Spilling Ink

Of course what Sugar Belle said remained on Ink’s mind. Of course it did. Why the hell wouldn’t it have? Of all the lamebrain, random, volatile things to throw out in the open…

Did the girl want to fight her? No, Sugar Belle didn’t seem like the type. Was she jealous? Maybe. But she was dating Mac, so what difference did that make?

Who are you trying to convince? Her, or yourself?

She was sitting at her desk again, staring out of the open windows into the fields below. The laptop was still closed. She made no move to open it, nor to work on the document, nor to really do anything with it— it was simply there because she had no other place to put it. With the windows open the sun was streaming through them. The snow was melting and dirt was beginning to show. It was a good Thursday afternoon, a freed one, and she had done all her homework so she had nothing left to do but sit here.

Gaige and Hazel were busy so she couldn’t hang out with them. She thought about visiting her mother, but did not know if she really wanted to see that which she had seen seemingly a hundred times before. And Mac… Mac was gone with Sugar Belle. Sugar Belle, who had been the one to say all that…

Ink shook her head. They were just words. It didn’t matter what Sugar Belle said. Even if Ink had no idea why she had even bothered saying it.

She leaned back into her chair, sighing. But what was she to do, then? It was Thursday, but the hour was already slipping by. Soon it would be dark and then the day would be done.

She heard knocking on her door. “Come in,” she called.

“Er, hi, Ink.” That was Apple Bloom. Turning in her seat, Ink saw the bow-tied girl with her hands clamped together in front of her demurely.

“Oh, hello, Apple Bloom. What’s up?”

“Oh… nothing.” She leaned back and forth on her toes, looking everywhere around the room. “I, uh, see you’ve done some home decorating.”

Ink followed her gaze. She hadn’t really done much; cleaned up the dressers, moved the bed a little to the side. She’d taken a flyer of the Rainbooms performing and pinned it to one of the walls, just to make up for the drab appearance.

“A little,” she agreed. “It… helps, sometimes.”

“Uh huh.”

Still Apple Bloom glanced around. Once she had finished, she gazed then at Ink. “Yer, uh, hair’s gotten pretty long, don’tcha think?”

Ink brought a hand up and felt her hair. It had been growing like a weed, as of late. Whereas days before it was just touching her shoulders, now it was starting to grow past them. It was an odd thing, feeling it touch her bare shoulders. Sometimes it felt like she was wearing a different person’s wig.

“It’s longer than usual,” she murmured. Instantly she remembered the hospital, her mother waking up, the pain.

Apple Bloom continued to rock back and forth on her feet. Ink looked away, looked back out the window, at the dirt fields, at the path that circled through dead trees to where that sole tree stood always. She wondered if the tree was looking back.

“Can I cut it?” Apple Bloom blurted.

“Can you… what?”

When Ink turned around, she saw Apple Bloom blushing furiously. “I was just… uh… you know,” the poor girl stammered, “because it’s so long and I think you’d look better with short hair—uh, not that you look worse with long hair, just—well, I mean…”

Her voice fell into distant murmurs. Ink watched her carefully. “You want to cut it,” she said slowly, as if she couldn’t believe the suggestion had been made.

Wordlessly, Apple Bloom nodded.

“Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Sure. I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard to cut it down to the right length, if you have the right tools—”

She was dragged suddenly into the bathroom by the now invigorated girl, her arm nearly being pulled out of its socket with how enthusiastic Apple Bloom was. A seat had already been set up with a stool taken from the kitchen, and here Ink sat down, her hands naturally folding into her lap. Apple Bloom draped a blanket around her shoulders (“A blanket?” Ink asked, to which Bloom replied, “We didn’t have no fancy barber cloaks.”) and fastened it to her.

“This is great!” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “Y’know, my cousin Babs Seed wants to cut hair someday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! She’s pretty good at it, too! And I always wanted to try it out, at least a little…”

“So you wanted to test it on someone not from your family?”

Apple Bloom started. “That wasn’t—”

Ink cut her off, giggling slightly. “I was joking, Apple Bloom. It’s fine. Besides, my hair is easy, and if you mess up or cut off too much, it’ll all grow back and then maybe you can try again.”

Here, the younger girl brightened. “Oh, okay! I’ll get started then, just hold still!”

***

She must have been taught by her cousin very well, Ink found herself thinking shortly after Apple Bloom had started. She had expected a few cuts, some scrapes, an awkward hand with scissors, but to her surprise the younger girl handled herself as a semi-professional hairdresser. This Babs Seed must have been one heck of a teacher.

“So just short, right?”

“Yeah,” Ink managed to say, coming out of her reprieve. Apple Bloom nodded, then brought the scissors behind and began her work once more.

For the most part they were both quiet. A radio was playing soft music in some other area of the home, and with the open window in the bathroom, they could hear some birds chirping.

“So… you and Braeburn have been getting real chummy lately.”

Ink raised an eyebrow. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“But isn’t that how it is? Like, you two have been on dates and all that, right?”

“A… few, I guess.” In truth she wouldn’t have classified any of what they had done as “dates.” They hadn’t even really been out to dinner. Not like how she and Mac had, anyway.

Apple Bloom nodded, coming over to her side and brushing her hair with the comb. “He’s a nice guy, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“But not as nice as Mac.”

If Ink had been drinking something, she would have spat it out, and she was lucky to have the diligence not to jump out of her chair in shock. “Uh,” she said.

Apple Bloom didn’t give her a chance to talk further. “I mean, sure, Braeburn’s a real nice guy, but he don’t compare to Mac, I don’t think. Like, Braeburn would give you the time of day, sure. Most guys if they’re good would, wouldn’t they? But Mac’s different. He don’t talk much but he makes his silence mean something. I think that makes him very nice, don’t you?”

She was smiling at her in the mirror’s reflection. Ink chewed her bottom lip. “They’re both very nice,” she said carefully.

“Uh huh! Y’know, I bet that if I had two guys like that pining for me, I wouldn’t be as calm about it as you are.”

Ink stumbled forward, nearly falling off of the stool. “W-What?!”

Bloom pulled her back. She was grinning, but a bit sheepishly; a secret had been revealed. “Yyeah, sorry. I kinda thought you already knew. At least Braeburn, you know, cuz he’s so obvious about it.”

Ink struggled to regain her composure. “W-well, it had crossed my mind that maybe… but that’s besides the point— Big Mac?”

“The one and only!”

“You’re kidding me, Apple Bloom. He’s… he wouldn’t—” And then she hit upon a solid epiphany. “He’s with Sugar Belle right now!”

It was solid, all right; solid as concrete is solid before the river overtakes it and shatters it to pieces. For as soon as the words exited her mouth, they filled her being with a sudden painfulness, flowing all into and around her.

This effect was missed by Apple Bloom, though, for her face had darkened and she had to look momentarily away. “Yeah, I guess he is, ain’t he?” she mumbled.

Another unanswered topic. One that Ink decided was now worth exploring. Still, Bloom’s obvious discomfort made her uneasy. She remembered those many nights before, when Applejack had first spoken of the Belle girl. It was perhaps a family secret. Could Ink really ask for it to be revealed? Or was it better to let old things be? What could she choose?

In the period of silence that was shared between them, Ink made her decision.

“Apple Bloom… what happened between Sugar Belle and Big Mac?”

She regretted instantly bringing those words out. The darkness in Boom’s face deepened, her face making long lines that should have been impossible for a girl her age to have—they were the lines that only those who had faced some sort of incredible trauma could ever manage to create. But in the darkness shone her eyes, bright and fierce and intense, shining with passion and anger as memories danced before her.

“Nothing good,” she said, echoing the words Applejack had uttered seemingly aeons ago.

She put the scissors down. She began to peel back the pain, one sentence at a time.

***

Sugar Belle and Mac were in downtown Canterlot, where the shops were smaller but the sights were just as splendid. They were passing the many shops there that were open and had their Valentine’s Day specials going on when Sugar Belle stopped them both in front of a certain store. It was a small store, with not many customers inside at this hour, but it had piqued her interest anyway. “Let’s go in there,” she said to Mac, and they went in.

“Welcome!” the store owner greeted, a young lady of pure white skin and cerulean eyes that seemed to dance at each step she took towards them. “How might I be of service today?

“Er, we just wanna look around first, if that’s all right with you,” Mac said, caught off guard by the woman’s excitement.

“That’s perfectly fine! Please let me know if you need anything or if you have any questions!” Then she returned to helping another customer.

This was a milliner shop. It sold hats that were custom-made, and the styles were wide and varied. While Mac appeared a little lost, here Sugar Belle at least knew a little. She let her fingers linger across the fedoras and bowlers and trilbies, the top hats and flats, the wide and short ones. She stepped into another aisle while Mac wandered aimlessly behind her. She was happy to have him close, to have him knowing she was still there, still the center of his attention, as things should have been.

She stopped to admire one of the cloches. “What do you think of this one, Mac?” she asked. She didn’t really think he would have an opinion, but this was something couples did, she figured, asking each other their opinion even if the opinion didn’t really matter. Really she was just happy to include him.

“Er… it looks nice, Sugar Belle.” He was distracted by some other hats whose names he probably didn’t know. She put the cloche back, sighing a little. Her mind wandered.

She, as she had always done ever since yesterday, thought back to what she had said to Ink. Had it been too much, too intense? She really meant no harm to the girl; in fact, she rather liked her. If they had to know each other more, she figured they might have even been something resembling friends. But as it stood, she was a distraction for her Big Mac, and she needed to be reminded that he was with her, Sugar Belle. At least, that was the justification Sugar Belle had come up with, and at the time, she believed it. But now, twenty-four hours later, she couldn’t be so sure.

She glanced back at Mac and smiled when she saw him still looking at the hats. This was what she did to regain her convictions. He was hers, and so long as that was the case, then everything would be fine. Indeed, everything would be fine, so long as things remained as they were now. She turned away and returned to looking over the wares.

Mac mumbled something to himself. She didn’t catch it. “What was that?” she called.

“Aw, it was nothin’,” he said. “Jus’ thinking to myself ‘bout something.”

“What, about the hats?”

“Yeah, about the hats.”

She could have giggled. Oh, she had missed this. Him following her as if led by a string, thinking of what she was thinking. How wonderful was their connection. In that moment she forgot all about what she had said to Ink and enjoyed the simple fact that Big Mac was in her company.

They continued to peruse the items there.

They were there for a little while. The store owner came by and gave suggestions to Sugar Belle, talking about more cloches and fezes; these suggestions Sugar Belle took readily, before relaying to Mac what the owner had said, him becoming more than a little confused but never saying or implying he wanted to get out of there or otherwise leave her behind. Once or twice the store owner mentioned the Valentine’s Day sale they were having. Mac responded readily and heartily. Sugar Belle could have kissed him then, oh, she could have kissed him then!

“Uh, pardon my interrupting,” Mac intoned then. He got the store owner’s attention. “What’s this here hat?”

“That?” She came over. She let out a gasp. “Oh! That’s our prized sunhat; it’s a one of kind, believe me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Why, because Moody Marin herself made and designed it! Listen—” And she proceeded to tell him all about the schematics and exacts that he didn’t understand, but that he listened to anyway, all while Sugar Belle watched. “Let me tell you,” the woman said, “it’s super comfortable. Anyone wearing it would love it.”

“It is a very nice hat,” Mac said. He was smiling down at it. Sugar Belle decided to get closer to take a closer look.

It was a bit big, even for his massive hands, and was the color of fresh snow—snow that had been peppered with hints of light blue, she thought. A salmon-pink ribbon was wound tightly around the top, coming down to the sides like a limp arm. It was a pretty hat. Very nice, as Mac had put it. She agreed with that sentiment.

Still, though, she wasn’t sure she would ever wear it. A sunhat was, she felt, an old lady’s hat; you wore it when you were gardening, or when you couldn’t take the sun, or when you were old and frail and had short hair and couldn’t be bothered to grow it out. She did not want it, though it was very nice. She tugged on Mac’s arm. “It’s a very nice hat,” she said, “but here, look at this particular cloche, Mac—”

Mac didn’t budge, even though she was pulling quite hard. “Mac?”

“I’m thinking,” he murmured. “Don’t let me stop you, Sugar Belle, it’s fine.”

It was not fine but she had no idea how to tell him that. So she stopped tugging and looked up at him.

“With the Valentine’s Day sale, it comes to a very affordable price,” the store owner said. Oh, she could have punched her for saying that; why did she have to say that?

Mac rubbed his chin. “True. But, does that mean—and maybe this might sound a bit foolish on my part—but does that mean I have to buy it for Valentine’s Day in particular?”

“Why, of course not! You can buy this hat for whatever occasion suits your fancy!” Here the store owner smiled brilliantly. Here, Sugar Belle really wanted to punch her in the face.

“It is a very nice hat,” Mac murmured. “I bet Ink would like it.”

Sugar Belle’s heart sank. No! Not again!

The store owner turned to her. “Would you like that, Ink?”

“Oh! I-I’m not—”

Even Mac had the decency to blush. “Oh, er, no, I mean… This is Sugar Belle. Ink’s another friend.”

Oh, good… wait, what does he mean by “another friend?”

The store owner nodded understandingly. “I see. Well, whenever you make your decision, you can come up to the front.”

She placed an arm on Sugar Belle, still smiling. “Your man is a very generous person, isn’t he?”

“He sure is,” Sugar Belle said, forcing a smile that was unnaturally wide. The owner didn’t notice.

When she was gone, Belle turned to Mac. It was time to convince him of this foolishness. They had other things to do then just buy a silly hat. But before she could say anything, Mac interrupted her. “Do you think Ink would like this?” he said. “I think she’d look good in a sunhat, don’t you?”

She was, for a moment, at a loss for words. Then she forced a shaky smile. “I think… that whatever you get her, she’d love. Why? What’s the occasion?”

“I think her birthday’s coming up,” he said. “Plus… I dunno, I want to cheer her up, or at least try to. It’s silly, I know,” he added, rubbing the back of his head. “But, I gotta try, right? Otherwise I ain’t doing right by her and I’d kick my ass down the road later if I didn’t try.”

He smiled. It was so calm and so simple. It was the smile that had won her over. But he wasn’t smiling at her with it, now. He was smiling at the hat. No, she realized belatedly. At Ink.

There’s still a way, she thought. There has to be! She’s still with Braeburn, so…

“Here,” she said, taking the hat from Mac. “Let’s buy it together. It can be our gift to her, from the two of us. How does that sound?”

“Hey, that sounds great, Sugar Belle.” He gave her a quick hug. Only that? But she forced the thought aside, and kept on smiling as they made their way to the counter.

The hat came cheap and there was hardly a dent in their wallets, but now there was some emptiness in Sugar Belle’s heart that wouldn’t go away for days to come.

***

They finished cutting Ink’s hair—Apple Bloom did, anyway. They also finished the tragic tale, and, having finished it, found they, too were also finished.

Ink’s hair lay on the floor in a pile of purple. Apple Bloom grabbed a broom and swept it all up while Ink stared at her reflection. She would have been admiring the great job Apple Bloom had done in restoring her hair back to its normal length had she not been so caught up in what had been said.

No wonder Applejack and Apple Bloom resented Sugar Belle re-entering their lives. After what she had done, how could anyone ever think to hook up with her again? Yet Mac had. And there was obvious resentment from the Apple sisters there.

But even then… Ink could not say that the Sugar Belle from Apple Bloom’s story was the same Sugar Belle she had met. Oh, yes, there was drive, there was the same passion, and it was clear that she felt very strongly for Mac. But the idea of a vindictive, controlling, toxic girl, playing with Mac’s heart? Villainesses like that were rare, in Ink’s experience (really the only people who fulfilled that role were the Sirens, and even then, they were three out of a buttload of otherworldly phenomenon invading their world), and even with, what she had seen from Sugar Belle, counting their most recent conversation, she could not say that they were the same person. Something must have changed; or perhaps Apple Bloom was wrong in some way; or maybe it was a combination of the two; or something else entirely.

Still, she had on her mind now the same thing that had been on Bloom’s mind: how could Mac be dating Sugar Belle for a second time, now, knowing what she had done, knowing what she had put him through? How could anyone, in their right mind…

Maybe he’s in love with her, Ink thought. The thought came with a stab of pain, regret, and a sense of heavy loss. But it was a good thought. Maybe he was in love with her; and maybe that love made him do things like that. They couldn’t fault him for loving who he loved, could they? Could she? Could anyone? Who had that right?

The heart cannot help for whom it yearns… Who had said that? From where had she heard it? And, more importantly, why did it sound like she was telling herself that?

She brought a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating rapidly even though she was sitting still.

“Thanks for cutting my hair, Apple Bloom,” Ink said, getting out of the chair. Better to put those thoughts away for now, she thought.

The younger farm girl didn’t immediately answer, which Ink took as a sign that she could leave.

“He deserves better,” Apple Bloom said. She had finished sweeping. “Mac, I mean.”

Ink paused in the doorway. “I know.”

“Someone who ain’t about to throw him to the curb like he’s nothin’. Someone who loves him for who he is, not because it’s easy or convenient, but because it’s true love and the only kind of love that matters.”

Ink smiled. “Prose, right? I guess you like him.”

Apple Bloom nodded, but she wasn’t done yet. She was staring at her, at her reflection, the broom clenched tightly in her hand. “He deserves someone better,” she said again, her voice going soft. She put the broom aside. “Someone like you.”

The little girl left, leaving Ink with her mess of thoughts.