Sour Notes

***

After Mr. Scribble had departed the Monday morning, I was left alone with my mistress again.

This time she didn’t seem so sad about him leaving, she knew she’d have me as a company and she was still pretty happy about her weekend.

...

”Anon, I’d almost forget,” The mare stopped when we were walking back into the house for breakfast, right after her husband disappeared in the woods “I know the code to your collar now, how about we take it off? You don’t need it at home.”

“Mistress…” I stopped and slowly kneeled to be at the same height as her, “...You’re way too kind to me, I wish there was some way to repay you for everything.”

”You’re doing that everyday, my human. This is the least I can do for you.” She patted my head.

“I didn't only mean this, I meant all that you’ve done to improve my life. There’s been so much of it.” I bowed to get even lower and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. In a few moments, my neck was going to be free again. I could barely even remember how it used to feel like.

My mistress was trying to remain humble and reserved, not showing too much response to my visible emotion but I did see her smile to herself as she reached her left hoof towards the collar on my neck. Then she pressed the combination of buttons and the thing fell down on the wooden floor with a thud. The feeling was priceless to me.

As if I could breathe deeper than ever before.

”You’re overthinking this way too much Anon…” Mrs. Lemon picked up the collar and patted my head. “Any half decent mare would have done the same in my place.”

***

Things slowly were slowly returning to where we had left off before the weekend and without Mr. Scribble around; Meaning I didn’t have to be that cautious about my behaviour.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t like him though.

In my head, after the Saturday dinner, I lowkey hoped I might actually become a part of the family, just like my mistress said. I didn’t cling to that idea that much though because deep inside I knew it was kinda naive.

My mistress was really nice but she couldn’t force her husband to like me as much as she did.

***

Throughout the passing days, the relationship between me and Mrs. Lemon grew even further.

Yet, I still knew my place.

…Mostly.

I was trying to be the best friend I could be, while focusing on my service but it was my mistress, who often seemed to forget about my role there, occasionally erasing the invisible line between us.

I felt a bit conflicted about it because even though I’d very much have liked to get less formal, for some reason it always made me feel somewhat uncomfortable at the same time.

I think I was afraid that if I erased the “distance”, I wouldn’t have anyone to look up to anymore.

Only on our “wine nights”, once each week, I allowed myself to relax completely, knowing things would still be the same the next day and while Mrs. Lemon would have wanted me to be more casual around her, she also respected my decision. Most of the time.

***

“Mrs. Note! A mailmare was here; were you expecting anything?” I picked up a letter from our doorstep on Thursday morning that week.

”I wasn’t!” She yelled from the inside of the house, already scooting towards me “...What does it say?”

“I didn’t check, I wouldn’t dare to read my master’s private mail... But it’s from Mr. Papyrus.” I opened the seal and handed it to the mare’s hooves.

Mistress initially seemed a bit worried when she started reading; her husband didn’t usually write to her, unless it was something important or if something bad happened but as she kept reading, I saw a smile rising on her face:

”He says that Princess Celestia decided to employ more scribes so that his team would have more free time! He will visit us again this weekend!”

“Really?”

”Yes! I didn’t even hope for something like that! After the accident, when we almost stopped seeing each other, it felt as if he’s getting more and more distant from me and I can’t do anything about it… But now he might be home three days each week!”

“Oh wow…” I held my breath for a second, indecisive whether it was a good or a bad thing for me.

”Don’t worry Anon, I know he might seem strict but he’ll learn to like you,” My mistress chuckled, reading my emotions like an open book. “He just needs to know you better and now there’ll be plenty of chances. Maybe we could even have some sort of trip together, all three of us.”

“I don’t think it would be too good of an idea, mistress." I cringed internally. "I’m really just a servant here and I think Mr. Scribble would prefer it if it stayed that way.”

”Nonsense Anon." She refused to acknowledge my worries. "...How about we bake him a cake on his arrival? Together. I’m sure he’d appreciate that. There’s one special recipe I learned when I was just a filly.”

“I can’t really bake though… but I’ll help you in any way I can!”

”That’s a good boy,” The mare smiled.

...

The very same day after lunch, we started baking:

”It’s a lemon cake with a lemon fondue. You can probably guess why I wanted to learn that one as a kid,” My mistress was grinning on her way to the kitchen. “I only ever baked it for special occasions ever since and it’s quite long since I baked it the last time but I should remember every little part of it. It’s the cake Papyrus wanted for our wedding after all! Gosh I can’t believe it’s gonna be twenty years soon…”

It was nice to see my mistress so happy about something. She must have really loved her husband because not even I could get her this excited about an activity. So I did whatever I could do to keep her in the good mood, helping as best I was able.

To me, the recipe felt really complicated but for her it was ‘relatively’ easy and in a few hours, we had a delicious looking cake ready for tomorrow. We didn’t make any plans for that day but for Saturday, Mrs. Lemon hoped we could visit Greenwood because there would be a concert. Supposedly, there was something worth seeing almost every weekend…

***

Friday afternoon, about the time Mr. Scribble usually arrived, we were already waiting on the porch, watching the trees rustle in the hot summer wind. However, when it was past the usual hour, Mrs. Note started worrying. Her husband was supposed to come via train and we both knew that trains are bad luck, so she was afraid that something might have happened.

Just to be sure, we went towards the train stop to check whether there wasn’t some kind of accident but everything seemed to be in order, the colorful trains were passing by as usual. Eventually we had to return back home.

By the time we did, we found another letter in the mailbox:

”I’m very sorry, Lemon, but in the end I couldn’t make it this weekend. I give my word that the next one I’ll arrive. Papyrus.” My mistress read it out loud.

I thought she would comment on it somehow but instead she just frowned and went to the living room to play piano. She didn’t even unstrap herself from the big wheels she had to put on to go outside; I was surprised she managed to get herself on the piano stool. I kind of wanted to help but I felt I should leave her alone for a while.

What she played that day wasn't nearly as sad or aggressive as the day we had met but I could clearly hear her disappointment from it.

When she returned to me, after half an hour or so, she seemed a lot calmer. Almost too calm though, as if she was just pretending.

”Anyway,... it seems we’ll have to finish the cake just the two of us, Anon.” Miss Lemon said almost expressionless “...And don’t worry, we'll still visit Greenwood tomorrow, even without Papyrus.”

“Um, okay!” I gave her my best smile, hoping it could cheer her up “Um, we can just bake another cake next week, right?”

”I- sure, of course we can.” She bit her lip as if something inside her stung her but then she softly smiled back. “... Would you help me out of this thing Anon?”

It was the first time she asked me to help her unstrapping her wheels. She always prefered to do it alone to prove to herself that she was still capable. This time however, she likely just needed to feel less alone.

Of course, I was glad to lend a hand and be there for her, even though I wasn't the one she'd have preferred.

After loosening the belts, I lifted her up, about to seat her to the mobility chair, but she stopped me:

“Anon, carry me to my swing please. You don’t have to push me or anything but,... could you stay there with me for a while?”

“I will, mistress.” I changed direction and smiled supportively “I’ll always be here for you...”

When I laid her there and sat next to her, she leaned her head on my shoulder, watching the sun slowly disappear behind the leafy forest.

'...The sight is so pretty it never really gets old.' Flew through my head.

At first I wondered what exactly could Mrs. Lemon be thinking about at the moment, but then I realized it was better I didn’t know. It wasn’t my business. I knew all I could do for her was to be present. And we sat there until the darkness swallowed the world and a pale moon climbed up to sit in his empty throne in the sky.

”...Thank you for staying, Anon,” said my mistress eventually after a long time of silence, lifting her head and cracking a smile. “Let’s go home now.”

***

(note for myself, delete later: it’s three full weeks here + the first weekend)

Tomorrow we had a third of the lemon cake for breakfast.

It was as delicious as it looked and my mistress was happy that at least I enjoyed it if her husband couldn’t.

I was expecting she’d be still sad about yesterday but to my surprise she must have gotten over it. That, or she was hiding it better than I could tell.

...

Just like promised, we also went to Greenwood on Saturday and despite all odds we had a splendid time there. Mrs. Lemon bought another bottle of wine for the upcoming week and then we had a short stroll around the city district. As my mistress predicted, there was something going on each weekend. That particular one, it was an amateur musical concert going on, on one of the squares.

Anypony could bring an instrument of their own, or even a whole band, and perform what they prepared in front of others. As a reward, besides applause, they received whatever the audience donated to the gift box at the end.

“...Mistress, don’t you ever long to play in front of a live audience again?” I asked the white mare at the end of the concert. I noticed that none of participants played piano or keys.

”That’s a good question…” She chuckled somewhat nervously. “Sometimes I do but I never played solo, if you mean that I should try it here.”

“What did you use to play then?” I inquired for more details.

”An opera. You see, I was one of the many instruments that created a whole, big composition. In the background of something way bigger than just me.” Her gaze momentarily wandered off.

“Forgive my boldness but…" I somewhat abruptly snapped her out of her reminiscence.

"I forgive you. Be as bold as you want to." Mrs. Lemon glanced at me with a slightly amused smile. She did not require me to be so formal.

I awkwardly returned the smile before saying out loud what was on my heart: "The thing is that I don’t understand. You’re perfectly capable of going solo with your skills. Why would you want to be in the background?”

”It was always a great art for me of course! -The whole thing, when ponies who sometimes barely know each other can create a piece that tunes, as a one being. It made me feel as if I belonged somewhere." She brightened up as if she was really there once again. However, that content expression didn't last very long. "...I’d very much like to be there again but after I lost my legs, they found another pianist in Canterlot opera and I-… I didn’t really look for another place. Especially, since I was afraid of leaving my own home just a month ago.”

“But things have changed now, haven't they? You could find something new! I’d escort you, maybe I could move the piano for you somehow too…”

”That wouldn’t be such an obstacle.” Mrs. Lemon chuckled. “At opera houses, they always have their own pianos but I also have a keyboard, just in case. I never used it live though, because the biggest obstacle is in my head, Anon.”

“What do you mean?”

”I am afraid, my dear human... That’s why I chose opera in the first place.” The white mare looked away in somewhat ashamed manner. “I cannot perform alone in front of ponies.”

“You do perform in front of me though…” I dared to walk into her field of view.

”That’s different and not because of your species. We know each other and you’re close to me…” She nervously glanced into my eyes. “You see, I fear I might show too much of myself to others through my music. It scares me to open up this much to strangers. So I always preferred to perform music of somepony else instead.”

“...But that’s the point!” I crouched down in order for us to be at the same level of height. “There’s so much beauty inside of you and it’s such a shame that no one else can be a witness to it!”

For a good while, there was silence between the two of us. I wondered whether I didn’t cross the line by being so open but then she hesitantly spoke:

”...Do you actually mean that, Anon?”

Being encouraged by her words, I continued. “Of course I do! Only thanks to you and your music was I able to find some kind of purpose in life…”

”It- really means a lot to me.” Mrs. Lemon bashfully looked away “You don’t know how much.”

“Thank you mistress.” I blushed as well. “...If I may be even bolder, to me it would mean a lot if my opinion was enough to help you overcome that fear and just give it a shot.”

...What I said, made Mrs. Lemon chuckle in a visible amusement:

”Gosh, Anon. Bold indeed. But you’re a good motivator, I’ll give you that,” She visibly grinned “...And I guess you motivated me enough to try.”

“I did?” I almost couldn’t beleive it.

”Yes.” The mare laughed. “Let’s go sign up for the next one before something makes me change my mind.”

And so we went towards the organizers in the background of the stage to ask when the next concert was gonna be.

...

”In two weeks, miss,” said a yellow pony with a banjo around his neck. “I can reserve you the stage after ‘The Harmonics.’ - Nice ponies, these guys. They played here about three hours ago, did you hear them?”

”Sadly I didn’t, I arrived just as they left,” Mrs. Lemon smiled “...But I’ll make sure to have a listen to them the next time.”

”Do so,” he smiled. “And I’ll be looking forward to hearing your piano too! What did you say you were going to play?”

”I didn’t say…” She softly smiled yet again, this time mostly to herself. “Two weeks are a lot of time to write something for the occasion...”

...

So it was settled. And Mrs. Lemon was really excited about it.

Back home, she went straight to the piano and started playing, making notes for herself and she didn’t stop until it was dark again. She was on fire, maybe even more than while baking the cake for her husband.

...It was so good to see her full of purpose

***

“...Guess what honey?” ...was the first thing Mrs. Lemon asked her husband, straight in the door when he actually arrived the next weekend as promised. “...I’ll start performing again next week!”

”Really?” He stopped, almost as if he didn’t want to actually believe it or if it concerned him instead. “...Are you moving to Canterlot? You know there’s a lot of stairs and obstacles everywhere…”

”In Greenwood, silly!” She laughed. “And it won’t be an opera! This time I’ll play solo, out there in the streets, with amateurs. I know it’s something completely different but change is good, isn’t it?”

”Wow, I’m actually pretty surprised to hear that from you,” The stallion chuckled with visible relief. “But I’m glad that you finally returned back to your talents… Where will it be?”

”On Sprite square, next Saturday at 14:30. Will you come?” Her pupils widened like those of a puppy.

”Well,...” Her husband very softly cringed, “...dear, I’d very much like to, but it turns out the situation won’t be as good as I expected… With more scribes, we got equally more work so it ended up being pretty much the same as it was before...”

...That was when the expression of my mistress lost some of its light. Even Mr. Scribble saw it, so he added:

”But I might come to see the next one? It’s just that there will be something very important at work this Saturday, something they’ll need me for and I already agreed.”

“I understand Papyrus.” She hung her head down. “I know your job is a big responsibility towards our Princess and the nation.”

“Y-yeah.” He visibly stuttered “...I could come to shortly see you at least on Sunday though.”

”That would be nice of you.” My mistress faintly smiled again. “I know it’s not easy for you either.”

“That’s nothing.” Mr Scribble coughed before eyeing me. “Anyway,... how have you been doing here? I presume Anon wasn’t misbehaving since he doesn't even have his collar on?”

”Of course not!” Mrs, Lemon remembered I was there and lightened up a little.”It was thanks to him that I found the courage to try something new. But come on inside; I know you’re surely hungry after the way here and we made some dinner. It’s still hot.”

***

My mistress didn’t tell her husband about her disappointment with her cake last week. She probably thought that it wouldn’t really help anything to burden him with even more things to feel guilty about. After all, we had managed to “dispose” of the cake by ourselves with no effort so it hadn’t gone to waste; plus we’d had fun baking it. Mrs. Lemon said we could even start baking more often because it didn’t hurt to have something sweet ready at home and she could teach me some basics too.

If Mr. Scribble arrived at least for the next Sunday, we could bake something simple as banana bread or muffins. Not the lemon cake though because mistress wanted to keep it for special occasions.

…

That weekend went by in a similar manner as the previous one with Mr. Scribble around. Mrs. Lemon wanted to spend time with her husband since she saw him so rarely, so I had a lot of time for myself. She even played a part of what she prepared so far for the concert to him.

Saturday, she asked him to come for “a stroll to the Old Loom again”. This time they took a blanket with them. And since they returned all happy again and not even tipsy, I considered my previous judgement correct.

However, I wondered why they didn’t just tell me to stay away from their bedroom or something. Then again, I knew how much my mistress liked nature, so that might have been the real reason why she preferred a blanket under the trees over her own bed. I probably would have too...

It wasn’t really my business though, I knew I shouldn't even think about any kind of lewd things because they don’t bring anything good to me. Never did.

I was just glad that my mistress was happy.

...

As usual, Mr. Papyrus went to a pub that Sunday… and departed early in the morning.

***