* * *
Roaming
Jeffrey C. Wells
* * *
It was an unusual thing for Clementine Apple to set a table just for two.
Small dinners had been the rule in the city where she had grown up; just her, her mother and father gathered around a glass-top table set with delicate bone china plates and gleaming flatware, with a little soft jazz cued up on the stereo for background. She had always hated mealtimes in the city, truth to tell, and that first Thanksgiving with the Apple Family out on the old country holdings had come as the most delightful of surprises. Like some sort of fairytale wizard, her strong, soft-spoken fiancé had whisked her away to a magical realm of old linen, mismatched dish sets, and relatives in such abundance that she was hard-pressed to even remember their names. Oh, and best of all, whooping and hollering instead of jazz. Lots and lots of both.
And, of course, shortly after they were married, they had started making their own additions to the family tree. For years, there had never been a table set for less than six in the Apple Family dining room. Her beloved husband; herself; McIntosh, their eldest and heir apparent to Cortland's proud little orchard and distillery; their spitfire daughter Applejack; and sweet little Bloom, doted on by all. The sixth member of their crew was Cortland's elderly (but still quite spry) mother, who had moved in with them from the larger country farmhouse when her own husband had passed. The family had worried about her living all alone, and beyond that, Cortland's house was a much shorter commute to her new day job serving lunches to dreamy high-schoolers. Family was family, after all, and they were, to a one, happy to have her company. Meals were never a dull affair with all six of them gathered around.
And then, time and happenstance had started to take a toll. They were five whenever McIntosh was called away to an agronomy conference, and such was the case tonight. Bloom had metamorphosed from a chubby baby into a lanky tweener with a passion for sleepovers, and her meals were often spent in the company of her two little best friends rather than the family. Granny had her canasta parties, and Applejack…
Applejack was doing well for herself in college, to hear her tell it. It was pretty much a given that A.J. was going to end up tending the family orchard alongside her brother, but her childhood love of horses had not faded, either; and then there came the equine studies scholarship from the one school in their price range that offered a four-year degree, and…
Yes. Their eldest daughter had not been present for dinner for a few months, now, and would not be a frequent sight at the table for another several years at least. Clementine was still adjusting to this fact. Some days were easier than others.
So. Yes. Sometimes, there came a perfect storm of absence, and that meant that for tonight, dinner was just the two of them. Hardly seemed worth it to turn on the oven, really, but reheated cold casserole was unappetizing enough without adding microwaves to the equation. She and Cortland had just settled down at the table with plates of steaming beef and noodles and mushroom soup mix, accompanied by freshly-cracked bottles of Winter Reserve cider from their own brewery, when the call came in.
Clementine sighed as she got up from the table and walked to the kitchen to answer the phone, grousing faintly to herself that the Apple home had nothing more modern than a landline for circumstances like this (knowing full well even as she did so that that she wouldn't have it any other way); but her petulance changed to alarm when she heard her daughter on the other end of the line.
"M—ma?" came her daughter's hesitant voice. Applejack's voice was shaky and thick with emotion, and a quick surge of maternal panic rose in Clementine's breast.
"Applejack? Honey, is something the matter?"
A great sniff from the other end of the line. "Naw. Naw, it's all fine. Fine and d—dandy."
The bright flash of Clementine's initial fear faded to an even, slow-burning concern. "Something has to be the matter, honey."
"It's fine, I… I swear," said A.J. "It ain't… the middle of the night or nothing where you are, is it?"
"Come again?" said Clementine. "I know you're a ways away, A.J., but it's not a whole different time zone." The flame of panic again. "You're still in school, right? You're not… somewhere halfway around the world or anything?"
There came the briefest of hedges. "I promise y'all I'm exactly where I'm s'posed to be," said A.J. "Ain't nothing the matter, really. Nothing to be concerned or worried about. Your daughter's fine."
"Well, you're giving us a fright," said Clementine. "Your father and I were just sitting down to supper."
"Right, right," said Applejack, anxiously. "Something with—with cows in it, I expect?"
"Hamburger casserole, the kind you like. Honey, is—"
"So long as it ain't cows," said Applejack, breathing an audible sigh.
Clementine was not at all certain what she ought to say to that. "Your… father is here. Do you want to talk to him?"
Clementine frowned as something like a strangled sob came from the receiver. "No," said A.J. "No I—I just don't think I could bear it. Twi, you were right all along. This was a rotten idea, from the get-go." There was a brief pulse of static, as though the reception on her daughter's cell phone had gone spotty.
"Applejack!" said a second voice on the other end of the line: quicker, clipped, higher in pitch, a little muted due to distance from the receiver. A college friend of her daughter's, elsewhere in the same room? "Please be careful walking around the device! We need to maintain an unbroken link between the Crystal Mountain Leyline and the mirror-portal!"
"Ley… line?" asked Clementine, now thoroughly befuddled.
There was a rustle. "Landline," clarified the second voice, much clearer, as though its owner had taken the phone away from Applejack. "Not ‘leyline.' ‘Landline.' You know, like the type of telephone you have there."
"Yes, holding tight to the old ways, and proud of it. Miss… ‘Twi,' is it?"
"Twilight Sparkle," said the voice. "It's good to talk to you, Mrs. Apple. Applejack has told me… told us all so much about you."
"I'm flattered," said Clementine dryly. "Could you help me understand what's going on out there, Miss Sparkle?"
The voice hesitated. "Oh, it's just that… I mean… Applejack had the idea that maybe you were… that we could… call you and talk to you. And she was really interested in the idea, so I dug into my Hoofsenberg and put together a really crazy apparatus that harnesses leyline energy and projects it across quantum doorways that are untraversable to solid matter, and it works!" A brief noise like two hard objects clapping themselves together in an excited fashion. "This is so exciting!"
"Come again?"
A startled pause. "Er… that is to say, we… decided to pick up our cellular telephones in our hands and give you a call, Mrs. Apple. I realize this may sound a little strange, but your daughter had some things she wanted to say to you. I'm not… sure she's up to it anymore. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if the next time you talk to her that she doesn't remember any of this going on."
And, there it was. Finally, the pattern resolved in Clementine's mind, and the last smoldering remnants of her panic were extinguished in a cloud of gentle amusement. "I see what's going on here," said Clementine.
"You do?" A worm of fear entered the young woman's voice.
"Isn't it a bit early for my daughter to be this foggy, Miss Sparkle? And on a weeknight, too? You had better tell me that my daughter's decision to drink tonight corresponds directly with a lack of classes tomorrow."
"Yes," said Twilight Sparkle, the fear vanishing from her voice. "Yes, I can guarantee you that Applejack has no classes tomorrow."
"Designated driver all picked out? You, maybe?"
"Actually, it's immaterial. We're already at the place we're staying tonight. It's at my old foalsitter's castle."
Clementine blinked at the phone.
"Babysitter's castle," the voice hastily corrected. "Sorry. I misspoke. The point is, we're taking good care of her, Ma'am."
"See that you do," said Clementine, wondering at the odd company Applejack was keeping nowadays. "Now, does my daughter have anything else she'd like to tell me before her father and I get back to our supper?"
The rustle again, the phone being handed back. "Yes," said Applejack, sniffling. "Yes. I do got somethin' more to say. I love you, Ma. I love Pa, too. I love y'all… more than I reckon I know how to say. And I ain't never said it enough. I'm sorry for all them times I got a little headstrong and came at you with fightin' words. Ain't none of them mattered more 'an smoke. Truth is, I regretted every single one. If I could take 'em back, I would."
"There's nothing to be sorry for, Applejack," said Clementine. "You are who you are. And your father and I love you for it. Even if we do get a little hot under the collar at times."
A hard swallow. "I just… I miss the both of you. I miss you so much. Sometimes I can't hardly stand it no more. Feels like a timberwolf howlin' inside of me and I wanna go out running and just not stop so's I can make the hurt go away, but it never works ‘cause the only thing that'll make it better is Pa's neck laid over mine and your breath warm on my withers."
Clementine's eyes felt full. She brushed away a little tear. "We miss you too, sweetheart," she said. "I know your classwork won't always permit it, but you can always come home and see us."
"No," whispered her daughter. "That's just it. I can't."
"I worry about how full you've got your schedule," said Clementine. "You and the way you overwork yourself. A.J., I want you to know that no matter where in the world you roam, your Pa and I are pulling for you. And even if you can't see us or talk to us, you're always with us in our hearts. Always, Applejack."
"Same for me with the two of you," said A.J., her voice breaking. "A hundred times over. Sweet Celestia, Twi, I can't do this no more…"
"You can just say goodbye and hang up," said Applejack's friend, gently.
"Anything you want me to tell your father before you go?"
"Sure," replied A.J. "Sure. Tell him… I still got his hat."
"I'll do that, sweetheart," said Clementine. "I love you."
"Love you too," said Applejack. And then the line clicked with a curiously musical burst of static, and she was gone.
Clementine returned to the dinner table, smiling wistfully. Cortland, always a gentleman, had refrained from taking even a bite until his wife was there to share it with him; and given Cortland's appetite, Clementine knew that the gesture was a considerable sacrifice for the man.
"Everything all right?" asked Cortland.
"Your daughter loves us and misses us," replied Clementine, picking up her fork. "She wants you to know that she still has that old hat of yours."
"She'd better," said Cortland, tucking into his food at last. "It's a good hat."
"It turns out your daughter gets a little maudlin when she's imbibing. Gets it from your side of the family, I expect."
"Can't be. Apples are happy drunks."
"Mm," said Clementine. "I am shocked, shocked to discover that she hasn't waited to reach legal age to find this out for herself. Some parental failing on our parts, I imagine."
"Girl's gonna take over the family business," grunted Cortland, "she's gotta learn how to tell good cider from bad. Earlier the better."
"We're terrible parents."
"Kids turned out all right, didn't they?"
"Yes," said Clementine, smiling. "Yes, they did." She put down her fork and worried her napkin a little. "It's just so hard to let them go," she continued. "Hard to know when it's time to let them face the world alone."
"Sounded like she had a friend there with her? Responsible one?"
"A bit… eccentric, maybe, but… yes."
"Well, there you go. She ain't facing the world alone. She's got good friends. Can't ask for more than that."
"Cortland Apple," said Clementine Apple, "you are as wise as you are handsome, and I love you dearly."
"Love you too, little Orange," said Cortland.
Clementine held up her bottle of Apple Family Winter Reserve. "Here's to the children we made, Cort. May they grow, learn and be always loved, all their long lives through."
"Amen to that," said Cortland, raising his own bottle.
They clinked.
