Nurse Coldheart left the hospital early today, as she did every Friday. Ever since Lefty Loosey-- she insisted her name was Screw Loose, but it was not hospital policy to encourage delusions or self-deprecation by patients --was released from the psych ward, it fell on her to give the mare her weekly checkup. She didn't mind particularly. Generally, it meant she got off work an hour early on Friday. Coldheart was still a young enough mare that an extra hour off every Friday night was not to be scoffed at. It was just a short walk down Mane Street, then a few hundred feet down Posey, ten minutes talking to a patient in her home, and then the rest of the weekend was hers.
She knocked at Scr- Loosey's door. Loosey eagerly flung the door open to greet her. Her eyes were bright and cheerful, a permanent grin danced across her face, her mane was freshly brushed, and the small cottage, though spartan and ill furnished by nearly anypony's standards, was cleaned til it practically sparkled. "Hello, Nurse!"
"Good afternoon, Miss Loosey," Nurse Coldheart said, a bit rougher than she intended. Slightly too late, she softened her statement with a small but heartfelt smile. "How are we feeling this week?"
"I'm fine, thank you! Would you like to come in for tea? I can tell you all about it." Not waiting for a response, Lefty Loosey bounded off to pick up a teakettle hanging over the fire roaring in the hearth.
"I'd like that." Coldheart let herself in and shut the door behind her. Screw Loose- Miss Loosey sometimes liked to pretend that her visits were a mere social call, but as playing at being a hostess was ultimately beneficial for Miss Loosey, Coldheart tended to let it slide. She eased herself onto a cushion by the coffee table, sighing happily as she took her weight off her hooves for the first time in over eight hours.
Miss Loosey poured boiling water into two cups-- one chipped, both cracked, but immaculately clean --over tea leaves, taking a seat opposite her guest. "What do you want to talk about first?"
"Well, last week you started working with the construction crew. How has that been working out?"
"I've been working really hard but it's been fun, and everypony is nice to me. We've been trying to fix the town hall."
"Well, that sounds very important." Her tone practically dripped with fabricated interest, not that Loosey ever seemed to notice.
"Not really. The foremare says the only thing that will fix it up is burning it down and starting over."
Coldheart snorted in amusement before she could catch herself. "That's really not appropriate to say."
"... Oh. I'm sorry. I thought it was funny." Loosey smiled weakly at Coldheart, but her drooping ears and her eyes showed how she truly felt.
"It's alright, Loosey. You're not a bad pony. Now, tell me about your friends."
"Well, there's Pinkie Pie, she's nice and very funny. And Ditzy said I could be her friend... And Screwball has been telling me all kinds of funny jokes and she said next week we could go see a movie together!"
"Screwball?" Nurse Coldheart placed a hoof on the bridge of her nose, sighing in annoyance. "We've been over this, Loosey. She's a bad influence and an enabler. If you don't stay away from her you'll never get better."
"Nuh uh! I've been a very good pony and I haven't been slipping up at all! Screwball is my bestest friend, please don't tell Doctor Stable!" Beneath her pleading and whining, Nurse Coldheart noted that there was legitimate panic in Scr- Loosey's voice.
"I'm going to regret this," Coldheart said. "You are doing much better lately. As long as that doesn't change, I don't see any reason why the doctor needs to know about Screwball."
"Oh, thank you Nurse Coldheart! I won't let you down!"
"Good. That's what I want to hear." Coldheart glanced around for a clock; finding none, she decided she'd spent long enough. "I'll be back next week." The nurse stood up and walked out the door.
Screw Loose smiled excitedly as Nurse Coldheart left; another perfect week since Doctor Stable said she didn't have to live at the hospital anymore! She sipped at her tea, holding it between both her front hooves. It was almost too cold to be worth drinking. She'd gotten too wrapped up in talking with Nurse Coldheart to drink much of her tea while they were talking, and it didn't seem that Nurse Coldheart had even touched hers.
Her eyes went wide with panic. You have to drink your tea! It's what you do! She clambered to her hooves, picked up the teacup with her mouth and threw open the top half of her door. She set the cup down on the small lip of the lower door, and then called for Nurse Coldheart. "Nurse Coldheart! You forgot your tea!"
Coldheart grimaced, then forced a smile as she turned back to Loosey. "I'm sorry, Loosey, I have a lot to do. Next time I'll stay long enough for tea, okay?" Her smile became more earnest.
"Okay, I guess. See you next week."
Screw- Loosey was taking this remarkably well; perhaps she really was recovering faster out here. Coldheart walked away from Loosey's cottage, feeling oddly uplifted by her brief 'visit' with her patient. Behind her, a baby dragon attempted to wrangle a menagerie of misbehaving animals. They stampeded down the street, taking a corner before Coldheart got a chance to see them.
"BARK!"
Coldheart turned to Loosey, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Did you just bark at me?"
"No! It was the dog with the dragon and the flying turtle!"
"If you're going to lie to me, you could make up something less ridiculous. This is going in your file, Loosey." She had no intention of filing it-- for starters, it would mean going back to the hospital, and it really was a small thing, but she had to impress on Loosey how important this was. Without waiting for a response, she trotted off, her mind already on tonight's fun.
Screw Loose's face fell. She didn't do anything, and she'd tried her best all week, and there really was a dog and a dragon and a flying turtle! Before sorrow could find purchase, it turned to rage. She slammed her door, letting her precious teacup shatter on the cobblestones. Her left eye and right ear twitched, her face was frozen in a mask of fury, and for a moment she was too mad to move. It was just so unfair! Screw Loose let out a scream of pure, undiluted anger, her eyes screwed shut as she stormed around her small living room, striking at and grabbing and throwing everything in reach. All the while, she kept screaming, as loud and as hard as she could. When she finally opened her eyes an eternity later, collapsed on the floor, she looked around to see smashed plates and glasses, a broken table leg, and at the center of it all, her beloved full length stand mirror had shattered in a thousand pieces.
Ordinarily, she would have cried, but she felt too drained, empty in body and spirit. She could barely move; that was fine. Bad ponies sleep on the floor anyways.
"Kid? Hey, kid." A familiar voice brought her back from her dreams.
"Hi, Screwball..." Her voice was scratchy and faint, with no passion behind it, and she didn't open her eyes.
"You feeling sick, Screw Loose? You sound like you've got a cold." Unseen, Screwball leaned in with anticipation written on every inch of her body, from her beanie down to her hooves.
"I'm fine... I'm just a little hoarse." Screw Loose sighed.
"Haha! I knew you couldn't resist an opening like that." Screwball giggled happily. "Anyways, I cleaned your house while you were asleep. It was really messy and somepony could have gotten hurt."
"Huh?" Screw Loose sat up, opening her eyes. The room was dark, except for a few candles and the full moon shining in from outside, but she had enough light to see the mess was gone. Her cottage was back to normal, none of her plates or glasses were broken, and her favorite mirror was new and gleaming, not a single crack to be found. "... did you do your magic?"
"Oh, it's not important how I did it, kid." Screwball mimed putting her hooves into unseen pockets, turning aside her gaze modestly. "I could tell you had a rough day and I didn't want you to worry about all that while we went on our walk."
Screw Loose's ears pricked up at the mention of a walk, but she furrowed her brow in concentration, willing herself to focus on something important first. "Nurse Coldheart says you're a bad influence and an enabler."
"Of course she says that, kid! That's what they pay her to do." She threw a hoof around Screw Loose, drawing her into a hug. "But it's basically all a game. It's so you can learn what makes you happy, regardless of what I say or the doctors say. Understand?"
"So if playing pretend with you didn't make me happy, you'd stop?" She looked up at Screwball quizzically.
"Absolutely." Screwball hugged Screw Loose deeper, squeezing her comfortingly. "You need a glass of water? It'll help your throat."
"Uh-huh..." Screw Loose hesitated. "Does it have to be a glass?"
"Ahh, I gotcha." Screwball went to the locked cabinet, the one Screw Loose never opened when Nurse Coldheart visited. She unlocked it and rummaged through the cabinet, drawing out a small burlap sack. She placed its contents on the counter by the sink: two plastic bowls, a leash and collar, and two small paper bags with smiling dogs printed on them. Screwball filled one of the bowls with water and carried it to Screw Loose, setting it in front of her.
Screw Loose lapped greedily at the cool, clear water, panting with excitement as it soothed her sore throat. She wagged her tail happily, draining the bowl of its contents in minutes. Screwball waited patiently for her to finish. As soon as she was done, Screw Loose sat back on her haunches, panting happily.
"Good girl," Screwball said, grabbing a treat from one of the bags and throwing it to Screw Loose. Screw Loose snapped it out of the air with gusto, and Screwball tucked a few more under her beanie for later. "You're such a good girl. Do you wanna go on a walk?"
Screw Loose's ears pricked up at the mention of walking. She jumped up and down excitedly, tail wagging with glee.
"Okay, okay, we've gotta put your collar on, girl." Screwball buckled the thick, rough cloth collar around Screw Loose's neck, tight enough that it wouldn't chafe but loose enough not to choke her. Screw Loose's breathing relaxed, comforted by the familiar weight that had been missing from around her neck for far too long. Screwball ran a hoof comfortingly down Screw Loose's back to the base of her tail. "And now the leash... and we're ready."
It was late evening and most of Ponyville had long since turned in for the night. In Ponyville Park, only Screwball and Screw Loose were still enjoying Luna's beautiful night. The two ran freely and happily down the paths and through the grassy park itself, stopping only long enough for Screw Loose to howl out her pain to the night sky. Before the moon reached its peak, the pair had collapsed in a pile on the soft grass, both drained and giddy from their midnight run.
"Hey Screwball?" Screw Loose rested her head against Screwball's side. "Thank you, for everything." Screwball merely patted her on the head in response. After a few minutes, she spoke.
"No problem, kid. Same time next week?"
"Sure."
Screw Loose held a pencil clumsily between her teeth, writing in her journal. It was a very private journal-- those exact words graced the cover in permanent marker, in fact --and as such, was the only place she could safely talk about herself to herself. Sometimes, she would read over old letters to herself to remind herself how far she had come. Tonight, however, she wrote for future her, and to make sure her memory was clear. Especially her memory of things she didn't talk about with the nurses and doctors. The journal was full of near-identical entries, but the similarities were just as important as the differences.
My name is Screw Loose. I was born Lefty Loosey but I do not care for it. I turn twenty-six next May. My favorite comfort food as a foal was muesli. I once spent three years in a hospital because I thought I was a dog. I got better. Not a better do-
I know I am not a dog. I am a pony. I have four hooves and a mane and a cutie mark and can survive on grass if it comes down to it. I cannot track by smell. I do not have paws.
I am not a dog, but there is nothing wrong with playing pretend to unwind as long as you can remember what is real. I just want to make sure you remember that, future me.
PS: Ask Pinkie about the dragon and the flying turtle, she has to know their owner because she knows everypony.
