“She was one heck of a mother, that’s for sure.” Applejack said as she nursed a whiskey, “Lovely mare as well, always made sure to ask after ‘Bloom whenever she came to get apples at the stall.”
It wasn’t a lie. Applejack was known to be a straight shooter and it was a reputation built on solid fact. What Applejack did do, nowadays, was allow herself some fluidity. Now removed from her headstrong younger days, she had come to appreciate things could be based on truths with a little flair.
Cookie Crumbles had always seemed nice, and had asked after Apple Bloom most times she came to the stall. This was likely because the two of them had little in common save for their families being friends. She was lovely, to Applejack’s knowledge, would have been a truer statement.
But this was a wake, and sometimes decorum came first.
She didn’t know the stallion she was talking to and he didn’t know her. He was a lime green pegasus with a thick Cloudsdale accent. Turns out he’d been an old friend of Cookie’s from their university days. Suffice to say, another obvious outsider who wouldn’t quiz him too harshly was exactly what he’d sought out.
But he was an earnest sort, and seemed genuinely troubled by Cookie’s death. As Applejack half-listened to his reply, she saw Rarity ducking out of the pub. While not catastrophic, this was a strange development. Rarity had been busying herself with being a consummate host throughout the funeral and wake. For her to leave like this was significant enough for Applejack to find the first gap in conversation and politely excuse herself.
She followed, and shot Pinkie a glance that said ‘I’ve got this’ when she saw the mare making her way over as well. The party pony was second to none at cheering ponies up, but this didn’t really seem like a ‘cheer-up’ kind of problem. When Applejack got into the open air, she was confronted with the sight of no one. She bit her lip, trying to push away images of having to escort a tearful Sweetie Belle back to Carousel Boutique because her sister had left early.
However, she was soon stirred from this line of thought by the sound of a dainty cough from around the pub. She walked in its direction, and when she turned the corner Applejack saw Rarity looking embarrassed, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth.
The two of them remained in this stalemate for a while, until Rarity broke the silence.
“Promise not to tell anyone?”
“Filthy habit,” Applejack chuckled, walking to lean against the wall and taking the cigarette Rarity offered her.
“Oh please,” the unicorn bit back, magically lighting it for Applejack, “They’re menthols.”
Each of them puffed away in comfortable silence. Considering Applejack was half expecting to find Rarity in floods of tears, this was a pretty easy thing to deal with.
“Didn’t take you for a smoker, Rarity,”
“Pre-deadline, post-deadline and funerals only. The big three, as I call them,” she retorted, and Applejack tittered with gentle laughter.
“Gotta say it’s nice to talk to you out here, away from it all.”
“Is there something wrong with ‘in there’?” asked Rarity, and Applejack felt a sting of sadness at the earnest worry in her friend’s voice.
“No no, it’s just… Wakes are supposed to be the breath after the drop, you know? You bury someone you love, and then you’re allowed to kick back, have a few drinks and remember the good times for a while. Least that’s the way I always saw them. Ma and Pa’s was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to, even if I was hurting still.
“Everyone’s having a great time Rares. All of Cookie’s favourite foods, favourite folks, in her favourite pub. I know you don’t like this kind of scene all that much but… you did her really proud. The problem is that the rest of us can only have that kind of relief when someone else makes it all happen. Ain’t much fun for the unlucky pony who’s gotta do that. And that’s you, isn’t it? But out here, just me and you, you don’t have to be that right now.”
Rarity looked forward for a second, and took a small drag of her cigarette.
“Thank you, Applejack.”
Her response wasn’t surprising. Part of why she came out was because of how strange it was to see Rarity leave mid-way through. She was a ‘sweat the small things, stare down the big things’ kind of mare. Made of tough stuff, tougher than most. Tougher than Applejack when it came down to it, though the farmer would never admit it of course.
“So, can I ask something without you rolling your eyes?” Applejack asked.
“I make no promises until I’ve heard the question.”
“It’s the kind of question I’ve gotta ask twice, first time never quite sticks. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay Applejack. Hanging in there, as they say.”
“Okay, this is where the second time comes in,” Applejack began, “Rarity, how are you doing? Really?”
“I needn’t tell you what it’s like to lose a parent Applejack. She was my mother, for all she didn’t understand fashion and couldn’t cook a meal to save her life, she was still my mother, and I loved her more than I could ever explain.”
“Second time always works,” Applejack added with a small, sad smile, which Rarity returned.
“For the record, I don’t mind putting on the wake. It’s a nice distraction from everything else. There’s a lot I want to talk about, and don’t. There are more ponies depending on me than there are who want Rarity to air all her feelings. I count one, as is.”
“I want that,” Applejack offered.
“Exactly. I counted one.” Rarity countered with a raised eyebrow, prompting Applejack to laugh.
“Even now there’s no one who can quite make me chuckle like you, Rares. But there ain’t no one out here who’s depending on you to be strong either. Is this what all this wake focusing is then, a distraction from your mum?”
“Applejack, everything I’ve done the last couple of weeks has been to do with my mother’s death. How could I ever be distracted from it putting on this party? Sweet Celestia, to have something to do that isn't to do with it, even for ten minutes... No, it’s my new position. You are now looking at Rarity, executor of the state of Cookie Crumbles, let all gasp in awe.”
Applejack went to respond, and realised only after opening her mouth that she had nothing to say. She really hadn’t expected that to be what was bothering Rarity, though it made sense.
“I remember when Ma and Pa went, me and Mac and Bloom had to go looking through all their things with Granny Smith. It was awful. Like digging up their graves.”
“Yes, and do you remember if anyone else was there?” Rarity asked.
“Well, there were other family members waiting around too.”
“Hmm,” Rarity replied, taking a long drag, “I bet Granny Smith wasn’t happy that day, was she?”
“Well of course not.” Applejack said, feeling slightly confused.
“No, I don’t mean she was sad. Of course she would have been sad. Was she angry, though, Applejack? Did she look at those family members with glares as she took you around?”
“I… uh. Gee Rares I don’t really know. Didn’t notice anything, that’s for sure”
“Of course you didn’t,” Rarity replied, turning to look at Applejack with a kind, tired smile, “It’s a testament to Granny Smith that you didn’t. I have done that walk-through with Sweetie Belle, Applejack, and I’ve been Granny Smith. Those ponies in there, not the girls, not all of mother’s old friends, but the ones related to us. The distant cousins and uncles and ponies four times removed ten times remarried and so and so forth, they disgust me.”
“Huh,” Applejack offered impotently, suddenly very uncomfortable with the line this conversation had taken, “Ain’t that a little extreme, Rares?”
“Not all of them disgust me, Applejack, granted. Not every single individual, but more than enough. Mother had quite a bit saved up, you know? She was an engineer before she retired, went to university in Canterlot. All ponies saw was the hideous trousers and regional accent, but she was quite a brilliant mare in her own way. She was the breadwinner, not my father, and he was more than happy to support her.”
Rarity’s teeth ground as she discarded her spent cigarette and lit another.
“And she made sure she never let it go to our heads, so she earned this amazing wage and still gave us a normal childhood in a normal cottage in Ponyville. Not wanting, but not spoilt. I loved her, Applejack. And now the ponies I used to love are here to fight over her remains. When I did that walk-through with Sweetie Belle, making sure she was able to pick out everything she wanted of mother’s.
“Many of them, the lowest of the low, were there waiting for Sweetie to be done. Everytime she picked up something one of them had their eye on, they’d glower at her. A child. I made sure everything they slavered over as we walked through was picked, by Sweetie or myself. Just to spite them, and I’d do it again.” Rarity snarled, lip curling in fury, “Bits turn ponies into monsters, Applejack, even those you thought you loved. And the worst of it hasn’t even begun. The will reading is on Friday.”
“Damn it Rares, I really had no idea. I suppose I’ve never lost anyone since Ma and Pa. I can see why you’d be angry. You don’t… I don’t know. I was gonna say you don’t need to do anything you don’t want, but the whole situation is something you don’t want. I guess I’m just trying to say… I think it’s more than okay that you’re mad.”
Rarity stayed tense for another second before her shoulders slumped.
“I’m not mad, Applejack,” she admitted, with a small, nearly imperceptible sniffle, “I’m sad that ponies I thought I could depend on turned out to be this way. Uncle Brightwood, I loved him when I was a filly. He used to visit and bring me around a big bag of sweets every time. He took me to watch the trains and he was kind. When Sweetie said she wanted to keep mother’s record player and vinyl collection, because they used to play them and sing together, my uncle looked at her like he wanted to scream. She’s a child, Applejack, she’s barely keeping it together as it is and he’d deny her that memory of her mother if he could.”
Rarity stared out at the village. On the horizon, dark clouds were starting to gather. It was going to rain soon.
“I’m scared that this is what it’s like now, Applejack. I’m in a world without my mother, there’s no part of me that can cling on to being a child anymore, not when I need to look after my father. Like I'm the parent. That joy feels lost to me, and I miss it nearly as much as I miss her.”
“Rares… I…” Applejack spluttered, trying to find words that would make this better while knowing there weren’t any.
“You don’t have to say anything, Applejack, really. There's nothing to say," the two of them took more puffs of vaguely mint tasting smoke as the storm clouds coalesced in the distance.
"You were right, for what it's worth, Applejack. I did need to talk. I’m not looking forward to Friday, but it’s life. I’ll be okay. I had a lovely childhood, but it’s time to do my last bit of growing up. It had to happen some time, after all. I just wished I'd gotten a bit more time. I wish she'd gotten so much more time.” Rarity said. She leaned in and kissed Applejack lightly on the cheek, before stubbing her cigarette out and starting the walk back in, “Come on, ponies are going to wonder where we got off to. Won't it be a scandal if they find us out here smoking."
“Rarity,” Applejack called, resolving to give the one piece of advice that felt appropriate, “Don’t let any of those sons of bitches push you around. Not ever.”
“Oh Applejack,” Rarity laughed, and neither of them needed to talk about the film of moisture than had coated her eyes, “Did you ever expect I’d do anything different?”
Applejack laughed and made her way to Rarity, before slinging a hoof around her neck and holding her close on the way in. It didn't matter whether she needed it or not, it felt right. As they got to the doorway, the tension broke and the rains finally began to fall. Even as she hit Rarity, she didn't even flinch. She just calmly got inside and lightly shook off whatever beads of moisture had managed to stick.
As Applejack had thought, tough stuff indeed.
