Undefeatable
Chapter 1: My Decision
I'd already made a choice of my own, but would others let me have it? The next step in resuming my journey was convincing those around me that I was ready for it. Maybe I even had to convince myself. After eight months of depression and more or less being a vegetable, doing so was likely to be more difficult than I initially imagined.
- - - - -
"I must have been in worse shape than I realized..." I mumbled to myself. I was seated in my wheelchair in front of Synth's vanity, tugging at my hair with a comb, trying to get some particularly nasty knots out.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the past week had kind of blurred together. When I got home from last week's physical therapy session, my ego was battered and bruised. I was indeed close to finally standing on my own two feet again, but the fact that I didn't achieve it was immensely disappointing, and I took it pretty hard. Other than bathroom visits, that was the last time I left Synth's bedroom. I didn't even realize it, but I was staring into the abyss, and maybe I was even close to jumping in. But feeling that cool wooden balcony under my feet last night woke me up; I had to pick up the pieces and put myself back together, or I was never going to get my life going again.
I only had one life, better make it count, right?
Putting myself back together was an insurmountable task. Even getting a week's worth of tangles out of my hair was starting to frustrate me! Imagine it: learning to walk again. Building up my confidence. Being able to enjoy the public world again. Living my life without fear that something bad would happen to me just because I left a bedroom. But, you have to start somewhere... You need to walk before you -- no, crawl before you can walk.
Nearly half an hour had passed since I started. By the time I was done, I was surprised I had any hair left on my head at all, I'd pulled out so much of it! I still looked reasonably presentable, but my hair was only part of it. Next came my clothes. I wheeled myself over to the dresser and took a deep breath before I opened the top drawer. Despite forcing myself to see them on a daily basis by that point, it still brought forward a surge of painful memories; on the left side were some of Synth's old clothes: a delicate sundress covered in floral designs, a gaudy magenta tank top, ripped white jeans and other... 'fun' stuff.
Fun hadn't been my style since I was a kid, so I looked to the right side for my own clothes. My wardrobe consisted of airy blouses in pale colors, such as mint, baby blue, pastel pink and my favorite, plain old white, as well as form-fitting knitted sweaters and vests, mostly navy blue and black. The next drawer down was stuffed to the brim with pair after pair of black khakis -- picking a color was always
such a difficulty! Atop the dresser was, for some bizarre reason, the most controversial part of my appearance: a selection of three ties -- red, black and navy blue -- as well as a black bow tie.
People always gave me shit about the way I dress. Admittedly, I stuck out like a sore thumb on Kensala. Everyone else was always running around in tank tops, shorts, flirty short dresses or sometimes just completely topless -- not the worst sight to see, I digress -- and there I am, looking like I'm ready to teach privileged children at a boarding school. 'You're such a square!' people would say. But this is who I am, even if it is uncomfortable sometimes in this climate.
With a wobble, I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked... good. Sharp. Most importantly, I looked
serious, and I felt like that was what I needed if I was going to approach the Wards about my plan to resume my journey. I balanced my collar, adjusted my tie and made some last minute adjustments to my hair, then slowly made my way out of the room. As I entered the hallway, I could hear the familiar sounds of the KBC's morning newscast coming from the kitchen, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was thick in the air.
I took my first step into the kitchen, and Synth's mother -- Melissa -- dropped her mug of coffee, spilling it all over the table, her lap and the floor.
"Oh my god! Stephanie!" she shouted. Her voice quivered and her eyes widened.
"Good morning," I said.
Behind the sprawled out newspaper was Synth's father, Damian. Without a beat, without even checking to see the damage his wife had done when she dropped her coffee, he simply greeted me, "Morning, Stephanie." Outside of those two words, he didn't even acknowledge my presence. It wasn't particularly unusual -- he always seemed pretty detached from me over the past year -- but that was the one morning where his attention was almost necessary.
"Damian, put that newspaper down and look at her!" Melissa crowed.
He lowered his newspaper and looked in my direction. His eyes widened as well when they met mine. "Well holy shit, look at that! You're on your feet!"
"Mhmm! Still a little wobbly, but... I'm walking again! I spent a couple hours practicing last night... I'm sure you heard me fall over a few times."
"It's so wonderful to see you on your feet again! This is the progress your mother has been waiting for!"
I laughed and raised my hands in a shrug. "What about the progress
I've been waiting for?" I took a seat at the table across from the two, grabbed one of the free mugs from the center of the table, and poured myself a steaming cup of coffee. "I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that I've made my first steps since... you know. But I don't know if she'll be
really happy."
She tilted her head to the side in what felt like a condescending way. Surely she already knew, but she asked anyways. "What do you mean?"
"Well, last night was... I think it woke me up. My mother called last night and told me that I'm going home. The decision had already been made, without my approval or even talking to me about it. She said I'm not making enough progress, which is probably fair of her to say, but... I want to stay here on Kensala!"
"Don't you miss your family?"
I took in a deep breath and held it for a brief moment, as I was unsure my answer would be received well. "Uhh... Kinda, but not really? I wasn't very happy when I was living with my parents. They already had ideas of what I should do with my life, and it was the source of a lot of needless strain and stress. Going back now would just be more of the same, and considering the life I've lived since I came here, would probably just make things worse."
"Well... That's something you're going to have to talk to her about. She's already started making preparations for you to go home."
"Yeah, she mentioned that. She..." I bit my tongue. I was about to bring up the fact that Melissa was also in on my mother's plan to send me home against my will, but thought to myself: what good would that really accomplish? It'd cause an argument at the very least, and likely show that I was more trouble than I was worth... I had to show that I wasn't. "Before I talk to her about it, I want to talk to you guys about it."
Damian lowered his newspaper again and stared at his watch. "What's on your mind?"
I lowered my eyes and stared into that steaming mug of coffee. "It might take awhile to get started again, but... I want to resume my challenge of the Kensacola League, and I want to dedicate my performances to Synth's memory."
For the third time, Damian lowered his newspaper, only this time putting it down and onto the table. I couldn't quite read his reaction; his blank expression gave no hints of whether he approved or not. Melissa on the other hand was much easier to read. I could tell right away that she disapproved. Not out of anger that I was making a bad decision, but uncertainty. I can't say I blamed her.
"Steph, I don't think that's a good idea. It nearly got you killed, and that was when you were at your strongest. You can barely walk!"
"That's why I said it'll take time. I don't intend to just walk down to Angel Bay tomorrow or anything like that --"
"Did you make this decision to avoid going home for a few more months?"
...She may have been right about that. I didn't want to admit it to them, but I realized that I did make my decision while riding a wave of emotion; anger at my mother for trying to steal me away again, sorrow over what happened to me and Synth, disappointment that my recovery wasn't progressing, and fear that my future was in danger of being taken from me.
"Maybe a little? I do want to do this for more reasons than just having an excuse to not go home... That was my life, my passion and my dream that was taken from me, and I want to take it back. I don't want to be defeated by a setback like that. If I'm going to be defeated at all, I want it to be because my best efforts weren't good enough. Not because I got sucker punched by some thug."
A slight smirk appeared on Damian's face. "Look at that, she's still got some fire in her."
"I'm not sure that's something to celebrate, considering everything that's happened to her..."
"If you're saying we should snuff out that flame... Look, Stephanie's a legal adult. A bright young lady. This decision is rightfully hers to make."
"What if it's the wrong decision to make? We can't ignore the fact that if she goes on this journey again, she'll be going back to the east side of the island..."
"What is it with everyone trying to take my decisions away from me? Why am I not entitled to do what I want with my life, and learn from any mistakes I make?" I demanded. I got no answers. "Maybe I
have learned a thing or two about the east side of the island that'll have me more prepared now. Besides, who knows? I might not even stick to it. I plan to take small steps first, and I might see that I'm in over my head. I'm prepared to call it quits if I am, and even considering going back home. But if I do stick to it, things will be different this time. I won't make the same mistakes."
I could almost see the gears whirring away in her head, and she eventually sighed. "If you're serious about this, we're going to need to speak to your mother about it. Probably a therapist, too, to make sure you're not making a decision for the wrong reasons."
"And speak to a therapist about your stubbornness, Mel!" We all could have used the lighter mood from Damian's unexpected joke, though Melissa didn't seem to take it quite as well as we did.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather talk to my mother about this myself. I know you don't agree with my decision, so... I don't want that conversation being two against one. Hope you understand."
"That's fair enough, I suppose..."
Damian reached for his mug of coffee and downed the rest of it in several greedy gulps. "Right! Gotta go, the shop floor won't run itself..." He leaned over in my direction and wrapped his massive hand around my shoulder. With a heavy shake, he told me, "You're a strong girl, Stephanie. Don't let your mother bully you. Good luck."
I offered a smile. "Thank you. I'll try."
- - - - -
I waited until that afternoon to make the call home. Not because I needed time to prepare what I was going to say -- I'd already written down a few notes before I went to bed the previous night -- but because I was scared. Phone calls are bad enough on their own, but one that would define my future for better or most likely for worse? Suddenly, jumping off that balcony to my doom didn't seem like the worst idea...
When someone has already made a decision for you, and then built plans off of that decision, and probably already spent money on it, how do you tell them that you're not going to do what they ask of you? I spent about an hour wrestling with that question, and I'd made no progress towards finding the answer. My mother already decided that I'm returning home to our lovely little cabin in Susqanna Falls, to tend to the maple trees and settle down into a boring life bereft of any interest or adventure... but why should I? I'm an adult, I can take care of myself... I think.
I shook my legs like pendulums as I sat in my wheelchair.
Okay, maybe I couldn't take care of myself. Not fully. But I had the drive to reach that point, and that's what counted, right?
Just thinking that pushed me to finally hit the call button on those numbers that had been punched in for nearly an hour. Before the first ring had even finished, my mother picked up the phone. I was always fascinated by how quick she was; she must have been a witch.
"Hello?"
"Hi mom."
"Stephanie! How are you?"
"Better than most days, I think! Have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"I guess Melissa didn't call ahead and tell you?"
"No. I haven't heard from her. What's happening?"
"Here, let me show you. Gonna turn on my cam, you watching?"
"Uhh... Let's see... I remember how to do this!" she murmured. Eventually a video feed of her face popped up in the corner of my screen. She appeared to be in the middle of wandering the plantation back home. Moderate snow accumulation on the ground flooded the image of her with a bright and harsh white, a sharp contrast from the heat wave baking Port Fortune at the moment.
"Gimme a second!" I pleaded. I placed my phone down onto the table beside me, giving her a view of the thoroughly uninteresting white ceiling of Synth's room, then pushed myself out of the wheelchair. I was more wobbly than I wanted for this display, but it would have to do. I picked my phone back up and slowly started to angle it downward -- first my chest came into view, followed by my belly, then my hips and finally, the
pièce de résistance, my legs.
Her face lit up like a holiday tree and she nearly fell over, catching her balance against the shed behind her. "By the Prophet..."
"Yep! I'm standing on my own!" I happily confirmed. "Even better, watch this..." I took my first step forward, and then the next until I was outside on the balcony, out into the shining sunlight and blazing heat. I angled the camera around to show her a view of the city from my vantage point. "I still have a ways to go, but I took my first independent steps last night. No support bars needed!"
"Steph, that's wonderful! When I called last night, I was beginning to worry that you'd given up hope... And now I see how wrong I was!"
"Well, that call was what inspired me to try. Nothing like a call from you to light a fire under my ass. Like usual."
Warmth radiated from her face as a smile appeared on it.
I hated to put that smile in jeopardy, but it was time to stand my ground. "So, umm... We do need to talk about stuff, don't we?"
"Yes, we do. I hoped to get to it last night while I had the paperwork in front of me, but... I've been shopping around and have picked out your flight ho--"
Fuck! She already did spend money...
"Mom, slow down," I interrupted. "
We need to talk, not just you, and I have to say something first. I'm scared to say it, because I know you're not going to like it, but... I'm not ready to go home. Not yet!"
Her expression darkened, enough so that I rushed to turn my camera off to avoid seeing it. She sighed heavily, and I could tell she was annoyed.
Very annoyed, and I couldn't blame her. "Of course you're not. You always say that, and I always give you more time. Unless you can give me a very good reason why you're not coming back, I'm not going to do that this time. You've been making decisions lately that actively harm your recovery, and I can't stand aside and let you do that to yourself anymore."
Oh boy. If missing one or two physical therapy sessions because I was stuck in bed with depression was a bad choice, she certainly wasn't going to like the reasons I wanted to stay.
"I've not been making the fastest recovery, I admit that. But I think I just displayed that my recovery is going to speed up considerably!"
"Which you can do here at home."
"I could, but... Kensala Majora is a relaxing environment. It's paradise!" I answered back. "Well, the western portions are, at least."
"Susqanna Falls is paradise as well!"
I suppose she wasn't wrong about that, but it was a different kind of paradise... One that didn't necessarily agree with me. The scenery was peaceful, the people were nice and the bounty of nature was nearly limitless, but Susqanna Falls was also very far north and experienced long and bitter winters. Outside of the odd icy attack in my Pokémon battles, I hadn't seen snow in person in almost two years, and frankly I wasn't interested in seeing it again so soon.
"But it also gets cold there, and winter's not over yet. I'm enjoying the weather here."
"That's not a good reason to avoid coming home, Steph. If that's your only reason, I am profoundly disappointed in your stubborn and spoiled behavior. I didn't raise you to be like this."
Okay. You want to play that way? Time to just get this over with.
"Another big reason I want to stay here is that I want to try to resume my journey now that I'm in the final stage of my recovery."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, until I heard a sharp inhale. I could tell that she was fighting back tears over what I just said, and to be honest, I felt pretty bad about that...
"I was afraid you were going to say something like that. That's your real reason, isn't it? Not because Kensala is a paradise, or because you think you'll recover quickly now, but because you're just too stubborn to give up."
That was half of it, and probably the easier half for her to accept. I debated with myself over telling her that I also didn't want to go home because I didn't want to fall back into that old and simplistic lifestyle I left behind, but... That would have been too much to hear, I think. Despite me and my mother's differences in opinions and lifestyles, and how much I moan and groan about her, I'm not heartless and I wasn't ready to shatter her into pieces.
"I know it seems insane, but... I had so much taken away from me, mom. My hopes, my dreams, my confidence... Not to mention my best friend. I need a chance to reach out and take back what I can before I leave this place, or I'm going to have a very rough time adjusting to life back in the Republic."
Another of her sighs followed, as did another prolonged moment of silence. "I think I can understand that feeling, Steph. Or at least I can imagine it... Last night was eight months to the day, right?"
"It was."
"It must be a very emotional time for you... A lot is going through your heart and your mind right now, isn't it?"
"Yeah..."
"What's really telling you to do this? Your heart or your mind? It's possible that you're getting swept up in your emotions again, Steph."
"I thought about that earlier... I'm not really sure. Mel suggested that I book an appointment with Dr. Schweitzer to help me figure that out."
"That sounds like a good idea." There was a long pause on the line before she finally spoke up in a sheepish tone. "Do you intend to
ever come back home?"
"Sure!" I answered confidently, despite not being as confident as I sounded. "If things go according to plan, it could be awhile, but I eventually will... The Divine Republic isn't all bad! I just..." I wanted to choose my words carefully, or I risked spilling the beans on the other reason I didn't want to go home, the reason I felt would have just killed her heart completely. I settled on a soft lie. "I just... enjoy my life here a little too much to give it up right now."
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Stephanie, but please, hear me out?"
"I'll listen."
"I've kept quiet about it for the most part, but I worry that you've been taken from us -- not taken as in you've been killed, obviously. But... Taken from the path we all share, away from your brothers and sisters of the faith. I worry that we'll never see you on that path again. I may not be as worldly as some other people and my experience is limited, but I do know the reputation that Kensala has as a land of cruelty, cynicism, greed, and vice. The stories that I hear from Mel and her friends concern me greatly."
She was spot on about that, it was a bit of a culture shock when I came here. I was scared for my safety when I saw my first mugging, shortly after leaving the airport. The level of abject poverty that was visible almost everywhere was unsettling. The fact that there's a brothel operating just two blocks away in the middle of Port Fortune still makes me a little uneasy. Drugs flow through the streets like water, leaving all sorts of squalor and hopelessness in their wake. But... I'd gotten used to it all, I guess? Maybe that's what she meant all those times she said I was being led astray; these are symptoms of a society in agony, and I was
getting used to it...
"Thankfully you've been safe cooped up in the Wards' home over the past few months. But now you intend to go back out into the darkness? That
terrifies me more than you could imagine, Steph. Port Fortune may look like a nice place from above on that balcony, but it's all a trick. An illusion. Danger lurks in every alley, and people hide their true intentions behind crooked smiles. Outside of the city, it's even worse -- and don't even try to tell me it's not true, because you've experienced all of these things yourself! You only ever escaped all of that danger because you were stronger than you are now. Without that strength... I worry about your future, and it's why I want you to come home."
I could sense a crack forming. All throughout my childhood and teenage years, my mother -- and the various clergy of the faith -- always told me and my siblings that it wasn't
our strength that kept our lives in order, it was the strength and will of our Divine Creator. His -- or Her, though I personally prefer His -- plan was all we needed, and now suddenly my personal strength was a variable in that holiest of equations. For a woman of such unshakeable faith to say something like that was... kinda heartbreaking? It also told me just how much she wanted me to go home, which made my decision to stubbornly resist her demand a lot more difficult.
"Mom, please. I've not abandoned my faith. Maybe I haven't taken it as seriously as I promised I would, but... I still feel the Divine Creator's light. It's why I'm still alive, isn't it?"
"Yes..."
"My experience eight months ago has taught me that maybe I should take my faith a little more seriously, so I promise to do that. But, about strength of body... I know that I am in no position to go stomping across the island as if nothing has happened. When I took my first steps last night, I quickly realized that my legs are in poor shape. I fell when I practiced my walking -- a lot. This journey I intend to resume, it isn't going to start tomorrow, or even next week. I'm going to take baby steps to see if I'm even capable of it. If I'm not capable, then it's time to go back home -- and that's a promise. I just want a chance to take back everything that's been taken from me. Is that too much to ask?"
"I suppose you deserve that much, after everything you've been through. Just... be careful? And please, don't push yourself too hard to prove yourself. If you're not able to do what you want, there's no shame in admitting defeat."
What in the blazes? She was actually encouraging me, just after calling me a spoiled bitch and telling me that I was on the road to damnation? I can never read this lady, I swear.
"I should get back to work... I still have to start on dinner as well, your sisters are coming over for dinner! Maybe you could call back later and we could all have a family get together?"
"I think I could do that!" I answered. I kinda didn't want to, but... family is family, right? At the very least, I wanted to stay on my mother's good side by humoring her, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Besides... Having a chance to catch up with Jessica, Tiffany and Alenya, talk about their lives as housewives and see my nieces and nephews would certainly motivate me even more to stay here on Kensala, heh!
"Thank you for talking to me about this, Steph. I disagree with and I'm disappointed in your decision, but you don't know how happy I am that you didn't blow off this discussion, like you have so many times in the past."
"Oh come on, I'm not
that bad am I?"
"Well... I wasn't going to say it!" she said with a laugh. "Good luck on your recovery! Let me know how things go?"
"I will."
"Good bye. I love you."
"You too, mom."
And with that, my phone went silent. The whole world around me did...
Well! That conversation went better than I expected. Despite her numerous and egregious shortfalls as both a mother and a compassionate human being, maybe I assume the worst of my mother too easily... Hell, maybe even
that assessment of her character was a little too harsh... But I did still have to show that I was capable of doing this, or it really would be time to go home, and that conversation didn't do enough to convince me it'd be a good idea. It was time to book an appointment with Dr. Schweitzer...