One Golden Day

by Crystal Wishes

All

All at once, Golden realized her mistake.

"What's wrong?" Nightingale's voice asked, full of concern and worry.

Golden pulled away from Forest, her head jerking to the side to look at Nightingale with as much scorn as her tear-streaked face could muster. "I'm fine, thank you."

Nightingale blinked. "But you're crying."

"The stress of the continued wait for Velvet has worn thin on my emotions," Golden said, hurriedly wiping at her face with the back of her hoof. "I'm feeling very volatile and would request to be left alone."

"But—"

"Please," Golden interrupted, more pleading than demanding, but grateful to at least keep her tone even under the weight of not only Nightingale's gaze, but the scrutiny of the entire waiting room.

They all had seen her weakness. How was she supposed to recover from this? Could she?

Nightingale retreated with reluctance, and Golden's ears twitched at every whisper. The sound slithered through the air, coiling around her pounding heart and squeezing it tight.

They would gossip. The story would be exaggerated. She'd worked so hard for so long, and one moment of weakness was going to ruin her.

A hoof touched hers and she recoiled, twisting to face its owner, and scowling when she saw Forest's confused face.

"What are you still doing here?" she spat, tucking her hoof in toward her chest. "What do you want?"

Forest wilted into his seat, ears falling back into his mane. "Huh?"

"I don't understand." She practically threw herself out of her chair and started to pace again. "I don't know why you're here. I don't know what you want."

She felt his gaze follow her. "I, um." He got up, but didn't move to leave. "I don't want anything, really. I'm just here because I thought you wanted me to be."

With a loud clop of her hoof against the tile floor, Golden pivoted to face him. Her mouth opened to let loose words—horrible words, ones she knew she'd regret later.

He looked back at her with genuine confusion on his face. He didn't understand.

And, for once, she closed her mouth before a single sound escaped. She looked away from him and resumed pacing; he took some glimmer of hope and sat back down.

It wasn't that she'd had a sudden revelation. Her heart hadn't grown three sizes. No lightbulb had miraculously flickered on and illuminated some kind of truth.

She was just tired.

Tired of the constant cycle of hurt, anger, loneliness.

Tired of pretending she had mental fortifications that protected her from that cycle, but only succeeded at perpetuating it.

Tired of wanting ponies to hear what she couldn't say, of wanting them to see what she couldn't show.

In the end, she knew that even when she pushed others away, the hurt still remained. Unlike what her mother's voice had been telling her for so many years, it wasn't a matter of whether or not she wanted friends. She always had, she just didn't know how.

So she continued to pace and accepted that Forest—for some unfathomable reason—continued to stay.

Another hour passed and her hooves were starting to ache, so she made a halfhearted attempt to socialize. Conversing with ponies she didn't care about was easy; she did it every day of her life.

"Hello," she said, wincing as soon as she spoke the dull word.

"It's okay, sweetie," the old mare cooed without looking up from the blanket she knitted together. The seat to her right hosted several quadruplets of crochet booties, beanies, and bows.

"We're all worried and nervous," the stallion sitting beside her said, his lap full of yarn.

Leaning forward, a face she had forgotten would be there looked at her with a soft smile. "You can sit here, Golden." High Horse—Horsey patted the empty seat next to her.

It was hard to think of her as Horsey. That was the name she had been given when she broke Golden's heart, abandoned her to instead be friends with Crystal and Velvet.

It was hard to nod, to walk over, to sit beside her. To accept the offer from a mare she had neglected. To try to smile at the friend she had lost.

But Golden was accustomed to things being difficult, so she sat with as much dignity as she always did. She tossed her mane over her shoulder and cleared her throat.

In a light, conversational tone, she asked, "Where is your husband?"

Horsey's ears perked. "Oh, he's with the foals. My oldest—"

"Claire," Golden supplied without thinking. It was proper to remember trivial details and supply them later to endear oneself over how thoughtful one was.

Golden then frowned at herself, at the voice in her head, at the earnest look of surprise on Horsey's face.

Then Horsey melted into a smile, her ears giving a happy little wiggle. "Yes! She's afraid of hospitals, though I don't have the faintest idea why. But when she's afraid of something, Amoureuse is scared, too." She sighed, but the sound was full of warmth and fondness. "So Sav is watching them while I'm here."

Just a little bit, Golden hated Horsey.

She was everything her own mother had never been and would never be: sweet, kind, caring, compassionate. There was a seemingly endless depth to her love.

Deep down, Golden wanted to find where the limit was. She wanted to see what it would take to get Horsey to hate her. She wanted to hear her yell, to prove that Horsey wasn't better than her.

Instead, she smiled as best she could. "I see."

Horsey's head inclined and she leaned forward to look past Golden. "I think I missed introductions. Who's your friend?"

Golden didn't follow her gaze. "He's—" A swell of petty bitterness rose up, and she straightened her posture. "He's a fan of mine. Actually, he bought my day in a charity auction."

The rapid series of blinks in response was thrilling. Was Horsey trying to restrain her jealousy? Would there be a crack in her facade?

"Oh," Horsey breathed out, and something crossed her expression that wasn't jealousy or envy or anything Golden wanted to see.

It was confusion. Concern. Judgment.

"He chose to stay," Golden added a little too quickly. "I offered to refund him, and of his own free will, he's remained here to be with me."

That was right. Somepony wanted to be in Golden's company. She lifted her nose to lengthen her neck, to emphasize the difference in their heights as she looked down at Horsey.

He hadn't left her.

And, then, Horsey's ears started to droop and she slumped back into her seat.

"I wish you could just be happy," Horsey muttered, the earnest sadness in her voice like needles prickling the back of Golden's neck. "Crystal said you'd changed, but..."

After a moment, Golden realized Horsey wasn't going to finish that thought because it wasn't necessary.

Golden hadn't changed at all, had she?

Something twisted and—sad coiled around her heart and she turned her head away, unable to look at Horsey's pitying eyes.

"Crystal lives in a rose-colored world," Golden replied with only halfhearted conviction.

Horsey sat up straight, and her chest puffed out with indignation. “That's not true! She just chooses to see the roses for the thorns, but she knows they're there." Her brow furrowed. "Why would you speak like that about her? I thought you were friends?"

Because Golden didn't have friends. She just had ponies with misguided faith in her.

Something cracked and crumbled, and Golden felt her body sag as if the strings holding her together had been cut. “I'm sorry," she muttered, closing her eyes. "The stress of the wait is wearing me thin."

There was no response. She knew it was a lie, and she knew Horsey knew, too.

Then, to her surprise, Horsey pulled her into a tight hug. An unladylike squawk escaped her at the sudden embrace, her eyes going wide as she stared down at the smaller mare.

"Please just be happy," Horsey said with a hitch in her voice. Was she crying?

Why would Horsey cry? Had Golden offended her that greatly? She hadn't said anything worse than normal. Horsey had always been a little more sensitive than most ponies, but this was ridiculous, even for her.

"It's all I've ever wanted for you." Horsey pulled back and wiped at her eyes; she was definitely crying. "I know our parents messed with our foalhoods, but that's so far behind us, isn't it?"

Golden swallowed, a strange lump in her throat, and turned her head away. "You left yours behind when you moved. I still live under my mother's shadow."

Horsey grabbed one of her hooves and squeezed it. "Then why don't you move?"

"Absurd," she replied without giving the notion more than the barest of thoughts. "This is the only life I've ever known. What would you have me become? A quaint little country mare like you?"

"Of course not!" Horsey's face reddened. Embarrassment? Frustration? Anger? "There are other cities in Equestria! You could move to Las Pegasus."

Golden blinked. "Las Pegasus?"

The city that never slept, full of glitz and glam, magic and mystery. Briefly, Golden envisioned it: a show of her own, a stage that belonged only to her. Her name in lights.

Golden blinked, again. "I—"

"They're here!" somepony squealed, and Golden's gaze snapped to the glass doors, through which she saw a familiar pink-and-mauve figure wobbling their way with a small entourage.

All other thought was shoved aside. She focused all of her swirling emotions—confusion, irritation, disbelief, wonder, exhaustion—into a single channel: indignation.

Golden practically threw herself out of the seat before anypony else could so much as lift a hoof, and she marched right up to the doors to greet Velvet with a snarl that felt so good to wear. It was a mask that hid everything else behind a single note of anger.

"Velvet Step, you better have a phenomenally good reason to explain your well-past-fashionably late arrival to your own labor!"

Velvet nearly tripped over her own hooves in her attempt to escape. And then she did trip, landing on her rump and holding up her forehooves as if to shield herself from Golden's ire.

"Hey, whoa, calm down! I'm here now, right?"

There was something about Velvet that soothed Golden's frayed nerves, that brought out a strange openness that she couldn't hide even with a perfectly placed mask.

She tossed her mane over one shoulder, a gesture that usually gave her confidence, but fondness bled into her voice as she asked, "Do you realize how worried I've been?"

"Worried?" Velvet's hooves lowered to reveal the grin that normally occupied her muzzle. "Aw, Goldypants, you do like—" She dropped her hooves to her stomach and doubled over, straining to finish saying, "—me."

Velvet's mother ran in a panicked circle. "Yes, yes, yes." She nudged Velvet up onto her hooves and glanced around. "We can deal with friends later, for now can we please get my daughter to a room?"

Golden tried to assess Velvet's condition. She was sweating and breathing heavily, pain written all over her face.

A quiet voice asked, "Is this who we've been waiting for?"

What had kept Velvet from coming sooner? She was a stubborn mare, but not without reason. Something had happened.

"Oh my Celestia," Velvet exclaimed. "Golden, is this your stallionfriend?!"

"Who?" Golden asked reflexively, then felt all her muscles go rigid as she glanced down at Forest, who stood just behind her.

What was he still doing there? Why had he come over? Did he want her to introduce him, as though he were a permanent fixture in her life? Was that his plan all along?

The moat within her mind was murky with doubt and suspicion, and she felt its dark depths settle in her chest like a heavy weight.

Celestia's sake, she was such a broken mare.

Velvet was still looking at her, expectantly, eagerly. Golden schooled her expression back into place. "What? No!" She cleared her throat to loosen her vocal chords that had grown tight with emotion. "No, no. This is Forest Shadow. He won my time for a day in a charity auction."

Still standing behind her, Forest gave a meek, "Hi."

"Wait." Velvet was grinning, a wicked thing that showed too much teeth to be proper. She looked past Golden, ignoring her in favor of gracing Forest with her rapt attention. "You bid on a day with Golden, and she's making you spend it in the hospital?"

Golden rolled her eyes. This was all irrelevant. Velvet needed to get herself to the maternity ward. "Oh, don't make me out to be a villain. It's not my fault the days collided. Besides." Her eyes slid back to Forest, and pinned him with a smile that showed just enough teeth under a perfect curve of her lips.

He ducked, as though unworthy. The reaction amused her more than she'd care to admit.

"We've had a lovely time, haven't we?" Her eyes dared him to disagree.

He didn't look at her, didn't see the threat. Instead, he swallowed and replied, "Well, it's been, uh, different than I imagined." Then he looked up and was spellbound without an ounce of magic. Just as she hoped he would, he melted on the spot. "Different is good, though."

"Exactly." She returned her focus to Velvet, where it belonged, and waved a hoof to dismiss the conversation. "Now, run along before you give your mother a heart attack."

Velvet's mother exclaimed with an unrefined squawk, "I think I'm on my third already!" Her hoof grabbed onto one of Velvet's and dragged her away. "Nurse!"

Golden made no move to follow or turn away from the doors. Crystal walked right past her with eyes only for Velvet, worry etched into her soft features. It stung, being ignored, but it was nothing new. Velvet always came first for Crystal. At best, Golden could claim fifth place.

Everypony left to migrate to the maternity ward's waiting room. Golden just stood there, watching their retreating reflections in the glass door; Forest remained at her side, glancing between the crowd and her.

"Shouldn't we follow them?" he asked, and took a tentative step forward as if to show her how.

"No." She swallowed and pushed the door open with her magic. "No, I think not."

Forest made a sound in his throat that was clearly an aborted attempt to argue with her. Instead, he just nodded and followed behind her as she walked out of the hospital.

The sun shone through a light scattering of clouds, and the air was warm and fresh and felt good in her lungs as she breathed it in.

"I don't understand," Forest said, walking alongside her as she continued moving forward, away from the hospital. "Don't you want to be here? With your friend?"

"Not right now." She didn't look at him. She didn't want to see his face; judgment would be waiting for her there. He was too open, too earnest. She both admired it and hated it. "There is still plenty of time before she actually goes into labor."

Forest gave a breathy sort of laugh. "Really? To be honest, I don't know much about this stuff. Or, well, anything except the obvious."

Golden spied a bench overlooking a small garden and angled herself toward it. The scent of lilacs drifted on the breeze before she spotted the purple flowers. Her nose tipped upward in a silent acknowledgement of their presence.

"I hate repeating myself, but why are you still here?" She sat down, patting the spot beside her for him to sit. "Surely there are better ways for you to spend your day."

Forest was quiet as he gave the question careful consideration, then summed up his feelings with a small shrug and sat down. "It just seems like the right thing to do."

Golden pondered all the ways she could make him want to leave, but little seemed to faze him. He kept seeing through her, and she was somehow both grateful for it and hated it.

The silence was almost companionable. She almost felt at ease. Was it possible to feel this way all the time, she wondered?

"I don't," Forest blurted out so suddenly that Golden nearly jumped off the bench. She looked over to see him wringing his hooves and pointedly avoiding her eyes.

She sighed and inclined her head to look up at few strokes of wispy clouds that drifted high above. "Don't, what?"

"I don't have better ways to spend my day. And I don't do this. Pay mares to be with me, like you said. Ever." Forest sucked in a breath. "I've just struggled a lot with dating because I'm so nervous, and mares don't seem to find that cute, so I thought if I went on a date with the most beautiful mare in Equestria, that I'd be less nervous with regular mares."

Golden blinked a few times as the words settled in before she broke into an undignified laugh that surprised even her. "That actually makes perfect sense!"

"In theory, but not in practice!" Forest huffed and scrunched up his nose. "I don't think I'll ever be able to go on a date after this, because I messed this up so much."

"You messed this up? Darling, I'm the one who made a terrible mess of things."

Forest's head jerked to the side and he looked up at her with wide eyes.

Golden waited a moment before frowning. "What did I do now?"

"You called me darling," he squeaked.

After a thoughtful pause, Golden replied slowly and carefully, "Yes. That is what ponies in my social circles call one another. Do they not in yours?"

Forest gave a small, meek shake of his head.

She sighed, raising a hoof and rubbing a tight circle into her temple. "I'm sorry." With a grunt, she slid from the bench and turned to face him. "Go home, Forest. Allow me to make all of this up to you with a do-over tomorrow. May I pick you up at your place in the morning to try again?"

His mouth hung agape as he blinked rapidly. "What?"

"Most ponies would die for me to ask it once." She tried not to smirk. "I won't ask again. I do so hate repeating myself."

A quick shake of his head brought him out of his stupor, and then he nodded just as quickly. "Yes! Of course! I'll try to be less—"

She raised a hoof to press it to his lips. "Don't be less. Be more confident, if you must, but never be less."

Without a word, he just nodded again.

"Good." Her hoof shifted to cup his jaw, angled his head, and she leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on one cheek. "Thank you for today."

Forest's mouth flapped open and closed a few times with unintelligible sounds. Golden just laughed, patted the other cheek, and withdrew to start walking back to the hospital.

"Wha—Wait!"

She halted, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of one eye. "Yes?"

He took a deep breath in and held it. The gears of his mind clicking and grinding were visible in the tight draw of his brow until he breathed out, "I think you're a good pony and I enjoyed getting to know you so thank you for being honest with me instead of just putting on airs all day."

Golden blinked a few times as she processed this. Then, she smiled once his words settled in, beams of light illuminating the moat's dark water.

Perhaps—not in a big, grand way; not in a way that shone brightly in her every action; but in just enough of a way that mattered to somepony—she was good, after all.

Comments

[anonpencil]

This is a sequel I didn't know I needed. SO EXCITE.

[CrystalWaters]

I do hope Golden manages to finds herself.