Look at you, little bottle of pills. Glossy shiny black, like Mattie’s mane. Look at me, you’re saying. Eat me, swallow me, absorb me, become me. Happiness in a bottle. If only happiness were so easy to bottle.
Cranky? Cranky, please.
Hear that, little friend? She’s knocking again. She’s calling my name. She never gives up.
Let me in, Cranky. You’re scaring me.
Scaring her. Used to scare myself. I’m not scared anymore, little bottle. I’m past that now. Into the dark and out the other side.
Cranky Doodle Donkey, you open this door! Do you hear me?
The only voice that ever mattered, that one. And now even she…even Mattie…she’s better off without me, right?
Please, Cranky! Whatever you’re — whatever’s going on, talk to me.
Drink up and you’ll feel better, Redheart says. Take your medicine like a good colt, and the shadows will go away. But the shadows never go away, do they, little bottle? They stay around you, at the back of your mind and the edges of your vision, and no matter how many pills you take you never stop seeing them. Never stop hearing them whisper. Reality creeps back in, and the happy little shell you built crumbles away, and you’re back in the dark where you started. You never really left.
Shiny like black glass in a little bottle. I wonder…I wonder, if I drop you, will you crack?
Look at that. Happiness in capsule form, all over the floor. Happiness mixed with broken glass.
Cranky, what are you doing in there? I heard something smash. Please, Cranky.
That’s a nice shard there. Long. Sharp. I wonder what would happen if I used your glass to do what I used to do when I was a colt. When the shadows came too close and there wasn’t anything else that would make them back off enough to let me feel.
If I cut myself with your edges, little bottle, will the happiness you’re supposed to contain find the way into my bloodstream at last?
If you love me at all, Cranky, if you ever loved me, you wouldn’t lock me out. Open the door, Cranky. Let me help you.
Look at that. Look at it. Red. Rich and flowing like wine, and I can breathe a little easier. No happier, but then, I didn’t expect that, did I, little friend? No. I stopped expecting that a long time ago.
All I really want now is a little rest.
If you’re by the door, Cranky, step back. I’m going to — I’m going to kick it down. Did you hear me? I’m coming in!
I’m so tired, Mattie. I’m so tired.
I’m sorry.
I have a sister, you know. She’s got a horn, same as me, but apart from that, we don’t look anything alike. I think most ponies wouldn’t even know we were sisters — let alone twins! Moonie — Moonlight Raven, I mean, but I’ve always called her Moonie — she’s pale blue, like ice, and her mane is as dark as raven-feathers. I’ve always thought she’s the pretty one, as well as the smart one, but she says that I’m a doctor and brighter colours are considered classically beautiful. She’s the one that would know about classic beauty, I guess, because she’s studying fine art, but I don’t think that holds much water in the modern world. All the models I see in Vanity Mare and Cosmo-pone-itan are monochrome. Sorry, I’m rambling again. You don’t care about models. What I’m trying to say is that I think she’s amazing, and she thinks I’m amazing, even though we’re different. We love each other.
I think you know how that feels, right?
I…I don’t know.
Your wife Matilda. She seems pretty different to you, but she loves you a lot.
Mattie. Yeah.
Mattie, sorry. Cute nickname. Sounds a bit like Moonie! Funny, isn’t it? The coincidences that link ponies — and donkeys — together. They make us part of a larger whole. A connected network.
If…if you say so.
Is that what you’ve always called her?
Yeah.
Well, when I met her, Mattie was a chatterbox and a half. Like me! We were talking a mile a minute. And she had a lot to say about you. Now, don’t look at me like that — all of it was good, Cranky.
I don’t think there’s much good to say about me. Not anymore.
Mattie didn’t think so. She’s an optimist, I think. Like me. But Moonie has always been a bit more of a glass half-empty kind of mare. Like you, maybe, Cranky.
Nothing to add there? That’s okay. You know you never need to feel pressured to talk here. It’s okay just to listen, as well as to share. That’s why I make a good listener, I think. I know how to fill the quiet.
So Mattie is an optimist, and you’re maybe not quite that. Mattie told me that you’re the most amazing stallion. Sorry, jack. It is jack, right?
I don’t much mind either way.
Of course not. Mattie told me how easy-going you were, too. A heart of gold — that’s what she told me. She said you always put everypony else first.
Is that what she said?
Why do you sound so sceptical, Cranky?
Because I don’t think it’s true.
She told me about what you did for her birthday last month. The scrapbook of your first month together, the flowers you saved from your first date. You held onto those for five years to give to her on your iron horseshoe anniversary, Cranky. You were planning for the long term right from the start. I bet you’ve got something squirrelled away for the silver horseshoe anniversary already, right?
Presents don’t make someone selfless, Doc.
Call me Sunny, Cranky. Or Sunshine, if you prefer. But I want us to be comfortable together. Like I said, we’re equals here.
Then, if you don’t mind my asking, Sunshine, when can I head home?
Tell me honestly, Cranky, do you think you’re in the right frame of mind to be at home right now?
It’s okay to share, Cranky. You can say whatever you’re feeling.
Let’s go back to what we were discussing before, then. You think Mattie is wrong when she calls you selfless. Do you think you’re a selfish stallion, Cranky?
I think I did just about the most selfish thing anyone can do. And I left her to clean up my mess. I just wish…I wish it had worked. I wish I didn’t have to stay here and watch.
That’s a fine-looking vegetable patch you have there, Cranky. Mind if I join you for a while?
Do I have a choice?
I’m glad to see you’ve recovered your sense of humour. But of course you have a choice. You always have a choice here.
What happens if I choose no?
I leave you to your weeding and then maybe we’ll catch up in a couple of days at our next session, if you feel up to talking then. There’s no pressure. You know that.
I’ve finished this row; guess I could use a break. Pull up a pew. Give me today’s sermon.
Mattie told me you were funny. She was here yesterday. She said she missed how much you used to make her laugh.
Mattie was here?
She comes three times a week.
And you never — why haven’t you let me see her?
You have to understand this is a place of rest, Cranky. We’re letting your mind rest. Resetting from the pressures of the outside world.
My wife isn’t a pressure.
No. She’s a support. Of course she is. But when you were at home, and she offered you support, did you take her up on it?
You here to yell at me over it?
I’m just asking a question.
No. I didn’t. I shut myself in a bathroom and slashed my fetlock with a piece of glass. That what you want to hear?
It’s more about what you feel comfortable sharing than what I want to hear. But Cranky, Mattie loves you. She loves you so much, and she always believes in you. She says you’re the best stallion that she’s ever met. How does that make you feel?
Like a pile of manure.
Why?
I’m not — I’m not that. I’m not what she thinks I am.
Are you sure?
I said so, didn’t I? I’m just — I’m useless, Sunshine. I’m a big dark cloud, and Mattie is a summer day. She’s better off without me.
I want to talk today about something that happened when I was young.
Is it your turn for therapy?
Ha. Yes, let’s say it is. Okay, so when I was a teenager, my sister and I were attending school in Canterlot. Not the Princess’ school, obviously. Neither of us have much in the way of magic. Just a regular school in one of the outlying districts. Our parents weren’t rich, and we both wanted to go to university. Psychiatry and fine arts. Very different subjects, but a very similar passion for both of them.
And you couldn’t handle the thought of being split up from your twin? Boo-hoo.
I’m impressed you remember we’re twins. Mattie did tell me you were thoughtful.
Do you think I don’t se what you’re doing?
Passing on real things that your wife has said? Telling you things about you that are true? Cranky, please. You won’t get me to join in your negative self-talk.
Negative self-talk. I’ve never heard a more head-doctor statement.
I am a head-doctor; you’ll have to cut me a little slack. Anyway. Moonie and I both wanted to go to university. But we were twins, and two sets of fees in one year is a lot to ask — let alone for five years in a row. They couldn’t afford to send us both.
So…how did they pick?
How would you pick between your daughters?
I don’t have any daughters.
Imagine you do. Do you want to be a father?
I…I did. Before.
Before?
This is your story, not mine. Keep going.
We entered for every scholarship we could find. We tried our best, but there isn’t a lot out there for unicorn fillies who can afford to live in Canterlot.
So your parents eventually had to make a choice, right?
I said I wouldn’t go. I cancelled my application. Posted the letter myself. I was certain that Moonie needed to go. She was an artist. She has…even then she had the most incredible eye for colour, for texture. And I was struggling with my classes. I wasn’t smart enough to succeed either way. So I did the only sensible thing I could think of and pulled out.
And she just let you do that? What kind of sister—?
Let me what? Self-destruct?
Let you just shoot yourself in the hoof like that.
I didn’t want to ruin her prospects. She was better off without me.
Oh.
But when the start of term came and I was helping her finish packing, she let me walk her down the street to the station, and then she laughed at me. If you’d ever met my sister, you’d know how weird that is! Moonie doesn’t laugh. She’s more of a glowerer.
She was…laughing at you? After what you did for her?
She turned to me and said, there’s no way I was going to let you do this to yourself. And she took out a letter, addressed to me. An acceptance letter from Fillydelphia U. She’d gone to the post office and taken my cancellation letter back. She’d cancelled her own application. She’d…she’d gotten a job teaching hoof painting at a daycare, and she told me every bit of her salary was going to my parents to help fund my tuition.
What did you do?
I sat down in the middle of the station and bawled.
No, really.
Really. I’m a pretty emotional mare, Cranky. I live up to my name. Sunshine Smiles, but they could just have easily have named me April Showers.
So did you go?
It was too late to turn the tables back the other way. She’d done this thing for me — this gigantic thing — and I had to get on the train and go. To make her efforts worth something. And for myself, too. To fulfil the dream I thought I should give up. I’d thought I was a burden to her, and our parents, but they wanted me as a burden. So I had to do it.
Oh. I think I’m starting to see the moral lesson here. Very sneaky, Doc.
I’m glad you’re seeing the light. But go on. Guess where my salary goes now?
I don’t know.
I pay Moonie’s tuition at Manehattan College of Fine Arts.
You’re returning the favour.
A better college than our parents could ever have afforded. She helped me, and that means I can help her. It wasn’t weakness to accept her help. It wasn’t a crime to inflict myself on her. She wasn’t better off without me.
But Mattie — she isn’t—
Mattie loves you as much as Moonie loves me. Isn’t that worth something? Doesn’t that make you feel like Cranky Doodle might be worth protecting?
I know. I know.
She wants this for you. And maybe you want it too.
I…want to be free. I do. But it’s been with me all my life, Sunny. Forever. How do you shake that? How do you even start?
You’ve got to get yourself on the path and keep going along it, one hoof step at the time. This is a journey, Cranky. It all starts with the first step.
Alright, Doc, alright. I want to.
I’m so proud of you, Cranky.
I mean it. I want to be better.
Hi, honey.
Hi, Mattie.
Let me — can I — oh, Cranky, I just want to hold you.
Come here, sweetheart.
I’ve missed you so much.
I’ve been thinking about you every day.
What’s it been like here? I’m not — I’m not asking how you’re feeling. Just — have they been kind? Has it been okay?
They’ve been kind. Doctor Sunny is an easygoing jailer, as jailers go.
Do you…hate me for bringing you here?
No, Mattie, of course I don’t. What else could you have done? When you found me like — like that — what else could you do? I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in here, and if I — if I’d found you—
Cranky, don’t. Don’t. It’s alright.
I love you so much, Mattie.
The house is so empty now. The bed feels so big; isn’t that silly? But I wake up sometimes at night, and reach out, and when I don’t find you it makes me think that — that you really—
Don’t cry, Mattie.
I just — if you ever — I couldn’t…I couldn’t.
I’m trying, Mattie. I am. I’m working real hard.
I know you are. That’s all you need to do, Cranky. Just try.
I am. I will. I’m through giving up.
