Faded Note Blues

“I guess it must have started…” Faded broke off, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a dry chuckle. “Celestia, listen to me. All it took was an argument and suddenly I can’t think straight to save my life.” She waved a hoof in Vinyl’s direction. The gesture itself was accusing, though it was done with so little force it was barely a facsimile. “You must have a real talent for flustering ponies, missy.”

For a second Vinyl’s grin was fierce, the admission rather complementary. However, it soon soured. “Look, can you just call me Vinyl?” she asked. “None of this ‘missy’ stuff?” She put on a smirk, before giving a hollow chuckle. “I went to highschool with a Missy and I don’t want anything to do with that name. Once she took this…”

At the withering glare she received from Faded she fell silent, though she tried to preserve her dignity by dismissing it with a shrug. “Right, doesn’t matter.”

Faded just gave a nod of appreciation; the expression, when combined with her still moist eyes, was uncharacteristically tender.

In fact, it was almost too tender for Vinyl to believe it was genuine. If the old battle-axe was faking it she’d have to try a lot harder to get the DJ feeling guilty. She had meant what she said and she had no intention of apologizing for it. But even then, it was better to keep her mouth shut. All that would do was prove that Faded had gotten a reaction out of her. Besides, in the off chance it was genuine, she wasn’t about to go and burn bridges before they were even finished being built.

Faded gestured over towards the cupboard portion of her record player, nudging the door open with the tip of her rear hoof. “Vinyl, could you levitate up a record for me? It should be on left. It’s called Goodnight Goldie.”

“Look Fadessseed,” Vinyl began, managing to catch herself at the last second, before flashing a sheepish grin. “I don’t really know where this is going but is it really time to be listening to music? I get that you sung the stuff, but no way you sung that number. You don’t strike me as the fillyfooling type.” She gave a sardonic chuckle. “And I know my fillyfoolers, comes with the gig.”

Despite her protests the DJ was already up and over at the cabinet. Call her crazy but she just had to see what Faded had in her collection. She went to arts school, she knew the classics, even from genres that didn’t have any right to be called classic.

Bending her forelegs, she began to rapidly flick through the available records with her magic, starting from the right. For a second, it looked like Faded was going to argue, though she settled back down again with a sigh, while Vinyl just flicked her tail dismissively. The subtle push that was required by her levitation spell came easy, honed through countless hours of combing her own collection for good samples. To start off, she began slower than she was used to, making her grind her teeth a little. The last thing she needed was to look incompetent.

But she couldn’t help it, unlike the covers that she was used to—the titles done up in a large and  distinctive fonts—most of Faded’s records were just in dull brown paper sleeves, the only marking for those being the iconic logo of the dog and phonograph, His Master’s Voice. On top of that, they were heavier than vinyl, meaning that they were…

“Happy birthday Tavi,” she enthused, flicking a flat, gift wrapped square towards the table where her marefriend sat. It landed softly, spinning a few times on the smooth surface, before coming to a stop just in front of Octavia’s awaiting hooves.”

“Booyah, who’s the mare? I’m the mare!” Vinyl pumped her hoof in triumph, before trotting through the entranceway to the dining room and around to the other side of the room where Octavia sat.

“Very impressive Vinyl,” Octavia replied dryly, raising her right eyebrow into that perfect little arch that the DJ always found oddly appealing. “You must have missed your calling in life. Perhaps that should be a discus on your flank.”

Vinyl chuckled, before giving Octavia a nuzzle, resting her chin on the crook of her neck. “You say that now Octy, but wait until you open it. You’ll be changing your tune then.”

“Oh now really Vinyl, do you think me simple?” Octavia asked, the harsh words softened by the fact that she gave Vinyl a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s clearly a record. What it is this time? Some other band you’ve got an unhealthy obsession of getting me ‘into to’?”

Despite her skepticism it didn’t stop her from tearing into the paper, giggling like a foal.

It was over just as quickly as it had begun, though perhaps a second or two was added thanks to the triple layer of wrapping.

“Oh, Vinyl,” Octavia replied, staring down at the gift with wide eyes. “I-Is that?”

“Yep,” Vinyl replied with a smug little smirk. “That, is an original recording of Beethooven, the first time he performed when Celestia was there.”

“Oh, Vinyl, this is too much. This must be over fifty years old. Whereever did you…”

Her sentence came to a sudden stuttering halt just as she picked up the plain brown sleeve. As she lifted it up the disk sagged, bending in such a way that it was obvious it was not fully intact. That notion was confirmed a moment later as Tavi turned the sleeve upside down, sending several black shards clattering to the tabletop.

“Shit,” Vinyl swore, levitating up several of the pieces and trying to fit them back together. “That son of a bitch merchant sold me a bum copy. I asked him fifty times if…”

“Vinyl,” Octavia cut in, her hoof shaking before she rested it on the table. “Tell me, am I correct when I say that this record was indeed heavier than normal?”

“Yeah,” the DJ replied, eying her marefriend up and down, wondering when the angry Tavi would come out to play.

“And it only contained a single track?” He words were measured, her accent giving nothing of her true emotions away.

“...Yeah.”

“And you just threw it on the table a moment ago.”

“You were there.”

In response Octavia pinched the bridge of her nose, expelling a violent snort from her nostrils. “Oh Vinyl, this was a shellac record. They’re not like vinyl ones. If you’re too rough they’ll break in an instant.” She glanced down at the remains of her present. “As this so aptly demonstrates.”’

“Aww Jeez,” Vinyl said, putting her hoof on her marefriend’s withers, her ears pressed against her head. “I really screwed up.”

“Oh, it’s alright Vinyl, you didn’t know,” Octavia replied, her voice cracking a little under the strain of holding back her emotions. “But, I really did want that record.” Her left hoof twitched.

“Yeah, and I’ll find it for you, I promise,” Vinyl said, leaning forward and giving her marefriend a nuzzle. “Now how about we have some cake? It’s ice cream, just like you wanted. That’ll take your mind off things.”

“Yes, that does sound nice,” Octavia replied, still staring down at the broken pieces, though her lips did twitch slightly. Most ponies wouldn’t have noticed, but Vinyl could tell she was struggling to stay stoic. “And it will give me a few moments to compose myself. You’ll forgive me for saying this but I am just a little… miffed right now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well I know your cake will turn your frown upside down. It’s even got a race car on it since the store only had kid ones.” Not able to hold it back any longer the DJ burst into laughter.

“Vinyl!”

They were shellac.

The hairs on the back of Vinyl’s neck tingled as she felt eyes boring into her, she realizing just how much faith Faded had put in her. With newfound reverence Vinyl slowed her browsing down, though she still found herself grinding her teeth in frustration. Her horn began to ache, begging her to forgo her careful speed and move again with reckless abandon.

She was even starting to consider it to, until finally she flicked over to just what she was looking for. Seizing it with more force than was absolutely necessary she pulled it out of its sleeve and dropped it onto the turntable, all in one fluid motion.

“Seventy Eight,” Faded said, her voice clipped and stilted.

Vinyl snorted of annoyance. Of course she knew what speed the damned thing needed. It was her job to know. But she swallowed it down and drowned out the rest with a dry chuckle.

“Celestia, haven’t done that sort of RPM for a while. Sure the old girl can take it?” She delivered a loving pat to the top of the record player, before turning to face her host.

Faded was sitting in her chair, though her posture was so rigid it looked like it hurt. The arms of the chair creaked, Faded’s hooves holding them so tightly that the DJ could clearly make out the whiteness of her hooves even with her sunglasses on.

She was terrified.

“Jeez, you okay?” Vinyl asked, taking a few careful steps closer, pausing once she was a few feet away. “Ya know you don’t need to do this right? It’s not a big deal.”

“Play it,” Faded gasped out.

“No, really it’s cool,” Vinyl repeated, shifting her hooves awkwardly. She could see the sweat running down the other mare’s face.

She fought down a faint pang of fear. Was Faded about to have a stroke or something? Sure she was curious, but that could wait. The last thing she needed was for her host to keel over dead. “We can do it--.”

“Play… it…,” Faded repeated, she spitting the words out. Her eyes finally focused on Vinyl, and the DJ recognized something there. They were hard, but with a fire blazing beneath the surface. They sort of eyes she saw on somepony when they were itching for a fight, when they’d made up their mind and you had two choices; give in or start brawling. Either way you’d lose.

“Sure, sure,” Vinyl conceded. “It’s your call.”

She flipped the switch on the record play, the motor beginning to turn the record with a soft hum. She stood there for a few moments, listening, checking to make sure that everything sounded normal. Perhaps the delay wasn’t appreciated by her host but habits—especially ones that saved her flank in the past—were hard to break. Satisfied that nothing was going to go horribly wrong she collapsed back into her chair, before levitating the needle to the edge of the record.

She didn’t know where she should look. Instinct told her that it was at Faded, but she just didn’t know. She didn’t want to see her crying and stuff. Besides, it sort of felt like she was intruding on something. Like when someone interrupted her during her mixing sessions.

Eventually, she just settled on staring straight ahead, keeping a careful eye on the player. It looked sturdy, but that was the case with anything before it decided to up and break on her.

The needle circled the record a few times, playing crackling white noise, before it finally reached the actual portion that contained the song.

Goldie goodnight, Goldie goodnight

Good night Goldie, good night Goldie

I’ll see you in my dreams

It was a simple little thing, nothing special. Just another of those dime a dozen songs from years ago, the type that showed up in movies and stuff.

Last Saturday night I got married

Me and my wife settled down

Now me and my wife are parted

I’m gonna take another stroll downtown

For one verse another voice came in, a mare, her voice sweet but unpracticed. A good auto tuning would have fixed that up, Vinyl decided.But what would be the point? There wasn’t much demand in the business for verses sung from the perspective of a begging wife.

Stop your rambling, stop your gambling

Stop staying out late at night

Come home to your wife and family

Stay there by the fireside bright

“That’s me,” Faded croaked, though Vinyl kept her eyes fixed forward. Just from the huskiness of the older mare’s voice it was clear to her she didn’t want to be looking.

Vinyl really didn’t get the fuss about it. The main singer was decent at least, his voice throaty and low, which added a strange sort of sadness to the lyrics. But that didn’t change the fact that it just wasn’t right. Who wanted to listen to songs about being driven mad by another mare when your wife was right there? It just didn’t make sense.

Sometimes I live in the country

Sometimes I live in town

And sometimes I take a great notion

To jump in the river and drown

The sitting around was beginning to grow unbearable for Vinyl, made even worse by the sniffling emanating right next to her ear. She wanted to get out of the house, away from it all. Go someplace where she could dance and party and laugh and not have to think, to wonder.

I love Goldie, Celestia knows that I do

And I’m gonna love her ‘till the seas run dry

But if Goldie turns her back on me

I’ll take morphine and die

With that the song just ended with a whimper, the accompanying guitar plucking out a few mournful notes before joining the silent singer.

Vinyl couldn’t help but be impressed by conviction of that line. Say what you want about the stallion; that he was a wimp for one thing, but that line was honest. Every word was pure truth, or he sung it so perfectly it might as well have been.

Her mind coming up blank for what she could possibly do to delay the inevitable, Vinyl turned to look at Faded.

The mare was a mess. Her eyes looked red and puffy, while one of her hooves were pressed tightly to her lips. A few muffled sob still escaped from Faded’s impromptu gag.

“Hey, you alright?” Vinyl asked, craning closer to the other mare, her foreleg resting on the arm of Faded’s chair. She got no response, though Faded’s arm gripped Vinyl’s hoof tightly, begging her not to let go. Though Vinyl winced, she didn’t dare to move or breathe a breath. She had forgotten how strong earth ponies could be.

With a sigh, Vinyl levitated a tissue out from the box that sat on the other side of the room, holding it in front of the other mare until she took it, dabbing it at her eyes.

The two stayed like that for what felt like an eternity for Vinyl. However Faded’s sniffles and sobs gradually receded, until she breathed a deep sigh.

“Ah, I’m… sorry about that Vinyl,” Faded began, giving her a fragile smile. “I try to keep that all bottled up, but that song, it just breaks down all the walls.”

“Yeah, no probs,” Vinyl said after a long silence, trying to shift herself further away. She grimaced. Her hoof felt like to was throbbing and she was pretty sure that if her coat wasn’t naturally white her hoof would be from lack of blood.

Faded let go of Vinyl’s hoof, though the old mare’s touch lingered for a second. The pressure gone Vinyl snatched it back, using it to fluff up her mane.

“The stallion singing, that was my husband.”

Vinyl glanced over.

“Huh, so what; divorce or something?” She winced, already regretting what she had said. She just couldn’t help herself, the words had left her mouth before she had even thought about them.

“Never got that far,” Faded replied, slumping wearily back into her chair. If the brash comment bothered her she didn’t let on.

The silence stretched out again. The familiar sound that a needle made when at the end of a record very loud in the quiet room. Trying to pad for time until Faded started up again Vinyl levitated the player’s arm into its cradle, before shutting it off with a satisfying click of the dial.

That made things even worse. At least before she had something to concentrate on, now she had nothing. She just couldn’t take it any more.

“So, what did happen then?”

“Hmm…” Faded hummed, broken out of her day dream, glancing over at Vinyl again. “Oh, right… sorry Vinyl. It’s how the song said it was. He met another mare, Goldie, and loved her till the seas ran dry.”

“So, he took morphine and died then?” Vinyl asked, her tone caught between joking and serious.

“Well, that too. He took morphine, then jumped…” Faded’s lip wobbled, though she recovered. “Then jumped in a river and drowned.”

“Uh… wow,” she managed, forcing the words up and over the lump that had inexplicably lodged itself in her throat. “That’s… yeah.”

With a sense of relief, she grabbed up her dinky little cup of tea. Like a mare trapped in a desert she gulped down the bitter liquid, refusing to acknowledge that it was lukewarm at best.