The Sweetest Music

Chapter Twelve

Deception

***

"Lyra!"

The mint mare was immediately crushed in an embrace. Tears welled in her eyes at her mother's loving, tender hug, the feeling of her hooves clenched around her back, the feeling of her fur tickling her nose, the smell of rose perfume and... smoke?

Lyra raised her head, freeing herself from the already-mutual embrace, only to see her mother's mane dishevelled, her eyes red and eyelids heavy, her wrinkles more visible than ever, screaming, deep, flangrant. The odour of cigarette smoke hung in the air - Lyra wouldn't have guessed it, being such an avid smoker, if it weren't for the hints of cherry, the trademark of the cigarettes her mother had once smoked.

Did she pick it up again? Lyra wasn't concerned about her own health; but she was concern about how cigarettes would affect her mother: negatively. Still, she decided that asking about the given-up - or, as it seemed, newly-picked - habit wasn't the best way to start the heavy talk that was already lingering above the two - three? Bon-Bon will want to hear it too, won't she?- mares, threatening to crush them, or, at least, Lyra, unless it was fulfilled.

"Hi, mom," Lyra offered lamely, her hoof rising in a weak greeting. What else could she say?  Sorry I ran away? She wasn't sorry. Mom, here's Bon-Bon, the mare I love? This was ridiculous. What could she say?

The policepony coughed gruffly in an effortless pseudopolite interruption. The dark green mare immediately smiled and reached for a small pouch, extending it in her telekinetic grip.

The pegaus grabbed it with his wing. "Much obliged." He tipped his cap, making anger well in Lyra's chest. That was a gesture of showing respect and honour - and those didn't have any respect or honour. For anypony. But then again, who ever said that the police were your friends? Well, maybe they taught that in school. Lyra didn't know for sure. She had been home-schooled.

"Oh, it's the least I could do!" Lyra's mother cooed, waving off the policepony carefully. "It's the least I could do for bringing my little sunshine back!" She closed the door, looking at the two mares.

Finally, she sighed and placed herself on the floor, as if she were tired ot standing. She probably is, Lyra observed painfully. "I am very sad, angry, and disappointed," the older mare said. Lyra winced.

"Mom, listen, I can explain." Lyra sneezed - the cold still remained, stirring up inside. But how?

"You will." The green mare frowned and stood up, motioning towards the hall. "But before that, let's go to the dining room so we can discuss it." Her eyes fell upon the cream-coloured pony.

"This is Bon-Bon, a friend of mine," Lyra quickly supplied, encouraged by the confectioner's nod. She seems to accept it, even if it's just a show. Was there real friendship, though? Or, maybe... they could skip the stage altogether? Maybe... Maybe they had skipped it already?

"You may stay in the living room, if you wish," Lyra's mother suggested, but the earth pony shook her head firmly.

"I would like to stay for the talk too, if you don't mind," Bon-Bon replied, almost retorted.

The green mare raised her brow at the surprising boldness, but shrugged in a 'well, anyway' way, before proceeding into the hall.

Lyra waited for a moment before taking a hesitant step forth. Home didn't really look like home; just didn't seem like it. The mint mare sighed and hung her head.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof on her shoulder, a wonderful, supportive, cream-coloured hoof. "It's going to be all right," Bon-Bon said softly in her low, almost-rumbling, sweet voice. What else could she say? Still, to both mares, it didn't seem like a screaming and pointless, useless banality. "I know it'll be all right."

Taking a quick look around - nopony to be seen - Lyra placed a short-lived peck on the cream-coloured, now blushing - She is blushing! - cheek. Bon-Bon touched the reddening spot before replying with a similar gesture.

Lyra smiled, and that smile was shared by the confectioner. It wasn't a pact; if anything, it could pass as a friendly gesture - straight mares did that too, didn't they? - but Lyra could see that it was something more. And so could Bon-Bon. And either mare knew that the other knew. It just had to be put in words - but it wasn't time for such words now. If ever.

Now, the words that came out of Bon-Bon's mouth were, "I'm with you." And that was enough for Lyra - for now.

The mint mare sighed and stepped into the hall.

***

Lyra looked around the dining room.

Its regal, prim stateliness had more than once been the ground for heated arguments - Lyra just couldn't bear discussing modern world issues with her mother: not because she disagreed, but because she wanted to at least believe that Equestria evolved, that it was evolving, that it could change and be different (even if she, maybe, did not believe it - in it - herself) - but her mother would, unintentionally, claim otherwise; and that drove Lyra out of her mind. But, without those discussions - be they leading to arguments - there would be very little talking, anyway. And, while Lyra didn't mind it, she somehow, on some level, realised that it was wrong.

Maybe her mother was just old - old enough to be passionless about all the political, societal, economic issues? Or maybe it was a result, a consequence of such self-inflicted pasionlessness that Lyra was inflicting on herself?

The clock struck two, and Lyra lit up a cigarette. It seemed that the whole day had already passed, but it was still afternoon - had the train been a little faster on its way to return her home? Lyra's mother followed the motion, the cherry-flavoured smoke of her cigarette mixing with the rough tobacco of her daughter's.

Lyra frowned. "Mom, I thought you didn't smoke."

The green mare nodded. "I didn't. But you ran away - vanished - and I picked up the habit." Lyra groaned mentally. Great, now I feel responsible. But she was responsible, wasn't she? - at least for that. Or was it an excuse?

The older mare looked at her daughter. Lyra sighed. She had to begin - but how? "I ran away," she said finally, "because I had issues."

The green mare just raised a brow. But of course. There would be no motioning to continue, no troubled "Issues? What issues?" - not anything of the kind. That was her mother's way, and Lyra had learnt to know it and - maybe - to accept it.

"I had issues with working at that damn place with those damn idiots. I had issues with living here - with you - but not because of you but simply... Hell, I don't know!" Lyra slammed her hoof against the table, making Bon-Bon jump in her seat a little, while Lyra's mother, used to such fury - or just fury in general - such outrage, just kept listening.

"I just can't stay here, mom." Lyra felt that she was on the verge of crying now. She couldn't. Not with Bon-Bon near her. She wasn't really afraid of Bon-Bon seeing her tears; she was afraid of Bon-Bon comforting her. Who knew what it could mean - what it could look like - what it could lead to? "I... I'm just sick of the whole place. I needed to move. I can't. I just can't." And now that sounded not only cliche, but pathetic, Lyra regarded herself. But what could she do if it was that way?

Wasn't it?

"I understand," the older mare said. With a sigh, she reiterated, "I understand, sweetie." A few puffs on her long, thin cigarette. "But you could have just told me. I would have understood. We would have come to a solution-"

"I can't, mom. I couldn't," Lyra explained desperately. "I'm sorry that I scared you and made you worried, but I just couldn't - I had this urge to just leave, just run away, just escape." She sighed. "I know you understand me - and I love you - but I just couldn't discuss it with you." Drained, she leaned back in her chair and took a few deep drags.

"Then, maybe..." The green mare paused, placing her cigarette in the ashtray. "Maybe you should see a specialist? A psychiatrist - a doctor - who can help you deal with the issues?" Softer, "Lyra, sweetie, I do care about you, and it pains me to see you like this. Maybe you could try - maybe therapy would help?"

Lyra sighed. Maybe. Maybe it would. Did it change anything, though? Could she tell the psychiatrist her inner worries? Sure. Could she tell the psychiatrist about her mother? Sure. Could she tell the psychiatrist about Bon-Bon? No. At least out of fear of punishment. Maybe there was certain secrecy - privacy, whatever. But didn't any doctor give away a patient who expressed murderous tendencies? Wasn't this the same, in law's stern, hawk-like eye?

"That's why she came to me."

Lyra turned her head towards Bon-Bon, startled by the confectioner's sudden statement. What is she-

"When Lyra came to Ponyville, she was disoriented. She dropped by my office, and I offered my services," Bon-Bon explained in a well-rehearsed - the kind of rehearsed tone only pure improvisation can give - and believeable tone. "I'm a psychiatrist, and I specialise in anxiety disorders and depressions." She offered the green mare a smile. "This is why I insisted on my being present during the talk."

Lyra's mother turned to her daughter for confirmation. Lyra slowly nodded: "It's true."

"Why didn't you tell me at once, sweetie?" Now it was more chiding than a question, so Lyra just replied with a soft, apologetic smile. The fact that she was apologetic for lying to her mother like that didn't change the emotion the gesture conveyed.

"So... Miss Bon-Bon, is it? How are you planning to conduct the treatment?" Lyra's mother enquired. "Will Lyra have to go to Ponyville weekly for your sessions or?"

Bon-Bon shook her head firmly. "No, Miss Heartstrings. It is vital for Lyra to undergo the whole treatment in Ponyville - not because I work there, but because it is the place her subconscious prompted her to go to. It is very important," the mare stated.

"So..." The green mare paused. "At least for a while... Lyra will have to move to Ponyville?" There were hints of mild sadness - accepting sadness - in her voice.

"At least for a while," Bon-Bon confirmed softly. And then a little more. And then we'll live forever and have our happily ever after. The confectioner sighed internally at her dreams.

"All right," the elder mare said finally. "So, Miss Bon-Bon, I assume that Lyra will have to buy a house there? I can arrange that." It was obvious that renting a house, in her opinion, was out of question.

"No, Miss Heartstrings. Lyra has to do it herself." Bon-Bon smiled a little. "And it's just Bon-Bon."

"Well, in that case, I will at least provide the money." Seeing her daughter frown, she shook her head firmly. "I won't take no for an answer, sweetie. You may have your own money, but I am giving you enough bits to buy a nice house and that's it. On condition that you write to me and come to visit regularly." That's the punishment for running away, Lyra observed idly. The green mare turned her head towards Bon-Bon with a smile. "And it's just Marianna."

Bon-Bon nodded, extending her hoof. Marianna Heartstrings shook it. "One little thing, Bon-Bon," she said, as if remembering something. "I couldn't help but notice that your cutie mark depicts sweets. Why have you chosen to become a doctor and not a confectioner?"

"I do own a sweets store," Bon-Bon replied immediately - not too immediately, to seem the lie seem plausible enough. Though, so far, it was no lie. "And I got my cutie mark while making sweets. But I have an assistant run it while I work as a psychiatrist - the job I love."

Don't ask for a license don't ask for a license don't ask for a license, Lyra prayed while Bon-Bon just calmly observed the growing and receding disbelief on Marianna's face. "I needn't tell you that a cutie mark does not shape a pony's destiny, do I, Marianna? You must know, having a glass of wine as your cutie mark and being a musician and - correct me if I'm wrong - a composer?"

Lyra's mother raised her head a little, promting the cream-coloured mare to elaborate.

And so she did. "When you're sitting at table, your hooves don't rest one upon another, but are parallel to each other, with the left never moving into the right's comfort zone. You don't tap your hooves against the floor because that is for guitarists - and a pianist surely knows hooves are meant for pedals. You also keep your back very straight but your head constantly moves - not only your eyes - which is a sign of spending years reading and writing sheet music for whole orchestras - to see the whole score and a particular part at the same time." Bon-Bon smiled at the obviously impressed mare. (Lyra had to admit that she was impressed as well.) "So, I assume that you are a pianist and a composer."

Marianna smiled. "You are quite right, my dear." It was definitely a nice shift from 'Miss Bon-Bon', Lyra thought, still marvelling at how Bon-Bon had managed to guess it so perfectly. Maybe she really was secretly a psychiatrist? "You are very observant. I see now that psychiatry is your calling in life. You read ponies very well."

Bon-Bon smiled in return, taking a small, almost invisble glance at Lyra - but, somehow, the mint mare immediately knew that the reply would be for her - about her.

"That's what I do."