The door to number 34 Whimsical Drive was shoved forcefully inwards with a grunt. In an instant, wild wind thundered in, bringing with it buckets of rainwater, twigs, leaves, and one small, green and rather unlucky frog. Next through the portal to the untamed storm outside was a bedraggled mare, who stumbled forwards into the hallway before lifting a hind leg to slam the door shut.
THUD.
Calm fell on that little, dark, wet space. The only noise was the rain pounding against the roof slates, the wind howling against the walls, and the sound of heavy breathing.
Ribbit!
And the frog.
***
Colgate was exhausted. Rivulets of water dripped from her drenched mane and tail, onto the carpet. Drip drip drip. She had worked late again tonight, and by Luna's guiding light had it been one of those days. Drip drip drip. Her legs were shaking from having pushed her way through the storm. On a good day it would only take her ten minutes to walk to her dental clinic, but on a night like this – well, she didn't know how long it taken, only that she was happy to be home. Drip drip.
She was shaking – whether from exhaustion or hypothermia she wasn't sure. Drip drip. She just needed to. Drip. She needed. Drip. Rest for a moment. Drip. Catch her breath. Drip. Maybe lie down. Her legs were barely holding her up, and she wasn't sure they would take her much further.
Ribbit!
What was that?
Still in the dark, Colgate reached out a hoof for the light switch near the door. Drip. She fumbled, found the switch, and then clumsily tapped at it until it clicked. Blinding brightness flooded the corridor, and flower-pattern wallpaper jumped out at Colgate. She blinked, shaking her head against the sudden intrusion to her senses. A twig dropped out of Colgate's two-tone white and blue mane, and water fled down her light blue coat.
Colgate shook her head again to clear the encroaching fog of sleep from her mind, and she looked around her. Drip. Rubber Wellingmane boots, like those still on Colgate's hooves, lined the wall closest to her. Drip. Sitting on the edge of one those, which was half-filled with water, was the frog.
Ribbit!
Colgate took in this new information with the nonplussed expression of a mare who was a veteran of the unexpected. Drip. She hadn't earned a career in dentistry, married a crazy mare, and helped raise a teenage filly to be surprised by an amphibian perching on her spouse's galoshes. Drip. It was at that point that Colgate realised just how cold she was.
Drip.
Emergency mode kicked in. Colgate had enough medical training to know that being cold and wet was a bad combination. She clumsily shook off her squelching rubber boots. Drip. With calm, controlled breaths, she used her magic to loosed the buckles on the saddlebags slung over her back.
Thomp.
The saddlebags containing her evening's shopping fell heavily to the floor. Drip. Colgate left them there as she made her way down the corridor, forcing herself to keep moving with a determined frown on her face. Drip.
She made her way into the living room, which was dimly lit by the glow from the corridor. She grabbed a blanket from the floor with her teeth, and threw it over over herself. Her horn glowed a deep blue as she used her magic to dry herself off as best she could, closing her eyes to concentrate. Still shivering, she threw the wet blanket aside, and picked out a fire-starter from supplies next to the fireplace.
To her relief, there was kindling already set in the hearth, and she set the small white cube within it. With a lightning blue spark, the alchemical object caught ablaze, the kindling quickly following. Colgate levitated progressively larger pieces of wood into the fireplace until she had a large, fiery blaze burning.
She turned to grab another blanket from the cushions on the floor with her magic, levitating it over herself. With the fire burning brightly, she dropped to her knees before rolling over on her side, wrapping the blanket around herself. Eyelids drooping, Colgate cuddled up as close to the warm, warm fireplace as she dared.
***
Huuuh.
Colgate breathed out with a contented sigh. It must be Saturday already. On weekdays, her internal clock would have her up and out of bed bright and early, so that she had time to prepare Pinchy's peanut butter jelly sandwiches. On the rare mornings that she overslept and didn't knock on her stepdaughter's door on her way downstairs, the light pink filly would very soon be knocking on Colgate's door instead, asking where her breakfast was.
Despite Pinchy being a teenager and capable of making her own breakfast, stepmother and stepdaughter continued this ritual, which had been in place ever since Colgate became a member of the family. Certainly, there were mornings when Pinchy would get out on the wrong side of the bed, speaking in surly grunts or getting angry over little things. Colgate never took it personally. She knew that, even though she didn't always seem to appreciate it, Pinchy needed the social contact of having someone to talk before she went to school. Especially as her mother, Berry Punch, often worked through the night, and wouldn't be out of bed until after mid-day.
Colgate reached over, her hoof seeking the comforting softness of her partner's mane. Not wanting to open her eyes, her nose sniffed, seeking out the familiar scent of strawberries and grapes. To her disappointment, her hooves found only a flat, furry surface beside her. In place of sweet fruit, her nose was met with the slightly acrid, smoky scent of burnt wood.
Colgate's eyes snapped open. Her hooves stopped reaching out towards the carpet next to her. She was lying, curled up, in the family room, with her back to the fire. On the other side of the room stood the old grandfather clock that she had inherited from her grandparents when they passed away. Timekeeping was in her blood. One glace at the clock, though, was all she needed to realise that she had no time right now for reminiscing.
It was twelve past eight. Colgate had slept for about two hours in front of the fire, which had settled to a steady crackle. In less than half an hour, her daughter would be home from band practise, expecting a late dinner. The ingredients for which were still sitting the saddlebags Colgate had left in the hallway.
Colgate's stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten dinner yet herself. The petite mare lifted herself to her hooves, with only a slight grimace on her face. Various body parts jostled for her attention, each wishing to register a pressing and very important complaint. Colgate dismissed them the same way she dismissed Pinchy when the filly complained about her 9pm curfew. Steering herself determinedly towards the hallway, Colgate ploughed forwards.
***
Stove on medium heat, oven on high: check. Pastry laid out to defrost: check. Pastry trays buttered: check. Onion are chopped and browning in the pan. Celery chopped, carrots –. The gears in Colgate's well-ordered but tired mind came to a grinding halt as it searched for a logical response to the query: carrots? Her head and upper body swivelled stiffly as her gaze swept the kitchen.
Error 404. The ingredients you are looking for could not found.
Colgate didn't freak out. She had brought in the saddlebags from the hallway. She had emptied the ingredients onto the counter-top in the middle of the clean white kitchen. She had sliced each one into even portions, and they now sat on neatly arranged chopping board in front of her. Except the carrots. There were no carrots. How was she supposed to make carrot pasties without carrots?!
Okay. Breathe mare, breathe. It's just a meal, you can figure this out. It can't be harder than staying calm after spilling your ink-pot over your answer sheet during your dentistry finals. Or getting a mare with serious trust issues to say “I do.”.
Focusing on the air flowing in and out of her body, Colgate realised that her head had been aching for some time now. She was probably dehydrated from sitting in front the fire for so long. She picked up a glass from the shelf behind her, using her magic. She then positioned it under the tap as she turned it gently to let the water flow.
Ponies tended to assume that her wife, Berry Punch, was a cheerful pony with a slightly bitter sense of humour. Most of them only saw the friendly persona that she adopted waiting tables. There were some ponies who remembered the mare who used to drink cheap wine in the park late at night. The friends she had begun to make during her recovery knew her to amiable if brusque, and somewhat prone to reckless behaviour.
Colgate thought that is was possible that only she knew the insecure, child-like need for comfort and affection that hid beneath that shell. She wasn't sure how much her stepdaughter, Pinchy, really understood about her mother. Colgate knew that Berry loved and treasured her daughter, but Berry didn't spend much time with Pinchy.
Colgate felt a pang of regret at that thought. It drew her back to reality, and her eyes focused on the glass she had been filling up, which was now overflowing. Buck. She focused her attention on tightening the tap before she wasted any more water, while drawing the glass underneath it towards her, away from the tap.
Instead, her magic spun the tap towards her and the water came gushing out. At the same time, she had tightened her grip on the glass so much that it shattered. Hounds of Tartarus! Colgate flinched as splinters of glass flew into the sink and on to the counter-top. She immediately released the glass, which crashed in sink, now steadily filling with water. She focused on forcing the tap back the other way, finally ceasing the flow of water.
Sweet Celestia. Maybe I should talk to my boss about taking some time off. The family needed both parent's income to pay the bills, but taking a couple of week's leave on half-pay could probably be managed with careful budgeting.
Colgate's nose sniffed involuntary. Something truly horrid was burning. She turned towards the stove and saw that the onions she had been cooking had transformed into a horrible black pile of sludge. From well-trained habit, she immediately used her magic to switch off the gas heating the saucepan. At least I managed to avert that crisis.
Colgate assessed the situation with a kind of fierce determination that would make a manticore mother defending her baby proud. I still have one onion left. I had apples set aside for desert, so I can use them to make apple and celery pasties instead. It will be a later dinner than usual, but at least it's a meal.
She moved forward to begin reasserting control over her kitchen, and stepped directly on to a very sharp and very pointy fragment of glass, which pierced the sole of her hoof.
***
Pinchy walked through the front door of her family home into the lit hallway, and closed the door behind her. Tartarus, was she glad that storm had died down before she had to make her way home. Her stepmum didn't like her walking home on her own in the dark, so she usually got a ride on a taxi-cart this late at night anyway. Still, only the fancy ones were covered, so it would have been a nightmare of a ride.
Ribbit!
Huh. The storm seemed to have paid a visit to their house, and left one of it's friends behind. Pinchy smiled nervously at the frog, which seemed fairly content in it's new semi-aquatic environment. Sort that out later. Pinchy unwrapped the red woollen scarf from around her neck before levitating it on to a hooks on the wall. I wonder what's for dinner?
A sense of trepidation crept over Pinchy as the smell of burnt food reached her nostrils. She walked slowly down the hall towards the doorway that led into the kitchen. I really hope I'm not going to be expected to eat that. Then she heard a low sobbing come from inside the kitchen. A shiver ran down her spine.
Pinchy bit the bullet, walking as calmly as she could around the corner and into the kitchen. The scene that met her eyes featured a blackened mess sitting in the frying pan on the stove and pieces of broken glass scattered across the counter-top on the far side of the room. Incongruously, three chopping boards were neatly arranged on the white laminar covered island in front of her.
Pinchy breathed out a sigh. Could be worse. She moved around the kitchen island to find the source of the sobbing. She moved forwards to wrap her hooves around her stepmum, who was curled up on the tiled floor.
“Hey Mum,” she said, “Tell me what's wrong.”
***
Pinchy was no stranger to broken glass. After helping Colgate remove the sliver from her hoof, she carefully scoured the floor to make sure no more stray shards remained. Her step-mother had cleared the glass shards from the counter-top and was transporting them to the metal bin in the corner.
Having done so, Colgate turned back to see the pink filly who had been comforting her just a moment ago slumped down against the cupboards in the middle of the room. Pinchy looked just how Colgate felt: exhausted.
Colgate sat down next to her not-quite-daughter-yet-but-getting-there. The tear-tracks on Colgate's face drying, she took back the role of adult, and turned to Pinchy. “Thankyou.”
Pinchy looked back at her stepmother out of the corner of her eyes, and replied with an irreverent snort that reminded Colgate painfully of the filly's mother. “So, what's for dinner?”
Colgate was still looking at Pinchy. “How does pizza sound?”
Pichy eyed the doorframe in front of her, as if assessing it's worth on the black market.
“Can I stay out until 9:30 next time?”
A small, wry smile formed on Colgate's face, and a warning tone found it's way into her voice. “No, and your bed-time is still 10:30, as always.”
Pinchy rolled her eyes, and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Just so you know, I got my test on the History of the Crystal Empire back today. Sixty-five percent.”
Colgate's eyebrows raised slightly, and her mouth thinned out as she pressed her lips together. “Well, we may have to review your study habits.”
Pinchy snorted again. Like that's going to happen. She could tell Colgate was in a better mood now, though. She's feeling well enough to nag, anyways. “How about this: I call you Mum for real now, and we call it quits.”
Colgate's eyebrows shot all the way up. She quickly composed herself, and adopted a calm, gentle tone. “Are you sure? It's your choice, and I want it to be when you're ready.”
Pinchy turned to face her. Her smirking face was framed by her spiky, dark pink mane. One eyebrow was quirked above her green eyes, “Hey. We're there already, OK?”
Colgate smiled on the inside, and turned her head back to carefully appraise the cupboards opposite her. “How about that pizza then?”
Pinchy's face broke into a wide grin.
“Let me have pizza for breakfast tomorrow?”
Colgate relented. It had been a long day for both of them, after all. “Deal. But don't forget to brush your teeth afterwards.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Make sure you floss, too.”
“Don't push it.”
Biting back a retort, Colgate hoped she hadn't just lost a privilege that it had taken her two years to earn. She got to her hooves, went to the telephone, and dialled the number for Neighro's Authentic Neighapolitain Cuisine.
While she was placing an order for two large tomato pizzas with garlic bread, she felt a young head rest itself against her mane, and two hooves wrap themselves firmly around her neck. Those hooves were still holding on tightly when the pizza delivery colt knocked at the door thirty minutes later.
Epilogue
For those wondering about the frog, it was reintroduced to the great outdoors the following morning. It found its way back home without trouble, and was welcomed by its friends and family, each in their own way. It would always remembered the night that it spent in a Wellingmane boot, though, and the conversations that it heard from the hallway.
Author's Note
This story was inspired by the artwork of, and discussion with Mustlovefrogs,
whose gallery can be found here http://mustlovefrogs.deviantart.com/.
