See What Precipitates
Facets is one of those places that seems immune to change. I hadn’t been in the place in decades, but it still looked like someone had decided to build a bar in a smoking room that had somehow lost its old boys’ club. Same dark wood interior, same gloomy lighting, same thick-built furniture. When I walked up to the bar, I spotted a slight discoloration, relatively fresh varnish over a bit of graffiti I’d scratched into the countertop the last time I was here just to see if it would be waiting for me if I ever returned. A question to the bartender confirmed that he was Sparkling Wine Junior, the previous one’s son.
Once I was satisfied that some people just can’t stand excitement in their lives, I ordered a shotglass of something brown and moved to the booth in the far corner. There she sat, looking into a half-empty glass as though the meaning of life were looking back. Save for the wrinkles and the gray hairs, it could've been a scene from forty years ago. Of course, back then, I wouldn't be going bald, and my jacket would've still had most of the original material.
I put on a winning smile. “Hello, Abacus.”
She looked up and sighed. “Of course.”
Not what I’d expected, but I could run with it. I sat on the opposite side of the booth. “I hadn’t even asked yet, but thank you.”
Abacus rolled her eyes. “Not that. I was just thinking, ’The one good thing that came from all of this was that I was able to avoid Discord.’ Then you appeared, as if by…” She sneered. “By magic. Don't tell me you were involved in that embarassment yesterday.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No, I’ve just always had an incredible sense of timing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Incredible. Yes, that’s certainly one way to put it.” She looked at my glass. “I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t. The universe is far more interesting when sober. This is just a prop so Junior over there doesn’t give the stinkeye.” I grinned. “I’m not even sure what it is. I just picked a bottle at random.”
Abacus glared at me, clearly unamused. “What are you doing here?”
She wasn’t trying to chase me out of the booth. It was already going better than I’d expected. “Because I think you could use some help.”
Abacus scoffed. She'd always been excellent at it. “As though you ever cared about anyone but yourself.”
I felt myself frown at that, the mask slipping. “I really did love you once. I like to think you reciprocated.”
She took a deep breath. Her eyes darted to her glass. She emptied it, then said, “Yes, I think I’m drunk enough for this conversation now.” She looked back at me. “We were both young and foolish, John.” I admit, I got a little thrill from her using my first name for the first time in far too long. “Now we’re both older, and I have learned.”
I smiled, matching her thin smirk. “There’s the woman I married.”
Her smirk wilted into a bitter scowl. “And the one you divorced.”
I sighed. “No, that’s the one I divorced. Important distinction. And really, we divorced one another. It was a mutual act of mercy.”
Abacus leaned back, her arms crossed. “Is this your idea of helping me?”
“No, this is my idea of trying to break the ice. Now we can get to the help. And you really do need it.”
“I need no such thing, especially not from you.” She looked away. Still, she wasn't leaving.
“You’re sulking, Abacus. It’s just like when we were in college. You go to Facets, sit in this booth, stare at the wall behind me, and drink. If someone had been sitting here beforehand, you glared at them until they felt awkward enough to leave.”
She couldn’t meet my eyes. “It was vacant.”
“Lucky for them, then. But whenever you get like this, you’re always totally convinced that you’re doomed until I can show you the possibilities you hadn’t considered." I sighed. "I just hope you’ve found someone else to do that since we broke up.”
Now she could make eye contact, and she threw in her worst scowl yet to boot. “I am doomed, John. Or did you not notice yesterday’s debacle?”
“Well, you know me. I’ve always been allergic to school spirit. I’m just there to teach, not to get involved in Celestia’s daycare regimen. Even when the students started making a habit of violating physics, I couldn’t bring myself to go to something with a name like the Friendship Games.” I gagged.
She smiled in spite of herself. “The name predates us both, though it does come from Canterlot High. Principal Platinum in the forties, if I’m not mistaken.”
Just like her to research the history of a high school-level intermural event. Of course, I didn’t say that. “In any case, it really isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“Isn’t it? Cadence told me what happened after I managed to leave with some dignity intact." Abacus snarled. "That girl is lucky I didn't fire her on the spot, but if I'm going to give the school any hope of a future, I'll need her to take my place."
I frowned. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself. What happened at the Games?"
"They declared the two schools both winners. Putting aside the utter pablum of the statement, Crystal Prep has now gone on record as being the equals of Canterlot High." Abacus threw her hands into the air. "Do you know how disastrous that is?”
“No, but I get the feeling I’m about to find out.”
All of the energy seemed to drain out of Abacus. She rested her elbows on the table and her head in her palms, something I'd never seen her do before. “Crystal Prep is founded on a logical fallacy.”
“I find the best things in life are.” I managed keep the “Apparently, so is your school” to myself.
“We have the best facilities, the best faculty, the best of everything. We can afford them because we also have the highest tuition of any private school in the state, and because we receive incredibly generous donations from alumni." She looked up at me. "Do you see the problem?”
I nodded. “You have the best because you are the best, and you are the best because you have the best. Other than me.”
She let my aside go without comment. “My foolish actions yesterday broke that circular logic. The alumni will be furious. Parents are sure to question why they’re paying so much if their students will benefit just as much from a public school where, if rumors are to be believed, the admissions process consists of walking through the front doors.”
I chuckled. “We do seem to get more than a few extradimensional beings that way.”
“Twilight Sparkle will be far from the last transfer, I’m sure.” Abacus shook her head. “I have lived in fear of this day for my entire tenure as principal. Every day I built up Crystal Prep’s reputation, I knew that it would crush me one day. The school is going to be reduced to a shell of its former self, and I will forever be remembered as the one who let it happen, which is no less than what I deserve. This is all my fault and there's nothing I can do about it. And if you don't stop playing the world's smallest violin, I will not be responsible for my actions!”
I reluctantly separated thumb and forefinger. “Sorry, I thought that needed the proper ambiance. Really, though, when you tell a girl to unleash a fifth fundamental force on an unsuspecting universe, you should expect some blowback.”
She glared at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”
I shrugged. “I need you to want to be helped. I can offer all the advice in the world, but it won’t mean anything if you’ll refuse it because it’s me giving it.”
“Can you blame me? For all I know, you’re here as Celestia’s catspaw, trying to convince me to accept the gospel of friendship and some ludicrous happily-ever-after where the two lovers reconcile.”
I laughed at that, only managing to stop myself after a good ten seconds. I held up a hand and said, “I’m sorry. The very idea!” I shook my head. “No, no, this is reality, magical teenagers notwithstanding. I’m not here to instigate any kind of fairy tale ending, and I'm certainly not here at Celestia’s behest. I’d be surprised if she knew I was even in the city. I’m not here as an ex-husband or a Canterlot High teacher. What I'm trying to be is your friend, because you could really use one right now.”
“Oh. Really?" Abacus dragged out the question so much, it almost sounded slurred. "And how will a friend help save my school from my foolish acts?”
“The same way I always have, by offering a perspective you never considered. Are you willing to listen?”
She rolled her eyes. “If it will get you to leave, then yes.”
I shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to take it. Your problem, Abacus, is that you have never been able to appreciate how a weakness can be a strength.”
“My problem, John, is that Crystal Prep’s reputation is both.”
I held up a finger. “That is a case of a strength being a weakness. That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean turning a worsening situation to your advantage, You tried to do that with Miss Sparkle and her magic, but that was just attempting to use a strength you didn’t understand. Here, your weakness can easily be leveraged in your favor, if you just swallow a little pride.”
Abacus physically recoiled at that, eyes wide and head back. “My pride is all I have left!”
“On the contrary. You have a lot to lose, and therefore you have a lot.” She didn’t seem wowed by this impeccable logic, but I pressed on. “It’s all a matter of spin. Crystal Prep isn’t getting worse, Canterlot High is getting better. The Friendship Games have gone from a quadrennial spanking to a genuine rivalry. This is a good thing! You can talk of the need for additional support, the continuing struggle for dominance. It’s classic Cold War rhetoric!”
"I'll look pathetic," said Abacus. "The alumni only stopped comparing me to Sombra a few years ago, and then only because the ones who still remember him are mostly too senile to complain. I have standards, John, something you never seemed to understand. I expect nothing but the best from myself and my students. No amount of clever phrasing will hide the fact that I failed to deliver our best when it was expected of us. As I said, I deserve what's coming to me. I'm not going to try to dodge it."
I shook my head. "And sitting in here and letting the donors and parents come to their own conclusions is your best? The Abacus Cinch I knew would never give up without a fight."
"She would when she knew there was no point in fighting." Abacus focused on a corner of the table.
I tilted my head. "Is... Is that guilt?"
"Twilight reminds me of myself at that age. Brilliant, focused, driven. Even more so than I was, if I'm honest with myself. She was my star pupil, and I chased her out because I fixated on her, because I had no faith in my other students to succeed. Not against winged mutants and whatever other magical tomfoolery your school had waiting for us." Abacus took a deep breath. "I feel like the woman I've become betrayed the girl I was. I look back on my life, and I start seeing mistakes where once I found pride. All I wanted was to make children live up to their fullest potential, to be the guiding hand at the rudder in the stormy seas of puberty. How did this happen? How did so much time go by so quickly and so poorly?"
"How much," I said slowly, "have you had to drink tonight?"
She laughed at that, a throaty chuckle I'd heard far too infrequently even when we were close. "Enough to have an overdue mid-life crisis, it would seem." She brought her gaze back to me. "You really think that bunch of hogwash will actually work?"
I gave her a warm grin. "It will definitely work better than your current methods."
"I suppose it will." Abacus slid out of the booth. "Thank you, John. This was... surprisingly not unpleasant."
"You aren't unwelcome," I said as I got out myself. "Best of luck."
"You know I've never believed in luck."
"And I've always believed we make our own."
And the two of us left the bar, just happening to walk side by side.