…
…
sanguine
Red and the six people who mattered most to him
his mother
…
…
and so she woke up
woke up from where she was
lying still
said I gotta do something
about where we're going
She should have expected this from the beginning, from the moment that she first held him in her arms.
She stares out of an empty bedroom window, glances once at the open empty closet where his bike and his shirts and his shoes are missing. She ignores the bed, sheets still ruffled from the night's sleep.
He was Red. He was her Red, and now he's just another boy, left home with big dreams and little hands. She knows she won't see him until those hands are big and those shoes (and those dreams) are long since worn out. Then he won't be her Red anymore, all cynicism and regret and no youth and energy and desire.
She should have expected this from the beginning, from the moment his father did the same thing.
She makes herself a bowl of soup, the only food her stomach can tolerate right now. The rain outside the window rattles the tin siding on the house, and wind pulls at the gutters. The house is old, after all, and she thinks that perhaps she ought to fix it up sometime soon.
No wonder he'd fled. Living in this backwards little town in the middle of nowhere. He is destined for bigger and better things, and her time has already run out.
She wants to scream. No matter what, she's going to lose.
Not Red, though. Even at the age of ten, he's smart enough to see that all he's doing is standing still, here in this little town. (Not that the rest of the world will treat him much better, though, because even when you're at the top of the highest hill, you're always running just to stand still, just to breathe.)
She should have expected this from the beginning, from the moment he first laid his eyes on one of those creatures called a pokemon.
She stares at a photograph of the pair of them when he was younger and more innocent than he is now. Identical hair, identical eyes. If it wasn't for wedding photos and memories, she could swear that there had never been a father, that Red was just a miracle from one of the gods.
He's just like his father, though. None of the quiet compassion that she has. He's all movement and action and belief, with enough willpower to take on the world single-handed.
Now it's just her and this old house and the storms and the crackling from the radio as she hopes that he's somewhere safe, that he's happy, that he can survive the storms of his journey better than she did.
For the longest time, she only wishes that he would call. He never does.
She should have expected this from the beginning, from the moment he stepped out that door, all smiles and laughter, and disappeared, running, into the world.
…
…
Author's Note: A six-part challenge to get my writing side flowing again. Each chapter covers a different person and is inspired by a different random song. The time limit for each was fifteen minutes.
Nonpairing, but you can take them as you will. This is gameverse Red that we're talking about, for the record.
"Running to Stand Still" by U2. Perfect for Red and his mother.
By the way, I don't own Pokemon (Nintendo does) or any of the songs (U2 does).