*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*
Chapter Eighth: Bleak House
Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe
*~*
Author's Note: Ah, dear Marie. I'm sorry if I wasn't up to par with the battling scenes. I know, I too realized that they were amazingly short. Maybe I shouldn't have stress how extremely outmatched he was for the sake of the reader's enjoyment. The next will be longer, I promise. So, with that said and done...enjoy! —The Duke of Briarcliffe
*~*
"Problems do not go away. They must be worked through or else they remain,
forever a barrier to the growth and development of the spirit."
—M. Scott Peck, M.D. , American Psychiatrist, Author
*~*
Weary From A Hectic Night at the Cheapside Pokémon Center, Imagen Purposefully Marched along Giorgio Avenue to her intended destination. The streetlights had just flickered on and seemed to illuminate the sidewalk, making her feel as if they were made just for her. Her bearing was purposeful and proud, she'd never let any weakness show by having a downcast face. No, not Imagen. That image of posterity was something that had to be well maintained; it was a dire necessity; her guard could never be let down.
The prospect of returning to a warm home was well thought of. If only her daydream could have been a reality. The apartment was in a total state of dishabille. Boxes and little cans were strewn across the floor. A fine, film of dust seemed to have glazed over every surface imaginable. And the house reeked of elderly people. Yet, it was all so very familiar.
"Hey little man," Imagen said sweetly as she scooped the little toddler up from the cluttered floor. He stuck his thumb in his mouth in content at having seen his benefactress once again. How could anything so cherubic have wreaked so much havoc on the household? Imagen wondered about this herself, however, she knew that he was just a child and that he hardly knew any better.
"Gah!" he cheered as he waved his arms to and fro. A toothy smile was displayed on his pudgy face. The collar of his shirt was damp with saliva, and his curly brown hair was unruly and tangled. There's no keeping a child looking presentable for the entire day.
"Hungry?" she asked as she went back outside to fetch the mail from the transporter box next to the door. Bills, bills, and more bills. It was a good thing that she got paid today, on both jobs.
She glided into the living room where her grandparents sat. Her grandmother purled absently at a skein of pink yarn with her knitting needle. She had a far-off look in her eye as she rocked in her chair. The drone of a TV was heard. Her grandfather was skimming over some old text—Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.
"¿Qué, ningún saludo para nosotros?" asked her grandmother in a thick, Hispanic accent. Her tone was less than enthusiastic, more morbid than anything: as if she could care less whether she had or she had not.
"Buena tarde, abuela. Bonsoir, grand-père. ¿Cómo era su día? Allait-il comment votre jour?"
Blank stares.
"La casa necesita ser limpiada. Los pisos necesitan ser barridos. Las cuentas necesitan ser pagadas. La cena necesita ser hecha. El muchacho necesita ser lavado. Y nuestras ropas necesitan ser planchadas."
Imagen just looked at them for a moment. There was no love in this bleak house, just the love she felt for James and even his couldn't be confirmed. She charged onwards to her bedroom, one of the only decent rooms in the entire apartment, and shrugged off her tote-bag/purse and kicked off her sneakers. Then, slipping into her worn ballerina slippers, she tied her abundant hair into a knot before slipping into some sweats.
The work wasn't that dreadful. She'd done it so much in her time here that it was a routine. It only took her an hour to do the housecleaning and another hour for the cooking. On Fridays, her grandma refused to eat anything but enchiladas with diced tomatoes. A pitcher of strawberry lemonade was mandatory. She skipped dinner in order to prepare James for bedtime and to give him his dinner. Finally, at about midnight, she finally had some time for herself. She used the allotted time to eat her repast and to soak in a lavender and chamomile bath that was soothing to her somnolent body.
The cordless phone chimed its endless tune and Imagen was compelled to answer it by the gruff voice of her grandmother. She pressed the talk button. "Hello?"
"Hey Jen," Aerin chirped from her own phone.
"Hey, what's up?" Imagen asked as she began to drain the water from the bathtub—her private bathtub. With a scratchy towel she dabbed her wet skin and began to oil her body with something from Bath & Body Works, one of her few luxuries.
"Oh nothing," she replied. "I just got home from the Gym. I was buried in paperwork."
"Yeah, you did have a lot of challengers today."
"Yeah. I beat all of them."
"That's great," Imagine said.
"Your sarcasm ceases to amaze me, Jen."
She grinned light-heartedly.
"So," Imagen began as she began to blow-dry her hair until the mass of tendrils were blown bone-straight. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and to the middle of her bronzed back. "What's up with you and Prep Boy?"
"Prep boy? Oh! You must mean Duncan? Nothing's up with us." She paused before saying, "whatever gave you that idea?"
"Just a hunch," Imagen answered as she began to profusely comb her hair. "Stop trying to play me, Aerin. You're a sad-ass liar. Believe me, I know that you like him; but I don't understand why you like him. He has got to be the most annoying bastard in Celadon. James is more interesting than him."
"How is James?"
Imagen looked through the crack of bathroom door and into the dimly-lit bedroom. James lay curled in a fetal position smack-dab in the middle of her bed. His thumb gingerly placed in his mouth as he sucked on it in content. "He's fine. He's over there sucking on his thumb again. I have to break him out of that."
"It'll stop in time."
A moment of silence passed.
"How's David and Erika? Are they doing fine?"
"Yeah, David and Mom are doing fine. Mom's been sick for a few days so I've had to do the physical and the study-based training. Those little kids were so horrible. This one kid released a Paras and made him use stun spore. It wore everyone out. I'm still worn out."
"Guess that's how it is when you're the Leader and everything. By the way...you never answered my question. What do you see in him?"
"Fine," she exasperatedly groaned. "If you just have to know—"
"Don't try to use that psychological stuff on me."
Aerin grinned. "Well—(her voice was a little high there)—you can't deny that he is good-looking."
"I think that I can. I know that I can. As a matter of fact, I am."
"And he knows a lot about grass pokémon. Mom tells me that he always knows the answers to her questions in class."
"That's because he's a show off."
Aerin grunted. "And he's nice...funny, even."
"He has got to have the worst sense of humor in the world."
"Imagen, it sounds to me that someone's a bit of a hater."
"And who might that be? I just don't like the guy. I get weird vibes about him. And I don't like the way he walks into the room and goes about things. He has the most smug expression on his face. I just feel like taking his head and slamming it into a wall."
"That's a bit much, don't you think?"
"That's how he makes me feel." She then walked into her bedroom and pulled back the covers so that she could tuck James in. He looked cold. Besides, it was her instincts to do so.
"You know how he makes me feel." She sighed in content. "Sometimes I feel jittery inside."
"Damn, you barely even communicate with him. If telling him stuff about pokémon is actual flirting, then what has this world come to?
"(Sighing, she went on) You know, as much as I dislike him—and that's a lot—if, you like him, then I guess it's my duty as a friend to guide you in the right direction and to accept your decision. But, I think that you can do something more profitable than dating him."
"Thanks for practically contradicting yourself."
"Practically being the key word. I don't know why, but for some reason, I get the weird feeling that he thinks that he's some sort of player. And I do not want to get you hurt. You're my girl. Besides, James cries enough."
"That's very heartwarming. Awe, I think I feel a tear in my eye."
"Ha ha, very funny, Aerin."
"I'm going to try and be more...I don't know—less...job-orientated?"
"If you say so. I'll be the faithful observer that I always am. But, of all things if you do wind up together, do not propose any double dates or anything. I don't want to have to deal with him any more than I already do."
"Fine, fine."
Imagen hear a raspy voice from outside her door yelling, "Imagen, viens-ici: à la salle de bains! J'ai besoin de l'assistance!" And she knew exactly what that meant. "Aerin, I have to go. See you later. Bye."
"Imagen, is—?"
But she'd already turned off the phone.
*~*
The next day, Aerin decided that it was a good time for the trainer's, as well as their pokémon, to get into peak physical shape. Naturally, Duncan agreed with her, for he hadn't worked out in a while and, in order to remain as a good figure of eye candy, it was necessary. Therefore, he brought a suitable pair of work-out clothes, a beater and some nylon shorts, to the locker room. There was a large girls locker room, however, because of the shortage of male testosterone, he had to resort to changing in the lavatory.
While in the lavatory, he met up with Aerin's older brother, David, who also was going utilize the equipment. Duncan hadn't really met him before, so now he took the chance to introduce himself—I won't get into the minor details of the introduction for there was nothing unique about this particular one.
With Boomer's necklace fastened around his neck, Duncan strode into the large room that was chock-jam-packed with the most advanced equipment. Fitness was a big priority in the Celadon Gym, which surprised him because it was mainly run by girls and well...he wasn't used to them being so devoted to it.
All the girls were clad in either spandex or something of a similar nature, much to Duncan's enjoyment. There are benefits in being the only guy after all. What a great view! They were doing squats and all sorts of things that made him forget where he was, and what he was supposed to be doing.
He released Boomer from his pokéball. Then, immediately afterwards Boomer brushed up against and positively beamed at being in a room with so many humans and pokémon.
"[Ooh. Me so happy to be here!]" he darted to the other side of the room and back, not winded at all. He was obviously energetic. He was practically bouncing all over the place.
Duncan couldn't help but to grin to himself as he moved himself to the chin-up machine and began to use it to his advantage. It was kind of exasperating, considering his absence, but he didn't let it show. There was a bevy of women around him! How could he?
"[Ooh! Look Duncie! Me so strong,]" he informed him as he went over to a stack of weights and pulled up and fifty-pound one with relative ease. Duncan was impressed.
"That's really good, Boomer. Here, try a hundred!" Duncan grasped the weight with one arm and held it so that Boomer could maneuver his vines through the middle ring and wrap them around the sides. Boomer did as expected and, with a loud grunt, raised the weight high above his head.
"Good job!"
But Boomer was looking a bit, red. His eyelids were rapidly blinking and Duncan believed that the slight projection on the surface of his skin could have possible been a vein. This was when he got worried. His body went tense as a crowd of pokémon watched the feat that he was performing.
"[Look...a...piece...of—ah!]" he squealed he fell exactly sideways, which set off a train reaction. The weight that he'd been holding got flung into the stack of other weights, thus creating an avalanche that clipped every pokémon, and Duncan, in the legs, thus tossing them up in the air. A few of the girls shrieked as they jetted out of the room and Duncan was left with more than just a sore ass. Boomer, along with all the other pokémon, had swirls in the eyes and was dazed.
As if the moment could possibly get any worse, that was the time that Imagen and Aerin decided to stroll into the room. They gawked at the damage. Imagen shook her head in disapproval. "I told you! Now look at this mess."
Aerin was clearly embarrassed of the fiasco, and of the fact that Imagen was partially right in assuming that he was untrustworthy. "There must be a clear explanation for all of this."
"Yeah, the dumb-ass over there made all of this happen," she countered. "That's the wimpy way out. Be authoritative." When she saw that her friend was engulfed admiring her crush's crushed expression, Imagen bit out, "Do something!"
"What happened?"
Now there's progress, Imagen said as she dropped her head into her hands.
There was no way he could possibly lie about this. He was about to explain what happened when David came back into the room and spoke up, "It's my fault. My Tangela was lifting weights but slipped up and, to make things short, all of this happened. Duncan just got caught in it. He was a bit too slow."
Aerin dubiously looked from her brother to Duncan and couldn't decide who to believe. "Well, who's going to clean it up?"
"I'll do it," Duncan volunteered. He was feeling a bit guilty of it all and he couldn't just let David do all of this alone. He had to thank him.
"Yeah, Duncan can do it," Imagen added. "Because, I think that he—"
David gave her the death glare, which made her plant her hands on her hips and roll her eyes at him. She didn't know where he got off defending someone that he didn't know. It was enough to make her want to scream.
"I'll help," David told his sister. He walked back a few paces. "Come on Beechcombe, we can be done in about a half on an hour." And so they worked until every weight was in its rightful place. David explained that he did it out of male compassion.
"[Duncie,]" Boomer said as he inched closer to him. "[Me sorry for making big mess. Don't be mad at me. Please?]" Naturally, Duncan didn't comprehend, but isn't the puppy eyes and innocent voice a universal gesture?
"It's all right. Nobody got—well, nobody was seriously injured."
"[Yahoo!]" Boomer jumped up and down and twisted while in the air till he passed out from the exertion. "[Pabola!]"
"[Parabola,]" she corrected. "[What is it, kid?]"
"[Duncie not mad at me! Me happy!]"
Parabola smiled.
"[Wee. Me feel strong. Me lift weights again.]"
When Duncan saw Boomer approaching the neatly-stacked dumbbells, he literally jumped from his seat and pounced on him before he lifted his vines. "I'll buy some and we can practice at home."
"[Okay!]"
From afar, Imagen surveyed the entire scene. He was never so affectionate with Nasturtium. But, then again, she wouldn't allow him to be. But that wasn' the point! Her absence was a mystery to her and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. However, there was no way for her to pry the information from Duncan. As she rode out her frustrations on the stationary bike, Buster lifting a seventy-five pound weight over his head, she looked to all the possible explanations. However, her pensive mood was broken when she saw Aerin shyly sidle up to Duncan who, much to her disgust, was being looked on by a horde of females as he bench-pressed his weight.
"Look at him!"
"He has the best chest that I've ever seen."
"Break me off a piece of that."
"He can come home with me anytime."
"Oh my God! Is that his—"
And what made things worse was that he was reveling in the attention. He had even packed on more weight to show his durability. Although he was outwardly stable, his body was on fire. When he saw Aerin approaching him, he gratefully placed the bar on the rack.
"Hey Aerin," he greeted her, flashing his most brilliant smile.
Her insides immediately turned into a goopy mush and felt like dying, as sappy as that might found. "Hi," was the only thing that she could manage to get out and even then, her voice was a bit shaky. Her ears started to tingle and she new she was getting redder by the second. Luckily, to her anyways, Duncan didn't seem to have noticed.
"Are you finished working out?"
She nodded her assent as she unconsciously looked down at herself. She was sweaty and she knew that she needed a shower. Her hair was plastered to her forehead because she'd exercised so intensely. And her conservative shorts and loose t-shirt did everything but make her the least bit attractive. Why did she have to look so unappealing?
"Yeah, me and Boomer are too," Duncan said. Speaking to her was a bit awkward, he had to admit. She was so much better than he was in so many areas and she was in a way, intimidating, but not in the sense that Imagen was. Intimidating as in he knew that in a match, he'd be annihilated. He had observed that—he'd watched five matches by now—Fabienne was hard enough: Aerin hardly ever resorted to using Parabola.
Aerin couldn't help but look back towards Imagen, whom offered little support but the roll of her eyes and the gesture that meant, "well, go on!" "Duncan... (giggling) this is really weird for me. Probably for you as well. But...(he smiled, knowing exactly what was about to ensue) I have two tickets to go see the Nutcracker Suite on Sunday and I would really like it if...uh...you came with me. I know that you're probably like, 'what? The Nutcracker Suite? Who does she think I am? Is she trying to say that I am—I have nothing against it by the way—gay?' And I would completely understand it if you were offended by it. But—"
Laughing he said, "I'll go. Don't worry about it. I like ballets and operas." This wasn't the first time that a girl had asked him out and he was sure that it wouldn't be the last. He had nothing better to do.
She exhaled, haven't taking a breath of fresh air in whatt seemed like hours. "Perfect. It starts at eight o' clock and it's at the Vintage Philharmonic Orchestra Theater. We'll have to use the subway and get a cab though."
"That's fine with me. Where should we meet?"
"At the corner of First Street and Cool Water Avenue."
"So, I'll see you then." Duncan lifted himself from the equipment and beckoned to Boomer who, consequently, came scampering about.
"[Look what I can do! Look what I can do!]" he boomed. With Duncan and Aerin's attention, he swiveled the leaf and three razor sharp leaves became stuck in the ceiling that was just repainted not two months ago. He cringed, "[oops!]"
Aerin and Duncan looked at each other and grinned.
*~*
"Come on, Imagen! Wait up! I have to talk with you," Duncan cried as he jogged up to her as she glided across the sidewalk. She'd really gotten out of the Gym in a hurry.
"What do you want?" she scoffed.
"Why are you in such a hurry? It's a beautiful night. Don't you want to just take it all in?"
"Not with you. Seriously, Duncan, you smell like pure ass; and I am not kidding. Go take a shower;" she shook her head as she said this.
Duncan instinctively sniffed under his arm to see if what she was telling him was the truth. He was a bit..ripe. "That's minor."
"As if this conversation is anything but minor. I really don't feel like talking to you right now. I have things to do and people to see." She rounded a corner right then, but he chose to follow her.
"Don't you mean it the other way around?"
"You're such an asshole," she seethed, quickening her pace even more.
But he matched her. Her legs might be long but his were longer, so it wasn't that difficult. "Takes one to know one."
"Is it me or did you just sound like a preschooler?"
"That's a rhetorical answer, meaning that it doesn't need an answer."
"Then my suspicicions have just been confirmed."
Just before she went to turn yet another corner, he swiftly blocked her way with a solid forearm. "I hate it when people ignore me like this. Just hear me out, for once." She stopped and pouted her lips and tapped her foot impatiently.
"I know what you're trying to do to Aerin. You're just going with her because you want to take advantage of her. Well, if it's up to me, I'm not going to let it happen, because she's my best friend. And I don't want to see her get hurt, not if it can be prevented. So set your sights elsewhere!"
"It's not up to you; it's completely her decision. Besides, you're not a mindreader. You don't know what my intentions are. It is possible for me to like her, you know."
"What I do know is how men think. And I don't want her to be a victim, all right."
"How would you know anything about men?"
"I don't to tell you a god damn thing! You aren't even worth that!" She poked him on the chest. Then, stamping her foot, she yelled, "Would you please get the hell out of my way? I have a bus to catch!"
He stepped over to the side.
"Thank you!"
And he watched her as her retreating figure advanced further and further down the street...
*~*
Concluding Statements: Well, what did you think? Tensions are rising and people are going on edge. I liked delving into Imagen's character. She's one of my favorites. I love writing arguments as you can very well see. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review! Lol, I used BabelFish for the translations of Spanish and part of the French, so bear with me. Go to http://www.altavista.com if you need help!—The Duke of Briarcliffe