Author's Note: So after I laid out my entire plans for this short story, it appears it will be no more than five chapters. Originally, I had planned four chapters, but an extra chapter was begging to be done. ;) I hope to still post once a month, and maybe even twice this month because of school drawing to a close for spring break... but we'll see! I can't promise anything.
May I say however, that this chapter took a long time for me to construct. I don't know why, it just did. I had a whole slew of ideas laid out for it since the beginning, but for some reason it was challenging for me to piece it all together at first. It's like that kind of writer's block where you know WHAT to write but it won't come out into words when you type it...Hopefully the product is solid though! I've slaved a good few hours over this to make sure it was worthy of being posted. And of course, I truly hope my beta reader will enjoy every ounce of chapter two! Thank you again for being soooo patient with me! My sister and I also read over it a few times, so hopefully it is mostly free of errors.
DISCLAIMER: Pokémon belongs to Satoshi Tajiri. My oc's belong to me.
Junk of the Heart
Chapter 2
Heartfelt Words
Everything was in order that morning.
Right after breakfast the whole Ketchum household was in preparation for the big task ahead. While taking on kitchen duty, Brock and Delia worked at a decent pace, putting away every spotless dish, as well as both scrubbing and attending to the full dishwasher. As for Misty and Ash, they kept themselves occupied with bed making and laundry, which Ash lazily participated in. He wasn't much for chores to begin with, but the big day ahead was the true perpetrator of his cankerous state. For the most part, Ash kept quiet during breakfast and found difficulty pulling himself out of bed. Half of the night he had dreads for the big cleaning spruce in the attic, his stomach rumbling with sincere worries. The pros to taking time off from training were beginning to look dismal compared to all the frightful possibilities of exploring the attic.
Too many thoughts stirred within his mind, both of his excitable mother and friends. The inclination of Delia showing off all his embarrassing tokens of childhood screamed of ridicule and jeers from his traveling companions, a cluster of impending mock filled laughs making to the top of his worst nightmare list. Thinking such predictions Ash knew was foolish to a point. Misty and Brock weren't like that. Never had they made him feel so low and pathetic, similar to how Gary and the past neighborhood bullies did. Still, it was a feeling Ash couldn't help but entertain. After all, he had received plenty of snide remarks and harsh chortles in the past. Being called a "mama's boy" took the cake, and he feared heavily that whatever was stored away in that attic was enough evidence to make that demeaning name official with source material.
Why can't Mom just wait to clean out the attic when Brock and Misty AREN'T here? Ash silently wondered to himself, insecure eyes peering back and forth between his two relaxed friends. I mean, I know she'd miss the sale and everything but she can sell her stuff another time. And I wouldn't mind helping, but with them here... A sigh slipped from his lips, and another gleam of worry shown through his chocolate hue. I just found some great friends! I don't want them not to treat me the same way anymore. What will they think? Will they still like me? Then, he gulped with fidgety fingers. Maybe I'm over thinking this- but still I don't have a good feeling about this...
Standing with tense muscles at the top of the stairs, Ash waited for his mother to return from her last minute venture of gathering of supplies with Brock and Misty at each of his sides. Mr. Mime waited with them as well, standing with his own prepared damp cloth and duster. He was to take on the job of cleaning the items being wished to sell, while Pikachu and Togepi helped 'sort' what was stored above. The plan Delia concocted the night before seemed to be logical and easy to follow. If they all worked together there was no reason for anyone to complain...
Misty in particular, peered a curious eye at Pikachu and how the mouse couldn't manage to snag a smile from the corner of his trainer's mouth. All morning the girl had observed her usually lively friend to be rather quiet, which was out of the norm for the kid who jumped out of bed with so much enthusiasm for the day that he had enough energy for three people. That and Ash's lack of a ravenous appetite during breakfast was another dead giveaway in itself, stirring a genuine worry within Misty. She didn't understand why Ash's behavior bothered her, but nonetheless could not dismiss as being nothing.
"You okay, Ash?" the redhead spoke up with a touch of concern. "You seem kind of anxious."
"I'm not anxious," the raven-haired boy answered quickly. "Why would I be anxious? I'm good."
Creased red eyebrows reared their way at Ash, till the sound of a pleasant soprano voice spoke up the stairs. "Sorry about that, kids; just rounding up the cleaning supplies!" Delia revealed herself with a warm smile as she sat down a box of various disinfectant bottles, rags, and a couple of dusters in the hall. She was in a chipper mood, much more enthralled with the task ahead than her frowning son.
Brock smiled back at her explanation. "No problem Mrs. Ketchum." From there, the breeder in the making observed Delia fiddling with the heavy foldout stepladder, immediately feeling the need to lend a hand. "Here, let me get that for you," he offered promptly with swift feet.
Delia grinned back as he took charge and lined the stepladder up with the attic door above. "Oh thank you, Brock…"
In no time at all the ladder was already up and ready to go, and that haunting door would fall open at the tug of the metal bar at any minute… Ash's throat slid down another gulp as he stood by anxiously, and Misty's eyes weren't timid at all of gazing back at her unnerved friend. Then, the sea-green hue grew in surprise.
"Ash, you're shaking a little," Misty commented, though her tone was nothing but soft and concern.
Chocolate eyes refused to gleam at her. "No I'm not."
Another lowering of her mouth and eyebrows reigned across Misty's face. She didn't see the need for Ash to get this agitated over a pile of old forgotten things. Sure the attic was bound to hold embarrassing items that would make Ash's cheeks a dark red, and yes, Misty believed he wouldn't care for the way his mother would most likely react to the findings like any other ten year old. But so what? It wasn't worth him working himself up into a panic attack, and at least he had childhood tokens his mother managed to keep. Unlike some who would be grateful….
"Ash, if you're nervous about going up there then just say so," the redhead finally blurted, not at all shy in her declaration.
"I said I'm not, Misty. Jeez," scoffed Ash with a head twirl, "get off my back."
Get off his back? All she was trying to do was help! A twinge of annoyance burned inside Misty, and she was about to let him have at it, till the same soprano voice thankfully ended the beginning of the first argument for the day.
Delia looked to all three of the kids with absentminded eyes. "All right," she proclaimed excitedly. "Everyone ready?"
A huff was heard somewhere in the huddling of the kids.
"Yeah, I guess..."
Ash's silent resistance hadn't changed much as his mother took liberty of checking the available space. With a slight propping of the trapdoor, Delia's chestnut eyes squinted, already meeting what looked like a grouping of dust-bunnies. Anticipation however, didn't fully bloom inside Ash till his mom at last swung the small door open all the way, making way into the small space with just a flashlight in tow.
"Be careful Mrs. Ketchum," Brock was the first to say.
Cautious eyes watched Delia as she crawled on her hands and knees, her presence eventually slipping into the dark space above. Sounds of faint rattling of boxes and footsteps bounced in the trainers' eardrums, alerting them to Delia to shuffling about in the dark. In no time at all, she managed to locate the small chain dangling from the ceiling, discovering with one single poll that the lightbulb still operated. It flickered for a moment before steadily lighting the attic, and then with a quick skimming of the crowded room, Delia felt the security was fairly sound.
"All right!" she called from above. "I think it's okay for you three to come up now. I've got the light working."
"Okay," Brock replied. "We're comin' up!"
Being a gentleman, Brock let Misty be the first to climb up the stepladder. He and Ash watching her back as she carefully traveled with Togepi in her arms, soon earning a helpful hand from Delia on the first step into the attic.
"Watch your step," she warned with a motherly voice.
Graciously Misty took her hand and settled herself on the creaky boards, skimming the attic and all its contents. It wasn't too much colder than the house itself and while it was dusty, the attic wasn't filled with gigantic cobwebs hanging on the walls or massive dust-bunnies peaking around the corner. The dirtiness was just- minimal. There were many boxes, all stacked neatly with labels and taped down lids. Lamps and other tall items were also lined up against the walls, everything mostly out of the way to prevent any tripping hazards. Delia may have collected many things, but at least all her belongings were fairly organized in the dusty cluttered space.
"Wow," Misty gaped, eyes traveling across the dim-lit attic. "This attic is so small."
Delia placed her hands on her hips as her gaze journeyed too. "Yeah, but it's held a lot over the years for us," she agreed with a faint smile.
Shortly after Misty's arrival into the attic, Ash, Pikachu, and Brock emerged with the cleaning supplies, leaving Mr. Mime below in the house still waiting to fulfill his part in the big project.
Seeing they were all gathered, Delia gave the okay to start in. "Go ahead and pick a spot of where you guys want to sort. And maybe one of you wouldn't mind handing the things we want to sell to Mimie to clean outside?"
Immediately, Brock raised his hand. "I can do it!" He never minded any extra jobs. The idea of cleaning excited him, while most turned the chore away and forget about it in a month's time.
Delia smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Brock. Now, I think a lot of my things are over here..."
As Delia went about in her search for personal items, the initiative for Ash to do the same was left unspoken. And while he stood unmotivated, Misty decided to give the little push he so desperately needed. A promise had been made to his mother to partake in the less than thrilling task, and while Misty knew Ash not so secretly wanted no part in it, she knew deep down Ash didn't like to disappoint him mom. She just wondered how far her friend was going to take this little disinterested charade.
"So is there any spot you want to sort Ash?" the redhead casually asked, setting Togepi down to explore the space with Pikachu.
"I dunno," Ash shrugged, glancing about. "It all looks the same to me. A bunch of piles of boxes and Mom's extra décor."
Before Misty could respond to that, Delia's voice rang over the cramped attic. She glanced over to her son, already sorting through a box of what looked like to be old china dishes. "Ash honey, the boxes should be labeled so anything with your name on it go ahead and look," the mother explained, making two piles of dishes she wished to discard and keep.
Ash kept his bitterness for the task inside as he replied. "Okay, Mom."
"But let me look at what you find too!" Delia suddenly interjected as her son was about to locate one of his prized boxes of 'treasures'. "I don't want you throwing anything away that matters!"
That, he couldn't help but internally scoff at. Yeah, Ash silently grumbled, stuff that matters to you…
"So can we start anywhere?"
His internal dialogue was stopped at the questioning of Brock, which filled his already dreading mind with more worry as Delia beamed an innocent smile back.
"Sure, Brock, Misty. Just pick a pile," Ash's mother instructed.
"All right."
Wandering eyes watched Brock and Misty closely as they began their digging through piles. Brock picking a taller heavier stack, while she stuck to lightly backed belongings. Anxiety soared however in Ash, as Misty opened a cardboard box. And by the pulling back of duct tape, she discovered a small variety of shower curtains as well as kitchen ones. To Ash's relief, he sighed.
"How about these curtains Mrs. Ketchum?" he heard Misty ask.
With a soft creak of her knees Delia rose to take a look at the find. It took her a minute, but she soon recalled the purchasing of those curtains, the particular floral pattern one Misty was holding up... back when Ash was just an infant.
"Go ahead and hand those to Mimie," Delia sooner than later decided. "I've got so much stuff it's about time to let those go," she added, gawking at her surroundings. She almost felt embarrassed for letting the attic go so long without permitting in a single peak of light in the bleak darkness- other than simply adding more storage then closing it again.
Across the short space, Ash again, couldn't resist a sarcastic roll of his eyes at his mom's comment. "Yeah, and let go of my stuff…" If only wishes like that could come true.
Soon after, Delia was already passing the sorted dishes for Brock to put in the cleansed hands of Mr. Mime. At the fast rate she was going, Ash needed to pick up the pace of his sorting, before everyone looked to him and his still filled sections of boxes.
Coming by with a steady armful of plates and bowls, Brock glanced at his friend. "Did you say something, Ash?" he questioned, lowering is filled arms down in the opening for Mr. Mime to empty.
Ash grew anxious for a moment, turning his guilty expression away. "Uh, no."
At the same time a sneeze slipped from Pikachu's petite nostrils, accidentally taking in the whiff of some dust Togepi decided to knock off of Ash's box with playful feet. Hopping down, Togepi ignorantly skittered to Misty for whatever reason, and left Pikachu scrunching his nose in dislike.
"You okay buddy?" Ash softly asked, petting the back of the mouse's neck as he crouched down. Then, in the absentminded act of letting his eyes travel, Ash's expression eventually morphed into something horrific. "Hmm?" Shortly after, a gasp fell. Thanks to Togepi smearing away a thin layer of dust on the box in front of him, a titled written in black sharpie, was uncovered. A very embarrassing one at that.
I can't let Misty and Brock see this! Panicked, Ash's eyes gleamed behind his shoulder. Brock was busy doing a balancing act as he held clanging rusty wind chimes and Christmas wreaths, much too distracted in not dropping anything to take notice. But Misty on the other hand-
"Watcha got there?"
Ash nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt his friend's breath ride against his neck, hands quickly diving to cover the humiliating title.
"Nothing," the trainer speedily responded, eyes refusing to look to hers.
Misty lowered her eyebrows. "Ah, c'mon Ash. Let me see-"
"No way!"
The hasty removal of Misty's hand away from his caught her by surprise. Nevertheless, she kept her cool and allowed her stern expression to get to the bottom of his secretive state. "Why?" the redhead boldly questioned. "You think I'm gonna laugh?"
"Yes!" Ash not so shamefully responded.
At first, a sympathetic quivering was felt in Misty's heart as she stared back at the flushed boy. Then, whatever understanding she felt was overshadowed my logic. The fact that she would never make fun of him in the context of his innocent childhood. A part of her felt in insulted that Ash would even think so.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Misty argued back, urging how ridiculous the whole presumption sounded. "I swear, I'm not gonna laugh-"
"Ash!"
The sweet ringing voice of Delia once again broke Ash and Misty's fixed glares. They both looked up to the woman, and Ash in agitation answered.
"What Mom?" he groaned faintly.
"Look what I found, honey!" his mother exclaimed. In Delia's grasp lay a canary yellow photo album with a precious print of squirtle and pysduck splashing in mud puddles across the cover. Ash cringed.
"All your baby photos!" Delia continued, beginning to flip through the book. Her smile grew immensely after glancing at the first page, and soon a soft motherly squeal followed. "Oh, this brings back so many memories."
Memories that Ash would prefer not to bring up in front of his friends. It would have been perfectly fine for her to flip through that book if it was just she and him, where he could feel secure without any judging eyes. But that wasn't the case in his narrowed view. So being the insecure adolescent he currently was, Ash's complexion turned a deeper shade of pink and his voice wavered slightly in irritation and anxiety. "Mom, can you please look at those later?"
But Delia was too caught up in the moment to hear her son's pathetic plea. "Oh, I remember this one!" she instead gushed, leading to her taking a seat on a sturdy heavy box. "This was your first big outing."
"Your first big outing?" Brock chimed in, curious himself.
"We went to a picnic my parents were hosting," Delia explained, looking to the kids for a moment. "Oh you were just so tiny and precious. Well, you still are!" she couldn't help but giggle, adoring the sweet expression her son still bared.
Another rush of anxiety swept up Ash's back. "Mom," he urged desperately again. "Can I please have those?"
"Sure, sweetie."
Luck was finally coming Ash's way thanks to his mother's absentminded deliver, till Misty swiftly barged in his way and snatched the book.
"Hey!" he screeched, charging after her.
She simply flipped the book open with hand, and pushed him away with the other. His lame attempts at getting her to maneuver his way weren't working, and when Misty released a sweet smile and a coo Ash froze with twice as heated cheeks.
"Aw, Ash!" she too gushed, looking to him with sincere eyes. "You were a cute baby."
Ash's embarrassed glow transformed into a serious one. "Was not," he countered.
"Yes you were! Just look at you. You and your mom look so adorable together."
The pointing of Misty's finger led to the image that was to most, undeniably precious and pure. Wrapped in a soft green blanket, and a charming magby decorated onesie secured on his petite body, a some odd month old Ash laid cradle in his mother's arms on a picnic bench. Delia in her long auburn braids, glowed with such youth and happiness, while Ash, gleamed at his mom with big chocolate innocent eyes, much like hers. It was a perfect capture of a new mother and her overall joy in accepting her new role.
Even Ash had to admit, the photo was a nice and heartwarming picture... but it wasn't an appropriate picture to show off to his friends.
Ash's frown stiffened. "We do not."
Coming over with just as much curiosity as Misty had, Brock joined the huddling of the must see photos, and grinned a silly smile for another reason. "Wow, Mrs. Ketchum you were really pretty- not that you're not pretty now!" the breeder hurriedly corrected, feeling a tad foolish for his outburst.
"Don't worry Brock," Delia assured, too preoccupied going through more boxes to think anything of it. "I understand what you meant."
The comment itself however, was not taken so lightly by the madly blushing boy saddled between his two nosy friends. First, Misty deemed his baby pictures as 'adorable' and now Brock was making a subtle pass at his mother's younger self? This was definitely not what Ash wished to experience up in the attic. It may not have consisted of harsh jeers yet, but the implications of him being cute like a newborn poliwag or the reminder his mother was severely graced with natural beauty was another awkward altogether.
Closing the photo album shut, Ash's childhood was hidden away from the prying eyes of Brock and Misty. "Let's just get back to work," he ordered with both firmness and embarrassment in his voice.
Narrowed red brows gleamed at the conscious boy as he went back to sorting, though the confused shrug she received from Brock made Misty resist in pestering Ash anymore. He was being childish, and while it was growing annoying there was not much she or Brock could do to ease his overly sensitive worries. If anything, something just as humiliating or possibly more would be uncovered in that dusty space.
And something did with revenge.
Continuing on with the sorting process, Ash was knee deep in his mother's many assortment of linens and tablecloths. He couldn't believe how many of these she collected over the years. Several he supposed by the looks of their condition and style, were most likely handed down from his grandma, and then from her mother. Thankful to the boy's dismiss, Delia willingly took the trouble of sorting the cloths herself and in the end gave away more rather than kept. If only the mother was more amenable at the idea of ridding of her son's belongings...
Speaking of which, that box Ash originally found, the one he was so determined for Misty not to peak at, was still sitting over there untouched. And he had no clue how to get it past his mom with her constant patrolling... Then, a distraction came.
"Uh, Mrs. Ketchum?" Brock paused for a moment once he gained the woman's attention. Then, his eyes wandered back to the discovered piece of furniture he found hidden away by several stacks of boxes. He wasn't sure how to phrase his questions. "What would you like to do with this um... crib?"
Staring at the uncovered crib, Delia blinked back in surprise. But soon, a tiny smile emerged. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot all about it!" she exclaimed lightheartedly, waltzing over.
Ash on the other hand remained where he was. "Me either," the boy mumbled with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Great. Another thing his mom was going to gush over.
To Ash's amazement again however, Delia was not in the midst of 'gushing' over the past of his infantile state. She was instead, quiet and her once beaming expression of content transformed into something dreary. As she thought about it, a look of faint sadness crossed Delia's face. She was, internally afflicted on what to do with the crib. While the logical decision was egging her to finally be rid of it, a part of her was having a difficult time letting go. At first, Delia wished the forgotten piece of furniture would have stayed forgotten and nothing more. But now... A flash of once blissful hopes of the past clouded her foggy mind, and then the painful reminders followed after without any mercy. Never was she able to have that second baby she always wanted.
It hurt too much to think more of it, and with a sigh Delia bravely came to a conclusion. "Hmmm... Well, I suppose there's no sense in keeping it," she declared, though it was obvious there was a twinge of despondency in her voice. "And I'm sure there's a mother out there in need of a crib. It's actually still in good shape," she noted, examining the eggshell painted structure. Even if it sounded somewhat chipper, the positive outlook of Delia's decision didn't seem to waver the dejection seeping from her vocal cords.
Misty was the first to catch onto this, and found herself slipping into a frown as she observed Delia. "So I'm guessing this was your crib?" the girl more so stated than inquired.
Ash caught Misty's glance and put his guard up again nervously. "Yeah, what of it?"
"Nothing," she answered sincerely, ignoring his defensive state. "I think it was only natural of your mom to keep it for so long."
"Why?" he blinked, truly confused.
"Because she probably thought-" Stopping midway through her sentence, Misty pondered what she was about to say. If she said it, the girl deduced it would only make things three times as uncomfortable as it already was for Ash. That and if he wasn't catching on then, what was the use in explaining his mother's inner woe? Sighing, Misty allowed it to pass. "Oh, never mind," she huffed.
As their conversation ended the trainers missed the halfway mark of another, finding Brock and Delia coming to a conclusion on some details. Trying to bear a faint smile, Delia said, "We'll get the crib out last, Brock. With that small of space it makes me wonder how we got it in the attic in the first place though," she soon pondered, a peculiar looking crossing her face.
Quickly, Brock answered the mother's wondering with logical deduction. "It seems the legs were taken off so that might have helped."
Of course. Being reminded of such, forced Delia's mind to swirl back in time to that cloudy day. The day when Ash was no longer in need of his crib, and who was there to help her with the new moving, and arrangement. And that crib, even if it was completely useless now- it still brought back so many warm memories of Ash's babyhood. Like a single sip of sweet hot cocoa on a chilly snowy winter's day. And Delia could recall it all like it was just yesterday. The mother couldn't count how many nights she had gotten up and checked on her once wailing baby in his beloved crib, and how many times she found that her once dedicated husband had beaten her to the chase. Rocking Ash back to sleep in his arms, gently patting their baby's back with a soft soothing tune that only a loving father could voice... Then, the gentle fluttering of Ash's eyes becoming shut and his once chubby fingers loosely clinging to his father's t-shirt. The babe was sound asleep.
In the arms of him.
A surge of euphoria burst through Delia's heart at the thought, and then it all melted away as the depressing reality swallowed it up in one single gulp. Still standing strong however, she nodded back to Brock in agreement and found her fingers delicately tracing the siding of the crib.
Then, she sighed.
Wandering off to another unattended pile of boxed belongings, Brock watched Mrs. Ketchum with peculiarity. He had a hunch, but kept his thoughts to himself as he went back to work. Thankful to Ash, his mom hadn't made the crib escapade a larger than life incident. Instead, he too was beginning to feel something change in Delia's original cheery disposition. Something about the crib... He couldn't pinpoint his mother's silence, other than she was having a hard time letting it go simply because it was a memory of a time when things were simpler and easier to enjoy. Nonetheless, the boy didn't think much of it and went back to work.
And he still couldn't figure out what to do with that troubling box.
As if distractions were falling from the sky in order for Ash to come to a solution, another big discovery was made.
Tucked behind worn outdated stripped lawn chairs, was a bright yellow tricycle whose little wheels were coated in cobwebs. Besides dust coating the outside, it bore a few minor scratches of chipping paint. But overall, the little trike was in fairly decent shape. Delia took note of its condition as she revealed it to the world around her, a large smile growing from her lips. Finally, a distraction to get her mind off of those painful memories and hopes. After all, she had struggled to sort through things for the last twenty minutes or so, and now here was something to lessen the pain.
Immediately, she flashed her gaze at her son who was too preoccupied fumbling through another box. From there, she lifted the trike up and placed it out in the open, calling for his attention. "Honey, look!" Delia exclaimed. "It's your trike!"
Trike? A long internal 'no' screeched inside Ash's mind as he watched his mother so giddily show it off. Then, the boy's hair stood up on the back of his neck with a mixture of different feelings swirling in his gut. He remembered the trike all right, all the good times he had riding on that dinky contraption in the front yard, ringing the silver bell, going every which way. It was a warm fuzzy feeling. When he was younger, it probably was the favorite birthday gift he had ever received from his parents. Yes, the trike was definitely a favorite of his at one point and now with its big comeback- he didn't want to dismiss it. But at the same time he did.
"You kept that?" asked Misty, surprised at this rate for it seemed her friend wanted to be ridden of everything that was connected to his young childhood.
Ash fumbled for a moment. Misty's tone didn't speak of facetiousness. More so, curiosity that he had no idea how to respond to. Why was everything so confusing and complicated while performing this simple task? Maybe it was because Ash was making it twice as difficult as he needed to be. His foreboding fears and anxiety were still eating at him.
"Uh, well um-"
"It still looks pretty good all things considering," Delia went on noting to the rest. She was still busy cleaning off all the dust-bunnies who decided to take residence on it.
Brock finished handing off another box to Mr. Mime, and then peered over his shoulder. "All things considering what?" he asked, wanting to jump in on the conversation. He just took notice of the uncovered yellow trike.
Delia lifted her gaze at Brock. "Ash used to ride this trike everywhere whenever he could," she answered warmly, the sweet thought of her little boy with very impish features and baggy clothes while wearing an oversize helmet engulfing her mind. The thought of her son's once toddler self lightening the bleakness she was experiencing earlier. At least she had him. "He was however, not too attached to it after wanting a bike soon after," she also took note of with a playful mischievous eye. "All the other big kids in the neighborhood were getting bikes."
Big kids? Ash felt another sharp shiver run down his spine at his mother's innocent word choice, though it wasn't so innocent as it left another embarrassing mark on him. Sure he was only four at the time, but did she have to put it like that? With his friends there to hear every single word?
Misty grew a smile with a similar glimmer, catching on. "That doesn't surprise me. My guess is the wanting of a bike had something to do with Gary?" she added with a sly eye, gleaming to Ash with a raised brow.
The mention of his dear lovable rival left Ash in a sour state, his dark brows narrowing with a fold of his arms. "Maybe..." he grumbled.
Maybe actually meaning: yes. Gary, in the process of loosing his front teeth, practicing penmanship and reading rolled up one day on his all mighty bike, painted blue with flashy lightning bolts decorated on the side. And he didn't just have a silver bell. For one thing, it was gold and it also came with a sleek basket. Not a "girly one with flowers" as he noted. As long ago and fuzzy as that memory was, Ash hadn't completely forgotten the experience. One of the first markings of their blooming rivalry.
You have a trike? Ash recalled Gary snubbing, pulling up all cool on his bike next to Ash's fence line. He had a band-aid on his elbow, showcasing his first injury from riding. I've got a bike with training wheels! And all Ash had was apparently a downgraded trike. Listening to how it sounded now, Gary's words seemed rather ridiculous. But at the time, it hurt. Hurt so much he begged endlessly for a bike, which he didn't even get till a year later for his next birthday. When Gary was off of his training wheels. Oh, the irony.
And it would be twice as ironic if Gary showed his face at the sale and dared to rudely suggest that Ash didn't bother selling any of his precious childhood keepsakes... That he and his 'mommy' couldn't let go of them.
Either dismissing or simply unaware of the mention of the overly confident Gary, Delia went on reminiscing. "I still can't forget the look on your face when you found out this was your big birthday surprise. You were so happy you couldn't wait to go out to the front yard! Oh, there were so many times when your father-"
It was not that Delia was interrupted. Rather, she stopped speaking herself. She had mentioned him. As she was still in the process of forgiving him, and talking about him was still a touch awkward. Especially after digging through so many stored items, items that he owned or that he picked out for her... Then of course there was the letter-
Brock and Misty froze with blank stares, unable to move or know what to say. They weren't informed of Mr. Ketchum's entire whereabouts or why exactly he wasn't in the picture, but to their surprise Ash wasn't afraid to pursue his mother's statement.
"When Dad what, Mom?" Ash asked with slight meekness, sensing the tension wafting through the air.
Slowly, Delia met her son's gaze. She sighed, eyes drawing back to the trike. "When he'd pump the tires over and over again... for you- because you rode it so much," she added with a bittersweet smile, the image of her husband doing such a task playing faintly in her head. It didn't last long. "But enough of that," Delia hastily dismissed, trying to put on a brave face. Now she was feeling a tad embarrassed.
From there, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, adjusting her voice with what seemed like a forced smile.
Brock and Misty exchanged a look. Were they missing something?
"So sweetie, do you want to keep the trike?" Delia eventually questioned.
Ash twisted his mouth at his mother's question. It was a hard decision to make. Half of him wanted to sell the trike, and the other part didn't. He honestly did hold many fond memories of that dinky trike. Simply riding on it around the yard and knowing it was from both of his parents. One of the very few things he had from his dad... Briefly, Ash glanced to Misty and Brock who seemed to be waiting for answer as much as his mom was. If he didn't sell it, then what would that make him look like? A kid who couldn't let go of things he clearly couldn't use nor need anymore? That he couldn't help but hold onto everything from the past? That these feelings would be exhibited in the presence of his two older companions?
Sighing, Ash came to a conclusion. "I- I think I'll put it in the sale."
Instantly, Delia's brows lowered. "Are you sure?" she pressed.
"Yeah," he at last confirmed. "Yeah, Mom. I'm sure."
"Well, all right," she breathed, almost sounding defeatist. Was Ash really going to sell the trike? Delia would have sworn he'd keep it. After all, even when he was imploring for a bike he made it clear he didn't want his trike to be taken away. Especially since her absent husband took the time to pick it for their son, to pump those tires repeatedly... So Delia pressed again. "But honey, this is your trike," she reminded, the motherly sweetness still in her voice.
"I know," Ash replied without hesitation. "I just don't need it."
That was true. There was no use for it. He was clearly too big for it, and it would be only natural and healthy for him to stick to the bike he already had stashed away in the backyard. Still, the trike was special. At least it was to her...
"You're right. I'm sorry, Ash. I guess it's just me!" Delia admitted willingly, blushing a little as her hand was pressed against her cheek. "I mean, after all, this is a piece of you. And who could love treasures and memories like these more than your own mother?"
Ash rolled his eyes. "A mother who wishes she could have children."
Without hesitation a shrill appalled gasp leaped from Delia's throat. What was the matter with him? "Ashton! Shame on you!" she scolded openly. "You should never wish that onto anyone! Having a child is one of the most beautiful things in the world," she preached, speaking on experience alone. "You'll understand one day when you have your own little ones."
Ash huffed at this, trying to hide the humiliation of his word choice and his mother's typical response.
So instead, he countered her argument. "I can't exactly get pregnant Mom."
Delia faltered and bit her lip. "Well maybe not-"
"Maybe?" he interrupted, fear and confusion rising through his young mind.
At this point, Misty couldn't help but slap her forehead. How much more uncomfortable could this get? The last thing she wanted to hear was a sex ed lesson performed by Delia and a soon to be grossed out Ash who probably believed girls had cooties. Well, maybe not probably. Misty was sure he thought that.
"Okay, you can't have babies that way," Delia clarified quickly with a sigh, easing everyone's anxiety. "But when you are married to a lovely woman and you have beautiful little ones you'll understand why being a parent is so precious. And I'll spoil them as rotten as I have you!"
With a lack of a warning, Ash was unexpectedly swept into a gentle embrace of by his mother. This took the cake as the most degrading part of their whole attic escapade. He didn't mind a side-hug, but a full on one? In front of his friends? Rotten as I have you... Ash sighed as he listened to his mom's heartbeat. Delia meant well. There was no denying that. But with a reddening face, Ash wasn't sure he could handle another ruffling of his hair or a rehash of his 'too cute' childhood moments. Or the grand delusions of him being married with children. After all, girls had cooties.
Oi, he needed a break.
A few minutes went by, turning into a half an hour. The attic was mostly if not, almost entirely sorted.
In the process, they all discovered nothing more than typical items of fake flowers, cooking books, vintage holiday cards, vases, and more holiday decorations. It was a laborious task, but between the kids diligent cleaning, Pikachu and Togpei's exposing of more belongings, and Delia's quick decision making the four were truly making headway in the keeping and giving process. Eventually however, a childhood relic, actually quite a few, were unearthed by the least person to make a spectacle: Brock. He, for a moment, paused as he stared at the boxes reading the various titles. There was one specifically for Ash's toys and for his baby clothes. Smiling a little to himself, Brock soon traveled his gaze to his hurriedly working friend who was continuously flooding Mr. Mime's arms with more of his mother's useless knickknacks.
After a few seconds, Brock was finally able to capture Ash's attention. "Uh Ash?" he called, motioning his way. "I think I might have found some of your stuff. Wanna take a look at it?"
He froze, an impending fear riding in his gut. But he didn't let it show. "Um- yeah, Brock."
He approached his friend's side and with the lifting of the filled boxes into Brock's arms, Ash read the couple of titles and bit hard on his lip. As if guilty for his future actions, the trainer glanced over his shoulder long enough to find Misty and Delia occupied, giving him the perfect opportunity to at least avoid another uncomfortable incident.
"Actually," Ash started slowly, "just go ahead and hand that stuff to Mr. Mime. I don't want any of it."
Brock raised a brow, looked down at the boxes then back at his friend. "You sure?" He never kept all his childhood treasures, but Brock wasn't ashamed to admit he kept a few that mattered greatly to him. Discarding things with heavy significance was something the breeder knew he would regret if he didn't.
But Ash was certain. "Yeah. There's no need for it-"
"Ash, you should at least go through those boxes before selling anything inside. I'm sure they're full of treasures you might want to look at!"
A cringe shot through the boy's body as Ash's head spun to Delia's maternal beaming gaze. Why did she have to keep interfering? At this rate, Ash wasn't going to get anything past her, and there was no way he could truly explain what he was feeling to his mom. He couldn't do that with the pictures, the trike, and now this... Ash simply assumed that she wouldn't understand.
"But Mom, I really don't need this stuff," he insisted as evenly as he could. "It's just junk."
"What is it?" Delia inquired anyway.
This time, Ash couldn't resist an irritated huff. "Stuff I don't need," he sharply countered again.
In return, Delia's brows narrowed and a subtle frown claimed her lips. "Ash, don't give me that attitude," the mother warned just as sternly, her son's defensive rude tone beginning to wear on her usual patience. "Why won't you just look through them?"
"'Cause it's stuff I don't want Mom!" Ash persisted twice as vexed, his tone growing more impish than before.
Then finally, a different voice interjected. However, it sounded equally as piqued. "Oh Ash! Quit griping and just listen to your mom already," Misty hissed, thoroughly annoyed by her friend's antics. It was evident to everyone in the room except Ash, that if he didn't end his childish foolery no one would be wanting to hear out whatever problem he was facing. That, and the redhead was exasperated with another verbal action of Ash's. "And can you use a better non-specific noun to describe your belongings as more than just stuff?" she couldn't help but remark, not to get a laugh out of his flustered state but because it truly had been aggravating to listen to.
A surge of anger burst through Ash. He never enjoyed being challenged, especially when he felt cornered by everyone else with no idea on how to properly respond. And being picked on by his lack of an expansive vocabulary did him in. So, in one frustrated holler, he snarled at Misty with a lashing of harsh words. "Bite me!"
Aghast by her son's rash and uncalled for response to his friend, Delia's temper too flared. "Now that is enough young man!" she ordered firmly, close to striking faint fear in Brock and Misty. Most of the time, Delia was rather reserved, quiet, and usually cheerful in most instances. But when she was mad, they could tell, and neither kid enjoyed seeing this peeved side of the usually bubbly Delia.
"Brock, please hand me those boxes," the mother ordered, tired of her son's impish behavior. Throughout their day of sorting, she had eventually noticed Ash's less than thrilled attitude, and at last, was beginning to wear on the patient woman.
"No!" her son wailed, dread engulfing his mind as the box was put in Delia's grasp. "You'll just keep them and we already have enough junk up here that you're insisting on holding onto!"
Junk? A pang hit Delia's chest as she witness Ash's face grow madder and his words sharper with an ever irritated tone. Then, she fell silent.
Slowly, Delia opened the forbidden box and once looking inside her heart ached with another pain only a mother could feel. Clothes, toys, blankets... all things from her son's babyhood. Things that were the last bit of happiness from the past she could hold onto. The things that weren't tainted.
Eventually with shaky eyes, she pulled out the charmander she made for him when he was a baby, limp and worn in her hand. Delia's heart finally sank. All the materials she had gathered, the time she spent stuffing the plush toy, sewing the buttons on and all the seams so that it wouldn't tear or to prevent him from eating any of the small pieces- this was once important to Ash and now he just wanted to throw it all away? Then, there was his baby blanket she made for Ash too; Delia remembered how excited she was when she found the exact teddiursa print she had been searching for, and that too took time. Time in which Ash used to appreciate. The boy knew without a doubt what items were especially significant, he himself made that evident hauling his favorites around once upon a time.
So why?
Hurt chestnut eyes captured chocolate ones. "Your baby clothes and toys are not junk," argued Delia, her motherly-self slightly hurt that her son would even categorize his belongings as such. "They're precious and important to me."
"Well they're not important to me," Ash swiftly rebutted, clearly not considering his words. How could she not see what he was doing? Innocently or not, he didn't appreciate an ounce of it and it was the final blow to unleash horrid truth. Without much restraint. "You've already embarrassed me enough in front of my friends with the baby pictures, the trike, the crib, and just the fact that you insist on keeping everything from the past! No wonder Gary calls me a baby!" the boy didn't resist announcing, fed up with it all. "You hold onto all my stuff that I don't want or need and insist on claiming it's 'special'! I'm not your baby anymore, Mom! Can't you see that?"
Instantly, everything fell silent.
Pikachu, who grew worried from his trainer's booming voice stood still and kept a timid Togepi behind him. Cocking his head to the side with long ears back, Pikachu cooed to his master but earned nothing in return. So he looked to the other humans surrounding him. No one moved a muscle. Awkward couldn't begin to describe the tension filling the air. This was the first big blow up that Brock and Misty, even Pikachu had witnessed between Ash and his mom. Hopefully, it was the last one too. Nonetheless, nothing filtering through anyone's mind seemed like an appropriate thing of saying out loud. Nothing else than the desire to leave the attic or simply dismiss the altercation as it never happened.
So someone decided to take action.
"I think we should go see if Mr. Mime needs any help," Brock quietly suggested, serious eyes gleaming to Misty as he gestured to the trapdoor.
Hers on the other hand shook with anxiety, first looking to a stoic Delia then to a flustered Ash. At that moment, Misty wanted to do so many things at once. React several different ways. She was very much tempted to give Ash a piece of her mind in any form she had to, somehow comfort Delia, and follow Brock's logical advise.
So she did that. Begrudgingly.
"Okay."
With a nod, Misty followed behind, shuffling Pikachu and Togepi right along with her. Though before officially exiting the attic, Misty gave one last glance to Ash. It was very much a look of disapproval. It was a passionate enough expression to make Ash think about Misty's hardened sea-green eyes. The full realization came instantly with a sheepish look in return. What had he done? Frozen in time, Ash felt as if he and Delia were back where they started. Back before he left for his Pokémon journey, when he was struggling through his last year of school. When Gary was constantly picking on him, when life seemed harsher than it needed to be, when they weren't discussing their feelings truthfully with respect... Ash instantly felt foolish and full of regret.
With a dry throat, Ash swallowed. "Mom?" the boy croaked pitifully, though he hardly earned a glance. "I swear I didn't mean to make you feel bad. But you've gotta understand where I'm coming from. Please."
It was at least, a much more appropriate tone to use when addressing his mother. Still, Delia felt disheartened by the whole ordeal. Her little boy wasn't supposed to talk to her this way. Not like this. She raised him better than that. Ash becoming snappy was one thing, but this? Exploding out of the blue with no given sign that she was causing his discomfort? Another mixture of disapproval and confusion soared through Delia. Then, came the intolerance for her son's behavior.
"I didn't think that cleaning the attic would somehow set you off like this," Delia explained openly, finally capturing her son's eyes.
Guilty, Ash's eyes lingered to the wood-paneled floor. "And you shouldn't have had to anticipate it." From there, the boy sighed, eyes trailing away to the box his mother so earnestly treasured and had every right too. "I love you Mom," he felt the need to state, "but when you baby me in front of friends... I'm afraid I'm going to lose them or that they'll laugh at me or something. Especially if I want to keep some of my stuff because I know- I know it's not junk."
It was a bitter confession, one in which he looked three times as shameful to admit. Now that he said it out loud, it felt so stupid to even dream up. None of his belongings were junk. So why did it have to be taken this far for him to realize that?
Soft chestnut eyes shook as Delia gazed at her lowly son. Why would he believe such a strong accusation against his friends? "That's not true, Ash. Brock and Misty aren't going anywhere-"
"And I thought Tate and Peter weren't either," Ash countered, more bitterness seeping in his voice. "But they did. They sided with Gary... I just- it's so hard for me to explain," he again huffed, the frustration of it all building.
Ash's childhood friends lost to the bullying of Gary... Delia immediately caught on to this expression. She had seen it before. This situation wasn't under the exact same conditions as the Gary incident, but it bore similar worries inside Ash. And Delia wasn't going to stand by and let it happen again.
Gently, she smiled a grin of reassurance. "I think I understand. Come," the mother soon gestured to one of the more sturdy boxes. "Sit with me."
With a seating over herself a patting of her hand against the cardboard, Ash willingly journeyed over and plopped down next to his mom. Her smile weakened for a moment, eyes bearing something of melancholy. There were simply too many factors.
"Listen honey, I- I wasn't trying to embarrass you," Delia started strongly, trying to repress any shed of a insist tear. "Going through all the things we found- they brought back a lot of good memories. Memories I cherish because they were things I did with you or reminded me of you. Ash, as a parent I can't help but adore those things and hold onto most of it!" she couldn't resist chuckling a little, seeing that her habit of collecting all his art projects and precious toys was very much engulfed in the attic. "If I didn't, there would be something wrong with me. And I can see why it'd bother you, wanting to be a- young man in front of your friends."
It was still somewhat hard to admit that. Swallowing, Delia continued. "But Ash, if something is making you uncomfortable you tell me no matter what. None of this yelling and bickering business. It's not respectful to anyone or becoming."
Ash sensed the sternness in his mom's voice, and obeyed with a quick nodding of the head. He wasn't about to make any excuses. Not when he saw the look in Delia's eyes, not when Misty fixed him with a severely deplored expression, or when the harsh words replayed through his swirling mind... Just the look he captured, he caused was enough to make Ash's stomach churn. She appeared, so sad as she held that plush charmander that was specifically made for him. The one she took so much time to create as Ash was busy 'baking' and nestled in the security of his mother's womb.
Delia meant no harm, and Ash didn't want to be another person so close to her to create such turmoil. Even if it was unintentional.
"I know, and I'm sorry," Ash replied, honestly ashamed. "I really am. I guess... I just didn't want to let you down. I promised you I'd help clean out the attic, but then... I got so worried about the attic last night, Mom," he finally admitted, his words speeding as he tried so hard to explain. So his explanation would make halfway sense. "What Misty and Brock would think about my baby stuff and what you'd say and I just- I wasn't thinking." Ash let out another sigh, and his eyes fell to his shoes. "I know you put up with a lot and... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. You have a right to like and keep my baby stuff."
His voice had grown much softer, chocolate eyes shaking as he struggled to come to terms with his uncalled for behavior. But just the sincerity in his voice made Delia's quaking heart feel stable again, and for her to return her apologetic boy with a smile.
"And I accept your apology in a heartbeat," the mother breathed, warmness returning to her voice. Then, it shifted, something still motherly yet baring a hint of firmness. As if a call to keep an open mind and listening ears. "But Ash," Delia started again, eyes staring right into his, "you need to understand something from my perspective too. You, young man, whether you like it or not, are always going to be my baby. You're my child. Probably the only one I'm ever going to have and I just- I love you so much, Ash. You mean the world to me," she stated sweetly, caressing his face. "You're all I've got."
Those words forced a faint smile upon Ash's face, his mother's fingers delicately pushing back his wild untamed locks. "I know. And you're all I've got too Mom. But-" His gaze shifted to the side. "I just hate getting embarrassed... It makes me feel- smaller than everyone else."
Delia drew her hand back. "I know. I didn't like it much when I was your age either. But I'll tell ya what," she began, an upbeat tone calling for Ash's attention. "I honestly don't believe neither Misty or Brock would stop being your friends just because you've got a mom who can't help but adore you. Really, sweetie. Your actions are going to make them realize whether they want to be your friends or not. Not mine. So please, just be yourself and not worry. And I think that's what they'd want too."
Ash gave another nod of understanding, processing her words as he tried to accept them. Still, it was a tad hard to believe.
"You really think so?" he asked meekly, a pinch of fear clinging on.
Delia's smile widened with confidence. "I know so."
This time, it seemed her words did the magic trick. With the relaxing of his shoulders, Ash seemed to trust his mother's definite view and found himself slowly peering at the opening of the attic. Brock and Misty were below. If what Delia said was true, if they truly were a pair of outstanding and forgiving friends... then they most definitely deserved a clarification. And Ash wasn't about to lose the wonderful pair of companions he had luckily found out of cowardliness.
Swiveling his head, Ash looked back to Delia. "So I should probably apologize to them?" he stated more so than suggested, trying to bare some maturity.
"That would be a good idea," his mom agreed. "And be honest with them, Ash. Tell them what's bothering you." With one last nod of comprehending, Delia embraced Ash in a warm hug. Reassurance seeped through her touch as she rubbed his back. It was unavoidable that they wouldn't have a few bumps along the way, and with this last year talking their problems out had become much easier to do. And Delia was beyond thankful that even with Ash away most of the time, they still could have heartfelt conversations.
That they could go to each other and forgive all altercations.
"I love you, sweetie," Delia breathed in his ear, allowing herself to slip one single little bittersweet tear. There was so much emotion stored in this attic, and knowing she'd still have her sweet little boy made letting things go easier.
Ash buried his nose into her shoulder, chocolate eyes gleaming forward. "Love you too, Ma."
They both were quiet after the tender words were said, Ash thinking one thing, Delia another. But what was going through Ash's mind was an act that could fully rectify the miscommunication.
"Hey, Mom?" he called, drawing away from her grasp.
"Hmm?" she answered, discreetly, wiping away the tear.
Ash's eyes trailed over to the box that had been troubling him during their entire cleaning process. Those home videos...
He finally knew what to do with them, and he smiled. "I think I found a box you might want to look at."
TO BE CONTINUED...
