From the private journal of Wendy Briese-
13 July, AD 2011
Last night was one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve had in a long time. Cody and Scarlett’s new house in Turtle Bay is a wonderful dwelling for the young couple. It has a lovely view of the East River, and is in close proximity to much of Manhattan’s best areas. Scarlett was such an amazing hostess as well. For all the success she’s had at her young age, it’s nice to see that she’s remained grounded, and true to herself. I hope she stays that way- New York has a tendency to change you, and rarely for the better.
But our brief venture to the Big Apple has come with a price. Namely, catching a red-eye from La Guardia and arriving back in Indianapolis at three o’clock this morning. I couldn’t even begin to remember when the last time I slept until noon was.
Unfortunately, with my match against Crystal Hilton looming, I can hardly give myself a day off. After I finish breakfast (or lunch), it’s off to the gym. My desire to beat Crystal is slowly but surely surpassing that of me just wanting to win the Chase for the Crown. It’s becoming personal, something that always makes me a little uncomfortable. But God, she’s got such an annoying, braggadocios personality, I really, REALLY want to shut that woman up. I can’t really bear the thought of losing to her. Not because she’s a bad wrestler, but because I know if I do, she’d NEVER shut up about it.
Pollaski’s also supposed to come over this evening. I guess he’s got a merchandising idea he wants to run by me. I’m intrigued- he said it was something that can be used to benefit the Komen foundation, but he won’t tell me exactly what he’s working on. That also worries me- Pollaski doesn’t have the best history in the world when it comes to merchandising ideas. I still haven’t quite forgiven him over the licensed pencil sharpener he had produced, even if he’s promised that he learned the valuable lesson that ‘hole placement matters’.
And through all this build-up, my mind keeps wandering back to the conversation I had with Andrea last Saturday night. Did Wesley really wreck Terrence in retaliation for my accusations? Was Andrea just bluffing to get under my skin? Did Wes just mean to bump him, or spin him out, and things got out of control? I keep trying to think about it from all possible angles, but nothing’s made my mind any easier.
Even worse, I won’t be attending Terrence’s race at the Iowa Speedway. It’s Saturday- the same day as Breaking Point, and while he’s racing, I’ll be a couple hundred miles to the north in Minneapolis. This is the first time since Terrence retired and I joined FFW that we have had to separate. I’d always known that it was a possibility- even an inevitability, but still, that it’s coming this week, when so much has gone wrong over the past fortnight, screams ‘bad omen’ to me.
Which I guess is silly. Whatever happens in the ring will happen, there’s not a thing Terrence can do about it, just as I have no control over how Terrence’s races end up. But when you’re married, you want to be there for your spouse, whether its a triumph or a tribulation. At least until Terrence comes to pick me up Saturday Night the both of us are on our own. I’ll have Pollaski of course, but that’s hardly the same thing.
I haven’t even told Terrence about Andrea’s comments to me, and I don’t know if I should. Terry’s been so adamant about not causing friction between himself and Hamilton- it’s too obvious who the team would support in a feud. And if I press him on it, that’ll just create unnecessary friction between us. So maybe it’s better that I keep my mouth shut. After all, isn’t that what Andrea wants me to do?
No, I have to at least let him know. The last time I kept a concern of mine from Terrence, it nearly blew up our world and almost caused our marriage to fall apart. Even if I annoy him today, there’s no way I can risk jeopardizing the future of this family because I’m afraid. Terrence is always telling me that I have too little trust in him. I guess this is a good time to show a bit more.
I just pray that through all of this, somehow, someway, it all works out for the best in the end. It seems like in some aspects, that’s all I really can do.
- WCBT
========================================================
Wednesday July 13, 2011
The Nest- Front Entry
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:13 PM Local Time
“Out! Out! OUT!”
Pollaski turned around as I shoved him out the front door of my house, and stood on the front porch. He shrugged half-hearted in apology, and gave me a lopsided grin. “Don’t you wanna hear my idea about the cookies?”
*SLAM!*
I turned around and leaned back against the door. Through the portal, I could hear my manager’s muffled, yet cheerful ‘see you tomorrow’, followed several seconds later by the sound of his car starting. I shook my head, and puffed an errant strand of hair from my face. As much as I liked Pollaski, and as useful as he was to me, there were some moments where the man was more than I could possibly handle.
This was one of those moments.
With a grunt of frustration, I pushed myself away from the door and walked back into the living room, then the dining room. On the table were the current objects of my frustration- five half-gallon milk cartons that served as the prototype for Pollaski’s latest brain sprain.
I thought the idea of FFW teaming with Lucerne Dairy to produce FFW branded milk was a novel idea, especially since the proposal Pollaski was planning on making to Mr. Kincaid had the proceeds to be donated to the Susan B. Komen Foundation. The cartons would carry the FFW logo, as well as a promotional shot of various FFW superstars, depending on the type of milk contained within the carton.
Less amusing was that the five wrestlers Pollaski had chosen were mothers. That in itself was hardly offensive, but when coupled with altering the Lucerne ‘MILK’ logo so that the final letter was an ‘F’, things took a rather abrupt turn for the tasteless. Especially when Pollaski seemed to have gotten the most racy photos possible of the various wrestlers- including one of me that I’m pretty sure was NOT a part of my promotional portfolio.
At least the plans were for half-gallon cartons. I could almost cringe at the thought of these things being sold in school cafeterias.
I picked up my carton again, and grimaced. Crystal Hilton had been placed on the chocolate MIL- carton. Camilla Pazzini was on the whole, while Valerie Belmont and Katherine Stryfe had been placed on the two-percent and one-percent, respectively. I was on the skim.
It was fairly impossible to miss the connotations behind that.
“They’re not that small!” I groused under my breath. I was middle of the pack among the FFW superstars for both height and weight, and my dimensional proportions were MORE than adequate for my size! My physician even said so!
“What was all that yelling and banging?” I looked up from my moping to see my husband sweeping into the dining room, looking concerned. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Was just seeing Pollaski out,” I said simply, but my husband was already distracted.
“Oh, nice! I’m thirsty!” Terrence grabbed the chocolate milk off the table, and opened it, tilting his throat back and seemingly poring half the carton down in one gulp. He slammed it down on the table, wiping his mouth. “Ah, that hit the spot! The garage is really dusty.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have some nice SKIM milk?” I offered, clenching my teeth.
“Nah, skim’s boring. Hey, what’s Crystal Hilton’s picture doing on here? And why does it say MIL-”
“Because Pollaski’s an idiot!” I snapped, cutting my husband off. Terrence took a step back, clearly nonplussed. For the first time, Terrence seemed to notice the carton I was holding.
“Hey you got one too!”
He reached out for it, and I tossed it to him, rolling my eyes. Terrence looked it over for a few seconds, before looking up and grinning. “Hey, I remember this photo! You texted it to me the morning of my birthday!”
“I know, I remember,” I responded, trying to keep my voice light. “So how did it end up THERE?”
Terrence looked puzzled for a second, then comprehension and rememberance lit up his features. “Oh... Ooooohhhhhhhhh! Yeah, I meant to tell you about that.”
“Tell me about WHAT?”
“That they really shouldn’t put the ‘save’ button and the ‘forward to all contacts’ button so close together.”
“Terrence...” I growled.
“Sorry!” Terrence replied quickly, although he was half-grinning. “For the record, you were really popular with the guys in the garage for a couple weeks.”
“I bet,” I responded icily, crossing my arms over my chest. At least the mystery of how Pollaski had gotten the photo was solved.
A long uncomfortable silence lingered in the dining room, before Terrence began to gather the unopened milk cartons in his hands. He went around the table, easily skirting my location, heading to the kitchen.
“Oh, by the way, I got us a reservation for Theresa’s birthday at Chuck E. Cheeze’s in Des Moines. Not a big party, but it should do for the five of us.”
“Oh, good,” I smiled, willing to let the matter of the MIL- cartons drop for the time being. My smile was short lived, however, and I sighed. “I wish we could hold it here, like we did last year.”
“Yeah, well,” Terrence said, shutting the fridge. “Unfortunately duty calls the both of us.” He went to shrug, but then visibly grimaced and rubbed his shoulder.
I was suddenly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
Terrence changed his rubbing to look like he was scratching an itch, and scoffed, as if my question was ridiculous. “Of course I am. Are you okay?”
“Your shoulder’s hurting again,” I insisted, looking directly into my husband’s eyes. Even though all his x-rays and tests had returned negative after his accident at Berlin, several times I had caught him rubbing his shoulder. “You should get it looked at.”
“I’m fine,” Terrence said, rolling his eyes. “Just a little stiff from the garage, that’s all.”
“Terry, this isn’t the first-”
“Look, I’m medically cleared, okay? That’s all that matters.”
“The hell it is!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “Terrence, if you’re hurt, then you shouldn’t be driving at Iowa! No one’s going to think any less of you if-”
“Wendy, I guarantee you that I have less sore spots than you do, okay? We’re in high impact sports, bumps and bruises go with the territory. And I’m not going to sit out a nationally televised race unless I’m ordered to, so just DROP IT, okay?”
I bristled, but bit my lip. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Wiithout a word, I turned, and threw open the nearest cupboard, using the guise of trying to decide what I wanted to make for dinner as an excuse to not look at my stubborn husband. Of course, Terrence was a bit more perceptive than that.
“Wendy, is everything alright? You’ve been dropping hints all week that you don’t want me going to Iowa. Hell, you even asked me to skip the race to accompany you to ringside, and you normally hate it when I’m in your corner.”
It was true enough. Terrence was a great husband, and was a fantastic wrestler in his own right, but I generally found him more irritating than helpful in a corner position. Pollaski had a knack for knowing what buttons to push, and when to push them, and was actually very perceptive and helpful on advice. Terrence just yelled inane encouragement like ‘you can do it!’ and ‘come on!”.
But I’d be way more comfortable with him at ringside than I would him on the track this week. Now was as good as any a time to tell him why.
“The night you crashed,” I began, turning around and leaning against the counter. “I ran into Andrea while leaving the hospital. She told me your accident... well, wasn’t an accident.”
Terrence eyebrows arched, and he looked at me skeptically. “She said that? She flat out told you that Wesley wrecked me on purpose?”
I grimaced. “Not... verbatim. But if you read between the lines...”
“Nah, no way.” Terrence responded. “You probably were just tired, and misunderstood her. Hon, I talked to Wes, and no one felt worse about the accident than him. Maybe he meant to give me a bump, but he never meant for it to get out of control like that. What exactly did she tell you, do you remember?”
“That me ‘running my mouth’ produced bad karma, which caused you to crash. And the next time my ‘negative energy’ caused you to crash, it would be a far worse outcome.” I paused for a second. “It sounded like a threat to me.”
Terrence bit his lower lip, drumming his fingers on the table. Finally, he shrugged. “I dunno, hon.” I started to protest, but he held up a hand to silence me. “I’m sure she said what you heard, but it was probably adrenaline fueling her. Wesley had just won the race, and she was on top of the world, while you had a miserable night. She felt victorious, and vindictive, and you just happened to be there. I don’t think she likes you.”
“Tell me about it,” I groused.
“But ultimately, this changes nothing, Wendy. Andrea can be as wretched as she wants to be- she’s not the one getting in the car. And neither are you, for that matter. And I’d rather not be playing bumper cars week after week with Wes because our wives don’t like each other.”
I snorted in disdain. “If she were a wrestler, I’d have challenged her to a match for those words, and I would have slapped her in the Banshee until she begged for mercy. No one threatens my family.”
Terrence smirked, and paused, as if he was enjoying the mental image. But then he shrugged, “Well, she’s not. So you two are going to have to figure out a way to iron things out in a more civilized manner. But it ain’t going to the track. Remember, your world, my world. We agreed on that, and I really need for you to respect that, and trust me to do the right thing. Do you trust me?”
I paused for a long second, before finally nodding. “I trust you,” I said.
I really didn’t have much of a choice.
I just hoped it didn’t lead to me becoming a widow by the end of the season.
=====================================
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana; 8:10 PM Local Time
“So, Crystal, are you beginning to feel the pressure, yet? Because I certainly am.”
[Scene opens in the living room of the Nest, with Wendy sitting on the sofa. Now that she’s back in the land of central air conditioning, Wendy’s garb’s swung a little bit more conservatively. She smiles gently at the camera, tugging at the purple t-shirt she’s wearing]
“Two days, and the Chase for the Crown Finals will be upon us. It’s been a heck of a ride over the past two months, hasn’t it? Twice, we’ve teamed together, and we stood triumphant. We faced Kassandra in a triple-threat match, and the two of us emerged as the finalists. And now, finally, we’ve come to the end of the road. In just a little over forty-eight hours, you and I will get into that ring, and for one of us, all the hard work we’ve put in over the past two months will finally pay off. For the other, only an empty feeling will remain. The feeling of one who had come so close, only to let it all slip away at the end.”
“I can’t say I’ve grown to like you over the past couple of months, Crystal. Even before we were teammates, your rather... narcissistic approach to things has annoyed me. But I’ve come to respect you, at least as a fellow competitor. For all your self-aggrandizing, you know your way around a ring. You’ve earned your place in this match, just as I’ve earned mine.”
[Wendy shakes her head, looking fairly exasperated]
“So why is it that you’re unable to respect me? Or pretty much anyone else for that matter?”
“I’ve bit my tongue the past two months, Crystal. I sat by, idle, as you insulted pretty much everyone in FFW who’s had the misfortune of capturing your attention. There isn’t a wrestler you’ve stepped in the ring with that you haven’t claimed ‘sucked’. There isn’t a woman you’ve looked at that you haven’t dismissed as inferior. And unfortunately, for the past four months, you’ve gotten away with it.”
[Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, before narrowing her eyes]
“I think it’s about time that stopped, because there’s no way in HELL I’m going to let a narcissistic, delusional child with no sense of perspective or self-awareness keep me from accomplishing the goals I’ve worked so hard towards.”
[Meowzclawz!]
“What you did in Indianapolis was aggravating, Crystal. But it was fair play, and it was actually masterfully done. You goldbricked, you suckered me into a false sense of security, you kicked me, and took the pin for yourself. You got me, Crystal, bravo, well-done.”
“But thinking that you beat me in my hometown is just one of the many, MANY mistakes you’ve made concerning me.”
[Small shrug]
“If you want to count it as a victory for yourself, and a loss for me, go ahead. Crystal’s six and oh, Wendy’s four and two, and if this were a league, you’d be enjoying a two match advantage. But it’s not. You and I are in the exact same position, regardless of what you want to make of my record. We’re wrestling for the exact same thing here. And you want to know why I can beat you in Minneapolis when I couldn’t in my hometown?”
[Wendy smiles slightly, and raises her eyebrows]
“It’s simple, Crystal. As much as I would have liked to have been the one walking out with the glory in Indy, I didn’t NEED to beat you. All I needed to do was not take the fall, and get to the finals. I got through, and that’s ultimately all that matters. And again, it all comes down to this. I *NEED* to beat you in Minneapolis. And so I will.”
“Since the format of this tournament was revealed, I had a feeling that if I made the finals, you would be the one standing across from me. And I think that you had the same sense, as well. After all, even while the three of us were still a team, you started taking pot shots at me. Talking about my parent’s careers, my time as a theater director, like somehow its insulting to me.”
[For the first time all promo, Wendy actually looks annoyed, and her eyes narrow, and she leans forward]
“Let’s get something straight, Crystal. My opinion of my parents, particularly of my father, is actually a heck of a lot lower than yours, and it has absolutely nothing to do with their careers. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter, because you are the last person on the PLANET I desire to get into a discussion about my relatives with.”
[Wendy’s voice softens somewhat, and she leans back again, a small smile on her face]
“As for my time as the MCTT director? I couldn’t be prouder of it. Was it the most glamorous job? No. But I got to do something I love doing. And I’m proud that four of my students ended up attending college on acting scholarships. But I’m equally proud of the fact that I was able to get everyone who wanted to be a part of it involved, no matter how well they sang, or danced, or read lines. Do you know what that’s like, Crystal? To spend hours upon hours of hard work, and watch, admist the chaos, as a thing of beauty is created? Something that you know is bigger than you alone? Something that you’re just proud to be a part of?”
[A short chuckle, and Wendy shakes her head]
“Of course, I forgot who I was talking to, there’s nothing in the world bigger than Crystal Hilton, right? You’re the star, and we’re all just the untalented bit players here to make you look even greater, right?”
“You can attack my parents, my career path, even the color of my skin all you want, because it ultimately means little, especially coming from a woman like you. It took me a long time, but I’ve come to grips with the trials of my past, and there’s nothing you can say that will tarnish the triumphs I’ve had.”
“But let’s get back to the reason why we’re both heading to Minneapolis in a couple of days. We’re not going for a beauty contest. We’re not going to see who has the more perfect life. We’re going for a wrestling match. And whatever you, the commentators, the fans, even our own boss, might say on the matter, the ultimate fact is that I’ve got every bit as much of a chance to walk out of this match the winner.”
“And you know this, don’t you? Beneath your smug exterior, beneath your constant recital of your mythical book, or your clever false compliments, you know that there’s someone out there that can bring you down. There’s someone that can, and will expose you for the mere mortal you are. And I think you know that there’s a good chance that person might be me.”
[Another deep breath, and Wendy leans forward, that fire of determination once again burning in her emerald eyes]
“I want to beat you, Crystal, and I don’t think it’s just because you’re the one thing blocking me from a victory in the Chase for the Crown. This has become personal for me. Not a vendetta- I dislike your attitude, but you’re hardly a woman who warrant’s hatred. It’s become... a trial almost. It makes sense- you certainly are a trying woman to listen to.”
“And I do want to shut you up. I want to force some sense of perspective into you, so that you can drop this whole ‘lookee me, I’m perfect!’ facade you’ve wrapped yourself in, and expose you for what you are- a human being.”
[Small pause, Wendy looks away for just a second, and when she speaks, her voice is softer]
“But most of all, Crystal, I want to beat you, because I want to be what you believe you are.”
“I’ve been thinking over the past couple of days, Crystal. What is it that makes you and I so different? We both have a husband, we both have a daughter. I think both of us live very good lives. So why is it that we seem to be almost opposites?”
“I think many would think it’s a contrast of arrogance and humility, but that’s wrong. See, I am an arrogant woman. I have big dreams, and I know I can achieve them. And when it comes to this sport, I want to do it myself- without help, without cheating, without controversy. And while I may not be the most boastful, I can assure you there is no shortage of ego and pride running in my veins.”
“Nor is it the immaculate versus the flawed, because, as much as you will deny it, neither of us are perfect. My flaws are numerous, and unfortunately becoming more and more documented as time goes by. And while you desperately tries to hide hers, every so often, and it’s a lot more common than you might think, she slips, and a glaring weakness is revealed. Besides, if you were truly perfect, no one would ever be able to land a move on you. You’d never be caught off-guard, you’d never be hit, you’d never be forced to kick out of a pinfall. All that has happened.”
“Nor do I think the difference between us is truth and lies. I think both of us believe that we are what we say we are, even if your perspective is a little warped.”
“So what’s the difference between us, Crystal?”
[Another pause, and a small smile]
“When it comes to wrestling, and our ability, I simply have set higher standards for myself.”
[Fade]
13 July, AD 2011
Last night was one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve had in a long time. Cody and Scarlett’s new house in Turtle Bay is a wonderful dwelling for the young couple. It has a lovely view of the East River, and is in close proximity to much of Manhattan’s best areas. Scarlett was such an amazing hostess as well. For all the success she’s had at her young age, it’s nice to see that she’s remained grounded, and true to herself. I hope she stays that way- New York has a tendency to change you, and rarely for the better.
But our brief venture to the Big Apple has come with a price. Namely, catching a red-eye from La Guardia and arriving back in Indianapolis at three o’clock this morning. I couldn’t even begin to remember when the last time I slept until noon was.
Unfortunately, with my match against Crystal Hilton looming, I can hardly give myself a day off. After I finish breakfast (or lunch), it’s off to the gym. My desire to beat Crystal is slowly but surely surpassing that of me just wanting to win the Chase for the Crown. It’s becoming personal, something that always makes me a little uncomfortable. But God, she’s got such an annoying, braggadocios personality, I really, REALLY want to shut that woman up. I can’t really bear the thought of losing to her. Not because she’s a bad wrestler, but because I know if I do, she’d NEVER shut up about it.
Pollaski’s also supposed to come over this evening. I guess he’s got a merchandising idea he wants to run by me. I’m intrigued- he said it was something that can be used to benefit the Komen foundation, but he won’t tell me exactly what he’s working on. That also worries me- Pollaski doesn’t have the best history in the world when it comes to merchandising ideas. I still haven’t quite forgiven him over the licensed pencil sharpener he had produced, even if he’s promised that he learned the valuable lesson that ‘hole placement matters’.
And through all this build-up, my mind keeps wandering back to the conversation I had with Andrea last Saturday night. Did Wesley really wreck Terrence in retaliation for my accusations? Was Andrea just bluffing to get under my skin? Did Wes just mean to bump him, or spin him out, and things got out of control? I keep trying to think about it from all possible angles, but nothing’s made my mind any easier.
Even worse, I won’t be attending Terrence’s race at the Iowa Speedway. It’s Saturday- the same day as Breaking Point, and while he’s racing, I’ll be a couple hundred miles to the north in Minneapolis. This is the first time since Terrence retired and I joined FFW that we have had to separate. I’d always known that it was a possibility- even an inevitability, but still, that it’s coming this week, when so much has gone wrong over the past fortnight, screams ‘bad omen’ to me.
Which I guess is silly. Whatever happens in the ring will happen, there’s not a thing Terrence can do about it, just as I have no control over how Terrence’s races end up. But when you’re married, you want to be there for your spouse, whether its a triumph or a tribulation. At least until Terrence comes to pick me up Saturday Night the both of us are on our own. I’ll have Pollaski of course, but that’s hardly the same thing.
I haven’t even told Terrence about Andrea’s comments to me, and I don’t know if I should. Terry’s been so adamant about not causing friction between himself and Hamilton- it’s too obvious who the team would support in a feud. And if I press him on it, that’ll just create unnecessary friction between us. So maybe it’s better that I keep my mouth shut. After all, isn’t that what Andrea wants me to do?
No, I have to at least let him know. The last time I kept a concern of mine from Terrence, it nearly blew up our world and almost caused our marriage to fall apart. Even if I annoy him today, there’s no way I can risk jeopardizing the future of this family because I’m afraid. Terrence is always telling me that I have too little trust in him. I guess this is a good time to show a bit more.
I just pray that through all of this, somehow, someway, it all works out for the best in the end. It seems like in some aspects, that’s all I really can do.
- WCBT
========================================================
Wednesday July 13, 2011
The Nest- Front Entry
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:13 PM Local Time
“Out! Out! OUT!”
Pollaski turned around as I shoved him out the front door of my house, and stood on the front porch. He shrugged half-hearted in apology, and gave me a lopsided grin. “Don’t you wanna hear my idea about the cookies?”
*SLAM!*
I turned around and leaned back against the door. Through the portal, I could hear my manager’s muffled, yet cheerful ‘see you tomorrow’, followed several seconds later by the sound of his car starting. I shook my head, and puffed an errant strand of hair from my face. As much as I liked Pollaski, and as useful as he was to me, there were some moments where the man was more than I could possibly handle.
This was one of those moments.
With a grunt of frustration, I pushed myself away from the door and walked back into the living room, then the dining room. On the table were the current objects of my frustration- five half-gallon milk cartons that served as the prototype for Pollaski’s latest brain sprain.
I thought the idea of FFW teaming with Lucerne Dairy to produce FFW branded milk was a novel idea, especially since the proposal Pollaski was planning on making to Mr. Kincaid had the proceeds to be donated to the Susan B. Komen Foundation. The cartons would carry the FFW logo, as well as a promotional shot of various FFW superstars, depending on the type of milk contained within the carton.
Less amusing was that the five wrestlers Pollaski had chosen were mothers. That in itself was hardly offensive, but when coupled with altering the Lucerne ‘MILK’ logo so that the final letter was an ‘F’, things took a rather abrupt turn for the tasteless. Especially when Pollaski seemed to have gotten the most racy photos possible of the various wrestlers- including one of me that I’m pretty sure was NOT a part of my promotional portfolio.
At least the plans were for half-gallon cartons. I could almost cringe at the thought of these things being sold in school cafeterias.
I picked up my carton again, and grimaced. Crystal Hilton had been placed on the chocolate MIL- carton. Camilla Pazzini was on the whole, while Valerie Belmont and Katherine Stryfe had been placed on the two-percent and one-percent, respectively. I was on the skim.
It was fairly impossible to miss the connotations behind that.
“They’re not that small!” I groused under my breath. I was middle of the pack among the FFW superstars for both height and weight, and my dimensional proportions were MORE than adequate for my size! My physician even said so!
“What was all that yelling and banging?” I looked up from my moping to see my husband sweeping into the dining room, looking concerned. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Was just seeing Pollaski out,” I said simply, but my husband was already distracted.
“Oh, nice! I’m thirsty!” Terrence grabbed the chocolate milk off the table, and opened it, tilting his throat back and seemingly poring half the carton down in one gulp. He slammed it down on the table, wiping his mouth. “Ah, that hit the spot! The garage is really dusty.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have some nice SKIM milk?” I offered, clenching my teeth.
“Nah, skim’s boring. Hey, what’s Crystal Hilton’s picture doing on here? And why does it say MIL-”
“Because Pollaski’s an idiot!” I snapped, cutting my husband off. Terrence took a step back, clearly nonplussed. For the first time, Terrence seemed to notice the carton I was holding.
“Hey you got one too!”
He reached out for it, and I tossed it to him, rolling my eyes. Terrence looked it over for a few seconds, before looking up and grinning. “Hey, I remember this photo! You texted it to me the morning of my birthday!”
“I know, I remember,” I responded, trying to keep my voice light. “So how did it end up THERE?”
Terrence looked puzzled for a second, then comprehension and rememberance lit up his features. “Oh... Ooooohhhhhhhhh! Yeah, I meant to tell you about that.”
“Tell me about WHAT?”
“That they really shouldn’t put the ‘save’ button and the ‘forward to all contacts’ button so close together.”
“Terrence...” I growled.
“Sorry!” Terrence replied quickly, although he was half-grinning. “For the record, you were really popular with the guys in the garage for a couple weeks.”
“I bet,” I responded icily, crossing my arms over my chest. At least the mystery of how Pollaski had gotten the photo was solved.
A long uncomfortable silence lingered in the dining room, before Terrence began to gather the unopened milk cartons in his hands. He went around the table, easily skirting my location, heading to the kitchen.
“Oh, by the way, I got us a reservation for Theresa’s birthday at Chuck E. Cheeze’s in Des Moines. Not a big party, but it should do for the five of us.”
“Oh, good,” I smiled, willing to let the matter of the MIL- cartons drop for the time being. My smile was short lived, however, and I sighed. “I wish we could hold it here, like we did last year.”
“Yeah, well,” Terrence said, shutting the fridge. “Unfortunately duty calls the both of us.” He went to shrug, but then visibly grimaced and rubbed his shoulder.
I was suddenly alarmed. “Are you okay?”
Terrence changed his rubbing to look like he was scratching an itch, and scoffed, as if my question was ridiculous. “Of course I am. Are you okay?”
“Your shoulder’s hurting again,” I insisted, looking directly into my husband’s eyes. Even though all his x-rays and tests had returned negative after his accident at Berlin, several times I had caught him rubbing his shoulder. “You should get it looked at.”
“I’m fine,” Terrence said, rolling his eyes. “Just a little stiff from the garage, that’s all.”
“Terry, this isn’t the first-”
“Look, I’m medically cleared, okay? That’s all that matters.”
“The hell it is!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “Terrence, if you’re hurt, then you shouldn’t be driving at Iowa! No one’s going to think any less of you if-”
“Wendy, I guarantee you that I have less sore spots than you do, okay? We’re in high impact sports, bumps and bruises go with the territory. And I’m not going to sit out a nationally televised race unless I’m ordered to, so just DROP IT, okay?”
I bristled, but bit my lip. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Wiithout a word, I turned, and threw open the nearest cupboard, using the guise of trying to decide what I wanted to make for dinner as an excuse to not look at my stubborn husband. Of course, Terrence was a bit more perceptive than that.
“Wendy, is everything alright? You’ve been dropping hints all week that you don’t want me going to Iowa. Hell, you even asked me to skip the race to accompany you to ringside, and you normally hate it when I’m in your corner.”
It was true enough. Terrence was a great husband, and was a fantastic wrestler in his own right, but I generally found him more irritating than helpful in a corner position. Pollaski had a knack for knowing what buttons to push, and when to push them, and was actually very perceptive and helpful on advice. Terrence just yelled inane encouragement like ‘you can do it!’ and ‘come on!”.
But I’d be way more comfortable with him at ringside than I would him on the track this week. Now was as good as any a time to tell him why.
“The night you crashed,” I began, turning around and leaning against the counter. “I ran into Andrea while leaving the hospital. She told me your accident... well, wasn’t an accident.”
Terrence eyebrows arched, and he looked at me skeptically. “She said that? She flat out told you that Wesley wrecked me on purpose?”
I grimaced. “Not... verbatim. But if you read between the lines...”
“Nah, no way.” Terrence responded. “You probably were just tired, and misunderstood her. Hon, I talked to Wes, and no one felt worse about the accident than him. Maybe he meant to give me a bump, but he never meant for it to get out of control like that. What exactly did she tell you, do you remember?”
“That me ‘running my mouth’ produced bad karma, which caused you to crash. And the next time my ‘negative energy’ caused you to crash, it would be a far worse outcome.” I paused for a second. “It sounded like a threat to me.”
Terrence bit his lower lip, drumming his fingers on the table. Finally, he shrugged. “I dunno, hon.” I started to protest, but he held up a hand to silence me. “I’m sure she said what you heard, but it was probably adrenaline fueling her. Wesley had just won the race, and she was on top of the world, while you had a miserable night. She felt victorious, and vindictive, and you just happened to be there. I don’t think she likes you.”
“Tell me about it,” I groused.
“But ultimately, this changes nothing, Wendy. Andrea can be as wretched as she wants to be- she’s not the one getting in the car. And neither are you, for that matter. And I’d rather not be playing bumper cars week after week with Wes because our wives don’t like each other.”
I snorted in disdain. “If she were a wrestler, I’d have challenged her to a match for those words, and I would have slapped her in the Banshee until she begged for mercy. No one threatens my family.”
Terrence smirked, and paused, as if he was enjoying the mental image. But then he shrugged, “Well, she’s not. So you two are going to have to figure out a way to iron things out in a more civilized manner. But it ain’t going to the track. Remember, your world, my world. We agreed on that, and I really need for you to respect that, and trust me to do the right thing. Do you trust me?”
I paused for a long second, before finally nodding. “I trust you,” I said.
I really didn’t have much of a choice.
I just hoped it didn’t lead to me becoming a widow by the end of the season.
=====================================
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana; 8:10 PM Local Time
“So, Crystal, are you beginning to feel the pressure, yet? Because I certainly am.”
[Scene opens in the living room of the Nest, with Wendy sitting on the sofa. Now that she’s back in the land of central air conditioning, Wendy’s garb’s swung a little bit more conservatively. She smiles gently at the camera, tugging at the purple t-shirt she’s wearing]
“Two days, and the Chase for the Crown Finals will be upon us. It’s been a heck of a ride over the past two months, hasn’t it? Twice, we’ve teamed together, and we stood triumphant. We faced Kassandra in a triple-threat match, and the two of us emerged as the finalists. And now, finally, we’ve come to the end of the road. In just a little over forty-eight hours, you and I will get into that ring, and for one of us, all the hard work we’ve put in over the past two months will finally pay off. For the other, only an empty feeling will remain. The feeling of one who had come so close, only to let it all slip away at the end.”
“I can’t say I’ve grown to like you over the past couple of months, Crystal. Even before we were teammates, your rather... narcissistic approach to things has annoyed me. But I’ve come to respect you, at least as a fellow competitor. For all your self-aggrandizing, you know your way around a ring. You’ve earned your place in this match, just as I’ve earned mine.”
[Wendy shakes her head, looking fairly exasperated]
“So why is it that you’re unable to respect me? Or pretty much anyone else for that matter?”
“I’ve bit my tongue the past two months, Crystal. I sat by, idle, as you insulted pretty much everyone in FFW who’s had the misfortune of capturing your attention. There isn’t a wrestler you’ve stepped in the ring with that you haven’t claimed ‘sucked’. There isn’t a woman you’ve looked at that you haven’t dismissed as inferior. And unfortunately, for the past four months, you’ve gotten away with it.”
[Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, before narrowing her eyes]
“I think it’s about time that stopped, because there’s no way in HELL I’m going to let a narcissistic, delusional child with no sense of perspective or self-awareness keep me from accomplishing the goals I’ve worked so hard towards.”
[Meowzclawz!]
“What you did in Indianapolis was aggravating, Crystal. But it was fair play, and it was actually masterfully done. You goldbricked, you suckered me into a false sense of security, you kicked me, and took the pin for yourself. You got me, Crystal, bravo, well-done.”
“But thinking that you beat me in my hometown is just one of the many, MANY mistakes you’ve made concerning me.”
[Small shrug]
“If you want to count it as a victory for yourself, and a loss for me, go ahead. Crystal’s six and oh, Wendy’s four and two, and if this were a league, you’d be enjoying a two match advantage. But it’s not. You and I are in the exact same position, regardless of what you want to make of my record. We’re wrestling for the exact same thing here. And you want to know why I can beat you in Minneapolis when I couldn’t in my hometown?”
[Wendy smiles slightly, and raises her eyebrows]
“It’s simple, Crystal. As much as I would have liked to have been the one walking out with the glory in Indy, I didn’t NEED to beat you. All I needed to do was not take the fall, and get to the finals. I got through, and that’s ultimately all that matters. And again, it all comes down to this. I *NEED* to beat you in Minneapolis. And so I will.”
“Since the format of this tournament was revealed, I had a feeling that if I made the finals, you would be the one standing across from me. And I think that you had the same sense, as well. After all, even while the three of us were still a team, you started taking pot shots at me. Talking about my parent’s careers, my time as a theater director, like somehow its insulting to me.”
[For the first time all promo, Wendy actually looks annoyed, and her eyes narrow, and she leans forward]
“Let’s get something straight, Crystal. My opinion of my parents, particularly of my father, is actually a heck of a lot lower than yours, and it has absolutely nothing to do with their careers. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter, because you are the last person on the PLANET I desire to get into a discussion about my relatives with.”
[Wendy’s voice softens somewhat, and she leans back again, a small smile on her face]
“As for my time as the MCTT director? I couldn’t be prouder of it. Was it the most glamorous job? No. But I got to do something I love doing. And I’m proud that four of my students ended up attending college on acting scholarships. But I’m equally proud of the fact that I was able to get everyone who wanted to be a part of it involved, no matter how well they sang, or danced, or read lines. Do you know what that’s like, Crystal? To spend hours upon hours of hard work, and watch, admist the chaos, as a thing of beauty is created? Something that you know is bigger than you alone? Something that you’re just proud to be a part of?”
[A short chuckle, and Wendy shakes her head]
“Of course, I forgot who I was talking to, there’s nothing in the world bigger than Crystal Hilton, right? You’re the star, and we’re all just the untalented bit players here to make you look even greater, right?”
“You can attack my parents, my career path, even the color of my skin all you want, because it ultimately means little, especially coming from a woman like you. It took me a long time, but I’ve come to grips with the trials of my past, and there’s nothing you can say that will tarnish the triumphs I’ve had.”
“But let’s get back to the reason why we’re both heading to Minneapolis in a couple of days. We’re not going for a beauty contest. We’re not going to see who has the more perfect life. We’re going for a wrestling match. And whatever you, the commentators, the fans, even our own boss, might say on the matter, the ultimate fact is that I’ve got every bit as much of a chance to walk out of this match the winner.”
“And you know this, don’t you? Beneath your smug exterior, beneath your constant recital of your mythical book, or your clever false compliments, you know that there’s someone out there that can bring you down. There’s someone that can, and will expose you for the mere mortal you are. And I think you know that there’s a good chance that person might be me.”
[Another deep breath, and Wendy leans forward, that fire of determination once again burning in her emerald eyes]
“I want to beat you, Crystal, and I don’t think it’s just because you’re the one thing blocking me from a victory in the Chase for the Crown. This has become personal for me. Not a vendetta- I dislike your attitude, but you’re hardly a woman who warrant’s hatred. It’s become... a trial almost. It makes sense- you certainly are a trying woman to listen to.”
“And I do want to shut you up. I want to force some sense of perspective into you, so that you can drop this whole ‘lookee me, I’m perfect!’ facade you’ve wrapped yourself in, and expose you for what you are- a human being.”
[Small pause, Wendy looks away for just a second, and when she speaks, her voice is softer]
“But most of all, Crystal, I want to beat you, because I want to be what you believe you are.”
“I’ve been thinking over the past couple of days, Crystal. What is it that makes you and I so different? We both have a husband, we both have a daughter. I think both of us live very good lives. So why is it that we seem to be almost opposites?”
“I think many would think it’s a contrast of arrogance and humility, but that’s wrong. See, I am an arrogant woman. I have big dreams, and I know I can achieve them. And when it comes to this sport, I want to do it myself- without help, without cheating, without controversy. And while I may not be the most boastful, I can assure you there is no shortage of ego and pride running in my veins.”
“Nor is it the immaculate versus the flawed, because, as much as you will deny it, neither of us are perfect. My flaws are numerous, and unfortunately becoming more and more documented as time goes by. And while you desperately tries to hide hers, every so often, and it’s a lot more common than you might think, she slips, and a glaring weakness is revealed. Besides, if you were truly perfect, no one would ever be able to land a move on you. You’d never be caught off-guard, you’d never be hit, you’d never be forced to kick out of a pinfall. All that has happened.”
“Nor do I think the difference between us is truth and lies. I think both of us believe that we are what we say we are, even if your perspective is a little warped.”
“So what’s the difference between us, Crystal?”
[Another pause, and a small smile]
“When it comes to wrestling, and our ability, I simply have set higher standards for myself.”
[Fade]
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