Mothering, Someday

by Impossible Numbers

Velvet and the Spirit of Love

Derpy was trying to wash up.

It must have been some kind of full-body defence mechanism. Velvet had heard that pegasi were very physical creatures. Especially when agitated, they liked exercising their hooves and wings. Otherwise, they twitched, bird-like, fluttering, and jittery. Given Derpy’s case, the bird was probably a concussed flamingo, but something urged the wings and the blood and the pumping heart to do something.

Regardless, this was a classic Derpy job, all right: the dishes piled up dangerously on one side of the sink, the bubbles ran to the floor, and the draining board had been knocked askew on the other side of what was visible of the sink, so that anything actually put there to dry would dribble over the virgin sideboard.

Golden Harvest took to her post before the oven: chaperone, royal guard, and possible impromptu executioner. Velvet eyed her nervously.

After a few seconds of vague mumbling from the sink, Golden Harvest cleared her throat. Meaningful darting pupils indicated that Velvet jolly well better get on with it.

“I think,” said Golden Harvest pointedly, “our friend Velvet wants to say something to you, Derpy.”

She even spoke like the Vanhoover farmers of yore. Velvet half-expected to stumble in her oversized galoshes again. It was terrible, being a little child in big boots.

It had been terrible, she corrected herself.

As Velvet drew closer to the running water, she heard Derpy frantically mumbling.

“I’m not gonna end up like Mom,” Derpy muttered over and over in some frightened mantra. “I’m not gonna end up like Mom.”

Patience itself, Velvet waited until she mantra’d it out of her system. Once a suitable silence flooded over them, she eased forwards and placed Derpy’s mug – which she’d picked up from the floor in passing – by the washing-up water. Or at least by where she guessed the water was under the avalanche of bubbles.

Derpy made a noise between a sob and a choke.

“I’m gonna end up like Mom,” she whined.

“Of course not,” said Golden Harvest as if it was perfectly obvious.

“There, there,” said Velvet. “I don’t see why you should. I didn’t end up like my mom. Golden Harvest didn’t end up like hers, either.” She turned. “Right?”

“Right,” said Golden Harvest.

“I mean, Ammy didn’t; she’s her own mare. Even Dinky didn’t; she’s her own kind of crazy, ha! And my children certainly didn’t.”

She let the sniffling Derpy wipe her eyes. One of which was beseeching the ceiling.

Golden Harvest coughed. Translated, it meant: Don’t hesitate. Just get it over with.

“I’m sorry I snuck into your room, Derpy,” Velvet said gently. “It’s the imp in me, I guess. I used to give the Vanhoover farmers a merry run-around in my time.”

“It’s all right,” said Derpy wretchedly. She hiccupped.

Velvet cursed her own selfish nosiness. Who exactly did she think she was, back there? Some Canterlot landlady who went wherever she pleased? It was like Amethyst said: she’d acted as if she owned the place.

Her Vanhoover days didn’t help. The earth ponies wandered into each other’s homes as easily as if they were all part of a greater commune. Velvet’s territory had stretched over hills and horizons. But that was no excuse.

“You’re not angry?” said Velvet.

“I don’t get angry,” mumbled Derpy. “I don’t ever get angry.”

That was easy to believe. Anger was as natural to Derpy’s countenance as a crossbow on a dove.

“A mother mustn’t get angry, huh?” said Velvet, trying to sound kind and not remotely smug.

Derpy placed her mug on the sideboard and stared at it as if willing it to refill on its own. Golden Harvest’s next cough had a warning blade in it.

“Sorry,” said Velvet. “That was tactless of me.”

All right, then. Her memory rolled up its sleeves. She remembered the really tough days, the ones when a friend had collapsed into tears because their little one was tearing the house apart, or the ones when Night Light had cried out and torn his mane out wondering why Shining Armor no longer talked to him. The days, in short, when the last pony who could cave in to pressure was Velvet herself, the mother, the constant north star in a dark and scattershot plain.

“Believe me,” she whispered, daring to draw close enough to hug – on the edge of sight, Golden Harvest stirred as if to intervene, but apparently thought better of it – “I know children can be the hardest things to take care of. Second only to taking care of oneself, of course, ha.”

Derpy refused to stop staring at the mug on the sideboard.

“You ever heard the saying, ‘The hoof that rocks the cradle rules the world?’”

Derpy merely twiddled with the mug.

“Well, the hoof that rocks the cradle does rule the world. Their world. You’re everything to them. But I know and you know what that’s like. It’s like you have to be careful how you rock that cradle, and when you choose to rock it, and why. You have to take the job seriously, every second of every day of every year. Because one shake and their whole world could fall out and break.”

Derpy steeled herself but continued saying nothing.

“And you can’t have a day off, and you don’t always know what’s the right way to rock that cradle, and you can’t ask someone else to do it, because the pony you choose is still your responsibility. You can’t put a hoof wrong. That’s how it starts to feel, after a while.”

The mug rattled and came to a stop when Derpy let go.

“So you think: I put hooves wrong all the time, I must be a bad mother. You think: they argue, and arguing is bad, so I really must be a bad mother now. So they mustn’t argue, and I mustn’t put a hoof wrong, and that becomes everything too, and suddenly you don’t hear what your own children are telling you because the voices you’re always hearing are in your head.”

Derpy still refused to speak.

Velvet had to steel herself for what was coming. She confessed, “Not a day went by when I didn’t think I was doing things wrong.”

“Wait.” Derpy’s ear bolted upright; she spun round, her eyes agog. “Even you?”

Velvet bit her lip. She nodded sadly but wisely.

“Every day, it was always ‘Should I be firmer?’ or ‘Should I be kinder?’ or ‘What if I’m saying the wrong thing?’ or ‘What if she starts talking back, what can I do?’ There were too many things I could do wrong, and not many things I could do right. I never figured anything out, after two children. I’m still not sure I did it right.”

“But that’s impossible! You did a wonderful job on both of them!”

Velvet barely smiled.

“Anyway, you’re the most motheringest mother I ever saw! You’re even a great mother to Dinky, and she only met you today!”

Despite herself, Velvet had to ask, “And Amethyst?”

“Oh,” interjected Golden Harvest cheerfully, “no one’s going to judge you if you can’t win over Amethyst in a day. She isn’t easy to win over.”

“But there’ll be a mother more motheringest than me who could, right?”

“No,” said Derpy, frankly.

“You?” suggested Velvet.

Derpy wagged a hoof. “Oh no, I’m not falling for that trick.”

“Yeah? Did you see Amethyst’s face when she caught me sneaking out of your room? I thought I was a goner!”

“Ammy can be a bit… intense, yes.”

Golden Harvest struggled not to laugh. “A bit, she says.”

“And you should’ve heard what Dinky was saying about you,” continued Velvet. “I think the Element of Loyalty has some competition.”

An interesting struggle broke out across Derpy’s face before she roughed it up properly. “I’m still not falling for any tricks, Velvet.”

Velvet. Not Miss Velvet. That was a little closer to comfort.

“Look, just don’t act so much. You’re actually a lot better when you’re just yourself.”

“Aw, but then I can’t do it. I start to think about acting like myself! It’s so confusing.”

Something prodded Velvet’s recollections. “Oh, like the Centipede.”

“The wha –?”

“It’s something Twi– my daughter taught me once. The Centipede can run around on hundreds of legs with no problem, and then the Athlete asks him, ‘Hey, how can you run with all those legs to keep track of?’ and the Centipede gets so self-conscious that he suddenly finds he can’t run properly.”

Derpy gave the stare of a mare who couldn’t keep up no matter what speed her mind reached.

“It’s an old story,” explained Velvet. “You never heard it?”

Beside them, Golden Harvest showed a face that had suddenly shut down. “Centipedes,” was all she could say.

“Uh… huh?”

“Centipedes?”

“It just reminded me of that story, OK?”

“Centipedes?”

Then Derpy bounced back from whatever planet she’d shot off to. “I know something about centipedes.”

Velvet beamed at her. “Yeah?”

“They’ve got a hundred legs.”

Velvet waited patiently for clarification.

“Doc taught me that,” added Derpy proudly.

“Doc?”

“He’s an int-lectual.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Velvet, grin twisting in her grip.

“Ooh, who from?”

Poor memory. Another supposed “Bad Mother” trait. Velvet patted her kindly on the shoulder. “So, I’m guessing you’ve got something planned for later today?”

Derpy nodded eagerly. “For sure! We’re gonna go out and have a picnic in the park, then I’m gonna take Dinky to Sugar Cube Corner for her favourite Enlightened Muffin – One with Everything – then Ammy wants to have a look at Carousel Boutique to see what Rarity’s going to do with those Citrine Six Spectaculars she donated, and then Carrot Top wanted to watch a show by Written Script called The Temptations of Celestia at eight ‘o’ clock…”

Whilst Derpy talked on, Velvet took over and got on with the washing up, letting the effusive speech rinse her ears clean. Not a poor memory. Not at all. Derpy still remembered the important things.

Beside her, Golden Harvest took over the drying duties. There was a nod of approval.

The three of them passed a few happy minutes, listening to Derpy laying out her own grand tour of Ponyville by the sounds of it. Between Amethyst and Dinky, there was every single angle catered for.

And most importantly, Derpy herself was Derpy again. All that “A mother must…” manual nonsense was barely an afterthought of an echo. Derpy’s own enthusiasm simply bulldozed over it.

With her back to Derpy, Velvet shook with silent giggles.

“So Golden Harvest is coming too?” she said once she’d pulled the plug.

“Of course. Poor thing deserves a special day out.”

“Gosh, you think of everything.”

Beside Velvet, Golden Harvest hurriedly turned her face away.

“Well,” said Derpy sheepishly, “Ammy and Dinky did most of the actual organizing. But I helped!”

No one said Derpy was an organizer, thought Velvet cheerfully. All they said was that she helped.

She heard the hooves scuffing the floor outside, and decided to lead on. It was time, by the sounds of it.

As she and Derpy both stepped out of the kitchen side by side, Velvet was not remotely surprised to see Amethyst and Dinky waiting for them.

“Er…” said Derpy.

As one, Amethyst and Dinky made “after you, no after you” gestures and nods at each other. Amethyst grunted impatiently. She lifted something from behind her back.

“I, uh, got this for you, Mom,” she said in all her stiff, uncomfortable professionalism.

At first glance – or utterly confused stare – Velvet saw that it was, for all the world, a chunk of rock. Derpy, however, rose to the air in fresh excitement.

Looking for a clue, Velvet’s face asked Golden Harvest, whose shoulders signalled their utter, shrugging indifference back.

In the end, Velvet went for broke. “That’s not a chunk of rock, is it?”

Out-of-place as a secretary before an eccentric CEO, Amethyst officially cleared her throat and pressed on. “It’s a fifth-class granite matrix containing fresh material: approximately market-grade quartz samples with regular magical oscillation. You can see them here.”

She rotated the prototype for the inspection of the board. Chunks of glass – pulsing with a dim glow every now and then – embedded in a chunk of rock. Velvet wished someone had passed her a memo.

“Oauw, from work!” squealed Derpy.

Another official throat-clearing. “I asked my supervisor, of course. They weren’t willing to write it off as a perk, so I simply purchased it out of my wages.”

Brief outrage blazed before Velvet suddenly realized she was getting offended on behalf of a rock.

“Er,” she said, “that’s very… thoughtful?”

Golden Harvest tapped her on the shoulder. “Look at Ammy’s cutie mark,” she whispered.

Velvet did so. Three gemstones. Then the flank shifted slightly, and Amethyst glared as one might when one finds one’s hindquarters being examined.

“It’s so you!” Derpy clapped happily. “I shall put it on the mantelpiece!”

“If you like,” said Amethyst, summing up her report, “I can extract the quartz for a new timekeeping mechanism, so you won’t be late in the mornings?”

Velvet watched the quartz pulses, mesmeric and mysterious as a deep-sea jellyfish and almost as phantasmic. Solid gemstone, yet beating with a heart.

“Very… practical,” she said.

Behind Dinky’s cape – she clearly didn’t care to change out of her Element Mare costume yet, missing mask notwithstanding – there bounced another gift.

“Ta da,” she said weakly.

Derpy caught it mid-flight and turned to show the others. “Aw, it’s lovely. Dinky’s so talented.”

For a moment, Velvet’s gasp got the better of her. A little model pony, with poked pencil holes for eyes…

Then she sniffed. The scent tripped her by the nose. Apple?

“I was thinking about ponies and physics and stuff,” Dinky bragged, “and how all ponies are made of food, and it gave me an idea. So I went and got a food and I carved it. It’s OK. I know you gotta eat it at some point.”

“Oh, Dinky,” said Derpy with no shame or sense. “How can you ask me to eat this?”

Velvet relaxed enough to pass round her own words. “How creative. I see you got the proportions just right, too.”

“Uh huh. I read some anatomy books once. I took measurements.”

In fact, the more she inspected it, the more Velvet noticed the fineness of the cuts, the little details on the ears and eyes, nostrils and lips and the fine lines of muscle in the neck. Bits were off-centre – symmetry hadn’t matched patience here – but for someone Dinky’s age, there was enough to say art would welcome her to its school.

“I call it…” Dinky paused to give her grin a good run-up. “The Poetic Pomace Material Mare Appropriate Apple Core Carving!”

Despite herself, Velvet whistled. “That’s a lot of long words.”

“Understandable,” said Amethyst. “It was a long dictionary.”

Dinky’s teeth conquered most of her face on behalf of the Grin Empire. “And I used a knife!”

A brief, excited babble rose up around her as she ducked the arrow words.

“What?” she said casually. “I was careful! I read the instructions five times to make sure.”

“Oh, Dinky!” cooed Derpy.

“I did it for you, Mom.”

That was enough: Derpy sobbed and laughed and collapsed on top of them, supported by the strong-spined rock that was Amethyst, whilst squeezed back just as tightly by the bouncing bubble of Dinky. Between them, there was barely room for the squashed gifts.

Golden Harvest chuckled, shaking her head at the fine mess she’d gotten herself into. The chuckle rapidly rushed for cover when Derpy lassoed her in for a group hug, whereupon she ended up pressed against Amethyst’s quartz chunks. Eventually, she stopped fighting the accidental strangling and just accepted the inevitable.

Velvet sat back and her heart feasted on the moment. Suddenly, she wished she could spend all day following these ponies around, break earth pony bread together, and call them – and be called in turn – “kinsfolk”.

At Derpy’s and Dinky’s beckoning, they got a surprised Velvet in the hug too. Once they found each other’s beat, through their chests touching and trusting, she felt Derpy’s heart dance in synchrony with her own.

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Comments

[Malandy]

So sweet!