"Obsession"
by Blackjack Gabbiani
Chapter EighteenMy father and I hardly spoke at all over the next few days, which suited me just fine. He tried to project his facade of doting parent, but I would never let him get to me. Every time he looked at me, it was with that downcast expression meant to inspire pity. What a fool.
He replaced the book I had ripped, but felt the need to tell me how expensive it had been. It would mean nothing to him to dip into that money he sat upon and never used; there was no use trying to make me feel for something that had been entirely his fault.
In the meantime, I busied myself with my studies. I would never admit it to /him/, but as I had told Asaph, I was beginning to take a shine to science. I decided that if I kept it to myself, it would be an acceptable interest.
My father would have insisted that it was in my blood or something clichéd like that, but the reality was simple. Science is facts, it's the way things are. And facts are constant, staying the same no matter if people see them for what they are or not.
It was like art in so many ways. People will banter about the meanings of the pieces, but the pieces themselves will always be the same, unchanging despite whatever meanings people attribute to them.
And like art, it was beautiful. What a wonder it was to know such things, the secrets of the universe itself! Science is the divine, that which only a few can ever understand, and art is a reflection of that same power.
For his part, my father was busy with work, not only in the factory, but with blueprints. It had been years since his last ship design premiered, and he had been hit by two new ideas, so he had taken to his office in his spare time. He had asked Helen to watch me, but I scarcely needed such a thing, and she agreed. She was a far more connective person than he was, yet we rarely spoke. Perhaps that was part of it, but I didn't want to ruin it.
One time, a telephone call from Asaph brought me out of my room. The only telephone on the second floor was in my father's bedroom, another sign of his irrationality. He insisted that I had to be social, and yet forced me into his world to follow through with that when I wished to have remote contact. It was really no wonder I preferred spending time with Asaph versus speaking to him distantly.
Asaph had traveled overseas, in search of ancient treasure as he always did. No, that's not true, most of his treasures were from the past five hundred years. But this was from a time long passed, longer by far than his normal scope. This quest had taken him to Lopatin, a narrow spit of a region far to the north that brushed against the continent as though the two were hesitant to touch.
I answered the telephone in the living room; better there than in the confined space defined by my father. Asaph greeted me and immediately told me how cold it was there. "And it's very difficult to find a suitable coat in this part of the region," he added.
"Did you make the acquisition?" I asked, smiling genuinely for what seemed like the first time in an eon.
He took in a long breath. This was what he had called for, after all, but he had to have a proper introduction. "Jiri..." he let out, hushed, "it's the most magnificent jewel I've ever had the honor of viewing. And now it's mine...it's mine after so long."
He had told me of the jewel when we first met. The Eye of Dawn, the brilliant pokéball-sized white opal that had once crowned the scepter of a priestess in Tirari...it had been his goal for decades. He rarely spoke of it to me or other Collectors, but when he left to procure it, he was breathless and shivery. Obviously he would never show this side of himself to just anyone, but even so I hoped that I would be calmer in such a situation, even to no one but myself. "I'm glad...it must be stunning."
"I can't wait for you to see it, Jiri. It's...it's perfect. It's the most ideal thing I've ev--" And he stopped mid-word and cleared his throat. "You'll understand when you see it. I could never do it justice."
His voice had dropped to the point where I could scarcely hear it and I had to focus entirely to do so. "I look forward to it," I told him softly, in keeping with his tone.
There was silence on the line for a moment, and I wondered if he hadn't been cut off until he resumed speaking, in his normal voice. "So your birthday is this month, isn't it?"
"No, it was last week. You left shortly before it." It had been a small thing without any fuss, hardly worth mentioning.
"...oh." Again he lapsed into silence, this lasting for quite a bit longer. I was about to address him when he continued. "Well, I'm sorry I missed it..."
"It doesn't matter," I dismissed quickly, waving my hand although he wouldn't see it. "I've already told people I was nine anyway."
"You did, I see..." he mused, finally deciding on a simple "You shouldn't do that."
"Pardon?" He confused me sometimes, although he always had a higher purpose for doing so, so I waited.
But his speech was slow and halted. "You...don't want to be older, Jiri. You should stay young for as long as you can. It's...it's really best." He stumbled over the words in a way I'd never heard him do before.
I remained still for several seconds, trying to think of what to say and cursing myself for the delay. "But now I *am* nine, so it doesn't matter, right?"
"No, I-I suppose it doesn't," he admitted, with a pang of reluctance to it.
"...when will you be back in Kanto?" I asked, to clear the air more than anything else.
"Oh yes!" That seemed to snap him out of whatever plagued him. "I'm going to remain here for at least another week. Lopatin is rich in history, and it's been a long time since I've been here, so I'd like to revisit some places. Oh, but when I come back, I'll have a surprise for you."
"For my birthday? You don't have--"
He chuckled. "Oh no, it's just that we'll have a new student joining us shortly. I think you'll get along wonderfully."
I doubted it, but I had to trust him. "That's good to hear."
We spoke for a bit longer before he was called away, and since I was downstairs I decided to make myself some lunch. When I was studying, I could ignore hunger or other needs for far longer than I could when I wasn't absorbed in something.
I opened the refrigerator just as my father rushed in from the factory, scrambling for something on the dining room table. "Have to fi--oh, Jiri! Tell you what, come out and see me in my office when you're done. I've got a client there now, but--here it is!--there's something I want to go over with you." He grabbed the sheaf of papers and ran back out.
Peculiar. Although the factory wasn't without its interests, for him to speak with me out there was unusual of late. At least he recognized that the days were past where I would sit in the corner and attempt to draw, something I was, in retrospect, never very good at. Nevertheless, I returned my attention to finding something edible.
The food in that house was horrid; nothing but the simplest of things. A short time ago I would have eaten it with no issue, but speaking with Asaph at his mansion made me reconsider many things I had previously taken for granted. The thought of eating something as base as a processed hot dog was repugnant to me now, where I had tolerated it not long ago. But that was precisely what I had, microwaved to tastelessness and wrapped in a slice of bleached white bread and adorned with ketchup so sugary that my front teeth stung, something I had never noticed before.
How could my father live like this? No no, how could *I* live like this? I at least knew better.
I choked down the food, finding it barely tolerable while a month ago I'd have eaten it without a thought. I would have to learn to dine like a gentleman if I was to ever become one, I mused as I brushed stray crumbs from my shirt. I had to be presentable before I entered the factory, in case the employees saw me.
But none of them even looked my way for more than a glance. Even with as much as I had changed these past months, as distant as I had been of late, I still escaped their notice as simply another fixture of the factory.
As anticipated, someone was in the office with my father, and through the windowed walls he looked familiar, but I could not place him. Still, his presence made me uncomfortable, the tinge of a painful memory dancing at the corners of my mind.
I occupied myself with thoughts of the future, what my own collection would someday entail. I could almost see it; my treasures surrounding me, filling my mansion at every available space, scaling the walls and perched in the hallways on elegant columns of the finest marble...or was marble too commonplace? I'd have to find a way of setting myself apart from even my fellow Collectors. Well, Asaph could help me with that when it came time. For now I could plan the overarch and fill in the details later.
"--a pleasure dealing with you again," I heard and the words cut through my daydream, trailing shivers down my back and fastening me back in my surroundings.
"As always. Give your mother my best." That was my father as he shook the man's hand in the doorway. "Jiri, come on."
As I stood, the man about to leave looked me up and down, and his thin mouth tightened into a smirk. "Your son is becoming quite the gentleman," he said in a clipped voice, adjusting the line of his black suit, hand nearly obscuring the red insignia over his heart.
I smiled, hoping it was a disarming look to pave over the unsettling feeling I still could not shake, and my father clasped my shoulder. "That's my boy!" he said proudly, and with that the disturbed sense was gone, filled in with revulsion. I wasn't his boy! Well...no, I was, but only in the biological way. He had nothing to do with my path or my future, and he certainly did nothing to encourage me to be a man of the world.
But I in turn did nothing to dislodge his grip.
The man had left, a familiar dash of cologne in his wake. A brief flash in my mind of ivory and silver, and it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "He's very perceptive," my father started. "I've told him about you, but to pick up on something like that is pretty impressive."
"It doesn't matter," I said, belatedly aware of how non sequitur that sounded. "You said you had something to tell me."
"Oh, that's right!" He snapped his fingers and headed back towards the office, the implication for me to follow unsaid. I held still for a moment, knowing what he wanted and waiting for him to put it to words, before I realized that he never would.
He was at his desk when I opened the door--of course he had closed it behind him, even though he knew I was behind him. "What is this about?" I asked him, taking the seat across from him before he could extend the invitation. If he was going to be less than polite I would act in kind.
"Well, I've been..." And he stopped, seeming to think about something. "First off, I want to make sure. I've never seen you take an interest in pokémon, so you probably wouldn't go on a trainer's journey next year, right?"
/Or ever/ I mentally added, but confirmed his query. Living things held no passion for me and he should have known that long before asking.
"Ok..." Another pause, this time considerably longer. "I...I was saving some money for you. In case you went on a journey. But since it doesn't look like you will, then I was thinking of giving it to you now."
"Are you now." I looked out the window, towards the factory door. There was a small white bird fluffing itself in the open entryway, craving the heat put off by the factory proper but unwilling to go any further.
"Jiri...tomorrow I'm going to go to the bank and transfer 50,000 p into your account."
It took me a moment. At first I wasn't certain I heard him correctly, or even at all, and was about to ask him to repeat himself, but turning back towards him and seeing his expression told me everything. I had heard him right, he was telling me the truth, he was giving me--
"Jiri?"
"What?" I blurted out, more of a clarification of his statement than a reply to his attention.
"You're so stone-faced, I wasn't sure if you heard me." He chuckled. "I said I'm--"
"Yes!" It was a shout, quite undignified, and I forced myself to keep my composure although my mind was racing. Why would he give me so much money? This was my father after all, the man who never made an effort, the man who always insisted he knew what was best for me and didn't know a thing, and this man was giving me how much? Words failed me and rather than make a further fool of myself, I lapsed into silence.
"Now, I know you're going to be using that money, but there's going to be some limits." He continued on about monthly access and investments and such things, and I nodded furiously at each point. I heard them and processed them but I don't think he knew that.
The next day I accompanied him to the bank early in the morning and watched the transfer take place. All the way back I held the bank receipt showing the total amount, and I thought maybe my father wasn't so bad after all.
But when he returned to the blueprints on the dining room table, the first thing he picked up was that book, and I knew I had been right before.