This was so not her scene. Cheerilee pushed her empty shot glass back and forth between her hooves, watching it slide over the smooth marble bar top while she tried to pretend that she wasn’t at a bar on a weekend night. Again.
The speakers overhead thumped with music she told her few friends she liked—when she could summon enough umph to pretend she had a life outside school. The ponies around her little island of misery talked and laughed amongst themselves about topics she didn’t care about. The salt water was overpriced and the bar nuts were stale enough to crack her teeth. The dancing was—rarely—nice, but that was the one thing about the place she even remotely enjoyed any more.
Cheerilee just couldn’t figure out why she was back on the same stool, staring herself in the eye from the mirror behind the bar. Again.
A tall stallion bumped into her before she could formulate a sufficient rationalization for her recent bout of restlessness. He apologized with a smile—and apparent sincerity—that might have swept a lesser mare off her hooves. All Cheerilee could see was a colt playing at being an adult. A pony that she could have taught along with the Cutie Mark Crusaders a few years earlier. She gave him a tired look and waved him off back to his horseplaying comrades, biting her tongue to keep from yelling her ingrained teacher’s response at them. She watched his smile fade a little bit and turned back to her empty glass.
He’d find somepony his speed. Probably. Cheerilee gave her glass another appraising look. Probability wasn’t on her side when it came to love. It barely reached any statistically significant levels to bother with. Habit kept her coming out. Habit and social pressure conspired to make her slightly buzzed on salt again before Luna’s night took control of the sky. It just...wasn’t worth it anymore.
Cheerilee pushed her glass away and sat up a bit straighter on her too familiar bar stool. Her liver and wallot would thank her later, even if her heart continued to feel empty. Since she was in a mathematical mood, she could always take solace in good ol’ numbers. Even foals knew two was better than one. She’d just ignore the version of that equation that applied to the hearts of ponies and head home.
“You look like you could use a refill, my dear.”
The accent cut through the music without needing the volume that the other ponies in the room favored. The ‘ou’ sound drawn out with a soft ‘w’ on the end gave it a southern twang that was it own sort of salve on her eardrums. Cheerilee glanced up into the mirror behind the bar and bottles of drink. Next to her, an older mare leaned against the bar, her two toned, red mane piled up into a complicated bun that was decidedly retro and surprisingly chic all at once.
“Excuse me?” Cheerilee turned her head slightly, regarding the interruption out of the corner of her eye. The other mare was well-built, if trending just a touch on the heavy side; a pony that had led a life of physical labor and was only just starting to soften up. It suited the mare well.
“Well darlin’, you’ve been pushin’ that glass around all night, shootin’ dirty looks at the bartender whenever he gets close. So I was wonderin’ if you’re scared of becoming the old single mare that gets drunk too early in the week? Or maybe you just needed the right mare to slip you some of the good saltwater?” The mare leaned closer slightly, her green eyes sparkling in the bar’s poor lighting. “Now me? I’d gladly buy you a drink. Name’s Cherry Jubilee, by the way.”
Cheerilee stared at Cherry for a moment before turning back to her empty shot glass. Something about the offer plucked at those tender, dead strings in her chest. Normally she sent drink offers right back where they came from. “I suppose I can do...with another. I don’t drink much.”
“I can tell.”
The twang of Cherry’s voice was soothing, calming. It reminded Cheerilee of something, something buried deep in her foalhood memories. Something attached to her memories of home and family. She chased that feeling for a moment, feeling the thump the flow of it within her. “How do you know I’m not done already?”
“I could tell just by lookin’ at you from across the room.”
Cheerilee kept her eyes down, pursing her lips as she chased the vague sensation that the way Cherry said ‘I’ and ‘You’ triggered. She liked the way Cherry’s eyes sparkled. She liked the way the mare held herself with complete confidence. Everything from the accent to the piled up mane told Cheerilee that Cherry—like the Apples—was ‘good folk.’
“This ain’t your scene, now is it darlin’?”
“No.” It just slipped out. Cheerilee hadn’t actually intended to answer that, but Cherry was hitting the nail right on the head without even really trying. She looked up again when the other mare sided up to the bar and dropped her elegant body onto one of the stools. “I thought you were going to buy me a round?”
“Ha! Not here! The saltwater is overpriced here and I, for one, prefer to get what I pay for. Crowd and music really isn’t my cup of tea either.” Cherry smiled in a way that could teach the stallion from earlier lessons. “But I know a place on the other side of town that might be a bit more...our speed. What do you say, pretty filly? Care to try out somethin’ different for a change?”
Cheerilee swallowed, eyeing the mare beside her, and her hooves started to sweat. “Something different? Why are you even here, at this bar?”
Cherry Jubilee didn’t say anything at first, but she slid her hoof over to softly touch Cheerilee’s. “That’s a question you should ask yourself, darlin’. Why are you here when this ain’t the place you want to be?”
“I’m just looking for…” Cheerliee shut her muzzle. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She looked at the hoof gently touching her own. Was it so hard to be open with somepony for a change? Especially somepony that seemed like they might be worth her attention?
Cheerilee sighed, her voice whisper soft. “I’m just looking for somepony to connect with. I’m an idiot.”
Cherry patted Cheerilee’s hoof, smiling tenderly. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, darlin’. I just think you’ve been going about it wrong. If you want to...talk about it, you know where I’ll be. I’ll keep a seat warm and the drinks cold until you figure yourself out.”
She winked before sliding off her stool. Cherry flashed another beaming, authentic smile and trotted for the door. She sashayed, swaying like a ship in stormy seas through the crowd, and paused at the door to look back for a second.
Cheerilee swallowed, watching Cherry until the other mare was gone. Her hooves were starting to feel clammy, the shot glass between them feeling like a loadstone. It was holding her here. Holding her to a place she didn’t like any more; to a lonely, bitter tasting sea of the same thing she’d put up with her whole life. With Cherry Jubilee vanished, she flagged the bartender for another fill up.
By the time he came around with fresh ice and salt and grabbed Miss Cheerliee’s empty glass, its wayward owner was nowhere to be seen. A hoofful of bits marking her passage into the newly fallen night and the unknown ahead of her.
Author's Note
There won't be a chapter by Misago this time around because his was mostly just brainstorming for a story, rather than an actual story.
He swears he'll make it up next time!
