Thank you all for the support, you're amazing! I apologize in advance for the excessive amount of dialogue in this chapter, I hope it won't be much of a bother.
I don't own Pokémon.
Chapter 7 - Friendships and Hardships
escaping my thoughts
Can I… ask you something?
silence is my jam but i like rock too
Sure, Sunshine. Ask away.
escaping my thoughts
What do you think makes people who they are?
silence is my jam but i like rock too
I'm… not sure how to answer that. Could you elaborate?
escaping my thoughts
What I mean is… What could be the reasons behind a person acting a certain way? And are there necessarily reasons for one's behavior or are they just… the way they are?
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Huh. You ask quite the questions, Sunshine.
Well, I guess that the things a person has gone through in his life could be the main factor that has formed them as characters and could very well be the reasons why they behave one way or the other. I believe some traits, you are simply born with, but they are nothing more than mere predispositions at the time of birth.
It is what you grow up to be that determines who you are and in most cases, the environment in which you are brought up plays a key role in who you become as a person. If one has, let's say, experienced some sort of trauma, or was raised in a dysfunctional family, it is more than likely that this will take its toll on him and shape him into the person he becomes as an adult.
escaping my thoughts
What you're saying actually makes sense. Thank you. I needed an impartial party's opinion.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
You're welcome. May I ask why you're torturing yourself with such questions? Are you going through some sort of existential reckoning? Or are you trying to figure someone out?
escaping my thoughts
Look, I appreciate your help on this, but your prying is a little too much. Mind if I keep my business to myself?
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Wow, touchy. And here I thought we were actually starting to form a friendship.
escaping my thoughts
I can assure you we are forming nothing of the sort.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Fine, be a prick. But let me ask you this. Why would you turn to me with your weird wonderings? Is it perhaps because you don't have anyone to confide in in your real life?
escaping my thoughts
Mind your own business. If I dare remind you, you were the first one to bother me with your bizarre questions.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Oh, I am well aware. And I am open about my reasons for messaging you – it is simply because I don't have anyone else to talk to. Believe it or not, this pathetic form of communication is pretty much the only thing of the sort I have going on.
And deny it as much as you want, but it's clear as day that it's the same for you. Otherwise you wouldn't ask for advice from an Internet 'friend'. Plus, you seem like you have lots on your mind, so why not share?
escaping my thoughts
Well, you have my sincerest condolences regarding your lonely situation, but don't think I'll bare my soul to you.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
I don't think or want anything of the sort. I am merely offering you a chance to talk to somebody.
escaping my thoughts
I don't even know you.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Yes, but consider this: you don't even know me. The same goes for me. I don't know your name or gender, or pretty much anything about you (aside from the fact that you're an asshole, this much is plain to see). I couldn't go around spilling your secrets if I wanted to. And I speak for myself when I say how much it sucks not having anyone to talk to.
escaping my thoughts
Let me get this straight. You want us to be each other's emotional trashcans?
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Nice phrasing. Not emotional trashcans, just… Listen, I have exhausted every single friendship I have come close to in my life and this… This Internet communication just seems a lot less… scary and demanding. There are no expectations or attachment, but I think we could use it to our benefit. What do you say?
escaping my thoughts
Alright.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Great! Now tell me, Sunshine, what's torturing you?
escaping my thoughts
Nothing's torturing me. I'm just… confused, that's all. There's this person I just can't figure out. And it's all the more frustrating, because I don't want to want to figure them out.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Do you have any idea as to why you want that?
escaping my thoughts
No. This person isn't anything to me.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Really? Seems like it's quite the opposite.
escaping my thoughts
I can say with absolute certainty that it's not. I think it's just this whole 'mystery' factor that's making me frustrated and thus making me want to figure the puzzle out. Just to get rid of the frustration.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Not that I'm calling your reasoning bullshit, but it is. It is bullshit. You're clearly in some sort of denial.
escaping my thoughts
Oh, really? Pray tell me how you came to that conclusion.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
Look, I'm not acquainted with the exact situation you're finding yourself so perplexed in, but I think that you wanting to get to know this person means that he/she holds a certain amount of significance to you.
escaping my thoughts
I never said I wanted to get to know this person. I said I wanted to figure them out.
silence is my jam but I like rock too
If really you want to believe there's a difference.
"Yes, Reggie?" Paul snapped into the phone.
"As pleasant to hear you as ever, dear brother."
Paul gritted his teeth. The nerve of his brother knew no limits. "Say what you need to say. I'm in a hurry."
"You haven't left for school yet, have you?"
"I would have, if it weren't for you," he growled as he threw his bag on the passenger seat of his worn-out Jeep. "Spit it out already. I'm late."
"Could you just go check on mom? I called her and she didn't answer."
"She was probably just in the bathroom, moron." Paul rolled his eyes, but headed back towards the house nevertheless. He didn't take any chances when it came to his mother and if Reggie had been as worried as to call him, then he had to check.
"But you'll go check on her?"
"That's what I'm doing, idiot," he replied as he tried to balance the phone between his ear and shoulder in order to get his key from his pocket.
"Call me afterwards, alright?"
"Hn," Paul grunted affirmatively and hung up. He checked his watch and sighed. He was running late anyway. A few more minutes wouldn't make any difference.
He quickly went up the stairs and knocked on the door to his mother's bedroom.
No one answered, but that wasn't a cause for worry. His mother was, like him, an incredibly heavy sleeper. "Mom?" he inquired softly as he pressed the handle and let himself inside.
She was indeed sleeping, but Paul's astute eyes quickly caught on to the faint tear marks on her face. His heart tightened as he saw the incriminating sign of what no child wished to see in his mother. The grief, the sorrow, the sadness, which could have only been caused by one thing.
And there, trapped in her firm grasp, as she slept with agony painted across her face, lay the proof of his suspicion. It was an old photo, worn out and wrinkled from the many times it had been desperately latched onto in an attempt to bring the long lost reality in it back to existence, the lost reality that his mother still couldn't let go of.
"He's gone, mom," he whispered as he caressed her cheek and wiped off the small tear in the corner of her closed eye. There was no sadness. He had accepted the cold hard truth and it was high time his mother did so too. "He's gone," he repeated softly as he planted a kiss on her forehead.
Paul draped a blanket over his mother's small form and turned to leave, only stopping at the door to glare at the picture that was still in her tight embrace.
You're gone and you still can't let her be, can you?
He shook his head and closed the door quietly. It wouldn't do to wake up the old anger, residing deep inside of him still, bottling up and waiting to be unleashed. Now wasn't the time. Not when his mother was still in such a fragile state, happy and smiling one day, and knee deep in her depression the next.
He silenced the monster inside of him that burned him alive with its demand to be released. He hoped it would one day just disappear on its own, dissipate into nothingness and let him move on with his life, but he knew he was the one not letting it do so. Because despite how well things might be going, there imminently came a time when the rage inside of him got fueled by the reminder of what once was, of what would never again be.
It would seem that he still had some letting go to do.
"Yes, Reggie, she's alright."
"Ah, good. Now, since you're still there, can you check on the cake dough in the fridge? I need it to be big and puffy."
Thankfully, there was still Reggie to keep him sane with his nonsense.
"Paul, go see if it's big and puffy."
"Paul? You still there?"
Paul was late, but she didn't question him as she got in the passenger seat of his Jeep and closed the door.
"I thought you'd have left for school already."
"Yet you still came to pick me up." She smiled at him cheekily. "Nah, I don't care much for History anyway."
"Hn," he grunted as he pulled out of the driveway in front of her house. "Good."
"Everything alright?" She inquired as she studied his face.
"Yes."
"But you have a frown on."
"Is that so unusual?"
"Hm, good point." She fastened her seatbelt and flung her backpack to the back seat. "You know what we should do? Go to a flea market."
"Flea market?"
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"No, silly. We have school. But some day."
Dawn heard him sigh almost resignedly. "Dawn…"
"What? I've always wanted to visit one."
"No, it's not about the flea market. You just… sound so convinced that there's a future time when the two of us are going to hang out. You know. Frequently."
She scrunched her eyebrows. "Well…" Hesitation and uncertainty filled her as she swallowed nervously. "We are… friends, aren't we?"
Paul turned away from the road to look at her for what seemed like the longest second, before answering with a single word that wasn't even a word.
"Hn."
She couldn't help the grin that overcame her face.
That word that wasn't a word might just become her favorite thing to hear.
Baby steps, Dawn. Don't scare this one away.
She checked her watch just to have something to do. They were ten minutes late for the first class of the day, but she didn't care that much. Their History teacher didn't take monitoring attendance so seriously anyway.
Dawn leaned her arm on the window and flexed her fingers to feel the wind twirl between them. A car in the oncoming lane caught her eye and she smiled as she recognized the model as the one that served as James Bond's faithful companion. It was refreshing to see a retro beauty amongst the grayness of all the other cars that could be from different brands, but looked all the same to her anyway.
"Dawn."
"Yeah?" She asked distractedly, eyes still on the car which was now just up ahead.
"You're smiling like a lunatic at a car that's older than the Internet."
She rolled her eyes. "It's not old. It's classic."
"It's from 1964. I call that old."
"So? Doesn't mean it's any less good than the newest models. It's better, actually."
He raised his eyebrows and quirked a little smirk. "Really? How's that?"
She shrugged simply. "It has character."
He almost laughed. "Character?"
Dawn looked at him seriously. "Yes. Way more than your Jeep, actually. Or you, for that matter."
"It's a machine, Dawn."
"It's a beautiful machine."
"A beautiful machine that has character?"
"Exactly. Indefinitely more iconic than a van, let's say."
"This conversation is idiotic."
"Name a van that's more iconic than this DB5."
"What? Nothing to say, pretty boy?"
"The… The Mystery Machine."
Dawn tried to stifle her laugh while The Paul sat next to her, flushed with embarrassment.
"It's from a cartoon. To make your point about old stuff even more invalid, I'll just add that Scooby Doo first aired in the sixties."
"And that makes it classic, I suppose?"
"Shut up. Are you anti anything cool, or are you just anti me?"
"Depends. What other old and rusty junk do you like?"
"Screw you, you're junk. And if you must know, I like old black and white movies."
"Hn. You're weird."
"What? You have something against those too?"
"No, but they're not particularly interesting."
Dawn sighed and looked out the window resignedly. "You only get this chatty when you insult something I like, have you noticed?"
"Insult?"
"Calling something 'not interesting' is the worst possible label you can put on it."
"You're batshit crazy, you know that?"
"Say what you will. I will not argue with a colorless person like you."
"Hn," he grunted as he finally found an empty parking space in front of the school. "You know what else is colorless? Black and white movies."
She'd asked him if they were friends and he'd said yes.
There was a change then. It was subtle at first. They sat on one desk when they had classes together and had lunch together under a cherry tree on campus. On even dates he picked her up from her house with his Jeep and on odd dates they met halfway and walked the rest of the distance to the school together, just because. On occasion, he'd stand on lookout while she raided the storage room for more books to bring home, read and return, because going to the library would be too mainstream and she insisted that these books were older and smelled better, whatever that meant.
Against his will, he found himself learning new things about her, like the fact that she never put ice in her drink and frequently got dizzy because of low blood pressure, or that she took her coffee with a buttload of sugar, but was always sleepy during first period. Such minor details about her didn't satisfy his growing curiosity, but he knew better than to ask.
They talked, but not about anything heavy, and he begrudgingly realized that her snarky wit and sharp tongue made for conversations that weren't boring to him. She managed to keep his interest without getting him out of his comfort zone, which he appreciated, but that didn't change the fact that he still knew next to nothing about her.
She didn't pry in his business and he didn't ask about her family situation. It was a sort of an unspoken rule: they were, so to say, friends now, and crossing any personal boundaries was taboo. Neither of them stepped over the line.
Paul thought that's what made them sort of friends in the first place.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder what lurked behind the gates of this fortress he wasn't granted access to. However, he didn't dare to try to enter. Their current arrangement suited him fine. They were friends on a somewhat shallow level, never prying into one another's lives too deeply and never expecting anything more from one another than help with classwork and someone to walk to school with.
He knew to be on his guard though. He knew better than to become attached to a girl like Dawn, the kind of girl who threatened to become the center of his universe if he wasn't careful. He had to hold her at bay lest she became any more relevant to him than she already had.
He understood the theory of it and he had to make sure that the execution wouldn't elude him either.
Paul usually was far too consumed in his own shitstorm of a life to devote any time or thoughts to anyone else, but Dawn was an anomaly. An exception to his every rule and maybe that was what was so fascinating (and infuriating) about her.
He was thankful for the distraction, but her growing significance was bad news. She seemed to command his attention and respect without even knowing it, without even trying and he found it maddening.
He didn't show it, of course, because madness wasn't his forte. Rationality, on the other hand, was, but it always got thrown out the window when Dawn was added to the equation.
As a writer, however, he found her unintentional effect on him more than fascinating. He was careful not to get too carried away when regarding his inspiration, but couldn't help examining the sides of Dawn that had been revealed to him and wondering about the ones that hadn't. All out of professional curiosity, of course.
"You know, you really should be paying attention in class," he stroke up a conversation, just to prevent his thoughts from progressing any further.
Dawn flipped a page of her book imperturbably. "So should you, yet you're talking to me."
He rolled his eyes, but knew that History of Medieval Europe wasn't getting any more entrancing. He was distracted today and didn't know what to blame it on, so, demanding asshole that he was, he couldn't leave Dawn to indulge in her reading in peace. "What are you so faithfully reading anyway? You're always reading."
"Yeah, what's it to you?" She muttered distractedly, not moving her gaze from her book.
"Nothing," he squared his jaw and tried not to show how much the simple question affected him. "It's nothing to me."
Wrong distraction to go for.
For the love of God, Shinji, pay attention in class. And get your shit together.
"It's a stupid movie," Paul cut her appraisal of The Breakfast Club short as they walked across the streets in direction to her house and once again butted heads on the movie front.
"Oh, you've actually seen that one? Shocker," she replied bitingly.
"Yes, I have. And it's stupid."
"Oh, come on!" she argued. "It's a universally-accepted excellent movie. You just want to have something to not like so you seem like the smartest guy around."
"It's a shitty 80's movie that's supposed to be some allegory to teenage life."
"It is an allegory to teenage life!" Dawn snapped and started walking backwards to yell at him more conveniently. "It's about realizing that appearances can be deceiving."
"Appearances are not deceiving," Paul sneered. "I can take one look at anybody and know everything I need to know about them."
"Oh really?" Her eyes lighted up with a challenge as she glared at him. "Then what can you figure about me?"
"That you're a fucking mess," he replied flatly.
Dawn couldn't bring herself to be offended by that blunt statement and just laughed. They reached her house and she was just about to invite him in and make him watch and reevaluate the movie in question, when she saw that there was someone sitting on the doorstep.
"Marina?" she asked incredulously as she recognized her cousin. "What are you doing here?"
Marina took a long drag of the cigarette between her fingers and shrugged, as if she wasn't exactly sure herself. "Making bad decisions, I suppose."
Dawn gave Paul a look and he seemed to understand that it was something she had to deal with, because he just nodded and started walking away. She turned towards her cousin once again. "Mind if I join you?"
Marina shrugged again, but moved over so that Dawn could sit on the curbstone next to her. "I came over to your house after all."
"You know you're always invited, right?"
Marina nodded somewhat absentmindedly, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. "Yeah, I know."
"So what's going on?"
"Nothing much. Except for me being a stubborn asshole and an irresponsible mother, but that isn't so surprising." She stubbed her cigarette and reached for another. "You want one?"
"No, thanks. Since when do you smoke, anyway?"
"Oh, you know. Just occasionally."
"And what's the occasion today?"
"Why, the jolly grandparents came for an unexpected visit, of course. And being the forever hospitable host that I am, I just grabbed my coat and walked right past them. Got a pack of cigarettes on the way and offered one to my under-age cousin, like the responsible adult that I am."
Dawn cracked a smile. "Come on, it can't be that bad."
"You don't understand, Blue. I can't stand those people. I can't even stand being in the same room as them, with their judgmental sneers in my face." She shook her head. "It's better if I avoid confrontation. A few minutes in their company are enough to piss me off and I don't want to blow up in front of the kids."
She looked at Dawn and smiled humorlessly. "So I came here to be a moody prick in front of you."
Dawn frowned. "And you just left Mickey and Alex there?"
Marina waved her hand dismissively. "I bet they didn't even notice. After all, their favorite people are there to look after them. And what's more," she clasped her hands in mock excitement, "they brought presents to bribe them with!"
"And Jimmy didn't try to stop you?"
"Jimmy wasn't there. He's working." She took another drag of her cigarette. "He took a second job, you know. Got a whole family to feed."
"Marina…"
"And it's not like I'm helping or anything. I do nothing." She stubbed out that cigarette too and threw it on the lawn somewhat angrily.
"That's not true. You look after the kids. You cook and take care of the house, you-"
"I do nothing, Dawn. Look at me. Look at what I'm doing. I left my kids at home, because Jimmy's parents, whom I can't stand, decided to pop by. I picked up my old smoking habit without a second thought. I'm sitting here and being angry with everything and I'm probably going to stay here until Jimmy comes find me, and then I'll probably be angry with him and maybe shout at him a little too, even though he'll be exhausted from his eight-hour shift. And I probably won't even care." Marina shrugged and threw her hands above her head, while a few tears spilled from her eyes. "Because that's how horrible a person I am."
Dawn shook her head. "No. You're not," she said firmly and grabbed Marina's arm to make her look at her. "So you can't stand being around your in-laws, so what? I'm sure Mickey and Alex are just fine in their hands and I know you would never actually leave them alone. Jimmy loves you, you know that, so of course he's going to come look for you, because no matter how exhausted he may be, you will always come first. And he will take your tantrum and your drama and then take you home and treat you right, even though you'll probably be unreasonably mad at him, but he'll kiss you and tell you he loves you anyway."
Marina looked at Dawn, her light blue eyes heavy with sadness and sorrow, and she cried harder and all Dawn could do was put her arms around her and let her do so.
"I…" she breathed out between sobs, "I just feel so worthless, Blue. I don't know what to do."
Dawn just stroked her back soothingly. She didn't know how to help. She didn't know if she even could.
"I do nothing. I have nothing. This house, where we live – it was given to us, by them. It's not really mine. It's not really my home. I don't have a home. Jimmy bought a new apartment, but that's not really mine either. I earn nothing to repay him, or help him. And he works so hard. All I do is sit around all day and expect everyone around me to entertain me and make me happy."
"And are you?" Dawn asked quietly. "Happy?"
Marina shook her head and sobbed so violently that her breathing became ragged and uneven. "I could work, Dawn. I have a degree, I could find a job. I could. But, selfish as it may sound, I… I don't want to do something that's not my passion. And I don't know what my passion is." She buried her face in her hands. "So I do nothing. And let Jimmy take on the burden. And he doesn't even question it. He doesn't tell me how awful I am."
"You're not awful, Marina. You want to find something you enjoy, and Jimmy respects that. He doesn't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself." Dawn had no idea if she was getting anywhere with her words, but like hell was she going to just stand there and say nothing while her cousin delved in self-loathing.
"How can I? I don't find joy in anything I do. I make the people around me miserable as well. How can I look at myself in the mirror and not be ashamed?"
"Marina. Look at me," Dawn said firmly. "You have everything. You have a man who loves and cherishes you and gives you the freedom to find your own thing and do it at your own pace. You have two beautiful children who will one day grow up and make you proud. You have a roof over your head and it is yours, despite what you might think. You may have a bad habit, but you're a good person. The best person I know. And you may not have direction right now, but you have to believe it's all going to come together. You have to have faith, because if you don't have that…" She wiped a tear off her cousin's face. "… I cannot help you. Only you can help yourself."
Marina wiped the last of her tears and sighed tiredly. "How can I help myself, Blue? I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."
Dawn smiled. "And that's okay." She stood up and dusted her pants off. "Come on. We're watching Casablanca tonight."
Marina smiled slightly and stood up as well. "Thank you, Blue. Just promise me you won't tell Aunt Johanna that I offered you a cigarette, okay?"
Dawn gave a dry laugh. "Don't worry. She wouldn't care anyway."
