Why the Gift is Given

by Impossible Numbers

Why the Lie was Told

Ruby knew what was wrong the instant she saw the lights were out. And in that instant, she wanted to turn around and walk back. Sheer habit, pity, and a childlike inability to veer off-course soon had her at the door.

It wasn’t locked. A bad sign. She forced herself not to whimper.

Instead, she strode right in. Look tough. That was it.

She found Piña standing outside the lounge, looking utterly lost. Guided by memory, Ruby walked into the dark room and flicked on the lights. Magic sparks fizzed and spat overhead. A gradual light filled the space.

The sofa had its back to them. Berryshine’s limbs slumped over the arm and footrest.

Ruby glanced back at Piña, who gave a start and shook her head fast.

“Um,” said Ruby. “Auntie?”

As though ready to bolt, Ruby stepped carefully around the sofa.

Berryshine had a bottle clasped between ergot and hoof at the end of her other forelimb, but otherwise didn’t seem aware of its existence. She had a book open on her lap, and her half-open eyes struggled to focus on it. On a book she’d been reading in the dark.

Tactfully, Ruby leaned down to check the cover. A Daring Do book. Berryshine kept saying they were her favourite books as a foal.

Berryshine hiccupped.

“Hullo, Ruby,” she said in a thick voice. “I didn’t even know it was dark.”

Ruby said nothing. At moments like this, she felt the world trying to turn upside-down, and she fought it.

“What’s wrong?” she said, for a moment feeling more adult than child.

“Ha!” Berryshine belched. When she next spoke, her voice was still strangely thick. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m a goooooood pony, aren’t I? Nothing’s wrong if I’m a gooooooood pony. I just like grape juice. Pinot Noir, they call me. I can tell.”

She hiccupped again.

Ruby sighed. Both Amethyst and “Carrot Top” had told her about this at various times. Grape juice, or just too many grapes, could send a pony funny in the head. For weeks, Berryshine had experimented with mixtures of berry juice, cider, and crushed red grapes, always going on about how it’d be loved by ponies all over. It was certainly loved by Berryshine. She’d made herself the head taster.

The trouble, of course, was that drinks-making was locked onto her flank. One bunch of grapes. One strawberry. A master of punch bowls, which should have been great when parties broke out all the time here.

Except for one problem: a party did not always mean a demand for punch. Sometimes they preferred simple juices. Sometimes milk and milkshakes. Sometimes coffee and tea. Which meant sometimes, most of the time, nearly all of the time in fact, Berryshine’s entire purpose in life depended on whether a bunch of ponies thought punch was in this season.

And when it wasn’t… well, Berryshine hardly needed an excuse…

The bottle thudded on the carpet. Eyes bloodshot, Berryshine yawned and half-melted off the chair before struggling to her hooves.

“I’m a good pony,” she said to the opposite wall. “Aren’t I, Ruby?”

Piña whimpered. The worst thing about being lost, Ruby knew, was the feeling that she shouldn’t be lost at all.

“Do you wanna see what I got you?” said Berryshine.

Yet Piña clearly didn’t understand. Ruby, on the other hoof, suddenly did. It was a trial to watch, but…

“Auntie Berry…” She gulped. “You… didn’t get the birthday bash commission. Did you?”

The shocked pause told her everything.

Nonetheless, Berryshine unfroze. She fumbled her way out of the lounge and down the hall. While Ruby followed her hoofsteps – being dragged along by unseen chains – her “Auntie”, her big dumb cousin, her lying, shameful so-called Auntie Berry flung open the cupboard and rummaged around inside.

“See? Just because I don’t have as much as usual, doesn’t mean I can’t deliver, right?” Berryshine kicked the door shut. “Look what I got! Isn’t it wonderful? I can give you stuff after all!”

It was a trial. No “but”. No good side. Nothing.

That’s all it was now.

Ruby would’ve sighed, except she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Clothes,” she said, “Auntie Berry?”

“Not just any clothes. I had these imported from Manehattan. They’re the in thing this season, not that we care about that sort of thing, but one must, eh? I’ve got two tickets to the Canterlot Garden Party, and I’m giving them both to you two. See, Piña? Yours is under Ruby’s here? You’ll look like princesses now! My little princesses!”

They must have cost a month’s worth of money. Each. At least. And to have them imported –

Forget it. This time, Ruby sighed anyway.

“Time for bed, Auntie Berry,” she said.

Berryshine did not dare move for several moments. Then a smile struggled on her muzzle.

“You won’t fall behind, see?” she said. “You’re still waiting for your cutie marks. You could be whatever you want, and I made it happen, see?”

“It’s not you,” said Ruby, more to herself than to Berryshine. “It’s just the stuff in that bottle talking. Carrot Top always says so.”

“Everyone will see you in these lovely dresses,” said Berryshine, but the defeat was draining what little strength her voice had. She was almost yawning the words.

Piña looked pleadingly at Ruby, who groaned.

“Come on, Auntie Berry. Time for bed.”

Yet when she reached forwards to guide Berryshine up, the grown-up stiffened like a stubborn mule.

“You’re not throwing me into the street!” yelped Berryshine to some invisible pony before her. Her eyes shot open. “You’re not!”

“No one’s throwing you into the street. That sort of thing doesn’t happen in Ponyville, Auntie Berry. But it’s time for bed. You’re tired.”

“Oh, why oh why oh why!? I’ve been so selfish!” Berryshine resisted no more, and as delicately as one carrying a china cupboard, Ruby led her up the stairs, nodding to Piña so she’d push from the rear. “I’m an idiot. What am I? Why are you even bothering? I’ve done nothing to deserve anything.”

“Yes, Auntie Berry. No, Auntie Berry.” Ruby didn’t care about the words. So long as Berryshine heard a reassuring tone, she’d cooperate.

They guided her through the doorway and eased her gently onto the bed. Ruby knew what her Auntie Berry was doing, and she wasn’t going to rise to it. She just wished her Auntie Berry didn’t do it. At all. Ever.

“There you go,” said Ruby. Trying to look relevant, Piña fluffed the pillow.

Both of them backed out. Knowing Berryshine, she’d be out like a light within minutes. While her gaze was fixed on the bed and on its slumped occupant, Ruby eased the door to a close with a click. Not once had her Auntie Berry made any effort to get up again. It was as if she were already asleep.

“We’ll let her rest,” whispered Ruby to Piña, “and play a game again, OK?”

Piña’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of the landing. “Is Sis going to end up in a box?” she whispered, horrified.

Ruby shuddered. “What?”

“Only Dinky said that Amethyst said that Carrot Top said that ponies who don’t earn their way end up in a box.”

“Nah,” said Ruby, far more confidently than she felt. “Carrot Top’s just a cynic. So’s Amethyst.”

“Huh?”

“They’re grumps, Piña. Auntie Berry won’t end up in a box. The other ponies wouldn’t let her. This is Equestria and that sort of thing just doesn’t happen here.” Feeling her cousin deserved some accuracy, she added, “Maybe in the big cities. But not in Ponyville. OK?”

“OK?”

“Right, then.” Ruby tiptoed downstairs: an unusual feat for an ungulate with one toe per foot, but a feat she was well used to, after so many nights like this one. “Game time. You’ll feel better after a nice game.” We’ll feel better. Right now, I feel like I’m gonna be sick.

“She loves us, you know,” said Piña, clinging to the fact like a lifebelt.

Leading the way, Ruby crept down the stairs and across the hall. “I know.”

“She isn’t selfish.”

“I know.”

“She just wants us to be good ponies.”

Good ponies. Using flashy dresses? I don’t think so. “Come on. I’ll be Daring Do this time.”

Piña cried out.

“SHH!” hissed Ruby. “Auntie Berry’s trying to sleep!”

“I want to be Daring Do.”

“All right! Fine! You’ll be Daring Do this time. And tomorrow, I think I need to talk to someone.” She pushed the lounge door open.

“Huh? Who? What for?”

“A grump. I’m sure I’m on the right track. About the inquiry, I mean. Let’s just play this game for now, OK, and try not to think about it.”

When she looked into herself, she felt nothing. This was back to normal. She could deal with normal. She didn't need to think.

She didn't want to think. Or to feel. She did not want anything.

Yet she could not stop thinking about those dresses. They were hers. They would never be hers. They were too good. They were rubbish, overpriced garbage. After bedtime, she spent most of the night lying awake on the mattress, trying not to think about dresses. Willing herself to sleep. Feeling nothing. Wanting nothing more, and especially ignoring the sobs coming from the next bedroom.

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Comments

[PresentPerfect]

You have eminently captured the terror of a child living in an adult's world.