Love Lost, Chapter 14a: Rotations.
#27 of Love Lost
Love Lost, Chapter 14a: Rotations.
Burner and Grace worked in the living room, operating a rented carpet steam cleaner. Joe sat at the kitchen table. So did James. In silence they sat for quite some time, as James let Joe sweat it out. Eventually, James leaned to his side and peered toward his living room. Grace straightened up, blushed, nodded, and faced away.
"Your thoughts?" James spoke with an uncharacteristically low volume.
Joe became alert and looked up from the table's surface. "What?"
James faintly cleared his throat. "Young man, I asked you for your thoughts."
"About what?"
"What do you think?" James flung his right arm toward the clean-up site. "This!"
Joe hoped to mitigate. "Oh, uh, I think it's good that after what happened, everyone is going to be okay."
James' brow furrowed--Joe realized that his was not a correct answer. "You think it's okay. One year ago, you asked me if it would be okay if you got one pokemon. Put yourself in my shoes: today, right now, your house has up to four pokemon in it at any point in time. Yesterday it was five and they brawled in your living room. There's broken glass over here, little pools of blood over there, and twice a door's been broken. Is this something you would say 'yes' to?" Grace cringed with anticipation as James shouted, "I asked you a question, young man; answer me!"
"No," Joe meekly admitted.
James' line-of-sight turned a little upward and to the left, directing it a bit above the refrigerator. "I shouldn't have caved. I knew this was going to be a disaster. I should have kept my foot down."
"I'm sorry, Dad. I really thought I could handle it. I mean, I've never heard of pokemon breaking into houses and attacking--"
James interjected with a stern correction. "She didn't break in, Joe. Burner let her in. And she didn't come to fight him, she came to fuck him." Joe's eyes went wide at both the revelation and the language. "That's right. Remember when I said that pokemon can get you involved with the wrong sort of people? Well, here's an example of one: an articuno with unlimited financial resources and unrestricted access to supposedly-confidential records wants your blaziken for stud service. It took your whole 'team' to stop her, and as Grace explained it, the ghost was the only one who actually showed any aptitude. What happens if Ivana comes back someday and Marianne decides to sit it out the second time?"
Joe could not think of a good defense strategy, and hoped a legal position might provide an out. "Can't we do anything about what she did? Isn't it against the law or something?"
"Burner let her in so it wasn't breaking-and-entering, and beyond that, the law doesn't like to get involved in matters between pokemon. Mister Well compensated us handsomely for the damage, which is more than we could've hoped for if we tried to file a suit with no witnesses and no hard evidence except for a sample of articuno blood."
"No witnesses? But, Dad, they all were there! They--"
James slapped the table with one palm and leaned inward for a moment. "They are not people, Joe. They are pokemon. I know the distinction has thinned during my lifetime, but legally they are still animals. Highly intelligent, yes. Possessing emotions, yes. Able to do many things we can do that no other animals can, and even do some things that we can't do, yes. But only because we take them into our lives and train them to be like us; program them to be like us. Born in the wild, they live and behave like what they are: animals. In a court of law, their testimony is heard only at the magistrate's pleasure."
Joe hung his head. "That doesn't seem fair."
"Life isn't fair, Joe. Life is a cut-throat. Life will find the things you think are the most secure and take them away from you. You have to be ready for that. As a trainer, your pokemon are your responsibility. You let them live outside of their balls when you are away. It's on your shoulders to make sure they're trained to fight well enough to defend themselves if needed, and not to make stupid mistakes that can put them, us, and this home into jeopardy. If they can't, you need to put them in their balls when you aren't using them."
"Using them? Dad, that sounds cruel."
"Who is being cruel here? You left your blaziken in a situation that, if it wasn't for a stroke of lucky timing and a lot of help, would have led to his being raped. Why did you do that to your pokemon, Joe?"
"I never would've thought something like that could happen."
"And what do you think now; now that you know that it can and has happened?"
Joe thought about the question for a moment. "Can I go talk to him in private?"
James approved with a sharp upward nod. Joe took Burner into his bedroom and shut his door behind them. Grace excused herself as she passed by the table at which James sat, apparently seeking different cleaning chemicals from a cabinet. She was unsure if making a comment would break the tension or heighten it.
"Any luck?" James asked as she drifted by a second time.
She turned about to face him, but could not make eye contact. "Uh, some, but I'm having trouble getting all of it to come out."
"Keep working on it. If I don't have to spend Simon's money on new carpet, I'd rather sock it away."
Grace nodded and returned to her work. Burner soon re-joined her while Joe took his seat again.
"Dad, Burner agreed to stay in his ball when I'm away."
James adjusted his posture and opened his mouth to speak, but did not as his son continued.
"But, I don't want to do that to him so I'm not going to, because he also said he learned from his mistakes, and won't let her or any other pokemon trick him that way again. You said it's my responsibility to make sure he can defend himself. He won't get stronger and smarter in his ball, so that would be giving up what he really needs so we can have some pretend safety that only works if someone like Ivana can't figure out another way to get ahold of him."
James leaned back and let his son endure a little more silence--at least, as much as the sound of spraying and scrubbing in the neighboring room would allow--before resuming the trial. "Okay, he thinks he has a plan to defend himself against the feminine wiles of an articuno with an infatuation spell. Is that plan going to work?"
Joe thought about it for a little bit, and glanced into the living room. Burner was about to move the steam cleaner into his room, but Grace got his attention when she sensed that Joe was looking for it. Despite his stature, Joe's blaziken looked weak, weary, wary, worried. It stared back at him, waiting intently for a sign of some sort. It stared with eyes that had stared into Joe's a few times before. Those times, Joe was often unsure exactly how to respond, but followed his gut and formed the word "impressive." That word did not apply right now. Burner broke their connection, turning away and losing a few centimeters of posture. Joe turned back to face his father, whose blank expression offered no mooring. He felt a brief and gentle pulse, surely Grace hoping to get a better idea of what was happening before the steam cleaner turned on again.
At least Joe could still follow his gut.
"I guess the only way to find out is to find out, right?" Joe left his seat without obtaining permission this time. He returned with his trainer's device and a business card. He slid the card through a slot in the device, adding its contact information to Joe's account information, and placed a call.
When it connected, "Mister Rainier," uttered a flat, youthful voice through the device's speaker, "are you ready to arrange an exchange?"
"No, Max--"
"Whatever permissions my employer may have implied notwithstanding, you will refer to me by my title and surname."
Joe glanced at his card to verify the expected appellation. "Okay, Mr. Syfax. I don't want to trade anybody. I want to challenge Mr. Well to a pokemon battle."
James could not help but plant his jaw in his left palm and brace his elbow against the table.
Maximilian's laughter made Joe's T.D.'s speaker crackle until it subsided for a breath. "Oh, wow, kid... you're serious, aren't you?"
"Uh, I'm pretty sure any trainer can challenge any other trainer he meets at least once, and the other trainer has to accept, schedule a match, or forfeit. Right?"
Maximilian was still laughing, but not so much that he could not speak. "That rule is for youngsters to keep them from chickening out all summer long. Hold on. I'll see if he's willing to entertain your demand to request his attention." A faint click preceded a stream of dull elevator music.
Joe looked at his father and at his T.D., and repeated that action. "You don't think this was a good idea, do you?"
"To be honest I'm not sure it isn't the dumbest thing I've seen you do." Joe's finger considered hanging up the call. "But, I didn't take my own advice about staying away from that man, either, so obviously my advice doesn't stick very well. You're in this now, you're going to see it through."
The music ended as a different voice interrupted. "Young master Rainier?"
"Yes, Mr. Well? I--I uh," Joe's bravado was too interrupted.
"I'm a very busy man; I don't have time to listen to you stammer a repeat of what you already told Maxie. I accept your challenge. This being Friday afternoon, have you shown adult responsibility by being sure you have time this weekend that is clear for our match and the travel associated with it?"
James' and Joe's eyebrows raised when Simon said "travel."
"This weekend?" Joe hesitated, "Well, I have a reading assignment and some math homework; that won't take more than a few hours each, though."
"Very well. You can complete your assignments during the ride."
"Ride?" James barked.
"Turn me about so I can see him," Simon said, prompting Joe to rotate his trainer's device. "I have already been to Rennin once this week, which is more times than I planned for. Since your son has no pressing obligations, it makes sense that he come to a venue of my convenience. He is challenging me, after all." James turned red in the face. "I assure you, you have nothing to fear for his comfort or safety. I have a controlling interest in the finest hotel in Sulmepride, and to speak plainly, nobody messes with Mr. Well or his guests anywhere in Ocimene."
James was still red. "I have no doubt you are in control of this situation."
Simon smiled. "I've made a career of that. Joe!" Joe rotated his T.D. again. "Given the inequity of our resources, I suppose it is only right to let you pick the format of our match, if you like."
"Yes, one-on-one, Burner against Ivana."
A distant squawk heralded the appearance of a blue feathered face and wide eyes above Mr. Well's shoulders, forcing his head aside slightly as it struggled to get a view of the screen.
"Really, now, is this a matter of revenge, Boy, or is this a strange way of reconsidering her proposition?"
"No! It's... it's a way that we can prove we won't be afraid of getting hurt when we aren't together to protect each other."
Ivana made a low sound. Simon asked Joe to hold for a moment. When he returned, Ivana was no longer in view. Simon began by clearing his throat. "I can assure you, Ivana's actions were very short-sighted and selfish, but not malicious. She did not come intending to hurt anyone, and was certainly not trying to make you fear for your safety. She is, however, somewhat frustrated and very emotional, and sometimes that gets the better of her. She is also a very powerful pokemon and often forgets her discretion when she fights. Knowing that, do you still want to challenge us?"
Joe pursed his lips a little. "Yes, sir."
Noises from the other room ended, and both Grace and Burner appeared on the border between kitchen and living space.
"Are you sure? She is willing--in fact, eager--to apologize to you personally for what she did. I can send her, or bring you all here if that--"
"Mister Well," Joe looked into Burner's eyes once again, "we will accept her apology, but we want to fight. Even if we are going to lose, again, we're going to face this problem, and we're going to go home knowing we did our best, or how we can do better."
"Hold."
Grace looked between all three of the males surrounding her. Their emotional melange was distinctly mottled.
The hold music ended abruptly again. "Pack for two nights, a car will arrive at nineteen-hundred exactly. I will accommodate per diem for you and for Burner. Bring no other pokemon."
Joe glanced up at Grace, whose gills flared at her exclusion. "Okay, Mister Well."
"Please, call me Simon, and don't make my driver wait." Joe's T.D. announced the call's conclusion. He set it down on the table and looked around. Burner stood tall again, but was clearly surprised. Grace's mind was half spinning through predictions of how a head-to-head arena match between Burner and Ivana could go, and the other half considering that she was going to be out of contact with Joe for a few days, which was truly something strange and unfamiliar to her lifestyle.
James slid his chair away from his breakfast table and stood slowly with a mock deliberate motion. "Congratulations, Trainer. Your journey begins."
Grace helped Joe to pack and once that was done they lay together and read through over half of his reading assignment, until James summoned them to help prepare dinner and dine upon it. Joe read a little faster, and remembered more, when she aided him by generating a sensory experience from the fragments that an imagination bored with its task was willing to provide. At eighteen-fifty-nine, a limousine stopped on the far side of the street. Grace reluctantly said her goodbye, while James saw Joe off with a handshake that turned into something like a hug.
The car's driver opened a door for Joe as he and Burner approached. "Please recall your pokemon, Sir. Regulations."
Joe nodded and Burner assented. Inside, Joe found the car to be as conservative in styling as it was luxurious. The driver's voice announced, "Forgive my vulgarity, but did you remember to go before you leave?"
Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeees."
"Then our journey to Manse DeWell will be non-stop. Help yourself to the snacks and refreshments provided at your leisure. I was instructed to remind you to use this time to complete your school assignments, but if you wish to rest, feel free to do so. Please remove your shoes should you choose to become recumbent upon our leather."
"Got it." Joe sifted through his bag, removed his trainer's device, and loaded a video game's save file.
Grace drifted inside when Joe's limousine disappeared from view. James was inspecting her efforts, scrubbing at a stain's ghostly rim with the toe of his shoe.
"I'm sorry, Master James. We tried our best, but it wasn't enough. Maybe, if I get some stronger cleansers..."
James continued looking at the stain. "Grace, why did you do that?"
"Because you are unsatisfied with our performance."
"Not why you suggested buying a better spray. Why did you call me 'Master James?' "
"Is that unacceptable?"
James looked aside to Grace, who was still looking at the stain. "I said you could call me 'Dad.' " He turned his body toward her, hers turned away at the exact same time. She now faced a distant corner.
" 'Could,' so it is my choice. Using that word would be inappropriate, Master James. You are not my father, and I am just a thing..."
His eyes squinted slightly, "Grace."
"--that is programmed to do as it is told," she continued to completion.
James pushed his love-seat back into its regular position, covering the stain once more. "Sit down, right here."
Grace obliged without looking toward him or anything else in particular.
"I never said you were a 'thing.' I said that you are a pokemon, and in the eyes of humanity, pokemon don't count as people."
"That's not what you said, Master James. The facts are the same, but when you turn that sentence around it means something else."
"Are you lecturing me about grammar?"
"No, Master. But when I hear you speak, I feel it two ways. I feel it the way all pokemon feel when we hear humans speak, and I also feel what my speech T.M. tells me. When you turn that sentence around it means something else. It means you're trying to say something different to me than what you said to him."
James shifted uncomfortably, started to speak, hesitated, and took a few breaths while he chose a path forward. "You're right. I am. But it's not because I'm trying to trick you. It's because he has to come to realize that you aren't human. God damn it, I wish you were." Grace faced James with focused attention. "That'd make everything a whole lot easier right now if I could snap my fingers and make it so. However, the fact of the matter is, you are a gardevoir; a pokemon. So is Burner. It's not that I want him to treat you any different. I'm proud that he respects you and him, and the others too like he would a human, a friend, a sibling, a l--" James bit his tongue. "But if he doesn't take to heart that outside of his reach you are pokemon, he's going to make bad calls based on misplaced judgment; things that would be fine if you were people, but aren't because you're not." James sat beside her and slowly placed his arm across her shoulders. It did not require much strength to bid her to lean against him although she was clearly surprised by the gesture. Their proximity revealed his mindset to her particular senses. "You haven't told us much about your past, but I understand that you never knew your father. It's our job to choose which hits our kids need to take and learn from, and which we have to protect them from. It's not an easy job, either. Right now, he has to learn that his family is mostly made of pokemon, not people, and that no matter how much human respect he gives you all, when it comes to dealing with the world around him, he is the one and only human that you and Burner have that you can rely on to secure your rights, safety, and future."
Grace sobbed gently, her mind racing with both his and her own emotions, and a complicated tangle of everything he had said and she had thought that afternoon. Once she straightened it out somewhat, she gently stated. "I was born in the wild."
"I know you were, Grace. And, even though the blood stains on your skirt didn't come out completely with the first scrub, you cleaned up pretty well. That's because unlike animals, when you give a pokemon a home and treat it like a person, it slowly becomes one." Grace started to pull away, but James held her fast. "I know what I said sounded hurtful, but you have to trust my intentions." James took a deep breath. "Just as I have come to trust yours, Grace." He felt her slowly become slightly warmer, then, suddenly cooler.
"Dad..."
"Shh, they'll be okay, Grace. It's just a weekend trip and a pokemon battle."
A moment passed before she spoke again. "Dad?" James loosened his grip and let her sit upright, although she chose to stay leaned against his shoulder somewhat. "Will you do something for me?"
"That depends."
Grace nodded. "Will you tell me what it's like... to have... I mean, if I were," Grace blushed with embarrassment. "It's, I can't put it all into your words. Like, if you were--"
James gently tightened his grip on her shoulder and kissed her on the side of her forehead.
"How was your second day at your new school?" asked Martin of his daughter as he passed the spuds around.
"About the same as the first," replied Scarlet, taking a small helping.
Her mother took the bowl next. "Did you make any new friends?"
"About as many as yesterday."
Kari passed the bowl along to Leslie, who resisted but took a little anyway to avoid an impending The Look.
Martin beckoned for salt and pepper. "One more, then, if we count 'some kid' from yesterday. Keep it up and at this rate, by the time you graduate, maybe you'll have enough that we'll know a couple by name."
"Mart! Don't make fun of your daughter." Kari passed the shakers along via Leslie. "You know she's shy."
"Uh-huh. Like how she's gotten thrown out of two school plays for grandstanding."
"That's how she handles nervousness, Mart."
Leslie took a drink. "It's not just some kid. It's a boy." Leslie got The Look from two family members at once for that.
"You see, Kari? I told you we needed to find an all-girls school. I guess we better hold hands and pray." Slowly, hands extended and completed the patriarch's circle. "God, grant that poor boy the serenity to accept being seated next to my daughter, the resilience to withstand her bullying, And the wisdom to know when to run for the hills."
"Mart," Kari said as she broke the circle, "we need to have a talk about your sense of humor."
"Why? It hasn't changed in twenty years."
"Twenty-one years, Martin."
"Who's counting?"
"I am. That's something else we need to talk about."
Scarlet piped up. "Mom, it's no big deal."
"Yes, it is. Saying hurtful things like that can scar a child."
Martin refuted with his mouth slightly occupied. "Child? She's fourteen now, the horses have left the barn on that one, and now you want to take from me the only thing in life that still gives me joy?"
"Are you saying I don't give you joy?"
"Not right now."
The Look.
Scarlet dove in. "He's a trainer."
Martin asked for the gravy. "See, nothing to worry about, Kari. The problem solved itself before we got a chance to make fun of it and then argue about it."
Kari passed the gravy. "We need to talk about that, too."