So passed Ink’s week. Gaige survived, Ink did not get too angry anymore, and the day passed like rolling wind across a boundless countryside. All thoughts of writing had receded. But she was content with that, was living in the moment, and cherish the thought of returning to writing once she was right and proper.

She came home that day in semi-higher spirits. The evening was a bit cold but it was much brighter, for the sun had come out and was a stark contrast to the morning chill. Her mother was home. Ink said hi to her then went up to her room to do her homework. She did not notice her mother’s strained smile, but the latter did not think it best to follow-up on it. They were odd people like that, Ink would suppose later.

And the week continued to pass. Her anger gone, she found she could focus a little more on her studies, and while Gaige did occasionally tease her, it was rare in occasion and far too gentle to be anything but that. Ink’s anger had placated her, something that not even Flash could do, and so Ink enjoyed a small moment of pride in that little achievement. So the week continued to pass.

On Friday, Ink decided to treat herself to a night-in with her mom. It was dark and cold outside. She wanted to snuggle up in a blanket on the couch while sipping hot cocoa. Maybe she would read one of her old books, a classic or some other novel that lay on her bookshelf discarded but that she promised she would finish one day soon. Though, she had to admit, she was growing a bit bored anyway. Neither she nor her mother had eaten dinner. It was quiet in the home and Ink did not think anything would break it.

Of course, in thinking that, she invited the universe to shatter that evening: though in a way that she would never expect, and, of course, she had no way of knowing that the universe had it out to get her. So it was that her Friday passed and then it was evening and she was on the couch getting ready to snuggle and sip and do all that when the doorbell rang its definitive ding.

She got up. There was a frown across her face. As far as she knew, they were not expecting any packages or visitors.

“Ink?” her mom called from somewhere in the house. “Could you get that?”

“Sure thing, Mom,” Ink replied, shrugging her shoulders. She glanced out the window, but she could not see whoever or whatever might have rung the door. She checked the corner grandfather clock. It was a little past five. Why would anything be here at this hour?

She walked over to the door, wondering. When she opened the door, her eyes took a moment to adjust to the outside darkness, and so she did not immediately see who stood before her. Once she did, though, she realized it was someone she would never have expected.

“Big Mac?”

He was wearing something other than simple work clothes—and he looked uncomfortable. The suit he wore was the color of evening indigo on those rare days when the setting sun set the sky on fire, and he even had a matching cloth square stuck in the blazer’s front pocket; yet standing there, it was as if he had never worn a suit in his life, for he kept twitching and scratching his sides like he was beset by fire ants. He couldn’t even keep an even gaze with her and kept looking away and to the sides.

She was too set aback by what she saw to say anything, so he took the initiative. “Um, howdy, Ink.”

Still she was silent. Her mind slowly processed the image before her.

“Ah know it’s a bit late but Ah was wonderin’ if you’d still be willing to go out tonight.”

Go… out?

“What?” she asked.

He blinked. “Go out. Y’know, get dinner. Like you said all those days ago.”

I… did? Wait a second…

She gave Mac a fixed, deadly smile. “Could you… wait a few moments before I answer that? I need to make a call.”

“Sure thing, Ink.” Though, she did wonder if he was about to make a run for it, with how uncomfortable he appeared.

She closed the door and stepped a few feet away. Then she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, dialed a certain number, and waited.

“Oh, hey, Inky! What’s up?”

“Nothing much. It was supposed to be a quiet night.”

“Yeah, I getcha. You know, I was supposed to be relaxing and not be forced to be Jarvy’s metaphorical punching bag for several chapters, but, you know. Author’s whims and all that. When am I gonna appear in Ragga’s story, do you wonder?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else.”

“Listen, I was calling because something just came up and I think you might have an answer.”

“Can it wait? I’m busy fixing Deathtrap to sing the chorus to ‘Time To Say Goodbye’ but in Japanese.”

“No, it can’t wait.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Gaige. Why did you send Macintosh Apple to my house at five in the evening, dressed in a nice suit and acting like we’re going on a dinner date?”

There was a long pause. Longer than Ink thought Gaige was capable of, longer than what should have been normal for the girl (if there ever was such a thing). She peeked a little out the front door’s window casing and saw that Big Mac was still there, standing idly by.

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. What is he doing here on my front porch?”

“You mean he’s actually there?”

“Of course he’s there. I can see him.” Even though Gaige wouldn’t see her do it (nor care if she had), Ink shook her head disapprovingly. “Honestly, Gaige, this is a little childish, even for you. I mean, come on. Sure you made that comment the other day, but following through with it? Now the joke’s become reality, and no one likes it when jokes become that.”

There was another lengthy pause. Ink counted a good thirty seconds before Gaige even seemed to take a breath. “Ink, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

“I’ve got you on the phone, haven’t I?”

“I mean it, okay? This is serious.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m listening.”

“Ink. I didn’t send him.”

Now it was Ink’s turn to pause. Then she offered a dry chuckle. “Okay, Gaige. Sure you didn’t.”

“Ink, really. I didn’t.” Gaige’s voice, through the garbled static of the receiver, had dipped in tone. It had lost its feistiness (“I can still hear you, Jarvy!”) and now had dropped to a much more serious level. “I swear on Treble’s life.”

“Um—”

“Oh, all right. I swear on Moxxi’s life.”

“You swear on your mother’s life?”

“Never mind the details. Point is, Ink, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure it’s him?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Same skin and build and everything.”

“You know his build?”

Ink blushed. “W-well—I mean—yes?”

She heard Gaige hum. “Well, all right then. I don’t think—well, Hazel doesn’t have the balls to do that. Or to do anything, for that matter. But then again she’s a girl so—”

“Gaige, get to the point.”

“Well, it should be obvious, Ink! Big Mac’s there on his own! He wants to ask you out to a dinner date! Glad I could clear that up. Let me know how it goes. Later!”

“Wha—no! Gaige—” But it was too late; her friend had already hung up, and would not answer no matter how many times Ink tried to redial. “Goddamn it!”

“Ink? Why are you cursing?” her mother called.

She blanched. “N-no reason, sorry! I just was—”

“That didn’t sound like no reason. Who’s at the door? I heard you talking to someone.”

“I was talking to Gaige on the phone, but she’s not here.

"Then who was it?”

“It’s complicated…”

She heard her mother coming up, and she braced herself for the oncoming questions. But not once did she turn away from the door.

In truth, none of this had been Big Mac’s idea.

He had been the first to brush aside the whole matter, but Applejack hadn’t. Somehow the girl, despite her general good-natured attitude, decided then and there that a grudge was going to be borne, and that it would be held against Ink until the very end of time. Even after Mac had explained that it was not Ink who had said anything, but Gaige and Hazel, Applejack refused to budge.

She was protective, he knew, but that only added to his quiet annoyance.

It was the first thing she had brought up at dinner that night, without any prompting from any of the other Apples. “Ah’m telling ya, no girl ain’t gonna get with mah brother without mah approval,” she said as Granny was in the kitchen.

Apple Bloom, who had been sitting politely in her seat, raised an eyebrow. “Um… what’s wrong with Ink Quill?”

“Nothin’s wrong with her, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “But as the older sister it’s mah responsibility to make sure Mac doesn’t get some plumpin’ hizzy as his girl.”

“Ah’m right here,” he intoned, glaring at Applejack (not that she would have faltered under his gaze).

“Then ya get it,” Applejack said. “Mac, Ah don’t wanta see a repeat of yer freshmen year. Can ya blame me for wantin’ ta be cautious?”

No, he could not. A memory sparked. A painful memory. Lit aflame by the tinders of the present and now burning brightly in his mind’s eye. The painting of pain that stood there. That hung there, unforgettable.

He shook his head. Applejack’s anger subsided. “Ah’m sorry, Mac. Ah just… Ah don’t want t’see you get hurt, y’know?”

“Eeyup.”

That was when Granny had come back. “What’s all the hubbub about?”

Before either Mac or Applejack could respond, Apple Bloom piped up, “Applejack won’t let Big Mac take out a girl on a date.”

Granny nearly dropped her casserole dish. “You what?!”

She stomped over to Applejack. It looked like she was burning up, and Applejack was sweating under the pressure. “Girlie, since when were you put in charge of whether or not my boy can or cannot give a girl a good time?! That’s my job!”

“G-Granny—”

“Don’t you Granny me, Applejack!” she shrilled. “You ain’t the older female in this household, I’ll have you know!”

Then she stomped over to Big Mac, and laid into his chest a bony finger. “So! Who’s this girl you’ve been wantin’ to take to town?”

Mac blinked. He’d never heard Granny speak so many euphemisms before. Was she feeling all right? “A-actually, it’s a… um… bit more complicated than that…”

“A name! Spit out a name, boy!”

He winced. “Uh… Ink Quill?”

“Y’sure that’s her name?”

“Eeyup!”

“Then why’d you phrase it like a question! Mac, you gotta be assertive! Show me that Apple gumption that only our family has!”

She stomped away, stuck in her own world. “Oh, but this is wonderful! Maybe Ah’ll have grandchildren with the last name Apple finally!”

“Granny!” Mac shouted. “Ah’m in high school!”

“But you’ll soon be in college and then you’ll be off to grad and then in the working world and have a wife and kids!” She said all this in one breath, without once gasping or coughing. It was as if she had been injected with an invisible serum of vitality in that very moment. She would not be contained, no siree; not by her grandson and granddaughters!

“And it’s so nice to see you back in the dating game!” Granny continued from wherever she had stomped off to. “After that nasty business with that Sugar girl, I mean…” Then she was gone, and only Applejack and Apple Bloom noticed the flash of pain across Big Mac’s face.

“Eeyup…”

That led to today. Granny had somehow drudged up a decent suit from someplace in the old farmhouse—by chance, it was exactly Mac’s size. There were no ifs or buts that could suppress her sudden and boundless enthusiasm. Somehow she had become enthralled with the idea of a high school sweetheart (on Big Mac’s behalf, of course), and now was working every string in existence to forge that dream of grandchildren together (much to all of her grandchildren’s embarrassment, no less). She had given him the pocket square, some instructions on how to walk and stand, some money, and even a script to memorize, which he had read to Ink just now and which he knew sounded very artificial. And to top it all off, she had called in a favor from an old friend to get free reservations to a certain restaurant in the city. She was convinced this was Mac’s time to shine.

If only his grandmother could see him now, standing out in the cold, in a suit, waiting for this girl he didn’t exactly know very well to either flip him off or scream at him or worse. He had heard her conversation with Gaige through the door—she wasn’t exactly quiet about it—and had winced; he could see why she might think this was all a joke, and, honestly, he was beginning to wonder if that was what the universe was setting it up to be.

He remembered Granny’s and Applejack’s glares, one for each end of the dating spectrum: one of determined approval, and the other of determined disapproval. He shivered. How could he combat either of those things? No wonder he somehow ended up here on Ink’s porch; there was no way he could have said no.

Maybe I should leave… Though, the only problem with that was that doing so would be incredibly rude. And if there was something Mac did not want to be, it was rude.

So he stood there, rooted in place, the wind whispering incessantly in his ear.

“There’s a boy?!”

“Mom! Not so loud! He can hear you!”

“Well, let him in, Ink. He’s probably freezing out there.”

“That’s besides the point! This has got to be some kind of joke; there’s no way Mac’s here asking me out on a Friday night!”

“And why’s that, dear?”

Ink opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. Her mother regarded her with a frown. “And it would be impolite to not at least let him inside to dry, even if you don’t end up going out with him. Besides, I’d like to meet this boy.”

“Mom, wait—”

She ignored Ink and stepped past her, opening the door and revealing the shivering form of Big Mac. She gestured him inside and closed the door. “Here, take a seat on the sofa, make yourself comfortable and warm up. I’ll get you something warm to drink.”

“Uh, y’don’t have t’do that—”

She was already gone. Now it was just Mac and Ink standing in the foyer, neither willing to look at the either. Mac eventually walked over to the sofa and sat down right next to where Ink had been sitting. The girl followed, but sat down on the opposite sofa, and still would not look at the boy.

Her mother came back and handed Mac a cup of cocoa, before sitting down next to Ink. “So. You want to go out with my daughter?” she said, hands clasped together in her lap.

Mac started, then nodded. “Eeyup.”

“And what do you intend to do tonight?” her mother grilled.

“Jus’ dinner. Ma’am,” he added.

“And where do you intend to dine?”

Mac told her, and even Ink had to bite back a gasp. That was a highly prestigious restaurant; getting any reservations there was normally a hassle. “How’d you get those?” she let herself ask, for the first time showing any interest.

He regarded her, surprised, before managing a small grin. “A few tricks,” he simply said.

Figures. She felt her lips curl up.

As her mother continued to grill the boy like a well-seasoned veteran of the art of dating, Ink found herself taking in his appearance. Despite his clear uncomfortableness with the suit, she had to admit: he looked damn good in it. His frame filled the garment easily. The sleeves were nice and straight, and he even knew that the dress shirt underneath should stick out a little from the jacket’s sleeves. Whoever had dressed him—himself or someone else, not that it mattered—knew what they were doing, and they knew the importance of physical presentation. And the way the whole attire hugged his chest and made his work-muscles stand out—

Ink caught herself with a gasp. Both people turned to her. She blushed. “S-sorry,” she said.

He looks really good…

After a few more minutes of talking, her mother clapped her hands. “Well. Thank you very much for talking with me, Mr. Macintosh.”

“Please, ma’am, call me Big Mac. Everyone does.”

“Very well, Big Mac. Could you wait here a few moments longer? I’d like to speak with my daughter…”

Before either of the kids could protest, Ink’s mother had taken her by the hand and was dragging her away into the hallway, far away from where Mac could hear them. Ink could feel Mac’s questioning gaze settle on her back, before it turned away. She herself was beset by all sorts of questions, none of which her mother appeared willing to answer.

“So?” her mother said. “What do you think?”

“What do you mean? It’s still weird.”

“So it’s not as much of a joke anymore, is it? I saw you looking him over, you know. Good-looking young man, isn’t he?”

Ink’s blush returned full-force. “Y-you—I mean—”

“Come on, Ink! I was a young girl once. I know what it’s like to look over the boy toys. And if I had had a boy who looked like the one downstairs come up and ask me out on a Friday night delight—”

“Ew, Mom!”

Her mom giggled. “All right, I’ll cut the teasing. But you know what you have to do now, though, right?”

“What?”

“You have to give him an answer.”

“What? Mom, wait—”

“Ink.” Her mother placed her hands on her shoulders. She was smiling, proudly even. “He’s a nice boy. I can tell. He definitely would treat you right.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Hazel…”

“Your shipping-obsessed friend? Maybe she knows what she’s talking about, Ink.”

“Mom, it’s just Mac. He’s no… knight in shining armor.”

Her mom pursed her lips. “Maybe not. But I can tell he’s someone different.”

“Aw, Mom. You’re beginning to sound cheesy.”

“A cheesy truth is still the truth, is it not?”

Her mom stepped away. She was still smiling. “As much as I appreciate you wanting to spend the night with me, Ink… I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Hold me back? Mom, what are you talking about?”

Her mom did not seem to have heard her. “You’re young, girl. You’ve got the whole world in front of you. It would be a shame if you blinked and missed it.”

“Mom…”

Her mom fell silent, then, as if caught up in her thoughts, remembering some untold past or present. The wind rattled once, twice, upon the walls of the home; then, it all fell silent, waiting.

“He’s asking you very nicely. And you don’t have any other plans for tonight—I know you don’t.”

Ink shook her head, “Mom, I don’t know if… well, I just don’t know. I’m… I’m just surprised by all this. It has to be a joke. It has to be.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Ink could offer no answer.

“Just think about it for a some time, Ink. Either way, you’ll have to give him an answer before the night is up.”

And then she was gone, gone to wherever she had gone, to leave Ink alone, confused and not the slightest bit happy with what was going on. She fumed for several moments, before putting her hands on her hips and thinking deeply.

She looked down the hall, where, if she leaned just right, she could see the wheat-colored tufts of Big Mac’s hair. He was sitting there, as patient as forever. He seemed perfectly willing to wait for just as long, too. She felt herself smiling. Just a little smile, that was all.

And she found herself wondering. Just wondering.

I suppose…

The night grew long, and it was then that Ink finally came to her answer.