The Snow on Her Cheek

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Learnin' the Blues

***

"Repeat."

Octavia placed the glass on the bar counter with an audible sound. Although her mind was hazy already due to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, she wasn't drunk yet. And she indeed wanted to bury her troubles at the bottom of the glass, drinking herself into oblivion.

The bartender poured whisky into the glass, eyeing the grey mare carefully, lest she do something inappropriate. Octavia pondered for a moment and tapped her glass - her vial with the soothing ability to pave the road to losing contact with the grim reality.

"Make it a double, will you?"

The bartender obeyed, tossing his light brown mane away as he tinkered with the bottle, years of experience providing the perfect angle, the precise amount of the liquid ending up in the vial. He opened his mouth, eliciting a frown from the mare.

I swear, if he's gonna ask something like, "Why the long face?" or something... she thought, having no desire to have any kind of conversation.

"Pardon my asking, but you don't seem the type of pony to come to a bar and down five glasses of whisky in a row," the bartender finally said, his dark brown coat shimmering from the flickering lighting provided by the lamps above the counter.

"Do I?" Octavia replied automatically, without thinking as she took a sip of her drink, shivering a little at the warm bite that Scoltish whisky provided.

"No, you don't," the stallion confirmed, looking at the grey mare. "Ponies will come to my place and get drunk till they can't form any kind of speech or thoughts, but you seem different." He trotted off to serve a drink to another customer, of which there were surprisingly few, before returning to his previous location. "Something on your mind?" he enquired.

"None of your business," the cellist brushed him off, downing the glass in one gulp. Anger was quickly replacing apathy, building inside her as she realised the whole unfairness of the situation. Why did it have to be her mother? Surely, she had done nothing to deserve it...

Silence hung in the small bar, interrupted only by the chatter of the few other visitors and smooth jazz music flowing from the speakers. Ponies are getting the hang of the new music, Octavia thought, fighting memories of losing her prized job because of some ponies' inability to put up with the fact that jazz was slowly but steadily making its way to the top of the music world. Slowly?.. The grey pony pondered for a moment. No. Jazz had skyrocketed up from the bottom of musical genres, sweeping off everything on its path, swiftly, firmly, and surely.

"You own the place, don't you?" she wondered suddenly, surprised at how her subconsciousness dragged her into a talk, despite her own desire to stay away from it.

The bartender nodded, not seeming offended in the slightest, years of experience telling him not to take anything said by the customers close to heart.

"It's very nice," Octavia carried on. "Makes me forget things." Great. Now I'm being open with a bartender, she scolded herself mentally. And in the middle of the night, no less. Congratulations, Octavia, you're officially a drunkard.

"And what exactly, may I ask, do you want to forget?"

"Stuff." Octavia moved the glass to the bartender, who filled it, mild curiosity evident on his face.

"I see," the brown stallion replied, nodding. "Some stuff just happens, doesn't it?" he posed a rhetorical question with a shrug.

"No it doesn't!" Octavia shouted, slamming her hoof against the counter angrily, drawing attention, the other customers casting her questioning glances before returning to their drinks. "...I'm sorry," the cellist apologised with a heavy sigh. "I'm really feeling terrible now," she explained, rubbing her temples. "My mother's committed suicide," she blurted out, immediately chiding herself mentally for revealing this information.

"I see." The bartender shifted uneasily and topped the glass. "On the house," he said, moving the drink closed to Octavia, who nodded and downed half of her whisky in one gulp. The alcohol tinkered with her mind, making her more open and emotional.

"My brother was killed in the war, and she couldn't bear it," she carried on, inspecting the amber liquid in her glass.

The brown stallion sighed and shook his head in lament. "War..." he whispered to nopony in particular. "War always comes side by side with tragedy. I'm sorry for your loss," he added solemnly.

"Thanks, I guess." Octavia shrugged, having no need for his sympathy. "It's easy to say, hard to feel," she added, trying, however, not to repeat her previous mistake and offend the bartender.

"It is," the stallion replied simply. "I have experienced loss of family members as well," he said, his painful, but calm look giving away the fact that he was talking about the events long swallowed by time, now mere shadows of the past.

Octavia gulped, looking at the stallion, inspecting his face closely. Only now had she noticed that he, in fact, was not old, as most bartenders were; on the contrary, he was quite young, in his early thirties, or even late twenties. "Does... does the pain ever fade away?" she asked suddenly, the question that had been bugging her subconsciousness finally taking verbal form.

The bartender chuckled sadly and shook his head. "No." He looked up, as if he were inspecting the blank unelaborate ceiling. "No," he repeated firmly. "The pain never fades away."

"I see." Octavia fell silent, thinking over the information she'd just received. Of course. It would be foolish to assume that the terrible feeling of emptiness and the weight of pain would ever leave her mind.

"But you learn to live with it."

"Huh?" Octavia raised her head, the bartender's eyes meeting hers. His gaze was tired, and he himself looked very weary, as if he were fed up with life itself and had no joy in living on.

"You lose interest in life, sure," the stallion elaborated, not averting his eyes for a second. "You lose integrity, and industry, and everything that used to make you whole. But you move on." He chuckled slightly. "You find friends, and your love, and you forget..." The bartender frowned. "No, you don't forget - you simply do not focus on the past. It will always remain. But you learn to live with it."

Octavia met the stallion's tirade with silence, lost in mental contemplation. The pain would never fade away. She would never forget - such a privilege was off her limits. But... she had found love. She had found something to focus on, to concentrate all her emotion on. Somepony to love. Vinyl.

Suddenly, she cellist felt guilt sting her insides. She hadn't spent enough time with Vinyl. She hadn't expressed her love enough. She hadn't paid enough attention to her lover's problems. And now she was determined to change it. Maybe it was just the alcohol speaking, but she knew that, although the memories would always haunt her, she would manage to move on - with Vinyl by her side.

She got up and placed a dozen of bits on the counter with a warm smile. "Thank you," she said. "For the drinks... and for everything."

"My pleasure," the stallion replied and watched the mare leave, his gaze averted, his mind lost in deep shadows of the past.

***

Vinyl rolled over and frowned. For the umpteenth time this night, as it seemed to her. Where are you, Tavi? she thought lamentably, a weary sigh escaping her lips. I'm worried...

The pianist wanted to fall asleep: the recent events were hitting hard on her, even though she wasn't directly involved in them; but, given her lover's absence, she just couldn't. She was worried sick about Octavia, and that feeling was bugging her so much that any thought of falling asleep was left out.

The door opened quietly, and a shadow resembling a pony entered the spacious bedroom, silently closing the door behind her, swaying slightly. The scent of alcohol filled the room, making Vinyl turn towards the silhouette. She saw it to be her lover, and exhaled in relief. After all, Octavia had just gone out to a bar to drink her worries away - it was natural and didn't frighten her. However, when her cellist lay next to her with a smile, kissing her on the forehead, something told Vinyl that something had changed. Isn't she supposed to be... heartbroken? she wondered idly, though, glad that her mare was feeling at least a little better.

"Tavi?" the white unicorn asked, hugging her marefriend tight, the blanket of sleep finally reaching its destination. "How are you?"

The cellist chuckled at Vinyl's sleepy haze and stroked her mane gently. "I feel better, love." She looked out of the window, the constellations winking at her, the moon smiling at the two lovers. "I honestly feel better."

***

Meanwhile, at the bar, the brown stallion closed the door and exhaled. The visitors were gone; he could finally tend to his own needs now, the main one being the need for sleep. As he passed the bar counter, he stopped for a moment, looking at a worn out photograph just behind the counter, hidden from the customers' eyes. A laughing mare was looking at him from the picture, a small colt playing nearby. A tear crawled down the bartender's cheek as he looked up to the ceiling, trying to pierce it with his eyes and reach the sky.

"I miss you, Mother," he whispered. "More than ever."

He kissed the photograph and put it back, turning off the lights.