Bittersweet
A Pokemon Fanfiction
By Barb the Java Master
Legal DisclaimerPokemon and its related characters are copyrighted to their respective owners including Game Freak, 4Kids Entertainment, Nintendo, etc. No profit is being made from this story.
Author's NotesThe two characters Andrew and Alexandra belong to me (literally). Dr. James Berringer is also my creation.
Rating: PG for mature topics.
Text in italics denote thoughts
Text in [squared brackets] is translated Pokemon speech
Text preceded by dashes as follows --- denotes flashbacks or thoughts and words from the past
Chapter Four: Now What?
It was one of those weeks, where Thursday felt like Monday and the weekend seemed far off. Misty was grateful that on Thursday, Joy had allowed her to go home early since the Center hadn't been that busy. Misty needed the study time since final examinations were looming next month and she had been very distracted with Ash leaving and all. She sighed when she realized that the house hadn't been really cleaned well since last weekend. Putting on her grungiest clothes and popping a Pink Floyd CD into the stereo system, Misty elected to clean the floor first. How the kids and Togepi managed to drag this much dirt onto her floor was a mystery.
What did Gary mean about what happened in Viridian City? Ash said that nothing happened. And I believe Ash—don't I? Misty scrubbed the floor even harder, seeking to erase Gary's smirking face from her recent memory. Why am I even worrying about this? Ash would never—do that to me. But, she recalled, Ash and I have not been intimate lately. She tried to remember the last time they'd had enough privacy to even make love. If I am not the one he loves anymore, have I been replaced somehow? By someone else, even if only for a night? Misty shook her head as she wrung out the mop. We have been through too much together, haven't we, for this to happen.
Misty straightened, feeling her spine align itself, much slower than before. I must be getting old, she thought with a sly grin. Her grin disappeared as she glanced out the window at her weed-strewn yard. Every year, it was the same story: she vowed to be a better gardener and bought the necessary supplies. Ash had occasionally grumbled about the cost and she had argued that the Pokemon Master's house had better look good both outside and inside, since it was included on a Pallet Town bus tour. But, despite her best efforts, her yard still overran with weeds and dying flowers. Misty looked around the house, freshly mopped and dusted. But she still saw nooks and crannies needing attention, like the kitchen, bathroom, and hallway. Like my marriage, she thought glumly as she headed towards the kitchen. Where romance and affection once bloomed, now only frustration and disillusionment grew.
After thoroughly cleaning her kitchen, Misty sat down and began sifting through some old photographs that had been tossed unlovingly into a desk drawer, rather than carefully placed into an album. She found a photo of herself and Ash, both young adults, on a camping trip. Ash had held the camera at arm's length and snapped the photo of the two of them grinning like fools. Misty smiled at the memory.
--She remembered the night exactly as it happened. She was 19 and Ash had just turned 18 the week before. They had been swimming in a lake while camping in the Viridian Forest, which had been Ash's strange idea of celebrating their three-year anniversary as a couple. After changing into their pajamas, they had roasted marshmallows over the embers of a fire built with Charizard's help. All of their Pokemon had been strangely quiet and complacent that night, as though they could sense Misty and Ash's emotions in the air, like scent on the wind. She remembered feeling Ash's weight atop her as they moved in synchronous motions illuminated by the glowing embers and the moonlight breaking through the forest canopy.
Misty did notice that several photographs were missing including one taken of her as a small child by her sister Violet. She rummaged through the drawer, thinking the photos had been victims of the avalanche of papers she sifted through. The telephone disturbed her task and she answered in a soft, slow voice: "Hello?"
"Mist? Is everything okay? I just wanted to check on you." Ash said, clearly nervous.
"Yeah, Ash, I'm fine. Are we still on for tomorrow night at Nobi's?" Misty asked hopefully.
"Yeah, I guess so. Look, Misty, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather eat at home. I don't want to discuss this in a public place, okay?" Ash's voice became flat and disinterested.
"Well, okay." Misty replied. Great. Now I have to cook, too. "I'm getting the kids from your mother's house in a little while. I got off early today and decided to do some spring cleaning."
"But it's summer," Ash said half-jokingly.
"I know. But the house needed it and I need to study, too."
"Okay. See you tomorrow, Mist. Take care. Bye."
Ash was debating whether or not to have Charizard simply destroy the stack of papers in his inbox when a familiar face appeared at his office door. "Tracey!" Ash stood to greet his old friend. "How are you?" Ash and Tracey shook hands warmly.
"I'm fine, Ash, and you?"
"Okay." Ash said. He had been using that word, okay, a lot lately. "Okay" was a good word to use when you wanted to convey feelings of happiness that you wished were yours without burdening others with your tales of woe. Tracey, always observant, noticed the lowering of Ash's voice and the way his shoulders slumped forward.
"Ash, first let me tell you that I finished that charcoal drawing of the kids. I dropped it off at your house the other day. And, I also wanted to let you know that I talked with Misty." I hope he doesn't throw me out now, Tracey thought.
"Oh, really? How did Misty look?" Ash's voice revealed concern.
"She looked distraught, Ash. Sad. Want to talk about it?" Tracey closed the door behind him. Ash motioned for Tracey to sit down.
"I don't know where to begin, Trace. It's just that a lot has happened—" Ash's voice trailed off as he sat down and rubbed his eyes, reddened and unfocused from lack of sleep.
"Ash, you and Misty are two of my closest friends. I've known you both for a long time, and I hate seeing you like this. I'd like to help, if you'll let me. I have noticed, Ash, that you haven't been yourself lately. You seem off-kilter, or something."
"Trace, I can't explain why I feel this way. I feel like a failure and I don't know why. I mean, look at me," Tracey heard Ash's voice break as his eyes filled with tears, "I am the Pokemon Master, just like I said I would be. I'm married to the only girl I have ever truly loved. I have two beautiful children." Tracey handed Ash a box of tissues from the corner of Ash's desk, and waited for Ash to compose himself to continue. "So, then, why am I so unhappy? I wish I knew, Trace. The only way I can describe it is it's like a plague in my brain."
"A plague?" Tracey asked curiously.
"Yeah. You could give me a million dollars, and it wouldn't make this feeling go away."
"I know what you mean, Ash. I really do." Tracey met Ash's sorrowful gaze. How can anyone know how totally awful I feel?
"Huh?" Ash replied dumbly.
"When I was thirteen years old, my mother enrolled me in a school for the performing arts on Tangelo Island. She always said she loved my drawings and scribbles I made for her when I was a child." Tracey smiled. "I entered a portrait of her in a school-wide contest and won first prize. Everyone but me was happy, even my father. He hung the portrait and my ribbon in the hallway of our house."
"What happened? Why were you so upset?" Ash was a little surprised at Tracey's candor; the shy artist usually kept to himself. Although their friendship spanned decades, Ash knew very little about Tracey's family.
"My mother never knew I won. She lost her battle with breast cancer a week before the contest judges made their decision." Tracey cleared his throat before continuing. "Every time I walked past that portrait, I nearly burst into tears. My father finally dragged me to a doctor when he said I wouldn't stop moping about the house."
"What'd the doctor say?"
"He diagnosed me with depression. Low-grade, nothing major. I wasn't going insane and I wasn't suicidal. I just could not be happy about anything anymore." Tracey looked at the floor, remembering how he'd destroyed several paintings in a depression-induced rage, and how his father had held him protectively as he cried for several minutes afterwards. "And I think that is what is happening to you, Ash." Tracey sat back in his chair. "Have you talked to anyone about this besides me?"
"No." Ash sighed, remembering how Misty had tried to get him to open up and how he'd shut the door on her affections. "Misty thinks I am just in a perpetual bad mood. She must feel so frustrated."
"I'm not telling you to go see a shrink, Ash, but if it helps—I did. Between taking the medication he prescribed and just talking about how I felt, I started feeling like myself again. I'm not telling you what to do Ash, but I hate seeing you like this."
"I'll think about it. And thanks, Tracey."
"Oh, the drawing? It was nothing…"
"No, just--thank you." Ash smiled at his friend. Tracey smiled back.
**
Ash was still thinking about Tracey's words as he walked through the Viridian Forest with Andrew. Deciding to follow in Misty's footsteps, he took the rest of the afternoon off, after ensuring that life at the Gym would indeed go on without his presence. Pikachu rested on Ash's shoulders as always and Meganium trotted close to his heels. Depression, huh? Tracey thinks I am depressed. Ash soon felt familiar emotions flood his subconscious mind.
--He lay in bed, arms folded behind his head. He frowned while staring at the ceiling, thinking, 'Why'd I have to lose?' He heard voices in the next room: Brock, Delia, Professor Oak, and Misty. 'I think he feels like a total loser because he lost the match,' that was Brock speaking. 'But he can't stay in bed all day,' that was Misty. Losing the 5th round match to Ritchie was bad; having a Charizard who wouldn't obey him was worse; and having the girl who made his heart beat faster watch him lose was the absolute worst.
--Ash, let's go for a walk. She is smiling at him.
--Go by yourself. Why am I treating Misty this way? I didn't want to say that.
--Then let's get something to eat, she replies. She's persistent, isn't she?
--He rolled away from her, not wanting to face her. She was becoming angry now and it reflected in her voice: When are you gonna get over yourself, Ash?
--Then came the big argument, so big it brought everyone into the room to see what Ash and Misty were yelling about. And everyone sided with Misty! How could they? Pikachu effectively ended the debate with a Thundershock that left everyone on the floor. Ash had run out afterwards, trying to collect his thoughts into some sort of coherence. He remembered seeing the pain on Misty's face as he left, vowing to return 'sometime.'
Ash came to the realization that his feelings following his defeat in the League Games and his feelings of failure now were strangely similar. Okay, but now what? What do I do? Do I keep pushing Misty away, even though she is trying so hard to help me? Ash was deep in thought when Andrew grabbed his hand and pointed excitedly to a small tree ahead of them. Clinging to the tree was a small green wormlike Pokemon.
"Daddy! Look, it's a Caterpie!" Andrew said, fairly dragging Ash closer to the tree and the Pokemon, who paid no heed to the humans behind it. Meganium looked at the little Pokemon and snorted.
[I hope you don't expect me to battle that little weakling,] she said condescendingly.
[You know how Misty would react if Ash brought home one of those types,] Pikachu replied.
Ash smiled. "Want to try and catch it, Andrew?"
"Yeah!"
Ash grinned. He pulled an unassigned, standard-type Pokeball from his belt and handed it to Andrew, who walked cautiously closer to the Caterpie. Holding the empty Pokeball in his right hand, Andrew threw a near-perfect pitch at the small Pokemon. "Pokeball, go!" Andrew exclaimed, causing the Caterpie to turn its head slightly. Caterpie was suddenly absorbed into red energy. The Pokeball snapped shut, the light and beep indicating a successful capture.
"I caught a Caterpie!" Andrew said, holding the ball in one hand and holding up his index and middle fingers in a "v" sign, just like Daddy had taught him. Ash grinned and hugged his son.
**
After cleaning as much as she could, and then attempting to fill her head with information regarding the neurobiology of Water Pokemon, Misty lay down on the couch with her textbook sprawled across her chest. Drifting in and out of sleep, Misty was surprised when Ash and Andrew came into the house, Andrew holding a Pokeball, and shouting in glee, "Mommy! Guess what! I caught a Pokemon!"
Misty tried to sit up and asked, "Is Alexandra still at your mother's house?" Andrew was busily shoving the Pokeball under Misty's nose.
Ash nodded. "Andrew and I went for a walk in the woods and Andrew caught his first Pokemon." Ash smiled proudly, as did Misty.
"You did? Let me see!" Misty said, excitement building in her voice.
Andrew threw the Pokeball towards the freshly mopped floor, and Caterpie came out and looked at Misty quizzically. Misty flinched. He caught a Caterpie? Oh, this is just what I need.
[Can Caterpie sense fear in humans?] Meganium asked, noticing Misty's expression.
[I don't think so,] Pikachu responded. He remembered how violently Misty had reacted to Ash's capturing a Caterpie so many years ago, but how sad she seemed when Butterfree had left their group.
Misty glanced at Ash, who was grinning at her in a very silly way. At first she was puzzled, but then grinned right back.
"Mist, it won't hurt you. Come here," Ash knelt down on the floor next to the Pokemon and pulled Misty down alongside him. "Just hold out your hand."
"I don't want to. Ash, I don't want that thing crawling on me!" Misty resisted Ash's pull but knelt on the floor anyway.
"At least it's not a Spinarak. Here, do this…" Ash held Misty's arm out straight, her palm resting on the ground. Then he placed his arm underneath hers and entwined their fingers together. Caterpie looked at them both, cocked its head cutely, and then slowly crawled to Misty's hand. Misty flinched again but then looked at Ash's smiling face.
"Just relax, Misty. I'm here, too." Caterpie inched its way onto Misty's hand and forearm but she was surprised to find out that Caterpie really wasn't as slimy as she thought it would be. Caterpie crawled a few more inches onto Misty's arm. With some trepidation, Misty placed her other hand atop Caterpie's head and stroked it gently.
"Congratulations, Andrew. You did it." Misty smiled at her son. Andrew beamed. He wasn't sure if he was happier about catching his first Pokemon, or about seeing his parents holding hands. They hadn't done that in a long time.
"The house looks good, Mist. You did a good job cleaning." Ash stood up, pulling Misty with him. Misty gently lowered her arm and Caterpie crawled to his new trainer, Andrew. Ash looked around the house appraisingly.
"Uh, thanks, Ash." Misty stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "But, you know, Ash, I couldn't find some old photos of ours, like the one from our wedding that your mother took. And some others are missing as well. I wonder what happened to them."
"I don't know. Don't you usually put them away?"
"I thought I did." Misty shrugged.
"They're in Alexandra's room." Ash and Misty turned to face Andrew, who was balancing a very mobile Caterpie on his shoulder.
"How did they get in there?" Misty asked curiously.
"Here, come and see." Andrew took Misty's hand and led her, with Ash following closely, down the hallway. Turning into Alexandra's room, Misty had to smile for propped against some small stuffed animals on the dresser were the missing photographs. Ash and Misty, dressed in bridal attire, smiling at the camera. Ash and Misty, dressed in kimonos, dancing. Misty, holding a baby in her arms while sitting upright with Ash's arm around hers. Looking at the visible memories, Ash had to smile, too.
"Um...Alexandra said she liked these photos and asked me to put them in here. Am I in trouble?" Andrew asked.
"No, sweetheart. Not at all." Misty felt Ash's hand on her shoulder and instinctively moved closer to him.
**
Friday evening found Misty checking herself in the mirror again and again, something she hadn't done in a long time. Ash was due for dinner in a few minutes and she had the perfect evening planned. The kids were with Delia; dinner was warm and ready. Misty decided on one final touch: placing a CD into the stereo system, she listened to the song she and Ash had danced to at their wedding nearly ten years earlier. Hearing the low rumble of Ash's Camry pulling into the driveway, Misty said a silent prayer and opened the door.
Ash smiled at his wife. Misty didn't usually get dressed up for dinner but tonight she was wearing a navy blue halter dress and her small round diamond earrings, a 5th anniversary present from Ash. Misty's reddish hair hung down, unencumbered by the numerous ponytail holders and clips Ash usually saw scattered about the house. Misty smiled back at him. Ash had showered and changed at the Gym, and was wearing a white button down oxford shirt and his cleanest blue jeans.
"Ready to eat?" Misty asked.
Ash jumped a bit, as his mind was far from where he was standing. He stopped looking Misty over for a moment and replied, "Huh?"
"I said, are you ready to eat? Dinner's ready now if you're hungry." Misty stepped aside to let Ash in.
"Uh, yeah, I am. I didn't eat much for lunch today."
Misty thanked Ash for getting their drinks, and began replaying the CD from the beginning. As the music played softly in the background, small talk filled the air between them, and they smiled nervously at each other. The more they ate, the more silent the house became, until only the stereo could be heard. How is it possible that Ash and I have become such intimate strangers? Misty wondered.
"Why are you so quiet tonight, Mist?" Ash finally asked.
"I don't know. It's like—I don't know how to talk to you anymore." Misty attempted to make eye contact with her husband.
"Me, too." Ash looked down at his plate.
"I mean, we've been through so much together and then you just dump this on me—" Misty stopped herself. All right, Misty, this is where you shut up before you ruin everything.
"I didn't just dump this on you, Mist. This has been a long time coming." Ash frowned.
Anxious to avoid a scene like the one at the Pokemon Center, Misty changed the subject. "Ash, did your mother ever say anything to you about us getting, um, professional help?"
"Yeah, she did. Did she talk to you, too?"
"Yeah. I already saw a marriage and family therapist this week, Ash. But I was wondering, could we go together next week? Please?"
Ash remembered Tracey's words at the Gym. He looked into Misty's aquamarine eyes. "Misty," he began hesitantly, "do you want a divorce?" Do I even want to know the answer to this question? Ash's gaze became almost fearful.
"No," Misty replied firmly. Ash relaxed. "And I am very sorry if I ever gave you reason to think I did. Do you want a divorce, Ash?" What if he does? What then?
"No, I don't think so." Ash looked at the table and then at Misty, who was resting her chin in her hands. "So, when is the appointment?"
"It's sometime next week. I forgot the actual date. I wrote it down somewhere and I'll call you and let you know."
"Okay. Hey, Misty, what CD are we listening to?" Ash looked at her questioningly. A familiar melody entered his ears.
"It's from the play we saw when we first started dating, remember, Ash?" Misty lifted her fork to her mouth, and winked at him.
"Yeah, I remember." Ash said. I remember all, right. I remember my heart nearly stopping when I saw Misty in that black dress. Watching the play, or rather, watching Misty watching the play—talking until three in the morning afterwards. Buying Misty the CD because she loved the play—and dancing with his bride nearly nine months later.
"Ash," Misty began softly, "I know the kids are with your mom. And I know you're staying there, too." She placed her hand atop his. "But you don't have to go there tonight if you don't want to." She stroked his hand and their eyes met and locked. Ash smiled and nodded. Less than one hour later, Ash himself felt absurdly glad that Victoria's Secret had extended their sale.
***
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ash." Dr. Berringer shook Ash's hand as he ushered them into his office.
"Same here, doctor." Ash lied. His ability to speak coherently had left him the last time they had tried counseling. However, the previous week's events had served to remind Ash how—incomplete—his life was without Misty by his side. He would do anything to make her happy, anything to keep her with him for the rest of his life.
"Please sit down." The doctor gestured towards the ivory couch.
Ash and Misty took seats on the couch, leaving enough space for a person to sit between them. Dr. Berringer sat down and began explaining marriage counseling to Ash.
"Ash, I've already had the opportunity to speak with your wife, Misty. And now I would like to speak with you. Typically, two people attend counseling sessions together to discuss specific issues. Misty has already mentioned a few of those issues, and I'd like to hear your side. Firstly, Misty said that you told her you no longer love her. Is this a true statement?"
Ash swallowed. "I…um, I just think that I don't feel the same about her as when we got married. But I…" Ash stopped and nervously ran his fingers through his hair, aware of Misty's questioning gaze. "I, um, yes, I do love her." Misty closed her eyes and smiled softly. "But, I don't think that she loves or respects me anymore."
"So you separated. You are living with your mother now?" Dr. Berringer asked.
"Yeah. If I need to stay late at the Gym, I sleep there."
"How old are you, Ash?"
"I just turned thirty."
"Ash, why do you feel that Misty no longer loves you, or respects you?"
"Well, she insults me. She's always been insulting me, ever since we've known each other. She calls me names. She yells at me, and at our kids. I—I just—I've had it." Ash's gaze was hard.
"Ash, we cannot change what others do. But we can control and change our reactions to what others do. Do either of you have a difficult time saying 'I'm sorry'?" Ash and Misty looked at each other guiltily and then down at the carpet.
Misty spoke first. "I guess I do. It's just that sometimes the answer is right in front of him, and he doesn't see it. That irritates me. I do apologize—sometimes. I probably should work on this. But for him to say," Misty choked on her words in frustration, "for him to say that I don't love him when he spends all his time either at work or at the computer, I find hard to believe. Who doesn't love who, Ash?" Her voice became tight and sharp.
"You must have a busy schedule, Ash." Dr. Berringer commented.
"Yeah, I am the Pokemon Master right now. There are certain things I have to do, and I can't ask other people to do them for me. Misty works, too, at the Pokemon Center." At the age of 10, Ash thought that being the Pokemon Master would be quite an ego trip. However, no one had mentioned the paperwork and penury that accompanied the title. Achieving his lifelong goal at age 22 seemed wonderful at the time, but now the rest of his life loomed before him as an empty highway, with no signs pointing him in the direction he needed to go.
"I know you have a lot of responsibilities. But surely delegating some of those responsibilities wouldn't hurt, would it? I do understand that if a trainer were to defeat the Elite Four and then challenge you, you would have to battle them. But some of your other, less important duties, could be handed to Junior Trainers or Gym Leaders, maybe?"
"I guess so." Ash hedged.
"Earning a living is hard these days. But both of you should remember that you should not be so occupied with earning a living that you overlook spending time with each other and displaying interest in each other as a person." Dr. Berringer sat back and watched Ash and Misty sneak furtive glances at each other before continuing, "Now as to the matter of respect, Ash. Do you feel that Misty's name-calling and insulting you counts as disrespect?"
"Sure does. I mean, she doesn't do this to anyone else but me."
"And if you were to ignore Misty in favor of playing a computer game, would that count as disrespecting her?"
Ash opened and closed his mouth several times. He considered possible answers, many of which had been given to either his mother or to Misty, sometimes in anger. Now they all sounded hollow and meaningless. When Ash finally answered, it was in a low, ashamed tone of voice: "Yeah."
"Respect is not gained by ordering someone to respect you. You, Ash, must earn respect by how you speak and act, and by what you are. The same holds true for Misty." Dr. Berringer turned to Misty. "Let me ask you something, Misty. Is Ash difficult to respect? By that I mean, is he domineering or chauvinistic?"
Misty smiled. "No, Ash is easy to get along with. He can be opinionated but he does listen to others." Ash looked at her, pleased at her compliments. "I never thought of Ash as a male chauvinist. He was raised by his mother, and he has always treated her with respect."
"Ash, let me ask you: is Misty difficult to respect or love?"
"No, not really. But it is hard to tell someone you love them when they are insulting you."
Misty flinched. "Ash, what are you talking about?"
Ash faced Misty, his face hard. "Do you have any idea how utterly…humiliating it is to be in love with someone who thinks you are a complete idiot? Do you, Misty?"
"I—" Misty began, but Ash cut her off. "Misty, you've been telling me for years that I am stupid or dense. Yet you married me anyway! If you think I am denser than the Viridian forest, then why on earth are you still here with me?" Ash noticed that Misty was blinking back tears.
"Because I love you Ash, with all my heart." Misty's eyes clouded over.
"Do you really mean that?" Ash asked softly.
"Of course I do." Misty wiped her eyes. "You are a part of me now, Ash. I think sometimes you always have been. I am sorry for calling you names. If I could take it back, I would." She sighed. Dr. Berringer was handing her a tissue and she looked up. The doctor motioned for her to continue speaking. "I don't understand us sometimes, Ash. Why are will still afraid of rejection?"
"What do you mean by that, Misty?" Dr. Berringer interjected.
"We both hid our feelings for so long. I guess we were both afraid we wouldn't like each other. But why are we like this so many years later?" Misty said.
"Well, you both have a difficult time apologizing. And you both seem to spend a lot of your free time alone or apart from each other. Communication is a vital element lacking in many families. Ash and Misty, you both need to work at communicating. Discuss your activities and feelings. You may laugh, cry, or get angry. But talk it out." Dr. Berringer said before continuing to write.
"I had thought it was because I wasn't, um, young and beautiful." Misty blurted out. Both Ash and the doctor stared at her momentarily. She blushed.
"What does that mean, Mist?" Ash asked in surprise.
"Well, it's just that I've been told for most of my life that I'm not the prettiest girl in the world. My father paid little attention to me, since he and my mother were busy taking care of my older sisters."
"You are the youngest, then?" Dr. Berringer asked.
"Yes. My sisters are triplets and my parents didn't think that they would have any more children. Then, when my sisters turned six, my mother found out she was pregnant with me. My parents died when I was nine, in a car crash. A drunk driver hit them head-on. And my sisters, who were fifteen at the time, were burdened with my care." Misty disliked talking about her family; the bad memories outweighed the good. No matter what Aunt Holly or cousin Lily said to assuage her fears, Misty still felt somehow responsible for her parents' deaths. And her sisters discovered soon that tormenting her offered them more entertainment than simply befriending her.
"You were a burden?" The doctor asked.
"They told me I was. They called me a little runt. I know they probably wanted to go out, have fun, you know, just to be teenagers. But they had this little girl to care for. I think they resented me. They always told me I was ugly. Eventually, I started believing them." Misty looked down at her lap.
"Misty," Ash said as he moved closer to her, "you are not ugly. You know, when I first saw you I thought you were beautiful. It's not about that. I mean, I am not exactly Fiorello Cappuchino, either." Ash shot her the lopsided grin she had grown to love.
"And then what Gary Oak said—" Misty started, feeling Ash's body tense up. Ash winced at the mention of his rival's name. "Gary said that Ash…well, that something happened last year at the Pokemon Conference in Viridian City."
"When did you see Gary?" Ash asked.
"Here, after my last appointment, Ash."
"If you believe Gary over me, Misty, I don't know what to think. I already told you that nothing happened." Ash held Misty in his arms and she nestled closer to him.
"What exactly was the incident in question?" Dr. Berringer interposed.
"I went—alone—to the Pokemon Conference last year, since Misty and her sisters were on vacation at the time. A woman named Patty tried to buy me a drink in the hotel bar. I declined. She tried to talk to me, but I said I was busy, and tried to act like I wasn't interested. She—came on to me, I guess—and I asked to be left alone. She left the bar after that. This happened Saturday night, I think, but I haven't seen her since then." Ash released Misty from his grasp. "I told you. Nothing happened."
"What are your views on infidelity, Ash?" Dr. Berringer's soft, low voice broke through the silence.
"It's horrible. My father—my parents are divorced—cheated on my mother. It devastated her and our family. I hate him for what he did. He never was very discreet about it, but mom wanted to stay married to him for my sake, I guess. They were married for a while, but they hated each other. Eventually he began—abusing her."
"Physically?" The doctor asked, seeing Ash's hands clenched into fists. He'd very nearly been arrested for assault and battery the last time he spoke to his biological father after he'd won the title of Pokemon Master.
Ash knew the only reason that he wasn't currently listed as a felon in the Kanto region was the rational voice of Misty, who disliked violence in any form.
"Physically and emotionally. Like I said, I do not ever want to become like him. I could not—I will not—ever do that to Misty." Ash unclenched his fists, realizing that Misty had her arm around him. And I believe it is time I had a little talk with Gary Oak, Ash thought, letting Misty's touch release the tension within him.
**
Leaving the appointment several minutes later, Misty felt lighter again, like a burden was lifted from her shoulders. Unburdening her innermost thoughts, her soul, to a stranger was surprisingly easier than she thought it would be. She usually wrote what or how she felt in her journal, which by now had grown to several volumes. Having kept a journal since she was eleven years old, Misty felt comfortable writing down her feelings and then occasionally revisiting those same emotions—love, hate, anger, jealousy, fear—but from a newer and often more understanding perspective.
Misty smiled, remembering the blue cloth-covered journal she had kept at age twelve. Brock, who was tired of listening to her and Ash argue about nothing, had taken a semi permanent marker and written "Misty loves Ash" in large block letters on the back cover of her journal and then left it out atop her backpack. Ash and Pikachu had looked at her strangely as she frantically wiped the book with the corner of her shirt. Brock had only smiled and winked at her. Why can't life be simple anymore? She thought.
Three weeks and several sessions later, the subject came up: Ash and Misty's sex life. Misty dreaded this conversation, and Ash probably would have been more comfortable in a den of Arboks.
"Well, this was one of your complaints, Ash." Misty said. "What exactly is the problem, anyway?" The sooner we get this over with, the better. Which has been my attitude towards sex lately, Misty admitted.
"It's just that—Misty, you don't seem to enjoy lovemaking anymore. And that comment you made about me being 'man enough' for you—" Ash stopped speaking and looked at the ground.
"Ash, I already apologized for what I said at the Center." Misty sighed. "Look, here's what I think the problem is: you work hard all week and so do I. You have your down time on the computer. Meanwhile, I clean the house, cook the meals, and take care of our kids. You basically ignore me all week and then on Saturday night, you want a willing and ready partner." Misty's voice was on the verge of breaking. "Is that all I am to you anymore, Ash? Just a warm body for you to use to satisfy your passions? Because that is how I feel sometimes."
"No! My God, Misty, how can you think that?" Ash appeared shocked at her words. "I haven't been on the computer that much lately. I haven't been ignoring you. Misty, it just seems like—I don't know." Ash took a breath before continuing. "Misty, I have tried. Really. I have done everything I can think of to make sex pleasurable for you and for me. Misty, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. But I can't satisfy you. Do you know how I feel when I reach for you and you freeze like that? I feel like a failure: as a husband, as a man, and as your lover." Ash swallowed hard.
"You know," Dr. Berringer interjected, "Much frigidity in wives is due to husbands who are ignorant of a woman's physical and emotional makeup." Misty sat up straight at the mention of the word 'frigid'—it simply wasn't how she perceived herself to be.
"Misty, is anything wrong?" Ash's voice seemed to startle her. She seemed on the verge of tears.
"He grabbed me from behind—what, I'm sorry. Did you say something?" Misty had been speaking out loud without realizing it. Now she had Ash's and the doctor's full attention.
"Who grabbed you from behind?"
Misty wasn't sure who asked the question, but fear crept into her voice as she answered. "Greg did. Greg, my sister's boyfriend. We all went to the beach one day and I was in the water swimming. And Greg—I guess he wanted to scare me—came up behind me and pulled on my foot. He pulled me very close to him. I didn't like it but I didn't say anything. He, um, started running his hands up and down my legs, across my back—" The dam burst and Misty began crying. "Between my thighs. Finally, I kicked him in the stomach and swam away. You know, it's funny," Misty continued as Ash pulled her into a hug and began stroking her hair, "This happened so long ago, yet sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see Greg's smirking face like it was yesterday."
"How old was Greg when this incident happened?" Dr. Berringer asked.
"Nineteen, maybe twenty." Misty replied while wiping her eyes.
"And how old were you, Misty?" He continued softly.
"I was seven years old." Misty's voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry. It's just that—and it's not that I don't trust men, I do—it's just that physical contact is hard for me. Sometimes when Ash touches me, I don't see him, I see Greg's face. I become so—frightened. It's not Ash's fault. I'm so sorry, Ash…" Ash murmured, I understand, as Misty continued crying into his shoulder.
"Mist, it's okay. He can't hurt you." Ash continued stroking her hair. Misty visibly relaxed in her husband's arms as the tension melted away. How long have I been keeping that inside me? I never told Ash this.
"Mist, why haven't I been told about this before?" Ash cradled her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. His expression was tender.
"I don't know, Ash. I mean, how exactly do you bring a subject like this into polite conversation? "Oh, by the way, I was assaulted when I was seven years old.' You can't just blurt it out! I tried to blot it out of my memory but apparently it's still there. I'm sorry, Ash. I guess it's my fault that we've been having problems in bed…"
"Misty, it is not your fault. Do you understand? It is not your fault." Ash wiped a tear from her cheek, and she nodded.
"Ash, Misty, I know this is a difficult subject for both of you. What is sex, anyway? Is it a mere biologic function or a source of pleasure? More importantly, how do you view it? These are some questions I would like for you both to think about before we see each other again." Dr Berringer said, ending the session, much to Misty's relief. As they left the doctor's office, Misty noticed a photograph of a girl in Ash's wallet. But they hadn't had any portraits of Alexandra taken lately. Misty made a mental note to ask Ash about it later when they got home.
**
Ash was helping Alexandra clean her room when he noticed Misty standing in the doorway holding his wallet. She was smiling.
"Ash, do you love me?" She asked softly.
"Of course I do. I married you, didn't I? I support you, don't I? I wouldn't do that if I didn't love you." Ash was smiling now, watching Misty. She removed a small photograph from his wallet.
"What's this, then?"
The photograph showed a girl who looked remarkably like Alexandra, with reddish hair pulled into a sideways ponytail. The little girl was about four years old and was playing a tambourine, laughing. Ash moved closer to Misty and looked at the photograph. Ash took the photo in his hands and said, "I cherish this little girl." Then he took Misty's face in both his hands and said, "I cherish what she became, too." Then Ash kissed Misty very tenderly. When they separated, Misty had tears in her eyes.
***
With Ash and the kids at Delia's house this weekend, Misty knew she could get more studying done but she was becoming less tolerant of the silence. Their relationship was improving slowly but Ash had asked for more time to think, and she had reluctantly agreed. Calling Tracey and hearing a friendly voice made her feel better, but it was a poor substitute for having her family—her entire family—home with her. Then Misty noticed a blinking red light on the answering machine. Playing back the entire message, she heard Gary Oak's nasal voice asking Ash to contact him regarding some rumors circulating around town. She immediately called Ash at Delia's and relayed the message.
"What do you think is going on, Ash?" Misty asked.
"I don't know. But I will find out today. Do you want to talk to the kids?"
"Yeah. How's Andrew?" Misty asked before hearing her son's voice.
"Mommy? Are you okay?" Andrew's voice warmed her entire body.
"Mommy's fine, sweetie. And how are you?"
"Good."
"Be good for Grandma and Daddy okay?"
"I will. Mommy, are you alone?" The question surprised her at first.
"Yes." Misty replied.
"Because if you're scared, I can come home and stay with you. Me and Caterpie can protect you!"
Misty laughed silently. Don't worry about that, Andrew. Gyarados, Starmie, Seadra, Togepi, and Dragonite can handle that. "No, sweetie. I'm fine. Really." She was sure Andrew could hear her smile come through in her voice. "Is Alexandra there, Andrew?"
"She's playing with Caterpie right now. She says hello." Misty could hear Alexandra's voice in the background, along with Caterpie's contented purring. Then Ash came back on the line.
"Mist? Still there?"
"Yeah. Look, go call Gary. I'm going to study for a while."
"Okay. Talk to you later."
***
Ash took the cordless telephone into his room, figuring he'd be using a few four-letter words in his conversation with Gary, and decided that privacy was best in this situation. Ash shook his head, thinking about his tumultuous relationship with the Pallet Town Gym Leader. From his earliest remembrance, Gary had been his best friend. They they'd started their Pokemon journeys the same day and everything changed. Friendship became rivalry, which in turn became bitter rivalry, which again morphed into a grudging respect they had for each other in adulthood.
"Pallet Town Gym, may I help you?" Ash recognized the secretary's shrill voice immediately.
"Gary Oak, please. This is Pokemon Master Ash Ketchum."
"One moment, please."
A few seconds passed. He probably enjoys keeping me on hold, Ash thought. Then Gary's nasal voice came on the line. "This is Gym Leader Gary Oak."
"Gary? Ash. I'm returning your call."
"Oh, yeah. Now I remember…" Gary trailed off.
"What's this I hear about rumors, Gary?" Ash asked impatiently.
"It's not exactly rumors, Ash. It's—well, there's this article that this reporter is writing and it's a profile of you."
"How do you know this, Gary?" Ash rubbed his temple.
"Let's just say I have connections."
"Fine." Ash's voice hardened. "You have connections. Yes, the Pokemon League magazine is doing a profile of me for next month's issue. They do this every year. What's the deal?"
"Well, Ash, the deal is that this reporter happened to get an anonymous tip about you and Misty having, well, difficulties at home. And I know that this is none of my business—"
"And you would be right."
"But Ash, think about it for a minute. Everyone knows you as a family man. You have this, uh, image of having the perfect family. What if they knew you were currently living with your mother and not your wife? And that you and Misty were on the verge of a divorce?" Gary's voice was maddeningly calm.
Ash felt his face flush in anger. "Gary, exactly how would anyone know what I do with my personal time, especially a reporter?"
"Good reporters never reveal their sources, Ash. And anonymous tips can't be traced. Look, I know the reporter who's assigned to do this profile. I could maybe—persuade—them not to include these unfounded rumors in the profile. I know how damaging that could be to the League and to your reputation as the perfect family man." It was Gary's emphasis on the words 'perfect' and 'reputation' that made Ash suddenly aware of Misty's words at the doctor's office: "When did you see Gary?" "Here, after my last appointment, Ash." And what exactly was Gary doing there? Ash wondered.
"Of course," Gary continued, "I'd be doing this as a favor to you. And in return, I'd ask a favor of you as well."
"And that would be what, exactly, Gary?"
"Let me be your next challenger, Ash. We both know I'm most qualified to challenge you."
"For the title of Pokemon Master, Gary?" Sarcasm seeped into Ash's voice.
"For everything, Ashy-boy."
Implicit in Gary's final words was a common threat used by schoolyard bullies everywhere: do as I say or I'll hurt you. Ash recognized this and almost immediately began planning his strategy.
"Fine, Gary. You want to challenge me? Then go back to Indigo Plateau and don't let Lance kick your ass like he did the last time."
"Ash, haven't you heard anything I said—" Gary replied.
"I heard every word crystal clear, Gary." Ash's voice became icy cold. "And you know as well as I do that Pokemon aren't to be used in personal battles. And you just made this very personal. League rules prevent me from accepting a challenge from anyone who hasn't beaten all of the Elite Four, which you haven't, Gary. And I will not jeopardize my title my title for an egomaniac like you."
"Thinking of what's in your best interest instead of what's in your family's best interest, Ash?"
"What's in my family's best interest would be for you to stay as far away from them as possible, Gary. Misty and I are not getting a divorce. Period." Ash, knowing his anger would probably cause him to say something he would later regret, hung up the telephone. So Gary is planning to what—blackmail—me for the title? Ash sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I hope I don't have too much to do today. Because I need to begin strategizing.
"Melissa?" Ash rang his secretary on the intercom. "Can you tell me who is interviewing me next month?"
"Uh, let's see…it's a reporter named Patricia Sheridan." Melissa replied.
"Patricia Sheridan. Thanks, Melissa." Ash replied.
Ash turned on his computer and navigated through several menus before finding the photograph gallery archived inside. Ash stared at the screen as a photograph taken many years ago of Gary Oak at the Pokemon League Games came up. And what made Ash sit perfectly straight in his chair was the headshot of one of Gary's cheerleaders in the background. Ash stared at the photograph for several seconds before allowing a smile to cross his face. I know exactly what I am going to do.
***
Misty was reheating a plate of spaghetti bolognaise when she heard a car pull into the driveway. Looking outside through the living room window, she saw Andrew and Alexandra getting out of Ash's blue Camry. Ash was carrying their suitcases. They flew into the house and tackled Misty's legs.
"Mommy!!"
"Hi, guys. How are you?" Misty hugged and kissed her children.
"Fine. Daddy's back, too!" Andrew said excitedly.
Misty looked puzzled. She left the kids in the living room and walked to the porch. Ash was pulling a gray duffel bag from the trunk of the car. A larger suitcase sat next to the car. Alexandra wandered out of the house and joined Misty on the porch.
"What's going on? What's Daddy doing with all that stuff?" Alexandra asked as Misty scooped her into her arms.
"Daddy's home." Misty replied happily. The late summer air was becoming cooler but for some reason, Misty didn't notice.
To be continued….