Trees drifted by the window, the train rocking gently from side to side with a methodical click, clack—click, clack—click, clack.
The colt in Velvet's lap wriggled as he stirred from his slumber. His mouth opened in a wide yawn before he smacked his lips and stretched his wings.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Velvet said softly, one hoof stroking his two-toned mint green mane. The color clenched her heart in a tight, painful grip and she forced a smile. "We're almost there."
Velour looked up at her and gave a blissfully ignorant giggle at the mere sound of her voice. "Okay, Mom." He sat up and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "You okay?"
"Yep." The smile grew wider. "Just ready to get off the train and stretch out."
Eyebrow arched, Velour looked out at the nearly empty train car, then shrugged and nestled back into her lap. He loved her, and she loved him, but at that moment the warmth of his naive adoration wasn't enough to melt the cold feeling in her chest.
Velvet returned her gaze to the window. The forest gave way to plains that were marked by skyscrapers along the horizon as Manehattan came into view.
There was no comfort in the sight of it, no excitement or anything resembling the bubbly sensation she usually had when coming back to her hometown. Though the sun coated the world in a happy glow, it was cloudy in her heart.
"When I was your age," Velvet said, not looking away from the view outside, "I was already settled in Canterlot. We'd already moved away from Manehattan. I didn't get to see your great-grandparents very often, but when I lived here, I spent every day with them."
Velour snuggled close against her chest. "Like me and Mama Sunbeam?"
Velvet finally gave a sincere smile, albeit briefly. "Yeah, like you and Mama Sunbeam. It was me and Pappy."
"Great-Grandpa Batter?" Velour's head moved away to tilt to one side. "Not you and Great-Grandma Dough?"
"Nah." Velvet chuckled, the sound rumbling in her chest. "Pappy and me were inseparable. We teased Papa Ridge all the time."
"Okay, that does sound like you, actually." Velour snickered behind a hoof.
Velvet ruffled his mane and lowered her head to boop her nose to his. "Yep." She straightened back up when the train whistled to signal its impending arrival at the station. "Guess we're here."
"Yay!" Velour hopped down from her lap. "I can't wait to see Auntie Sourdough! She always has treats."
Velvet watched her son bound down the aisle to head toward the line that was forming at the door of ponies too impatient to wait for the train to come to a complete stop. That used to be her when she was younger and they'd come back to visit. So excited to see her grandparents and aunts, the family she grew up with but left behind.
Pappy used to always have treats, too.
With a renewed pain in her chest, Velvet slipped off the seat to catch up to Velour. The train slowed and out the window, she saw the familiar station waiting them. Ponies lined the platform and her gaze instinctively, hopefully, regretfully looked for him.
She spotted her grandmother's faded blue mane and cheerful smile, wrinkles lacing her eyes. She didn't have wrinkles when Velvet was a filly.
"Great-Grandma Dough!" Velour squealed as he stumbled through the legs of other ponies, his wings flapping in an attempt to hurry his movement. He jumped off the ground and hugged her around the neck. "We're here!"
Dosey Dough grunted from the impact, but laughed and hugged him in return. "Well, I can see that!" She looked up to see Velvet stepping down onto the platform and her smile softened. "Hi, sweetie."
"Hi, Grammy." Velvet walked over, but kept a safe distance. She didn't want to be hugged. She felt like a croquembouche about to topple over at any moment.
Dosey and Velour let go of one another and the three of them started walking. Velour pranced on the tips of his hooves, wings flitting to keep him aloft on the tension that hung thick in the air.
"How's Pappy?" Velvet asked around the lump in her throat.
"Good," Dosey said. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but for Velour's sake, neither acknowledged that aloud.
The awkward silence that followed was filled by Velour babbling to Dosey about his friends at school. She was grateful for that—he didn't have any of the troubles she'd had as a filly. No bullying, no having his backpack stolen, no having his lunch thrown on the floor. Instead, he was one of the most popular colts in his class.
It wasn't long before they arrived at Born and Bread in Manehattan. Dosey and Velour went right inside, but Velvet lingered at the doorstep.
Bitter Batter used to greet her at the train station, and when he couldn't, he'd be waiting at the shop with some fresh-baked goodies and a wry grin on his face.
The sun beat down on her back, as if bragging about what a beautiful day it was providing. Her hooves scuffed the pavement as she forced herself inside.
Aunt Cad Berry was working behind the counter, already fawning over Velour who had jumped up there as if he owned the place.
"Look at how big he's gotten!" Cady squealed. "Velvet, he's going to grow up bigger than you!"
Velvet snickered. "Like that's hard to do."
Velour sat with his chest puffed out, his feathers ruffling with pleasure at the praise Cady showered him with. "I'm Mom's big boy!"
"That's right," Velvet said absently, her gaze drifting to the stairs that led to the living space above the bakery as Dosey disappeared up them. "Pappy upstairs?"
Cady's smile faded and she nodded. "In his chair, like always."
Velvet sucked in a breath. Like always? But 'always' was a fleeting concept. Someday, that chair would be empty. "Come on, honey," she said, giving Velour's tail a playful tug. "Let's go see Pappy."
"Okay!" Velour hopped off the counter and glided to the floor. He loved flying almost as much as he loved his mother. How long would it be before that scale tipped the other way?
Velvet quickly shook her head and followed Velour as he bounded up the steps. She needed to focus on the here and now. It might be all she had.
"Great-Grandpa!" Velour squealed as he rounded the recliner that faced away from the stairs where Velvet lingered.
There was a pause before a voice as rough as gravel asked, "Who are you?"
Velour stopped. His ears folded back and he glanced at Velvet for an answer she couldn't give, then looked back up at the pony sitting in the recliner. "Grandpa, it's me, Velour."
"Velour," Bitter repeated as if he had never heard the word before. "Right, yes. Of course. Nice to see you again."
Finally, Velvet found the nerve to walk forward and cross the threshold from behind to in front of and she saw him. Her grandfather sat in his seat with a cup of coffee in one hoof. No steam rose from the dark brown, almost black liquid, and yet it hardly seemed touched.
His clouded eyes met hers. "And you are?"
Velvet opened her mouth, but she couldn't respond.
There was no recognition in the way he looked at her.
"I'm—" she gasped out, her lower lip trembling. "I'm Velvet, Pappy. Your granddaughter. Remember?"
Velour, at that moment, knew. He didn't understand, of course, but he knew that something was wrong. He gave a small whimper as he stood close to Velvet, nuzzling against her leg and shoulder.
He snorted and set his cup on the table beside his seat. "Of course. I can't forget my own granddaughter. What brings you by?"
"We just wanted to see how you were doing, Pappy." Velvet's chest hurt; it was a struggle to breathe, much less keep her voice from hitching. "How's your coffee?"
Bitter waved a hoof in the cup's general direction. "Black as the day I was born."
Velour nuzzled closer when a soft sound escaped her. She sobbed. It was short and brief, but she couldn't keep the swelling feelings within. "You're grey, Pappy."
There was a glimmer in his eyes and he chuckled, but he didn't respond.
Dosey came around the corner with a small tray of cookies. "Here you are, Velour, sweetie."
Velour didn't move from Velvet's side.
"Dosey, why didn't you tell me I had another granddaughter?" Bitter looked at Dosey with his brow furrowed, but a grin on his greying muzzle. "Velvet will get jealous."
Before Dosey could try to respond, Velvet interjected, "I'm sure she doesn't mind sharing, Pappy."
Bitter's grin fell into a frown. "You don't know my granddaughter, then."
"I guess not," was all Velvet could say in reply.
Dosey remained where she was with the tray balanced on one hoof, as if she were afraid to approach. Her soft eyes were locked on Velvet. "Dear," she finally said, "could you help me? I don't think Velour's very hungry, so I might as well put these away."
"Sure," Velvet mumbled. "Be right back, Pappy."
He grunted and picked his coffee back up.
As Velvet followed Dosey into the kitchen, Velour remained practically glued to her side. When they stopped, Velvet shifted her foreleg to pull Velour in closer for an awkward hug.
Dosey sighed as she set the tray down on the counter and said in a low and quiet voice, "The doctor says this just happens to some ponies his age. His body's fine, but his mind..." She trailed, tears pooling in her eyes. "It just up and wanders off sometimes."
"It's okay." Velvet swallowed. "I knew. Mom explained. I just want Velour to remember him like I do, you know?" Her ears drooped and a tremble filled her voice. "But now he's just going to remember Pappy forgot him."
Velour nuzzled against her. "No, it's okay, Mom! Don't cry. Great-Grandpa's just sick, right? He'll get better!"
She had to be brave for her son. She couldn't do it for herself, but for Velour, she could do anything. Patting his side, she smiled and said, "I hope so, buddy."
Dosey looked at Velvet with a sympathy of unfathomable depths. It almost made it harder to bear, so Velvet rolled her shoulders in a shrug as she angled herself away.
"Hey, Pappy," she called as she walked back into the living room, "do you want to go feed the ducks?"
Over the top of the recliner, she saw a pair of bristled ears perk. "Ducks?" The cup clinked against the table. "Sure. We've got some stale bread from yesterday." As he rose, he added with a chuckle, "My granddaughter, Velvet, used to love feeding the ducks. Not sure why. She never was much into animals."
Velvet's trembling started to return. "I'm sure she just enjoyed spending time with you."
"She could have done that without dragging me all the way to the park," he muttered, then called, "Dosey, get me—"
"Here you are," Dosey interrupted, appearing around the corner with a bag of bread slices. "Have fun, you three."
Bitter blinked at her, at the bag, then nodded. "Yep." Walking past Velvet without a passing glance, he started down the stairs.
Velvet balanced the bag on her back and looked down at Velour with a smile. "Ready?"
With a wisdom beyond what he should have at his age, Velour replied with a question of his own: "Are you, Mom?"
That gave her a moment of pause, even though she knew the answer before he even asked. She just planted a kiss on his forehead before trotting down the stairs after Bitter.
Bitter was already out the door and making his way along the sidewalk. Velvet quickened her pace with Velour at her side to catch up to him, wincing when he didn't acknowledge them.
"So, um, Pappy?"
Bitter paused to glance at her. He seemed to recognize her—or, at least whoever he thought she was—and arched one brow for her to continue.
"Velvet. Your granddaughter." She offered a half-smile. "What's she like?"
A smile spread across Bitter's lips, sincere and warm. That warmth spread to comfort the pain in Velvet's chest. "She's a good filly. She should be around here somewhere." The smile started to fade. "I'm not sure where she is, frankly. I feel like her parents mentioned she was having trouble at school."
Velour whimpered, drawing Bitter's attention to him.
"Who's this?" Bitter brought his gaze back ahead. "Your colt?"
"Yeah, my colt." Velvet swallowed. "Your great-grandson."
This only earned a small grunt of acknowledgement. He didn't remember, but he was too proud to admit it. He just kept walking, down the sidewalk, on and on—past the park's entrance.
Velvet stopped and cleared her throat. "Pappy?"
He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. "What?"
"We were gonna feed the ducks," Velour mumbled, his ears flat against his mint-green mane. The same color as the streak that used to run through Bitter's now-grey mane.
He looked down at Velour and his lips lifted into a crooked grin. "You enjoy feeding the ducks, son? We can do that. Sure. Just need some bread. I'll go to my bakery and—"
Velvet tried not to sigh, instead turning toward the entrance to show the bag on her back. "Got the bread covered."
Bitter followed alongside them. The lake was in view, and the quacking of ducks was in the air. Surely he could remember just a little bit longer. He just needed to make it to the bench, the one they always sat at when she was little, and once they started feeding the ducks, surely he'd not forget halfway through.
As they approached the bench Velvet had her gaze locked on, Bitter quickened his pace. "That one," he said, nodding his head toward it. "That's a good bench for feeding ducks."
The small moment of frustration passed and Velvet found herself smiling. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yep." He sat down with a small grunt and leaned back, cloudy gaze looking out across the blue water. "Good bench. Used to sit here for hours with my granddaughter and feed the ducks."
"We know," Velour muttered as he jumped up to sit in the middle of the bench, his ears drooping so low they might as well have been part of his mane. "This is Velvet, your granddaughter. I'm your great-grandson."
"Velour!" Velvet started to scold, but Bitter interrupted.
"Velvet?" He stared at her. She froze, waiting—hoping—for recognition. True recognition of who she was, not who he thought she was. "Of course. Right. Come on, let's get to feeding these ducks."
Brown, white, and yellow ducks had already taken notice of them and were swimming toward the shoreline, some using their wings to move faster. Velvet set the bag on the bench before taking a seat herself, snickering at the sight of the ducks. They reminded her of Velour trying to hurry his way off the train when they arrived.
Velour sighed and nestled against her side. "Sorry, Mom," he whispered. "I just don't like seeing you make that face 'cause Great-Grandpa's sick."
"I know." She stroked his mane with one hoof, smiling. "It's okay. Let's just feed the ducks, okay?"
Velour's wings gave an excited flutter. "Okay!" He stuck a hoof into the bag, pulled out a slice of bread, and tore it into a few pieces before tossing it all into the lake. The ducks shoved one another out of the way, prompting laughter from the both of them.
Bitter just sat there, staring out at nothing with a vacant expression. Velvet's laughter died down until she fell completely silent. She just watched Velour in hopes of living vicariously through his joy as he tossed more bread at the overeager ducks.
Finally, Bitter broke the silence between them. "Do you remember when you were little?"
Velvet's ears perked.
"We'd sit here, just you and me. Sun falling down the horizon. Nopony around. Just you and me."
"Yeah?" Velvet managed in a raspy, almost frightened voice as she looked at him to see him still staring straight ahead. "I remember."
Bitter, briefly, smiled. "Good times. You were so happy then."
Velvet quickly rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hoof and did her best to smile. "I was always happy with you, Pappy."
Bitter only nodded. He raised one foreleg and draped it over her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug, but otherwise saying nothing. Velvet breathed in the scent of bitter coffee and sweet batter; two scents that didn't belong together but were nostalgic perfection.
His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke up again. "Do you remember when you were little?"
Velvet's ears folded back.
"We'd sit here, just you and me."
Her heart sunk into her stomach, leaving a painful void in its place.
"Sun falling down the horizon. Nopony around."
The tears she had been fighting back fell down her cheeks, slowly at first, then all at once, two streams with hardly no end and no beginning to either of them.
"Just you and me."
It was a struggle, but Velvet managed to find her voice. "Yeah." Her shoulders trembled and she smiled up at him. He still wasn't looking at her. "I remember."
The smile flashed across his muzzle, brief and then gone, as fleeting as his memory. "Good times. You were happy then."
Velvet turned her head to look down at Velour, who had found such joy in feeding the ducks that he didn't notice her falling apart, so she buried her face against her grandfather's side to smother the sound of her choking sob.
"I remember, Pappy," she whispered.
He either didn't hear her, or didn't recognize the stranger crying against him well enough to acknowledge her words.
