Chapter 2: Yes Mrs. Smith

“Mrs. Smith?” Quick Fix called, awkwardly coming into the farm house as he had for the past few days.

“I'm still here.” Granny Smith groaned from the couch.

“Are you hungry?” Quick Fix recited, already knowing the answer.

“Nope.” Granny shook her head dismissively, “Applejack already got me mah breakfast.”

“Come on.” Quick stamped impatiently, “There has to be something for me to do. I can't just stand here all day.”

“Hasn't stopped you before.” Granny muttered.

The days had gone on much like this every time Quick Fix had come over. Nothing would usually get done because Granny Smith was too stubborn to ask for help with anything, so she would sit in cold silence until Quick Fix left. Quick Fix had no idea what he could do for her, especially since Granny did not say that she needed anything.

He looked down at the floor. That day, he was feeling a little more ambitious than usual, and as he looked down he noted again that dried mud covered the floor. In his head, Quick Fix debated whether or not to subject himself to manual labour. He wanted something to do, but cleaning a house was a big job, and he was not sure if he wanted to do that much work.

“You gonna sit?” Granny asked, pulling up her blanket. “Or just stand there like a stick all day?”

“I was just thinking.” Quick Fix stared into space.

“'Bout what?” Granny Smith raised an eyebrow.

Quick Fix sighed, “Would you like me to clean up?” He felt embarrassed as soon as the words left his mouth. This was a stupid question before he asked it. In his mind he could already hear her giving him a resounding no.

“No.” Granny shook her head. “I'll do it mah self.”

Fed up with all the negatives coming from the old mare, Quick Fix groaned loudly. “Come on! I'm offering to do you a favour. I hate cleaning, but I'm offering to do it so I don't die of boredom. I also thought it might be nice for me to help you out. Why would I think that? Maybe it's my job? I don't even know!”

“Young'un.” Granny Smith silenced him without raising a hoof. Her voice was stern, like a mother chastising a child. “In my day, we spoke to our elders with a little respect. Don't you raise yer voice at me, y'hear?”

Quick Fix ground his teeth together in frustration, “Yes Mrs. Smith.”

“Good,” Granny nodded sternly. “Now, the bucket and mop's in the closet over there.”

Quick Fix felt like a boiling kettle. “What, now?”

“Since y'all're so intent on cleanin' floors,” Granny Smith thought aloud, “You might as well do it.”

Is she doing this to spite me? Quick Fix thought. She has to be. She just has to be. These really are going to be the worst two weeks of my life.

Trying his best not to antagonize the old mare, Quick Fix tried his best not to stomp as he made his way over to the cupboard. He took a deep breath and swung open the closet, a bit too forcefully as the door slapped against the wall to one side. As he peered inside, Quick Fix could tell that the cleaning supplies had not been used in a while. It made sense, seeing as all guests were made to wipe their hooves at the door, and cleanliness was on par with godliness in this house. So none of the cleaning supplies would have had to be used recently.

He took no time pulling the mop and bucket out of the dingy cupboard and closing it more quietly than he had opened it. Dragging the cleaning tools to the sink and filling up the bucket, Quick Fix took a chance to breath. With each breath, he felt his tension slipping away, allowing him to focus on cleaning the floor, and finishing with his shift. When the bucket was finally full, Quick Fix calmly pulled it out of the sink and set it on the floor. He added a little soap for an extra clean.

Quick Fix soaked the mop and got right to work. The floor was not too bad, but again, it was the only thing he could think of to do. When he finally got the floor looking clean and crisp, Quick Fix wiped his brow which had become surprisingly damp with the work he had put in. He dumped the water out and put the mop and bucket away.

“Mrs. Smith.” Quick Fix sighed, “The floor is cleaned.”

“'at's nice.” Granny nodded. “Thank you, young'un.”

Quick Fix hesitated for a moment. “You... You're welcome, Mrs. Smith.” It was more of a question than a statement. Quick Fix was not sure why it was odd to have received a compliment from the old mare, but it was definitely weird. It almost made him angry. For some reason, it almost felt to him like she was taunting him with the thanks. The look of the proud old mare on the couch, who he now felt had manipulated him into working, made his stomach tighten.

Shaking his head to alleviate some of his aggression, Quick Fix peered up at the clock on the wall. He still had an hour left in his shift, and had no idea what to do now. There was a bookshelf on the opposite wall, with a great number of books stacked neatly upon it. Only some of them had labels on the spines, the rest were quite wide and had a shiny finish. Quick Fix recognized these as photo albums, much like the ones his grandmother had had when he was a colt.

“I guess you don't do much reading.” Quick noted aloud, almost as a back-handed compliment. Looking over, he could not tell if the old mare was angry, or just annoyed as always. “What I mean is, you must be out working a lot. So you don't have time to read.” Quick continued, hoping to save himself from the old mare giving him an ear full.

“We work hard outside.” Responded Granny Smith. “Most of the books there have sentimental value, they don't get read much 't all. Besides, photo albums carry the best stories.”

“I guess they do.” Quick Fix nodded, remembering long afternoons with his Grandmother going through old photos. He looked down, and noticed that there was something lodged just under the shelf. Only a corner of paper was visible, so he moved a little closer to inspect.

Reaching out a hoof, Quick Fix tugged at the old piece of paper until he had freed it. Turning it over, he saw a picture of a Pegasus stallion in an airponies uniform. A wedge cap sat upon his head as he saluted and smiled at the camera. His uniform was freshly ironed, and a pair of chevrons were sewn onto the sleeve. The photo showed signs of age, but had been taken very good care of. Though there were wrinkles and folds in it, the picture obviously had been kept very safe. Quick Fix assumed it had been in a wallet or old leather frame before.

“What's that?” Granny called over from the couch. “Bring it here.”

“It's an old photo.” Quick Fix replied, stepping towards the couch, the picture still under his nose as he inspected it. He recognized the uniform from his history books, it was the uniform worn by airponies during a war. A war that had happened long before he was born, but maybe not before Granny Smith had been.

A look of realization swept across Granny Smith's face, then surprise, then panic. She reached a hoof out quickly and snatched the picture away, stating, “That's Private!”

Quick Fix blinked, “I didn't mean anything.”

“Fine.” Granny nodded, looking down at the picture, inspecting any and all damages.

“Who is that?” He indicated the picture with a hoof.

“Never you mind.” Granny Smith peered up at him.

Quick Fix backed away, as if she was an animal. “I just recognize the uniform.”

“Don't you worry about it.” Granny Smith placed the photo lovingly face-down on the table next to the couch. There was something written on the back, but when Quick stepped forward to read it, Granny slapped a hoof over it. “Thank you for coming. Ah'll see you t'morrow.”

“But I still have-”

“Thank you.” Granny insisted.

“Why are you here?” The boss looked up at Quick Fix from his desk. “You don't need to report in at the end of every day.”

“Just want to talk.” Quick Fix sat down in the chair across from the boss. “Is that a crime now?”

“No.” The boss shook his head. “But it doesn't mean I have to care.”

“Do you have a grandmother?” Quick Fix asked.

“No.” The boss looked over at him flatly. “I was grown in a pot. Of course I have one. Two in fact, one on my dad's side, and one on my mom's.”

“It was a simple question.” Quick Fix growled. “You don't have to be an ass. I meant, are they alive? Do you spend time with them?”

The boss coughed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah I have grandmothers, and I spend time with them. Not as much as when I was a colt, but yeah. Why?”

“I remember my grandmother.” Quick sighed. “I loved spending time with her. We always went through the same three photo albums together. One was of her and grampa, one was of my dad when he was young, and one was me.” He smiled. “I liked grampa's the best. She told me all about his military service. He was my hero, and I never knew him.”

“And she was nothing like this old bird your looking after now.” The boss groaned, finishing the story for Fix. “And you wish Smith was more like your gramma.”

“No.” Fix shook his head seriously. “My grandmother was exactly like Mrs. Smith. Hard headed, independent, didn't take crap from anypony. She was the kind of lady who would keep a brick in her purse, y'know? She could be a real... Piece of work sometimes. She made me laugh, and made me angrier than a junkyard dog. But when we got along, it was perfect. We were like the same person sometimes. We ticked each other off so many times, because we knew exactly what to do to set each other off.”

“So what?” The boss sat back in his chair.

“She has albums too.” Quick Fix stated.

“So?”

“It reminds me way to much of grandma.”

“So? What do you want me to do? Change your assignment? No way!”

Fix shook his head again, “No. I'm perfectly fine now that I know what I'm dealing with.”

“And what would that be?” The boss groaned.

“Myself.”