"Mmm another night of rewarmed curry" I tried to sound enthusiastic as I punched the microwave timer. Scoria, my lycanroc, wagged her tail slightly to acknowledge the promised meal. Her food dish was empty, probably licked clean within the first ten minutes of my leaving that morning for work.
"TGIF, right? Great job on going six days without a neighbor complaint." I ruffled her ears playfully. Notoriously hard to train and tame, I had her since she was just a small rockruff adopted my first summer working on my grandfather's farm. At eleven most children take the summer to go on an adventure learning how to tame and train wild Pokemon; instead, I have been sent to learn how to sheer wooloos and mareeps.
My summers had shaped into a boring and predictable life with my official schooling leading into the expected career line. Sure I could have pursued working as a medic at a pokecenter, or sheriff (even if my name wasn't Joy), but I had chosen a technical route. My dreams of working in one of the highrise buildings in the city crumbled to just a multistory office building where I took incoming customer service calls for Macro Cosmos. A tedious job that paid for my tiny studio apartment with my canterkous neighbors who enjoyed complaining about Scoria and her occasional howling during a full moon; forcing me to keep her in her Pokeball at night instead of having her to snuggle with at night. The incessant squeal of the microwave timer yanked me out of my petulant thoughts. The smell of curry, rich and savory, was enough to set both our stomachs to growling. Impatient Scoria had started tiny half-mute howls in her attempt to hurry me along.
"Hot, hot hot hot.." The glass bowl had absorbed most of the heat and worked on singing my hands as I adjusted my hold, using a kitchen towel to provide some buffer between the heated material and my fingertips. Looking at the half-cooked and half-congealed gravy I wondered how technology had come so far and yet could not reheat the food in one consistent temperature.
'Oww.. owoo' Scoria's muted howl indicated her patience wasn't going to last much longer. The tail wags had ended and those normally soulful blue eyes were focused on the curry dish in front of me.
"Let me stir it, unless you like half cold food." After eighteen years I didn't feel silly talking to my pokemon. She seemed to understand the basics of what I was saying and we had developed a little routine between the two of us. At my comment she ran to her bowl, turning herself in a circle three times before promptly sitting and looking pointedly between me and her empty bowl.
"Don't look at me like that. It was full of kibble before I left this morning; it isn't my fault you eat your feelings." Just as I managed to stir the gravy into a consistent, just barely over lukewarm, temperature my rice cooker sang its happy song. Dinner at last for the both of us.
I dished my bowl first, before filling Scoria's bowl. Together we sat down for our midweek meal with my mindless channel surfing on the television. A couple of cooking shows, the weather channel, and finally a mindless drama series. Good enough; I leaned back against the back of my couch that doubled as a bed and began eating my dinner. Only to be interrupted by my phone ringing. The temptation was there to just let it go to voicemail and finish my meal and show in peace. The call ended, then started ringing again indicating whoever was calling wanted my attention now. Cursing inconsiderate coworkers I put my bowl to one side to walk back into the kitchen area where my phone sat charging.
"Don't even think about stealing my food. I will put you back in the ball if you do." The threat wasn't idle; pokeballs were the best time-out tool for trainers and Scoria hated being confined in hers. Usually, I didn't have to go through with the threat as just the mention of it had my lycanroc behaving herself.
"Hello?" My tone was at its least friendly. I hadn't bothered to check my caller I.D since usually it was a coworker or manager asking me to pick up an extra shift the next day. Unmarried, with no other engagements, I was high on the availability list. I didn't get an answer, just the sound of sobbing. Confused I pulled the phone from my ear to check the caller ID. It was my mom; who never called midweek and never past 9.
"Mom? Are you ok?" Worst-case scenarios raced through my head. They all varied between my father being injured and my mother having some sort of emotional breakdown. Nothing prepared me for her broken reply.
"Your grandpa passed away today." My stomach sank. It had been over three years since I had visited in person, sending the obligatory birthday cards and holiday presents but I had failed to go out and physically visit; claiming I was too busy with work or didn't have time off- both were partially true.
"Oh.." I couldn't find the words needed. Grief and shock warred with each other leaving me simply numb. "How?" The question escaped me as the next logical conclusion. Grandpa had always seemed larger than life and it never occured to me that he was getting old and eventually wouldn't be there.
"He got sick and just couldn't.. didn't get better." My mom's sobs had turned into little stifled sniffles as she attempted to compose herself. She took pride in that, always having her emotions under control, and I knew the loss of Grandpa was hitting her hard. "The funeral is next Wednesday if you could take the time off work."
"I will be there Mom. " Work would have to understand, or at least accept my time off request. I had three weeks banked away; having planned to spend a surprise visit at the farm and then my parents later in the summer. Guilt weighed heavily on my heart; a secret plan that was too little too late for my grandpa.
"It will be at the farm I am guessing?" It seemed the logical place. Grandpa had loved the family farm. It had been in the family for generations and those same generations were buried in a cemetery not too far from the farm. It seemed only logical his final resting place would be with my grandmother.
"Yes... We will see you then." Her voice seemed distracted and I knew she was going through her task list of things to organize before the funeral. What relatives needed to be called and what accommodations for all of us coming from out of town? Tasks were her armor against emotional turmoil and I envied her ability to compartmentalize.
"Do you need me to do anything?" Grandpa's pokemon would be devastated. The ones that he still had of course. Scoria's dame had died of old age the year past and while my companion was still going strong I knew she was aging in the way of most pokemon; just a bit faster than their human counterparts.
"No.. I will see you there. Love you, honey." The reply stung and reminded me I had been an absent family member for a while now. Just a voice on the phone and the occasional card or letter in the mailbox.
"Love you too Mom. " The phone went dead after our abbreviated goodbyes. Shocked and numb I sat down on the couch, not even caring that somehow my bowl was empty and suspiciously clean. Mutely I moved the dish to the ground before laying down on my side to stare at the television sightlessly shifting only enough to allow my pokemon to curl up next to me. Her delicately pointed muzzle burrowed under my arm and her curry-scented breath huffed in my face for a moment before she fell asleep.