The First of Many Evenings
“Thank you, Nagatha.”
The words came out as a hard sigh, like Celestia had been holding her breath. In a way, she had. The toil of a principal was never easy, but these last few months were the hardest of her career. Obnoxious parents and fights with the board had escalated to a point where the mayor and media were involved. It wasn’t the worst time to be put under a microscope (that would be the magical disasters of last year), but now caught up in the myriad controversies was the escalating prank war with Crystal Prep requiring its own meetings, reports, and negotiations.
Which had, for once, not taken her own time to fix.
“Not a problem, Miss Celestia.” Nagatha Harshwhinny’s low voice came from her seat across from Celestia’s desk. “The perpetrators on both sides were identified, and I coordinated the punishments with Principal Cadence to ensure they were fair for all. Hopefully that is the end of it.”
“Cinch used to just blame everything on us.” Celestia gave a wan smile, mindfully remembering it wasn’t all bad these days.
“You always dealt with her yourself,” Harshwhinny noted.
“I could handle her.”
“You let her walk all over you.”
A touch of disapproval entered the voice, but Celestia’s smile grew. “What good would a fight have done? Her school was darling of the whole city, while we single-handedly drove up the district’s insurance costs. She could have made our lives hell if we got on her petty side.”
Harshwhinny closed her eyes, sipping perfectly at her tea. “Perhaps some constructive criticism would have saved her a fall.”
Celestia giggled, arching one eyebrow at her… friend. Yes, they crossed that bridge a long time ago. Five years in the trenches of public education could turn anyone into comrades, even personalities as different as they. The chummy princi-‘pal’ and the harsh disciplinarian. But it went far beyond such archetypes. Celestia was expressive, Harshwhinny held her opinions close. Celestia’s hair was a wavy mess, Harshwhinny’s was short and combed. A yellow blazer bought in college, and a purple pantsuit which was replaced every year.
Harshwhinny finished her sip. “Was that amusing, Miss Celestia?”
“A bit,” Celestia admitted. Harshwhinny used to intimidate her, but those days were over. “You really think Cinch would have listened to any criticism?”
“No. But people surprise you sometimes, that’s why you should always be honest.”
Celestia could have noted Harshwhinny’s ruthless honesty sent on-average two students per year crying to her office, with all sound lessons lost which might have been saved by a little sugar-coating. But this was an old debate of theirs, and Celestia had the sense to know any ‘right’ answer laid somewhere in between.
Harshwhinny lowered her cup, the ice-blue eyes now turned firmly on Celestia and the present. “Any reporters this week?”
“Just two. One played by the rules, the other we caught by the club rooms after school chasing down the Rainbooms. I’m having words with his employers, but somehow they think unsupervised, unauthorized adults pursuing and engaging with students isn’t all that serious.”
“One more thing you’re taking on,” Harshwhinny said. “Let me handle that.”
“I’m the principal, Nagatha. I can’t delegate this to a teacher.”
“Fine. I can start representing us at the board meetings.”
“Given how tense those have been, they’d see it as an insult.”
“What about organizing the school festival?”
“No, I...” Celestia breathed out another sigh, leaning into her chair with a satisfying stretch of the back. “I want to do that. I want this job to be more than politics, discipline, and budgets. It’s a school, for heaven’s sake. Students should know they are the center of it, not be too unimportant for their own principal.”
A small twist which might possibly be a smile came to Harshwhinny’s lips. “Including the ‘Dunk the Principal’ fundraiser?”
“Are you volunteering to tap in?” Celestia teased.
“No,” Harshwhinny said. “I still can’t believe that was your idea. But there must be something I can do for you.”
Celestia beamed at her. “You’re already doing it.”
“And you’re working weekends. Actually...”
Harshwhinny paused and hesitated, blinking away from eye contact for the first time since Celestia could recall. Her face – sharp features possessing the odd combination of blue eyes and tan skin – seemed to grimace as though uncomfortable before settling in the next second to her habitual frown.
“You need an evening off,” Harshwhinny announced primly. Her eyes darted over Celestia. “Your jacket is even more wrinkled than normal. Your eyes are bagged. Your desk is a disaster.”
Celestia gave a guilty glance down to her disordered workstation as Harshwhinny went on. “Come over my house this weekend. There is a nice park on my street I can show you, and after dinner we can play cards or watch a movie. An evening away from it all will do you good.”
Celestia didn’t fully remember saying yes. Nothing like this had ever happened in the last five years, and for Harshwhinny to suggest it so suddenly left her gobsmacked. They were friends, yes, but not ever outside of work. Five years of cookouts and baby showers among the staff, and Harshwhinny never came to a single one. Certainly not for a more… intimate visit, either.
It felt like a leap of faith. Celestia had no idea how Nagatha lived, what kind of hobbies she had outside of school. That night Celestia had a half-remembered dream of arriving to a high-rise apartment filled with action figures.
Just a dream, of course. The address brought her to a small, but tidy house in rural suburbia, old enough for a working fireplace and to neatly rear-end into a state park. No basement and a crawlspace for an attic forced an efficiency Celestia supposed she expected anyway: small kitchen/dining combo, tidy living room by the fire, bedroom. The one spare room was given over to a lone bit of ostentation in the form of a library, with mahogany shelves reaching up to the ceiling and a comfortable chair and lamp for reading.
“This is lovely,” Celestia said. Harshwhinny mumbled something, already retreating down the hall.
Celestia herself made it a point to read the classics. While her own library existed in a tablet, the words were the same, and mercifully gave them something to talk about besides work. They compared experiences with Tennyson, Shaara, and Doyle as Harshwhinny showed her around the little park.
It was the first time Celestia had seen her in casual clothes, or at least what passed for casual from Miss Harshwhinny. Matching purple nylon jacket and pants spoke easily of a habit for cool-weather exercise.
“Do you like jogging?” Celestia asked.
She did, too. Another connection. They compared routes, distances, favorite places to go.
Harshwhinny changed quickly on their return to the house. A bit odd to Celestia, but the woman had her habits. Jogging gear was traded for pressed purple pants, though at least she left off the suit for a white turtleneck and pink shawl around her neck and shoulders.
Dinner proved tasty, although impossible for Celestia to pronounce. An Indian dish of rice, chicken, and vegetables, with lemons and spice for flavor. Not terribly filling, but then Harshwhinny produced a small fresh cake with two glasses of wine. They settled down on her nice couch before the fire, munching and chatting lazily until things fell to silence.
It… should have been comfortable. An idyllic day away from the hustle and bustle, exploring nature before coming home to hot food and a fire. Certainly the best day Celestia had in a while. This was normal and fine, to let the evening drift to a close before returning to her car.
But Harshwhinny did not look fine. She stared into the fire, frowning more deeply than her norm.
Celestia was a lightweight drunk. The wine flushed hot beneath her skin, giving a giddiness only reluctantly sobered by the low mood of her host. She peered nakedly at Harshwhinny, at first seeing not the slightest reason for it. A good day, pleasant company. They got along even better than Celestia expected, so why…?
Kindly to a fault and made a bit impulsive by the wine, Celestia reached to the space in between them and found Harshwhinny’s hand where it rested on the couch. Long pink fingers met firm, tan ones with nub nails and wrapped around them.
Harshwhinny looked over to her, the cold blue eyes wide and a raspberry blush beneath the sharp cheeks. She turned away quickly and pulled back the hand.
“Nagatha...”
“I’m sorry,” Harshwhinny said tightly. Her eyes rose to the ceiling, and her shoulders pulled in a quiet sigh. “This was a mistake.”
“I had a wonderful time,” Celestia tried.
“I’m glad.” Harshwhinny fidgeted, her stony discipline not quite yet returned. “I know we don’t see eye to eye on everything. But you always give it your all. You always have. Fighting tooth and nail with foolish adults who should know better, yet never letting yourself be defined by the fighting. You never let yourself be ground into an indifferent bureaucrat who trots herself out for school functions and spends the days locked behind a secretary.”
She licked her lips for the first time Celestia had ever seen. “You care, Miss Celestia. I remember how you covered for Sunset’s magic mishaps. Who knows where she’d be right now if the government got a hold of her? There isn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for your students. I don’t know if others see what I see or if I’m the only one, but I find you singularly impressive. You are inspiring. I want to help you help them, but also to help you for you. A meal, a walk. It is easy to forget sometimes that rest is a vital part of productivity.”
“Then what makes this a mistake?” Celestia asked.
Harshwhinny looked again to her: almost a pained expression, with eyebrows raised in fear or worry before turning back towards the fire.
Celestia scooched a little closer. She reached over and set her hand atop Harshwhinny’s.
Again, Harshwhinny drew back.
“I suppose I got ahead of myself,” Harshwhinny said, a wooden replica of her stern norm. “You are so wonderful.”
Celestia laughed out loud, tasting the wine on her breath. “So are you! You’re my rock, Nags. Some days I feel like you and Luna do more principal work than I do.”
“Because you are continuously obligated to handle duties which should not be expected of a principal.”
“Okay? So we’re all great.” Celestia scooched in again, bringing their hips together. “Then what’s the problem?”
Harshwhinny shrugged down, hiding her mouth in the shawl. “Must I say it out loud?”
“I’m drunk, not an idiot. Was this a date?”
The blue eyes flashed, their mouth still hidden in pink. “You’ve had one glass… ah, no, of course not. Earlier I… thought it might turn into a date. No longer.”
Celestia could accept that. She could leave. Come Monday, all would be normal. Tonight was the outlier, certainly. Yesterday she didn’t have the slightest inkling Nagatha felt this way about her, or… well, anything at all. Nags was her rock, but that wasn’t always a compliment. Come on, it was Harshwhinny.
...Lovely blue eyes. Chiseled, feminine face. A fair bit shorter than Celestia, but she’d busted more than one student eyeing Nagatha’s… well. Nags kept herself in shape.
Celestia couldn’t say she ever thought to look at her friend like this. But now that she had…
...Why not?
She said that part out loud. Harshwhinny sunk deeper into her shawl. “Because you’re beautiful and I’m too old for you.”
Celestia gave a tipsy hiccup, and placed her socked foot atop Harshwhinny’s. “How old do you think I am?”
She heard a deep breath from within the pink. “Twenty-seven?”
“Try thirty-seven, Nags.”
“Well, how old am I?”
Celestia slowly rubbed her foot up Harshwhinny’s ankle. “Twenty-seven.”
A huff emerged. “I’m forty, you jokester.”
“Hmm...” Celestia made a show of thinking about it, relishing the blush creeping out above the shawl. “Well, we’ve established that we’re both awesome. And you’re not actually much older than me.”
“You act so young,” Harshwhinny mumbled.
“Again, why not?”
“You’re beautiful.” A sigh came from the pink barrier. “No, you’re radiant. Your smile, your hair, your whole aura of effortless love. One day you’ll find someone worthy of you.”
She made to speak on, but froze as Celestia’s soft fingers brushed along her face. They pulled down the shawl to cup the sharp chin.
Celestia set her other hand on a shoulder and pushed, steering her friend into a lying position on the couch. She moved her own legs to keep pace til she was kneeling over Harshwhinny, pressed into the back cushion to make room.
Her pink eyes held the blue, so unlike how she had ever seen them. They trembled with hope and fear, bright diamonds in stoic rock.
Celestia’s fingers crept up to rest against a tan cheek. Nagatha pushed gently into the hand.
Her lips tasted like wine and cake.
“Found you,” Celestia whispered. She laid down, resting atop Nagatha’s compact, stronger frame.
She giggled, tipsily musing on the future. “Let’s hit the beach this summer, Nags.”
“Don’t call me Nags,” came the stern reply. Like everything was back to normal – well, a new normal.
“Of course, Harshie-Poo.”
Nagatha stumbled on her words, clumsily hugging Celestia with hands that had never done anything like this. “You’re… you’re so good. And you put so much on yourself. I want to make your life better. I want to take care of you.”
“You need that too, it seems,” Celestia gently chided. “Let me take care of you, for tonight. What would you like to do?”
Harshwhinny went silent for a moment. The sun was gone, and all they had for light was the fading embers of the fireplace.
“I don’t want to move too fast,” Harshwhinny said. “Honestly, we can talk this all out later. But I would very much appreciate it if you were to spend the night, and allow me to hold you.”
And so they did.
But before then, they had another glass of wine to quietly celebrate this first of many evenings to come.