The Sweetest Music

Chapter Sixteen

Time After Time

***

Lyra groaned and tossed the paper into the dust bin.

The letter was proving realy difficult to write, especially given Lyra's cold - at least she assumed it was cold - that was hindering her progress with constant coughing. Lyra lit up a cigarette. Bon-Bon had suggested that she smoke less, given the illness - but Lyra was already smoking less, wasn't she? Besides, nicotine had a soothing effect on her.

Dear Mom,

Lyra paused, resting the quill on the paper. She couldn't get past 'Dear Mom'. The mare erupted in a coughing fit, catching a disapproving glance from Bon-Bon, who tried to chide softly, "Honey, you really should take some pills. You could catch pneumonia."

Lyra shrugged, leaning back in the comfortable chair. The living room at Bon-Bon's was definitely a wonderful place. In the evening. With curtains closed and voices if not a little muffled, but not too loud. "You know I get stomachache from pills, Bonnie. That's just a cold." She sighed, staring at the near-blank piece of paper. "It's been - what? Ten days? A fortnight? I'm sure mom insisted on weekly letters." She sneezed. "Not sure why she hasn't written yet - or showed up at the door." The lyrist chuckled, taking a drag of her cigarette.

This Saturday evening was especially cold, as it seemed: ponies hadn't really visited the store during the day, contrary to their usual weekend rush; also, Lyra had to cuddle in the woolen plaid that Bon-Bon had provided (although she was waiting till night to cuddle with Bon-Bon herself): fantastically enough, this plaid didn't make her itch. Maybe it was just Canterlot wool she was allergic to, Lyra mused half-jokingly.

"Well, you should have written a letter in advance," Bon-Bon chided her mare softly, reminding Lyra of her grandfather, who always insisted on doing everything 'in advance'. "You had plently of time. So hurry up and think of something so we can go have a sexy time." The confectioner winked, her words having an immediate positive effect on the mint mare.

"You know, it's because of the sexy times that I couldn't find enough time to write a letter to mom," Lyra grumbled, even though insde, she was already - always - ready to have another sexy time with the wonderful sweet mare. With her mare.

"Oh?" Bon-Bon raised a brow in mocking amusement. "Then, maybe, we should suspend sexy times for today? Or the whole weekend?" It was so nice, just talking to her mare, just exchanging jokes - and also not being afraid of being noticed, overheard; not being cautious about what to say. But, of course, it only applied to the comfort of home - their home. And not just because now, Lyra pays the bills too, Bon-Bon chuckled to herself.

"No!" Lyra blurted out quickly, a thick blush covering her face. "You know how much I like our sexy times," she admitted. And now I've used the phrase 'sexy times' how many times? "And don't tell me you don't," Lyra smirked. She moved closer to the cream-coloured mare. "Don't tell me you don't like it when I put my little skilful tongue in your sweet longing-"

"I do!" Bon-Bon almost shrieked, her voice restrained only by years of self-control. She felt sweat forming upon her brow. Regaining her composure, "Now go write that letter and we'll go to the bedroom."

Lyra saluted to her winking mare. "Yes ma'am! Straight away, ma'am!" Even the military humour, usually disgusting to her, seemed funny in Bon-Bon presence. What if I was a pegasus? a thought ran through her mind. I'd have to serve in the army and-

And I need to write the letter, Lyra reminded herself, wary of her mind's habit of roaming about. She sighed and looked at her mare. Her head was still devoid of ideas. Squinting her eyes, she noticed that the book Bon-Bon was reading was unusual. "You can read Zebric?" Lyra exclaimed in amusement.

Bon-Bon nodded with a smile. "I took up foreign languages in college, you know." She placed the book on the desk, cover up. "It's a book on ancient zebra myths. Pretty interesting."

"I thought they didn't sell foreign-printed books," Lyra observed, having no particular interest in zebra myths. Of course, they did have books in zebric - Equestria-printed. Yes. "We" have. Because, apparently, I am part of something greater than myself. But wasn't she? Whether she wanted it or not, she was part of something greater - the Equestrian nation, for example; even if she sometimes wanted for this nation to perish. But those thoughts were washed away by the reminder of some good ponies who were also Equestrians: her mother. Her grandparents. Bon-Bon.

"They do." Bon-Bon smiled. "Studying original literature and all that. The delivery may take a while, though," she lamented, "and they don't have a wide choice." At least the books are new. Or they seem so. But those label tags that I always have to take off and that leave such stains! "But I guess you just roll with what you have."

"Yes, Bonnie." Lyra stared at the wall for a moment. "You roll with what you have." Before she could give in to philosophical thoughts, however - the kind of thoughts nagging her - the difference of understanding, the shift between her and herself and herself and the others - the kind of thoughts leading to thoughts to thoughts and to thoughts again and against - so that she just labelled them 'thoughts', for her sanity's sake -  she felt her mare's breath on her ear.

"You have me," the earth pony whispered into the mint mare's ear. Lyra smiled and got off the chair, pinning her mare to the floor, the soft, warm carpet tickling their fur.

"And I just love to roll with you," Lyra purred into the cream-coloured ear. "Now, what do you say if we-"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Lyra groaned, her weight still preventing Bon-Bon from moving freely. "Don't open, Bonnie. Let's wait till they go away and then have our sexy times, mhm?" She nibbled on her mare's ear. She knew it was unachievable. They had to open the door. What if it was the police? Lyra really hoped it was not. Can't they just leave us alone in our little private haven?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Honey, I have to get the door," Bon-Bon insisted softly, making Lyra roll over and get to her hooves grudgingly. The lyrist watched her mare get the door, praying mentally that it wouldn't be the police. Can't they just leave us alone? she reiterated inside of her mind.

"Lyra, could you come here for a moment?" Bon-Bon's voice reached the mint ears. The lyrist sighed, hesitation urging her to stay, and trotted into the store; or, more exactly, the store room. ("The room with the counter", as Lyra's mind titled it.)

She almost froze at the sight of a police pegasus standing there idly, looking around. Was it the same pegasus who had escorted her to her mom? She realised she couldn't remember. But weren't police ponies all the same - and not just because of the uniform?

The other visitor was wearing a smart suit that covered his brown fur, his beige mane neatly groomed in the way only earth ponies can groom it. Because they don't have horns to curl the hair around, Lyra thought idly as she caught a glimpse of Bon-Bon's perfect mane. She could swear it was a little messy some two minutes ago. Does Bonnie have some super earth-pony-confectioner-mane-making magic?

"Good evening, Miss Heartstrings," the suit-wearing stallion greeted the mint mare. "I am sorry to interrupt you so late, but you must forgive me: it's my job." He passed a business card to Lyra while turning to the police stallion. "Thank you for your help locating my client." He nodded towards the police pony, who picked up a small pouch from the brown stallion's hooves and tapped his cap before vanishing into the night. "Client?" Lyra blinked in confusion, watching Bon-Bon close the door just after the pegasus left.

"Miss Lyra Heartstrings." The stallion bowed his head a little. Seeing Lyra's motion to reach for her saddlebag, he waved his hooves in the air, "Please, there is no need for a passport. You look just like your mother." A sad, artificial smile appeared on his face. Well, after all, we don't need to produce passports all the time, Lyra thought about her habit, born - maybe - out of the sheer mistrust reigning - or, at least, present - in the society.

Lyra immediately didn't like the stallion. Maybe it was because of his outlook - as ashamed as she was to admit it - was she? - she knew that outlook did matter to her. Maybe it was because he'd mentioned her mother. Maybe... Maybe it was because he was the exact stallion whom she saw in that bar in Canterlot - the very stallion who, as if was apparent, had reported on the two filly-fooling mares in the bar. Well, they pay money for that, Lyra shrugged mentally. Now that she was in a relationship herself, it was strange to feel such lack of passion towards fellow filly-foolers. Maybe that's because I don't go making out in public so that it prompts even more hate towards gay ponies.

"I hate to be a bearer of bad news, but I am afraid that you..." The stallion seemed to have stumbled upon his own words. He cleared his throat. "As your mother's lawyer, I have to inform you that Miss Marianna Heartstrings is dead, as of yesterday evening, ten twenty-eight p.m."

Lyra stared at the lawyer. What was the first stage of whatever she was supposed to feel? Anger? Or was that the second stage? She couldn't say that... She didn't even want to say anything. There was no disbelief, no emotion, not even lack of emotion. Just, maybe, exhaustion. And not just because of the mentioning of her mother. Her brain was refusing to register the meaning behind the stallion's words. If her mother was dead - she would definitely grieve later. But... She wasn't dead, was she? This wasn't a shitty detective novel, and this was all just some tricky plot. Wasn't the whole life a novel though? Lyra was too tired for even thoughts.

"Get out," she exhaled, closing her eyes. "I don't wanna see you." She directed her hooves towards the living room.

"I understand," the lawyer began to say, "I will come back tomorrow, when-"

"Just get out," Bon-Bon snapped, practically shoving him out of the door. She closed it, locked it, and leant against it, releasing her breath. She couldn't lament or think now. Lyra needed her. She trotted into the living room, where the mint mare was lying on the floor dumbly.

"Lyra, honey-" Bon-Bon began, lying next to her mare, but the lyrist interrupted her with a sharp shake of her head.

"No, Bonnie. Just hush." She exhaled into her mare's cream-coloured fur, lying in Bon-Bon's lap. "I don't- I just don't. Okay?"

Bon-Bon bit back emotion. "Okay."

Lyra watched the paper on the desk. What was she supposed to write now? "Dear mom, I just heard you're dead. Can you believe that?" or something of the kind? This was getting ridiculous. This was all too ridiculous. Why did those things - just things - keep happening? Couldn't life just leave them alone - her and her mare? Hell, I don't want rights. I don't want equality or legal marriage or whatever. I just want to be with her. She just wanted to settle down. But, as soon as she thought she had finally settled down, life had another gambit up its sleeve. Lyra closed her eyes, her head devoid of thoughts - or thought, her heart devoid of emotion - maybe apart from warm love towards her mare, who was brushing her hair with her hoof: the mare she so desperately wanted to settle down with. The mint mare sighed.

Will I ever settle down?