Sour Notes

[

***

The next morning, I woke up to a sight of a white hoof, hanging over the edge of the bed next to me. It felt to me as if everything that happened since yesterday evening was just a dream and I haven't woken up yet. That is, because as nice as it was, it wasn't a reality I could stay in.

I knew my place.

I knew it well.

Nonetheless, I was happy about what happened; it energized me with even more will to live. Plus, I’d had wine with my mistress and it hadn't restarted my alcoholism. Not sure what would happen with me if I had a line of coke but I knew it was safe for me to have an occasional drink. Which was more than good enough for me.

With a smile on my face, I was about to creep out of the room belonging to the sleeping white mare. I felt grateful for what she had done for me yet I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I must have been almost out of the door when I heard her voice behind me:

"Anon..?"

"Yes mistress?" I turned around.

"Leaving soon, I see."

"I didn't want to upset you by staying too long. I understand that yesterday's privileges were just temporary. You said it yourself."

"You're a good boy, but you don't have to be this cautious about your behavior... " She rubbed her eyes and gently yawned, covering her mouth. "It was a really nice evening and I'm happy you were there to keep me company."

"I feel the same way about yesterday." I gently bowed her way. "And I really appreciate everything you're doing for me, Mrs. Note."

"Stop with the courtesies, Anon, please." She casually waved that off with a chuckle. "How about you help me with breakfast instead?"

I could see my mistress was in a very good mood that morning, almost frisky. She was treating me a lot less formally than usual, even occasionally joking around. It was almost as if she didn't go back from the way we were yesterday.

Still though, I was behaving the same as I always did; I didn't want to take advantage of her carefree state of mind. I knew that she probably wouldn't lash out on me for many things at this point, but maybe I was simply comfortable with treating her as someone who's deserving great respect. Those were my instructions from Mr. Scribble after all. That Mr. Scribble who was supposed to return this weekend and he surely wouldn't tolerate me behaving any other way than I did. I surely didn’t want to “slip” in front of him.

…

That very same day, my mistress made a call, ordering a real mattress for me just like she had promised yesterday.

She said it was “no big deal”, but it was a big deal for me.

The mattress arrived via mail on Friday, just a few hours before Mr. Scribble. I was just about to set it up when I noticed the stallion’s figure emerging from the forest.

"Papyrus!" Mrs. Scribble stopped whatever she was doing and immediately rushed to her husband for a hug.

He was really surprised to see his otherwise depressed wife this enthusiastic.

"Oh Lemon,... you're looking good today." He smiled in relief. "Even the black circles under your eyes have almost disappeared."

It was true. Throughout the two weeks, they had gone from looking almost like gothic makeup, to mere eye shadows. They never really left completely though, like scars reflecting her past.

"...I know, because I'm happy! And you're here too! Come on inside, Anon and I have made lunch for you!"

"Good day Mr. Scribble." I greeted the stallion as well, bowing a little as he walked past me.

I could see him stopping for a split second, deciding whether he should call me by my real name or the nickname to assert dominance:

"Anon..." He eventually nodded my way, letting me know was doing a good job.

It was a gentle gesture, but from this stallion it meant something.

Nonetheless, I was wondering if maybe I wasn’t doing "too good" of a job. On the other hand, I was supposed to keep his wife happy and I did, so he couldn’t complain.

...

The pair went to the kitchen and while I felt it might not be the best idea to join them, my mistress called me in anyway. I was summoned, so of course I arrived but I wanted to express what I thought. Before I could do that though, Mr. Scribble was faster:

"Dear, do you think it's necessary for Anon to eat with us?" He said to her just as I entered the room.

"He's been helping me with all kinds of things. I’ve even been to the city thanks to him. It's fair we at least invite the boy to our table." She answered quite casually, as it wasn't a big deal.

"It isn't really necessary, mistress." I smiled with growing awkwardness, cringing internally. "I wouldn't want to bother your husband with my presence."

However, I could see that she insisted, even if she didn’t repeat it. With a mere glance at Mr. Scribble, she let him know that.

"...Fine, let him take one of the seats here." He said after a few seconds of thinking. Surely the stallion didn't want to get into an argument.

Yet I felt a bit uncomfortable sitting there.

Only Mrs. Scribble, other times so perceptive but now maybe just purposely careless, seemed to be completely relaxed. She was chatting with her husband about all kinds of things as if there was nothing odd about it, trying to either make him ignore me, or accept my presence.

On one hand, it was nice of my mistress to try and make me a part of the family but I wasn't exactly asking to be there no matter what. Especially not if she’d try to force me in there against her husband's will. Mrs. Note, occasionally getting more formal when we were alone would have been enough for me.

"...So,... how have you been Lemon? You surely seem to be doing way better… What have you been doing the whole time?" Asked Mr. Scribble at some point.

"All kinds of things! We've been taking strolls through the forest almost everyday, reading, cooking, -Anon told me about a few human recipes,... and I've been teaching Anon how to play piano too! He's improving really fast; would you believe that humans can have so many talents?" She eyed onto me, as if she wanted me to say something as well.

"Mrs. Scribble is speaking way too highly of me." I blushed. "I'm only getting into the very basics of her art."

"Hmm, interesting…” Mr. Scribble levitated a spoon to scoop up a morsel from his plate but didn’t put it in his mouth just yet. “Was it your own initiative that you began, or was it my wife's idea?".

"Well, I-... am not really sure.” His direct question towards me made me feel somewhat uneasy. I hoped it was not a test. “I was really captivated by her playing and she offered to teach me... I think it was kinda both sided."

"I asked because my dear wife tried to teach me too, except I don't really have the patience for it and it's not exactly bringing me as much pleasure as it does to her. Sure, her playing is most exquisite... But I don't think it's for me." He glanced her way. "So, it seems you've found your apprentice."

I wasn't really sure what that look meant, if he was smiling, frowning or just plainly stating.

My mistress didn't seem to care; she just happily nodded.

"I see." His reaction was still neutral at first,... but then he smiled warmly. " Well I'm happy for you. It was excruciating, seeing you down all the time."

That one little smile felt like a big win for me that day.

I certainly didn't want to break families apart with my presence; it was nice to see I was still doing a good job.

…

After the lunch, I immediately offered myself to do the dishes so that my masters could have some time together without me. I've also tried to not get in their way for the rest of the day.

From what I could tell, they seemed pretty happy. When they went to bed, Mrs. Scribble was fondly brushing herself over her husband as if they were on their first date. I liked to think it was partly my success too.

***

The next day went in a similar manner, I was trying to give the pair as much space as possible while remaining useful and ready to be called if I was needed.

I spent some time practicing piano while my masters were together on their stroll to Old Loom; at least that’s what Mrs. Scribble had said to me before they’d left.

I’d never been to Old Loom with my mistress, since there was supposedly nothing interesting. There was a pub though, so I presumed they had gone there for a beer or whatever ponies drink.

It might be cider…I thought.

They didn’t return drunk though, so it was probably just a one or two drinks. That or they just wanted to find some nice place in the forest for the more “intimate things”.

It was Mrs. Scribble's idea to go after all she didn't seem to be the type to enjoy pubs so figured it was only understandable of her to long for some love from her own husband.

However, I didn’t exactly need nor want to know, so I didn’t ask. The important thing was that both my masters were happy. If they were happy, I was happy too.

In the evening, I helped with making the dinner and serving it on the table as well. Then I was invited to join them again.

It made me nervous at first but this time Mr. Scribble didn’t seem as upset as the last time. They were both in too good of a mood to care about that. And as I was sitting by the table with them, it kinda felt like…

...like the last time I had dined with my parents.

...

I remember my mother as a woman that was always smiling, in times when I was a kid.

But she didn’t live long enough for me to find out if she’d have been smiling even throughout my puberty.

Surely, if she could see what happened to me in my teenage years, she wouldn’t be smiling at all. ...Yet, the things I had succumbed to wouldn’t have been so tempting for me if she’d been there in the first place. That alone would have been enough for me.

I often wondered what my parents would have thought of me if they could have seen me right there and then, as I was, after all that had happened: Where I was, what I was doing, what my position in life was, what had happened to Earth…

I don’t know if they’d have been proud, most likely not, but I always liked to think that they definitely wouldn’t have hated me for my weakness in life. Maybe they’d even have supported me, or helped me somehow, even if it had been just that one encouraging smile...

...just like my mistress did then.

I glanced at her on the left side of the table, Mr. Scribble on the right, and it filled me with some kind of inexplicable feeling of content. It was just short living though because I knew I had to return into reality.

‘No,... I should definitely not think of them this way…” I thought.

I knew my place…

I knew it well.

***

That Sunday morning, Mr. Scribble stumbled over my new mattress, literally.

It took up a little more space than the pillows and he wasn’t used to going around it each morning, so he almost fell and even banged his head over a wall.

“Are you okay master? I’m sorry I-” I sprang up.

”Hush Sch- I mean Anon.” The stallion touched his aching forehead “...Damn, where did you even get this thing?”

“Mrs. Scribble bought it for me...” I pushed myself against the wall, as far away from him as possible. From my experience with gryphons, my body automatically prepared itself to get hit.

”I could have expected that… Well, anyway…” He turned around, on his way to the kitchen while I deflated back onto the mattress.

...

Couldn’t say whether it was the reason why he seemed just a little bit upset at me for the rest of the day but when I later asked my mistress, she said it wasn’t my fault. He supposedly already woke up a little grumpy.

…

Just like last Sunday, in the afternoon he went to a pub and returned late at night. It really might have been a bad day for him though because he stumbled over me yet again.

I was sleeping by that time, so before I even woke up to see what was going on, he was already in the bedroom, about to lie down next to his wife.

‘The mattress might not have been that good of an idea as it seemed at first.’ I thought to myself.

***