Shame

A good hour passed before Ruiz heard a knock at the door. The room had darkened, as the sun was beginning to set, the last of the light filtering in through a window that was too high to look out of and facing to the east. He shifted in his bed, calling out to the door, "It's open."

"Are you decent?" asked a mare. It sounded like the voice of Maria from earlier.

"I don't know where my poncho is, if that's what you're asking."

The door handle rattled for a moment, then the door swung open. The contrast of light in the hallway to darkness in the room was so sharp that Ruiz could only make out the silhouette. "Are you going to behave?" she asked. "Or do I need to bring my dad up here to keep an eye on you?"

Ruiz nodded. "I'll do my best, señorita."

"Good."

She stepped into the room and grabbed the candlestick from the nightstand, a simple brass dish design, and brought it into the hallway to light it from there before bringing it back in. With more light shining on her face, Ruiz recognized her. She was the palomino mare from Sweetwater. The same one that bit him, bruised him, and nearly shot in his general direction.

Everything added up now, a notion that one would think would make Ruiz feel better, but it only made him feel worse. She'd been alone out there, meaning she'd been forced by circumstance to load him onto the back of her wagon, which was already badly damaged, and carried him back to her place, and it was her home he had been destroying.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He was, but at the same time, how could he ask for food? He'd already taken advantage of her family's kindness, and receiving services he hadn't paid for didn't sit well with him. He didn't have the cash to compensate them for their food, he hadn't done anything that qualified as work for them, and he'd actively been harmful to her home. He didn't deserve food. "No."

Right as he said that, his stomach growled, betraying his more basic desires. "Are you sure?" she asked, clearly seeing through his obvious lie.

His stomach growled again before he could answer. "What I mean is, you don't have to feel obligated to feed me, señorita. I can't return the favour."

"Don't worry about it," she smiled. "This is a gift."

"I don't like accepting gifts that I can't reciprocate."

"And I don't like the idea of you dying in my brother's bed. And I'm not alone in that thought." Ruiz turned his head away. She was adamant about this. His stomach growled again. "How long has it been since you ate?"

That was a question he really didn't want to answer. She had her mother's commanding presence, compelling him to tell her the truth, but if he did, she'd hold him down and force feed him for sure. "It's been a few days," he exaggerated. He wasn't wrong. Four or five, he couldn't remember, but it was more than simply skipping breakfast and lunch.

"Looking at your figure, I'd have guessed a week. Didn't I see you eating a can of something in town?"

He caught himself right as he was about to tell her that she'd knocked the peaches out of his hoof. It was true, but he didn't want to make her feel as if she owed him. "The gryphons trampled the contents into the road." This was also true, and it was clear she was no friend of theirs.

"Allow me to make up for costing you your meal yesterday," she said, stepping back into the hall.

Crap. She remembered bumping into him. Now she probably felt that she had to feed him. He would feel that way, if the situation were reversed.

She came in with two large bowls of soup. Ruiz knew he was a goat, making him smaller than the average pony, but there was no way he'd be able to eat that much soup, even if he did feel that he deserved it. Even one bowl would be a lot.

Thankfully, one was all he would be given. As he sat up, the nightstand was moved to serve as a small table that they could both eat at. To an outside observer, this might have seemed romantic and intimate. They were sitting face to face at a small table, eating dinner by candlelight. He didn't even know her. For all he knew, he'd misheard the conversation from the top of the stairs, and her name wasn't even Maria.

At least the soup was good. He'd always enjoyed potato soup. It was cheap, it was fast, and it was really easy to make it in a large batch for his mother and just shy of a dozen siblings. He had fond memories of making it for them, teaching his sister how to check the potatoes to see if they were done, and the time he'd run out of potatoes halfway through and supplemented it with carrots.

"I never did thank you," said the mare, pulling him back to the moment. "Back in town, I was sure those bastards had me. You pulled me into that alley, and I thought I'd never see my family again. Then you pointed them in the other direction, even after I bit you. Sorry about that."

Ruiz shook his head. "You don't have to apologize. You didn't know what was going on. You were scared. It's understandable that you would hit me. I should be apologizing to you for messing up your home."

The mare shook her head. "You don't have to apologize. You didn't know what was going on. You were scared. It's understandable," she repeated.

"What I did to your house, especially that young mare, your sister, was heinous."

"She'll be fine," waved the mare. "You just spooked her. If somepony had been here when you woke up, it probably wouldn't have happened."

"It was unforgivable."

"Then how am I able to forgive you?"

That knocked all of the wind out of his sail. He had no response for that. He couldn't reply, and all he could do was return his attention to the soup.

"I'm Mariachi, by the by. Maria for short. I help my parents with the farm work around here."

"Ruiz. I used to work on my family's farm, a gift to my mother from her first husband."

"Not anymore?"

Ruiz shook his head. "It's nothing more than a pile of ash and skeletons now."

Maria swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm pretty sure you weren't involved in burning it down."

"I mean, I'm sorry to hear that. I apologize for bringing up the memory, and to hear what happened to your home brings me sorrow. I can't imagine how that must feel."

Ruiz took a big swallow of soup. "I hope you never have to find out."