I was going to end the story by blowing up a nuclear bomb, but the characters mutinied. This is what they came up with. And since they're threatening to lock me in a gluten/dairy/sugar/caffeine-free rehab facility for lazy writers if I ever forget about this story again, I doubt I'll be taking another year-long hiatus. Hopefully.

Update: Hiatus avoided. Ha! Beat that, past self!

Clouds race across the sky, the same wind whipping my windbreaker and chilling my skin. The moments of peeking sun bring little warmth. I could sit inside the car with Manaphy, but the very idea is stifling. So I remain leaning against the hood, staring at the church parking lot across the street, wishing I had acted differently so this moment would have never come.

My car honks. I jump and spin around. "Manaphy," I hiss. Chances were low they could hear the sound from over there, but the last thing I want to do is mess up the woman's funeral.

"Mana!" it exclaims and joyfully pushes the horn again. And again.

"Manaphy!" I tug at the door, but the pokemon has somehow locked it. And my keys are in the ignition. "Come on!" Cursing, I kick the tire. When the horn sounds again, I slam my palm into the window. "Manaphy, stop. Unlock this door right now."

"Mana?" Manaphy cocks its head, my tone bringing an abrupt halt to its playtime. It plasters its face against the window. "Phee?"

"Unlock the door," I say slowly, pointing to the knob Manaphy had pushed down.

"Phee?" In reply, the blue pokemon drags its face down until my finger is pointing at its nose. Then it blows a raspberry against the window.

"Manaphy…" I take a step back, run my hands through my hair. My cell phone and pokeballs are in the car too. I could crash a brick through the window and then have a bunch of other problems to deal with, I could walk to Kaylee's and get yelled at for waking her up, or I could find a garage and fork out a lot of money for opening a stupid door. The truth is, I'm in no mood to deal with this.

"Really?!" A car door slams across the street and I look up to see a lady bang on the hood of her car. "Just work, you stupid—come on!"

I almost want to laugh at the irony; I'm not the only one having car trouble. I turn away, leaning against the side of my car. There's nothing I can do to help. I can't even unlock a dumb door.

"Manaphy." Manaphy peers through the windshield, appearing concerned. Even from across the street, I can hear the lady's sobs.

"Ah, darn." I straighten and glare at the blue pokemon. "Don't touch anything and don't move, hear me?" I stride across the street.

My steps falter as I near. She's younger than I previously thought—mid to late twenties. Black dress, pearl earrings, blonde hair pinned up: She was clearly here for the funeral. Her day has already been spoiled by my past actions. My presence now might just make things worse.

I pause at the edge of the parking lot, watching her tug at the hood of her compact car. I walk forward, not thinking, simply unable to watch her suffer in loneliness.

"Are you okay?"

She jumps and spins to face me, quickly wiping at tears that have tracked mascara down her cheeks. "Yes. No. Um, I can't…" She waves vaguely at her car, wiping away more tears with her other hand. "The hood won't open."

I approach the car cautiously, like I would a wounded pokemon. "I could get the hood open for you, but I'm afraid underneath it would just look like a mess to me."

She laughs, a pained and forced sound, and slides down the side of the car to sit on the gravel. "Just my luck. Just my luck."

I sit down beside her, far enough away that I'm not infringing on her space. "You were here for the funeral?"

"Half of it," she admits, rubbing her eyes. "I can't face anymore." She sniffs and I can hear the tears threatening to choke her. "She's my sister, you know? My big sister, always there for me, and when I need her most…" She buries her face in her hands and takes a shaky breath, then tilts her head back. "I need a drink."

"Good luck finding one this early on a Sunday."

She groans. "I hate small towns."

Undella Bay, a small town?

"You must be from Castelia," I respond.

"Guilty." She plays with the pendant on her necklace.

I don't know what else to say, so I stand up. "Hey, um, do you want me to find you a mechanic?"

"No," she says softly, shaking her head. "My uncle can fix it once the-the funeral is done."

I offer her my hand. "Then let me take you to coffee. There's a place within walking distance."

"Oh, no, no." She shakes her head vigorously, once again wiping at her face. "I look horrible; my mascara's probably run and my makeup's a mess—"

"You look prettier than I do."

My comment elicits a surprised laugh. She covers her mouth like the laugh was illegal and looks up at me. I still hold out my hand.

"Coffee?" I repeat. "It'll be a distraction, or at least something to warm you up." Her black dress is sleeveless and her arms are covered in chill bumps.

A tiny smile dances at her lips. "Okay." She takes my hand and stands up.

"Micah Hollins," I introduce myself.

"Adelaide," she replies. She releases my hand to rub her arms. "Where is this coffee place you mentioned?"

I point to the right. "Just on the corner."

She takes a step and stumbles on the gravel, catching herself on my arm. "These—urgh, high heels. One minute. Let me grab my flip-flops." She rips open the door, throws in her heels, and pulls on the other shoes. Her toenails are painted a light blue, a detail that Kaylee would have teased me about for noticing. I clear my throat.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

We walk on the sidewalk in silence, me in worn jeans, her in a funeral dress and flip-flops. I'm afraid to ask her a question that will remind her of the tears, so she's the one who breaks the silence.

"Are you from here?"

"Born and raised," I reply. "Though my parents now live in Lentimas Town."

"Really? What prompted the move?"

I shrug. "My mom hates sand, my dad wanted to fly planes—really, I think they just wanted a change."

She nods. "I get that. I grew up in Nacrene City but moved to Castelia as soon as I could get away. I like it there; there's always something going on. It's hard for me to imagine how a beach town like Undella has avoided that hustle and bustle."

"You haven't seen it in tourist season."

"I guess so. Any more family?"

"A little brother who's attending school in Johto and an older sister who lives outside Humilau. She has a daughter, Heather, and is due to have another in the fall."

She smiles. "You're an uncle, then."

"Not nearly as doting as I should be with my work."

Sadness crosses her face and she looks up. "I was going to spoil Meg and Owen something rotten after they were born, but never could find the time. I wish I had."

I pause at the door to the coffee shop, searching for something to say. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Me too."

I open the door in silence and join the barista in pretending not to notice her tears when she orders hot chocolate. It starts raining when we take our drinks to a table.

"Perfect timing," I comment.

Adelaide doesn't seem to hear me. She stares into her mug. "She tried to make hot chocolate from scratch once. Melting the chocolate in the saucepan and whisking it and all that. It tasted super bitter because she forgot to add the sugar." She blinks the tears away and looks up. "Sorry. I don't mean to cry all over you, Micah."

"It's fine. I totally get it."

"Have you—sorry." She dabs at her eyes with a napkin. "Have you ever lost someone?"

Yes, but how can I explain that every time a rescue fails it is like losing a part of myself, even when I don't even know the other person's name? How can I tell her that I'm the one who had a chance to save her sister but didn't?

"I still have my immediate family." It's the truth, but not the answer.

"Oh yeah, duh. Sorry. You just told me that." She wipes her eyes again and then balls up the napkin. I can sense her will to squash the tears. "Um, well. What's your brother studying?"

"Biomedical engineering with a minor in business management." I force a smile. "It gives him a big head sometimes to be the only one of the three of us to go to college, but otherwise he's okay."

"You didn't?"

"I joined the Coast Guard straight out of high school."

"Coast Guard." Her face falls. Coffee had been a mistake. Everything I say reminds her of her grief, and everything she says reminds me of my guilt. "Thank you." Her words catch me by surprise. She flashes me a smile. "If it wasn't for people like you, then we would have lost everyone."

I restrain my denial and settle for giving her a nod. "You're welcome."

We sip our drinks in silence. I watch the rain patter against the window, leaving wet tracks on the glass. I can feel Adelaide's grief like a blanket around me, heavy but…comforting. I don't need to be fine around her, I don't need to get over my failure. In a way, it's refreshing. Until, that is, I remember that I am the cause of her sadness.

"Do you know of a good place to stay in town?" Adelaide finally asks. "I'll be here a few more days but I think my brother-in-law needs some space."

While I think, I take a sip of tepid coffee. "Phoebe's Bed and Breakfast is on Dune Street and it's supposed to be good. If you want a view of the ocean, though, you should go for Vista Inn on Searidge."

"I like to feel the sand between my toes in the morning, so I'll probably go for Vista." She sighs. "I need to return. The funeral will be over soon."

"It looks like the rain has lightened up." I push my chair back. "Can I throw that away for you?"

"Thank you." She hands me her empty cup.

It's misting when we step outside, still cold, and a light fog has rolled in. I hope for the coast guards on duty that they have a quiet day, for the weather would be a nightmare to search in. The parking lot is still full when we arrive, and I notice with relief that Manaphy didn't manage to drive my car away while I was gone.

"Are you sure you don't know how to fix cars?" Adelaide asks ruefully, staring at her vehicle.

I wish I had Colin with me. "I'll give it a shot. Do you have the keys?" She hands them to me. Leaning in, I put them into the ignition and turn. The engine rumbles to life.

"I swear…"

I turn around to see Adelaide with her hands over her mouth, looking like she wants to laugh and cry at once.

"Now I feel stupid," she whispers.

I shrug. "Don't worry about it. The salt water does weird stuff to cars here."

"Thanks, Micah." She gives me a quick hug before slipping into the driver's seat.

"Hey." I notice two dry-cleaner hangers swinging off a hook in her car. "Could I have one of those hangers?"

"Uh, yeah." She hands it to me. "What for?"

"To unlock my car." I step back. "Well, see you. I hope your visit gets better."

"Micah, wait." She digs in her purse, brings out a piece of scrap paper, and scribbles something on it. "Here's my number." She holds it out. "Maybe call me later this week and show me around?"

I don't know a polite way to refuse. I accept the number as people start coming out of the church. "I have to go." I hold up a hand and step back.

"See you." She waves. "Thanks for the coffee."

Spotting the husband and kids emerge from the church with an older woman, I turn around before they see me. I know I won't see Adelaide again, if not for her sake, than mine. The conversation today was too painful. Without looking at the number, I crumble the paper in my hand and drop it in a puddle as I cross the street.

Manaphy is asleep in the backseat when I return, curled up on my sweaty gym clothes. As I unwind the wire hanger and slip it between the rubber and the window glass, I'm glad my car is an older model. Kaylee's would probably scream at me for doing something like this.

"Mana?" Manaphy looks up when I open the door. I reach in and rub its antennas.

"Hey, blue guy. Be glad I've had practice on Jen's car or I'd have had to walk all the way home."

"Mana." Manaphy yawns and closes its eyes.

I wait for the funeral procession to pass before starting my car and pulling into the street. The rain streaks like tears across the windshield.