Tuesday August 21
Plaza 71 Business Park- Parking Lot
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:10 PM Local Time
It was a nice clear day as Wendy Briese pulled her Vespa into the parking lot of the business complex, and finding a compact parking space. Climbing off her bike,, she removed her helmet, setting it on the handlebars as she looked up at the decently sized five story building with the tinted windows that made it resemble an enormous obsidian mirror. It was definitely the right place, she saw, and she took a deep breath.
Almost immediately after her humiliating meltdown in the St. Gregory’s Cathedral, she had called Terrence, and asked him to call and set up an appointment with someone. Between her flying off the handle in Seattle, bursting into tears upon arriving home, and her behavior in Belfast, coupled with innumerable smaller incidents, sometimes, she didn’t even know if she was herself anymore.
She briskly walked across the parking lot, heading towards the entrance doors. She had been uneasy about this whole ‘shrink’ thing, but considering how she was doing on her own, it couldn’t be any worse to just sit down and talk to someone.
As Wendy pushed the button for the elevator, she remembered how nice the boat ride on the River Lagan with her daughter had been (although she had still been somewhat distracted throughout). She hated to admit it, but Pollaski had been right. It would have been a crime had she passed up that opportunity to go sightseeing with her daughter, especially considering that Theresa was back in school now, in her second day of the first grade. Such opportunities like that were a lot rarer when school was in session, especially now that she would be attending for the full day.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped off, quickly walking down the hall. She was alarmed at the butterflies that were settling into her stomach. She wasn’t this nervous before most of her matches, even. That struck her as odd. Why should she be more afraid of a simple psychologists appointment than another woman who was trying to beat her half to death?
The answer came to her as she entered the office, and approached the receptionist to check in, receiving a clipboard of paperwork for her troubles. She was used to people trying to assault her physically. Heck, she’d even had people try and mess with her mind before. But never had she voluntarily asked anyone to try and comb through her brain, laying everything bare to see what was wrong with her. That was… an unsettling prospect.
She busied herself with the paperwork, customary faire any new client of any medical profession. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but it did help take her mind off her anxiety. She finished and turned in the forms to the receptionist, retreating back to her chair, bouncing her knees up and down as she nervously waited.
Luckily she wasn’t kept waiting long.
“Mrs. Thompson, the doctor is ready for you,” the receptionist said, drawing Wendy from her thoughts.
“Thanks,” the red-haired woman replied, standing up and taking a deep breath. Smoothing out her clothes, she walked through the door, into the psychologist’s office.
The office wasn’t very large, with enough room for a couch, and a large stuffed easy chair, which sat in front of the desk, up on which a gold placard set, the word “Jared Epstein, PhD” sitting atop it. The doctor himself, to her surprise, was a younger man, possibly in his mid-forties, with slicked back black hair, and a large nose sitting atop a thin, drawn face.
“Your 3:30 is here, Dr. Epstein,” the receptionist announced, shutting the door behind Wendy.
“Thank you, Maxine.” He added, watching as she closed the door and he arose from his chair. He wheeled around the desk, wearing a black coat and dress shirt atop a pair of jeans. He gave Wendy a smile before he slipped around in front of her. He seemed to size her up for a moment before he wrapped both arms around her and gave her a hug as though he hadn’t seen her in some years. Seeing the surprised expression on her face, he grinned a bit. “Isn’t that how all meetings should start? Instead of the boring and dry introductions, why not give someone a hug! I’m Dr. Epstein, you can call me Jared.”
“Th-thank you, Dr. E... Jared,” Wendy stammered, unsure of what to make of it. She was uneasy enough about this as it was, and the doctor’s overt... friendliness (as polite a term as she could think of) made her even more uncomfortable. “It’s nice to meet you too...”
“Wendy, before we get started, I have something I want you to do.” The doctor moved towards a rather large piece of furniture that resembled more of a makeshift closet. And as he opened the doors, a full clown suit hung inside, complete with red fright wig and a few jars of different colored facepaint. He pulled out a pair of enormously oversized red shoes and closed the door. “Sometimes I do charity work at the childrens’ hospital, kids always ask for a clown or Batman. And clown is easier to do.” He encouraged her to take a seat as he put the oversized red shoes down on the floor beside her feet. “I need you to put these on for me.”
There was a very long pause, as Wendy stared at the shoes. Then up to the doctor. Then down to the shoes again. She didn’t see how in the 81,000 seats of Notre Dame stadium this was going to help her with her problem. For a second, she thought about opening her mouth, telling him, no, and saying that this wasn’t going to possibly work. But... everything she had read about this doctors was just so.. positive. Finally, reluctantly, she slid off her own shoes, and stuck her size 7 feet into the enormous shoes that were too big at least thrice over for her.
“O...kay?” she replied pointing down to them.
At least he wasn’t making her wear the whole clown costume.
Epstein clapped his hands with a smile before going back to the wardrobe and taking out a small foam ball before he closed it back. He moved towards her and placed it on her nose before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs across from her. “It’s impossible to feel uncomfortable in clown shoes and a big red nose. I’ve tried it. Now while we talk, I want you to keep the shoes and the nose on. Those are very important. I figure right now you are probably wondering whether or not you should still be sitting in my office, what with the clown nose and the shoes, right?”
He got back up, and went to his desk and removed a hand mirror that he went back to the chair with and sat across from her. He held it up so she could see herself. “You’re the first person whose hair actually matches my foam nose. Nice!” He seemed impressed by that before he put the mirror down. “So Wendy, nothing we talk about leaves this office. You have complete confidentiality, and I want you to feel at ease. If you feel like laying down on the couch there, that’s fine. Whatever helps you. But I get to keep the shoes. It’s hard to find 34 triple EEE these days.”
“I will attempt to refrain from taking them, Dr... Jared,” Wendy responded dryly, wincing a little. The nose was itchy, and starting to tickle. She gamely tried to ignore it, and keep it on. She didn’t lie down, but remained on the couch, trying to cross her legs- abandoning the attempt due to the massive shoes. “So... what do we do here?”
“Well you came here to talk about some recent events that have taken place in your life. I know it wasn’t for the free clown shoes. So...” He leaned back into his chair a bit, crossing his legs instead almost as though he were mocking her subconsciously. “You strike me as a woman whom doesn’t come to see people like myself too often, so something must have triggered it. Why don’t you tell me what that is?” His face showed great interest before he pointed down to her right shoe. “Your shoe’s untied. Go ahead.”
“Oh. Well,” Wendy bent over to tie the shoe. “I... really don’t know where to begin. But, to sum it up, my father kidnapped me and tried to kill me, and a terrorist killed him, and I killed the terrorist.” She looked back up, grimacing. “And my husband... well... everyone thinks I might be dealign with Post-traumatic stress or something... so I agreed to talk to you.”
“Well that wouldn’t surprise me. But I’m willing to bet it’s not the case.” He leaned forward a bit in his chair, clasping his hands together as he watched her. “Sounds like you have been through some very traumatic events though. Tell me about your father. Why did he want to kill you?” As he listened, he leaned down and picked up her nose off the floor before handing it back to her. “Dropped this... Go on.”
Wendy took the nose, and put it back on (liberally scratching her nose before she did). “He thinks I betrayed him... and I guess in a way. I kind of did.”
She paused for a second, and sighed. “Ever since I was born, my dad... well, both my parents, really... had it in mind that I was going to be some great actress. They were both Broadway stars, so they figured their kids would be... and I’m serious about this- the greatest stage performer who ever lived. They pushed me towards it, giving me the best tutors, and sending me to a school with the best drama program, and... it was almost like an obsession for him.”
“At first it was fun. I mean, can you imagine being told every day you were the second coming of Katherine Hepburn and Julie Andrews all rolled into one? I thought I was special.. but the more I grew up, the more I realized.. I was pretty much just like everyone else. And it all just stopped being so fun, until it became like a chore. And when my dad found out I threw it all away to take up wrestling... he wasn’t very happy. He thought I threw away everything he’d given me, and even worse, I did it for something he thought was humiliating to him.”
“I think at first, he was just trying to drive me from the sport, but the more I resisted, the more bitter he came about it, until he flat out hated me, and wanted me out of the picture. I don’t know.” She finished, sighing. “But evidently being in prison made him even more bitter.”
“Well it sounds to me like if you had done what he had wanted, you would have betrayed yourself more than anyone. I assume you enjoy what you do, you’d have to in order to make the sacrifices you have already told me you made to do it. Sometimes it’s hard to live up to what your parents want for you, and they don’t always know what’s best. My parents wanted me to be a senator. But that wasn’t what I wanted. And disappointing your parents, it’s hard. But disappointing yourself, that’s the hardest thing to live with.”
Wendy snorted. “Tell me about it,” she said, sighing.
“But for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. You did what made you happy. And it sounds like there was no way that you could make your father happy, not without selling yourself short for the rest of your life. We’ve just met, Wendy, but...” He got up and sat next to her now. “I already respect you.”
“Even if you do dress like a clown.” He squeezed her nose, making it squeak and causing a smile to form on his face.
Wendy smiled, and even chuckled as her nose reinflated back to its normal size. “Thanks. And you know, everyone’s told me that. Heck, I try to tell myself that I did the right thing. But, you know, there’s moments when you see the consequences, and you think, was it all worth it after all?”
“If it makes you happy, there’s not too many risks in life not worth taking. And you seem happy to me. I’ll tell you what we are going to do. I want to show you something. If you decide to schedule another session with me, we are going to go on a little field trip to see a play. And then after that, we are going to see you at your chosen profession. I want to show you just how right you are in the choice you have made. And I promise you won’t have to wear the shoes in either place.”
“O..okay. Thanks.” Wendy said lamely, looking down. “I don’t really think I’d be able to compete thin these things.,” she said wryly, looking at them. “But.. what play?”
“There’s a revival of Tennessee Williams going on next Tuesday night. I am sure you have seen the Glass Menagerie.”
“Of course!” Wendy said, smiling. “It’s one of my favorites!”
“I’ll get us a couple tickets and you and I will go see the performance. I just want to prove something to you that I think you already know. That you didn’t betray your father, he betrayed you. Because no parent should ever not want to see their child happy. And we are going to show you just how right of a decision you made. Sound good?” He asked, with a positive and expectant tone to his voice.
“It’s a date!” Wendy said, then blushed crimson. “Well, you know.. not really... but yeah... I’ll be there.”
He was about to speak again when his office door opened, and his secretary stuck her head in. “Your 4:30 is here, Dr. Epstein.” She glanced over to Wendy in her shoes and nose, blinking a moment and closing the door back as she exited.
“Maxine’s just jealous because the shoes look better on you.” He gave her a wink with an infectious grin to follow.
“Um, thanks?” Wendy replied as she quickly untied the shoes, slipping her own back on. “Well, Doctor, thank you for your time today,” she said formally, rising to her feet, and holding out her hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Wendy.” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze when the joy buzzer attached to his palm went off. The smile remained after. “See you Tuesday.”
“Yeah. See you Tuesday.” Wendy responded, shaking her hand as she did so. She turned and exited the room, leaving Dr. Jared Epstein behind her. She got on the elevator, grabbing calling Terrence as the doors reopened and she stepped off at the bottom.
“How did it go?” Terrence asked her as he answered the phone.
“It… wasn’t what I expected,” Wendy replied.
“Well, do you feel any better?”
Wendy paused, contemplating the question, being surprised by her own answer. “Yeah… I do.”
“Awesome. Guess you’ll be going back then. I’ll see you when you get home, hon.”
“Okay.” Wendy replied, turning around and looking back at the building she had just left. She shook her head in disbelief, laughing to herself, as she plucked up her helmet, and climbed back onto her bike.
She'd be going back, indeed.
=====================
Saturday August 25, 2012
Shinjuku Gyoen Park- West Lily Pond
Tokyo, Japan
11:09 AM Local Time
About three and a half miles southwest of the Tokyo Dome lies Shinjuku Gyoen Park. Constructed during Japan’s famed Edo period, the park used to be the gardens of the imperial royal family until it was destroyed during World War II, at which time it was rebuilt and turned into a public land. Most famed for the thousands of people that flock to the park every March and April for hanamis- celebrations of flowers as the 1,500 cherry trees in the park explode into blossom- even in August the park serves as a lovely attraction and backdrop.
At least Wendy thinks so. The No Surrender Champion is leaning against a fence as we fade in, a pond nearly completely covered in water lilies behind her. It’s a rather warm day in Tokyo, with temperatures pushng towards the nineties, enough to push away some sense of Wendy’s modesty. She is dressed in a pair of knee length shorts and sandals, along with a short sleeved light blue t-shirt. Her arms, legs, and face are all glistening, thanks to the usual copious amount of suntan lotion spread on all her exposed skin.
Despite the heat, not to mention that even with the sunscreen, she could darn well be a crimson peeling mess by belltime, Wendy seems to be in good spirits as she smiles at the camera.
“I can’t believe it’s been nearly eight years since I’ve been here to Japan. It… doesn’t seem nearly that long since I was in Saitama for the All-Asia Tag Team Championship tournament. But, either way it feels good to finally be back here, competing in the Land of the Rising Sun once again.”
“Although I will confess, I’m glad that this is the final stop of the World Tour. I’ve enjoyed it, for the most part, getting to go to such great cities as Sydney, and Cologne, and London, and, of course here. And the crowds, everywhere, they’ve been so tremendous. But after three months of either flying halfway around the world to head to a show, or flying halfway around the world to go back home, I can’t complain that we’re going back to doing domestic shows for a while.”
A small smile, as Wendy pushes herself away from the fence.
“But here we are, one more night abroad, and it’s in what many consider to be the world mecca of professional wrestling. Tokyo, Japan, where women have been competing at the highest level long before anyone thought to let us Americans do it. And we close our tour with about as awesome a show as anyone could ask for. Eight matches crammed into three hours, including a Future Shock cash in, a massive eight woman tag match… and three matches that will be a third contest between the two individuals.”
“I’m of course, in one of the latter, against Crystal Hilton. Last July, I beat Crystal in the finals of the Chase for the Crown. Two months later, she beat me two out of three falls for both the Evolution Championship, and to gain a berth in the Femme For All tournament. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a devastating loss at the time, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t still bothered by it, even now, eleven months later. Everyone points to it, and says what a great match it was. It was nominated for match of the year, and from what I heard, came close to winning. But all I remember from it, all that ever mattered to me is that I knew I should have been the one walking out of that match the winner.”
“I blew it. Plain and simple. Instead of capitalizing on an injury to my opponent, I tried to do the ‘sporting’ thing, and got burned for it. I expended too much energy trying to break even, and ran out of steam the third fall. And while I’ve gained so much more than I had in the months since, I left Detroit that night feeling as if I’d lost everything.”
Wendy grimaces, biting her lip. Obviously, the memory is leaving a pretty bitter taste in her mouth.
“Over the past couple of months, I’ve done a pretty good job in responding to some of the blemishes I received over the course of my FFW career. Kaitlynn Stryfe handed me my first loss last July, I came back and beat her in March. Starla McCloud took the No Surrender Championship from me in March, I won it back with flying colors in May. I gained infamy as the shortest reigning Evolution Champion in company history- and then a month ago I came back to be the first Femme Fatale to win that championship twice.”
“My win over Tara was by far the biggest of my FFW career. It’s one of the biggest wins I’ve had in any company I’d ever worked for. And to hold that Evolution Championship in my arms again, to claim it as mine, even if it was just for another fleeting fortnight… it erased so much of what happened last September. So much, but not all.”
Wendy breaks into a smile that one might almost think as predatory.
“And that’s where tonight comes in.”
“One more time, Wendy Briese vs. Crystal Hilton. One more time, a possible match of the year candidate. One more time… and this time, I’m not going to screw it up.”
Wendy sighs, and bites her lip.
“Crystal, I understand that you’re going through a tough time. I know a lot of people haven’t taken what happened to Todd seriously, my manager included among them. But I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to see your husband lying in a hospital bed because someone you had a rivalry with decided to use them to get at you. I know what it’s like to feel that anger and helplessness. And believe me, I know what it’s like to be trying to wrestle straight after having one of the low points in your whole life. I hope Todd pulls through, Crystal. And I hope that beating Rori brings some sense of satisfaction, even if it won’t heal the wounds entirely.”
“That’s why I offered you a chance to postpone this. To push it back until your head was more clear, and you didn’t have so much going on in your personal life. You declined, which I respect. But that means no excuses, Crystal. No sympathy. No quarter asked or given, Crystal. And that includes me standing here, in front of this camera.”
Wendy pauses and takes a deep breath, looking out over the lily pond.
“I noticed several times over the past couple of weeks on Twitter you’ve tried to extend an olive branch of some sorts to me. I get tweets such as ‘let’s just have a good match’, and ‘let’s put it all behind us’. You may have noticed that I haven’t really replied to these. There’s a reason for that, and I think by now you know what it is. I’ve been hesitant to say it, because you’ve shown time and again your inability to cope with rejection. But since we’re going to be fighting in a couple hours anyways… what the heck.”
“I *don’t* want an olive branch from you, Crystal. I *don’t* want to be your friend. I *don’t* want to go shopping with you. Quite honestly, unless it’s a requirement for my job, I *don’t* want anything to do with you.”
“I know, it sounds really really mean for me to say it. After all, I’m supposed to be the nice girl. I’m supposed to be the one who forgives and forgets at the drop of a hat. But there comes a point in time, Crystal, where enough is enough, and the pattern becomes just a little too much to ignore. Your words may be honeyed now, Crystal, but your sincerity has been on the same level it’s pretty much always been- nonexistent.”
Wendy’s not exactly looking like she’s enjoying this, but she certainly is getting on a roll here.
“From darn near the first day I set foot in this company, you’ve taken pot shots at me. When we were supposed to be on the same team in the first Chase for the Crown, you instead went around making fun of my acting career. When we were supposed to be on the same team facing the former Evolution Champions, you got onstage and downplayed everything I did in the ring in the first round. During the second round, you constantly disrespected me and Kassandra, and when out of your way to embarrass me in my hometown. After I beat you in the finals, you threw tantrum after tantrum about how overrated I was, and then when we had our rematch, you resorted to petty tricks to get the first fall. After I beat you out for Breakout Star of the year, you threw MORE tantrums, and tried to throw me down the stairs and break my neck, had Isabella Pazzini not intervened. Which by the way, I should point out, makes me, and I can’t have to admit this- indebted to the biggest cancer in wrestling today, because of you. And all the while, through the cheapshots, and potshots, and ATTEMPTED MURDER, I keep getting these little tweets from you ‘so, how are you? We should hang out’”
“So pardon me if I might just be a TEENSY bit annoyed with you, Crystal Hilton.”
“Or Williams, whatever you’re electing to call yourself this week. There’s nothing wrong with keeping your maiden name for in-ring purposes, by the way. I do. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my husband any less. I simply do it because the fans are used to seeing Wendy Briese, and if it suddenly became Wendy Thompson, it might be a bit confusing to some.”
That, and it sounds like a good name for the PTA President, not a world renowned professional wrestler.
“Then again, the fan’s aren’t used to seeing anything from you, are they? Save for inconsistency of course. You love the fans. You hate the fans. You’re a nice person. You’re evil! You’re the Rose Goddess. You’re the Rose Witch! You’re the reflection of perfection! You like Wendy Briese. You hate Wendy Briese! Wendy Briese is overrated. Wendy Briese is the greatest technical wrestler in FFW! You despise Isabella Pazzini and want to hurt her. Isabella Pazzini is your favorite wrestler! You love Will Mackenzie. You love Todd Williams! You hate your sister-in-law. You love your sister-in-law! You’re from Los Angeles. You’re from Detroit! I mean, how in the HECK is anyone supposed to keep up with all this?”
“Who is Crystal Hilton? I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does. I don’t even think YOU know who you are.”
“The only thing I can think of is that you’re a chameleon. You change your colors to either blend in, or stand out, however it suits you at the time. But it just comes off as something so amazingly fake, Crystal. As if you are sitting there, reading some sort of script written by some random stranger, instead of giving us your true feelings on the matter.”
Wendy tugs at her t-shirt, and wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead, although her eyes never leave the camera.
“That’s probably why you act so poorly to criticism or things not going your way, Crystal. And I mean very, poorly. Look at your history of meltdowns and tantrums. You had one because I called you flawed. You had one when I won Breakout Star of the year. You had one on live television where you boldly declared that your own daughter could die in a fire. You had one with your husband last Velocity over the end of your match at Unstoppable. And while I can certainly appreciate the feelings there, and I know the horrifying moment that happened afterward- why on earth would you wait nineteen days to talk about something like that with your husband… and then scream at him on national television? How did that make sense in your mind?”
“Probably the same way it made sense to throw a tantrum and rage-delete your Twitter account after people called you out for saying that Isabella Pazzini your favorite wrestler in FFW. I know, you’re entitled to your opinion, but this bothers the HELL out of me. Even more since you said it again just this past week.”
“What happened to your husband was horrible. There aren’t too many sensible people who would disagree with that. But Isabella Pazzini has done the EXACT SAME THING to FOUR different people! She cracked Stacey Mackenzie’s skull open with a bellhammer, and put her in the hospital for nearly a month! She THREW Jennifer Stryfe off the video wall… and laughed about it! Before Rori turned into a raving lunatic who was trying to kill YOU, Isabella tried to kill HER with a bladed staff! And she orchestrated the attack that ended with Starla breaking Mr. Kincaid’s neck! And that’s just what I can think of off the top of my head.”
“So let me get this straight, Crystal. Rori attacks Todd, and its wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and solemn vows for revenge. But Isabella Pazzini does it to other people… and it’s ‘how’s my favorite wrestler’?”
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW INSANE AND SELFISH THAT IS?!”
Wendy pauses for a couple of seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself down.
“Of course you don’t. If you’ve ever had one consistent thing in your life, it’s your complete lack of understanding of the concept of consequences. Somehow you’ve gotten it into your head that no matter what you’ve done, no matter what your track record is, no matter how mechanical or un-heartfelt it is, simply uttering the words ‘I’m sorry’ should make all the ramifications go away. It doesn’t work that way. It never has, and it never will. True atonement goes FAR beyond a couple of words that are uttered far too often with far too little meaning behind them.”
“But what can I expect from a woman who doesn’t even recognize the consequences of her own wrestling style? From a woman who somehow fails to understand that years and years of jumping off high places and landing hard is torture on your body in the long run, particularly the knees. From a woman who is on the path to spending her later years barely even to move because she cares more about making flashbulbs go off than learning from mistakes- both hers and others?”
Wendy shakes her head sadly.
“And that’s the saddest thing of all, Crystal. That for all of your inconsistency, flip-flopping, and bouncing around, you’re still the exact same woman you were fifteen months ago when you and I started on the Chase for the Crown. A talented, yet self-centered, self-aggrandizing, spotlight-desperate woman who just doesn’t get it, and doesn’t look to ever.”
“So that brings us back to tonight, Crystal. We’re going to have our match. Wendy vs. Crystal 3, the epic rubber match people have waited eleven months for. I’m sure it’s going to be a great match, and I know you’re going to give me a heck of a fight but that’s not what I’m going for. If I can win this thing in thirty seconds, I will do it. If it takes me all the way until the time limit to wear you down, that’s fine too. I just want to beat you. I just want to erase the blemish from my record that my own carelessness put on there in the first place, and I just want to walk out of the Tokyo Dome, head held high, knowing that I’ve done my best.”
“But win or lose, Crystal, there won’t be any post match hugs. There won’t be any newfound friendships, or arrangements to go shopping or have dinner together. Maybe one day, sometime in the future, you’ll actually develop a common sense, and realize who it is you actually are, and what you stand for. But until that day comes, you’re just another co-worker to me, and one I don’t particularly care for.”
“See you tonight, Crystal. Maybe I’ll finally beat some sense into you. I’m not holding my breath, but hey, miracles do happen occasionally.”
Wendy exhales, shaking her head, then turns, and walks out of the picture, as the scene fades.[/i]
No comments:
Post a Comment