A Story of Love (Among Others)

by TheMareWhoSaysNi

The Man with the Golden Arm

The darkness and tranquility of this room didn't help me to find some sleep. In a few hours only, Rarity's alarm clock was going to ring. Last night, she invited me for a sleepover and I had to suffer mud packs and hours of nail care. But it was okay, at least it allowed me to think about anything else than my issues.

I tossed and turned in the huge bed I shared with my friend and I watched her sleep for a short while. Her peaceful figure slowly outlined in the dark. She looked calm, which was a complete contradiction with the muffle anxiety that was shaking her from inside and a smile I couldn't control appeared on my face. I've always envied her perfect features, her silky hair and her wide dark blue eyes with very long curved eyelashes. Her ability to always appear fresh in the morning, when I was a complete mess whenever I took a nap.

I turned around again, offering her my back. I could barely hear her breathing against the mellow pillows of her bedroom, like the one of a luxury suit. One more minute flew by, red figures of the alarm clock clearly floating in the dark. I couldn't help wondering whether Soarin was asleep like Rarity or whether, like me, he couldn't find sleep.

I counted months separating us, weeks, days, hours if not minutes. Soon it was going to be five months since the autograph session. If nothing changed quickly, we would had spent more time apart than in our relationship.

We weren't asking for what was impossible. We only wanted a few free hours from time to time, not that much, and even if it was only to hear the sound of his voice and to tell him silly things.

Once, Soarin and I went to the restaurant where we ate together for the first time. It was scalding hot outside, with blurry horizon and nothing to cool the air, not even the start of a breeze. Mrs. Sugarcoat had turned on an old fan in the back of the room and it was snoring and almost covered the sound of the television.

Soarin couldn't stop pulling his collar with a sigh and though I had a summer dress on, I kept on feeling sweat along my back. It was impossible to eat something hot with such a weather. Instead of my usual vegetable sausages soup, I chose a huge salad and fallafels. Soarin chose a spicy baked beans with green curry, a choice I couldn't understand.

Regularly, I could see him cursing because the sauce burned his tongue and the curry was too hot. Mrs. Sugarcoat always spiced her hottest dishes a bit too much and he knew it, yet he decided to have this, which was one of the dishes he loved the most.

"Why did you take this if you know it's very spicy and you won't be able to eat it all because of that?"

"Because it tastes very good," he answered, the corner of his eyes wet. "How the ingredients are mixed together, everything... You know, it's addictive. Even if you do know how hot it is, you can't help but ordering that anyway."

I didn't think I would remember that very common conversation. In fact, I had forgotten about this day until it suddenly popped back into my mind. First, I couldn't understand why I had this particular memory back at this exact moment.

But slowly, I got it. One of the most amazing thing about human brain is that it's able to keep a lot of information buried, to stock them in our minds and make them reappear at the right moment.

Our love story was a bit like cooked beans with green curry. At the beginning, it sounded like an inappropriate choice but the ingredients had a taste that turned it addictive. That pleasure, however, was a little masochist. It went hand in hand with an unpleasant sensation burning your throat. Despite this annoyance, you knew you couldn't help getting back to it. Even if you knew it was spicy hot, you also knew it was all worth it, if only for the brief moments of euphoria when the good taste would touch your palate.

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The basses were rumbling through my ears. Whenever you looked at, there was a crowd and the space between people was none. Hands were up in the air, while hundreds and hundreds of feet were beating time.

Welcome to the Queenie Yacht club, one of Canterlot's must famous and most spacious dancefloors. It never emptied and at its rush hour, it was able to gather something like three hundred souls. Here, everything was glittery. Ordinary life just wouldn't do, you needed to be noticed among the crowd, despite it being sickly thick.

Each time I was feeling blue, each time I was growing too frustrated and impatient, Canterlot's night had my back and made me understand life was the most important thing of it all. Little by little, I took the habit to go out clubbing on the weekends, with Coloratura.

Yellow balloons with smileys on were going from hands to hands, bouncing among the crowd. Blue, pink and white beams were sweeping the room, brushing everyone's heads and made the place looked almost unreal. Sitting on one of the leather chairs everywhere around the club, I tried to make contact with Coloratura. She'd been swallowed up by other people and once again, I lost her after another suitor had approached her.

We always arrived together but very often, she stopped worrying about me after a few drinks. Coloratura was popular with all sorts of men. From Adonises to men dressed in Italian suits with luxury watches. She even attracted women, buff of her porcelain complexion and her yoga-made curves.

I was supposed to be her bodyguard and avoid too many men to hit on her, but she never refused the presence of any of them. She liked to feel desired, to know she was attractive and to have many affairs. It wasn't in order to be loved, since she was worst than I was about love. She thought it only brought you problems and misery and I was starting to think she was true.

I wanted to be like her. I didn't want to live my life as a prisoner of hope, of memories, or expections, of anything else. I was hanging at the branches of my life and everything was good to take not to let the anger I felt winning over me.

I heard artists were better when a little tortured. As if to comfirm the saying, I was doing sports and most importantly, playing music all the time. Everyone around me said I had never played so well, sang so much in tune.

Finally, Coloratura reappeared in front of me. Her skin was flowing with sweat, rolling along her temps and sticking her curly hair to her skin, which even more attracted glances towards the deep low-cut of her sequin top that she wore without any bra. Beside her, there was a man with a white shirt and jeans. If Coloratura was liked by a large range of men, she always liked the same ones. Older than her, either quiet strength or toxic masculinity, those who'd be able to dominate her but that she dominated anyway, from her small 5'24 feet tall.

They kissed quite unromantically and the men left without a complain to get the drink she asked. He was barely out of the picture that already, another one came closer and whispered something in her ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying but something told me he wanted to see her later.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" she yelled at me. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"It's too crowded."

I grabbed the bottle of beer that I'd ordered earlier but no drop went into my throat and I put it back down, disappointed.

"You should get on the dancefloor, it's good sports too. Come on, I'll get you another drink."

"What about your BF?"

She shrugged, as if it was the least of her worries that this guy would be expecting something from her. Coloratura never got endeared with anyone, like ever. I was the first friend she had in years. Even in the musical industry, she didn't really rubbed shoulders with anyone, except maybe Fire Streak whom I introduced to her a few months ago. She didn't care about when her record company would finally be more active with her promotion, she didn't care about her reputation. She didn't care about anything, except her own rules.

She was right. Getting on the floor and dance would be some sort of exercise. I was going to plunge in the overpowering rhythm of the basses, in the cheerfulness of the place and once under the beam of lights, everything else would vanish away.

I followed her among the crowd, where we penetrated easily. Coloratura moved her hips with too much sensuality and immediately, all eyes were on her. All male eyes. I would never count, with my dancing moves a little too "hip-hopish" and never enough "feminine". I didn't care, I wasn't there to get hit on. I was there to have some fun.

Yet, among all those anonymous faces, I noticed someone. A boy I already seen before but couldn't quite situate. I was obliged to rack my brains... And suddenly, it hit me. I knew exactly where I had seen him before. I even talked to him once...

I apologized to Coloratura and get started what seemed to be an impossible mission (no, no references to movie, I don't like that franchise, sorry). I wanted to catch up this boy, an unexpected bridge between my reality and a certain past. I couldn't let him go because he was my only remaining connection with him.

We both were often stopped in our course. He seemed to be going in direction of the exit, which sounded rather strange. Everybody knew this was the best time at the Queenie Yacht club, the moment where the atmosphere reached its climax. I had to lay my hands on him before he would be definitely gone.

Many girls stopped him. I didn't know what they were telling him and I didn't know what he answered but I could figure out the content of their statements, because sometimes boy would stopped my progression for the same reasons. I received compliments about my body, I was asked for my number or if I wanted to dance... Even without that quest, I would accept none of the invitations. I was flattered, especially as it always seemed to me I was too much of a tomboy to attract any other boys than Soarin, but I would feel like cheating on him otherwise.

I didn't care about the others. I wanted Soarin and nobody else, like Marilyn only wanted Tony Curtis in "Some Like It Hot" (poopoopidoo).

Somehow, I was able to get out of the dancefloor but the boy had escaped. No more traces of him. He probably was gone and I had missed my chance to speak with him. I couldn't remember his name but I knew I hadn't mistaken and he was who I thought he was. A rookie actor with Flithy Rich as his agent. I saw him last year, at Soarin's birthday party and also at the backstage of a show, where he was hired as a staff member.

I felt exhausted after all that I went through, for nothing at all. Screams resounded behind me. Waitresses had climbed on the counters and were pouring alcohol directly into the mouthes of clients. An even wilder frenzy took over the crowd and the music sounded even louder, if that was possible.

I was going to need a drink and unfortunately, this wasn't the right time to get to the bar. Before I threw myself again in the snake pit, I needed a break. I couldn't go back there point blank, not after this disillusion.

In the women's bathroom, the house music of the speakers was muffled, covered up my various conversations yelled over it. I tried to isolate myself from this bubble. Instead of putting on lipstick or more mascara, like all the girls around me, I splashed cold water on my face. Probably that was why someone once invented waterproof makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror, under the pale light and my face was as red as a poppy. It was too hot in here!

I barely had stepped out that I had a glimpse of the boy I followed through the floor. He was going to think I was some sort of lunatic... But I had to try. I stopped him mid-track by the sleeve of his tee-shirt and as soon as he turned around, his face brightened up, which made me think he recognized me. And then, his name came back to my mind.

"Are you Cheese Sandwich? A rookie actor under contract with Mr. Filthy Rich?"

"A rookie standup comedian, in fact. Yeah, that's me. And you're... Soarin's girlfriend, right? I'm sorry, I can't remember your name."

"Rainbow Dash..."

"Oh yeah, Rainbow Dash. Very cool name. Did you want to know something?"

My intentions probably were clear. I was unable to conceal anything when it came to Soarin. I opened my mouth and felt female arms wrapped around my neck. Cheese Sandwich opened his eyes wide as he saw Coloratura hanging at my neck like some jealous girlfriend.

"I've been looking for you all over. Who's that guy? Does he piss you off?"

Coloratura barely adapted her personality and habits to the persons she was interacting with. Social status, age, everything that constituted the codes of decorum were whisked away with her and the only exceptions were when she was impressed by the persons in front of her (a very rare occurence) or if she knew she had something to gain.

"No... He's one of Flithy Rich's actors. Name's Cheese Sandwich."

She looked at him from top to bottom and there wasn't a spot of his body which escaped her examination. Standing in front of us, Cheese Sandwich was rubbing his neck, looking at her low-cut. I wouldn't have been surprised to see him blushing.

I wasn't sure whether he was his type of guy. He was tall but rather slender, no broad shoulders, his hair was curly and brown and his skin was olive, with big green eyes and an impish air floated on his face.

"Hey, good-looking! I'm Coloratura. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, nice to meet you too."

"Have you seen Soarin recently?" I asked, cutting of my friend's courtship ritual.

The question was sudden, if not a little abrupt, I know. I tried to hold myself back but I couldn't stand it for too long after I ran after him for so long. I hadn't forgotten yet that one of the reason why I was here was because I wanted to forget a pain buried inside by getting intoxicated with music and alcohol. I hadn't even heard the sound of his voice anywhere else than on television for at least six months.

"No, I'm sorry. He's like super busy shooting movies after movies. Maybe I'll see him at the Everfree Awards... I'll award a prize there."

I opened my mouth and closed it immediately. Words were failing me. He was my ultimate trump. When Filthy Rich announced us it would be harder now to see each other, I couldn't imagine how hard it would be. Even when Fire Streak told me about his painful story with Lily Lace, I didn't take into consideration the whole scope of the matter. Not only we couldn't see each other like AT ALL but any kind of contact was forbidden.

"But still, I can get your phone number. This way, if I know anything, you'll be the first to know. After me. There's no garantee, but... That's the best I can do."

A few minutes later, our paths parted. I had Cheese Sandwich's number and he had mine as well. It was a bit skylight, but it was one anyway.

Until it turned out not to be enough. Until too much emptiness washed the shore and drown me.

Author's Note:

It seems to have many characters with very small roles, but you'll see, everything will soon get back into place!

A part of next chapter will be a little, well... depressing. I hope you won't think Dashie to be too much out of character (and I hope that too for the story in general).

Comments

[Midday Giggle]

Oh, Cheese!!! I love Cheese Sandwich! He's one of my favorite male characters! I wonder what his role will be on the story...

So excited, Ni! Can't wait for more! Keep up the great job!

[CartoonNerd12]

Great addition of having Cheese in here. Does this mean we'll see some CheesePie soon? The worst case scenario I can see happening is that Soarin finds out that Dash and Cheese on in contact and will think his girlfriend is cheating. I know this story is mostly Dash's POV but it would be awesome to have Soarin's POV for once in a chapter to see how he's faring during all this. Another good chapter on your part and hopefully the weekly updates still keep happening. See you next time!

[Aether Spark]

Another good chapter!