With broad strokes of a washcloth, George cleared the breadcrumbs from the kitchen table.
Tidying up after a meal was something Louise never found the time to do unless he reminded her, no matter how often he complained. She invariably smirked when he did complain, remarking that there was no reason to rush and that a retired gentleman should enjoy his life more, anyway!
"I enjoy life more when things are tidy!" he would reply with a sniff.
Her usual retort was to raise her nose in the air and stick out her tongue, walk over to the sink, pick up the cleaning cloth usually drying over the divider tween the basins, rinse it, and throw it at him. Catching the damp cloth in the air, he would sigh dramatically and then wipe down the table as she looked on, grinning like a fox.
It was a ritual, a bit of family theater that showed that all was truly well in the world. As he made the familiar motions, George's lips echoed the ghost of her smile. He went to the sink, rinsed the cloth once more and hung it up to dry over the divider.
Turning around, he stared at the clean kitchen, bereft of purpose. His smile faded. Lunch was done. It was barely one o'clock and his schedule was wide-open until suppertime.
There’s nothing left to do here, Louise.
He huffed as he realized that he wished the table was still a mess. For a short moment at least, there had been a job worth doing, menial though it was. Something that felt warm and comforting from the past. Something that reminded him of her.
He heard a clatter from his bedroom.
George’s head swiveled towards the corridor that led into the apartment’s heart. His own skipped a beat.
A burglar? There’s no way a burglar could get past those hallway floorboards without making a major racket, not unless he can fly that is!
George relaxed and shook his head, chuckling.
Something must have fallen.
Given a target for his brief surge of adrenaline, he strode briskly towards the bedroom, the floorboards creakily announcing his approach. George froze in the doorway as a flash of unexpected movement on Louise’s dresser caught his eye.
It was the plush toy their granddaughter Sophie had given Louise when she'd been hospitalized. It had come home with him when Louise hadn't. She had it on her bed when he'd held her hand for the last time. As he was about to leave the hospital room, he'd turned back and seen it there. It looked lonely on the bed. Then the thought had struck him that Louise would have wanted Sophie to have it back. After he'd returned from the hospital, he sat alone at the foot of their bed. The toy smelled of her. He'd clutched it like a child and wept.
When that was over, he had placed it next to Louise's hair brush on her dresser. Having it there was like having a bit of Louise always nearby. Like the brush, he hadn't had the heart to discard the toy despite the advice of well-meaning friends and sober-faced social workers.
The plushie itself was a purple toy unicorn the size of a large cat, with a little purple horn and a tag that read Twilight Sparkle: Element of Magic™. He would read it every time he dusted the furniture on Tuesdays.
Somehow today the toy seemed much bigger than he recalled. It was completely still, prompting him to wonder if his previous impression was just a trick of the light. Louise’s brush lay on the floor in front of the dresser. Somehow it had fallen off.
He shook off his unease and leaned down to pick up.
“That’s it, George,” he mumbled to himself, “old man Alzheimer's finally called your number!” His lips curled into a lopsided smile. Saying the words out loud appealed to his sense of irony, even if he was its sole audience.
The smile died on his lips when the plushie turned its head, pointing its muzzle in his direction. Looking distressed through impossibly large eyes, it swallowed audibly, then clearly enunciated: “Uh, hello?!”
George had always prided himself on being situationally aware. It made him a great straight man for certain types of jokes. He and Louise had often brought their friends to tears, laughing at what appeared to be impeccably timed comic routines. They had never let on that these episodes were totally improvised. It was a special secret they had kept just between them, a special knowing that went soul-deep and was theirs alone.
George raised a single eyebrow. Well, if you’re going to go crazy, you may as well do it in character, he thought. Besides, Louise is watching!
He leaned back and deliberately crossed his arms. "Hello, right back at cha! So, not getting along with the brush?"
The purple unicorn looked confused for a moment, then it glanced over its shoulder at the brush on the floor. There was a clatter as it rose up on all fours.
George’s eyebrows twitched. He could have sworn the plushie’s legs ended in purple fuzz, but now they sported hard caps like a horse’s hooves. Kinda pudgy to be a horse, he corrected himself. It’s more like a pony.
Somehow the thing managed to blush through the purple fuzz on its face. “I’m sorry!” it said in a low voice. It shook its head as if suddenly realizing something important. “Where am I?” it asked, sounding young, feminine and somewhat upset.
He decided to continue the charade. “In my house,” he replied pleasantly.
Despite his congenial attitude, the pony's expression grew more distraught. In fact, it looked to be on the verge of tears. It plopped heavily onto its haunches.
Abashed at the pony's distress, and not wanting to alarm it any further, George approached and sat down carefully on Louise's side of the bed, his hands in clear sight and flat on the covers to either side. He looked down at his left hand, long fingers splayed over the cover where Louise had slept. He couldn't remember if he had ever sat there before. Isn’t it strange, he thought, that in a whole lifetime together I've never sat on her side of the bed? Closing his eyes, he stroked the quilted surface absentmindedly as he searched his memory. Louise would sit on his side all the time. He’d complained that she would wrinkle the covers and that he’d have to straighten them again.
The sound of a sniff drew him out of his memories. He looked back up to see a huge tear strike the dresser top. Head low, the pony shook as it wept quietly.
Though he was proud of not being considered by others as overly emotional, George was not one of those people who could ignore another's pain, even that of an animal. He even felt bad about damaging objects, as if they had feelings. Louise had said she loved that about him.
“Hey, there,” he said in a gentle voice, “what seems to be the problem?”
“I...” Huge watery eyes looked into his. “I can’t remember,” the pony replied, sounding horrified. She was most definitely a female. And very young. Her voice reminded him of his daughter Clarice’s in her early teens. George was also one of those people who could not ignore a child in distress, and being a father and then a grandfather had made dealing with the tears of a child achingly familiar territory.
“You can’t remember what, sweetie?” he asked, leaning closer.
"Anything." In her eyes, he read confusion, fear, and loss. "I can't remember anything!"
Another sob wracked her tiny form, and without giving it a thought he wrapped his arms around her. Purple hooves clung to his sides and a small head burrowed itself into his chest, its horn poking uncomfortably over the heart. The little pony shook as it cried.
"Hush, hush..." he said and stroked her dark blue mane.
Sometime later, he felt movement in his arms. She pulled out of his embrace, face damp with tears, looking lost. He took out his handkerchief and gently wiped the ragged wet fur until it was mostly dry. On impulse, he placed the cloth over her nose, into which she obligingly blew. "There's a good girl!" he said and patted her shoulder gently. Just like Sophie. He smiled as he folded and put the handkerchief back into his pocket.
She puffed her cheeks and blew out a long breath. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
George chuckled. “I know the feeling!”
The pony’s smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes.
“My name is George, by the way,” he said.
“I...” Her smile wilted. “I can’t remember my name,” she concluded miserably.
“Really?” George picked up the tag that now lay on the dresser’s surface. The piece of red plastic that had formerly connected it to the plushie was nowhere to be seen. “It says right here your name is Twilight Sparkle.”
He opened the folded card and held it in front of the pony’s face. Her eyes widened.
“You’re right!” she said with wonder. “I don’t know how, but I’m quite certain that Twilight Sparkle really is my name!” A genuine smile finally graced her tiny muzzle. “Thank you, Mr. George!”
He put the tag back down.
“You’re welcome, Miss Twilight,” he replied.
“Oh, you can call me Twilight!’ she grinned up at him. “All my friends do...” Her grin disappeared. “My friends...” she repeated, sounding perplexed. “I can’t remember them either! But I know I have friends –” she nodded emphatically “– I’m sure I do!”
He nodded his agreement.
“Well then, please consider me as one more! And do call me George.”
Her smile returned and she shyly nuzzled his chest. “I feel so much better just hearing you say that, George.” She stepped back and looked up into his face, her expression earnest and somehow much less vulnerable than it had been seconds earlier. “Thank you for being a friend.”
Her unicorn horn glowed and the tag levitated up until it floated an inch from the tip of her nose. George gulped as she carefully scanned the label.
“Are... you doing that?” he asked.
“Doing what?” she sounded distracted. “Oh! You mean levitating that card thingy?” She blushed again. “Yes, it’s me. It just feels good to read my name.”
He blinked at the impossible sight. Words popped into his head, spoken in a heavy German accent: I see nothing! He suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for a fat and generally incredulous German prison guard on a popular TV show from his youth. He felt a momentary frustration that he couldn't remember the guard's name.
The tag floated back down to the tabletop as the pony laughed lightheartedly. “You have to wonder why there’s a trademark symbol next to it! As if anypony would trademark somepony’s name! I should ask...” She appeared lost in thought for a moment. Her ears suddenly drooped low.
How very expressive! George thought. He leaned closer. “What is it?”
She took a deep, trembling breath. “I just know there’s somepony I would normally ask about things like this. But when I try to see a face, all I get is... nothing.” Her face began to cloud over again.
George leaned closer to the pony. “Well, since I’m here, why don’t you ask me?” He raised an eyebrow.
The look she gave him was almost comically needy. “You can answer my questions?”
“Of course I can. For example, you can register your name as a trademark provided the trademark office considers it distinctive. In all my life, I’ve never heard of anyone else being called Twilight Sparkle, so I suppose it could be trademarked.”
A smile split her face almost from ear to ear. “That makes sense! Good answer, and thanks!”
“It was my pleasure!” he replied. “Are there any other questions you would like answered?”
Her expression grew serious again. “Yes, there are. Like, what am I doing here? And, why can’t I remember anything?”
He scratched his chin for a moment. “Let’s take things one step at a time.”
George usually preferred to consider carefully before voicing his opinions. Needing time to think, he glanced down. Inspiration hit. He picked up Louise's brush. "Perhaps you do need a brushing." He began to stroke through the pony's deep blue mane.
She seemed dubious at first, but then relaxed and even began to lean into the strokes. The motion obviously must have felt good as she eventually closed her eyes.
“As to why you can’t remember anything, well there are a lot of reasons why folks lose their memory. I’m sure I can find some articles on the internet about it.”
“The internet?” she asked, opening one eye.
He thought for a moment. “It’s like a huge library that you can access from a computer.” Her ears twitched when he spoke the word library, pulling a few strands of hair out of line with the rest. “If you like we can go look things up on my laptop. It’s in my office, the room just next door to this one.”
Her brow furrowed, and then she grinned. “I’ve just discovered something important!”
"What's that?" He put down Louise's brush. A few deep blue strands were now mixed in with Louise's blond ones caught in the soft bristles.
“The word library! Just hearing it and I’m trembling in anticipation! From the way it makes me feel, it must be one of my favorite words in the whole world!” She shivered and stamped a hoof. “Yes, I would really like to go look things up on this internet, whatever it is.”
“Is it okay if I pick you up?”
She looked at his outspread arms and nodded. “Say, you’re bipedal, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Mmm? Most of the time. Why’d you ask?”
She gazed internally. "I just... somehow, bipedal locomotion also gives me a warm feeling. I... there's something familiar about it, but just... smaller. And I don't have a clue why that would be." She growled through clenched teeth. "Ooh, this amnesia is so frustrating!"
“Memory lapses aren’t the end of the world, kiddo. Trust me on that one!” He chuckled and took her into his arms. She was heavier than he thought she would be, maybe some fifteen pounds or so, and solid. It felt like he was holding onto a medium sized dog. Definitely not a plush toy!
"Internet 101, here we come!" With a spring in his step, he carried her into the hallway and then to his office.
Despite the burden in his arms, he felt lighter than he’d felt in a long time. Screw Alzheimer’s! he thought with a wry smile. Company is company, even if it’s an imaginary purple horse!
His office was the smallest room of the house. It had served as both nursery and bedroom for their daughter Clarice until she graduated college and moved out to go work in New York City. It had then been converted to his and Louise’s office and filled with computers, files, and then anything related to work and study. Since Louise had passed he spent less and less time in here. There wasn’t that much e-mail anymore, and the little that he did receive was mostly junk mail.
He placed the pony in Louise’s chair. She looked quite small in it. He sat down in his own and pulled her chair close to his.
George lifted his laptop’s lid and hit the power button. Twilight’s ears flicked forward when the laptop made its startup sound. She stared at the device in awe.
“Looks like a typewriter. Does it make that noise every time you hit a key?” she asked.
“Depends on which program you’re running.”
He took the mouse in hand and opened the web browser. He clicked in the address bar and began to type.
“The arrow on the screen!” Her voice was full of awe. “You’re moving it with that little box!”
He sat back, his brows raised. “You’re an observant little pony, aren’t you?”
She blushed, and then the corners of her mouth turned down.
“What is it?” he asked, taking his hand off the mouse and leaning closer to her.
She seemed sad and embarrassed at the same time. “I feel like somepony’s already said that to me before, and I can’t remember her face either!”
“Hey!” he said, trying to restore her enthusiasm. “We came in here to find out about memory problems, right?” He pointed to the screen. “Let’s search on Google.”
He knew what had worked to cheer up his grand-daughter Sophie, and hoped it would work on the little pony as well. He pointed out the results of his first search. “Let’s check the Wikipedia article on memory first, shall we?”
"Memory, from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia," read Twilight in her schoolgirl's voice.
And she can read, too! George was amazed. I wonder how old she is?
“For other uses, see Memory (disambiguation),” continued the pony.
She read the entire article aloud from beginning to end, and he only interrupted her when she started reading the references.
“You see those bits in blue?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she replied.
He moved the cursor over the link to the article on amnesia and clicked. The pony pushed her muzzle closer to the screen and resumed reading excitedly. Then she turned back towards him sporting a huge grin.
“This is better than any library I could ever have imagined, even in my wildest dreams!”
He pointed at the laptop. “Why don’t you give it a try yourself?”
Twilight’s attention focused squarely on his laptop. As she studied his setup he suddenly felt embarrased. George, you idiot! She hasn’t got any fingers!
He was just about to reach back for the mouse when the horn on her head began to glow, as did the mouse and the keyboard. The mouse twitched, the cursor traversed the screen. He heard a clicking noise and saw keys being depressed.
So much for the value of fingers and opposable thumbs!
The screen flickered as pages flew by the screen in silence. The pony could obviously read very fast when she wasn’t reading out loud.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a notepad, quill and some ink, would you?”
“Uh, sure.” He leaned over and extracted a foolscap pad and a few pens from the desk drawer. “Although ink and quills went out of style when my father was your size! Will a ball-point pen do?”
“Sure!”
As he held out the objects they started to glow while still in his grasp. He let go when he felt a subtle tug.
“Thanks!” said Twilight brightly.
The pad floated at a fixed spot in the air just to the side of the laptop’s screen. The pen began to cross the page, laying down lines of tidy script.
How does she do that? he asked himself. Telekinesis?
He sat back in awe while the pony read screens faster and faster, taking copious notes. Every few minutes the pen would stop and Twilight would ask George a question or two, which he answered in hushed tones. It was obvious the pony was taking a very scientific approach to finding out why her memory had failed.
George, he thought, you have awfully rational hallucinations!
Three hours later he calmly reached past Twilight and slowly folded the laptop shut. The pony lowered her eyes as he did so, reading until the screen was no longer legible. She blinked twice.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, her ears drooping.
“My dear Twilight, it is time we stopped and prepared our dinner. The internet will still be there when we get back.”
She took a long breath. "I'm sorry, George. It's just that I've learned so much about how the human brain and memory function. What I've read should be mostly applicable to ponies as well, but in any case, I'm no closer to knowing what's happened to me. It's so frustrating!" She stamped a hoof, making her chair spin.
The chair made two slow revolutions before she extended a leg out, slowing the spin to a crawl. She grinned and pulled it back in, spinning faster. “At least Neighton’s laws of physics seem to work the same here, wherever here is.”
George caught the chair back, causing the pony to sway and grab his arm with a hoof. “In the quest to find your past, let us not forget your pasta.”
Twilight lowered her hoof, her expression incredulous. Then she snorted. “Snkkkt! That was a really awful pun! Snkkkkt, ha, ha!”
George beamed at the pony. “I knew a girl in high school that had exactly that same laugh.”
Twilight hopped off of the chair and onto the floor. “Sounds like a nice mare! Whatever became of her?”
His eyes showed just a hint of sadness. “Oh, I married her. We had a good long life together, and just a bit over a year ago she passed away.”
Twilight halted and her eyes grew wide. “And... this was her house, too?”
He nodded. "Yes, it was. But now we go to the kitchen, which in all of those forty wonderful years was mostly my domain." He rose and walked out of the office. The clip-clop of her hooves followed him into the kitchen.
“So, I was thinking of making veal cutlets, how do you like them?”
There was the cacophony of multiple hooves backpedaling on the floor boards. "WHAT!"
Oh, shit! thought George.
George was an accomplished cook, and after dinner, Twilight expressed great admiration for his culinary skills, despite her original agitation when she found out he ate meat. He had claimed ignorance that ponies were vegetarians. This was not a complete lie, he told himself, as who knew what plush ponies come-to-life would eat? Consequently, he had changed his meal plans to a big tossed salad served with cheese lasagna. The only subsequent awkwardness was when he tried to explain to Twilight why he didn't add any flowers into the salad.
He also had to admit that despite her small stature, she was nevertheless very handy to have around. She helped clean up and do the dishes, all with her telekinetic capabilities. In fact, she seemed quite eager to get the kitchen chores done post haste, which he correctly surmised was because she wanted to get back to surfing the internet. The instant he hung up his dishcloth and declared the job done she literally galloped off into the office.
The evening’s frantic web-crawling was not as kind to the pony as the afternoon’s had been. Her searching took on a frenetic quality, her note-taking grew faster and her horn-writing (as she called it) became increasingly sloppy. Her ears and head kept drooping lower as the clock approached ten PM.
This time it was she who closed the laptop’s lid.
“George, I’m beginning to think this is hopeless!” She fanned over a hundred pages of levitating notes over her head. “Most of these conditions require specialized medical equipment to even detect. Where can I get access to such equipment? And would it even work with a pony?” She hung her head low.
“I didn’t just look at diagnostics, George. I read up on how ponies are treated here. Vets! George, ponies are treated by vets! It’s just like... like...” Her jaw trembled as if she was trying to say something but nothing came out. When she looked back up heartbreak and distress again showed in her eyes.
“Arrgh!” she cried out and covered her face with her forelegs. “I hate this!” Sitting in the human-sized chair she looked very small and alone. George knelt next to her chair and put a hand on her back.
Her voice sounded so small and sad. “I can’t remember him, George! There’s somepo... someone, not a pony!” Her eyes welled up and tears began to flow. “There’s someone I love. My heart knows this, and I can’t remember anything about him, only that somehow, vets were involved, and that I’m worried sick about him!”
She turned a tortured gaze up into his, and he felt the incredible hurt in those huge eyes.
She raised a hoof to her chest. “And there are others. I can feel gaping holes inside of me where they were, but I can’t see them! They’ve disappeared, and I... I’ve disappeared along with them, George! One of those holes is me!” He wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head against his chest. He held her close as she sobbed and shook.
“Is any of this real?” Her voice cracked. “Will I ever get back my memories? Am I going crazy? Why can’t I make sense of this!?”
George was surprised by how strongly Twilight’s distress affected him. He had always been the calm, level-headed type. It was part of what had made his marriage to a high-strung person like Louise work so well for both of them.
It took him a moment to get his roiling thoughts in order.
"Twilight, I haven't known you long, but let me tell you, I know a rational, ordered mind when I meet one. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but after just one day in your company, I feel as if I've known you for years. You have the strength inside of you to weather this. Trust in yourself. And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to help you recover what you've lost."
Huge lavender eyes stared into his. The frantic edge of desperation slowly faded to mere sadness and exhaustion.
“Thank you, George. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for your friendship!” Her muzzle dropped as she took a trembling breath.
“I am at an impasse,” she said, her voice quivering. “I read some stories on the internet. There are no other species on Earth capable of speech, and most certainly not the local ponies. If I just trotted into a hospital and asked for help they would no doubt take me into custody and very likely do experiments on me, like the monstrous enigma I am in this world. I haven’t a clue what I should do next.”
George gently lifted her chin until she glanced into his face. “Twilight, if you remember anything, remember this: you are not alone. We’ll face this together.”
He held her tight and rocked her until the trembling stopped. No doubt exhausted from the day’s emotions, the pony fell asleep in his arms. He gazed down at her. He hadn’t felt this way since Sophie was a toddler. Fearing that she might panic if she woke alone, he took the pony to his bedroom and placed her tiny form against Louise’s pillow. He wasn’t sure if, despite having a coat of fur, she might feel cold in the night, so he placed a folded wool blanket over her body.
Putting on his pajamas, he lay in his spot in the huge bed. The pony’s distress still weighed heavily on his mind, so he listened to her breathing, as he had so often done with Louise. To the rhythm of her respiration, he finally drifted off.
The alarm rang and George reached over to turn it off before Louise...
His hand paused over the snooze button as the bleak reality of the past two years rolled over him, a wave of cold and sadness that sucked the very life from his bones.
Another day without you, he thought, and despite the terrible certainty of her death he couldn’t help but turn slowly over and reach onto her side, the very first thing he had done every morning since the heat of her presence had taken its place at the center of his world. He knew all his hand would find is cold sheets and her absence, but he could not prevent his limb from doing the ritual, no matter the bitterness of the outcome. Reaching out to her had become a part of him, and to lose it would be losing another piece of Louise. His hand slid over the cold fabric and encountered warmth...
George opened his eyes with a start. He looked to Louise’s side of the bed and saw purple fur and a dark blue mane protruding from under a wool blanket. Images of the previous day played in his mind.
The pony!
It all came back to him. How yesterday he had found Twilight on Louise’s dresser. About her lost memories and furious search on the internet. And her disappointment that, after all that research, she still had no real clue as to what had happened to her, only a bunch of different hypotheses that she was unable to disprove.
His movements must have awoken her. She shifted under her blanket and turned her head towards him. Huge violet eyes stared out at him.
“Good morning, George,” she said in a rather determined tone of voice.
“Morning, Twilight,” he answered. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “And I’ve been awake for a while. I’ve had some time to think.”
“You have?”
Another nod. "I'm not doing myself or anypony else a favor by wallowing in self-pity. I'm sure in my heart that's not what anypony back home would want, either, even if I can't remember the individuals themselves."
“I think that’s a very rational, mature approach to this whole situation,” he said, mirroring her nod.
She smiled briefly. "And even if it's not Equestria or even the same planet, then at least according to the pictures I saw yesterday, it's in the same galaxy, the Milky Way."
George smiled back. "But then, what if everyone calls their galaxy the Milky Way because they all look like someone poured milk across the night sky."
She snorted. “I suppose so!” She raised an eyebrow. “Or at least all worlds with mammals on them. No milk, no Milky Way, right?”
George laughed. “Most logical. And no buttermilk pancakes either!”
The mention of food made the pony’s stomach grumble.
“We are wasting daylight,” declared George. “Shall we get up and prepare us some breakfast?”
She nodded and blushed. “But first, can you show me to the little filly’s room?”
He laughed and pointed to the other door in the bedroom. "Old humans like me generally don't wander far from one. You may use the pink towels. In the basket on the sink, there's guest soap, guest toothbrushes, and guest toothpaste."
She hopped off of the bed. The door to the bathroom glowed as it turned inwards. She froze in her tracks. “Humans have plumbing, right?”
He burst out laughing. “Yes. If you have any trouble with the fixtures just give me a shout.”
She nodded in relief and hastily trotted into the bathroom. The door shut just as hastily.
Eighteen hours without a pee. That girl has some bladder!
Twilight insisted on making the pancakes. She sat on a chair at the table, using her telekinesis to call to her whichever object she needed. It was an absolute wonder to George. She did huff and puff a bit when she levitated the twenty-pound bag of flour from the pantry. She smiled in gratitude when he grasped the glowing bag halfway to the counter and held it over her mixing bowl.
"Two cups, please." She chuckled. "Everything's bigger here! Why usually I can lift objects that weigh a lot more than I do without even breaking a sweat! I even lifted an Ursa Minor once..." She froze as her gaze turned inwards.
"A memory?" he asked.
"Just a shadow of one, I'm afraid." She grimaced. "It's like... it's like I'm peeking over somepony's withers, and catching just a line or two from a book they're reading before turning away." She shrugged and resumed stirring the ingredients in the bowl.
"Can... every… pony from where you come from levitate things?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Heavens, no! Only unicorns like me can do horn magic like levitation. Pegasi and earth ponies have other types of magic."
"Magic," he repeated the word. Ever since he’d heard the word used to explain things people didn’t understand he hadn’t liked the word. "I was hoping there was a more... rational explanation for your... ability."
She laughed brightly. "What do you mean, George? Of course, magic is rational! It follows well known laws -" she levitated a skillet from the drawer under the range and placed it on one of the elements "- and ever since the development of the scientific method by Starswirl the Bearded -" she squinted at the legends next to the knobs and the right one turned to high "- it has been properly studied, classified and codified." She smiled and poured two large ovals of batter into the pan.
"Oh," replied George. "So, moving heavier objects is harder?"
"Of course! You can't circumvent Neighton's laws of motion!"
Dishes flew from the cupboard onto the table.
"Neighton... Er, and you get the energy from where, exactly?"
She turned around and faced him, a bemused look on her face. "From the local ley lines, of course! This is basic masses moving through fields of force, George. Don't humans know about this?"
He started laughing. It took him a moment to regain his aplomb.
"What's so funny?" she asked, tossing the pan and flipping the pancakes.
He smiled bemusedly. "Well, for starters, we don't have it."
"Don't have what?" Syrup, butter, and utensils joined the plates on the table.
"Magic."
Twilight’s brow furrowed. “You’re kidding me, right?”
He shook his head.
Her gaze drifted. “Well, there are lots of sentient creatures who don’t.” When her attention shifted to the counter her eyes lit up. "George! Is that an espresso machine?"
The sudden change of topic caught him off-guard. "Er, yes."
The chair she was in dragged itself and its passenger noisily over to the counter and she placed both front legs to either side of the device. Peering over her shoulder, she grinned. "Can you show me how it works?"
I’ll just ask her about the other sentient creatures later, I guess. George got up to fetch the espresso beans.
That afternoon Twilight suddenly looked up from her ‘net surfing.
“George!”
He started, then grinned. He’d been nodding off in his chair. Oh, the pleasures of being old! he thought.
“What is it, Twilight?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Maybe we’ve been focusing on the wrong problem! Maybe what we should try to figure out first is how I got here and why.”
“Sounds reasonable. But then if you can’t recall events from before your arrival here–” he shrugged and raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“– we’ll have to go at it from the other side and see what you remember about it.” Twilight batted her eyelashes coquettishly.
“Bit of a smarty-pants, aren’t you?” George remarked caustically.
Her smirk faded. “Yeah... I think I’ve been called that before...” Her gaze turned inward.
Crestfallen at the sudden shift in the pony’s mood, George lifted a hand to his chin, hoping to draw her attention away from her ruminations. “Well, as I recall... I heard a noise in the bedroom. Then I went to investigate and I saw you there.”
A modest smile returned to Twilight’s muzzle. “And you said: That’s it, George, old man Alzheimer's finally called your number!”
He laughed. “Did I say that out loud?”
She nodded.
Twilight looked into his face, her expression earnest. "You know when you first said that I hadn't a clue what it meant. In fact, I wasn't even sure who you were speaking to." Her gaze filled with concern.
"Why are you afraid of Alzheimer's disease, George?" As he hesitated to respond one of her ears drooped. "I looked it up," she admitted in a low voice.
He shrugged. "There's a history of that disease in my family. At my age, I often wonder about it." He forced a grin. "So yeah, I think about it, sometimes. But my wife Louise taught me to never let future problems scare me out of enjoying life in the present, if you know what I mean!"
She placed a hoof gently on his forearm. “That sounds like pretty awesome advice, George. I think I would have enjoyed meeting your Louise.”
This time it was he who nodded. "It is good advice, but I'd be a liar if I said that it hadn't crossed my mind that I might be going down that track and that you might not... be real." He looked down at the purple limb covering his own. Maybe if you tell her this the magic will disappear, and she’ll be gone with it! The thought made him cringe. So, George, are you so lonely that you would abandon rationality and your moral convictions just for some company?! He pressed his lips together into a thin slit.
Twilight’s hoof suddenly rose to jab him in the ribs causing his head to snap back.
“Ouch! What was that for?” He rubbed the spot where he had been poked.
She sported a lopsided grin. “Are you convinced I’m real yet?”
He grinned back. “Touché, literally!”
The silence stretched between them as Twilight's gaze turned inward. Her brow furrowed. "George, did you see or hear anything unusual before you found me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nope. You seemed to have appeared from nowhere...” His eyebrows rose. “No! That’s not right.” He frowned in concentration. “You... you replaced... something.”
Her ears swiveled forward. "I replaced something?
"Yes. Uh, before I found you on the dresser there was a plush toy." He felt a blush of embarrassment that he had almost decided not to tell her. "It was left by my granddaughter Sophie. It was a little pony with a horn, named Twilight Sparkle."
Her eyes went wide with shock. “That paper! It was a label.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“So, what does that make me? A foal’s doll?” Her ears hit the back of her head, and her expression became almost manic. “I have no memories, just vague impressions as if I was some cheap simulation of a pony! Maybe I’m the one who isn’t real!” She suddenly bit down on her right foreleg.
“No!” George shouted, and pushed his hand between her teeth and her hoof and stroked her neck with his other hand. When the manic look left her eyes and she turned her head away he pulled back his hand from her hoof. “Never doubt that, Twilight!” He continued to stroke her neck. “When Louise died, everything just felt unreal. How could this happen? It wasn’t real. None of it could be real. I wasn’t real. I didn’t want... to be.”
She swallowed. “How did you... come back from something like that?” Her head was still turned away.
He sighed. “It was my granddaughter Sophie. She and her mother came to stay with me those first few days after. Barely three years old, Sophie hugged me, and kissed me, and made imaginary tea and cookies for me. She made me real again.”
“I’m glad for you, George. I really am. You’re very fortunate to have a granddaughter like her. But I don’t have a Sophie to prove I’m real, George.”
“No,” he soothed. “But you have me. I noticed you were real the first time I touched you. You are flesh and bone. Your weight makes sense for a pers… er, pony, your size.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Even if I had a hard believing it myself, you eat, drink, and leave a stink after you use the washroom.” He looked at his hands. “If I’m to believe the evidence of my senses, you are a living being, Twilight, not something I imagined. And even if somehow, for some reason you replaced that plushie, it doesn’t make you one iota less real.”
Her ears rose only slightly, her expression showing that she wasn’t fully convinced. “A plushie had my name on it, George,” she replied quietly. “How do you explain that?”
“I can’t. But we can try to find out.” He turned back to the laptop, feeling dread as he said the words. “How about you type your name into the search bar.”
She faced the screen and he heard the clicking of her magic depressing the keys.
Three hours later, she turned away from the laptop’s screen. Her name had led to several sites, some of them fan related, some of them from the producers of the TV show My Little Pony. Some of the pages led to YouTube videos of actual episodes from the series. They had watched several of them in silence.
Twilight broke the silence first.
“If I’m to believe this, then I’m nothing more than a fictional character in a series of short animated movies for foals,” she said.
George was crestfallen. “Twilight, I –”
“What’s left to say, George! The evidence is clear!” She seemed to sink in on herself. “I’m a figment of some human’s imagination! I don’t really exist!”
The manic expression was coming back into her eyes when George reached over and taking one of her ears between his fingers pinched as hard as he could. A blast of telekinetic force pushed his hand back.
“Stop it, George! That hurts!” cried Twilight, tears dripped down the fur of her face.
He took her muzzle gently in his hands and looked her straight in the eyes. "Tell me, Twilight. If you didn't exist, would that have hurt? What do your senses tell you?" He wiped the tears from her face. "I'll tell you what my senses tell me. You're real. You're sitting in my wife's chair, and even if I can't explain how or why you are undeniably there. There is no other rational conclusion."
She took several halting breaths and touched a hoof to his own face. It felt damp. He sniffed. How did my cheeks get wet? he thought.
“No,” she said gently. “I can’t deny what I see with my own eyes and feel with my own hooves.” A smile broke through the clouds.
“We are rational beings, you and I George.” She waved in the direction of the laptop. “We may not fully understand what’s going on, but we trust our senses, our intellects, and our friends.”
“We do.” He nodded and took a deep breath. “Do you want to see the rest of those cartoons about you and your friends?”
“If you don’t mind, George, no, I don’t.” She sighed. “It just reminds me of everything I’ve lost.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
"The movies showed some physical impossibilities and even some questionable magical practices. They seem to have taken a lot of liberties with the truth, and I can't tell what might have actually happened from what was fabricated for entertainment value. George, I don't want to risk contaminating what little of Equestria I can remember, shadowy as it is. And I don't want to replace the real Spike and my other friends by some hack writer's caricatures of them."
He nodded. “I think I understand.”
“Thanks.” She slipped out of Louise’s office chair. “If you don’t mind, I think I need a nap before dinner.” She trotted over to the cot he had added into the room earlier that day and lay down.
“Sure. Rest well, Twilight.” He rose and shut the light on the way out.
Twilight raised her glass of cider. "I've been here over one week, and we're no closer to finding out why I'm here or what's happened to my memory." She took a thoughtful sip. She much preferred cider to the dry French wines George favored.
He raised his glass. “One week of your delightful company, Twilight, though you know I wish it were under different circumstances. It’s nevertheless a great gift to a lonely old man.”
Her expression softened as the corners of her lips raised slightly. "And I don't want to come off as an ingrate, so, thank you, George, for your hospitality. I couldn't imagine anypony, or anyone, who would have received me any better under any circumstances." Her expression softened. "However, I'm beginning to think –" her face clouded over "– that maybe there is no easy way back for me, that... that I might be exiled here for some time." She gazed into his face. "What am I going to do, George? I can't go on freeloading off of you forever!"
George chuckled. “You can do what you want, Twilight. But, I hope you’ll consider staying here.” He grew serious, as he considered how much his life had changed since her arrival. He put down his wineglass. “You’re not a burden to me, quite the contrary. With Sophie living with her dad in California and Clarice living in Frankfurt, I am in a severe deficit of good company.
"Twilight, before your arrival I dreaded the morning. Not because I didn't want to get up, not because I feared the burden of the day, but because I had so little left to do in my life that every day was another chain of wasted hours, dragging me down implacably towards the end of my days. I wasn't dead but wasn't alive, either.
“Since you’ve been here, I’ve been... living again. There’s no other word for it! I enjoy each minute of every hour like the precious thing it should be, and come to the end of the day wondering where the time went, eager for the next day’s sunrise.
“I’m being totally selfish in telling you this, and I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you I hope you do recover your memory and find your way home. In the meantime, please consider this your home.”
The pony put down her own glass.
"Thank you, George. I'd be honored." She blushed under her lavender coat of hair.
George felt his cheeks grow hot as well.
Must be the wine!
“Well. That was a long speech. Did I mention you have full access to the internet here at no extra charge?”
“I’m grateful for that too, George. And I vow to carry my weight around here, even if that’s not very much compared to yours!”
He took another sip of wine. “And you are a passable sous-chef, which is a novelty after forty years of cooking by myself.”
As she lifted her own glass he tilted his head, looking bemused, as if his words had triggered another near memory.
“Twilight. I could swear you look bigger. Have you grown again?”
She scanned the area around her. “Come to think of it, I seemed to feel that something was different this morning.” She slid from her chair and trotted out of the kitchen. Before disappearing into the corridor, she turned her head. “Are you coming?”
He rose from the table and followed her.
When he got to the office he noticed her standing against the doorframe, passing a pencil across the top of her head. It left a line on the doorframe.
She stepped away and he saw another penciled line over two inches lower. She turned and saw the difference for herself.
“Wow! That’s at least a ten percent increase in height!” She stepped back. “George, could you stand in the doorway?”
“Sure.”
"He saw the pencil rise in the air and felt the lacquer of its stem touching the skin of his crown.
“Okay. You can step away now.”
He did. Looking up he saw two pencil marks virtually one on top of the other.
Twilight took out one of her notebooks and scribbled some lines with the pencil. “Changes in the control group within the limits of measurement error. Change in the primary group is confirmed at eleven-point-five percent.”
She put down the notebook. "Sharp eye, George! I did grow again." She signed. "These growth spurts are just one more mystery on top of all my other unresolved issues."
“Not to mention being somewhat in violation of conservation of mass,” replied George.
“Oh, not really,” said Twilight. “Sure, growth magic is hard, and Starswirl the Bearded proved that the mass was actually converted into or taken from the field strength of the local ley lines. In essence, the mass is either extracted from or stored into the local arcane field. That’s how he deduced his famous equation A equal mc squared, where A is the arcane energy, m is the mass of the object and c is speed of magic in a vacuum.”
George opened his mouth but then thought better than to retort.
“So, my size difference could be due to variation in the local arcane field strength, but –” her eyes lit up “– this could only be the case if my mass is still under the influence of the spell that was cast to bring me here!”
She jumped up into her chair. Her horn glowed and the pages of one of her notebooks began flipping rapidly.
“Do you know what this means, George?” she grinned as she found the page for which she was looking.
“Actually, I haven’t a clue,” he answered, mystified.
“It means I have a possible way to get information about who sent me here and why.”
“Oh! That’s absolutely... amazing” said George, as he watched her at work. He kept a smile on his face when all he could really think about was losing her company.
It was a long evening. She was still at it three hours later when he said goodnight and went to bed.
George awoke and after a quick trip to the bathroom made his way to the kitchen. In the hallway, he saw the door to Twilight's room still open. She was asleep on the floor, surrounded by pages of notes displaying arcane equations and strange notations. She had shown him some of these previously and he couldn't make head nor tails of them.
He gingerly stepped over and carefully gathered her up. Damn! She’s gained pounds as well as inches! Luckily her cot was close by so he didn’t have far to move her. After laying her in the bed he pulled a blanket up over the sleeping pony. She probably pulled an all-nighter! He stepped silently out, closed the door behind him and went to make a quiet breakfast of cereal and milk.
Just before lunch, he heard the hallway bathroom door shut. A few minutes later there was the sound of the toilet flushing. A moment later Twilight shuffled into the kitchen.
She stood at the entrance to the kitchen displaying a ragged demeanor, with crusted eyes, a disheveled mane and tufted bits of fur coming out in random places.
“Coffee,” she croaked, her voice sounding like gravel and broken glass tumbling in a concrete mixer.
George pointed to the counter. “Just made a fresh pot. Have a seat and I’ll pour you a mug.”
In lieu of an answer, she shuffled to the table and looked up at the chair in distaste. Without another word, she dropped to her haunches and appeared to be examining the wood grain in the kitchen table's leg.
George hurriedly brought her a cup of coffee, and after pouring in a good four teaspoons of sugar set it down on the chair next to the pony. She stared at it almost angrily for a moment and took the cup in both forehooves before bringing it to her lips. He let her take a few sips in silence.
“S’strong!” she commented without looking up. “Good.”
It didn’t take long for the caffeine to take effect. Her horn glowed and the cup rose to the table. Twilight hopped up onto the chair. “Thank you, George.”
“You’re welcome. And good morning, Sunshine!” he said. “Please forgive my candor, but you, my dear, look like reanimated roadkill!”
“Send the complaints to my publicist,” she replied.
He slid a plate of buttered toasts towards her side of the table. “So, Twilight, did you make any progress last night?”
She was a while answering as toasts floated over her plate while a glowing knife slathered them in strawberry jam. "In a manner of speaking. I was able to determine that the ley lines used for the spell are still engaged with the alicornium in my horn. The funny thing is, instead of leading me to the pony who cast the spell, they all seem to loop back to me."
“And what implications does this have on your being able to return to Equestria?”
“I’m not sure. It’s almost as if I cast the spell myself...”
“And?” he prompted.
"Or it's the result of a major spell going wrong and backlashing onto the caster." She took a long, slow breath, and for the first time since she entered the kitchen made eye contact. "George, there's a good chance I did this to myself, in which case the only way I'll ever get free of it is if I can remember enough of the spell to reverse its effects. I can plot out some of the elements based on a few tests. Oddly enough, there appears to be a temporal sub-cantrip involved! As to the rest, there are literally thousands upon thousands of possibilities. It may take years to work through them all."
“Did you say years?” he asked.
She nodded and took another gulp of coffee.
"Well, look on the bright side," he said. "I do have an espresso machine."
“Snkkkt!” replied the pony.
“And free internet,” he added.
“Snkkkkt. Ha, ha!”
“Serious caffeine and unlimited access to an entire planetary library! What more could a purple unicorn ask for?” he said with a grin.
She shook her head. "Lavender. And not much, I guess, other than a friend," she said as a grin spread over her features.
He grew serious. “And Twilight, you can take all the time you need. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands, and I’ll do everything I can to help. You can rely on me. I hope you know that by now.”
“I do. And thank you, George,” she said. Still smiling, she levitated another piece of toast onto her plate as her knife dipped again into the jar of marmalade. She spread the confection over the slice of bread and took a bite. As she chewed the glow seemed to come back into her features. She batted an ear.
“You know I –” her eyes grew wide as her gaze drifted over to the toaster and her reflection in its mirrored surface. She swallowed audibly.
“Omigosh! Is that how I look?”
He put a finger to his chin. “What were the words I used when you came in?” He gazed into the distance. “Oh, yes. Reanimated roadkill.”
She took one more look at the toaster, gasped in fright, and galloped out of the kitchen.
“You’re welcome!” he called to her departing form with a laugh. The bathroom door slammed shut.
George looked at the clock and sighed.
“Quit doing that!” Twilight stamped a hoof.
George huffed. “When you’re a grandparent you’ll understand.” His expression turned grim. “Besides, not to sound too crazy or anything, but I don’t want this to be the last visit from my daughter and grandchild. There’s no way for me to explain a small talking pony, and there’s nowhere else I can bring you on such short notice, so you’re going to have to hide in my bedroom closet the entire time they’re visiting.”
Her ears drooped comically. “But, George! What if I need to” – she blushed – “you know...”
“Hmmm...” He scratched his chin. “I’ll always use the bathroom in the master bedroom, as should you, but you should always wait until I’m in the bedroom and shut my door.”
The ears dropped even lower. “But hiding in the closet? For two whole days!?”
He bent over and rubbed the space between her ears with his knuckles. “You’ll manage, kiddo. I’ve put a large cushion, a bunch of your favorite snacks, a gallon container of water, and my laptop in there. We both know you’ll just spend the entire time surfing the net! You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug!”
She shivered. “Somehow that bug analogy really rubs me the wrong way.” She sighed. “But I guess I’ll have to leave figuring out why for later.”
Just then the doorbell rang.
“That’s them!” He extended his right hand, fist closed and pointed slightly downwards.
Twilight regarded it a moment, then bumped the cuticle of her hoof against it. “Have a good time with your family,” she said, smiled and paced silently into the closest. The door glowed and the door shut quietly behind her.
George walked briskly over to the front door and opened it wide, revealing a young dark-haired woman, two suitcases, one large and one small, and a four-year-old girl with blond braids wearing a t-shirt with candy colored ponies all over. The child ran into his waiting arms.
“Grandpa!” called Sophie, with the boundless enthusiasm of the very young.
“My, how you’ve grown!” he exclaimed, picking her up in his arms. “I can hardly lift you anymore. Next time I’ll have to put you in a baby carriage!”
The girl laughed. “No way! I’m way too big for a baby carriage!”
His brow furrowed. “Okay. I guess I’ll have to get a really big baby carriage then!”
Sophie seemed put off for a moment, and then a huge smile blossomed on her lips. "Hey! That's like a princess' carriage!"
George laughed out loud. “My word, I think you’re right!”
Sophie squealed in delight as Clarice approached and hugged George on his unencumbered side.
"Hi, dad!" she said and leaned in close.
He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “Hello, sweetie. I’m so glad you could come!” He gestured towards the hallway. “Come on in.”
Clarice picked up the suitcases and entered, with George and Sophie following closely.
"So how was the Hyperloop?"
“Booorrrinng!” complained Sophie.
Clarice nodded emphatically when George looked up in disbelief. "You can hardly feel a thing! No kidding, it's just like a long elevator ride." She sighed. "It's magic, but it's boring magic after the first five minutes."
George raised an eyebrow. "I guess that explains Elon Musk heading off to Mars. The Earth is just too boring these days." He pointed down the corridor. "Just put your things in the office... er, I mean the spare bedroom, dear."
“Sure thing, dad.” Clarice smiled. She set the bags down next to the inflatable bed George had set up for them.
Sophie took a look inside and immediately ran out. “Where’s Twilight?”
George froze, eyes wide. “Twilight?” he managed to croak out.
Clarice chuckled. “That’s the pony toy she gave mom at the hospital. For some reason she stills remembers it! She was barely three when it... happened. I told her you’d brought it home.” Her brow furrowed in concern.
George rubbed his bald forehead in relief. “Ahem. I do remember it. I think I put it away. Hmm.” He scratched the back of his head. “I must’ve put it away.”
When Sophie’s small face began to cloud over, he bent over his granddaughter. “She must be in a closet somewhere. Tell you what – I’ll look for her tomorrow. But now, it’s time for getting supper ready. Macaroni, Ham and cheese! And I have it on good authority that just like your mom, you like it very much!”
Sophie nodded. But her face amply advertised her disappointment.
George poked her gently in the belly. “And... I bought a whole gallon of Jamocalatte Almond ice-cream!”
At the mention of her favorite dessert, Sophie's smile finally returned.
“Dad! You’re spoiling her!” Clarice winked at him.
He stood up straight and nodded. “I know,” he said deadpan. “I take this grandpa thing seriously.”
Clarice chuckled as he took Sophie by the hand and led them into the kitchen. "Say, did your mom ever tell you about how I invented macaroni, ham, and cheese?" When the toddler shook her head, he picked her up and sat her on the kitchen counter.
"Well, you sit right there with your mom watching you, and I'll show you how to make it while I tell you both how it all happened." With a smile, he turned to the pantry.
“Psst. George!” Twilight’s whisper called from the closet, its door opened barely a crack.
"Shhh!" He motioned with a finger over his lips, hoping the gesture actually meant something to a being without fingers. He then pointed to the bathroom door. There was a flash from within the closet, then the bathroom door shut with an audible slam, there was the click of the door lock and the sound of the ventilator turning on.
George sat down on the bed to wait.
Then minutes later, the bathroom door opened a crack and a huge violet-irised eye peeked out from the gap.
“It’s okay!” he mouthed silently. Twilight opened the door wider and with a hoof beckoned him inside.
George entered and shut the door behind him. Twilight sat on her haunches on the counter and pointed at the closed lid of the commode. George sat down and crossed his arms, looking at the pair of plastic hooks on the inside of the door from which hung Twilight’s towel and his own.
“How did you get into the bathroom from the closet so fast?” he whispered, barely audible above the ceiling fan.
“Er... I teleported.”
“That’s impossible.” He turned to look in her direction.
"I'm sorry!" She smiled sheepishly. "I usually would never risk a non-line-of-sight teleport, but my bladder simply couldn't wait a second longer!" Her eyes narrowed. "And besides, what took you so long? You were supposed to come to bed almost two hours ago!"
George felt heat wash over his face. “I’m the one who should apologize! After we put Sophie to bed Clarice and I got talking, and then things just turned to Louise and we got to sharing memories, and then... I just lost track of the time.” He rubbed his face in his hands then turned towards her, his expression earnest. “Really, I am sorry, Twilight. I was being... selfish.”
The anger in Twilight’s eyes morphed into deep sadness. “No, George. Of anypony, I understand how precious it is to remember.”
His eyes widened. "Oh, geez, Twilight, I didn't mean to be so insensitive, sweetie." He wrapped her in a hug. "Tell you what. To make up for it, tomorrow I'll sneak a cup of espresso in here just for you!"
Twilight’s body trembled as she huffed a quiet laugh. “George, you have no idea how good that sounds!” She raised a single violet eyebrow. “Sweetie!? That’s what you call you daughter! Does that mean you consider me an honorary daughter?”
He patted her back and straightened his posture. "Only as long as you'd like to be, and if you promise to explain to me how this teleportation business makes any physical sense.” He pointed to the door. “But right now, if you don’t mind, sweetie, you’re not the only one who’s spent the last half hour squirming on the edge of her chair.”
Twilight’s cheeks glowed a bright pink. She waved a hoof. “Bye, George!” Her horn flashed and she was gone.
The next morning was an absolute delight for George. Morning ablutions tag-team style with Twilight went off without a hitch. Both of them checked to be sure there was no evidence left behind of her passage in the bathroom, just in case either of the female humans entered it for any reason. When they were done, Twilight retired to her closet, promising that her research on the internet would keep her well and happily occupied, despite the enclosed circumstances. George promised to come by more often for bio and friendship breaks.
Breakfast was an adventure in pancake making with a four-year-old, followed by more reminiscences with Clarice about Louise while Sophie played in the kitchen. It was almost lunchtime when the toddler entered the kitchen singing the words "my little pony" repeatedly to the opening theme of the TV show.
George was surprised that he hadn’t seen her leave the kitchen. Feeling nervous that he’d again let his reminiscences get the best of his attention, he opened his arms and Sophie ran in for a hug.
“And what were you up to, young lady?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just playing with my favorite pony, Twilight Sparkle!”
George swallowed. “Oh, really? Where was she?”
“In the closet in the big bedroom. She was reading some stuff on her computer. But then we talked and played some quiet games together. It was a lot of fun!”
George looked at Clarice, who smiled back as if nothing strange had happened. Over Sophie's head, she mouthed "Imaginary friend".
George nodded. “I’m sure it was, honey! But do your old grandpa a favor and always ask before you go into his bedroom, okay?”
“Sure!” said Sophie seriously. “I Pinkie promise! Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” She mimed crossing her arms, flapping her arms and smashing the heel of her hand in her right eye.
George looked at the performance, keeping a straight face. “Hmm. And you know, young lady, that Pinkie promises are... Forever!” he declared, drawing out the last word a ridiculously long time. Sophie added her voice to his.
Clarice burst out laughing. “So that meme has even made it to the retired set, I see!”
“I’m old, but not clueless, Clarice.” George projected mock offense, making both daughter and grand-daughter laugh even more.
“Yeah!” added Sophie. “Twilight said grandpa is pretty bright for a monkey.” She tittered in delight as George crossed his arms in mock umbrage.
“Hmm.” He looked down at the toddler. “Speaking of monkeys. Who’s up for a trip to the zoo?”
Sophie squealed in delight.
George motioned to Clarice. “I guess we’d better get going then.”
They rose and left the kitchen in a cloud of giggles and high-pitched anticipation.
George tapped gently on his closet door. It opened a crack, and then more fully.
Twilight sat on her haunches, looking up at him expectantly. “How was the zoo?” she whispered.
His serious expression melted. “It was... wonderful!” He carefully sat down on the floor next to the pony.
“So. How did my granddaughter end up playing with you?”
Twilight's ears curved downwards and she smiled sheepishly. "Uh... I was reading about data structures being developed for memory storage for artificially intelligent systems when the closet door opened and... there she was!" She spread both forelegs wide in a fuzzy Gallic shrug.
"She looked at me for a few seconds, and then started talking as if we were old friends. She asked me what I was reading and if it was a story." Her right hoof scratched her chin. "Before I could think of a way to describe artificial intelligence to a four-year-old, she came in, sat down next to me, gave me a hug and started telling me a story, and it was really such a good story, George, and she was just so adorable, and such good company...” She stopped speaking to take a breath and stared at the floor.
"And you were lonely, and she is very good company, despite being a four-year-old child," finished George.
“I just didn’t have the heart to send her away.” Twilight shook her head in misery. “I hope you can forgive me.”
He nodded. “Of course, I can, Twilight. It’s just...” He sighed. “We’ll have to be ten times more careful now. Maybe it’s a good thing this is a short visit.”
She looked up into his face. “Oh, George! I can understand now why you’d prefer it to be much longer.” Her eyes widened. “I hope you’re not thinking of cutting their visit short on account of this!” When he didn’t answer immediately she rose to all fours and placed a hoof on his arm. “Trust me, George, I’ll be much more careful from now on. I swear.”
His eyebrows rose, and then he grinned wickedly. “Pinkie swear?”
She looked at him aghast as he mimed the gestures Sophie had done.
“George, not you too!”
He laughed gently. “I asked Sophie to always get my permission before coming into my room again, and I told Clarice that Sophie must have found that plushie she gave Louise in my closet, where I’d forgotten I’d put it away, and that it’s safe for her to play in there.”
“Can you trust a filly her age to keep that commitment?”
George nodded and winked. “She made a Pinkie Promise. And as we both know, a Pinkie Promise–” he leaned over whispered into her ear “– is For-e-verrrrr!”
Twilight pulled back and hid her eyes in her right fetlock. "This closet is hereby declared sane adult only territory for the rest of the evening, George. Unfortunately, that means you will have to leave.”
He stuck out his tongue, rose, waved bye-bye and shut the door behind him. Her snort was audible through the thin door, drawing a smile from his lips as he went to prepare for bed.
“Twilight, it’s me,” whispered Sophie.
The door to the closet opened a crack.
“Sophie, did you ask your grandfather first?” was the breathless reply.
The girl nodded. “Uh–huh!”
Twilight opened the door wider and the child entered. She shut it tight behind her. She sat on the floor in the same place she’d occupied on each of her prior visits.
“We’re going back home now, so I came to say goodbye.” She opened her arms and hugged the pony, whose eyes bulged in the toddler’s tight grip.
“Thanks!” wheezed Twilight. “And say goodbye to your mom for me as well.”
“I will,” said the girl in a distracted tone of voice. Letting go of Twilight, she sat unmoving on the floor.
The unicorn tilted her head. “Is there something on your mind, Sophie?”
“Uh, huh.” The toddler bit her lip. “Mommy called my Daddy last night. She said she was worried that Grandpa was all alone.”
Twilight thought her somber expression looked out of place in one so young. She smiled reassuringly. “But he isn’t alone! I’m here with him, aren’t I?”
The child gazed seriously into her eyes. “Mommy said she was worried Grandpa would have another happy-sode. What’s a happy-sode? Why did Mommy sound sad when she said so?”
Twilight hoped her grin hadn’t faltered. She put a hoof next to her muzzle and wrinkled her forehead. “I think the word is episode, Sophie. And, that’s grown-up stuff little kids shouldn’t worry about.”
The toddler did not seem entirely convinced.
“And you can take care of Grandpa when mommy and me go home?”
Twilight nodded emphatically. “I’ll do my very best!” she declared.
“Pinkie promise?”
Those words brought up so many feelings in Twilight’s chest. She leaned over and nuzzled the child. She rose to up onto her hind legs and her forelimbs moved of their own volition.
“Cross my heart, and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” she intoned.
Twilight was so glad to see the clouds leave Sophie’s youthful features. The child stood and with a last quick hug, was gone.
Twilight realized that she would miss the girl terribly. With a sniff, she shut the door and waited for George and his family to leave.
“Good morning, sunshine!” George called over his shoulder as Twilight clip-clopped into the kitchen.
"Good morning, George!" The mare headed straight to the espresso machine and began setting it up for her morning dose. In the last few weeks, she had developed the habit of making them both café-au-lait for breakfast. She didn't even bother asking George if he wanted one anymore.
"My goodness, that smells good!" She rose onto her hind legs and peeked into the skillet where George was almost finished preparing a cheese-and-spinach omelet.
George cut the omelet in two with a spatula and placed one-half on a plate that floated in the air next to him. Once filled it flew to the table and another plate took its place. Twilight jumped onto her chair just as George took his. Her fork glowed and she dug in. After her first bite, she smacked her lips. "Mmmm, that's good! And you made a lot of it, too!"
"Thank you!" He winked as he turned off the stove. "That's because you're a growing filly Twilight. And speaking of growth, what's the latest measurement?" he asked.
"Thirty-eight inches at the poll," she replied, floating two steaming cups of coffee from the counter to the table. She sipped hers and sighed contentedly. "Based on my records, my growth spurts seem to be slowing down. According to my projections, my weight should stabilize very close to the average for a human female in a week or two at the most."
"And what would that be?" he asked, taking his own first sip of the fragrant beverage.
She arched a single eyebrow. “Well, taking into account differences between regional averages, as well as the tribal differences which for some reason humans call races, as well as how the average weight of a human female varies over her lifespan –”
George’s bedside alarm echoed in from the hallway.
He burst out laughing. “Saved by the bell!”
Twilight glanced sheepishly at the kitchen clock. "It's only six-fifteen. We were a bit eager to start the day, weren't we, George?”
“Well, at least I was!" He said. "I don't know why I bother to set my alarm anymore. Of late, I just can't wait to get up and greet the day."
Whistling a lively tune, he rose and went to turn off the alarm. He stopped by door, and turned back, looking confused. Head low, he scanned the kitchen until his gaze alit on the refrigerator, at which point his expression cleared and he made a beeline to the refrigerator.
"So, what do you think of omelets for breakfast?" He called over his shoulder as he extracted a carton of eggs. Looking over his shoulder, he froze when his gaze fell on Twilight's surprised face and the remains of their breakfast still on the table.
He frowned, lips a thin slit.
"Tomorrow," George said in a low voice. Face ashen, he put the carton back into the refrigerator then stood immobile, his hand trembling on the refrigerator door.
"George, I..." Twilight began, but then she saw his jaw tighten and his face redden in anger. She put down her utensils. "How about I clean the kitchen, George," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah. You do that." Without another word, turned and left the kitchen. The door to his room closed. A moment later the alarm turned off.
Twilight took a deep breath. The remains of breakfast rose in a glowing swarm that flew into a compact mass in the sink. With a final glance towards the corridor, Twilight set to cleaning up.
Twilight knocked on George’s bedroom door. “Do you have a moment?”
It had been quiet so long that she'd begun to think he might have fallen asleep. She was turning on her hooves when the door opened. She pivoted back.
George’s expression was grim. "It looks like my symptoms are getting more frequent. You... deserve the whole story." He waved her in.
As usual, only George's side of the bed shows any sign of usage. Twilight sat on Louise's side and he sat down beside her.
"You don't need to tell me much, George. I've shared a bathroom with you for three months. I've read the labels of your prescription drugs." She blushed and grinned sheepishly. "You left the bottles on the counter in the bathroom, and I didn't always think to bring in stuff to read. Then Sophie told me her mother had mentioned about you having episodes. So I looked up your prescriptions on the internet."
Her ears drooped as he continued to stare straight ahead in silence.
"Please forgive me that breach of privacy, George."
She was relieved when finally he nodded, still without saying a word.
His left hand reached over to take hold of her right forecannon. She could feel his trembling. She leaned against him and his arm went around her.
“Same thing happened to my dad,” he said. “I could see the shame and the rage on his face when he noticed he’d slipped up.”
“You don’t have to feel ashamed with me, George. I’ve already forgotten a whole lifetime.”
“Thank you for understanding,” he whispered.
