Post by badteacher on Apr 24, 2015 13:57:19 GMT -5
10/2/2014
WFWF Takeover
"Quick, get the medical team down here, somebody help her!"
When you break a bone, you know it immediately. Or at least I did. I'll never forget the sound of the ringpost as I made contact with it. That distinct sound of bones crunching and ligaments popping is the type of thing that sticks with you. Like the first time you lose someone you love in a tragic way. There's a certain numbness that overcomes you, making everything seem like it's going in slow motion. Then it dawns on you that it's time to pick up the pieces, which feels like impact of a car wreck. For me, that point came the second I saw him duck, I knew what was about to happen but couldn't stop in time. I knew better than to take my eye off Thornstowe, because both times I've ever tried to get cute in the ring it's cost me. Hitting Tyger with that clothesline at Battle at the Garden looks more like an outlier than a normal pattern now, but in my inexperience I foolishly thought "it worked once, it'll work again." First a match against Daniel Kirkbride, now here I am lying on the trainer's table unable to move my arm. That would explain why my past coaches always told me don't go to the well to often.
"We got an injury people! MOVE!"
From the moment I hit the post until sometime later in the trainer's room, I don't recall a whole lot. Josh thinks I went into a form of shock and it's probably the reason I've lost that period of time. I don't remember trying to climb into the ring when it happened. I guess my body was just acting on the instinct to push through the pain. The only thing I can really recollect was the bell ringing and Josh coming ringside to help. The look on his face is still etched in my mind because the look of sheer horror that he had plays back like a bad dream, but you know that it isn't. We always talked, hypothetically of course, about what we'd do in the event that one of us got severely hurt. With the wear and tear on his body plus his neck in the shape that it's in, I expected him to be the one because he wrestles a much more physical style than me. But it's easy to think that it won't be you until it is.
"Hi Nikki. Ok, let's look at that arm."
Every poke and prod from his exam made my stomach queasy from the agonizing pain. I'm pretty sure I tried to break Josh's hand when he held it to keep me calm. I've felt my fair share of pain in the delivery room, but this was different because there's not a positive to be found. My title, that I endured a grueling tournament to win, seemed farther away than ever in those moments of uncertainty even though it's right there in arm's reach. How bad was it broken? Could a recovery timeline be established for me to get back in the ring? Would I lose what I worked so hard to achieve without being beaten in a match? Josh probably did the best thing for me by telling the truth about my situation, because in my delirious state I could only think of that piece of leather and gold sitting in front of me that signified so much more than my arrival on the big stage. I thought of young girls chasing a dream who look to me as inspiration. Have I let them down because of this injury?
"It's going to be okay."
I know Penny means well and she's trying her best to keep my spirits up, but right now doesn't seem like the time or place. I believe she hasn't had to experience that type of shock, even in all of her time with Scarlett. Hearing her talk about that time painted a picture of Scarlett that made me realize some people enter into dangerous situations out of desperation, which is a far cry from where I am. Mine is just an unfortunate circumstance that comes with the occupational hazards of a professional wrestler.
Accidents are a part of the wrestling world, but everything happened so fast and that's the hell of it. My arm wasn't the only thing that was pretty much dead that night, part of my spirit went with it.
****
10/14/2014
"I wouldn't expect less than a four to six month window before she is cleared to return to the ring."
I never cried so hard as I did that day. While still under anaesthesia, Dr. Carlisle broke the unfortunate news to me and the rest of SOS that effectively ended my run with the National Title in the record books. Forty nine days, and I was getting better every time I went to the ring. I know I wasn't the first female to win the National Title, I wasn't even the second. Meg Warner and Valorie Evans did it long before me, but I wonder if they had as much pressure as me to carry the banner for women's equality amongst the boys as I do. Meg was used by Kyzer then later on Phillip Schneider, and Ace Bennett stole Valorie's belt with very little resistance before beating her for it. No disrespect to those women, but I feel like I was starting a new standard when I kicked Ante Winter's teeth out for even challenging me for the title. All to have it ripped away because of something beyond my control.
You're damn right I cried today due to pain mixed in with the emotional turmoil the rest of group went through trying to figure out our next move. In the heat of the moment, Josh and Dave got into an arguement and said things they didn't mean out of sheer anger. I guess that's what happens when you have two passionate individuals with seperate ideals as far as the group is concerned. But they both have a reason to be worried because the doctor was adamant about my recovery time. Four to six months is a long time to be away from the ring, and for a rookie like myself it's essentially a hard reset on my career.
"No, it sounds to me like you're trying to justify dropping her." I hear Josh say to Dave. Knowing him like I do, he's very close to losing his temper. "Oh sh*t, she's damaged goods, we need to get Kirkbride in here to keep us from getting our asses kicked. Did you think that word wouldn't get back?"
I went to our bedroom shortly after. The arguing was just making me feel worse about the situation, and I'm already a basketcase of emotion. I need to sleep and forget it, cooler heads will prevail with Penny mediating the guys. As I lay there looking at my cast, listening to the people who have become family come closer to throwing all of it away, I just for one second wish they would stop and think about my feelings. They're still able to go out there and be a beacon of light for the audience while I'll be reduced to a cheerleader on the sidelines, watching as the people I beat up until this point continue to get better. I want to cry, but I don't think I have any more tears to shed.
I get up from the bed and walk into our bathroom where the burning need to vomit overtakes me. I feel responsible for the fact that my husband and friend are in the den arguing. But I didn't ask to get hurt. All I want to do is defend my title and stand alonside them as a unit. The thought of my injury causing an implosion among SOS or someone taking my belt without going through me turns my stomach. I know that whoever is fortunate enough to seize that opportunity will attempt to downplay my accomplishment, claiming they would've beat me given the chance. That's the bravado I know I'll be facing, a smug punk taking glory off soiling my good name. With me down, I know SOS is vulnerable as well to these teams adding new members to their ranks. But I feel helpless to prevent any of it.
I lean over the toilet and purge, but nothing comes out but spit and the occasional bile from my dry heave. The more I try, the worse this nauseating feeling gets in my throat. Up until this moment, I only thought of my arm putting my career on hold. Then I looked up, seeing the family portrait we just had made, and my heart sank. I've been thinking selfishly about this when I need to see the big picture. For the next few months, my children's everyday life is going to be affected by my rehabilitation schedule and for what? Just so I can get back a piece of gold plated leather that I'd eventually have to part with? What do they gain out of this besides Mommy being too distracted to notice them? Drake's already taken more responsibility in mine and Josh's absences than any ten year old boy should. He's never said it, but seeing the look of distain on his face in these photos makes me think he does harvest a bit of resentment against me for basically uprooting his childhood to chase rainbows. I lean over the toilet and remains of today's lunch fly out of my mouth into the water. Here I am, hurting the ones I'd die to protect. How does that make me any better than these parents that abandon their children for a bar? My newfound status shouldn't exempt me from my responsibilities.
"Nikki, let's go!"
I hear Josh calling out from the den. This must be bad because he's never willing to leave the house when we've got company. I flush the toilet and hurry over to the sink. I just need to figure this out and worry about getting better, but I don't want Josh to know I've been crying. I turn the faucet on and lean forward into the basin, running the cold water over my face and into my mouth. I hear the bedroom door open so I grab the hand towel and dry my face before putting it back on the rack.
"Hey." Josh says as he looks me over. "You ok?"
"Yeah I'm fine, I just needed to use the bathroom."
"Ok. Listen, Penny had to keep me and Dave from throwing down in there." He says, walking over to the sink and staring at himself in the mirror. "It might be a good idea for us to take a drive. Everyone is so worked up right now."
"I'm sorry, honey." I say, walking behind him. Josh turns around and and I wrap my arms around his neck. "I hate to see you guys mad at each other."
"I'm not mad, we just have a difference of opinion."
"Ok, I know that's not true." I say, leaning back, but still trying to keep my weakened grip. "You're talking about leaving the house while they're still here."
"And you weren't in here just using the bathroom."
"Yes I was."
"I know better than that." He chuckles, wiping a remaining strand of puke off the corner of my mouth. I must've missed it trying to hurry. "Dead giveaway."
"Eww, wash your hands!"
Leave it to my husband to make jokes out of bodily fluids. But I know he's trying to lighten an already intense situation. The time away from the ring might do my family some good. I know that Josh will still continue to travel and lead SOS to the heights we've aimed for,
but I just want to do my part. However, seeing the look on Drake's face burns in my mind and I know this is truly a blessing in disguise.
"I know there's a lot of tension, Josh, but maybe this is a good thing."
"I don't see how." Josh says as he turns off the faucet. "You're a vital part of this team, and I hope you realize that."
"I'm a rookie though, and besides the kids could use one of us here."
"Maybe so, but without you we become vulnerable. Injuries have way of destroying even the strongest bonds."
"You'll figure out a way to get through it until I come back."
"I want you to come back because you want to, not because you feel like you have to."
All I've thought about since we got home is when I can start to heal. I look down at my purple cast and I think about the times I've let outside factors derail my athletic dreams. Daddy's job as an electrician eventually took us from Atlanta, ending my attempts to make the Olympics in gymnastics. When I would cry at night after the move, my mom would always find a way to pour salt in the wounds, reminding me that the Olympics was unattainable anyway and that I would be better served learning the skills required to be a housewife. That really did me a whole lot of good as I married the first man that paid me any attention, and spent the next five years being told how worthless I was. My divorce from Dustin ruined my martial arts goals, because having to care for another life took priority over training. Wrestling was a gift from God because I finally had the support I needed, and I'm not about give up the chance at making an honest career for myself in the ring. I know that it's my last chance to do anything as an athlete.
"I will, but I'm going to do this right."
****
10/18/2014
"The winner of the match, and NEW WFWF National Champion…….. ANTE WHITNER!!!"
Christa's announcement lingers in my ears, like that harsh sound a record makes when it's stuck on repeat. How disrespectful of Ante refusing the ref's handshake. I don't have any ill will toward Ante and honestly I don't need to, but there's something about his demeanor that I can't get over. It has to be the way he's puffing his chest like a gorilla, because he looks like a buffoon. Be grateful Ante.
"I can't watch any more of this."
"You need to though." Josh says, gently squeezing my hand. "A lot of people are going to owe you a sincere apology when you take that belt back."
"He wouldn't be so full of himself if I hadn't got hurt." I say, gritting my teeth. "He'd be at the back of the line."
"I know, but I think he's trying make people forget that he lost to you not too long ago."
"I just can't believe they moved on so quickly."
"Well before you won the title and defended it, there was I think one match this year for it." Josh turns and looks at me as I keep my eyes glued on the monitor. "And that was back in April. Probably trying to make up for lost time."
Actually, Josh is wrong. There were three before I won it, but I get what he's saying. Me winning the title was a chance to bring stability back to it. Unlike Drakz and Reverend Shadow before me, I wasn't adding the title to pad a legacy. Sure I have aspirations of moving up the card, but I was quite happy in that position and felt that it was an appropriate spot for me so early into my career. I guess it really hasn't sunk in fully that my reign with the belt has been cut short and now another has claimed it for his own. As he takes the microphone in the ring, Josh nudges me to listen to what Ante has to say but I really don't want to. I've had my fill of him already.
Ante Witner: Oh boy, you know that feeling when you've won something and it just won't go off your mind? *chuckles* I'm pretty sure I do.
Yeah, we get it. You've been obsessed with winning this title since you came to WFWF, Ante. It's odd, I thought a championship match was supposed to take place on the actual show. This is the pre-show, but it doesn't seem as though anyone told him.
Ante Witner: There is absolutely no point in talking to you disgusting filth right now. I'm the king of your beloved America now. There isn't any queen around here anymore!
That's certainly one way to endear yourself to the fan base. I know from experience. While most of the WFWF fan base has been supportive of me since I arrived, I can still hear a few traditionalists that feel I don't have a place in the ring. Even then, because I kept showing up I believe I earned their respect. I've only seen a few people in my life that's acted this entitled, I was married to one in fact. It's sickening, because he didn't earn that championship, but feels like he did. I know that my doubters said the same thing when I won the title, but the difference is that Drakz willingly vacated it and I didn't. I earned it by beating the top prospects available in a tournament in which everyone had a fair shot. He wasn't included in that conversation.
Ante Whitner: You guys just laughed at me when I was beaten by Penny Shannon and Nikki Dean, right?
I knew it was just a matter of time before he brought my name into this. I know he was hinting at it with the queen bee reference, but I see a man that's jealous because two females showed him up. He knows I'm in the building too, which makes this feeling even worse because I can't do anything to stop him right now. Even if I tried to, I'd be at a disadvantage against a guy that is so desperate for legitimacy that he'd do something rash just to prove a point. But what point would he be making really? That he's a nasty human being that gets his fun out of kicking people when they're down, but can't handle when things hit a little too close to home. I grab the remote and go to turn off the monitor, but Josh stops me.
"I know this is hard to listen to, but I think it's almost over."
"I hope so. I just want to shut him up right now."
"You will." Josh assures me, leaning over and kissing my forehead. "Now's not the time or place. In fact, you stand to make a lot of money off this when the time comes."
Ante Witner: This message goes to the Saviors of Salvation. Keep your hands off me, or things will get messy. I am the National Champion and you Americans better bow down before your true savior, the Eagle, Ante Whitner.
Finally, I turn the monitor off. Josh shakes his head.
"Kid's got balls, I'll admit that."
"He kind of reminds me of those little brats that Drake used to play X-Box with." I say, pushing my hair back. "It's really easy to act tough in front of a camera."
"You can't stop that his name is in the record books now."
"No, but I can set the record straight."
"If he holds the title that long."
"I hope he does."
****
12/18/2014
"So when is Josh supposed to be back from London?" My dad asks as he opens a box of ornaments. "His height would be helpful right about now with this tree."
"Tommorrow." I say, putting the last remaining plates up into the cupboard. "From how I understand it, this media tour is a week long event."
"How many go to these things?"
"Usually just your top billed matches."
"That's good though." He says, crouching down to the anchor at the tree's base. "Usually that means he has more money to bring home."
"I suppose, and I guess it would be cool to meet the Queen."
"Listen sweetheart, I know you want to be there with him, but you have appointments and rehab starting soon on your arm." He advises. "You can't afford to miss those."
"I know, it's just odd because I've gotten used to him sleeping beside me."
"That's how I was for the first couple years after your momma passed." He says, standing up. "But you should take comfort in knowing that he'll be home soon."
"He hasn't called today or anything."
"They've probably got him running all around London, I'll guarantee he hasn't had a chance to stop."
"But he always calls every chance he gets."
"Nikki, you're making up things in your mind again, trying to see something that isn't there."
"I can't help it Daddy, I've been burnt."
It's hard for me to trust. And I know Josh hasn't done anything to break that trust, but it still makes me wonder. I used to sit up nights waiting for Dustin to get home from work, only to lose sleep when he wouldn't show. He'd have some reason that was as transparent as plastic wrap, but I'd always convince myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. But walking in on him and another woman has a way of knocking the wind out. It was very similar to the feeling I got when it was announced that I would be stripped of my championship. It's been two months since that day and the feeling still eats at me. I can barely stand to watch the product when I see Ante Witner parading around with my belt, mistreating it with his lack of care or appreciation for its impact on his career.
I walk into the den and begin to help my dad decorate the Christmas tree. I was hoping to have all of us do it as a family, but like usual WFWF had other plans. I'm glad SOS is maintaining momentum in my absence, but I find myself mostly restless because I'm still limited on what I can do.
"Is it selfish that I want to get back in the ring?"
Dad takes a minute to think about my question as he grabs the ladder we brought in earlier.
"What is you used to always tell Drake, work hard to make your dreams come true, and work harder when someone tells you no? Did I get that right?"
"Yes, because I want him to have the confidence to go after what he wants." I reply. "Mom never gave me that growing up."
"Nikki, you need to understand that mine and your mother's job was to give you and your siblings the skills needed to make it in life." He says, finally placing the ladder upright. "And I kick myself everyday that you had to give up gymnastics. But I don't regret giving you the best life possible."
This is shocking, because my dad is talking about something in a serious manner. He's always jovial, and I guess it's odd seeing him be so reflective. I swear sometimes he can read my mind, knowing exactly what to say in my times of panic. I've had a long time to think, and I realize that I'm blessed to be given another chance to prove my worth as an athlete. It's tough to break certain traits that have become habit, and this one of those moments. I've been so used to asking for permission, yet here is the one person that has known me since before I was born urging me to keep going. I'm not sure how to react, so I just nod my head.
"I know you're worried about the kids, but you shouldn't be." Dad continues. "They are in good hands, and Drake has so much pride in saying that his parents are professional wrestlers."
"I just don't want to take anything away from the boys."
"Well let me ask you this, what kind of message would you send to them if you gave up now?"
****
1/21/2015
1 Hour before The Clash
"Yes?" I ask, opening the door. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Gary Nelson from WFWF." He introduces himself. "I was told that you asked for a via satellite interview tonight during the Clash."
I smile and face palm myself. "That's right, please come in."
"You weren't expecting us today?"
"I've honestly lost track of days." I say as Hunter walks into the fourier, clutching onto my leg. "But it's fine though, I did ask for the time. Can I get you anything?"
"No thank you, I couldn't impose."
"You're not."
He nods his head, accepting my proposal. "Ok, do you have any iced tea?"
"Just made a gallon, follow me."
If there is one thing that I can say that I learned from my mother, it's to be a good hostess. Keep the refrigerator full of drinks, hot food available, and you can have guests at any time. It's one of those southern traditions I always liked, but never really got the chance to do. Dustin always kept the house in disarray and I was ashamed a lot of times to have my friends see it. At least I can take comfort in knowing that Josh is able to keep a clean place. Drake meets Gary at the entrance of the den and scoops up his brother, who squirms as Drake takes him into another room.
"So where should we set up the cameras?"
"The den's fine." I say, returning with a gallon of sweet ice tea and a stack of Dixie cups. "How many are there?"
"Three of us." Gary says as he motions for his crew to start bringing in the cameras. "Now what we'll do is have a monitor playing the pay per-view and we'll cut you in on a live feed to the arena when you're ready."
"Ok, don't mind if I excuse myself for a minute." I say, turning on my heel as I head toward the staircase. "I need to get something."
He nods as I head up the staircase into the trophy room. We've accumulated so many trophies and awards over the past few years, with Drake's trophies from Tae Kwon Do and basketball. I feel a strong sense of accomplishment for the things he's done and it brings a smile to my face to see him finding things he enjoys. As I slowly walk along the wall high trophy cases, I'm blinded by the gleam of my championship belt from the sunlight. The case is propped open and has been for a while, because closing it in my eyes would signal the end of pursuit to right the wrong. I read down and grab the belt. The leather feels so good in my hands and I enjoy the shine off it's plates.
"Hello old friend, we have an appearance to make."
Lila Sleater was shocked to hear from me when I called a couple days ago. She tried her hardest to get me on the flight to London and for a minute, I almost considered going. Then I looked at the schedule we keep hanging on the refrigerator and saw that my appointments would cause a conflict of interests. It would be nice to address the crowd in person, but any thing that takes away from my recovery keeps me out of the ring that much longer, and I can't let that happen.
As I make my way into the den, Drake and Hunter are watching the production crew set up. Well, watching is kind of an understatement, because Drake is attached to Gary and asking a hundred questions about the equipment. That leaves my little angel off to his own devices, or playing with the electrical cords. I hurry over and peel him away from them.
"No, no sweetie. These will hurt you baby."
"He's fine Nikki, believe it or not we're used to kids wanting to play with the equipment."
"Won't that damage it?"
"These cameras are meant to withstand massive amounts of force without being damaged." Gary chuckles. "I think it can handle a toddler."
"Ok, if you say so."
"Mom, Gary said I can help him with your interview!" Drake shouts. "Can I please?"
"I don't see why not, it would be a good experience to learn about electrics and TV production."
****
I meant what I said that night, Ante. And while I have a great deal of respect for Shapiro, I was hoping in my heart that you would walk out champion. Because see, you are the one that's had the most to say about me in my absence, knowing there was little I could do to stop you without fear of being permanently injured. But we both know you have something that belongs to me, and I plan on fixing that. You know in my time as champion, I had to worry about you coming for my belt until the day I actually faced you in the ring. I don't know why I worried, maybe it's because I let those people who couldn't handle seeing a beautiful woman having success tell me it was a Cinderella story. That day I learned you're not as good as me, and that appearances can be deceiving.
I'm glad to see you managed to get some work done on your teeth because of my kick, unfortunately they couldn't fix the entitlement problem you still have. Despite you spending all this time running my name into the ground I'm taking the high road and saying that I am glad to see you being successful, even though I still don't understand this talk about being a king. I hate to say it but this "king" is about to lose everything precious to him. Because I've got news for you, there's only room for one royal in this court Ante and the jester is only there for entertainment purposes.
Only I don't find you entertaining, not even accidentally. I would've thought carrying around my crown would've helped you grow, only the crown doesn't fit you and it never will because you never deserved it. I was wrong then, but I won't be wrong at End Game. I'll make sure you know I'm better when I beat you again.
The Queen has returned to reclaim her rightful throne.
****
2/18/2015
Sports Rehabilitation Center
Atlanta, Georgia
"Ok Nikki, we need to start getting some range of motion and strength back into your elbow." Maya, my physical therapist says as she hands me a stress ball. "You need to start small because your arm has been stationary for so long."
"I'm just glad that I get to do anything." I say, giggling slightly. "I think I was about to go stir crazy sitting at home."
"Well let's not over do it." She says with a stern look. "Athletes try to get back too quickly and they get hurt worse."
"I appreciate that, I definitely don't want to be out longer."
"Good." She says, demonstrating the exercise I'm supposed to do. "Since most of the damage to your ligaments was in the elbow, our focus is on strengthening the muscles around it. Now it will feel uncomfortable, but it's important to tell me if there is shooting pains or something doesn't feel right."
I nod and begin to do the exercise like Maya instructed. While I'm glad to resume physical activities, I'm feeling distracted. Not even a picture of Ante holding my title and the belt itself can keep my focus on this pain in my elbow. I glance over and the area surrounding it is swollen, but I figure it's because I've been trying to make up for lost time. I've been overzealous and I think that's why Maya has tried to reign me in. If it was up to me, I'd live in the gym because it takes my mind off how life has gone recently. Dustin called the other day, in fact ever since mine and Drake's appearance at the Clash he's been calling more consistently to around two or three times a week. I'd never keep Drake from his father in any fashion if his intentions were pure, but there is always an ulterior motive with him that just turns me into a b*tch. There's a lot of hurt feelings and bitterness towards him, especially when he tries to use Drake as a way to get to me.
"Maya, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, shoot."
"Would you say we've gotten to know each other pretty well since I've started coming here?"
"Yeah, I'd say so." She says, unfolding a towel. "What's wrong?"
"Well you know that Drake's biological father isn't very involved, right?"
"Yeah." She says, glancing down at her watch. "Ok, take a minute rest and give me another set. But what about his father?"
"Well, Drake came to me the other day after a phone call with him and said Dustin asked him to come live in Macon."
"That's where Dustin lives."
"Right." I say, wiping the sweat from my brow with the towel. "And I don't want him to go."
"Well you can still put your foot down and stop him from going if you think that it's not in best interests."
"It's not because of the kind of influence I know Dustin is. But then I start to wonder if I'm exactly a stable environment."
"Why, because you travel?"
"Yeah." I say, clenching my fists. "And it kills me to think this way, but a wrestler's life is not good for a boy that age."
"Well have you asked Drake how he feels about it?"
"He says he loves getting to travel and learning the backstage stuff of the show." I say, continuing my exercise set. "But I wonder sometimes if he's telling me this because he thinks it's what I want to hear."
Maya sees me squeezing the stress ball with a frantic intensity. "Nikki, slow down!" She shouts. "This exercise isn't meant to be fast."
"My heart starts racing at the thought of losing my son to him, and it makes me want to push harder."
"Listen, maybe you need to take a break and clear your head." Maya advises, prying the ball from my hand. "You're going to undo all the progress you've made."
"You're right, I can't work like this."
"We'll pick it up again this afternoon?"
"Yeah."
I stand up, slightly losing my balance. I'm starting to feel light headed, and the swelling in my elbow has increased along with a shooting pain that heads up to my shoulder. There's some major discoloration around the swelling that's been there for a little while, but I've just ignored it. I figured it was just normal given the amount of hardware in my arm. Something doesn't feel right though, and the more steps I take toward the table to get my belt, the light headedness increases.
"Maya, something doesn't seem right."
Hey there's the floor, goodnight everyone.
****
Atlanta Medical Center
Atlanta, Georgia
"Wake up, you worthless c*nt."
I open my eyes and I glance around. Judging by the IVs in my arm and the plain white walls, I can tell that I'm at the hospital. Everything else is kind of fuzzy to me, but I try to follow the sound of the voice that's in the room with me. I see the outline.
"Flat on your back, the one position you're not completely useless in."
"Ante?"
"Try again."
Even under heavy sedatives, I force my eyes open even further. I blink them a couple of times, hoping to clear up the blur. The voice is recognizable, if only because of how rude the speaker is. I can only think of a couple of people, and since he's already denied being who I thought he was that leaves one option available.
"What are you doing here, Dustin?"
"Well when my son calls me and says that you're in the hospital, I had to see what's up."
"Drake called you?"
"Are you surprised?
"More surprised you actually answered."
"You know, it's that big mouth of yours that caused so many problems in our marriage." He says, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Speaking of marriage, where's Mr. Perfect at? Figured since you poisoned Drake against me, that'd be the first person he'd call."
"I didn't do anything but let Drake see the truth about you." I hiss. "And since you must know, Josh's on a flight from Seattle. The company had a show there."
"Oh yeah that's right, you're on the big comeback trail." He says with that smirk I've grown to despise. "I thought the purpose of rehab was to get better, not end up in the hospital again."
"I blacked out during therapy, they were taking a precautionary measure."
"You blacked out from your arm?" He chuckles, looking at my belt on the stand. "See this is why you wrestling is a joke. Nice belt, did you get it from the cereal box?"
"Are you here to rub my bad fortune in my face Dustin?" I say, leaning up in the bed. "Because I don't find it funny."
"No, I came here to see just how fit you are to take care of my son." He says, moving his hand into his pocket. "But it looks like you have enough problems taking care of yourself, so I think I'll stop by the courthouse and file an appeal on the court order."
"It'll never hold up."
"Oh, but I think it will." Dustin says, pulling out his cellphone. He holds it up and there's a clicking sound. "Now the way I see it, you can either send Drake to live with me or I can show this to a judge and tell them about how you're never home because of your job. Either way, Drake's coming with me. It's time you realize who owns you."
I sigh, contemplating his threats. That's all they are, empty threats. Like our marriage, I know he'll eventually grow bored of this sudden fascination with Drake and disappear again. Right now, this is more annoying than anything. Something is really wrong here and I'm stuck putting up with his garbage, so weak that I can't even stand. All things that I've held my tounge for in the past ten years because of Drake are finally boiling to the surface. I've had enough.
"Is that the best you've got Dustin?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, you really are a piece of work."
"Excuse me you stupid b-."
"I didn't stutter." I interrupt. "Here I am, the mother of the child you abandon unless it's convenient, laid up in a hospital with something terribly wrong. And all you want to do is be nasty toward me. You don't give a damn about Drake, you just want to make me miserable. You've made me live in fear, afraid to chase my dreams because you're too much off a lazy bastard to take responsibilty. And what's worse is that you've effected Drake's mind to where he doesn't know what's acceptable and what isn't. All because I was afraid that if I came down too hard on him, he'd want to live with you. But I don't have to live in fear of you anymore Dustin. Those days are over!"
"Well someone got feisty all of a sudden." He says in his typical condescending tone. "I like that."
"Yeah, I grew up and cleaned up the mess you made of Drake's life. You want control and that's all. But I'd rather die than watch you ruin the best thing that's ever happened to him." I assert, the venom in my eyes starting to back him down. "So you go ahead and talk to the judge. Get a lawyer ready if you want to waste your money because what proof you have on me, I have more than enough to make sure you never see him again. Now ask yourself if you really want to go down that road?"
A nurse walks up to the doorway. Dustin looks over his shoulder.
"This isn't over."
He turns on his heel and walks toward the door.
"Pardon me."
He smiles as he walks past the door. That man was always a charmer, and that's how he lured me in. I don't hate anyone, but he might be the closest to that ugly word. The nurse walks into the room and has a syringe in her hand. I don't like the thought of a needle going into me, that's why I never did epidural during labor. Hopefully she can offer some explanation into what happened to me earlier. This isn't just so I can get back into the ring, now we're talking about my health.
"Hi Nikki, I'm Jenny and I'm one of the Hematology nurses assigned to you."
In college, I dabbled in Hematology during my senior capstone but is in no way extensive. As a double major in Science and Education, I hoped that it would provide me some different areas of study in the event I ever decided to go back to school someday. I find it strange that I'm in this department, considering that my arm is what caused me to black out. I don't know if I can take any more surprises today.
"What's in the syringe?"
"This is Lovanox, it's a blood thinner."
"Why do I need that?"
"I can't really disclose a lot of technical information, but Dr. Cabell ran an ultrasound on your elbow and found a blood clot in the brachial artery." She says, prepping the needle. "It thankfully wasn't as serious as some cases. You should consider yourself lucky, those things can kill you."
I hardly felt the needle as it pierced my skin, and I wasn't entirely sure what effect this medicine would have on me. When the doctor came in some time later that evening, he explained to me that blood clots are actually pretty common post surgery. I don't know how long that clot was in my arm, and maybe I should consider myself blessed to have survived it. To this day, I still have to take the Lovanox injections to keep my blood regulated. It's a pain, but to make it here I know it has to become as much a part of my daily routine as my diet and training. The doctor advised me to consider walking away, and my pride ignored that recommendation. I have a loose end that needs tied up and I won't back down now.
****
Two hundred days.
That's how long it's been since I was officially National Champion.
And for two hundred days that title has meant absolutely nothing in your possession Ante. My return in L.A meant two things for you. Number one, that the legitimacy of your title reign would be called into question. Number two, that your reign would come to an end.
For two hundred days, I've had to sit and watch as you've been protected with your run. By my count you've held that title almost four times as long as I did, and yet you've only managed one more successful defense than me. Whatever happened to the stipulation of the National Champion defending the title at every event? I guess those rules didn't apply to you but somehow, they were enforced when I was champion. I could get mad about that, but I won't because it proves my point about you not being championship material.
I don't know if I would've broken Devilkiller's mark, but I know that I would've given it my best effort until the day came that another wrestler got the better of me in the center of the ring. It might've been my next title defense, it might've been somewhere down the line. Who knows really because that's not for us to decide. What I do know is that the title was tainted the day you won it without beating me for it.
Now you've been an ok interim champion, but there's a need to put an asterisk beside your reign. Because I have been the true WFWF National Champion since August 26th, 2014.
It's funny how an ego can skew one's perception about reality.
So let me set the record straight, because you and the clowns you run with can't be relied upon to tell the truth, or at least understand the difference between facts and myths. You had your chance to take the title from me but failed. And now I'm giving you another chance. I looked you in those cold, soulless eyes of yours in LA and I told you to prove it. We'll hang your title up with mine high above that ring and see who wants it more. I know it's me because looking in your eyes, you thought you saw a ghost. I assure you Ante, the wrath of being forced to the sidelines is very real and the friends you have won't save you. This isn't about SOS against KKK, this is about you and I finishing what we started seven months ago because I'm sick of being put in the same sentence as you. I'm tired of my name being linked to yours because our reigns just happen to follow one another. And I know you're just as fed up with being reminded that not too long ago, a female barely five foot tall and a hundrend thirty pounds outclassed you on worldwide television.
You get your chance to remove the cloud that's been raining on your parade. But understand I'm not just happy to make it back, which means you've got a big problem waiting at End Game. I've recently looked real death in the face and laughed. So what honestly makes you think I'm scared of anything, let alone you?
You have something that belongs to me Ante, and I'm taking it back wether you like it or not. There can only be one of us that can wear this title, the undisputed National Championship.
The belt is coming home where it belongs.
WFWF Takeover
"Quick, get the medical team down here, somebody help her!"
When you break a bone, you know it immediately. Or at least I did. I'll never forget the sound of the ringpost as I made contact with it. That distinct sound of bones crunching and ligaments popping is the type of thing that sticks with you. Like the first time you lose someone you love in a tragic way. There's a certain numbness that overcomes you, making everything seem like it's going in slow motion. Then it dawns on you that it's time to pick up the pieces, which feels like impact of a car wreck. For me, that point came the second I saw him duck, I knew what was about to happen but couldn't stop in time. I knew better than to take my eye off Thornstowe, because both times I've ever tried to get cute in the ring it's cost me. Hitting Tyger with that clothesline at Battle at the Garden looks more like an outlier than a normal pattern now, but in my inexperience I foolishly thought "it worked once, it'll work again." First a match against Daniel Kirkbride, now here I am lying on the trainer's table unable to move my arm. That would explain why my past coaches always told me don't go to the well to often.
"We got an injury people! MOVE!"
From the moment I hit the post until sometime later in the trainer's room, I don't recall a whole lot. Josh thinks I went into a form of shock and it's probably the reason I've lost that period of time. I don't remember trying to climb into the ring when it happened. I guess my body was just acting on the instinct to push through the pain. The only thing I can really recollect was the bell ringing and Josh coming ringside to help. The look on his face is still etched in my mind because the look of sheer horror that he had plays back like a bad dream, but you know that it isn't. We always talked, hypothetically of course, about what we'd do in the event that one of us got severely hurt. With the wear and tear on his body plus his neck in the shape that it's in, I expected him to be the one because he wrestles a much more physical style than me. But it's easy to think that it won't be you until it is.
"Hi Nikki. Ok, let's look at that arm."
Every poke and prod from his exam made my stomach queasy from the agonizing pain. I'm pretty sure I tried to break Josh's hand when he held it to keep me calm. I've felt my fair share of pain in the delivery room, but this was different because there's not a positive to be found. My title, that I endured a grueling tournament to win, seemed farther away than ever in those moments of uncertainty even though it's right there in arm's reach. How bad was it broken? Could a recovery timeline be established for me to get back in the ring? Would I lose what I worked so hard to achieve without being beaten in a match? Josh probably did the best thing for me by telling the truth about my situation, because in my delirious state I could only think of that piece of leather and gold sitting in front of me that signified so much more than my arrival on the big stage. I thought of young girls chasing a dream who look to me as inspiration. Have I let them down because of this injury?
"It's going to be okay."
I know Penny means well and she's trying her best to keep my spirits up, but right now doesn't seem like the time or place. I believe she hasn't had to experience that type of shock, even in all of her time with Scarlett. Hearing her talk about that time painted a picture of Scarlett that made me realize some people enter into dangerous situations out of desperation, which is a far cry from where I am. Mine is just an unfortunate circumstance that comes with the occupational hazards of a professional wrestler.
Accidents are a part of the wrestling world, but everything happened so fast and that's the hell of it. My arm wasn't the only thing that was pretty much dead that night, part of my spirit went with it.
****
10/14/2014
"I wouldn't expect less than a four to six month window before she is cleared to return to the ring."
I never cried so hard as I did that day. While still under anaesthesia, Dr. Carlisle broke the unfortunate news to me and the rest of SOS that effectively ended my run with the National Title in the record books. Forty nine days, and I was getting better every time I went to the ring. I know I wasn't the first female to win the National Title, I wasn't even the second. Meg Warner and Valorie Evans did it long before me, but I wonder if they had as much pressure as me to carry the banner for women's equality amongst the boys as I do. Meg was used by Kyzer then later on Phillip Schneider, and Ace Bennett stole Valorie's belt with very little resistance before beating her for it. No disrespect to those women, but I feel like I was starting a new standard when I kicked Ante Winter's teeth out for even challenging me for the title. All to have it ripped away because of something beyond my control.
You're damn right I cried today due to pain mixed in with the emotional turmoil the rest of group went through trying to figure out our next move. In the heat of the moment, Josh and Dave got into an arguement and said things they didn't mean out of sheer anger. I guess that's what happens when you have two passionate individuals with seperate ideals as far as the group is concerned. But they both have a reason to be worried because the doctor was adamant about my recovery time. Four to six months is a long time to be away from the ring, and for a rookie like myself it's essentially a hard reset on my career.
"No, it sounds to me like you're trying to justify dropping her." I hear Josh say to Dave. Knowing him like I do, he's very close to losing his temper. "Oh sh*t, she's damaged goods, we need to get Kirkbride in here to keep us from getting our asses kicked. Did you think that word wouldn't get back?"
I went to our bedroom shortly after. The arguing was just making me feel worse about the situation, and I'm already a basketcase of emotion. I need to sleep and forget it, cooler heads will prevail with Penny mediating the guys. As I lay there looking at my cast, listening to the people who have become family come closer to throwing all of it away, I just for one second wish they would stop and think about my feelings. They're still able to go out there and be a beacon of light for the audience while I'll be reduced to a cheerleader on the sidelines, watching as the people I beat up until this point continue to get better. I want to cry, but I don't think I have any more tears to shed.
I get up from the bed and walk into our bathroom where the burning need to vomit overtakes me. I feel responsible for the fact that my husband and friend are in the den arguing. But I didn't ask to get hurt. All I want to do is defend my title and stand alonside them as a unit. The thought of my injury causing an implosion among SOS or someone taking my belt without going through me turns my stomach. I know that whoever is fortunate enough to seize that opportunity will attempt to downplay my accomplishment, claiming they would've beat me given the chance. That's the bravado I know I'll be facing, a smug punk taking glory off soiling my good name. With me down, I know SOS is vulnerable as well to these teams adding new members to their ranks. But I feel helpless to prevent any of it.
I lean over the toilet and purge, but nothing comes out but spit and the occasional bile from my dry heave. The more I try, the worse this nauseating feeling gets in my throat. Up until this moment, I only thought of my arm putting my career on hold. Then I looked up, seeing the family portrait we just had made, and my heart sank. I've been thinking selfishly about this when I need to see the big picture. For the next few months, my children's everyday life is going to be affected by my rehabilitation schedule and for what? Just so I can get back a piece of gold plated leather that I'd eventually have to part with? What do they gain out of this besides Mommy being too distracted to notice them? Drake's already taken more responsibility in mine and Josh's absences than any ten year old boy should. He's never said it, but seeing the look of distain on his face in these photos makes me think he does harvest a bit of resentment against me for basically uprooting his childhood to chase rainbows. I lean over the toilet and remains of today's lunch fly out of my mouth into the water. Here I am, hurting the ones I'd die to protect. How does that make me any better than these parents that abandon their children for a bar? My newfound status shouldn't exempt me from my responsibilities.
"Nikki, let's go!"
I hear Josh calling out from the den. This must be bad because he's never willing to leave the house when we've got company. I flush the toilet and hurry over to the sink. I just need to figure this out and worry about getting better, but I don't want Josh to know I've been crying. I turn the faucet on and lean forward into the basin, running the cold water over my face and into my mouth. I hear the bedroom door open so I grab the hand towel and dry my face before putting it back on the rack.
"Hey." Josh says as he looks me over. "You ok?"
"Yeah I'm fine, I just needed to use the bathroom."
"Ok. Listen, Penny had to keep me and Dave from throwing down in there." He says, walking over to the sink and staring at himself in the mirror. "It might be a good idea for us to take a drive. Everyone is so worked up right now."
"I'm sorry, honey." I say, walking behind him. Josh turns around and and I wrap my arms around his neck. "I hate to see you guys mad at each other."
"I'm not mad, we just have a difference of opinion."
"Ok, I know that's not true." I say, leaning back, but still trying to keep my weakened grip. "You're talking about leaving the house while they're still here."
"And you weren't in here just using the bathroom."
"Yes I was."
"I know better than that." He chuckles, wiping a remaining strand of puke off the corner of my mouth. I must've missed it trying to hurry. "Dead giveaway."
"Eww, wash your hands!"
Leave it to my husband to make jokes out of bodily fluids. But I know he's trying to lighten an already intense situation. The time away from the ring might do my family some good. I know that Josh will still continue to travel and lead SOS to the heights we've aimed for,
but I just want to do my part. However, seeing the look on Drake's face burns in my mind and I know this is truly a blessing in disguise.
"I know there's a lot of tension, Josh, but maybe this is a good thing."
"I don't see how." Josh says as he turns off the faucet. "You're a vital part of this team, and I hope you realize that."
"I'm a rookie though, and besides the kids could use one of us here."
"Maybe so, but without you we become vulnerable. Injuries have way of destroying even the strongest bonds."
"You'll figure out a way to get through it until I come back."
"I want you to come back because you want to, not because you feel like you have to."
All I've thought about since we got home is when I can start to heal. I look down at my purple cast and I think about the times I've let outside factors derail my athletic dreams. Daddy's job as an electrician eventually took us from Atlanta, ending my attempts to make the Olympics in gymnastics. When I would cry at night after the move, my mom would always find a way to pour salt in the wounds, reminding me that the Olympics was unattainable anyway and that I would be better served learning the skills required to be a housewife. That really did me a whole lot of good as I married the first man that paid me any attention, and spent the next five years being told how worthless I was. My divorce from Dustin ruined my martial arts goals, because having to care for another life took priority over training. Wrestling was a gift from God because I finally had the support I needed, and I'm not about give up the chance at making an honest career for myself in the ring. I know that it's my last chance to do anything as an athlete.
"I will, but I'm going to do this right."
****
10/18/2014
"The winner of the match, and NEW WFWF National Champion…….. ANTE WHITNER!!!"
Christa's announcement lingers in my ears, like that harsh sound a record makes when it's stuck on repeat. How disrespectful of Ante refusing the ref's handshake. I don't have any ill will toward Ante and honestly I don't need to, but there's something about his demeanor that I can't get over. It has to be the way he's puffing his chest like a gorilla, because he looks like a buffoon. Be grateful Ante.
"I can't watch any more of this."
"You need to though." Josh says, gently squeezing my hand. "A lot of people are going to owe you a sincere apology when you take that belt back."
"He wouldn't be so full of himself if I hadn't got hurt." I say, gritting my teeth. "He'd be at the back of the line."
"I know, but I think he's trying make people forget that he lost to you not too long ago."
"I just can't believe they moved on so quickly."
"Well before you won the title and defended it, there was I think one match this year for it." Josh turns and looks at me as I keep my eyes glued on the monitor. "And that was back in April. Probably trying to make up for lost time."
Actually, Josh is wrong. There were three before I won it, but I get what he's saying. Me winning the title was a chance to bring stability back to it. Unlike Drakz and Reverend Shadow before me, I wasn't adding the title to pad a legacy. Sure I have aspirations of moving up the card, but I was quite happy in that position and felt that it was an appropriate spot for me so early into my career. I guess it really hasn't sunk in fully that my reign with the belt has been cut short and now another has claimed it for his own. As he takes the microphone in the ring, Josh nudges me to listen to what Ante has to say but I really don't want to. I've had my fill of him already.
Ante Witner: Oh boy, you know that feeling when you've won something and it just won't go off your mind? *chuckles* I'm pretty sure I do.
Yeah, we get it. You've been obsessed with winning this title since you came to WFWF, Ante. It's odd, I thought a championship match was supposed to take place on the actual show. This is the pre-show, but it doesn't seem as though anyone told him.
Ante Witner: There is absolutely no point in talking to you disgusting filth right now. I'm the king of your beloved America now. There isn't any queen around here anymore!
That's certainly one way to endear yourself to the fan base. I know from experience. While most of the WFWF fan base has been supportive of me since I arrived, I can still hear a few traditionalists that feel I don't have a place in the ring. Even then, because I kept showing up I believe I earned their respect. I've only seen a few people in my life that's acted this entitled, I was married to one in fact. It's sickening, because he didn't earn that championship, but feels like he did. I know that my doubters said the same thing when I won the title, but the difference is that Drakz willingly vacated it and I didn't. I earned it by beating the top prospects available in a tournament in which everyone had a fair shot. He wasn't included in that conversation.
Ante Whitner: You guys just laughed at me when I was beaten by Penny Shannon and Nikki Dean, right?
I knew it was just a matter of time before he brought my name into this. I know he was hinting at it with the queen bee reference, but I see a man that's jealous because two females showed him up. He knows I'm in the building too, which makes this feeling even worse because I can't do anything to stop him right now. Even if I tried to, I'd be at a disadvantage against a guy that is so desperate for legitimacy that he'd do something rash just to prove a point. But what point would he be making really? That he's a nasty human being that gets his fun out of kicking people when they're down, but can't handle when things hit a little too close to home. I grab the remote and go to turn off the monitor, but Josh stops me.
"I know this is hard to listen to, but I think it's almost over."
"I hope so. I just want to shut him up right now."
"You will." Josh assures me, leaning over and kissing my forehead. "Now's not the time or place. In fact, you stand to make a lot of money off this when the time comes."
Ante Witner: This message goes to the Saviors of Salvation. Keep your hands off me, or things will get messy. I am the National Champion and you Americans better bow down before your true savior, the Eagle, Ante Whitner.
Finally, I turn the monitor off. Josh shakes his head.
"Kid's got balls, I'll admit that."
"He kind of reminds me of those little brats that Drake used to play X-Box with." I say, pushing my hair back. "It's really easy to act tough in front of a camera."
"You can't stop that his name is in the record books now."
"No, but I can set the record straight."
"If he holds the title that long."
"I hope he does."
****
12/18/2014
"So when is Josh supposed to be back from London?" My dad asks as he opens a box of ornaments. "His height would be helpful right about now with this tree."
"Tommorrow." I say, putting the last remaining plates up into the cupboard. "From how I understand it, this media tour is a week long event."
"How many go to these things?"
"Usually just your top billed matches."
"That's good though." He says, crouching down to the anchor at the tree's base. "Usually that means he has more money to bring home."
"I suppose, and I guess it would be cool to meet the Queen."
"Listen sweetheart, I know you want to be there with him, but you have appointments and rehab starting soon on your arm." He advises. "You can't afford to miss those."
"I know, it's just odd because I've gotten used to him sleeping beside me."
"That's how I was for the first couple years after your momma passed." He says, standing up. "But you should take comfort in knowing that he'll be home soon."
"He hasn't called today or anything."
"They've probably got him running all around London, I'll guarantee he hasn't had a chance to stop."
"But he always calls every chance he gets."
"Nikki, you're making up things in your mind again, trying to see something that isn't there."
"I can't help it Daddy, I've been burnt."
It's hard for me to trust. And I know Josh hasn't done anything to break that trust, but it still makes me wonder. I used to sit up nights waiting for Dustin to get home from work, only to lose sleep when he wouldn't show. He'd have some reason that was as transparent as plastic wrap, but I'd always convince myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. But walking in on him and another woman has a way of knocking the wind out. It was very similar to the feeling I got when it was announced that I would be stripped of my championship. It's been two months since that day and the feeling still eats at me. I can barely stand to watch the product when I see Ante Witner parading around with my belt, mistreating it with his lack of care or appreciation for its impact on his career.
I walk into the den and begin to help my dad decorate the Christmas tree. I was hoping to have all of us do it as a family, but like usual WFWF had other plans. I'm glad SOS is maintaining momentum in my absence, but I find myself mostly restless because I'm still limited on what I can do.
"Is it selfish that I want to get back in the ring?"
Dad takes a minute to think about my question as he grabs the ladder we brought in earlier.
"What is you used to always tell Drake, work hard to make your dreams come true, and work harder when someone tells you no? Did I get that right?"
"Yes, because I want him to have the confidence to go after what he wants." I reply. "Mom never gave me that growing up."
"Nikki, you need to understand that mine and your mother's job was to give you and your siblings the skills needed to make it in life." He says, finally placing the ladder upright. "And I kick myself everyday that you had to give up gymnastics. But I don't regret giving you the best life possible."
This is shocking, because my dad is talking about something in a serious manner. He's always jovial, and I guess it's odd seeing him be so reflective. I swear sometimes he can read my mind, knowing exactly what to say in my times of panic. I've had a long time to think, and I realize that I'm blessed to be given another chance to prove my worth as an athlete. It's tough to break certain traits that have become habit, and this one of those moments. I've been so used to asking for permission, yet here is the one person that has known me since before I was born urging me to keep going. I'm not sure how to react, so I just nod my head.
"I know you're worried about the kids, but you shouldn't be." Dad continues. "They are in good hands, and Drake has so much pride in saying that his parents are professional wrestlers."
"I just don't want to take anything away from the boys."
"Well let me ask you this, what kind of message would you send to them if you gave up now?"
****
1/21/2015
1 Hour before The Clash
"Yes?" I ask, opening the door. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Gary Nelson from WFWF." He introduces himself. "I was told that you asked for a via satellite interview tonight during the Clash."
I smile and face palm myself. "That's right, please come in."
"You weren't expecting us today?"
"I've honestly lost track of days." I say as Hunter walks into the fourier, clutching onto my leg. "But it's fine though, I did ask for the time. Can I get you anything?"
"No thank you, I couldn't impose."
"You're not."
He nods his head, accepting my proposal. "Ok, do you have any iced tea?"
"Just made a gallon, follow me."
If there is one thing that I can say that I learned from my mother, it's to be a good hostess. Keep the refrigerator full of drinks, hot food available, and you can have guests at any time. It's one of those southern traditions I always liked, but never really got the chance to do. Dustin always kept the house in disarray and I was ashamed a lot of times to have my friends see it. At least I can take comfort in knowing that Josh is able to keep a clean place. Drake meets Gary at the entrance of the den and scoops up his brother, who squirms as Drake takes him into another room.
"So where should we set up the cameras?"
"The den's fine." I say, returning with a gallon of sweet ice tea and a stack of Dixie cups. "How many are there?"
"Three of us." Gary says as he motions for his crew to start bringing in the cameras. "Now what we'll do is have a monitor playing the pay per-view and we'll cut you in on a live feed to the arena when you're ready."
"Ok, don't mind if I excuse myself for a minute." I say, turning on my heel as I head toward the staircase. "I need to get something."
He nods as I head up the staircase into the trophy room. We've accumulated so many trophies and awards over the past few years, with Drake's trophies from Tae Kwon Do and basketball. I feel a strong sense of accomplishment for the things he's done and it brings a smile to my face to see him finding things he enjoys. As I slowly walk along the wall high trophy cases, I'm blinded by the gleam of my championship belt from the sunlight. The case is propped open and has been for a while, because closing it in my eyes would signal the end of pursuit to right the wrong. I read down and grab the belt. The leather feels so good in my hands and I enjoy the shine off it's plates.
"Hello old friend, we have an appearance to make."
Lila Sleater was shocked to hear from me when I called a couple days ago. She tried her hardest to get me on the flight to London and for a minute, I almost considered going. Then I looked at the schedule we keep hanging on the refrigerator and saw that my appointments would cause a conflict of interests. It would be nice to address the crowd in person, but any thing that takes away from my recovery keeps me out of the ring that much longer, and I can't let that happen.
As I make my way into the den, Drake and Hunter are watching the production crew set up. Well, watching is kind of an understatement, because Drake is attached to Gary and asking a hundred questions about the equipment. That leaves my little angel off to his own devices, or playing with the electrical cords. I hurry over and peel him away from them.
"No, no sweetie. These will hurt you baby."
"He's fine Nikki, believe it or not we're used to kids wanting to play with the equipment."
"Won't that damage it?"
"These cameras are meant to withstand massive amounts of force without being damaged." Gary chuckles. "I think it can handle a toddler."
"Ok, if you say so."
"Mom, Gary said I can help him with your interview!" Drake shouts. "Can I please?"
"I don't see why not, it would be a good experience to learn about electrics and TV production."
****
I meant what I said that night, Ante. And while I have a great deal of respect for Shapiro, I was hoping in my heart that you would walk out champion. Because see, you are the one that's had the most to say about me in my absence, knowing there was little I could do to stop you without fear of being permanently injured. But we both know you have something that belongs to me, and I plan on fixing that. You know in my time as champion, I had to worry about you coming for my belt until the day I actually faced you in the ring. I don't know why I worried, maybe it's because I let those people who couldn't handle seeing a beautiful woman having success tell me it was a Cinderella story. That day I learned you're not as good as me, and that appearances can be deceiving.
I'm glad to see you managed to get some work done on your teeth because of my kick, unfortunately they couldn't fix the entitlement problem you still have. Despite you spending all this time running my name into the ground I'm taking the high road and saying that I am glad to see you being successful, even though I still don't understand this talk about being a king. I hate to say it but this "king" is about to lose everything precious to him. Because I've got news for you, there's only room for one royal in this court Ante and the jester is only there for entertainment purposes.
Only I don't find you entertaining, not even accidentally. I would've thought carrying around my crown would've helped you grow, only the crown doesn't fit you and it never will because you never deserved it. I was wrong then, but I won't be wrong at End Game. I'll make sure you know I'm better when I beat you again.
The Queen has returned to reclaim her rightful throne.
****
2/18/2015
Sports Rehabilitation Center
Atlanta, Georgia
"Ok Nikki, we need to start getting some range of motion and strength back into your elbow." Maya, my physical therapist says as she hands me a stress ball. "You need to start small because your arm has been stationary for so long."
"I'm just glad that I get to do anything." I say, giggling slightly. "I think I was about to go stir crazy sitting at home."
"Well let's not over do it." She says with a stern look. "Athletes try to get back too quickly and they get hurt worse."
"I appreciate that, I definitely don't want to be out longer."
"Good." She says, demonstrating the exercise I'm supposed to do. "Since most of the damage to your ligaments was in the elbow, our focus is on strengthening the muscles around it. Now it will feel uncomfortable, but it's important to tell me if there is shooting pains or something doesn't feel right."
I nod and begin to do the exercise like Maya instructed. While I'm glad to resume physical activities, I'm feeling distracted. Not even a picture of Ante holding my title and the belt itself can keep my focus on this pain in my elbow. I glance over and the area surrounding it is swollen, but I figure it's because I've been trying to make up for lost time. I've been overzealous and I think that's why Maya has tried to reign me in. If it was up to me, I'd live in the gym because it takes my mind off how life has gone recently. Dustin called the other day, in fact ever since mine and Drake's appearance at the Clash he's been calling more consistently to around two or three times a week. I'd never keep Drake from his father in any fashion if his intentions were pure, but there is always an ulterior motive with him that just turns me into a b*tch. There's a lot of hurt feelings and bitterness towards him, especially when he tries to use Drake as a way to get to me.
"Maya, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, shoot."
"Would you say we've gotten to know each other pretty well since I've started coming here?"
"Yeah, I'd say so." She says, unfolding a towel. "What's wrong?"
"Well you know that Drake's biological father isn't very involved, right?"
"Yeah." She says, glancing down at her watch. "Ok, take a minute rest and give me another set. But what about his father?"
"Well, Drake came to me the other day after a phone call with him and said Dustin asked him to come live in Macon."
"That's where Dustin lives."
"Right." I say, wiping the sweat from my brow with the towel. "And I don't want him to go."
"Well you can still put your foot down and stop him from going if you think that it's not in best interests."
"It's not because of the kind of influence I know Dustin is. But then I start to wonder if I'm exactly a stable environment."
"Why, because you travel?"
"Yeah." I say, clenching my fists. "And it kills me to think this way, but a wrestler's life is not good for a boy that age."
"Well have you asked Drake how he feels about it?"
"He says he loves getting to travel and learning the backstage stuff of the show." I say, continuing my exercise set. "But I wonder sometimes if he's telling me this because he thinks it's what I want to hear."
Maya sees me squeezing the stress ball with a frantic intensity. "Nikki, slow down!" She shouts. "This exercise isn't meant to be fast."
"My heart starts racing at the thought of losing my son to him, and it makes me want to push harder."
"Listen, maybe you need to take a break and clear your head." Maya advises, prying the ball from my hand. "You're going to undo all the progress you've made."
"You're right, I can't work like this."
"We'll pick it up again this afternoon?"
"Yeah."
I stand up, slightly losing my balance. I'm starting to feel light headed, and the swelling in my elbow has increased along with a shooting pain that heads up to my shoulder. There's some major discoloration around the swelling that's been there for a little while, but I've just ignored it. I figured it was just normal given the amount of hardware in my arm. Something doesn't feel right though, and the more steps I take toward the table to get my belt, the light headedness increases.
"Maya, something doesn't seem right."
Hey there's the floor, goodnight everyone.
****
Atlanta Medical Center
Atlanta, Georgia
"Wake up, you worthless c*nt."
I open my eyes and I glance around. Judging by the IVs in my arm and the plain white walls, I can tell that I'm at the hospital. Everything else is kind of fuzzy to me, but I try to follow the sound of the voice that's in the room with me. I see the outline.
"Flat on your back, the one position you're not completely useless in."
"Ante?"
"Try again."
Even under heavy sedatives, I force my eyes open even further. I blink them a couple of times, hoping to clear up the blur. The voice is recognizable, if only because of how rude the speaker is. I can only think of a couple of people, and since he's already denied being who I thought he was that leaves one option available.
"What are you doing here, Dustin?"
"Well when my son calls me and says that you're in the hospital, I had to see what's up."
"Drake called you?"
"Are you surprised?
"More surprised you actually answered."
"You know, it's that big mouth of yours that caused so many problems in our marriage." He says, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Speaking of marriage, where's Mr. Perfect at? Figured since you poisoned Drake against me, that'd be the first person he'd call."
"I didn't do anything but let Drake see the truth about you." I hiss. "And since you must know, Josh's on a flight from Seattle. The company had a show there."
"Oh yeah that's right, you're on the big comeback trail." He says with that smirk I've grown to despise. "I thought the purpose of rehab was to get better, not end up in the hospital again."
"I blacked out during therapy, they were taking a precautionary measure."
"You blacked out from your arm?" He chuckles, looking at my belt on the stand. "See this is why you wrestling is a joke. Nice belt, did you get it from the cereal box?"
"Are you here to rub my bad fortune in my face Dustin?" I say, leaning up in the bed. "Because I don't find it funny."
"No, I came here to see just how fit you are to take care of my son." He says, moving his hand into his pocket. "But it looks like you have enough problems taking care of yourself, so I think I'll stop by the courthouse and file an appeal on the court order."
"It'll never hold up."
"Oh, but I think it will." Dustin says, pulling out his cellphone. He holds it up and there's a clicking sound. "Now the way I see it, you can either send Drake to live with me or I can show this to a judge and tell them about how you're never home because of your job. Either way, Drake's coming with me. It's time you realize who owns you."
I sigh, contemplating his threats. That's all they are, empty threats. Like our marriage, I know he'll eventually grow bored of this sudden fascination with Drake and disappear again. Right now, this is more annoying than anything. Something is really wrong here and I'm stuck putting up with his garbage, so weak that I can't even stand. All things that I've held my tounge for in the past ten years because of Drake are finally boiling to the surface. I've had enough.
"Is that the best you've got Dustin?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, you really are a piece of work."
"Excuse me you stupid b-."
"I didn't stutter." I interrupt. "Here I am, the mother of the child you abandon unless it's convenient, laid up in a hospital with something terribly wrong. And all you want to do is be nasty toward me. You don't give a damn about Drake, you just want to make me miserable. You've made me live in fear, afraid to chase my dreams because you're too much off a lazy bastard to take responsibilty. And what's worse is that you've effected Drake's mind to where he doesn't know what's acceptable and what isn't. All because I was afraid that if I came down too hard on him, he'd want to live with you. But I don't have to live in fear of you anymore Dustin. Those days are over!"
"Well someone got feisty all of a sudden." He says in his typical condescending tone. "I like that."
"Yeah, I grew up and cleaned up the mess you made of Drake's life. You want control and that's all. But I'd rather die than watch you ruin the best thing that's ever happened to him." I assert, the venom in my eyes starting to back him down. "So you go ahead and talk to the judge. Get a lawyer ready if you want to waste your money because what proof you have on me, I have more than enough to make sure you never see him again. Now ask yourself if you really want to go down that road?"
A nurse walks up to the doorway. Dustin looks over his shoulder.
"This isn't over."
He turns on his heel and walks toward the door.
"Pardon me."
He smiles as he walks past the door. That man was always a charmer, and that's how he lured me in. I don't hate anyone, but he might be the closest to that ugly word. The nurse walks into the room and has a syringe in her hand. I don't like the thought of a needle going into me, that's why I never did epidural during labor. Hopefully she can offer some explanation into what happened to me earlier. This isn't just so I can get back into the ring, now we're talking about my health.
"Hi Nikki, I'm Jenny and I'm one of the Hematology nurses assigned to you."
In college, I dabbled in Hematology during my senior capstone but is in no way extensive. As a double major in Science and Education, I hoped that it would provide me some different areas of study in the event I ever decided to go back to school someday. I find it strange that I'm in this department, considering that my arm is what caused me to black out. I don't know if I can take any more surprises today.
"What's in the syringe?"
"This is Lovanox, it's a blood thinner."
"Why do I need that?"
"I can't really disclose a lot of technical information, but Dr. Cabell ran an ultrasound on your elbow and found a blood clot in the brachial artery." She says, prepping the needle. "It thankfully wasn't as serious as some cases. You should consider yourself lucky, those things can kill you."
I hardly felt the needle as it pierced my skin, and I wasn't entirely sure what effect this medicine would have on me. When the doctor came in some time later that evening, he explained to me that blood clots are actually pretty common post surgery. I don't know how long that clot was in my arm, and maybe I should consider myself blessed to have survived it. To this day, I still have to take the Lovanox injections to keep my blood regulated. It's a pain, but to make it here I know it has to become as much a part of my daily routine as my diet and training. The doctor advised me to consider walking away, and my pride ignored that recommendation. I have a loose end that needs tied up and I won't back down now.
****
Two hundred days.
That's how long it's been since I was officially National Champion.
And for two hundred days that title has meant absolutely nothing in your possession Ante. My return in L.A meant two things for you. Number one, that the legitimacy of your title reign would be called into question. Number two, that your reign would come to an end.
For two hundred days, I've had to sit and watch as you've been protected with your run. By my count you've held that title almost four times as long as I did, and yet you've only managed one more successful defense than me. Whatever happened to the stipulation of the National Champion defending the title at every event? I guess those rules didn't apply to you but somehow, they were enforced when I was champion. I could get mad about that, but I won't because it proves my point about you not being championship material.
I don't know if I would've broken Devilkiller's mark, but I know that I would've given it my best effort until the day came that another wrestler got the better of me in the center of the ring. It might've been my next title defense, it might've been somewhere down the line. Who knows really because that's not for us to decide. What I do know is that the title was tainted the day you won it without beating me for it.
Now you've been an ok interim champion, but there's a need to put an asterisk beside your reign. Because I have been the true WFWF National Champion since August 26th, 2014.
It's funny how an ego can skew one's perception about reality.
So let me set the record straight, because you and the clowns you run with can't be relied upon to tell the truth, or at least understand the difference between facts and myths. You had your chance to take the title from me but failed. And now I'm giving you another chance. I looked you in those cold, soulless eyes of yours in LA and I told you to prove it. We'll hang your title up with mine high above that ring and see who wants it more. I know it's me because looking in your eyes, you thought you saw a ghost. I assure you Ante, the wrath of being forced to the sidelines is very real and the friends you have won't save you. This isn't about SOS against KKK, this is about you and I finishing what we started seven months ago because I'm sick of being put in the same sentence as you. I'm tired of my name being linked to yours because our reigns just happen to follow one another. And I know you're just as fed up with being reminded that not too long ago, a female barely five foot tall and a hundrend thirty pounds outclassed you on worldwide television.
You get your chance to remove the cloud that's been raining on your parade. But understand I'm not just happy to make it back, which means you've got a big problem waiting at End Game. I've recently looked real death in the face and laughed. So what honestly makes you think I'm scared of anything, let alone you?
You have something that belongs to me Ante, and I'm taking it back wether you like it or not. There can only be one of us that can wear this title, the undisputed National Championship.
The belt is coming home where it belongs.
