On the Horizon

by mushroompone

Chapter Ten: Cuz

Okay.

You can say it.

You can all say it.

I’m a massive fucking moron, and I just won myself an interview at Applejack’s.

The truly sad thing is that I had actually been looking forward to it. I had imagined being a waitress--the kind that tucks a pen behind her ear--and speaking in antiquated, diner-style descriptors. It was going to be fun.

I genuinely didn’t realize until I was standing in front of it. To my own credit, neither did Vinyl or Lyra, both of whom were standing beside me and staring up at the place with the same dumb-founded, open-mouthed gaze.

Lyra sighed. “I feel like… Maybe I don’t know places as well as I think I do.”

“Huh?” Vinyl leaned around me to look at Lyra. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Like addresses!” Lyra replied, exasperated. She waved a hoof at the iron numbers bolted to the door frame. “I thought I knew where we were! I thought I’d recognize the address if I saw it!”

I whistled one long, descending tone. “Me too.”

“Like, actively?” Vinyl peered around me to look at Lyra. “You actually thought to yourself ‘I bet I know the street address of Applejack’s diner’? Why?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Not actually. I just…” She scratched the back of her head with one hoof. “Twi, back me up, here.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow in my direction.

I wanted to lie, to tease Lyra right along with Vinyl. Mostly because that was what we did (and not always to Lyra), but partly because it felt silly to admit out loud how monumentally important Applejack felt. I barely knew her, beyond her hatred of me, and yet I felt so drawn to her. And not even in the normal, crush-y kind of way.

It was a necessary kind of way. Like the world itself would crumble apart if I wasn’t near her.

Which was stpuid, of course. But, at the same time, all-consuming.

“Y-yeah,” I agreed, hesitantly. I held up the paper with the scribbled address, reading it over. “I dunno, I would’ve thought I’d recognize the address.”

Vinyl scoffed.

“Hey, wait!” I looked down at Vinyl with a nasty glare. “You looked at it, too! How come you didn’t recognize it, huh?”

“Hey, yeah!” Lyra agreed, stomping her hoof on the pavement.

“I never said I would!” Vinyl held up a defensive hoof. “All I said was that I dunno why you two thought you’d recognize it-- I wouldn’t recognize your guys’ Canterlot addresses if my life depended on it!”

Lyra frowned. “You wouldn’t?”

“Lyra,” Vinyl said condescendingly, “what’s my home address?”

“Pft, that’s easy, it’s--” She stopped herself, then started tapping her mouth with one hoof. “Um… two--”

Vinyl feigned a buzzer sound, like in trivia. “Nope!”

“Guys!” I stuck a leg out to separate the two of them. “Focus!”

Lyra settled back with a little whine. Vinyl looked up at me with her trademark gaze of half-lidded boredom.

I groaned, crumpled up the paper, and chucked it over my shoulder. “What am I gonna do?”

Vinyl laughed once. “Uh, how is that even a question? Go in there and talk to her.”

“No way!” Lyra argued. “Applejack has no idea her cousin sent you over. Let’s just leave it and go back to the wanted ads.”

“That could take weeks!” Vinyl argued.

“We’ve been doing good so far!”

“We’ve been lucky!”

I looked down at the pavement.

Vinyl and Lyra continued to bicker, as they often did. I always saw it as a sort of love, y’know? Like they wanted to make sure I was safe and okay, and they’d argue ‘til the cows came home about the right choice. It was sweet, at its heart.

It was sweet, too, that they thought of us as a ‘we’. Warmed my heart a little, y’know?

I smiled a little.

Suddenly, feeling quite strong and bold, I looked back up at the building which loomed before us.

My smile faded in an instant.

I didn’t want to talk to her again. She didn’t like me, and I didn’t really like her.

And yet…

It was kind of like skydiving. Although, I’ve never been skydiving, so I guess I wouldn’t know.

I do watch scary movies though. And I feel like the choice to jump out of the airship is a lot like the choice to open your eyes during the scary bits; you know it’s gonna be terrifying, and you even have a hunch it’ll hurt, and you know you’ll probably hate it with everything you’ve got.

But you wanna do it anyway.

It was even more complicated than that, of course. The almost magnetic pull of Applejack herself, the hurried bickering of my best friends, the terror in my stomach, the emptiness of my head… a million factors, swirling into a great mass of confusion and angst.

Sometimes you just have to open your eyes.

I don’t really know why I watch horror movies. I don’t know why I like to be scared. I don’t know why ponies jump out of airships, either.

And I don’t know why I opened the door to Applejack’s diner.

I could sense Vinyl and Lyra hot on my heels, yet didn’t slow down a bit.

Applejack was there behind the counter, as usual. The bell tinkled above my head, as usual. She was wiping down the glass with a rag, clearly happy to have a moment without somepony at the register pointing at things in the display case.

She looked frigid. Focused. Almost angry, I guess.

‘Almost’ tipped right over into ‘very’ when she looked up and saw me.

“For fuck’s sake!” She threw down her rag loud enough to make a sound. “What’s a pony have to do to get rid of you, huh?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Nice to see you too, Applejack…”

She pointed at me with a palpable aggression. “If you ain’t outta here in ten seconds, I’ll--”

“I didn’t do anything!” I shouted back at her.

Applejack seemed taken aback. In fact, I think it was the first time I’d seen genuine shock like that in her eyes. She actually put her hoof to her chest, like an old, Southern granny upon hearing something she found absolutely scandalous.

She did not make a move to say a thing.

“I-I seriously didn’t!” I continued. I had to fill the silence, I guess. “I… I threw up, but you can’t blame me for that!”

Applejack closed her eyes a moment, and opened them to an entirely new expression; something I’ll call sarcastic agreement. The visual version of ‘oh, really?’

I sucked in a small breath. “Okay, fine, I broke your toilet,” I muttered. “A-and I can pay for that now… by the way.”

She did it again; a slow blink, a new question. ‘Can you, now?’

“I’ve been doing odd jobs,” I said to the linoleum floors. “To make some bits. To pay you for the damages.”

Her eyebrows tightened the tiniest bit. ‘Odd jobs?’

I let out a massive breath. “I did some work around Cheese’s place, and I helped this-- this fashion designer sew some tags on some purses, and I even… foalsat.”

A chuckle snuck out. ‘You? Foalsitting?’

“Hey!” I clucked my tongue. “I’m actually really good with foals, thank you very much.”

Applejack blinked again. Long and slow. She had this way of looking at you that so totally embodied frustration--or suspicion, maybe. Quite possibly both--that talking only would’ve cheapened the experience. Whatever she had to say, however scathing (and it would have been scathing), nothing could feel more like daggers than the way she stared.

I could only hold with that look for so long. After a long moment, I broke, and looked back down at the floor.

Applejack let the silence hold a little longer. Just to torment me.

“Toilet was forty bits,” she said, lifting her rag from the floor. “You can leave it on the counter.”

Oh.

That’s… it?

I wasn’t actually planning on paying for the toilet. It was one of those things you’re supposed to offer, but the other party was supposed to turn down, y’know?

At least… I thought that’s how that worked.

Maybe not when you actively break something.

Maybe not with Applejack.

I cleared my throat. “Y’know, I think you’d know the pony I foalsat for.”

“Would I?” Applejack seemed more interested in wiping down her counters than talking to me.

“Mm-hm.” I nodded. “Babs Seed. A-and her older sister, Sunflower, hired me.”

Applejack shrugged. “Sure. They’re my cousins.”

That was the most flabbergasting thing she’d said so far.

I mean, if Sunflower’s tales were to be believed, these two had bad blood. Terrible, rancid blood. And the family kind; that doesn’t just go away. And I’d talked to her. This money--the hypothetical toilet money--was technically Sunflower’s money.

Blood money.

Is that what that means?

I would’ve lied.

“Uh… yeah,” I said. “Sunflower recommended I come here for work. Isn’t that… funny?”

Applejack actually threw her head back and laughed, loud and short. “Ha! Yeah, sure. That is funny: Sunflower recommending me. That mare hates my guts.” She paused, then looked me up and down. “Actually…”

She went silent. Just looking at me, a smirk slowly growing on her cheek.

My brows furrowed. I wanted to cover myself, but I couldn’t figure what was distracting Applejack.

I cleared my throat pointedly. “Actually?!”

Applejack chuckled heartily. “I mean, she met you, right?” She shook her head. “Sunflower knows how much I hate rich, big-city ponies like you. I’d bet my week’s profits she sent you here specifically to get me back.”

“I am not rich!” I exclaimed, stamping one hoof on the floor. “I’m foalsitting for spare bits!”

“You were rich, though,” Applejack said. Her face was suddenly stony. “You were comfortable, and you gave it up for some-- I dunno, adventure or somethin’. Stupid. Reckless.”

“I--”

Applejack held up a hoof. “Don’t matter.”

I was amazed how well that move worked. And basically every time. You’d think I’d be able to resist it.

“Look, point is my cousin’s a shrewd filly, and she was playin’ a joke on me,” Applejack said, as if she hadn’t just torn me down to studs. “She got lucky.”

I pricked an ear. “Lucky?”

“Bet she didn’t think it’d be this good of a joke.”

I ground my teeth.

Applejack flashed me the fakest smile I have ever seen. Ever. “You can git along, now.”

‘Git along now’?

“Your friends’re waiting for you,” Applejack said, nodding out front. “Go on, now.”

To her credit, Applejack had done an excellent job making me feel like the youngest, dumbest, and least-important pony in the world. A pawn in her disparate family drama. A sad excuse for a rebel. A loser, basically.

Whether she did it on purpose or not, I applaud her. Good show, AJ.

But I didn’t budge.

Applejack whipped the rag over her shoulder like a bartender and looked at me. She seemed surprised I was still there.

I straightened up, holding my head high.

“Am I not speakin’ Ponish?” Applejack asked. “Our little transaction here is terminated. Get outta here.”

I shook my head.

Applejack set her jaw. “Pardon?”

I smiled brightly. “You need help,” I said.

“I need--”

“You heard me,” I interjected. Damn, it did make you feel powerful. “You need help. Sunflower told me.”

“Sunflower’s a dirty liar.”

“Not this time!” I said, raising a hoof to punctuate my point. “I’ve been standing here for-- what, three minutes?”

Applejack crossed one foreleg over the other. “Feels about three years longer.”

“It’s the lunch rush,” I continued. “I haven’t seen one customer, chef, or waitress the whole time I’ve been here.”

Ah. that got her.

Applejack swallowed, but didn’t say anything. “Th-there’s, uh… staff in the back.”

Was her brow sweating already?

I frowned. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Applejack made a sound akin to a growl. “It’s a slow day,” she said, firm and low. “Quit stickin’ your snout where it don’t belong.”

“Slow day?” I repeated. “Or slow week?”

Risky. Risky, but more than worth it.

If I was right, of course.

Applejack stared at me. The strength of her gaze was only made harsher by the squareness of her jaw, and the heavy lines of her eyebrows drawing together. I could practically hear the spaghetti Western theme playing over the diner’s speakers.

She was a tough opponent, I’ll admit. But she was nothing compared to me-- when I know I’m right, that is.

“I would rather scrape by through a slow year than hire you,” Applejack said, unblinking.

“Oh?” I cocked my head. “You really want to risk it?”

“Yep.”

Huh.

Okay, maybe Applejack’s stubbornness was a match for mine.

I blinked. “Y-you do?”

“Yep.” Applejack nodded.

Hm.

She was a game-player, alright.

Gonna let me think I’m unwanted, wait for me to beg, then scoop me up like I’m some charity case.

But she needed me.

“Okay,” I said with a shrug.

Applejack’s expression changed in an instant.

“Your loss, I guess.” I turned towards the door, swishing my tail in what I hoped was a casual and sassy arc. It may have just been stupid. “I’ll get out of your mane.”

Applejack watched me go, even taking a step towards me as I made my way towards the door. I made it all the way to the door, hoof on the handle, and paused minutely.

Just as I thought she was going to let me leave, she made a small sound.

Those trashy courtroom dramas were starting to pay off.

“Uh-- out of curiosity,” Applejack asked, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain, “what exactly would I be missing out on?”

I kept my smirk down and turned to face Applejack. “Well… I won’t ask for much. Just some food.”

“You want me to hire you ‘cause you’re cheap?” Applejack asked, utterly unamused.

“N-not just that!” I took a moment, swallowed the frantic-ness. “I’m a hard worker, but I won’t be mad when you fire me for somepony better.”

“Uh-huh.” Applejack sucked on her teeth. “And?”

I blinked. “And?”

Applejack’s eyebrows crept up a little higher.

“Uh, and!” It was hard not to feel frantic. What was this, a game show? “Um…”

Think, Twilight, think!

My gaze careened across the room, searching for hints to more specific tasks I might be able to manage. Cooking was a no. Cleaning a given. Manning the register?

Then, like a miracle, I saw it through the window.

“Van!” I blurted.

Applejack smacked her lips. “Care to elaborate?”

I pointed out the window, trying to frame a thought. “I-I have a van!”

Well. Valiant effort.

“Yeah, and?” Applejack prompted me. She was sounding more impatient by the second.

"A-and it drives and everything!" I spat back.

Applejack's eyebrow rose in a graceful curve.

I snorted forcefully. "I can make runs for you, get you coffee--"

"We got coffee."

"Whatever you don't have, then!" I flicked my tail in annoyance. "And deliveries! I can make deliveries!"

Applejack scoffed. "We don't deliver."

"Well, maybe you could fucking try!"

Oops.

I winced in anticipation of being chucked out on my ass. After a moment or two, with Applejack having made no move to kick me to the curb, I opened one eye barely a sliver to peek at her.

It was weird.

The way she looked at me.

Pride?

No, no. It couldn't be. No way.

And yet…

Well, you had to admit it was strange. Here I was, fighting to work with a pony who seemed to hate me and everything I stood for. And there she was, desperately trying to keep me hanging around in her storefront for as long as she could muster.

It was the sort of situation that made you really wonder about… well, I don't even know, honestly. Life?

Or maybe fate?

Yeah. That was it.

The red string of fate, tying us together.

Two ponies with no destiny but each other.

Could Applejack see it, too?

I cleared my throat. "Well. If you let me work for you, I promise not to do that in front of your customers," I mumbled.

Applejack smirked. "Low bar, doncha think?"

I chuckled. "Maybe."

"Those two gonna be hanging around here, too?" Applejack asked, pointing at Lyra and Vinyl. "If I hire you?"

Lyra hit the deck. Vinyl adjusted her shades.

I forced a smile. "Probably."

"Good," Applejack said. "I like 'em better'n you, anyway."

I furrowed my brows. "Hey!"

Applejack smiled. A blink-and-you-miss-it little flash of joy. "They ain't getting any free food, though."

I nodded.

Applejack sighed deeply. She looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for forgiveness from an unseen spirit, then looked back at me.

I peeked up.

"A week," she said.

"A week?!" I echoed. Even I couldn’t tell if that was more or less than I’d expected.

She held up a hoof. "You're gonna get two meals a day-- breakfast is on you. After a week, I'll reevaluate this whole…" She paused and looked me up and down. "This whole set-up. If you've been doin' good work, I'll consider keeping you on longer."

My eyes went wide. "Really?"

Applejack rolled her eyes. "It's not that I need your help so bad, okay?" She did not look directly at me. "I just feel like I could teach you a thing or two about strikin' out on your own. You clearly need it."

I grimaced. "Thanks. A lot."

"I just wanna be clear: this is one hundred percent, pure pity," she said.

"I got it!"

Applejack chuckled. It was a warm and golden sound, like honey.

I hazarded a smile. "Um… when do I start?"

"Now," Applejack said, back in business mode without a hitch.

“Now?”

"Go and get yourself a mane-net and an apron from the back." She whipped the cloth off her shoulder and went back to wiping the countertop.

The countertop was clean. She didn’t have to keep wiping it.

Maybe I was reading into things too much, but the way her eyes went blank as she moved her foreleg in slow, repeating circles… it seemed like the very definition of ‘busying yourself’. I naively decided this had more to do with the restaurant than anything else.

Because Applejack was strong, right?

I was dangling off a cliff, and she had reached out with both hooves to keep me from falling.

Or… well, somepony was dangling off a cliff.

Maybe we both were?

“Twilight.”

I stiffened. “Yep! Apron! Got it!”

I trotted into the back.

Comments

[Thought Prism]

Boy, AJ's stubbornness is just as bad as Twi's anxiety. Let's see if they can pick eachother up.

[BigD]

Can already tell this'll be an interesting relationship.

And why do I get the feeling this is some trick world that Twilight keeps testing the boundaries of?

[Satto Kez]

As good as always.
Hope for more soon.

[PonyofEntropy]

Good story. Added to my read list.