Thinking back, I don’t feel like my sour feelings were entirely called for, but I’m sure you can understand my reaction. Thinking on it—really thinking—he’s not such a bad guy. Sure he’s kind of dumb, at least compared to me. Not to be mean, but really, he was. Maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better after hating so hard on my best friend’s boyfriend. It’s just, now that I’m alone thinking about him he obviously wasn’t being a dick on purpose. Seeing how much Pearl was caring for me, and not knowing I didn’t swing that way, he obviously felt threatened.

Anyway, Pearl talked to me about him for a while, on our way downtown. Cosh called us a taxi and we got to ride all the way to the penitentiary for free. We turned down the police escort, claiming we weren’t in any hurry, and Pearl was sure he had other things to do. Really, she just knew I didn’t want to be around him anymore.

She tried really hard to convince me that he was a good pony, and I really wanted to believe her. “When I met him, it was like something from a book. I’m sure you know what that’s like. I was still working a few shifts a week at the pizza place when he came in. It was just a few months ago. He was by himself, said he preferred pizza to what the rest of his college buddies were after, but he actually just recently told me he was just looking for me. Said he saw me and fell in love. He really is a nice guy, and I guess I’m kind of a sucker for romance. He always considers my ideas and never forces me to do anything he wants to do. We have our arguments, but like, that’s healthy. We negotiate and make agreements. Neither of us is less happy than the other.”

I let her go on like that. I let her get to me, convince me of his good intentions. Mostly I just don’t want to think about meeting Lavandula. I know part of me wanted to ask him all these questions, but other parts of me are afraid of him. Some of me wishes I could just know, while one little part of me thinks I should have done this a long time ago.

I try hard to listen to Pearl, but my mood is stuck between bitterness and fear and she thinks they’re both linked to Cosh, as if she’d forgotten why we went to him in the first place. I’m really only bitter toward Cosh because of his immediate body language presented upon seeing me, followed by his reaction to actually knowing me. We weren’t friends, but he acted like we were “college buddies.” Listening to Pearl talk about him though, I felt like I might like him as a boyfriend, too.

He was a good guy, I believed that much. I also believed that, given time, we could be friends, but I know I wouldn’t go out with him. For starters, he’s dating Pearl. Secondly, he’s obviously, irrevocably straight. Third, I’m not much for old-school romances. Plus, he was a little too well-built in my opinion. His forelegs and chest were rippling, but his rear-end seemed disturbingly neglected by comparison. He had a painfully generic face and mane-style, as a uniformed police officer.

I should thank Pearl later for distracting me so well during the ride.

The taxi driver pulls up to the front door of the visitor’s center and lets us out. Pearl leads me in and tells the first guard that we’re visiting Lavandula. The guard says they’d just gotten a call from the MPD, and that they were expecting us. Lavandula had been notified, and was ready. It all seemed a bit too easy, but I didn’t complain. I had already come this far: I might as well get what I came for, whatever that was.

Pearl suggested she stay behind, confident I could handle him myself. I agreed, though warily. I wanted her in the same room, just for my sake.

Lavandula followed a guard through a door to a seat on the other side of a thick safety window. I could only look at him. He was a sturdy pegasus, with a dirty white mane falling in neat little curls past his sand-colored cheeks, nearly to his shoulders. I couldn’t get a great look at his body, thanks to the baggy orange jumpsuit he had to wear, but he had a surprisingly gentle face. His jaw line was straight but soft, lined with unkempt stubble from lack of care in such a dreadful place as prison. He had a face that seemed to never smile; not a wrinkle. His eyes were baggy, probably with sleepless nights surrounded by worse ponies than himself. I couldn’t think of anything to say. “You don’t belong here.”

What was I thinking? “What makes you say that?”

As if proving my point, he speaks with the diction of a practiced public speaker. I feel like I could get an eloquent speech from him if I asked. Well, maybe not in this situation. I expected some kind of accent, though, knowing his foreign origins, but he speaks so clearly. “I… I don’t know. I mean,” I remind myself why he’s in here, “you didn’t really rape me.”

“But close enough for prison time, apparently.”

I sigh. “I can tell you think you belong here, but the fact that you stopped proves otherwise.” I pause and let him think. “There’s something else in you. You’re no predator.”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I may not really be as dangerous as you remember, but I made a choice. That choice couldn’t have lead anywhere but here.”

“Except that you made another choice, one that made the first choice null.” I’m trying really hard to tell him something he doesn’t want to hear. I’m trying to convince him of what he is, when he knows that that is what he is not. He doesn’t belong here, but he only believes he does. “Just, tell me why you stopped.”

His lavender eyes sparkle, wet. He blinks hard and slams a hoof on the table. A guard behind him reacts, but stays put. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

I want to say something else, convince him to open up to me. I want to help him, but I don’t know how. What can I say?

Pearl comes up from behind me, once again saving my flank with her quick-thinking and speech-craft. “Lavandula, this is Timber. My name is Pearl, I’m Timber’s friend and I’m really worried about him. He’s really worried about you though, and to make him feel better, I have to help you. I can tell you’re a nice guy, and he can, too. You owe it to yourself to have a friend who wants to help. And you owe it to Timber to try. For his sake.”

I don’t appreciate the way she’s talking about me like I’m not right here, but I thank her for helping, especially since it worked. “I just,” Lavan began, “I can’t believe you’d want to be friends with me.” I never thought I’d want to be friends, but after meeting him I really do. I nod pleasantly, smiling. “I…”

Something’s tearing him apart. I don’t want to hurt him. “It’s ok. I understand if you don’t want to.”

He blinks back tears, then looks back at me. “I’m… gay.”

I can’t contain the shock. I’m afraid I might have offended him with my reaction, so I try to give him something else. “Really?” Curiosity, and an accepting smile.

He nods slowly. He looks around, to the other visitors booths. They’re all empty, so he turns back. “My father was somewhat of a drunk and thought he could scare me into being straight; the son he wanted…”

Pearl cut in with a gasp, “He raped you?”

He was looking away, ashamed. “He said that’s what it was like. I never told anypony. He said if I told anyone that I really did like it, and that he’d do it again. It was dreadful, but it was all I knew. When I left home, I didn’t know what I wanted. I still thought I was gay, but never knew anything but what he did to me. I liked stallions, thought they looked better than mares, I guess. I like stallions for their, you know, bodies…”

“I get it,” I tell him. He nods, like he accepts that I understand. I don’t feel like he gets what I’m saying so I elaborate. “I’m gay, too.”

He makes a little nod, “I… kind of knew that.” I’m a little startled, but kind of believe him. “I followed you from the bar. You seemed to like the party you had, I was a little drunk. I was confused, because I didn’t know how to act with other stallions. All I knew…”

“Was what your father did,” Pearl finished for him.

He nodded. “So, I drunkenly pursued an appeasement for my urges. I figured I could overpower you,” he said to me, “so I followed you into the park. When we were alone…”

We all knew what happened after that.

“But when I saw your face,” he continued. “You… you were crying. And then you said—“

“’Not like this…’” I input. I didn’t even know I remembered at that point, but it came out like I was reciting it.

He nodded again, looked down. “I didn’t want to be my father.”

I put a hoof against the glass, expecting it to help him feel better. He was looking away again and didn’t even notice. I had to say something. What could I say? “I wouldn’t want to be like that either.”

His eyes go wide, and he looks at me like he didn’t even know I was here. Then he looks angry. “Wouldn’t want to be like me?”

I retract my hoof, almost afraid. “That’s not what I—“

“Not what you meant?” He stands, and the guard behind him reacts again but keeps his position. “So you just don’t want to be like my father?”

I’m panicking; this should not be happening. Was what I said really that offensive?

“My father was a brave man. He came to Equestria by himself to start a business and a family.”

What could have brought this on? I realize I’m leaning back reflexively, afraid. I try to relax, but I really am afraid. I said something, one little thing that I thought would help, and it only made things a hundred times worse.

Pearl comes back in then, “He was only agreeing with you. You’re the one that said—“

“Yeah I know what I said, but what gives you the right to talk about my father like that?”

I’m starting to cry. “It was a mistake, I only wanted to help…”

“Well it was a mistake for you to come here.” He steps away from the window, and the guard steps up from his spot near the wall. “Goodbye, Timber Quill.”

What?

Pearl steps closer to me, rests a hoof on my shoulder as we both watch an innocent stallion escorted back to a cell full of ponies with whom he didn’t belong.

I watch in dread at the thought of destroying my only chance. (Chance at what?) I don’t even know. “What went wrong?”