Pokegear
*RING* *RING* Call from Mom.
I know you mean well.
I already know what you'll say.
The endless array of packages and gifts you send me aren't for me, they're for you.
I love you dearly, mother, but do you know why I left? It was the only way I could be free of your overbearing protectiveness.
I know you say I never call you, but that's because you call me enough for both of us.
It was hard when Chrissy died, I know. I was there, and I couldn't save my own sister from the Gyarados. How do you think I feel? But all you could think of was how no one was good enough to save your baby girl. You blamed me and father.
I know that was why he left. Because you were sucking the life out of him; constantly, endlessly reproaching him for letting Chrissy die. As if father hadn't done everything, everything, to try and save her. She was his daughter, too.
I know you didn't mean to hurt him. You thought that no one could tell you blamed father, that you'd melodramatically suffer in silence for what he had done. You were wrong. Everyone knew who you thought was at fault.
And when you had lost Chrissy and father, you became so terrified I'd leave or die or not love you anymore that you smothered me, and I had to leave just to breathe.
You're always telling me on the phone what a good, sweet girl Lyra-across-the-way is. I know, mother. I know her better than you do, I'm sure, and I know that she's an amazing, talented, wonderful girl. But that's not why you love her.
You love Lyra because she stays at home, and stays with her parents. Because she hasn't even started her Pokemon journey yet.
We were going to go on our journey together, as best friends and rivals, since Professor Elm told us that was proper, even though we could never think of ourselves as rivals. We were allies.
She wasn't ready when she was ten, and I wasn't sure I was, either. So we both waited a while, to see if we would be ready next year. And then Chrissy died, and father left, and by the time we were eleven, I couldn't stand living with you any more.
She understood. She smiled, and told me to go off on my adventures with Silver, and we both knew she what she meant: Silver and not me.
So I did. She offered a gift much more valuable than all the berries you could ever send me, and I took it, unthinkingly. Sometimes I hate you for forcing me to leave Lyra, who was my best friend, behind. She isn't much of a friend any more, though it isn't for lack of effort from either of us. Our lives are too different now, and it's awkward and strange.
I escaped your clinging fingers, at a price I didn't fully recognize then. I have few acquaintances, and fewer friends. No home, and no family. Do you know how long it's been since I slept somewhere besides a Pokecenter or my tent?
Sometimes, irony mocks me, and I eat some of the berries you've sent for my dinner. A dinner I eat in a cold, lonely tent, because I'm trying to escape you.
But most of the time, I just let the messenger boy hold on to my packages for ages, because I don't stop at Pokemarts often. And when I do, I sometimes sneak past him to buy my Pokeballs, and I let him hold on to them for another age.
You call so often now. Do you know how you're losing me? Is this how you try to stop the slow, steady tide of forgetfulness?
The first time I ignored you was by accident. I was running in the Pokeathlon, and I happened to hit the Terminate Call button right as you rang. I did call you back and explain, mother, as soon as I was finished running.
The second time I ignored you was because I was talking with Silver, which is rare, and he wasn't spitting fire, which is rarer. It was important, mother, and I could always call you back.
The third time I ignored you, you had already called twice that day, and I was exhausted. I listened to your message, once you had hung up, but I didn't need to call you back. So I didn't.
I'm tempted to stop sending the usual portion of my winnings to you. You would stop sending me random little oddities, at least, and then you'd stop calling to tell me about it. But I know you haven't worked since—well, since I left. Lyra told me.
You would starve without my money.
So I accept your gifts, even if I leave them in the grubby hands of the messenger boy for months at a time.
I accept what you try to tell me through them, and I think I know better than you do what you're trying to say; don't leave me. Do you know what you don't say? 'I love you.'
I'll keep sending you money, and you'll keep sending me gifts.
But I can't pick up the Pokegear and talk to you, no matter how many times you call me.
*RING* *RING* Call from Mom.
...
…
Call Terminated.
