To Be A Parentby Pastel PonyChaptersPrologueSilence Screams LoudestFace Our DemonsPrologueIt was an early Saturday morning that found a young stallion named Filthy Rich parked on a bench outside the town hospital with shaky knees and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. With a shiver, he lifted a hoof to smooth his frazzled mane, and glanced down at the offending object in-between his lips. He knew it was a nasty habit, but sometimes a smoke was the only thing that calmed him down in a crisis. And in many ways could this easily qualify as a crisis. Each time the front door slid open, he instinctively winced. Though he was likely imagining it, he swore he could still hear his wife’s curses and screams from three stories above. He ought to be up there with her… She was going through a lot… she needed him. But, well, she was in a lot of pain, and, naturally, for the last six hours she’d been taking it out on him with a long monologue about how “his was all his fault, with many an inappropriate word thrown in. Plus… he was afraid. Coward, he told himself. He took one last hasty pull on the cigarette, before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with his hoof. It was time to get back upstairs, he had given up so much for this day, he couldn’t chicken out now. Hell, he’d even married a mare he wasn’t even sure he wanted to for the sake of this. But his father always said, you knock a mare up you marry her. With a sigh, he dragged himself off his hooves and stumbled towards the doors, casting a wary glance at the couple coming out the hospital, a foal snuggled in the mare’s foreleg. Was that really what it was like? Was that little thing really worth giving up your whole life for? Filthy Rich was a grand total of 22 years old. As far as he was concerned, that was too young to try and raise a foal. Nevertheless, he steeled himself against his fears and trotted inside, choosing at the last minute to take the stairs, if only to prolong the inventible end result of his path. At last, he reached the maternity ward. He went to open the door to his wife’s room only for a young unicorn nurse to pop her head out a second before. “Ah! Mr. Rich! Excellent. I was just about to come and find you, we think it won’t be long now.” The stallion nodded nervously and followed the mare inside, where his wife lay in the bed. Her normally luscious pink mane was scraggly, and plastered against her forehead. Too tired to even curse her husband anymore, she simply reached out a hoof that he gently took. The doctor and nurse bustled back into their positions. “Alright Mrs. Rich, I know you’ve been through a lot, but we’ve given you as much of a break as we can. It’s time to finish the job.” The mare nodded and it began again… all the screaming, all the crying. In a matter of mere minutes he found himself with his head turned away, eyes shut and cringing. Even when Filthy heard the doctor shout that he could see the head, his eyes remained shut. And then it was quiet. Carefully, he cracked an eyelid open to watch the nurse and doctor bustling around something small. He finally forced himself to look at his wife again, as she merely sat there with a tired expression. With her shadowed eyes, messy mane, and sweaty fur, she looked surprisingly beautiful. She seemed... cleaner, almost, without her hairspray and eye shadow. The nurse turned around with… it in her foreleg. “Congratulations.” She smiled, lowering the bundle into its mother’s waiting arms. “It’s a filly.” A filly. Not for the first time that day, Filthy felt his heart stop. Peering nervously over his wife’s shoulder, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She had pink fur, just one shade darker than her mother’s, with tufts of purple and white hair on her head. It seemed so impossible that he had been a part of creating something so tiny and delicate. He reached out his hooves gently. ”Can… Can I?” His wife nodded, and he carefully cradled the filly in his arms. She stirred and looked up at him, clear blue eyes, the exact same shade as his, framed by long, dark lashes. What amazed him most though, was her mane… the more he studied it, he was sure. Though it couldn’t be seen now, it would one day be curly, just like his mother’s. The colors were exactly the same. The nurse approached them with the birth certificate held in her magic’s glow. “Have you picked a name?” He nodded, unable to take his eyes off his daughter’s face. “Y-Yes… Diamond.” That was what they had agreed on if the baby was a girl. But… it didn’t feel right. His gaze was once again drawn to the beginnings of the foal’s mane. Golden Tiara would never know her granddaughter… never hold her in her arms. Suddenly, he wanted his daughter to have that connection very, very badly. “Tiara…” he whispered. The nurse glanced up. “What?” Filthy nodded to himself. “Her name will be Diamond… Diamond Tiara.” His wife glanced up sharply, but he ignored her. Even as his wife frowned, and the nurse bustled away, he never stopped looking at his daughter. The filly shifted slightly and whined quietly as the noise of the medical equipment being shifted around assaulted her sensitive new ears. “Shhh.” Her father whispered, holding her close. “Don’t worry. Nothing will hurt you so long as I’m around. That’s what daddies are meant to do. And…” he chuckled, lifting a hoof to stroke her short mane. “There might be some screw-ups along the way, but I’m going to do my best as a father.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I promise you… my baby Tiara.” Silence Screams LoudestSilence screams across the dinner table louder than any argument ever could. I take a small sip of my water and watch my daughter’s passive face as our butler, Randolph, wheels in our meal. He offers me a small smile as he places my dish in front of me. “Lavender really outdid herself tonight, sir.” I chuckle. “I’m sure she did.” He gives Tiara her plate and begins to wheel out the cart. She makes a face at the vegetables heaped on the side of her plate and opens her mouth to object. “Randolph,” I say, cutting her off. “Would you like the rest of the evening off?” He turns to me with a confused expression. “Sir?” “Go home and be with your family.” I smile and wave my hoof. “It won’t kill Diamond and I to clear our own dishes for once.” He nods happily at me and trots out the door. “Dadddd…” I glance back at my daughter. “Picking up dishes is, like, icky.” For once, I don’t laugh. It’s not endearing anymore. Instead, I simply begin eating my food. I’m not sure if I have the ability to speak to her right now. I study her expression as Cheerilee’s words continue to assault my head. Despite all that I have heard, I am still unable to see the monster I would have expected from a child that picks on others. Part of me wants to pretend this morning never happened… the rest of me can’t. “How was school today? Learn anything new?” She shrugs. “I guess.” The silence presses down on me. “Like what?” “I don’t know. I think we were studying the Crystal Empire’s history, or something.” She blinks. “Oh… and I got a D on yesterday’s math test.” I sigh. “Diamond, you promised me that you’d study.” She snorts. “It’s not my fault that my tutor’s a grouchy old idiot.” Her tutor is only a few years older than me, and the best mathematician in Ponyville. “Diamond… You do know that even with a tutor, you still have to… try, right?” My daughter’s lip quivers as her eyes go wide. “Are you saying I’m not trying?” Yes. “No.” I say. “I just… I worry about you, that’s all. If you don’t like your tutor than I’ll help you with your math homework. I’m sure brushing up on my multiplication and division wouldn’t be bad for me.” My laugh dies in my throat as she rolls her eyes. “A-Anyways, what did you and Silver Spoon do after school?” “We went to SugarCube Corner. I wanted to go to that nice café near the library, but it was closed.” “If you want, we could always go there for lunch tomorrow. I’ve got some business at a couple shops in that part of town in the morning, but if you wouldn’t mind coming with me-“ “No thanks, Dad.” She says, before pushing her plate away. “I’m done.” She hops off her chair and trots towards the stairs. “Diamond,” I call after her, and she turns. “I… Good Night.” She nods and places a hoof on the first step before looking back at me. “Dad?” “Yes?” “Would you remind Lavender that I don’t like carrots?” I sigh. “Of course, dear.” I carry in the last of the dinner dishes and place them in the sink, turning on the hot water. Lavender has already left for the night, not that I mind. Slowly, I scrub each of the plates, cups, and bowls clean, savoring the calm sound of the running water and the occasional squeak of the almost empty dish-soap bottle. Eventually, the thoughts that I attempted to drown out with work reach me. Why didn’t I say anything? I can’t just ignore it. I must have been ignoring something all this time to never properly see the truth that Cheerilee had to force into me. It still makes my sick to my stomach. Any other parent would ground their child, at least. I’m not above punishing my daughter when she misbehaves… So why couldn’t I confront her about it? I’m afraid. The horrible fact resounds throughout me. I’m afraid… because deep down, I know somehow it must at least be partially my fault. Studying my reflection in the water, I fight the urge to yell at it, like some kind of fool. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I must have… right? I dry the last dish and wipe my hooves clean. Through the kitchen and into the dining room, I turn and follow the old oak staircase upstairs. It’s the same one as when I was a colt, one of the many things Diamond says needs updating. As I reach the top, I slowly open the door to my daughter’s room. She looks so peaceful, so innocent. I quietly cross the room, and just watch her breathing peacefully. I was right, all those years ago, her hair did turn out to be curly. I lean down and kiss her forehead. No matter what I may discover tomorrow, or the next day, or any day after that, I love my daughter... No matter how much it might hurt me later. Even though it is late, when I reach my room I am too uneasy to sleep. Instead, I open my desk and pull out some files for the shops I’m checking up on tomorrow, forms for deliveries, notes from my manager at my other Barnyard Bargains in Manehatten, even the constant letters from my ex or her lawyer, promising to have my money and my daughter. Anything… Anything I can find to avoid being alone in bed with my thoughts. I fire off letters, make notes, and when there is nothing else to do, I sit and work out each order for apples or pears, pencils or pens by hoof. Normally I would use a calculator, but I am in no hurry to be finished. The numbers fill the silence. Face Our DemonsI think the part I truly enjoy about my job is interacting with other ponies. As much as I enjoy the quiet of an office and the methodical simplicity of paperwork, it can’t compare to the hubbub and culture one finds out in the center of town. In the quiet of a home with only three ponies living in it, the noise is something I relish. Saturday mornings are the best days to be out on the streets. The mix of stalls nestled in between the shops, the smell of the fresh bread and flowers out on display, even the murmur of conversation amongst ponies as you pass them only adds to the charm of a weekend market. In a way, I’m glad Diamond refused to come with me. Perhaps my favorite kind of peace is what I need to fully comprehend the situation with my daughter. There’s no point to spending time with her if I’m not prepared to start dealing with this issue head on. If only I knew how. The barrage of noise as I turn onto the crowded main road is all I need to draw me from my thoughts. Here, I don’t need to think or plan, only allow myself to smile and exchange my hellos with neighbors and friends. Everypony knows Pinkie Pie is the best when it comes to being acquainted with… Well, everypony, but I’d like to consider myself a close second. When I slip into Bon Bon’s sweet shop, the smell of cinnamon tickles my muzzle and I sneeze. Glancing up from a cooling rack of cookies, the beige mare offers me a smile. “Mr. Rich! I’m so glad you could come! Sorry about the smell, I tend to overdo it on the snicker doodles, Lyra really likes cinnamon.” I chuckle and walk over to the counter, happily accepting the cookie Bon Bon offers me. I take a bite and, not for the first time, wish I could bake like this. “Delicious as always, Ms. Bon Bon, I think these would sell well in Manehatten.” The mare actually squeaks and I have to fight back a smile. Did she really think I was kidding when I made the offer to put some of her candies and baked goods in my store in the big city? “Oh, thank you Mr. Rich! I was so afraid you were coming here to tell me you’d changed your mind.” “Young lady,” I nose my way into my saddlebags and grab the paperwork I have stored there, placing it in front of her. “I am nothing if not a stallion of my word. I think you will find that arrangement to your liking, but if not, I’m happy to make changes.” She snorts as her eyes scan the papers. “You do realize you’re only a few years older than me, right?” She glances up just as I open my mouth to respond. “And don’t give me any rubbish about passing thirty suddenly making you old or something, you’re better looking then a lot of twenty-five year olds I know.” I roll my eyes, but smile. “Don’t let your marefriend hear you say that.” She makes a face, but her eyes are fond as she reaches for a pen. “Lyra knows she’s safe. Speaking of which, don’t think I didn’t notice those cookies levitate off, get out here you little thieves.” I blink in surprise as a Lyra’s mint green and rather guilty looking form slinks around the corner, followed by a familiar lilac filly. “Hello Lyra, and… Dinky?” Lyra offers me her usual enthusiastic smile and ruffles the filly’s mane. “Yup. Derpy has a thing today, so she asked us to watch the little scamp. Luckily, she’s a great partner in crime.” Bon Bon gives her a half-hearted glare, and slaps away a green hoof that is inching towards the tray of cookies. “You’d better not be filling her head with all your crazy stories about your hunams, Lyra.” Lyra rolls her eyes. “They’re called humans Bonnie, if you’re going to criticize my taste in studies, at least get the name right, geez.” I chuckle, but keep my eyes trained on the filly that is now trying to sneak another cookie. “I... I certainly know I’m right when Derpy writes to me because her daughter is crying about Diamond making fun of her for not knowing who her father is... Bon Bon returns to the paperwork, signing her name on each page, then gives it back to me, all the while keeping up well-timed slaps to thieving hooves. “I think this all looks perfect., Mr. Rich. Perhaps we can do lunch sometime next week in order to finalize order choices.” I nod and slip the papers back into my bag. “That sounds fine. Before I leave though, would you mind if I have a word with Dinky? I heard about some goings on at school I’d like to confirm, and I… can’t get a word out of Diamond on the subject.” Bon Bon offers me a puzzled glance. “Sure. Um, as long as that’s ok with you Dinky?” The filly offers me a similarly confused glance, but nods, and Bon Bon shoes her marefriend in to the kitchen before following after her. Dinky walks up to me, and frowns. “If there’s something going on at school, I don’t know about it either.” I sigh. “I’m afraid you do actually, Dinky. Tell me… Does my daughter… What is she like at school?” Her eyes go wide, and suddenly looks nervous, “I… She’s ok. We, uh, we don’t really spend much time together. Not that I avoid her or anything! But… um…” I suspect cutting to the chase is the only way I’m going to get answers here. “She picks on you, doesn’t she?” A tremor of what I shakily recognize as fear travels through her body. “How did you…?” “Cheerilee told me.” I say softly. “And I’m so sorry, Dinky. I had no idea. But right now, I need you to tell me what she’s really like, because Celestia knows I’ve ignored the signs for too long.” Dinky chews her bottom lips anxiously, but after a moment opens her mouth to respond. “She’s… awful. She's absolutely awful. She teases me about my father, and Berry about her mom. She and Silver spoon call us and the Cutie Mark Crusaders blank flanks. They made fun of Scootaloo for not being able to fly. Diamond steals Twist’s glasses all the time and hides them. She even pushed me once, and… I… Oh, I just hate her!” She freezes and clamps a hoof over he mouth. “I… I’m sorry.” “It’s fine.” I tell her, though I am actually rather shaken by what she has said. Are things truly that bad? The filly shakes her head. “It’s not. Mommy says you should never hate someone, even if they’re mean, ‘cause eveypony, unless they’re evil or Discord, do bad things because they hurt somewhere, even if they don’t know it, and they need help, not hatred.” I stare at her, and in spite of myself, feel a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. “Thank you, Dinky. I’ll leave you to enjoy your day now. Tell Miss Bon Bon and Lyra goodbye for me.” I turn to leave, but stop when I feel a hoof on my shoulder. Turning back, I see Dinky looking up at me, a stoic expression on her small face. “Bad things can hurt, Mr. Rich, but ignoring them just makes it worse. Sometimes we blame ourselves for things that aren’t really our fault, but there’s no point to that, because it doesn’t solve anything. The best thing to do is face our demons, and hope for the best. More often than not, things that seem impossible to do can be done quite easily, and the result can be good, better than things were before. You should remember that.” I study the filly in front of me, and inexplicably feel both incredibly sad and much better. “When did the little filly I knew grow up so fast, huh?” Dinky shrugs. “I’m just speaking from experience. Besides, we all have to grow up sometime.” I smile. “Yes, that we do. Goodbye, Miss Dinky.” With that, I turn and walk out the door. I need to see my daughter. Author's Note Well, took nearly six months, but here's a new chapter for you! I'm so terribly sorry this took so long, if you've been following my blog posts, you're aware of my rather meager explanations for my lack of work getting down... On the bright side, the next chapter is just undergoing revisions, so should be up sometimes later this week... Friday or Saturday, probably. Oh, p.s. I’m just speaking from experience. Yes, this is totally a reference to The Hooves Family Tree. Have a nice day.
PrologueIt was an early Saturday morning that found a young stallion named Filthy Rich parked on a bench outside the town hospital with shaky knees and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. With a shiver, he lifted a hoof to smooth his frazzled mane, and glanced down at the offending object in-between his lips. He knew it was a nasty habit, but sometimes a smoke was the only thing that calmed him down in a crisis. And in many ways could this easily qualify as a crisis. Each time the front door slid open, he instinctively winced. Though he was likely imagining it, he swore he could still hear his wife’s curses and screams from three stories above. He ought to be up there with her… She was going through a lot… she needed him. But, well, she was in a lot of pain, and, naturally, for the last six hours she’d been taking it out on him with a long monologue about how “his was all his fault, with many an inappropriate word thrown in. Plus… he was afraid. Coward, he told himself. He took one last hasty pull on the cigarette, before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with his hoof. It was time to get back upstairs, he had given up so much for this day, he couldn’t chicken out now. Hell, he’d even married a mare he wasn’t even sure he wanted to for the sake of this. But his father always said, you knock a mare up you marry her. With a sigh, he dragged himself off his hooves and stumbled towards the doors, casting a wary glance at the couple coming out the hospital, a foal snuggled in the mare’s foreleg. Was that really what it was like? Was that little thing really worth giving up your whole life for? Filthy Rich was a grand total of 22 years old. As far as he was concerned, that was too young to try and raise a foal. Nevertheless, he steeled himself against his fears and trotted inside, choosing at the last minute to take the stairs, if only to prolong the inventible end result of his path. At last, he reached the maternity ward. He went to open the door to his wife’s room only for a young unicorn nurse to pop her head out a second before. “Ah! Mr. Rich! Excellent. I was just about to come and find you, we think it won’t be long now.” The stallion nodded nervously and followed the mare inside, where his wife lay in the bed. Her normally luscious pink mane was scraggly, and plastered against her forehead. Too tired to even curse her husband anymore, she simply reached out a hoof that he gently took. The doctor and nurse bustled back into their positions. “Alright Mrs. Rich, I know you’ve been through a lot, but we’ve given you as much of a break as we can. It’s time to finish the job.” The mare nodded and it began again… all the screaming, all the crying. In a matter of mere minutes he found himself with his head turned away, eyes shut and cringing. Even when Filthy heard the doctor shout that he could see the head, his eyes remained shut. And then it was quiet. Carefully, he cracked an eyelid open to watch the nurse and doctor bustling around something small. He finally forced himself to look at his wife again, as she merely sat there with a tired expression. With her shadowed eyes, messy mane, and sweaty fur, she looked surprisingly beautiful. She seemed... cleaner, almost, without her hairspray and eye shadow. The nurse turned around with… it in her foreleg. “Congratulations.” She smiled, lowering the bundle into its mother’s waiting arms. “It’s a filly.” A filly. Not for the first time that day, Filthy felt his heart stop. Peering nervously over his wife’s shoulder, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She had pink fur, just one shade darker than her mother’s, with tufts of purple and white hair on her head. It seemed so impossible that he had been a part of creating something so tiny and delicate. He reached out his hooves gently. ”Can… Can I?” His wife nodded, and he carefully cradled the filly in his arms. She stirred and looked up at him, clear blue eyes, the exact same shade as his, framed by long, dark lashes. What amazed him most though, was her mane… the more he studied it, he was sure. Though it couldn’t be seen now, it would one day be curly, just like his mother’s. The colors were exactly the same. The nurse approached them with the birth certificate held in her magic’s glow. “Have you picked a name?” He nodded, unable to take his eyes off his daughter’s face. “Y-Yes… Diamond.” That was what they had agreed on if the baby was a girl. But… it didn’t feel right. His gaze was once again drawn to the beginnings of the foal’s mane. Golden Tiara would never know her granddaughter… never hold her in her arms. Suddenly, he wanted his daughter to have that connection very, very badly. “Tiara…” he whispered. The nurse glanced up. “What?” Filthy nodded to himself. “Her name will be Diamond… Diamond Tiara.” His wife glanced up sharply, but he ignored her. Even as his wife frowned, and the nurse bustled away, he never stopped looking at his daughter. The filly shifted slightly and whined quietly as the noise of the medical equipment being shifted around assaulted her sensitive new ears. “Shhh.” Her father whispered, holding her close. “Don’t worry. Nothing will hurt you so long as I’m around. That’s what daddies are meant to do. And…” he chuckled, lifting a hoof to stroke her short mane. “There might be some screw-ups along the way, but I’m going to do my best as a father.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I promise you… my baby Tiara.”
Silence Screams LoudestSilence screams across the dinner table louder than any argument ever could. I take a small sip of my water and watch my daughter’s passive face as our butler, Randolph, wheels in our meal. He offers me a small smile as he places my dish in front of me. “Lavender really outdid herself tonight, sir.” I chuckle. “I’m sure she did.” He gives Tiara her plate and begins to wheel out the cart. She makes a face at the vegetables heaped on the side of her plate and opens her mouth to object. “Randolph,” I say, cutting her off. “Would you like the rest of the evening off?” He turns to me with a confused expression. “Sir?” “Go home and be with your family.” I smile and wave my hoof. “It won’t kill Diamond and I to clear our own dishes for once.” He nods happily at me and trots out the door. “Dadddd…” I glance back at my daughter. “Picking up dishes is, like, icky.” For once, I don’t laugh. It’s not endearing anymore. Instead, I simply begin eating my food. I’m not sure if I have the ability to speak to her right now. I study her expression as Cheerilee’s words continue to assault my head. Despite all that I have heard, I am still unable to see the monster I would have expected from a child that picks on others. Part of me wants to pretend this morning never happened… the rest of me can’t. “How was school today? Learn anything new?” She shrugs. “I guess.” The silence presses down on me. “Like what?” “I don’t know. I think we were studying the Crystal Empire’s history, or something.” She blinks. “Oh… and I got a D on yesterday’s math test.” I sigh. “Diamond, you promised me that you’d study.” She snorts. “It’s not my fault that my tutor’s a grouchy old idiot.” Her tutor is only a few years older than me, and the best mathematician in Ponyville. “Diamond… You do know that even with a tutor, you still have to… try, right?” My daughter’s lip quivers as her eyes go wide. “Are you saying I’m not trying?” Yes. “No.” I say. “I just… I worry about you, that’s all. If you don’t like your tutor than I’ll help you with your math homework. I’m sure brushing up on my multiplication and division wouldn’t be bad for me.” My laugh dies in my throat as she rolls her eyes. “A-Anyways, what did you and Silver Spoon do after school?” “We went to SugarCube Corner. I wanted to go to that nice café near the library, but it was closed.” “If you want, we could always go there for lunch tomorrow. I’ve got some business at a couple shops in that part of town in the morning, but if you wouldn’t mind coming with me-“ “No thanks, Dad.” She says, before pushing her plate away. “I’m done.” She hops off her chair and trots towards the stairs. “Diamond,” I call after her, and she turns. “I… Good Night.” She nods and places a hoof on the first step before looking back at me. “Dad?” “Yes?” “Would you remind Lavender that I don’t like carrots?” I sigh. “Of course, dear.” I carry in the last of the dinner dishes and place them in the sink, turning on the hot water. Lavender has already left for the night, not that I mind. Slowly, I scrub each of the plates, cups, and bowls clean, savoring the calm sound of the running water and the occasional squeak of the almost empty dish-soap bottle. Eventually, the thoughts that I attempted to drown out with work reach me. Why didn’t I say anything? I can’t just ignore it. I must have been ignoring something all this time to never properly see the truth that Cheerilee had to force into me. It still makes my sick to my stomach. Any other parent would ground their child, at least. I’m not above punishing my daughter when she misbehaves… So why couldn’t I confront her about it? I’m afraid. The horrible fact resounds throughout me. I’m afraid… because deep down, I know somehow it must at least be partially my fault. Studying my reflection in the water, I fight the urge to yell at it, like some kind of fool. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I must have… right? I dry the last dish and wipe my hooves clean. Through the kitchen and into the dining room, I turn and follow the old oak staircase upstairs. It’s the same one as when I was a colt, one of the many things Diamond says needs updating. As I reach the top, I slowly open the door to my daughter’s room. She looks so peaceful, so innocent. I quietly cross the room, and just watch her breathing peacefully. I was right, all those years ago, her hair did turn out to be curly. I lean down and kiss her forehead. No matter what I may discover tomorrow, or the next day, or any day after that, I love my daughter... No matter how much it might hurt me later. Even though it is late, when I reach my room I am too uneasy to sleep. Instead, I open my desk and pull out some files for the shops I’m checking up on tomorrow, forms for deliveries, notes from my manager at my other Barnyard Bargains in Manehatten, even the constant letters from my ex or her lawyer, promising to have my money and my daughter. Anything… Anything I can find to avoid being alone in bed with my thoughts. I fire off letters, make notes, and when there is nothing else to do, I sit and work out each order for apples or pears, pencils or pens by hoof. Normally I would use a calculator, but I am in no hurry to be finished. The numbers fill the silence.
Face Our DemonsI think the part I truly enjoy about my job is interacting with other ponies. As much as I enjoy the quiet of an office and the methodical simplicity of paperwork, it can’t compare to the hubbub and culture one finds out in the center of town. In the quiet of a home with only three ponies living in it, the noise is something I relish. Saturday mornings are the best days to be out on the streets. The mix of stalls nestled in between the shops, the smell of the fresh bread and flowers out on display, even the murmur of conversation amongst ponies as you pass them only adds to the charm of a weekend market. In a way, I’m glad Diamond refused to come with me. Perhaps my favorite kind of peace is what I need to fully comprehend the situation with my daughter. There’s no point to spending time with her if I’m not prepared to start dealing with this issue head on. If only I knew how. The barrage of noise as I turn onto the crowded main road is all I need to draw me from my thoughts. Here, I don’t need to think or plan, only allow myself to smile and exchange my hellos with neighbors and friends. Everypony knows Pinkie Pie is the best when it comes to being acquainted with… Well, everypony, but I’d like to consider myself a close second. When I slip into Bon Bon’s sweet shop, the smell of cinnamon tickles my muzzle and I sneeze. Glancing up from a cooling rack of cookies, the beige mare offers me a smile. “Mr. Rich! I’m so glad you could come! Sorry about the smell, I tend to overdo it on the snicker doodles, Lyra really likes cinnamon.” I chuckle and walk over to the counter, happily accepting the cookie Bon Bon offers me. I take a bite and, not for the first time, wish I could bake like this. “Delicious as always, Ms. Bon Bon, I think these would sell well in Manehatten.” The mare actually squeaks and I have to fight back a smile. Did she really think I was kidding when I made the offer to put some of her candies and baked goods in my store in the big city? “Oh, thank you Mr. Rich! I was so afraid you were coming here to tell me you’d changed your mind.” “Young lady,” I nose my way into my saddlebags and grab the paperwork I have stored there, placing it in front of her. “I am nothing if not a stallion of my word. I think you will find that arrangement to your liking, but if not, I’m happy to make changes.” She snorts as her eyes scan the papers. “You do realize you’re only a few years older than me, right?” She glances up just as I open my mouth to respond. “And don’t give me any rubbish about passing thirty suddenly making you old or something, you’re better looking then a lot of twenty-five year olds I know.” I roll my eyes, but smile. “Don’t let your marefriend hear you say that.” She makes a face, but her eyes are fond as she reaches for a pen. “Lyra knows she’s safe. Speaking of which, don’t think I didn’t notice those cookies levitate off, get out here you little thieves.” I blink in surprise as a Lyra’s mint green and rather guilty looking form slinks around the corner, followed by a familiar lilac filly. “Hello Lyra, and… Dinky?” Lyra offers me her usual enthusiastic smile and ruffles the filly’s mane. “Yup. Derpy has a thing today, so she asked us to watch the little scamp. Luckily, she’s a great partner in crime.” Bon Bon gives her a half-hearted glare, and slaps away a green hoof that is inching towards the tray of cookies. “You’d better not be filling her head with all your crazy stories about your hunams, Lyra.” Lyra rolls her eyes. “They’re called humans Bonnie, if you’re going to criticize my taste in studies, at least get the name right, geez.” I chuckle, but keep my eyes trained on the filly that is now trying to sneak another cookie. “I... I certainly know I’m right when Derpy writes to me because her daughter is crying about Diamond making fun of her for not knowing who her father is... Bon Bon returns to the paperwork, signing her name on each page, then gives it back to me, all the while keeping up well-timed slaps to thieving hooves. “I think this all looks perfect., Mr. Rich. Perhaps we can do lunch sometime next week in order to finalize order choices.” I nod and slip the papers back into my bag. “That sounds fine. Before I leave though, would you mind if I have a word with Dinky? I heard about some goings on at school I’d like to confirm, and I… can’t get a word out of Diamond on the subject.” Bon Bon offers me a puzzled glance. “Sure. Um, as long as that’s ok with you Dinky?” The filly offers me a similarly confused glance, but nods, and Bon Bon shoes her marefriend in to the kitchen before following after her. Dinky walks up to me, and frowns. “If there’s something going on at school, I don’t know about it either.” I sigh. “I’m afraid you do actually, Dinky. Tell me… Does my daughter… What is she like at school?” Her eyes go wide, and suddenly looks nervous, “I… She’s ok. We, uh, we don’t really spend much time together. Not that I avoid her or anything! But… um…” I suspect cutting to the chase is the only way I’m going to get answers here. “She picks on you, doesn’t she?” A tremor of what I shakily recognize as fear travels through her body. “How did you…?” “Cheerilee told me.” I say softly. “And I’m so sorry, Dinky. I had no idea. But right now, I need you to tell me what she’s really like, because Celestia knows I’ve ignored the signs for too long.” Dinky chews her bottom lips anxiously, but after a moment opens her mouth to respond. “She’s… awful. She's absolutely awful. She teases me about my father, and Berry about her mom. She and Silver spoon call us and the Cutie Mark Crusaders blank flanks. They made fun of Scootaloo for not being able to fly. Diamond steals Twist’s glasses all the time and hides them. She even pushed me once, and… I… Oh, I just hate her!” She freezes and clamps a hoof over he mouth. “I… I’m sorry.” “It’s fine.” I tell her, though I am actually rather shaken by what she has said. Are things truly that bad? The filly shakes her head. “It’s not. Mommy says you should never hate someone, even if they’re mean, ‘cause eveypony, unless they’re evil or Discord, do bad things because they hurt somewhere, even if they don’t know it, and they need help, not hatred.” I stare at her, and in spite of myself, feel a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. “Thank you, Dinky. I’ll leave you to enjoy your day now. Tell Miss Bon Bon and Lyra goodbye for me.” I turn to leave, but stop when I feel a hoof on my shoulder. Turning back, I see Dinky looking up at me, a stoic expression on her small face. “Bad things can hurt, Mr. Rich, but ignoring them just makes it worse. Sometimes we blame ourselves for things that aren’t really our fault, but there’s no point to that, because it doesn’t solve anything. The best thing to do is face our demons, and hope for the best. More often than not, things that seem impossible to do can be done quite easily, and the result can be good, better than things were before. You should remember that.” I study the filly in front of me, and inexplicably feel both incredibly sad and much better. “When did the little filly I knew grow up so fast, huh?” Dinky shrugs. “I’m just speaking from experience. Besides, we all have to grow up sometime.” I smile. “Yes, that we do. Goodbye, Miss Dinky.” With that, I turn and walk out the door. I need to see my daughter. Author's Note Well, took nearly six months, but here's a new chapter for you! I'm so terribly sorry this took so long, if you've been following my blog posts, you're aware of my rather meager explanations for my lack of work getting down... On the bright side, the next chapter is just undergoing revisions, so should be up sometimes later this week... Friday or Saturday, probably. Oh, p.s. I’m just speaking from experience. Yes, this is totally a reference to The Hooves Family Tree. Have a nice day.
