(Happy 4th of July, for my American readers! Hope you enjoy this next installment!)
Chapter 29
I woke up shaking. What time is it? What day is it? Who am I? What am I? C'mon you idiot, you should at least know the last two questions! My legs pushed my groggy self to the window of the warehouse I had slept in for the night. The sun was already out—the storm had retreated. Okay, at least that. I rushed to a windowless corner of the warehouse, still trembling like crazy. I could barely walk straight. It was as if some had lifted me up, with strings like those on a puppet. He played with me for the night, then dropped me back down when the summer rose. My puppet-thin legs could barely support my whole weight, weak from being lifted up for so long. Arceus. Fuck all these things you do to me.
I thought maybe if I could sleep in the dark corner the trembling would stop. But I couldn't even sit still. My solid claws kept banging against the wall in my tremulous fits. Bang. Bang. Bang. Shit, that just broke my dream. I remembered being with Maria. Yes, it was Maria, I think so, I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter anyway. Most importantly, I remember you, Henry. I remember the katana, the oyster flesh the oyster shells, how I destroyed them with my sharp claws…oh, will you come back to me in the waking hours, when I need you the most? Will you? Bring along the young oshawott as well, if you can. Please! I need you now! Come back! Come back!
Knock knock. The door to the outside sounded.
"Come in!"
A buizel opened the door. "Mack…we're gonna need this room for move practice class. Would you make sure you leave in about an hour?"
"Oh…that's all right." I stood up. "I was gonna leave anyway." I made my way to the door, and out into the streets again.
I don't belong here. I never did.
The bar hadn't opened yet; it was only two in the afternoon. Much of the staff was lazy to wake—sopped by the toxic brew of alcohol, flashing lights, and oyster slime—and hadn't come to clean up from the night before. Maria was the only other soul inside the dark, empty building; scraping off the vomit stains with her seamitar, wiping it clean with the antiseptic. The chairs still lay there, strewn in unpredictable positions from the festivities. One leaned on the edge of the wall, tilted. One seemed to precariously stand on a single leg. You could almost imagine all the pokémon, animated in the stillness of all the empty chairs. An inebriated snivy making a jump across the tables, only to fall a few inches short and crash into a pile of chairs. A young, confused oshawott making the balancing act in the most contorted positions. A far-too-young Seel standing on a chair, balancing more than just a ball on his nose.
I called her. "I brought you some water."
She smiled. "Thanks." She drank it in one gulp.
"How are you?"
She didn't give an answer, instead taking a seat on one of the upright chairs.
"Here, let help you clean this table you're sitting at." I sprayed a little of the cleaner on the wooden surface, and wiped the table slowly, trying to get off any traces of the night before. As I stared into the lacquer, clear drops appeared at the spot where Maria was sitting.
"What's wrong, Maria? Maria?"
"I'm getting old, Mack," she finally said, muffled by the table she leaned over. She was crying.
"You're getting old?" I took a seat beside her.
"I think you heard me the first time, damn it! Look, are you gonna help me, or sit there like a bleeding chatot!?"
"I…I…I'm sorry. It's just…"
"No, no, I'm sorry. It's just…"
"What makes you think you're getting old?" I asked her.
"It's, it's not just one thing. It never is, y'know. I'll name one thing. Like this morning, when I pulled a fresh oyster out of the fridge to ease this, fucking, hangover. I gulped it down, really fast, like you always do. I was throwing up in the toilet for thirty minutes straight. I just can't tolerate the oysters I love to eat anymore. For my stomach, it's too gritty and contaminated—"
"Oyster flesh is not contaminated!" I insisted. "It's purity at its finest, it's the youth and joy of the great oceans, all bottled up, it's, a masterpiece. How dare you call it that!"
"What happened to you?" She frowned at me. "The whole of that time at the party a couple of nights ago, you were tossing shells all over the place and pouring the flesh on your face like it was rubbish or something."
"The alcohol's talking rubbish into you. It probably wasn't me; there were a whole bunch of samurotts at the rave."
"Oh yeah!? Oh yeah!? Well then listen to this, Mack." She had gotten out of the chair and stood up on her four legs. "You can think of oysters however you want, I really give zero fucks. You could have a whole reef of them, for all I fucking care. And I'll be laughing my silly ass off the whole, fucking, time. 'Cause every oyster shell you pry open from now on will be empty. Empty. Just a vessel for you to hold your sorry tears in and pour it down the drain. Y'know why? you wanna know why? 'Cause the best foods in the world are never the same without someone to share it with. You gotta learn that living, moving bodies near you are biggest pearls. Not the oysters in the reef. Not the ocean, not the sun, not the dark night."
I just sat there, deep in thought. How big would this reef be, exactly?
"Well, have some decency to at least talk to a lady! Answer me! What d'you want!? Me? Or oysters?"
"OYSTERS!" I shouted right back at her. Then it went quiet.
Maria finally spoke. "Well…fine! Eat all the fucking oysters you want! Just get the fuck out of here! Customers aren't allowed anyway." I heard as I slowly stepped away, left the building. Arceus, she's so nice to me. And I'd thought all along she was a fucking murderer. She's actually a pretty nice young samurott, she really cares about me. I mean, I was going to do it anyway, but it was nice to have her approval.
She let me eat all the oysters I want.
