Late Nights at the Hooves Household
Disclaimer: Stickily not mine.
Late Nights at the Hooves Household
© Scribbler, January 2013.
Dinky startled into wakefulness. It took a few seconds to realise she wasn’t in bed, even though her duvet was wrapped around her. Instead, she was curled in front of the fire. So tight was the cocoon she had made, it took her another few seconds to untangle herself. Her head popped out with a muffled gasp.
“Mommy?”
Derpy froze with one hind and one foreleg still in the air. “Uh, hi, hon-ney.” She enunciated the pet name carefully, whispering even though there was nopony else in the cottage to wake.
Dinky frowned. “Mommy, why are you wearing the coal bucket on your leg?”
Sure enough, the clanking that had awoken her could be traced back to the coal scuttle wedged onto Derpy’s hind hoof. She had apparently been trying to sneak away on three legs but hadn’t managed to escape before Dinky saw her. “Um …”
Realising what must have happened, Dinky saved her from having to explain by getting to her feet and trotted over, the duvet still draped over her back. As she took hold of the scuttle and held it down for Derpy to extract herself, she glanced at the clock. “You’re awful late tonight.”
“We had a l-lot of del-liveries.” Derpy smiled and ruffled Dinky’s mane, the way she always did when she was making light of a heavy situation. “I w-was in quite a dem-mand.” Although it had improved as she grew up, Derpy still carried traces of the speech impediments that had consigned her to a foalhood of mostly silence. Dinky was so used to it she didn’t even notice when she stumbled over words, or paused in the middle of a sentence, or got things a little mixed up when she was excited or upset. Some of the ponies at school made comments, but she ignored them.
“Where’s your bag?” Dinky asked.
“On the h-hook.” Derpy nodded at the doorway where a brown bag bearing the Equestrian Royal Mail emblem hung. “I reme-embered toni-ight, see?” She gave a last pull and popped free of the coal scuttle. “Thank you hon-ney.”
Dinky replaced the scuttle by the fireplace and prodded at the burning logs with an iron poker, drawing her duvet around herself like a shawl with her other hoof. “Is it cold outside?”
“Sn-nowing ag-gain,” Derpy replied. “Did you e-eat dinner?”
“No, I was waiting for you.”
She frowned. “You m-mean you haven’t eaten an-nything? It’s alm-most ten o’clock!”
Like a nervous actor waiting for its cue, Dinky’s stomach rumbled vigorously. “Um …”
“You stay in he-ere and keep wa-arm,” Derpy said sternly. “I’ll go f-fix us someth-thing.”
She didn’t mumble to herself as she trotted from their tiny sitting room into their even tinier kitchen, but Dinky knew her internal monologue would be going full throttle. Derpy rarely talked to herself where other ponies might; a leftover from when she barely spoke at all. Once, when they were over for a pot of tea and Mommy was in the kitchen fetching cookies, Dinky had heard Auntie Raindrops tell Auntie Golden Harvest that if it weren’t for Dinky necessitating she go out and interact with the rest of Ponyville, Derpy might spend her days in the cottage, not speaking to anypony. She had said it in a way that didn’t make it clear whether that would be a good or a bad thing, which Dinky hadn’t understood. Then Auntie Golden Harvest had spotted she wasn’t crayoning anymore and had changed the subject.
Auntie Raindrops had worked with Mommy at the removals firm before Mommy got her job as a mailpony, but now she was trying to be a Wonderbolt and didn’t come over anymore. Last time Auntie Golden Harvest came over she said Auntie Raindrops was being ‘reactionary’ about impressing the Wonderbolts and ‘sacrificing her friends to make a god impression’. She was so mad she hadn’t even cared that Dinky could overhear. Mommy had said Auntie Raindrops deserved to succeed, which had made Auntie Golden Harvest say Mommy was a fool and walk out in a huff. She hadn’t even had any tea from the pot Mommy had made, and she hadn’t spilled any for once! Dinky hoped she and Mommy made up soon; Auntie Golden Harvest made the world’s best carrot cake and always brought it when she came over.
While Derpy thumped about in the kitchen, Dinky quietly snuck over to the mailbag. Whenever she could get away with it, she checked to make sure Mommy hadn’t accidentally left any letters in there so she wouldn’t get in trouble. Once, she had forgotten to deliver a package of specially ordered seeds to Daisy before it rained and had gone back out in a raging storm to make the delivery. Dinky had waited at the window, shaking with every thunderclap, until Mommy got home safely. When she had tearfully demanded to know why it couldn’t have waited until the next morning, Mommy had mumbled an apology into her mane about the Chief Postpony getting mad about undelivered mail and not wanting to make him angry. Personally, Dinky thought the Chief Postpony was a real meanie and hoped the next time he threw a fit his mane and tail fell out. Auntie Golden Harvest once said the reason stallions lost hair as they got older was because of stress, and the Chief Postpony sure caused Mommy enough of that.
Listening so that Mommy didn’t catch her and get offended, Dinky shucked the duvet and got onto her hind legs, bracing herself against the wall with her forelegs. She unbuckled the bag and nosed it open. Her breath caught when she saw the tell-tale corner of a letter within. Shifting her gaze to the window, she could see fat snowflakes skittering out of the sky in droves. The landscape was already white and gust of wind sent up flurries that made visibility terrible. It would be hard for a good flier to see through it; and though Dinky loved her with all her heart, she knew Mommy wasn’t the best flier. Making a snap decision, she did something she had done only a few times before and pulled the letter out of the mailbag with her teeth. She would return it in the morning before Mommy left and it would be absorbed into the next day’s deliveries with nopony any the wiser.
Where could she hide it? She couldn’t go to her bedroom without Mommy noticing. Quickly, Dinky hurried over to the sofa and slid the letter half underneath it. She only paused when her gaze picked out the name printed on the front of the envelope: Miss Derpy Hooves, Rosewood Cottage, Ponyville. It looked very official, with a curlicue logo in the corner. It had also already been opened, which she didn’t realise until it gave up its contents as she shoved to make it go further under the sofa. On the letter itself scary red print topped lines and lines of small black text, beneath which somepony called ‘Ornate Costlycolt’ had signed his name with a flourish. Dinky wasn’t the best student at school, since she often fell asleep at her desk and missed chunks of lessons. She was tired because she stayed up to wait for Mommy and kept herself awake by reading books Twilight Sparkle at the library had recommended for her. Twilight had called her an ‘advanced reader’, which she took as a good thing, even though her teacher had told her she would ‘never get anywhere’ with ‘such a lazy attitude’. Subsequently Dinky was able to scan the text, heart sinking as words like ‘damage costs’, ‘repayments’ and ‘settle what you owe’ jumped out at her.
Had Mommy had another accident? She really was very clumsy and sometimes crashed into things, but usually she told Dinky where she had got all her new cuts and bruises. If she had indeed had another accident she had kept it very quiet, which would make sense if she had caused a lot of damage and was too embarrassed to admit to it. Or perhaps … was there another reason she had kept this secret?
“D-Dinky?” Derpy called out.
Dinky’s heart didn’t just skip a beat; it missed an entire drum solo. “Yes?”
“Would you like pean-nut butter or ch-cheese on your sa-andwich?”
“It’s late, Mommy. I don’t think either of us should eat cheese at this time of night.”
“Ok-kay. Dinner won’t b-be a minute.”
Mommy had obviously already read this letter. Who else could have opened it and then stuffed it back into her mailbag? Dinky hurriedly put it back in its envelope and replaced it where she had found it. She slid across the floor and pulled the duvet over her head in front of the fire, lines of black and red text dancing across her eyes even in the complete darkness under there.
“Dinky?” A hoof poked her rump. “Are y-you okay, hon-ney?”
Slowly, Dinky uncovered her head. Derpy gazed down at her, a plate balanced on either upturned hoof and a concerned expression balanced on her face.
“Um, yeah. I’m fine.” Dinky crawled out to accept one of the plates. “Thanks, Mommy.”
Rather than sit on the sofa the way Auntie Golden Harvest or Auntie Raindrops always did, Derpy plonked herself down on the floor next to Dinky. She took a huge bite out of her own sandwich and chewed appreciatively.
Dinky picked hers up but didn’t eat any. She stared at the bread, which had all the crusts cut off, just the way she liked it. She loved peanut butter sandwiches but the prospect of biting into this one made her feel a little sick.
“What’s … urgh …?” Derpy swallowed hard to get the peanut butter down. She had brought through a jug of water and two cups. The cups were plastic. Dinky watched as Mommy raised one to her mouth and drank deeply. “What’s wron-ng?”
“Nothing. I’m just not very hungry.”
“You have t-to eat someth-thing. Just ha-ave half. For m-me?” Derpy winked and elbowed Dinky gently in the ribs. “Or is this a hi-int that you w-want me to play the Wonderbolt game?” She broke off a corner of her own sandwich and waved it around Dinky’s head, making zooming noises. “Neeeeeow! Here c-comes the Wonderbolt, r-ready for la-anding. Open the ha-atch!”
Dinky didn’t open her mouth. Instead, she pushed the piece away and looked up at her mother. “Mommy, are we poor?”
Derpy blinked in shock. “Wh-Why would you a-ask that?”
“Because you work all the time but we always have bills to pay.”
“That’s th-the same for everyp-pony, hon-ney.”
Dinky frowned.
Derpy looked uncomfortable. “We have each oth-ther and we’re both heal-lthy. That’s all that ma-atters.”
Dinky continued to watch her. Wordlessly, she got to her feet and dashed into her bedroom. Derpy stared bemusedly after her, then down at the piece of sandwich, as if it had the answers to what was going on. Seconds later Dinky reappeared carrying something small, pink and jingly.
“Here.” She placed it in front of Derpy. “I saved all the birthday money you, Auntie Raindrops and Auntie Golden Harvest gave me, plus Time Turner gave me two bits for helping him carry his groceries home last week, and another two bits for mowing his lawn, even though it really didn’t need it so it was weird that he asked me to do it, but whatever. I have ten whole bits altogether. You can use them to pay our bills so you don’t have to work so late anymore.”
Derpy stared at the piggy bank. For a long moment she didn’t say anything. It was a crystalline moment; the kind where the whole universe seems to be holding its breath. Her mismatching eyes slid to the mailbag, where the flap was still unbuckled. It had been buckled tight when she came home. Dinky cursed herself for the oversight, but rather than get mad or hurt, Derpy continued to say nothing. Maybe she was insulted that Dinky thought she couldn’t pay their bills without help; or maybe she was mad that Dinky had gone into her bag and looked at her private letter without asking.
“Mommy?” Dinky finally ventured. “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad or hurt your feelings.”
Derpy shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Dinky said again, lowering her head. “I was just trying to help.”
“Oh, hon-ney.” A teardrop rolled off the end of Derpy’s nose.
“Mommy, don’t!” Dinky exclaimed, feeling absolutely awful. She had made Mommy so upset she was crying! “Don’t cry, Mommy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m – oof!” Her words were abruptly squeezed out of her when Derpy reached over and pulled her into a tight hug.
“I l-love you,” she whispered into Dinky’s mane, the same way she had the night of the storm and the undelivered seeds, when she had come home wet and smelling like singed hair and lightning. “You don-n’t need to worry ab-bout money or an-nything like that, Dink-ky. You alr-ready look out for m-me more than a f-filly your age should ha-ave t-to.”
“Mommy?”
“We’ll be fine, hon-ney. As long as we ha-ave each oth-ther, we’ll be fi-ine.” Mommy held her so tight it was difficult to breathe, but Dinky stopped struggling. There was something desperate in Mommy’s hug; something Dinky, for all her advanced reading skills, couldn’t put into words. “I l-love you,” Derpy repeated fiercely.
“I love you too, Mommy.” After a while, however, Dinky began to squirm. “Uh, Mommy? Did you put down your sandwich before you hugged me?”
Derpy finally released her. Dinky pulled away, a sticky mess of bread, margarine and peanut butter glooping off them onto the bare floorboards.
“Oops,” Derpy said apologetically. “Sorry hon-ney.”
Dinky looked into her Mommy’s face and sighed. She trotted to the kitchen. “I’ll get the dustpan and a damp towel.” She stopped when Derpy grabbed her shoulder. “Mommy?”
Without explanation, Derpy reached to Dinky’s untouched plate and broke off a piece of sandwich. “Neeeeeow! Here c-comes the Wonderbolt, r-ready for la-anding. Open the ha-atch!”
Dinky obediently opened her mouth and chewed the bite while her mother beamed, got to her feet and went to fetch the cleaning tools.
Fin.
