fooling,” added Jack. He pushed the knuckles of one hand against Peach’s body for a moment, like a fist bump mixed with a pat on the back. “Nice having you over.”
“Thanks for dinner,” I told him and Laurie.
“Anytime,” said Laurie. “You two gonna be all right on the train?”
Peach exchanged a glance with me. “I’m good to go.”
“I can give you a ride,” offered Laurie.
“I think we’re okay,” I said.
We said goodbye and stepped out.
Peach looked around the dark street like she hadn’t seen it already on the way in. Most of the houses had lights on now, so I guess it was kind of different. I felt pretty different too. We started walking.
“So does this mean you’ve chosen?” I asked.
“I’m really sorry,” said Peach. “I’m intoxicated on wine and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were going to choose. Between George and me.” It wasn’t easy getting the words out. “You said he was your special somepony. Does that mean you’ve chosen him?”
“Oh!” Her ears went up and she was thoughtful for a while. “I didn’t even think about that.”
“I guess that’s kind of the problem,” I remarked.
We walked back to the train in silence.
Then Peach started asking a lot of questions. Stuff about townhouses and human dinner traditions (as if there’s such a thing) and was this a dinner party or just a get-together and when was Twister invented? I actually started getting into it enough that I almost forgot how disappointed I was.
I walked her up to her apartment. She stood tall and looked at me for a long time. She seemed sad.
“You gonna be okay, Peach?”
“I think so. I just feel like kind of a lousy friend.”
“Do you remember why?”
She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head slowly.
I hugged her around the neck and chest. “Get some sleep.”
I didn’t go to sleep for a while. Watched some TV, took down a load of laundry. Crazy dreams I still remember but don’t want to talk about.
There was no new post from Peach in the morning. I would have liked to go to work that day, but my schedule had been cut, so I went to the park for a poor man’s workout at the exercise stations. Wandered through town, read the Sunday funnies in a coffeeshop, did some light shopping, got home and poked around at some online job listings, just in case. Made dinner.
By the time I was done eating, Peach had a post up. I read it while my tea kettle whistled.
[Posted: 6/24/18 by Peach]
I made some new human friends last night. Then again, it may be too soon to call them friends. I get the idea that word doesn’t get tossed around as early in a relationship on this side as it does on ours.
What I’m not sure about is whether they mean something different by it here or whether they’re just slower to make friends. What I’m leaning toward, though, is a matter of faith. Equestrians meet someone new and we have faith that our relationship with them is going to develop in a positive, mutually constructive way. So we’re comfortable calling them our friend pretty much right away. Terrans meet someone new and they don’t know what the future holds with them. There are any number of ways their relationships can develop and at the beginning all they have is clues. So they use ‘acquaintance’ and hold off on ‘friend’ until the evidence starts rolling in.
In case this seems hard on them, I should be fair and point out that their relationships may be more complex than ours, even when they have good intentions. The path here is longer, and the missteps are better hidden than on our side. The final destination may be prettier too—I wouldn’t know. I’ve only just started walking the path, and I’m already lost.
Oh—and they have manicotti here. Best manicotti of my life last night.
I have to run an errand, but tomorrow you get to hear about Terran wine and their version of Twistabout.
6 COMMENTS
I knew I should be irked that she’d written about the dinner party and still hadn’t mentioned me, but when I looked again I saw myself all over that blog post.
I held my face in my hand and cried.
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4669211 Sounds sensible, Shachza! And a nice title. Maybe it work work as an alternate title after the word 'or'.
4669226 Glad you think so! But you didn't make me dance! You could have given me a line to include in that chapter, per your status as the 100th comment maker.
4669254 Peach loves it! But she reserves the right to have foals until such time as she discovers a hidden trove of teats somewhere on her body.
4670794 ....Aaand good point. Looks like it's 55 kids or none!
4672960 I wonder whether Peach knows the story of the Garden of Eden! I'm sure she'd find it fascinating. Maybe I'll even use that idea.
4677093 Cool beans, Yoshi!
4684388 Full equine experience, yo!
4691254 Glad you like it, Phoenix! I like the way you stuck an emotion on the 'spoiler' like Rarity was saying it.
4824630 Some FimFiction database got emptied or something, so updates were temporarily not going out. Should be fixed now! So let's head your thoughts on the last few chapters! I love comments NOM NOM.
4919051 4919917 See above!
4920214 If I've managed to convey the sense of a 'ponycentric point of view', then yay! Indeed, with a different interlocutor, Peach might have some passionate discussions of destiny. Maybe she does on her blog! As for kissing, they agreed in Chapter 8 to hold off until Peach makes up her mind. Was your question rhetorical?
4921689 Six drams. Thanks for asking!
4975738 If I told you that I don't know where the story is going either, would that disappoint you?
5063040 Thanks ferret! And yes, Dinky does come to my mind when I think about Dinkytown. I play a very unusual portrayal of Dinky online.
5310513 Thanks for your answers and compliments, Monkeytsu! It's neat there are people from NJ reading this. The truth is, I've never even been there myself! But no one's told me I've gotten anything wrong yet.
Your alive!
Peach doesn't understand humans at all. She probably has no idea beyond "not being a very good friend" just what she put her "friend who wants to be more than a friend" through. If this were not a story, there is a very good chance she would never see him again. If he were not the kind of guy he is, there might be a pony-human confrontation with George.
With having his hours cut, there is hardly any reason for him to STAY. This is one of those cases where a fair number of people would impulsively move away.
I shouldn't be so surprised that this was actually quite an emotional chapter for me. You do a really well about writing the kinds of things that I go through and the result I pretty much expect. Oh, and don't forget the fallout. Can't forget that. It's somewhat distressing because I can put myself right into the story and think, "yup, this is exactly how it would go down."
But in that sense - your writing that is - this story has become somewhat inspiring for my own.
5335798
Does that mean more is near?
5336214
Unfortunately not. I'm doing my best to work for at least an hour a day on it, but I have 1 big scene to finish, another two write, and a couple smaller things as well. Though I'm considering splitting it so I can post sooner.
If it were me in this story I'd be very tempted to just go over to George's place to tell him that he won last night and that Peach was his. 'Cause insecurity and defeatism go hand in hand.
new chapter...don't know if i can read this anymore
stay classy
I guess it goes without saying that this was a very sad chapter. Perhaps the part that resonated the most was Peach revealing her feelings for George and the way she did it; a mere slip of the tongue which had been loosened by too much wine. What's so saddening about this, is that in most cases where this sort of thing happens, the person we like will often avoid telling us they like someone else, leaving us to hear about it from a mutual friend whom they did decide to tell.
Pepper had the added misfortune of being in the same room when Peach unwittingly spilled the beans.
It'll be interesting to see how his friendship with Peach will proceed from here, now that this very hurtful truth has been revealed. Something tells me that the bitter taste of reality we experienced in this chapter is only the begining for what future chapters hold.
Keep up the excellent work.
This story is one of the rare ones.
Great chapter. The tension between Peach and Pepper has been agonizing every time you update. I had a nice big post written last night after reading this before bed, but I slept on it and decided it's more succinct to say that I care a lot about these characters.
I'm still hoping they kiss eventually.
Well, I'm reasonably sure there have been more awkward dinner parties than that, but for the life of me I can't think of one.
I'm not sure what to make of the thing with George. On one hand, she did call him her special somepony. But on the other, she was drunk, and clearly confused if the final blog was any indication. I'm still rooting for Pepperspark, and the time-scale you mentioned in the author's note implies there's plenty of time for things to work out. I just hope Ron doesn't do anything stupid.
5337996
I think they will.
5338037
Peach's blog subtly lays out the conflict behind this chapter though, like Pepper, I had to read it twice.
Peach is used to a world where she can go up to stranger and say, "I like you." If the stranger says, "I like you too," then they are now friends. It's that simple.
In a similar vein, if a pony goes up to Peach and says, "I like-like you," then she has a really good idea that they are romantically interested. If she says the same back, then they are now fillyfriend and coltfriend. Again, it's that simple.
So now we come to George and Pepper. Pepper's problem is not just that he's human - and expects the initiation of the relationship to be a bit more lengthy and involved - he's also shy, so he's taking baby steps. George is used to the same things Peach is and just declared his intentions and waited for Peach to reply. He essentially cut in line ahead of Pepper, who is still sorting things out. Peach sees Pepper's reluctance when she expects more forwardness and has no idea what to think.
It's a nightmare scenario for someone like Pepper. He's going to find it difficult at best to compete with George on the playing field that Peach expects. The blog at the end really hammers home how badly Peach's differing procedural expectations are going to hurt his chances regardless of whether he's someone she would actually like.
Not the main focus of the chapter, but I'm kinda surprised by how upset she was about fishing. I mean, we've seen Fluttershy feed some of her animal fish on the show, we've seen Rarity's father fishing personally, most of the main cast have pets that eat meat, the Griffons eat meat (which she specifically mentions), and yet she gets all bent out of shape because we do it too?
Not gonna lie, the MC here is starting to show his creeper tendencies. He's obsessed with Peach. I honestly believe that he's infatuated with obsession and not a healthy emotion behind his attraction to her. He's relatable, but he's also rising high on my 'creep-dar'. From here, it looks like he's locking himself into a friendship with an individual he has intense feelings for, driven by obsession, which he has no real chance to resolve. Nor would it be emotionally healthy for him to be in a relationship with Peach at this point. He's fawning so hard, that he's lost a bit of himself in the process. Its OK to have a crush. But this is something else entirely. I mean, he reads her blog everyday in hopes that he is specifically mentioned in the article and gets upset when he isn't.
At least, this is how I've been interpreting it. I have been slowly coming to this conclusion, but this chapter solidified it for me.
I've changed my vote. I'm now rooting for Peter to get his heart broken. It's a truly sadistic thing, but I honestly believe that it would be better for him in the long-run. Maybe he can meet another mare? I don't know. I do know that how he is acting is reflecting a much more rooted unhealthy emotional state that won't go away even if he does end up with her.
PS - For some reason, I'm not getting updates from your comment replies OR your story updates. I have no idea why. I understand this was an issue when you rolled out a previous chapter as well.
5369710 I disagree. I think he is just confused, and a little lonely. So he reads her blog, I read my friends Facebook pages. He wants to be mentioned becuase he just wants to feel important, or needed in someone's life.
He ought to do himself a favour and call the whole relationship thing off. Going after someone who would string two guys along because she doesn't know who she wants more is never worth the effort. Relationships aren't window shopping, if you don't know who you want you clearly want neither of them enough.
That blog post was fucking brutal.
5349047
you're not the only one...
...they're not going to fully hook up, are they? Peach has already instinctively chosen, and best he can get is strong friendship.
We're betting he tries pretty hard, though...
Oof. Poor guy.
Re-reading this in 2021 I’m discovering a lot of cues that nowadays would make me run for my life in a relationship. Now that I’m not as emotionally attached to the characters I can see how a lot of toxicity is creeping in between them without them knowing. It kind of justifies the ending when I think about it. Poor guys...
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