It was likely going to be the most awkward phone call she’d ever had. Beyond the years of absence from each other’s life they had both quietly accepted, there was a veritable trove of baggage that had to be reckoned with: the neglect as a parent, the alcoholism, the denial of a significant other, the disownment- that moment. The laundry list wasn’t a small one.
Twilight Velvet let the phone fall from its place beside her ear and wondered if what she was doing was even the correct decision in the first place. Her voice wasn’t likely to be a pleasant one to hear, and the circumstances into which she was going to intrude were even less so. But this was her daughter; the last time they had spoken to each other had been painfully awkward, what could possibly hope to compare? Besides, if what her father had revealed to her was true…
A little comfort couldn’t go amiss. Even if it came from the one person she didn’t want to hear from. So she tapped the screen and brought up speed dial: Twilight Sparkle. As the phone began to dial in, Velvet couldn’t keep the knot of nerves away as she wondered just how miserably this was to go. “Please let me have an idea here,” she pleaded to no one in particular.
The line took, the clock ticking as silence took over where automation had once reigned. There was presence of breath in the background, but no voice to confirm it; the world on the other end of the line was quiet to the point of eerie, a hair’s breadth away from a hammerstroke that would fall upon her neck.
A catch of movement, then a voice. “What do you want?” The voice on the other side was Twilight’s, but most assuredly unfriendly. Unknown intent kept her daughter cautious, hesitant to speak further. And if Velvet was right, there was a weariness there also…
“I heard,” Velvet began, all but instantly faltering in her pronouncement. “I heard that Cadance was finishing up treatment.”
Silence. “Where did you hear that?”
“From- from your Grandpa. He told me the other day that she had cancer. I heard that she’d had to have surgery.”
“She did,” Twilight answered, her voice still as unyielding as before. “And?”
It wasn’t as though any of them had left on good terms. Awkward terms, maybe, but definitely not good ones yet. Why was she even calling, did Velvet herself know yet? She wanted to say yes, but that might mean admitting a few things that she couldn’t accept just yet. “I wanted to know how it went.”
“What for?” Twilight continued. “You weren't hoping she'd be struggling or something, did you??”
“What- no, no. I promise that’s not it,” Velvet said, immediately trying to find some way to back out of the corner she believed herself to be in. “I just- I know that… that you stayed with her. So I thought that it might be good to- check in. And see how she’s doing.”
The silence that came next was far too long, a pained sound of emptiness that echoed freely in her ears. What was Twilight thinking of now, Velvet wondered? Was she biting back anger, a justified remark of fury that would put an end to their chatter? She knew whatever came next was of her daughter’s volition, the only person who had real right to say or judge anyone left in her world.
“She’s been resting a lot since the surgery,” Twilight said. Her voice was measured, though perhaps still weighted down by some level of emotion. “I mean, it… the breast is gone. And the treatments after have been rough.”
“I bet they are.” Velvet had known more than one soul afflicted by cancer, and to now know one so dear to her daughter made the situation all the more complex. “Is… how is the recovery right now?”
“Slow. But it should be alright. At least we think.” Twilight paused on the other end of the line, perhaps putting her thoughts together for a moment. “It’s just the thing with cancer. You never really know.”
“You really don’t,” Velvet said. “But it’s a start.”
“It is. Is that all you were wanting?” Twilight asked.
The answer was no, but there were a million different reasons why she couldn’t manage such a conversation just yet; Twilight was not receptive, at least right now. Maybe another day, another time. “Let me know how you’re both doing,” she said finally.
“We got married,” Twilight added. One last bombshell, perhaps something to test the waters and gauge her mother’s reaction. Something meant to shock and awe, to get a real response out of her.
Velvet had a few things to say about that, but found herself wondering if such things really mattered any longer. “OK,” she managed. “Bye.” A quick press of glass and the call came to an end, her world disconnected from the last child who would still dare to speak with her.
It was not much. But for now, it was a start. And maybe that was the best she could hope to ask for right now.
She’d had the letter sitting beside her bed for a month at this point, written to a person who would likely never open it. Velvet had begun putting pen to paper in the hopes she would eventually produce something more substantial, but the end result had been little more than a few sparse sentences. A small word of thanks, an explanation for her current absence, and a word of glad tidings. It didn’t really amount to much.
“And it’s not hard to know why,” she grumbled, tossing the envelope aside and deciding it could be mailed another day; a pen was grasped and taken to paper as she began to set her mind to something tangible that could be crafted into word. The one thing she needed to say is the one thing she couldn’t find a means to admit. There was still rebellion there, a desire to remain silent. After all, it would be confession to years of failure; not an easy thing to admit even to oneself.
The knock at her bedroom door was firm, the guiding hand of her father held to the knob as it opened and allowed the rest of the world to invade Velvet’s private world. “Come on, Velvet,” Weekend Warrior said lowly, “the hospice staff said they needed to go over a few more things before they’ll be able to arrange a date for your mother. You’ll need to be there.”
“Alright,” Velvet assented, trying to ignore the dull, faded visage her father now possessed; what had once been pneumonia had never truly left, afflicting Velvet Gleam so thoroughly that lungs had begun to fail. Despite the wishes of a spouse and the hollowed grief of a daughter, the two had forced themselves to come to a most unwelcome conclusion: the end was coming, and it would have to be tended to by hands more proficient than their own.
“You’ve been in this room all day,” Warrior remarked. “Hope you’re not hiding.”
“I’m not. I’ve been trying to write this letter all day,” Velvet said, gesturing to the small scratches she had managed. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Hopefully it would lead to words that could actually be put to use rather than something insubstantial and useless. “I feel like I’ve barely started.”
“Who’s that one to, then?” Warrior inquired, gesturing to the enclosed envelope that sat beside her open pen on the desk.
“Hmm?” Velvet put down her pen and took hold of the sealed missive, staring at it with some measure of confusion. How had this gotten there? She certainly hadn’t left it here, had she? If so, who was it for? After all, she was only just starting to write-
Completed already. The memory suddenly came upon her in strength and the sealed words of the letter returned fresh in her mind. “Oh my goodness,” Velvet sighed, casting her pen aside. “I wrote that one already, I don’t need to do this. Yes, I can go help you with hospice.”
“Alright. Who’s the letter to, though?”
That was a less pleasant admission, and far more humiliating. “Oh, that’s… it’s to- Cadance. To Cadance.”
Warrior didn’t bother to hide his surprise, recalling his daughter’s former hostility to the younger woman. “Now that’s not what I expected to hear,” he said, “decided to try and apologize to her?”
“Yes,” Velvet said quickly, though promptly feeling a niggle of shame. “Well- no, also. It’s a start. Or something sort of like it.”
“You said you spoke in her defense during the disciplinary hearing,” Warrior mused. “She seemed ready to bury the hatchet then and there. Is something still the matter?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Velvet answered. “I’ll say more at another time. I think she and Twilight are busy enough right now with their own lives.”
Warrior’s eyes softened as his thoughts came to dwell on the circumstances that now swirled about his granddaughter and her new bride, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued them both for a few months now without ceasing. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you,” he said, “when she has the strength to read it.”
Velvet gave a low, bitter stream of laughter at the very thought. “I’m sure she’ll want nothing to do with me for the rest of her life,” she said. “She’s got more reason to be angry at me now than I ever did towards her.”
“Maybe so. But you’re Twilight’s mother, and that probably counts for something,” Warrior said. “Well, come on, then. They’ll be here soon.”
So they would, Velvet silently agreed. She turned to follow her father’s lead and begin those horrid preparations for her mother’s end, that specter of inevitability looming all the closer with each passing day. When she was done, she would return and see that letter written. It had been too long since she had first conceived of the idea and had only been followed by tense hours of trying to ignore it-
Oh. Wait, that was right. Yes, she’d written it already. She would need to mail it soon.
The first time she saw the number and recognized it, Velvet was too frightened to even pick up her phone and answer. She wasn’t prepared, she didn’t have a clue of what to say- she was simply too scared to reach down and press the answer button!
And then the second time came. It took all of her willpower to force herself and bring phone in hand, answering the call with a raspy voice before her nerves decided to give out. It wasn’t how she’d wished it would go, but the options given to her now were limited. A great deal of brainpower wasn’t necessary to know this would be an extremely awkward phone call.
“Hello?” She wanted to try and play it safe, perhaps feign ignorance. A coward’s way of dealing with things, but still…
“Velvet?” Came the weary reply. “This… it’s Cadance.”
She’d known by recognizing the number, but Velvet decided to keep her course for now. “Cadance! Yes… hello. How- how are you?”
“Better,” was the answer given. “A bit tired- well, some days are just tired the entire time. But the worst is over, so I’ve got that.”
“That’s good to hear,” Velvet said, trying to sound like she meant it. “I heard through the grapevine that… how’s your body been recovering? You know, since the removal?”
“It’s still a little strange,” Cadance admitted. “Some days are harder than others. But most of my wardrobe still fits, and I was able to alter some stuff so they’ll fit. It’s better than right after.”
“Mhm. I’m sure it’s been hard.”
“It could be a lot worse. The tumor got removed, I’m in remission. Twilight’s been a big help, too,” Cadance replied.
Velvet recalled a legion of memories of her young daughter; always wanting to be compassionate, right alongside her and wanting to help fix the problem. She’d been there trying to save a broken marriage as a young child, only wishing for her parents to stay together and be happy. What a horrible thing for a child to feel like she has to do, Velvet thought. How many other moments had been like that, shared between parent and child? She remembered her alcoholism- likely there were several she just couldn’t recall.
“How’s your mom been?” Cadance inquired, breaking through Velvet’s internal meanderings and bringing back reality. “I remember your letter said she was going through hospice.”
“She’s not good, really,” Velvet admitted. “It’ll probably be- she’s been doing well to keep going for this long. So it’s only a matter of time when you’re in hospice.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Cadance said. “Would it- would you like us to come up sometime and visit? Is there anything we can do to help?”
“I- I don’t think so, no,” Velvet said- and promptly realizing how horrible that must have sounded. “Wait- I’m sorry, I meant about help! Umm, as for visiting… let me think about it.” A flicker of thought to her daughter; the last time they had been here in the ancestral home, the bitterness that had run hard between them seemed unlikely to perish swiftly. “How would Twilight feel about it? Does she know you’re talking to me?”
“She knows. It’s just a bit difficult for her still,” Cadance answered. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be. Neither does she,” Velvet assured her. “After all, Gleam wasn’t exactly…”
The two of them could recall that botched Thanksgiving with ease, the disaster of a moment that had nearly ended in thrown fists. “I’ll talk to her about it, if you’d like,” Cadance suggested. “I know Warrior would be glad to see her again. Especially if, well, Gleam passes.”
“He definitely would be glad to see her,” Velvet agreed. “I’ll keep you posted, how does that sound?”
“That sounds good. Thank you,” Cadance said. “You sound like you’re outside right now, you must be freezing up there! What are you up to?”
“I…” Velvet paused in her stroll and came to a halt. A sudden uncertainty fell upon her frigid bones and kept her from moving; fear, often dormant in the midst of habit, began to creep forth and find its place within her conscious self. What had gone wrong that had seen Velvet make her way from the comfort of a warm home and out into the bitter January cold? She couldn’t remember why she’d left- or when she’d left! How had she gotten here in the first place? “Cadance, can I call- call you back later?” Velvet said, hoping her voice didn’t betray the tinge of panic that wanted to reveal itself. Maybe she’d just think she was busy.
“That’s fine. Thanks for chatting for a bit,” Cadance said, her farewell soon silenced as the phone call came to an end.
Velvet took a deep breath of icy air and looked at her surroundings. A sinking feeling came into her stomach as she saw the rows of houses about her, not one of them giving even the smallest flicker of recognition. She’d come to this place that she didn’t know- but what for? It was an answer she just couldn’t recall. “Come on, think it over,” she told herself, trying to allay her rising fears. “You didn’t just wake up here. You were having a conversation with Cadance, you got to talking…” It was like a blank space in her mind. She could remember waking up and having breakfast, but not when and why she’d left the house. She could remember the countless thousands of memories of her childhood that had happened in that house, but not something she had done just some time ago- a time she couldn’t even remember!
“Sign.” A street sign at the corner, names printed upon it: Cumberland/Red River shone brightly in white upon green. The name Cumberland sounded familiar, but just what was it..?
A flash of recollection, days as a child spent at a drug store dessert shop. A pharmacy was down the road, one she’d walked to countless times as a little girl. She’d get a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream there, a portion of her allowance always spent on a weekly dessert from the place-
“That’s right,” she breathed, a sigh of relief as memory finally found its way to her brain and reignited her decision. She’d walked down to the corner pharmacy for her father’s arthritis medication and some brandy, that was what she’d intended to do! How she could have forgotten such a thing left Velvet mystified.
Velvet ran fingers across her face, wiping away the panic that had once settled there before continuing on. A small little fear took root in its place, praying that she would remember the way back home and not be lost in this frost-bitten winterscape.
Velvet Gleam passed away peacefully five weeks later, surpassing all hopes of lifespan that had been prescribed to her. She declined to be part of her mother’s final moments, allowing those last few minutes to be between Gleam and Warrior alone; fifty-six years of marriage was no small feat, and for such a thing to come to an end at last was not something she was to witness. Whether it because of her own failed marriage or the inability to watch her mother die, Velvet didn’t know. It was a… thought. She wasn’t sure what kind of thought it was, but there was a word to describe it.
The preparations for the funeral began two days after, Velvet giving her father some time to grieve properly before having to deal with the inevitable misery that was a memorial and burial. It was a relief that some of her parents’ friends offered food for the mourners; casseroles and dishes lined the fridge, eliminating the need to cook anything for their nourishment. Velvet somehow still found herself hungry on a regular basis, but Warrior struggled to find even the desire to eat.
Velvet knew she would have to, in some small way, force her father to actually eat something. Taking a carton of pulled pork from the fridge, she set it atop the counter and…
And…
Velvet found herself stuck, as though in a mental pause. What did she need to use next? Come to think of it, why was she so willing to eat? She was surprised at the ability to do so, considering the circumstances. Her mother had just died two days ago and she’d not even felt the need to shed a tear. Did that make her a sociopath or something? It probably wasn’t normal; maybe she was compartmentalizing and ignoring the pain.
But wait- what was she doing? Oh yes, she was trying to warm up some pulled pork. She’d set it on the countertop, but she needed- well, she needed… “Oh come on,” Velvet muttered, trying to force her mind to restart itself. “Think, will you? You’re serving pulled pork, you need something to serve it on. You- plates! Plates, you need some plates.” Now able to see the task done, Velvet extracted a pair of plates from the cupboard and set them beside the open container. But now-
“Umm… serve… pulled pork, so I’ll need-” Velvet found herself flummoxed. “I- forks. And put the plates in the microwave, before you forget.” A quick press of buttons on the microwave- and then a halt as she realized she’d forgotten to actually put the plates in the microwave. The pair of dishes now set to heating, Velvet could only heave a sigh and wonder why that had been such a struggle. Was it supposed to be this hard? Surely not, she’d never had this much difficulty reheating food before. Maybe it was grief- but maybe that didn’t make much sense, either. She’d had some odd moments lately. And for a little bit before, too.
A quick click of a pen before being brought to paper, a line of numbers written down and she pasted the sticky note to her chest; it wouldn’t be with ease that she forgot this task.
Two days later, Velvet found herself returning home with a small ream of papers and pamphlets in hand. Her mind was buzzing, but the presence of such a thing wasn’t all that abnormal anymore. Words kept failing her, mostly because they wouldn’t actually appear in her mind at all. It was only the beginning, and there would be more; she only hoped it would take its sweet time before things truly began to get out of hand.
“Hey, Dad.” Velvet entered into Warrior’s darkened study where he rested, finding him awake and seemingly adrift in his mourning. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Mm?” Warrior turned to look at her with a bleary gaze. “Yes, Velvet, what’s the matter?”
“I’m going to call… Twilight and- Cadance,” she managed to say after a time. “I think that, with all the funeral plans, it’ll be good for us to have some younger help. Does that sound OK?”
He pondered the thought for a time, a time, and then once more before finally summoning any desire to speak. “Yes, that’ll be fine,” he said dully. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“We’ll need all the help we can get,” Velvet said, feeling no great urgency to spill the news to her aged and beleaguered father just yet. “And I know Twilight will want to be here with you.”
Both responses were true- just perhaps one more than the other.
Deep down, Velvet wondered if being present at all was a good idea. True, she’d been the one to initiate contact and arrange their quarters, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a good deal of apprehension. After all, being around the daughter you had verbally disowned wasn’t the nicest circumstances to be a part of. More than anything else, Velvet desired to be away from her home and not have to finally start admitting to the one thing she just didn’t want to do-
The knock at the door was soft and familiar; Twilight’s gentle rap was something she knew by heart. Now or never, Velvet told herself. But to leave them out in the cold would be worse…
“Brr! Ooh, thank you for that,” Cadance said as she promptly strode in, warmly dressed yet somehow still shivering. “Goodness, I didn’t know Manehatten could get so cold, this is horrid.”
“Welcome to winter,” Velvet replied, noting Twilight enter inside slowly out of the corner of her eye. “You can- toss your coat on the rack, please. You’ve got the guest bedroom, so feel free to move yourself over there.”
“Thanks, Velvet,” Cadance said, hoisting the suitcase in her hands and heading towards the hall; Velvet noticed how her sweater sat differently upon her chest, a sunken absence where there had once been a pair.
“So… where’s Grandpa?” Twilight asked, still standing beside the door and staring at her former mother with some degree of apprehension. “I’m surprised he’s not here.”
“He’s…” Velvet found herself going blank, mind emptied at the worst moment. Come on, please. “He is… in his study, and… and he is- napping! Taking a nap right now, so if you’d both make sure to just not be too loud.”
“OK, Velvet.” Twilight placed her coat and took down the hall after Cadance, the flashing band of gold on her finger gleaming in her former mother’s eye. Oh, that’s right.
She had a sudden spurt of inspiration. “Twilight?”
Twilight paused at the edge of the hall and turned about. “Yes?”
Do it now. “If… if you’d like, I can wash- wash the bedsheets in my bedroom for you and Cadance. So you can share the bed, if you’d like.”
Twilight was taken aback by the gesture, for more reasons than one. “I… let me ask Cadance first,” she answered, though the smallest indent of a smile began to form on her lips. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Velvet watched as her once-daughter turned down the hall and out of sight. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Now, she needed to see those sheets off the bed before she let herself get caught up with something else.
The laundry room could be a noisy place, something she’d known even as a young girl. The amount of times Velvet would hear her mother clattering about and making a racket, only to be performing a simple task such as moving a laundry basket about. As she began to start a load of sheets, it wasn’t of much surprise to hear a similar clamor; there were some towels that could be washed alongside the sheets, if she thought about it. She’d just need the detergent, but she was a little out of reach-
“Here you go.” Cadance, taller than Velvet’s more demure size, grabbed the detergent and began to pour it out, slowly glazing the dirtied items that sat within the washer. “Twilight said you’re letting us have your room while we’re here, thank you so much.”
Velvet shrugged away the compliment. “You’re a married couple,” she said. “I can use the guest room for a little while.”
“Thank you. I’m so sorry, Velvet, I know it must be rough.” Cadance, ever the sweethearted being, was gazing at the older woman with a clear expression of sympathy on her lovely face. That immaturity that had once plagued her seemed truly gone.
“My Dad is having a worse time of it, of course,” she remarked. “Hand me the detergent, would you?”
Cadance opened her mouth and then promptly shut it as she made a face. “Oh, I… I put it in the washer already.”
“Wha- yes, that’s right. Sorry,” Velvet said with a weak giggle. “Lost track for a second. You know how it can be.”
“It’s easy to get distracted sometimes, definitely,” Cadance assented. “Umm… Velvet, I’m not making you anxious by being here, am I?”
“Hmm?”
The beauteous woman shuffled herself. “Well, I know that… thanks for the letter you sent,” she said. “Twilight and I won’t make much noise, I promise. You don’t have to worry about us being embarrassing or anything.”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” Velvet said airily. “Please, don’t even think about it. I promise, I’m glad to have you both here to help, it’d be a nightmare with just me and Warrior getting things done. You and Twilight both are so good at getting tasks sorted.”
“And I know Twilight will want to be with Warrior for this,” Cadance murmured.
“She was always the favorite. The little baby girl,” Velvet added. “Would you grab the detergent for me, please? You’re taller than me.”
“Velvet, you asked me that already,” Cadance said. “It’s in the washer, I promise.”
“Oh. Right.” Velvet wondered how she would deal with the awkwardness she had concocted, trying to find some way of breaking the silence that felt so stifling. “Cadance?”
“Yes?”
The elder woman sighed, knowing that it was time for at least one part of the inevitable. “Cadance, I am truly sorry,” she said. “For everything I did to you and Twilight, I know it must have been…” She felt her mind going a tinge blank again and she faltered.
“Velvet- oh goodness, you don’t need to apologize to me at all!” Cadance protested. “Please, I’m the one who needs to apologize to you, especially after- well, that night. I am so sorry for everything I did, I really am. I can’t imagine what it was like for you, I know it must have been hard.”
“But-”
“No, Velvet. Really, you’re fine,” Cadance insisted, this time smiling brightly. “The only person you need to apologize to in this house is Twilight, but not me. After everything, I don’t think I could hold anything against you.”
The words were genuine, a heartfelt thing that soothed Velvet’s fretting soul. “Thank you, Cadance,” she said softly. “Could you do me one last favor?”
“Sure! What-” Cadance paused, regarding Velvet curiously. “Are you about to ask me for the laundry detergent?”
Velvet laughed. “Yes, I’d really appreciate it. I’m…” her words fizzled out and died as she saw the lovely woman before her bear an expression of growing concern, eyes fixed upon her and tinged by fear. “… Cadance, how many times have I asked that question?”
“Three times now,” Cadance answered. “Velvet, I hate to ask… have you been having issues lately?”
That was a much harder question to answer, words seeming to fail her. An intake of breath and a nod was all she found herself able to offer.
“And..?” Another nod, Velvet’s gaze faltering as Cadance gave a gasp. “Velvet... I’m- I’m so sorry. Right after your mother-”
“It’s fine,” Velvet said softly. She didn’t want the worry, not after this long. “Twilight’s happy with you, she doesn’t need her- her ex-mom anymore.”
“But still…” Cadance was hesitant, but let her hand come to rest on Velvet’s shoulder; she even gave it a squeeze. “Have you told Twilight yet? Or Warrior?”
Velvet shook her head. “Warrior can wait until everything’s over,” she said. “He’s got other things on his mind. And I’ll… I’ll need to apologize to Twilight first before I can tell her. She doesn’t deserve to feel like she’s being guilted into forgiveness.”
“Then please tell her soon,” Cadance requested. “She’ll want to know.”
It was the truth, but perhaps the timing was not quite right. To drop such a bombshell so soon after arrival wasn’t a kind way to begin a visit for a funeral, but it would have to be before they went to bed. Velvet continued with her laundry work and other chores, thankful for Cadance’s presence and assistance; she felt herself be more focused, like an arrow given aim. It would not always be this way, and she hoped her future did not also mean a caregiver; perhaps a medication would help stem the worst of it for her remaining years.
Evening came, a small dinner was eaten, and what little socialization Weekend Warrior could manage was mustered for the sake of his cherished granddaughter. Twilight’s comfort and empathy was a salve for the aged man’s broken spirit, and his countenance seemed softened by the time he made his way to bed. It was the best Velvet had seen of her father since her mother’s passing. But now the time was coming soon…
Velvet watched as Twilight and Cadance made their way to her bedroom, leaving the aging woman alone in the living room and positively stewing in her weariness. She was tired, would remain tired, and also likely become more confused as time went on. She hoped it would take years and years, not only a short time; such things were out of her control, but maybe it would be merciful before her time came. Maybe she’d still remember who she was supposed to be.
A polite knock on an open door to indicate her presence, Velvet stood at the threshold and saw Twilight and Cadance atop the bed, a few clothes being folded as they prepared for bed. “How is everything?”
“Clean. And comfy,” Twilight answered, looking quite comfortable and relaxed in her lavender nightclothes. “Thanks for letting us use your room.”
“Happy to. I know what it’s like to be young and married,” she said, earning a giggle from the much more romantic Cadance. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Mm? No, we’re just relaxing for a bit. Still have some clothes to put away and such.”
“Alright. Is... is it alright if I talk to you for a minute, Twilight?”
The calm, measured eyes of Twilight turned to that of her bride and shared a glance before returning to her mother. “OK,” she said. “What is it?”
Velvet knew this one would hurt. It would hurt more than anything she’d ever said, but she could see every transgression that had ever passed before her mind’s eye; a great cavalcade of sins that had seen her permanently banished from her son’s presence, and almost from that of her daughter. If she wished to salvage what little still remained, she would have to be honest and be held accountable for every act of wickedness she’d done. “Twilight…”
Twilight was no fool, picking up on her once mother’s intent. “Look, it’s- you don’t have to apologize,” she tried to say.
“But I do,” Velvet insisted. “After all, I was a terrible mother, wasn’t I?”
Twilight’s expression became clouded, perhaps pained; the sight of it made Velvet wince in her heart. Her former daughter wanted to admit it was the truth, but couldn’t will herself to find the cruelty. “You weren’t terrible,” Twilight replied.
“I was drunk a lot in front of you, wasn’t I?” Velvet said. “And you’d try to help me stop. Or when your father and I would fight, and you’d try to help. You were just- a little girl trying to fix a broken house, and you never should have felt like you needed to try.” She could feel herself building up steam now, yet also a growing lump in her throat as the endless wave of memories from yesteryear continued to flow. How much more could she take? “I’m sorry for everything, Twilight. For being a poor mother, for being an alcoholic, for disowning you and- and almost working with Cinch, for not being at your wedding, for what I did to Cadance and to you. For so much, Twilight, I am sorry. I don’t… it feels wrong to ask if you could even hope to forgive me.”
Twilight’s eyes were sealed shut, a tense squeeze to seal away droplets of salt. “I,” she said in a watery voice, “I can’t forgive you for all of it quite yet. I know I should, but I can’t take it all right now. I know that’s a horrible thing to say, I’m sor-”
“Don’t you feel sorry about anything,” Velvet assured her. “You have every right to struggle. Or just not want to.”
Twilight gave a weak smile. “I’ll keep trying. Ask me tomorrow and I’ll forgive you for working with Cinch.”
Velvet let herself laugh, knowing at least one vicious bump in the road was now over and gone behind them. “I wish that were everything,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’ve got a little more to say.”
Velvet found her mind starting to become fuzzy and blurred again, she forcing herself to crinkle the pamphlet that sat in her pocket and keep her mind focused. “I’ve been having a little trouble these past few months,” she began. “I started noticing some things wrong. With me.”
Twilight was left puzzled, while Cadance slid a hand into hers and gave it a gentle cuddle, her own expression sorrowful; she knew what was to come.
“I’d find myself just having these… issues, just doing basic tasks. Or maybe just bad short-term memory. Or just- just…” Velvet wanted to panic or to burst into tears. Not now, please not now.
“Confusion?” Cadance added helpfully.
There. “Yes! And it kept happening, so I started to get a little concerned. And I went to the doctor. It went about, about like I’d expected.”
“Memory issues,” Twilight echoed. “Confusion, task issues- if you’ve had repetition problems, too, then- wait.” Those sweet eyes went wide with horror, hands covering her mouth. “No!”
Velvet nodded. “He said they caught it fairly early- and it’s a milder form of dementia right now, too,” she said. “There’ll be some medication I can take that’ll help ease the effects. And I’ll just… live with it.”
“But- it’s not something you just live with,” Twilight said, stricken by the news. “Of- do you want us to move up here and help? I mean, Grandpa and you both, we’d be happy to help if that’s what you need!”
Velvet shook her head. “I might still have some time to be alright,” she said. “If the meds work well, I should be able to be- well, something of myself for a little while. Without aid, I mean. And if the doctor says I need a caregiver- or just to be put into hospice like your grandmother…”
Twilight looked as though she’d been stabbed; the idea of having to watch her mother’s mind deteriorate and turn to rot, to put her away into a home and let the inevitable come to pass was not something that her conscience knew yet how to bear. “But you’re- are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure,” Velvet answered. “You have your life, Twilight. You’ve been just fine without me, and I don’t want you to have to see me eventually lose control like that. If that time comes, just see me to a home and I doubt I’ll have the knowledge to care.” She knew it was the right decision, though she hated having to reveal it like this. “And if I start saying horrible things again, start treating you and Cadance both poorly… well- I’m sorry for whatever I say in the future. If I start acting like what I was, I mean.”
“You don’t need to ask forgiveness for something like that,” Twilight said swiftly, swatting away the words like they were little more than air. “I’ll know it won’t be you.”
It was more than she deserved. The inevitable would eventually come, and she would hardly have the ability to realize it- and perhaps to even care. But she had at least been able to see her daughter again. Sweet, beautiful Twilight, happily married and far better a person than Velvet could have ever hoped to become. It was enough to make her want to weep.
“Thanks for telling me,” Twilight said, performing the unexpected act and giving Velvet a hug. “I know it must have been hard.”
“Thank you for listening, Twilight,” Velvet whispered, her voice beginning to choke away. “I love you, you know.”
“I do. Love you, too, Mom.”
And that was the moment Velvet felt herself be at peace at last.
Author's Note
A common thought I have when I start writing is, "What's an interesting Mother's Day story I can do that people will not expect?" And knowing me, I think this fit perfectly.
Enjoy, I guess.
