Adam Abou-Nasr remembers the day Pokémon Red arrived at his house.
I still don’t know how he pulled it off.
A menacing bus driver stopped to pick up Pokémon. Upon completing his collection, he crushed the bus full of creatures down to a pocket-sized Game Boy.
I called my dad at work, pulling him away from a busy restaurant floor. I don’t think I’d ever called him before.
“Please get me Pokémon, Dad!” I begged. “I want the red one, not the blue one.”
We both knew it was a stretch; he was tired and busy at work, trying to provide for us. I was eight and begging for something I knew nothing about. Neither of us could even pronounce the damn thing. I remember trying to add some life-or-death into my voice to imply this was not some passing ask but a deep and powerful need.
I waited until he got off work, convinced he would forget or insist on waiting for Christmas, my birthday, or a nebulous ‘nother day. Food service brought late nights, and this one was a school night. When it was almost too late to wait up any longer, he got home.
“I don’t think they had it,” he told me, stifling a smile. Devastated, I tried to feign understanding. I hid my disappointment the best I could while internally spiraling toward the darkest part of an eight-year-old’s being.
“Unless it was this one,” he said as he pulled a bag out from behind his back. It was. It was Pokémon Red. I shot just as quickly through the roof with gratitude and excitement. I knew it was bedtime, so I rushed to my room to begin my journey.
I had never played an RPG and somehow thought Pokémon was a platformer.
This story seems to grow within me whenever I think of my dad. He’s always been there for my big asks, even when the answer comes with a side of guilt. Even when I don’t know what I’m doing but have still decided to do it. I can only imagine the sight of my dad rushing into Target just before close, trying to remember the name of whatever Pokémon was. I only hope I can someday return the favor by rushing into wherever dads shop just before close to grab whatever it is dads want.
