The Show Must Go On

by BuckingPonderous

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sad, Drama, Octavia, DJ P0N-3
Length: 2945

Octavia struggles with depression and her constantly ill father.

Octavia's life is fine; A marefriend who loves her, a strong group of friends, and a paying job. It's better than some ponies can claim to have. And yet she knows that, with her father's looming medical troubles, it's all downhill from here.

Published 2016-02-25 23:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-21 04:00:32 UTC

But My Smile Still Stays On

Octavia Melody Philharmonica's life was fine. She lived well enough in a nice house in Ponyville. She had enough food for herself and her marefriend to eat and the utilities were always paid on time. Doctor visits were few and far between and Vinyl's remarkably good bill of health despite her rough and tumble lifestyle was ever the mystery.

She had plenty of friends; Lyra and Bon Bon had just recently celebrated their anniversary. Derpy was trying to court a handsome new stallion on the block. His first name always escaped her but he was apparently a doctor of some kind. And Colegate's dentistry practice was doing fine by all accounts even if she often had to vent her frustration at having to give the same advice to the same ponies over and over again. Pinkie Pie appeared the worst perpetrator by how often Colegate complained, but Vinyl had overheard some gossip that Pinkie's inability to listen may not have been the whole story behind her frequent dentist visits.

And her family situation wasn't terrible but then she had never been all that close to them anyway. She had grown disillusioned some years before about the revolving door of women in her father's life. Octavia had never known her actual mother, and having one mare coming in to play that role only to leave later and be replaced by another hadn't done much to endear her to the mares who came into her father's life.

It was not a perfect life, but she knew it was better than many in the world had.

And yet there were days when getting up in the morning was a challenge. She would smile but it refused to reach her eyes, and she would have say the right things to placate anypony who noticed. She would arrive at rehearsal and the conductor would notice that her music wasn't as lively as it should be and would make an effort to invigorate her. The worst though, were the days when she was doing something mundane like cutting up some vegetables for dinner, and then without warning she would find herself staring at the knife in her hooves and idly considered how easy it would be to turn it around and pierce it deep between her ribs.

She'd never do it, of course. Even when the thought crossed her mind, logic reared its head and reminded her of everything that would happen in her wake if she were to be so selfish. Somepony would have to find her body, and that somepony would most likely be Vinyl. And the shock and horror of finding the mare she loved dead on the kitchen floor after stabbing herself would scar and torment Vinyl for the rest of her days. After that word would spread and it would devastate her father and the same friends she cared for. The orchestra would have to find another cello player, and there would a general question of "Why?" and looking for answers that would never be found. Even if she left a note before doing so, it would only change the questions. "Why didn't I see this coming? Why couldn't I stop this? Why wasn't I there?" And then guilt would pile on and it would haunt them all. The guilt of what would happen in the aftermath of her suicide kept her from it more than anything else.

She was depressed. Intellectually, she knew she was depressed and she needed to see somepony about it or talk about it before it all became too much. But it never felt like the right time to bring it up to Vinyl or their friends and getting therapy cost money she didn't have. Getting food on the table and the utilities paid, on top of the yearly gifts for birthdays and Hearths Warmings, and the general costs of living rarely left much in terms of spending money without dipping into her emergency fund. As much as their living was fine, it also didn't mean they were living in the lap of luxury either.

And money was going to get tighter still when Father was finally diagnosed. He'd been in and out of the hospital on such a regular basis that it became just another part of routine. She would get a letter from whichever mare was with him this time letting her know what was going on, and she would feign concern in her reply to hide her growing apathy. "In other news, the sun rose today as expected." She would tell Vinyl sourly whenever the topic was brought up.

Intellectually, she knew she should feel terrible about saying such a thing, and were he to actually die she would feel even worse for not showing the sympathy and care that she should have. But the stallion had so worn her down with the regularity of these visits that she just couldn't work up the concern anymore. He'll be fine. She always told herself. He always is. And in a few weeks to a month he'll be right back in there anyway because heavens forbid he stay out of the hospital for more than a month.

It was going to be cancer. She always knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would be end up being as-of-yet undiagnosed cancer that was the cause of these frequent visits. Her entire life he'd been a smoker, and it was going to catch up with him now. And with that diagnosis, the constant revolving door of his marefriends and ex-wives would finally stop as well. He was not so rich that somepony would stay with him just to get a shot at the tiny inheritance he might leave behind, and there were few mares that would want to be with somepony who was going to die soon. More likely than not, he would end up turning to her as his health failed and the medical bills began to pile up.

Making enough for herself and Vinyl was not a terrible prospect, some months were tighter than others, but they never went without food and warmth. But her father and his health on top of visits to a psychiatrist? It would drive them into the ground. She'd done the math a dozen times and it never came out as anything remotely good.

And even if she had the money for it, going to therapy always felt like an awkward and unpleasant experience. It was too clinical and she always feared that there was a risk that these thoughts of hers that she knew she would never actually act upon would have her locked up in some hospital, which couldn't be allowed to happen because she knew that without her Vinyl wouldn't be able to keep everything going.

She loved Vinyl with all her heart, but making only a few hundred bits a month wasn't enough to live on. Certainly not with everything else that was going to be coming into their lives soon. She could lean on her friends for support, but Vinyl had her pride and even if she didn't there were limits to what their friends could provide, and those limits would grow as time went on. The fact of the matter was that Vinyl needed her and the money she brought in to make ends meet and not end up out on the street somewhere.

And that meant that killing herself with that knowledge would be absolutely inexcusable and cruel.

Sharing this with her friends would do little except worry them. They would offer platitudes and an open ear and even some financial support that wasn't needed yet but might be needed later. She wouldn't put that on them. She wouldn't inflict onto them this feeling of helplessness that she sometimes suffered when she really sat down and thought about her current situation. Better ignorant and happy about something they had no power over than knowledgeable and miserable.

So she had no real choice. The show must go on. If not for herself than she must live and endure for Vinyl. Even when she didn't want to, she had to get up every morning and continue on. She had to force the right smiles, say the right things, and pretend nothing was wrong because Vinyl needed her.

She had to look for ways out of this. Ways that wouldn't just make things worse. She wouldn't put them into debt to save her father but she would do all she could to help him that was within her means. There would be guilt and anger and she wasn't doing everything she could to help him because he was her father, despite all his imperfections. But she could fight that back with the knowledge that everything would fall apart if she put her all into saving a stallion who had brought this misfortune upon himself. Cold logic and ruthless calculus was required to keep her tiny part of the world spinning correctly.

And if that made her heartless... So be it.

"How do you do it?"

Vinyl let out a long sigh, running a hoof through her mane as she watched from the door as the ambulance cart sped away, carrying Octavia's father with it. What was supposed to be a fairly normal get together had gone completely off the rails after he had collapsed in the kitchen, knocking himself unconscious. It looked like a nasty spill, from what Vinyl could see, and it wasn't like the old man was in the best of shape to begin with. He'd just gotten out of the hospital a few weeks ago from neck surgery, and he hadn't even been out long enough to get the neck brace off. What followed was a rather nerve wracking twenty minutes, as she called Octavia from upstairs to come help and she in turn called the ambulance.

In retrospect, Vinyl was startled by Octavia's calm, if not clinical detachment as she dealt with the situation. It was almost cold how she went about it all, obeying the operator's instruction to move her father to a position to assist his breathing, and not even sparing a sympathetic glance when he began weeping in pain as she did so until he passed out yet again. Vinyl had been in a state of mild panic, and trying vainly to sooth him and help out as Octavia spoke with the paramedics. She wasn't even related to the guy, and she could only sympathize, yet there Octavia was doing a sterling impression of Pinkie Pie's sister when her own father was apparently in bad enough shape that they were rushing him to the hospital.

Even now that it was over, Octavia's calm demeanor had not changed. Looking behind her, Vinyl could see her marefriend knelt down behind the table, sweeping up bits of a broken plate, after wiping up the food that had been on the plate like nothing in the world was wrong. It just wasn't like Octavia, or at least the Octavia, Vinyl was accustomed to. Vinyl would have expected Octavia to be in much the same worried state she was in, maybe more on account that this was Octavia's father they were talking about. But there Octavia stood, completely stone-faced, sweeping up the mess on the floor.

Octavia glanced up, catching her stare and holding it for a moment before taking the dustpan to the trash. "Are you alright, Vinyl?" She asked, her tone the first sign of any sort of emotion since Vinyl had called her downstairs. Octavia sounded a bit concerned, not for her father, but for Vinyl. Again, Vinyl was baffled. Wasn't that something Vinyl should be asking her?

"Uh, yeah. I'm cool." Vinyl replied, again running a hoof through her mane, a nervous habit of hers that she'd never quite been able to kick. Shutting the door with her back leg, Vinyl returned to the kitchen, leaning over the counter. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Octavia said, shutting the trash can with a little click before turning back. She flashed Vinyl a small reassuring smile, again making Vinyl feel a strange sense of unease. The smile seemed genuine enough, but the fact that it came to Octavia so easily and so soon after her father's collapse was just weird.

"How do you do that?" Vinyl asked, her mouth speaking before her brain could filter what she wanted to say into something vaguely tactful.

Octavia's smile dropped, but thankfully she didn't appear offended at the question, just a bit confused. "Do... what, exactly?"

"Be so calm about all this." She gestured with her hoof. "I mean, that was your dad, right? Aren't you worried?"

Octavia stared at her for a moment, clearly thinking about how to answer before shrugging dismissively. "Not particularly. He'll be fine."

"How do you know?" Vinyl asked, amazed by how nonchalant Octavia could be about this. Did nothing about this faze her?

"Because he always comes out fine." Octavia answered, her tone picking up a chill of mild exasperation. "And within the month he'll be right back in the hospital again. We've talked about this, remember?"

Vinyl did remember. She'd been hearing from Octavia about her father's poor health for some time now; how he was constantly in and out of the hospital with such regularity that Octavia would sometimes say it was as routine as Princess Celestia raising the sun every morning. But she still didn't get how something like this happening right in front of her didn't provoke any kind of reaction. It was kind of creepy actually how completely apathetic Octavia was acting. "Yeah, but... I dunno, it just feels like you should be more upset about all this."

Octavia scoffed, turning around from the table to look for something to drink. "And what good would that do me? Honestly, Vinyl, if I let myself get upset every time he was back in the hospital I'd never have time to do anything else." Fishing out some wine, she pulled the cork out with her teeth and began pouring herself a glass. "Besides, aren't you the one who's always telling me not to worry about things I can't change?"

Vinyl hesitated, caught for a moment between not wanting to sound like a hypocrite, knowing on a subconscious level that this was a way more delicate topic than she was prepared to handle, and yet still wanting to dig into Octavia's behavior to try and make sense of it. Eventually curiosity won out. "So you just don't let it bother you? It can't be that easy, I mean he's still your dad."

Octavia paused, again giving her answer some thought before taking a very long sigh and draining her entire cup and setting it down. "It's not that I don't care, Vinyl." She began, looking over at the bottle of wine and considering whether or not to pour herself another glass. "If I didn't care, I'd have just left him lying there and went back upstairs. I just...I can't bring myself to get emotionally involved with him anymore. In and out of the hospital he goes, on and on does the revolving door turn. And so much of this misfortune he brings upon himself." She gestured around the kitchen. "I don't see his wheelchair anywhere, do you? He knows he's supposed to stay in there because he keeps passing out." A flash of subdued anger crossed Octavia's face. "Does he listen? No. Not at all. It's difficult for me to feel sorry for him anymore when so much of his misfortune is brought upon himself."

Vinyl found herself nodding, able to at least see the line of logic in her behavior now. But once again her mouth shot off before her brain could filter what she wanted to say. "Still seems kinda cold, though."

Octavia gave Vinyl a look somewhere between highly annoyed and genuinely offended, and Vinyl felt the very strong urge to try and backpedal and avoid this conversation turning into an argument. Before she could say anything though, Octavia cut her off. "Maybe." She said quietly, staring at the empty glass for a bit. "Maybe it is."

There was an awkward silence between them as Vinyl tried to vainly grasp at some kind of response. She wanted to say something to make Octavia feel better, but she knew that nowadays platitudes would only end up annoying her further. Instead, she opted to circle around the counter and put her leg over Octavia's shoulder, giving her an affectionate nuzzle.

Octavia returned the gesture in turn, clearly appreciating her marefriend's support. After a while they separated, and quietly agreed to spend the night here, just to watch the house and in case there was a remote chance that they might be needed at the hospital for something. Ultimately nothing came of it, and they returned to Ponyville, letting the crisis pass. As Octavia predicted, her father was indeed released within the week, and when news reached her of this, Octavia again shrugged it off, feeling no happiness about her father's recovery nor any sense of satisfaction about being right. And Vinyl eventually came to accept that this was just Octavia's way of dealing with the stress. She might not have thought it was the healthiest way of doing things, and now made a habit of trying to get her to open up about it in the rare moments when it seemed like a good idea; but if it worked for Octavia, it had to be good enough.

It wasn't like Vinyl could really do anything to change things either.