Pancakes and Apple Pie
If you went to a certain diner at a certain time, you might notice a certain girl sitting in one of the booths. But more than likely, you will not unless she is pointed out to you. This girl has no outstanding physical attributes, save for the smattering of freckles upon her face. Her hair is usually tied in a loose ponytail that runs halfway down her back. Her wardrobe seldom varies from a simple knee-length skirt, a flannel blouse, and a white top. Even her choice of meal hardly varies. At any given time of the year, she will order a slice of fresh apple pie and a cup of coffee.
One may ask themselves the following: Why does this girl choose to come here? There are other places that serve apple pie and coffee. Better apple pie and coffee.
As it is, this girl has one single reason for visiting this little diner once a week. It is a reason you would not guess based solely on her appearance. And if you entered into conversation with her, she might hesitate to tell you. Being an honest person by nature, she would eventually tell you if you prodded enough. But it would be quite a story, well-worth ordering another cup of coffee and perhaps a slice of that delicious-looking rhubarb pie.
Applejack—that’s the girl’s name—would first tell you to stop calling her “girl” if you made the mistake of doing so. She’s a grown woman, for god’s sake. She’ll be twenty-four years old next year. Once that was out of the way, Applejack would proceed to aquatint you with an engaging tale of another young woman. A young woman with rainbow-colored hair and a fondness for pancakes.
Wait, rainbow-colored hair?! you’d think to yourself.
Maybe you’ve heard of her. If you have, you will wonder what this simple farm girl—again Applejack insists you call her “woman”, not girl--did to earn the attention of such a prominent personality. And furthermore, why a woman like that would spend any amount of time in a simple diner. Well, if you’re willing to shut up and listen, Applejack will tell you.
Applejack had few “joys” in life. That’s not to say that working on the farm wasn’t a “joy” in its own right. Sure, it was repetitive as hell. Out to the fields in the morning, into the house at night sweating but satisfied. Variations were rare and not always welcomed. Applejack was content to be, well, an Apple.
Once a week, Applejack “indulged” herself. For most, indulging means throwing away their hard-earned money on intense partying and a bottomless barrel of alcohol. For Applejack, it meant reluctantly kicking off from work early with the permission of her grandmother and brother. Where did Applejack, the humble farmer, go on these unwanted days off? Anywhere she wanted. Applejack was in love with her work, but she did know how to enjoy herself if she had to. Some reading in the park, a walk in the woods, an hour or two watching people and cars from the window of the coffee shop. It might seem painfully boring to some, but these activities were Applejack’s idea of a perfect day off.
On one such “perfect day off”, Applejack happened to visit that little diner. It was a very old diner. It had been around since Granny Smith was a teenager, but it had been renovated several times.
Applejack took one of the many empty booths. She ordered a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee without looking at the menu. Any place that didn’t serve at least a decent apple pie wasn’t worth it in her opinion. Of course she’d have to judge herself if it was decent.
As she waited for the waitress to return with her order, Applejack turned her gaze to the window. There were quite a few people about. Most of them paid no attention to the tiny diner. Why would they? No reason to pause and observe an insignificant eatery like this when there was a mall nearby filled to bursting with fast food joints. Applejack leaned forward, propping her head up with her hands and sighing.
That’s what Granny would call a metaphor, ain’t it? Applejack thought to herself.
The thought should have made Applejack chuckle, but it instead surprised her. Where had it come from? Applejack did not think about herself very often, and when she did it was never in such a negative way.
The waitress arrived with the pie and coffee. Applejack said the customary “thanks” and smiled, but her mind was miles away. She ignored her food, her brain trying to puzzle out the meaning of that one baffling thought. She didn’t notice the old couple sitting in the next booth get up and leave, the old woman laughing blissfully as she took her husband’s hand. She didn’t notice the bored-looking teenage boy sitting at the counter finally abandon his untouched hamburger. She didn’t hear the bell over the door ring as a woman wearing high-top sneakers entered.
It’s certain that Applejack would have never noticed the woman in high-top sneakers. As strange as this woman looked, Applejack’s brain was in another realm altogether. But the woman in high-top sneakers did something that completely changed that more probable course of events. She actually walked right up to Applejack and spoke to her directly.
“Is this seat taken?” the woman asked.
Applejack looked up and saw some kind of fever dream. The woman was about her height and build, but you’d be shitting yourself if you said they had anything else in common looks-wise. Local fashion consisted of anything that went with stained coveralls or a flannel shirt. That fancy-smancy name brand stuff was for “out-of-towners”.
“You’re welcome to it,” Applejack said politely.
The rainbow-haired woman slid into the seat across from Applejack. When she placed her hands on the table, Appejack noticed that she was wearing red nail polish. She imagined those hands gripping the steering wheel of a sports car, their owner laughing as the wind whipped her hair about. Laughing as she experienced the full glory of the world, one highway at a time.
“Name’s Rainbow Dash,” the woman introduced herself immediately. “Call me RD for short.”
Applejack made some polite reply, her eyes locked on Rainbow Dash’s hands. She was aware of how impolite and strange she was being. But those nails. Applejack had never even owned a bottle of nail polish. But soon enough Applejack snapped back to reality. Being rude? To a newcomer? Granny Smith would have a fit. Applejack immediately tore her eyes away from Rainbow Dash’s hands and gave her a smile.
“New in town, aren’t you?” Applejack said.
Rainbow Dash shrugged.
“College trip,” Rainbow explained.
Ah yes, college. Applejack recalled bringing up the notion with Granny Smith not too long ago.
“College?” Granny Smith had responded, laughing. “What do you need some fancy education for? You just focus on keeping this farm up and running. Why waste time reading books when you could be harvesting apples?”
Applejack was fully capable of resenting Granny Smith for those words. She even could have rebelled. She could have rejected Granny Smith’s ruling with the full force of her adulthood. But Applejack hadn’t and she knew why. She’d spent damn near her whole life harvesting apples. Why stop now?
“Liking the town so far, I trust,” Applejack uttered cheerfully.
The town was an acquired taste. And you had to live there your whole life to acquire it. Casual visitors always complained about the lack of wi-fi, the emphasis on “back-breaking labor” the locals were indifferent to, the overall rustic feel. But Rainbow Dash smiled and nodded at the question.
“It’s different from the city,” Rainbow Dash replied. “Everything here is so...intimate. Once you get away from the mall and the fast food joints, the place is kind of charming.”
Charming? Charming? Applejack was pleasantly astonished. Not even Granny Smith ever called their town “charming”. The word “shithole” had been tossed around by visitors. Most tourists and the like were more inclined to praise the chain restaurants that sold heart attacks for five dollars.
“The city must be mighty big,” Applejack said with a laugh. “Can’t see why you’d prefer this place over all that.”
Applejack didn’t mean anything particular by “all that”. As a young girl, she’d imagined the city as some big noisy place filled with people who were always in a hurry. She’d been to the city exactly once as a child. Applejack knew her impression wasn’t too far from the truth. The city was so alive.
Rainbow Dash stared out the window, her head propped up by one hand. The street was chiefly deserted by now. She could see the many trees, most of them bare-branched at this time of the year. Rainbow Dash sighed contentedly. Views like this were hard to come by in the city. The concrete and blaring lights had smothered Mother Nature long ago.
“You’d think so,” Rainbow said slowly. “But you get tired of it after a while. I’ve always kind of wished I was born in a place like this.”
Applejack couldn’t say she’d ever wished to be born in the city. What would have become of her if she had been? Would she have dyed her hair and driven a sports car? Applejack idly tugged at her blonde braid. She couldn’t imagine it any other color, anymore than she could imagine herself wearing a leather motorcycle jacket.
“I can’t picture it,” Rainbow admitted. “I try to, but I can’t. I already decided who I am and what I’m going to do. If I’d been born in a place like this, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to leave and become a pilot.”
Applejack was suddenly more interested.
“A pilot, huh?” Applejack said with some eagerness. “That sounds exciting!”
Not that Applejack could imagine herself being a pilot. Much like the rainbow hair and the sports car, it seemed like something that would always apply to someone else. Always another person’s adventure, never her own.
Rainbow Dash shrugged as if it was no big deal.
“I’ll need something to do after I retire from being a world famous athlete,” Rainbow Dash pointed out. “I’ll be just like Spitfire or Soarin or...”
At the look of confusion on Applejack’s face, Rainbow Dash had to pause for a long-winded explanation. She was so absorbed in her own words that she didn’t notice her pancakes arriving.
“…...best pilots in the whole country!” Rainbow Dash concluded breathlessly.
Flying is freedom, Applejack thought abruptly.
When Applejack was a child, all she wanted to do was fly. Fly out of her hometown, fly away from her responsibilities. Fly up into the sky, soaring towards the great expanse of opportunity between adventures. How that one childhood visit to the city had changed Applejack.
Rainbow Dash plucked a blueberry from her stack of pancakes. She popped it into her mouth, savoring the pure flavor of the berry. You couldn’t get berries like this back home. Common supermarket fare had nothing on the classics.
“Spitfire always said you have to dream big,” Rainbow Dash went on. “What’s the point of living if you don’t have big plans?”
“Big plans”. Like running an apple farm. Taking care of Granny Smith. Training Apple Bloom to one day take over the farm. Waiting for that fateful last day of work before old age claimed Applejack as it had done to Granny Smith.
“You ain’t wrong about that,” Applejack muttered. “You gotta have big plans.”
Applejack took a sip of her coffee. It was good coffee, albeit she barely tasted it. Applejack was happy this stranger hadn’t asked about her life. Why would she bother? Applejack was just another local, a simple farm girl who’d never fall in love with the bright lights of the city.
Rainbow Dash jabbed her fork at Applejack.
“Yeah you do!” Rainbow agreed seriously. “You see all those pitiful losers out there? Those jokers pretending they’ve got it all together? They’re just dumbasses!”
At the moment there weren’t any “pitiful losers”--or anyone for that matter—on the street.
Rainbow was working herself up. Her eyes were shining with passion.
“I can tell you’re like me!” Rainbow said enthusiastically. “We’re dreamers.”
Applejack, a woman who’d stopped dreaming when she was twelve, looked into the eyes of Rainbow Dash, a woman whose dreams were never going to burn out. Should she be jealous? Yes, but she wasn’t going to be. Hopefully. If Applejack could just finish her coffee and pie and get the hell out of there.
“What are you even doing in this one-horse town?” Rainbow Dash demanded almost accusingly. “Don’t you want to go out there and make your dreams come true?”
Applejack glanced at her untouched slice of pie, then her gaze returned to Rainbow Dash. There was so much raw emotion in Rainbow’s eyes. So much want and will, very little can’t. Applejack knew what story her own eyes told. It was a story that started with can’t, continued with want, and ended with will.
“I had dreams once,” Applejack answered patiently. “I wanted to live in the city. I thought I was too good for a boring old apple farm. But you know what, Ms. Dash?”
Applejack took a long sip of her coffee. She was no longer seeing Rainbow Dash as a fearless adventurer, as a woman with rainbow hair and nothing to prove. She was seeing her as a young woman only one or two years older than her. Still basically a hatchling not entirely well-versed in the intricacies of the world.
“I came back,” Applejack continued, putting emphasis on each word. “That’s the difference between you and me, Ms. Dash. You wouldn’t have come back to this dingy one-horse town. You would have left and never looked back. But I reckon I’m always gonna come back, no matter how far I go.”
Whether that was a curse or a blessing was irrelevant. It was as undeniable a truth as the sky being blue.
“The sky’s not really endless, you know,” Granny Smith had once told Applejack. “It might look like it never ends, but it does. And where the sky ends, a new sky doesn’t begin. Remember that.”
Where one sky ended, another didn’t begin. Applejack had far from reached the end of her sky. She hadn’t had much time to look at the sky, let alone explore it. She was glad. Once the sky ended, Applejack would have been forced to accept that it was just a sky. Just like how when she finally returned from the city, she’d had to accept that the lights were just lights.
Rainbow Dash laughed. She laughed as if Applejack had just told her the best joke in the world, hunched over and practically howling with mirth. She remained in this bizarre position for several minutes, tears at the corners of her eyes. Eventually Rainbow regained control of herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes and regarded Applejack with an enormous grin.
“Maybe I wouldn’t,” Rainbow said. “Maybe I wouldn’t.”
Rainbow speared a chunk of the untouched pie with her fork. She offered it to Applejack.
“Maybe I would, farm girl,” Rainbow said quietly. “Maybe I would.”
Applejack waved the fork away. She grabbed her own fork and finally dug into the pie. It was cold, but otherwise not bad. Nothing compared to what Granny Smith could whip up in the kitchen, but not bad. Better than the coffee.
Rainbow ate the chunk of pie on her fork. She’d never actually tasted apple pie before. She liked it. It was rich and sweet, like the kiss of a mother.
“I like you,” Rainbow told Applejack. “Everyone else in this dumb town stares at me like I’m a circus freak.”
It’s the hair, Applejack thought.
Rainbow stood up, thrusting a hand into her pocket. She withdrew a bright blue wallet and pulled out a handful of bills. She tossed the money on the table, winking at Applejack.
“Never got your name,” Rainbow observed.
Applejack smiled at Rainbow.
“Applejack,” Applejack said. “You can call me AJ.”
Rainbow Dash glanced at the unfinished slice of pie. She laughed, amused by the irony.
“Should have guessed,” Rainbow said with a grin. “Take care, AJ.”
And in an instant, it was over. The rainbow-haired woman was gone. The diner was truly deserted, save for the staff and Applejack herself. The diner was silent and still, as if Rainbow had taken all of its life with her.
Applejack finished her pie and coffee. She paid for the meal and left, waving goodbye to the waitress who’d taken her order. It was darker outside. The afternoon had given way to evening, the friendly streets rapidly consumed by shadows. Applejack walked slowly. She was in no hurry to get home. Granny Smith wouldn’t start worrying until well into the night.
“Used to stay out until midnight and damn near give my ma and pa a heart attack,” Granny Smith had once told Applejack with a chuckle.
Applejack arrived home at around nine o’clock. Granny Smith was in her rocking chair, fast asleep with a ball of yarn in her lap. Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom were playing checkers. Applejack closed the door loudly to let them know she was home, then hurried to her bedroom.
Once in her room, Applejack lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe I wouldn’t, Applejack thought.
Applejack thought about the city. Always busy, always changing, always breathing. Applejack tried to picture herself with a fancy car, a college degree, a life completely detached from this one-horse town. She could imagine it. If she closed her eyes, Applejack could almost fool herself into thinking it was real. But a life like that had never been real to her, had it? The farm was real. Applejack’s family was real. But that glamorous city life with fast cars and late-night partying was not.
Maybe I would, Applejack thought.
And maybe Rainbow Dash would visit that diner again. Maybe she’d sit across from a certain farm girl again. Maybe they’d talk about their lives. Maybe that’s what Applejack wanted.
Maybe that’s what I need, Applejack thought.
It wasn't about going or staying. It was about coming back.