Coco's Gift

by _____________

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 2895

It's funny how we spill our hearts out to those who least deserve it.

Coco Pommel has a simple thank-you gift for everything Suri has taught her. Turns out, maybe she was hoping for a thank-you as well.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-06 02:50:02 UTC

Quixotic

Coco was such a little mare.

That's what she had been told, anyway. Inquiries about what 'such a pretty young filly was doing in a dump like Manehatten' or something along those lines  were words she heard quite frequently from her elders; otherwise ponies on the street would give her that sideways glance that the tough neighborhood colts reserved only for tourists. Glances that were saved  for ponies who were out of their element, ponies who didn't belong in the city.

As she trotted lightly along the worn concrete with her squeaky-wheeled clothes rack, she felt like the farthest thing from a delicate flower surrounded by all things too tall and intimidating.   The dim lights from skyscraper windows were all the rays of sunshine this  supposed 'delicate flower' needed to grow and bloom. And really, wasn't that the misconception of the century? That a small pony would be suffocated by the industry of a metropolis, or that a city could only amount to its harsh exterior. The real potential lay in the citizens, and while she wasn't one to go and declare the next joe on the street a saint, there were truly ponies out there who she knew could be candles in the darkness, so to speak. Five years ago, her candle had been Charity Kindheart, the mare who taught her to have such an outlook.

Now she had found her oil lantern.

With a little effort, she managed to shove the clothes rack she had been pushing through the double doors of runway plaza building. The metal  clanging against the glass of the double doors caused the mare at the front desk, Gracie, to startle, and Coco gave an apologetic wince. "S-sorry about that. is Suri here?"

Gracie didn't look up from whatever paper she seemed to be perpetually typing each night. "Yeah. In her office."  Right. That should have been obvious. Coco gave what must have been a weak 'thank you' smile and continued to push her burden through the building. The contamination from the concrete outside was probably wearing off onto the pristine carpeting. Why was she so nervous?   Taking a left turn, she allowed herself into Suri's office, where all the magic took place. For a few moments, all she could do was stand in the doorway  and gaze at the place with wide eyes, even though she had seen the place more than fifty times by now. There really wasn't anything special about Suri's office, truth be told. But the master of the vicinity? There was something awe-striking in her very nature.

Never had Coco seen a mare so in control of her environment, so confident that her surroundings were her turf. There was a certain style in Suri, in the little things such as the way she walked and spoke, and in her vast success. Suri never submitted to anypony. Suri could sketch an entire line of fantastic designs in  less than thirty minutes. And Coco, as much as she could dream about it, was not in the least Suri.  "I brought the costumes," she squeaked, snagging her boss's attention from a gorgeous piece of pink fabric. Seeing as the fashionista had not given any sign of annoyance, she continued. "And you were right. The results were definitely worth all the work."

The assortment of boldly colored chiffon dresses stood out in the room like tropical birds, the rhinestones like  raindrops on their delicate wings. She couldn't help but fill with pride as she looked at the finished product of Suri's brilliance and her persistent labor. What had been a distant goal for the past month now transformed into a gorgeous rainbow reality. The alpha mare turned to observe the garments, and Coco felt an invisible force nose-dive into her stomach. She had been too enamored with the dresses that she failed to consider the possibility that she she could have sewn them wrong, destroying the original vision. Did Suri think she had added her own personal touch to the designs? She hoped not. She would never do anything like that!

"Wow, not bad for an amateur," Suri finally concluded, giving them an approving, albeit curt nod. Coco released the pent-up tension in her sides. "Job well done. I was just working on the patterns for my next project when you came in. "

Those words stuck out of her sentence like thorns on an otherwise sweet rose. "N-next project?"

"Well, yeah. I don't plan on bringing my career to an abrupt halt as soon as the first line of the season gets finished--" She laughed "--This is business, not arts-and-crafts class."

That last line was  laced with such detached professionalism. . .such unapologetic efficiency, it almost made Coco forget that she was being dismissed like a schoolfoal. You *are** a schoolfoal, Coco. Stop begging for a pat on the shoulder.* She knew she was a selfish young mare, and it was beneficial to be working for such a practical pony as Suri to keep her in check. Still, was she wrong to want a little recognition for such a 'job well done'?

The countless school nights, staying up until eleven to get sewing finished after homework, missing out on girls' nights out with her friends, even dates. She had anticipated this day for so long, the day when all the monotonous sewing would finally pay off. Perhaps her silly fantasies were painting a picture far too pretty. After all, she was the farthest thing from the Princess's seamstress.  "You're right." Coco sighed.

"It's a habit of mine."

Suri went back to her work, using her mouth to sketch dress concepts into a notebook with the same grace of a unicorn. Coco could only wish her clunky hooves didn't get in the way of delicate patchwork or accidentally push two buttons when she intended to push one. Inconvenience was all part of the package when it came to being an Earth pony. Suri's latest rainbow-themed line had been no exception. Her eyes drifted back to the dresses. "Heh. It's . . . it's kind of like watching your kid grow up, isn't it?"

Suri smiled and shook her head. "Don't act like you've ever raised a child before, Coco."

Screwing up in front of Suri. Again. Coco felt her face heat up and only hoped it didn't show. "I-I mean, it took so long to get these dresses done, and now, soon enough, they'll be old news." Somehow, it seemed unfair.

Smirking all the while, Suri sidled over to her and placed a mentorly hoof around around her back. Coco tried to swallow, but could only form a lump in her throat.  "Old news that makes big money, sweetie.  I hate to trample all over your artistic integrity, but. . . well, this isn’t your art. I designed these costumes. You are awfully sweet to be so considerate of my feelings, but I’m a big girl. I’ve been doing this for ages."

She made a good point. Heck, she always made a good point. All this time, Coco had gone on and on about "our project". "Our dresses." In the end, they were Suri's dresses and she just pieced the fabric together. Of course Suri could never intentionally put her down, but Celestia was she good at delivering a slice of reality when she needed to. "Y-yeah. I guess I'm just really new to all this."

"That you are, but we all have to start somewhere, am I right?"

That was true as well. Imagining Suri as a naive little teen might have been difficult, but not impossible. If only she could capture the older mare's drive, confidence, and creative vision, then perhaps she would amount to more than a seamstress one day. Though she had the saddest feeling that such a sparkle could not be attained with  mere age. Having her voice seemingly stolen from her again, she stood there for a few moments, her soft blue eyes meeting Suri's intense hazelnut brown ones.  The less-than-favorable silence was broken by Suri.  "Okay, so what's the real reason you're sticking around me like a lost puppy? Most of my past assistants just dumped the clothes and left. Is something up?"

There was a saying in her part of the city that all designers were remarkably perceptive in all fields, from decor to fellow ponies. Coco's short internship had proved the legend true.  "Oh, I . . . uh . . ." Grinning sheepishly, she reached into her saddlebag and presented her employer with a petite gift box. "I had leftover materials."

The gift had been a last-minute idea that she threw together back in her apartment. The first fashion line she made with her mentor was a special occasion, after all, and she was raised better than to come see somepony empty-hoofed. Tight finances were the only obstacle in her way. Suri eyed the box as the corners of her mouth twitched either in the direction of a smile or a leer, which one exactly Coco couldn't tell. She shifted her hooves nervously.  It made her wonder what it would be like to hold such influence over other's emotions, for other ponies to anxiously await her approval. It didn't matter now, though, and likely never would. "What's with the nice packaging?" Suri laughed, taking the lid off of Coco's measly offering. "Did you want to show off your raise?"

Coco turned her gaze to floor. She would confess to slightly overspending her small budget on a few frills here and there, but the idea of making a purchase for the sole purpose of showboating her own money was appalling. It was a joke, Coco. Get a grip on yourself. "No, I. . .it's for you, Suri. Working with you on this project has been very special to me. I wanted you to have this so you could always remember it." She managed to let out an inkling of a giggle.  "Even when our--I mean, your dresses are 'old news'." Saying it out loud sounded silly and sentimental, especially in contrast to the sharp businessmare whom she was dealing with here.

Suri cocked her head to the side and smiled at her in the way one would smile at a  sick puppy, with her eyebrows furrowed down on gentle, sympathetic eyes. Or maybe Suri just had a different way of smiling than everypony else. That was probably the case. "Oh. Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. I can’t say I’ve ever had an intern turn the excess materials into a formal gift."

"Just a little tradition I picked up from Ms. Kindheart when I was a filly. We had extra fabric from the play costumes one day, so she used it to sew this flower for me." She gestured to the orange felt Marigold that adorned her mane, ears perking up.

"Straight out of a greeting card commercial. Cute. " Suri snickered, placing the blue box on the counter. On that note, she returned to the task of sketching her next fashion line with vigorous concentration. A twang of childish longing hit Coco as she stood there and watched Suri continue to work as if nothing had changed, like her art was nothing but an endless chore to her, the finishing of one only signifying the start of another. Charity put her heart and soul into every costume she created and into every  theater student she took on. But Suri was a different individual. It was unfair to hold her to those standards. Honestly, what did I expect, some huge affirmation of how deep out friendship is? It's just a spool of thread. She had already overstayed her welcome and Suri most likely wanted some time alone to concentrate, but an uncanny feeling of having unresolved matters glued her hooves to the floor. "Um. . .Suri?"

Muscles  tensing up in frustration, Suri whipped her head around. "What now?"  Coco cringed, instinctively stepping backwards. Saying 'Nevermind' now would only vex her further.

"S-sorry, but. . .uh, you mentioned something about having interns before me and that struck my curiosity. What. . .what did you think of them?" She wanted to slap herself for looking like such a nagging, underloved drip, but the words spilled out of her mouth before she could think rationally. The streetwise mare smirked.

"Well, they all had one thing in common."

"What's that?"

"They all sewed and brought me coffee." Suri burst into peals of adenoidal laughter, her already pink cheeks only gaining more color.  Coco, overcome with a sense of obligation, forced a laugh of her own until Suri gathered her wits once more. She let out a pleasant sigh. "There were only a few before you. Let me think. . .uh, there was Suzette, Cottonpoppy. . .one of 'em was actually a stallion, I believe."

How long? Coco had to wonder, how long would it take for her to become just another name on a list of forgotten assistants? A Faceless pony who was nothing beyond the role she played. There was no behind-the-scenes with Suri Polomare, was there? She had been disillusioned. "Oh" Was all she could think to say.

The nigh- pretentious smile returned to Suri's features and she rolled her eyes. "Though since you're so obviously fishing for compliments, I'll admit that none of them were quite like you."   Coco's insides churned with both the embarrassment of such an accusation and something else which she could only pin down as hope.

". . .Really? What do you mean by that?"

"None of my assistants have had such a massive crush on me like you do." The violet-maned diva snorted, flicking her tail. An intense jolt of heat shot up into Coco's face like an electric switch had been flipped, the budding seed of hope completely eradicated from her body. Her now-gaping mouth twisted into an angry frown.

"What?! S-Suri, I could never look at a mare that way, not even if I tried!"

"Right."

Her tightly clenched jaw trembled."It's true . . ." She couldn't help but notice that her voice sounded particularly desperate and whiny. Suri remained unconvinced.

"It's okay, hon. You can be honest with yourself. I’ve seen the way you look at me, and now you’re giving me a spool of thread like it’s a diamond ring. I won’t blame you for your feelings. "  Coco had been working for this mare for, what, a month now? Heaven knew just how long Suri had been so decidedly under this impression. How could she not have seen that her actions would lead Suri to a conclusion like this? Stupid! Like her  swelling emotion suddenly slapped her hard in the face, she felt like crying then and there. "How dare you. . ." She breathed, her voice reduced to a faint whisper. Don't cry. Don't cry. You have no reason to cry, Coco.

"Excuse me? You'll have to speak a little louder than a churchmouse, Missy." The elder filly scoffed.    Coco tilted her head up just enough to by eye level with her, straining to keep her already sparkling eyes from overflowing with the unwarranted tears. She opened her mouth, but Suri's expression. . . her unconcealed lack of reaction sucked the courage right out of her, just as it always did. All Coco wanted was to fade away into the night, or make a break for it. She needed fresh air now. "I-I. . . I said. . do you want me to get a coffee for you? Right now?"

Suri blinked at her for a few seconds in a sort of smug awe, like she was novelty for sale. "Yeah, sure. I could go for a  vanilla mocha right now." The following fit of laughter temporarily stunned Coco, each convulsion of Suri's insensitive amusement like a jab in her ribs. She had go. She had to go fast. With one last twitch of hesitation, she grabbed the blue gift box between her teeth and sped off as fast as her legs would allow. She payed no thought to looking behind her, the blurs of color that were her surroundings, or any form of consequence. She galloped through the first floor of the plaza until she could feel the sting in her lungs from inhaling cold nighttime air. It was over now. She was safe.

Coco took a moment to catch her breath and waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, waited for the feeling of sickness to go away. It didn't. In all honestly, she had forgotten what she was so 'safe' from in the first place. Almost crying back in Suri's office, taking back the gift, being so. . .so pathetic, what was wrong with her? A lack of sleep, or just general foalishness? Either way, she couldn't ever go back. She shouldn't go back. Anything shred of respectability that she might have had before had been completely destroyed in a single moment of selfishness. But Coco Pommel knew herself far too well to believe in the lies she wanted to.

Even if she couldn't or shouldn't go back, she would inevitably return like a fish to bait. This wasn't new to her, to go for days, weeks, even years of feeling like nothing on the off chance that she might one day feel like everything. Some ponies just didn't change, not Suri Polomare, not the neighborhood colts, and certainly not herself--an unwavering status quo was just in the nature of Manehatten.

Coco decided the city had never made her feel so small.