Post by Thunder on Feb 22, 2020 9:38:40 GMT -5
Some things just weren’t right.
He couldn’t figure out how it all went so wrong. The return made so much sense on paper. If not now, when? And there was so much reason to, with facets of his legacy getting gradually ripped away.
Then it got pear shaped in a hurry.
It wasn’t right that he found himself in worse shape than he realized. It wasn’t right that he needed to rely on some external help to get in fighting shape. It wasn’t right that his attempt to save face and get a preferential entry spot didn’t work out. It wasn’t right that the vice around his head kept tightening and tightening until he was about to burst.
And it sure as hell wasn’t right that he was able to sit out on his porch in the middle of February. Al Gore may not have invented the internet, but he sure was right about the climate change.
He was glad to have this chance to just sit and think, though. It was hard to find to find a quiet moment, now more than ever. And with this damn awful feeling, all he wanted was a quiet time to breathe. This wouldn’t fix it, but it could be a whole lot worse.
What the hell was he going to do?
Robin was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He needed to go and do something about this. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he could survive that goddamn chamber match. Trying to get into the last spot was his last saving grace. Maybe then he could have smoked and mirrored his way through it. But going first? He’d be coming out in a body bag.
This was no way for a career to end. Survival of the Fittest would have been the perfect culmination of his career: achieving a new height in the same match where he first became a star. Full circle, how nice. A real Hollywood ending.
But no, now the circle was broken. And so was he.
He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling of the porch. No answers about what to do came.
By the time he put his head back down, he noticed something odd coming towards him. Someone walking down the street this late at night didn’t make much sense. Not much foot traffic went around here, being in one of those neighborhoods that didn’t even have sidewalks. He always figured that was to deter pedestrians. It sure wasn’t stopping this guy, though.
Michael leaned in for a better look. It was hard to tell any distinct features, but what he could see made it even stranger. The dude was wearing a suit. And even worse, he stopped right at the bottom of the steps.
“Whatever you want, I’m not interested.” Michael called out. The man didn’t budge at first. Then he slowly began to climb the stairs.
“Don’t come closer, I’ve got a gun.”
He didn’t. And the guy didn’t stop either.
“Nice to meet you, Michael,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Dudley.”
“How do you know my name?” Michael asked, ignoring the handshake attempt. “Are you with some Russian troll farm?”
“Oh no, they work with the other side,” Dudley said, sitting down on the porch chair next to Michael. Michael, for his part, recoiled back. “I’m just here to help you.”
“I don’t know your deal is, but you’re creeping me out. I’ll be calling the cops if you don’t get out of here soon.”
“That won’t do you any good, I’m afraid. I’ll try to make things a little clearer. It seems you’ve been having a bit of trouble lately, so I’m here to help you and guide you some.”
“Oh come on. Robin sent you to talk to me?”
“No, no,” Dudley said, shaking his head. “This part is always the hardest. I'm a special kind of person, so to speak. Sent here from elsewhere to give you some guidance in your time of need.”
“Oh hell no,” Michael said, getting up from his chair. “I knew this head was messing me up, but this hallucination is ridiculous. I'm just going to go in the house now. If you're real, please leave. If you're not, I assume you'll disappear.”
He made his way to the door, not looking again at the whatever it was next to him.
“Don't try to open the door. It won't open.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I left the door unlock--” Michael tugged on the door, but nothing happened.
“Take a seat, Michael.”
Michael reluctantly headed back to his seat, this time not taking his eyes off this Dudley fellow. Something was up here, and he didn't like it one bit. He liked it even less not knowing what was going on.
“Whoever you are, I don't want anything to do with this,” Michael said. “Even if you are what you claim to be, this is not something I'm getting mixed up in. I'm no George Bailey.”
“That's for damn sure.”
“Yeah, like I'm supposed to believe you're some angel with that attitude.”
“I've had some insubordination issues,” Dudley said with a shrug.
“Would I have known any of your past work?”
“You know Keith Richards?”
“You're the one who just got him to quit smoking?” Michael asked.
“Oh no, that was somebody else. Years ago I was trying to help with out with something. Long story short, he ends up falling out of a coconut tree.”
“Great, so I got the s****y one at that.”
“What can I say? I'm an intern. Look, here's the thing. I'm just going to get on with it. You are killing yourself right now by not going to a doctor. You know something is wrong with you, and you won't confront it. You've worked a long time to turn your life around and be a better person than before. You can't throw that all away now.”
“All lovely points, but I'm not taking advice from someone who may not even exist. Again, leave.”
Michael got up from the chair again. This time, he yanked on the door even harder. Still nothing budged. Harder and harder still, with his head pounding more each time. Nothing. He looked back at Dudley, who was now lounging back reading a book.
“I already told you, you can't go in there now,” Dudley said. “Not until we're done.”
“You're reading a book?”
“Of course. Well, it's a play. You Can't Take it With You. Gotta pass the time when people like you take too long to get to the point. It's pretty good, made into another Capra movie. You should read it if you get the chance. And well, if you're able in the future.”
“Cut the crap, Clarence,” Michael shot back. “What am I supposed to be doing now? You're going to force me to do this?”
“No no, not at all. If we could force people to do the right thing, do you think we would have ever let Rob Manfred be baseball commissioner? I can just show you the right path. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to show you how much you have changed, how much you've grown. Maybe then you'll appreciate more what you have and why you can't throw it away. And then I'll show you what's on the line here.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Can you quit speaking in riddles already?”
“You don't need to be so difficult. Fine, let's just get started.” Dudley snapped his fingers.
At once they're on the ramp, staring up at a wrestling ring. Michael swirled around, looking at the packed arena and back to the stage. This is a big event, and the crowd is into it. He eventually stopped and focused on what's going on in the arena. In an instant he knows the date, time and place. There he is, right in the ring, looking a lot younger and a lot dumber. Why did he think that hair was good? God, what a dweeb.
“This is Survival of the Fittest 2007! My big coming out party. This was the night I really took off.”
All at once he forgets the absurdity of this whole situation. Now he's just watching the match. Pierce Deville, the overwhelmingly favorite, has him locked tight in the Gridlock. This is the result everyone expected, and now it's all but certain. A valiant effort by the International Champion, but it doesn't matter in the end. Except . . . it did. Out of nowhere, Thunder reverses into a pinning predicament and gets a flash pin. The crowd jumps to their feet as Thunder rolls out of the ring. In flash, it happened and everything changed.
“This night was the best. You know, people were pissed when I won. Pierce Deville was supposed to be the golden child, the next big star. And I ruined it for everyone.”
“You certainly had a good night here.”
“You know, this is one of the purest good nights I ever had as a wrestler. Even my title win the show after got ruined, just so I could be an afterthought of Obo and Deville. And then Deville got blackballed later anyway. All I wanted was some respect.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, I guess you do,” Michael said. The show has already moved on to the next match, where EBR and CBT are fighting in the battle of the acronyms or something. “But why did you show me this? I know all about it, and quite frankly, I don't need a reminder that I'm going to suck in the newest Survival of the Fittest Match.”
“I need you to see what you were then, not just as a wrestler, but as a man. Do you know what else went on that night?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“You'll soon find out.”
Dudley snaps his fingers again.
Now they're in a space he recognizes immediately. His house, his old one. The one he'd sold some time ago, before he got his upgraded retired wrestler/writer home. The one that was both bigger and more sensible. The one that didn't carry some awful memories of Stacy and the loss of her. They're in the living room, sitting empty and quiet, save for the TV humming at a low volume.
“What's the point of this? Obviously my house was empty. I was at the show. What gives?”
“Oh, it wasn't empty, Mr. Bailey.”
Footsteps leave the kitchen and make their way to the living room. And there she is, standing in front of him once again. The woman he loved the most, even when he failed to show it. The woman who loved him, despite all his flaws. He'd looked at her picture so many times over the intervening years, and now she was here in front of her again. Michael rushed over to her, his arms outstretched. He felt nothing as he did so, and it was apparent she didn't either.
“She's not going to see you or feel you, Michael. Save yourself the emotional distress.”
“Distress? When do you care about my distress? You're the one who just dropped me in this without warning.”
“Just watch. This is the same night as your big win. See what happened on the home front while you were gone.”
Stacy paces around the room, holding the phone up to her ear. She eventually pulls it away and looks at the face of it. She dials a number again, and puts it back up to her ear. Finally, she gives up on the call and throws the phone across the room. It hits a stack of DVDs on a shelf and crashes down. Stacy, for her part, crashes down onto the couch herself.
“Where is he? Goddammit.”
“Do you know what she's so upset about Michael?” Dudley asks.
“I think I can safely assume it's about me. It would check out.”
“Bingo. You see, you were supposed to call her after the show was done. She really wanted to talk to you, because the two of you were having trouble lately. Needless to say, you hadn't reacted in the most mature way to her pregnancy. You decided to run from it and you kept on dodging it. And do you remember what happened when you actually talked to her that night, Michael?”
“Oh god.”
“Correct. You blew her off again, as he tried to talk to you about her pregnancy. You went through one of your many breakups that night. And then she went out driving and got into a car accident.”
“I’m aware,” Michael said. He could no longer look at Stacy. He stared off into one corner, transfixing his eyes on the blank wall space. Anything not to look at her now. He couldn’t.
“I’ll spare showing you the crash itself.”
With that, Michael has finally had enough. He jerks back towards Dudley, getting far into his face.
“What is the purpose of this? Are you trying to prove I’m a bad person? News flash, I already know. It’s no secret, and it hasn’t been for fifteen f***ing years. I’m all too aware of it, buddy, because I’ve got to live with the stuff I’ve done. It eats at me every day. I’m a bad person, and I don’t need reminded.”
“No, Michael. You’re not. You were a bad person. I need you to see what you were and how much you’ve changed. It’s more than you think. Let’s jump ahead ten years from this date.”
Snap.
At least he was in a more familiar and comfortable room now: his current living room. The room is empty, with the lights bright and the TV blasting some commercial for a medication. Michael can tell right away that this is a fairly recent time. Toys are scattered on the floor, books are strewn across the coffee table in no particular order.
Aaron runs in, bowl of popcorn in hand. If it wasn’t for the area rug over the carpeting, he’d probably slide straight through into the couch. Instead, he just makes a straight run for it.
“You’re going to miss Double Jeopardy!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Michael calls out before wandering back into the room.
“Hey, isn’t that my seat?”
“Not any more,” Aaron says, sticking sticking his tongue out. Michael smiles and takes the other seat on the couch. Meanwhile, Jeopardy has returned to the screen.
“Paul Revere,” Aaron says in response to an answer. “Lafayette,” he responds to the next one.
“You’re getting pretty good at this.”
“It’s a gift.”
“A gift you got from your mother and I, I might add. We used to watch together a lot, you know.”
“Did mom win a lot?” Aaron asks?
“She may have had the edge against me.”
“It’s okay,” Aaron says, patting Michael on the shoulder. “I’ll let you win.”
Michael continued to look on, transfixed until Dudley placed a hand on his back and patted it.
“See Michael, you did change. Not a lot of people could change like you did, and be better than before. Nobody thought you could do it. Shawn sure didn’t think you could. But you did, and you know it. You know you came a long way, but I don’t think you’ve realized just how far you’ve come.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“And would you like more of these moments with your son?”
“Obviously,” Michael said. “There’s nothing I want more than that.”
“Then why won't you go to the doctor's and find out what's wrong?”
“I don't know. I just . . . I don't . . .”
“Why won't you go to the doctor's, Michael?”
Michael turned and looked Dudley in the eyes.
“Because I'm afraid, okay! You happy now? I'm scared out of my mind, because I know I'm a dead man walking once I go in there.”
“For one, you don't know that. And even if it is, not going doesn't alter the truth in any way. In fact, it just hurts yourself. Here's a wild idea. Maybe something is wrong that can be fixed?”
“I know, I know. You're probably right. It's just . . . I don't know . . . it's so overwhelming and . . .”
Dudley sighs.
“It could have been so easy, Michael. I thought we would be done here. You're a stubborn bastard, though.”
“Yes, I'm aware of that too. Very astute of you, Clarence.”
“Whatever. Well, if I've got to do it, I've got to do it. It's your funeral, so to speak.”
“What do you--”
Snap.
Michael knows the faces involved here, but he can't place the room. There's something off about the whole thing in many ways, too. Aaron looks a little older, although not a ton. More surprising is his hair, long and shaggy. It's so long that he has to brush it away from his eyes as he sits on the couch. He's never looked like this before. He's never dressed like this before: a long black sleeved shirt and pretty ratty looking jeans. Robin appears to be doing something in the kitchen attached to the room, but it's not clear what.
“Where are we now?” Michael asks Dudley.
“Oh, this is five years later.”
“Five years from what?”
“Great, you're dense too. You'll see.”
“Lunch will be ready in a second!” Robin calls out. Aaron doesn't respond. He just looks down at his phone, scrolling away. The TV is also on, but he doesn't look up at that particular screen. Robin enters a moment later, dropping a grilled cheese in front of him on the table.
“Thanks.”
“Any time. So, is there anything you want to do today?”
“Not really.”
“Now, now. I'm sure there must be something fun you want to do. We've got to do something.”
Aaron shrugs.
“Why do we have to live here?” he asks.
“I just think it's best for right now. We don't want to use up any of the college money Uncle Shawn put away for you. And since I can't work right now, selling the house gives us extra money to live off in the meantime.”
“You can go back to work, honest. I'll be fine.”
“I'm sure you will,” Robin says, wrapping an arm around him. “But for now, I'll stay here just to be safe.”
Michael's eyes darted around the room, trying to figure out what was going on here. It was starting to add up a little, and he wasn't liking the looks of it at all. And he wasn't about to do the math and embrace just how bad it really was.
“Just tell me what's going on. I don't want to watch this any more.”
“You know very well what's going on, I think. Whether you want to admit it is a different thing entirely.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michael said. “You're spooking me with what happens when I'm dead. I get all that. But I don't understand whey they had to sell the house? What's wrong with Aaron?”
“Does he seem a little off to you?”
“Yes, he does. And I don't like the way they're talking either. Something is up and I want you to tell me so I can get out of here.”
“In due time,” Dudley said. Then, he pointed back to the scene to get Michael's attention. “You may get a hint right about now.”
Aaron starts eating, his overgrown sleeves barely giving his fingers any room to grab a hold of the sandwich. Robin takes notice of this right away. It's a dance they seem to be familiar with.
“Aaron honey, roll up your sleeves. You're going to mess them all up doing that.”
“I don't want to.”
“It's fine. I don't care.”
Aaron shrugs.
“Come on now, don't be silly. You're among friends here, and it's no big deal anyway. Here, I'll do it for you.”
Aaron relents as Robin takes a hold of one wrist and then the other. In a moment, both sleeves are rolled up. Aaron goes back to eating as Robin remains by his side.
Michael couldn't look at it for too long. He leaned as the moment occurred, trying to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was. And then, once it was confirmed, he turned his head away. He found himself staring at yet another corner, trying to gaze off at anything except what he had just seen.
“Christ,” Michael said, once the lump in his throat went away. “How bad is it for him?”
“He made one attempt, but had lots of other issues and incidents on top of that. Robin blew through a lot of your money trying to manage things and setting up therapy, and then selling the house became the only sensible option. She's not working until Aaron goes back to school, just to be safe.”
“I . . . I didn't know it would be that bad.”
“It's hard for a kid to have no parents at all.”
“And how is Robin holding up?”
“She's trying her best.”
Michael allowed himself to look over at them one more time. Aaron continues to sheepishly eat, small bites at a time. Robin leans her head back for a moment and seems to doze off before jolting awake again. Aaron doesn't notice, he's too busy staring off into the distance. Like father, like son.
“Can we please go back home now?” Michael asked, turning his head away again. Dudley nodded, and they were off.
Michael found himself back on his porch, checking around to make sure he was really in his space and surroundings. To his left was the copy of You Can't Take it With You. He was almost relieved, except that wasn't exactly a sign he was in the rational right now either. But at least he appeared to be home. He stopped looking and just stared out onto the road ahead of him, where this man had appeared not too long ago. There he remained, just looking and trying to control his breathing.
“Do you understand now, Michael?”
“I think I do.”
“You've come a long way. You know the man you used to be, consumed with your professional success to the detriment of the people in your life. You turned it all around. You did the rarest of all things, completely growing and changing who you are.”
“Is that enough to make up for everything else?”
“It's more than enough. Retirement has been good for you. You've become a good father and family man, doing all the right things to give your son and your family a good life. That's all that matters. You've done Shawn, Robin, Aaron and Stacy proud. Don't throw it away.”
Michael turned to look at him, still breathing heavy.
“Is there still hope for me if I go? Will things still work out in the end?”
“I can't tell you what will happen,” Dudley said. “But I think you'll find it worth your while.”
“Well, I guess that settles it, then.”
“Glad to hear it. You'll be doing both of us a favor,” Dudley said with a wink. He picked up the play and stuffed it back into his pocket.
“So that part in the movie is true too?”
“More or less. It's more accurate than The Irishman, at least. Well, I think our time here is done. I hope you'll do the right thing.”
“I will,” Michael said. “Thanks for the help. I guess you weren't so bad after all.”
“That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
“And there's that sarcasm again.”
“Actually, it wasn't” Dudley replied as he headed off on his way. He gave Michael a salute from the bottom of the stairs and was gone. Michael slumped back in his chair and knew what he had to do.
“I said, are you okay?”
Michael jumped back to attention.
“Oh yeah, I'm fine. Never been better.”
Robin rolled her eyes. More than ever, that sure was clearly a lie. Michael's right leg bounced up and down as he sat at the table. Nope, he wasn't good at all. And this sure wasn't good either. There was nothing good about this. He knew it was bad from the moment they came in for results and sent him back in this room. A small room off the waiting room where a doctor will come to give some news. Nope, not good at all.
He could already picture all the uses for this room. This is probably where they stuffed people in for all the terrible news they couldn't tell them out in the open. Sorry, your kid couldn't survive the gunshot wounds. Sorry, your wife won't come out of the coma. Sorry, your head is--
Nope, don't think about it, he tried to reassure himself. But he just couldn't help it. This was the reality. It was coming right at him and it was all over.
That Dudley really screwed him over. Told him it would all be alright in no uncertain terms. Yeah, what a crock that turned out to be. The bastard probably didn't even exist at all. This was just some demented brain injury fever dream he cooked up himself. And now here he was, ready for his death sentence.
A knock came on the door, and a doctor walked in. He said his name, but it blew right past him. Michael's eyes were too transfixed on the folder in front of him, as if he could somehow make out what the papers would say. They may or may not have shaken hands, it was too confusing to notice. And then the guy started talking and talking. So many words. So many words. Stop it with all the words. In the middle of all the mumbo jumbo, Michael heard only one word.
“Tumor.”
Michael dropped facedown onto the table. Robin quickly tried to shake him back into reality.
“Michael, Michael, are you alright?”
“He said tumor!”
“No, he didn't. Please listen to him.”
“Michael, I'm sorry to shock you,” the doctor said. “But it's not as bad as it sounds. You have what's called a pseudotumor.”
“A what now?”
“A pseudotumor. It's a pressure in your head that appears to be a tumor based on the symptoms, but actually isn't.”
“That's a real thing?”
“It is. And I must say, I was surprised to see that you have this. It's much more common in women than men. You don't see this in men very often. So I'm thinking something specific must have caused this. You're a wrestler, correct?”
“That's right,” Michael answered.
“Have you taken any kind of steroid or growth hormone recently?”
“S***.”
“Michael, you didn't,” Robin said.
“I had no choice! It was the only way I could get through those matches in top form.”
“Unbelievable. And after you were clean through your whole career.”
“That almost certainly did it,” the doctor said. “And I'm going to tell you right now to never take that stuff again. You played with fire there, Mr. Knight. And you got lucky. If you waited much longer, you probably would have lost your sight.”
“I won't ever. So I'm going to be alright?”
“You will. I'm going to prescribe you some medication that will help reduce the pressure. You should feel better in about a week or so. Now, it's important to come back as soon as possible if this happens again. It can reoccur.”
Michael hardly even heard the last part. He jumped to his feet and bearhugged first the doctor and then Robin.
“Thank you so much,” he said, throwing on his coat.
“What are you doing?” Robin asked?
“We've got to hurry on home! I can still catch Jeopardy with Aaron.”
He hugged the doctor again and rushed out of the door.
Michael laced up his boots and paced around the locker room. Here it was now, almost time. What would come of this? It was hard to get his hopes given the way everything had gone down thus far. And now, he had no choice but to go in clean. But who cared anyway? His head was clear and he felt good again. All that mattered was this new lease on life again.
Whether he won or lost, he knew on thing now: he could go full circle. Whatever was left in the tank, he knew now he could safely give it all and leave everything in the ring. One more time, one last ride against a fitting group of the past, present and future. It was kind of funny. After all these years, he still found himself in a match filled with new opponents. By the time he'd come up, Destroyer was already the legend with a record breaking reign. They'd never even once been on a level playing field when in the same company. Time would only tell if they were now.
He'd learned the book on Billy Broom and Johnny Mason real fast on the shows he was on. And in Billy's case, on the news too. Just his luck, the one potential felon in the WFWF just happened to be wanted in his own city. Well, the one felon he knew about at least. Some of these other guys were probably up to weird s*** too. Both him and Mason were in crazed states thanks to their personal life. And in a lot of ways, Michael understood that. He had been that guy once. Hell, he had been that guy in 2007 at Survival of the Fittest. He almost wanted to tell them to get their lives together. Look at me, he'd say. I was there too and I did it. Then he'd be an intern like Dudley.
2007 to 2020. Everything had changed since then. That night, he won everything and lost it all at the same time. Now he'd already won everything that mattered most. If we won here, it would be time for a final honeymoon period, racing towards a title shot. And he if lost, he was still walking away with more than he'd ever won before: everything.
There was a knock at the door as he put his robe on.
“Come in.”
Robin opened the door and Aaron rushed in. He gave his dad a big hug, nearly toppling Michael over in the process.
“Good luck! Are you ready to go?”
“As ready as I'll ever be. Speaking of which, you two better get to your seats. You don't want to miss the start of the match.”
“Roger that. We'll walk you there and then go.”
“Oh, Michael,” Robin said, walking into the room. It was only then that Michael noticed the book in her hand. She handed it to him, looking as confused as he was.
“Some guy handed me this and said to give it to you. Don't know what the deal is.”
Michael looked down and saw the title of the thin tome: You Can't Take it With You. A smile creeped across his face, and he already felt the emotions bubbling up in him. It became a little harder to control when he opened the book to the first page.[/b][/i]
Michael,
You're no George Bailey, but I think you'll do. Thanks,
Dudley
“Who's that from?”
“Just a friend of mine,” he said, when he was finally able to speak again. “Alright, let's go. It's showtime.”
The people most important to him accompanied him to the spot behind the curtain. Then it was time for the walk to the ring. The last time? Who knew now. Either option was plenty fine.
He stepped into the ring, and the chamber lowered. The bell rang. He looked up and smiled.
He couldn’t figure out how it all went so wrong. The return made so much sense on paper. If not now, when? And there was so much reason to, with facets of his legacy getting gradually ripped away.
Then it got pear shaped in a hurry.
It wasn’t right that he found himself in worse shape than he realized. It wasn’t right that he needed to rely on some external help to get in fighting shape. It wasn’t right that his attempt to save face and get a preferential entry spot didn’t work out. It wasn’t right that the vice around his head kept tightening and tightening until he was about to burst.
And it sure as hell wasn’t right that he was able to sit out on his porch in the middle of February. Al Gore may not have invented the internet, but he sure was right about the climate change.
He was glad to have this chance to just sit and think, though. It was hard to find to find a quiet moment, now more than ever. And with this damn awful feeling, all he wanted was a quiet time to breathe. This wouldn’t fix it, but it could be a whole lot worse.
What the hell was he going to do?
Robin was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He needed to go and do something about this. At this point, he wasn’t even sure he could survive that goddamn chamber match. Trying to get into the last spot was his last saving grace. Maybe then he could have smoked and mirrored his way through it. But going first? He’d be coming out in a body bag.
This was no way for a career to end. Survival of the Fittest would have been the perfect culmination of his career: achieving a new height in the same match where he first became a star. Full circle, how nice. A real Hollywood ending.
But no, now the circle was broken. And so was he.
He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling of the porch. No answers about what to do came.
By the time he put his head back down, he noticed something odd coming towards him. Someone walking down the street this late at night didn’t make much sense. Not much foot traffic went around here, being in one of those neighborhoods that didn’t even have sidewalks. He always figured that was to deter pedestrians. It sure wasn’t stopping this guy, though.
Michael leaned in for a better look. It was hard to tell any distinct features, but what he could see made it even stranger. The dude was wearing a suit. And even worse, he stopped right at the bottom of the steps.
“Whatever you want, I’m not interested.” Michael called out. The man didn’t budge at first. Then he slowly began to climb the stairs.
“Don’t come closer, I’ve got a gun.”
He didn’t. And the guy didn’t stop either.
“Nice to meet you, Michael,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Dudley.”
“How do you know my name?” Michael asked, ignoring the handshake attempt. “Are you with some Russian troll farm?”
“Oh no, they work with the other side,” Dudley said, sitting down on the porch chair next to Michael. Michael, for his part, recoiled back. “I’m just here to help you.”
“I don’t know your deal is, but you’re creeping me out. I’ll be calling the cops if you don’t get out of here soon.”
“That won’t do you any good, I’m afraid. I’ll try to make things a little clearer. It seems you’ve been having a bit of trouble lately, so I’m here to help you and guide you some.”
“Oh come on. Robin sent you to talk to me?”
“No, no,” Dudley said, shaking his head. “This part is always the hardest. I'm a special kind of person, so to speak. Sent here from elsewhere to give you some guidance in your time of need.”
“Oh hell no,” Michael said, getting up from his chair. “I knew this head was messing me up, but this hallucination is ridiculous. I'm just going to go in the house now. If you're real, please leave. If you're not, I assume you'll disappear.”
He made his way to the door, not looking again at the whatever it was next to him.
“Don't try to open the door. It won't open.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I left the door unlock--” Michael tugged on the door, but nothing happened.
“Take a seat, Michael.”
Michael reluctantly headed back to his seat, this time not taking his eyes off this Dudley fellow. Something was up here, and he didn't like it one bit. He liked it even less not knowing what was going on.
“Whoever you are, I don't want anything to do with this,” Michael said. “Even if you are what you claim to be, this is not something I'm getting mixed up in. I'm no George Bailey.”
“That's for damn sure.”
“Yeah, like I'm supposed to believe you're some angel with that attitude.”
“I've had some insubordination issues,” Dudley said with a shrug.
“Would I have known any of your past work?”
“You know Keith Richards?”
“You're the one who just got him to quit smoking?” Michael asked.
“Oh no, that was somebody else. Years ago I was trying to help with out with something. Long story short, he ends up falling out of a coconut tree.”
“Great, so I got the s****y one at that.”
“What can I say? I'm an intern. Look, here's the thing. I'm just going to get on with it. You are killing yourself right now by not going to a doctor. You know something is wrong with you, and you won't confront it. You've worked a long time to turn your life around and be a better person than before. You can't throw that all away now.”
“All lovely points, but I'm not taking advice from someone who may not even exist. Again, leave.”
Michael got up from the chair again. This time, he yanked on the door even harder. Still nothing budged. Harder and harder still, with his head pounding more each time. Nothing. He looked back at Dudley, who was now lounging back reading a book.
“I already told you, you can't go in there now,” Dudley said. “Not until we're done.”
“You're reading a book?”
“Of course. Well, it's a play. You Can't Take it With You. Gotta pass the time when people like you take too long to get to the point. It's pretty good, made into another Capra movie. You should read it if you get the chance. And well, if you're able in the future.”
“Cut the crap, Clarence,” Michael shot back. “What am I supposed to be doing now? You're going to force me to do this?”
“No no, not at all. If we could force people to do the right thing, do you think we would have ever let Rob Manfred be baseball commissioner? I can just show you the right path. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to show you how much you have changed, how much you've grown. Maybe then you'll appreciate more what you have and why you can't throw it away. And then I'll show you what's on the line here.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Can you quit speaking in riddles already?”
“You don't need to be so difficult. Fine, let's just get started.” Dudley snapped his fingers.
~ ~
At once they're on the ramp, staring up at a wrestling ring. Michael swirled around, looking at the packed arena and back to the stage. This is a big event, and the crowd is into it. He eventually stopped and focused on what's going on in the arena. In an instant he knows the date, time and place. There he is, right in the ring, looking a lot younger and a lot dumber. Why did he think that hair was good? God, what a dweeb.
“This is Survival of the Fittest 2007! My big coming out party. This was the night I really took off.”
All at once he forgets the absurdity of this whole situation. Now he's just watching the match. Pierce Deville, the overwhelmingly favorite, has him locked tight in the Gridlock. This is the result everyone expected, and now it's all but certain. A valiant effort by the International Champion, but it doesn't matter in the end. Except . . . it did. Out of nowhere, Thunder reverses into a pinning predicament and gets a flash pin. The crowd jumps to their feet as Thunder rolls out of the ring. In flash, it happened and everything changed.
“This night was the best. You know, people were pissed when I won. Pierce Deville was supposed to be the golden child, the next big star. And I ruined it for everyone.”
“You certainly had a good night here.”
“You know, this is one of the purest good nights I ever had as a wrestler. Even my title win the show after got ruined, just so I could be an afterthought of Obo and Deville. And then Deville got blackballed later anyway. All I wanted was some respect.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, I guess you do,” Michael said. The show has already moved on to the next match, where EBR and CBT are fighting in the battle of the acronyms or something. “But why did you show me this? I know all about it, and quite frankly, I don't need a reminder that I'm going to suck in the newest Survival of the Fittest Match.”
“I need you to see what you were then, not just as a wrestler, but as a man. Do you know what else went on that night?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“You'll soon find out.”
Dudley snaps his fingers again.
~ ~
Now they're in a space he recognizes immediately. His house, his old one. The one he'd sold some time ago, before he got his upgraded retired wrestler/writer home. The one that was both bigger and more sensible. The one that didn't carry some awful memories of Stacy and the loss of her. They're in the living room, sitting empty and quiet, save for the TV humming at a low volume.
“What's the point of this? Obviously my house was empty. I was at the show. What gives?”
“Oh, it wasn't empty, Mr. Bailey.”
Footsteps leave the kitchen and make their way to the living room. And there she is, standing in front of him once again. The woman he loved the most, even when he failed to show it. The woman who loved him, despite all his flaws. He'd looked at her picture so many times over the intervening years, and now she was here in front of her again. Michael rushed over to her, his arms outstretched. He felt nothing as he did so, and it was apparent she didn't either.
“She's not going to see you or feel you, Michael. Save yourself the emotional distress.”
“Distress? When do you care about my distress? You're the one who just dropped me in this without warning.”
“Just watch. This is the same night as your big win. See what happened on the home front while you were gone.”
Stacy paces around the room, holding the phone up to her ear. She eventually pulls it away and looks at the face of it. She dials a number again, and puts it back up to her ear. Finally, she gives up on the call and throws the phone across the room. It hits a stack of DVDs on a shelf and crashes down. Stacy, for her part, crashes down onto the couch herself.
“Where is he? Goddammit.”
“Do you know what she's so upset about Michael?” Dudley asks.
“I think I can safely assume it's about me. It would check out.”
“Bingo. You see, you were supposed to call her after the show was done. She really wanted to talk to you, because the two of you were having trouble lately. Needless to say, you hadn't reacted in the most mature way to her pregnancy. You decided to run from it and you kept on dodging it. And do you remember what happened when you actually talked to her that night, Michael?”
“Oh god.”
“Correct. You blew her off again, as he tried to talk to you about her pregnancy. You went through one of your many breakups that night. And then she went out driving and got into a car accident.”
“I’m aware,” Michael said. He could no longer look at Stacy. He stared off into one corner, transfixing his eyes on the blank wall space. Anything not to look at her now. He couldn’t.
“I’ll spare showing you the crash itself.”
With that, Michael has finally had enough. He jerks back towards Dudley, getting far into his face.
“What is the purpose of this? Are you trying to prove I’m a bad person? News flash, I already know. It’s no secret, and it hasn’t been for fifteen f***ing years. I’m all too aware of it, buddy, because I’ve got to live with the stuff I’ve done. It eats at me every day. I’m a bad person, and I don’t need reminded.”
“No, Michael. You’re not. You were a bad person. I need you to see what you were and how much you’ve changed. It’s more than you think. Let’s jump ahead ten years from this date.”
Snap.
~ ~
At least he was in a more familiar and comfortable room now: his current living room. The room is empty, with the lights bright and the TV blasting some commercial for a medication. Michael can tell right away that this is a fairly recent time. Toys are scattered on the floor, books are strewn across the coffee table in no particular order.
Aaron runs in, bowl of popcorn in hand. If it wasn’t for the area rug over the carpeting, he’d probably slide straight through into the couch. Instead, he just makes a straight run for it.
“You’re going to miss Double Jeopardy!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Michael calls out before wandering back into the room.
“Hey, isn’t that my seat?”
“Not any more,” Aaron says, sticking sticking his tongue out. Michael smiles and takes the other seat on the couch. Meanwhile, Jeopardy has returned to the screen.
“Paul Revere,” Aaron says in response to an answer. “Lafayette,” he responds to the next one.
“You’re getting pretty good at this.”
“It’s a gift.”
“A gift you got from your mother and I, I might add. We used to watch together a lot, you know.”
“Did mom win a lot?” Aaron asks?
“She may have had the edge against me.”
“It’s okay,” Aaron says, patting Michael on the shoulder. “I’ll let you win.”
Michael continued to look on, transfixed until Dudley placed a hand on his back and patted it.
“See Michael, you did change. Not a lot of people could change like you did, and be better than before. Nobody thought you could do it. Shawn sure didn’t think you could. But you did, and you know it. You know you came a long way, but I don’t think you’ve realized just how far you’ve come.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“And would you like more of these moments with your son?”
“Obviously,” Michael said. “There’s nothing I want more than that.”
“Then why won't you go to the doctor's and find out what's wrong?”
“I don't know. I just . . . I don't . . .”
“Why won't you go to the doctor's, Michael?”
Michael turned and looked Dudley in the eyes.
“Because I'm afraid, okay! You happy now? I'm scared out of my mind, because I know I'm a dead man walking once I go in there.”
“For one, you don't know that. And even if it is, not going doesn't alter the truth in any way. In fact, it just hurts yourself. Here's a wild idea. Maybe something is wrong that can be fixed?”
“I know, I know. You're probably right. It's just . . . I don't know . . . it's so overwhelming and . . .”
Dudley sighs.
“It could have been so easy, Michael. I thought we would be done here. You're a stubborn bastard, though.”
“Yes, I'm aware of that too. Very astute of you, Clarence.”
“Whatever. Well, if I've got to do it, I've got to do it. It's your funeral, so to speak.”
“What do you--”
Snap.
~ ~
“Where are we now?” Michael asks Dudley.
“Oh, this is five years later.”
“Five years from what?”
“Great, you're dense too. You'll see.”
“Lunch will be ready in a second!” Robin calls out. Aaron doesn't respond. He just looks down at his phone, scrolling away. The TV is also on, but he doesn't look up at that particular screen. Robin enters a moment later, dropping a grilled cheese in front of him on the table.
“Thanks.”
“Any time. So, is there anything you want to do today?”
“Not really.”
“Now, now. I'm sure there must be something fun you want to do. We've got to do something.”
Aaron shrugs.
“Why do we have to live here?” he asks.
“I just think it's best for right now. We don't want to use up any of the college money Uncle Shawn put away for you. And since I can't work right now, selling the house gives us extra money to live off in the meantime.”
“You can go back to work, honest. I'll be fine.”
“I'm sure you will,” Robin says, wrapping an arm around him. “But for now, I'll stay here just to be safe.”
Michael's eyes darted around the room, trying to figure out what was going on here. It was starting to add up a little, and he wasn't liking the looks of it at all. And he wasn't about to do the math and embrace just how bad it really was.
“Just tell me what's going on. I don't want to watch this any more.”
“You know very well what's going on, I think. Whether you want to admit it is a different thing entirely.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michael said. “You're spooking me with what happens when I'm dead. I get all that. But I don't understand whey they had to sell the house? What's wrong with Aaron?”
“Does he seem a little off to you?”
“Yes, he does. And I don't like the way they're talking either. Something is up and I want you to tell me so I can get out of here.”
“In due time,” Dudley said. Then, he pointed back to the scene to get Michael's attention. “You may get a hint right about now.”
Aaron starts eating, his overgrown sleeves barely giving his fingers any room to grab a hold of the sandwich. Robin takes notice of this right away. It's a dance they seem to be familiar with.
“Aaron honey, roll up your sleeves. You're going to mess them all up doing that.”
“I don't want to.”
“It's fine. I don't care.”
Aaron shrugs.
“Come on now, don't be silly. You're among friends here, and it's no big deal anyway. Here, I'll do it for you.”
Aaron relents as Robin takes a hold of one wrist and then the other. In a moment, both sleeves are rolled up. Aaron goes back to eating as Robin remains by his side.
Michael couldn't look at it for too long. He leaned as the moment occurred, trying to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was. And then, once it was confirmed, he turned his head away. He found himself staring at yet another corner, trying to gaze off at anything except what he had just seen.
“Christ,” Michael said, once the lump in his throat went away. “How bad is it for him?”
“He made one attempt, but had lots of other issues and incidents on top of that. Robin blew through a lot of your money trying to manage things and setting up therapy, and then selling the house became the only sensible option. She's not working until Aaron goes back to school, just to be safe.”
“I . . . I didn't know it would be that bad.”
“It's hard for a kid to have no parents at all.”
“And how is Robin holding up?”
“She's trying her best.”
Michael allowed himself to look over at them one more time. Aaron continues to sheepishly eat, small bites at a time. Robin leans her head back for a moment and seems to doze off before jolting awake again. Aaron doesn't notice, he's too busy staring off into the distance. Like father, like son.
“Can we please go back home now?” Michael asked, turning his head away again. Dudley nodded, and they were off.
~ ~
Michael found himself back on his porch, checking around to make sure he was really in his space and surroundings. To his left was the copy of You Can't Take it With You. He was almost relieved, except that wasn't exactly a sign he was in the rational right now either. But at least he appeared to be home. He stopped looking and just stared out onto the road ahead of him, where this man had appeared not too long ago. There he remained, just looking and trying to control his breathing.
“Do you understand now, Michael?”
“I think I do.”
“You've come a long way. You know the man you used to be, consumed with your professional success to the detriment of the people in your life. You turned it all around. You did the rarest of all things, completely growing and changing who you are.”
“Is that enough to make up for everything else?”
“It's more than enough. Retirement has been good for you. You've become a good father and family man, doing all the right things to give your son and your family a good life. That's all that matters. You've done Shawn, Robin, Aaron and Stacy proud. Don't throw it away.”
Michael turned to look at him, still breathing heavy.
“Is there still hope for me if I go? Will things still work out in the end?”
“I can't tell you what will happen,” Dudley said. “But I think you'll find it worth your while.”
“Well, I guess that settles it, then.”
“Glad to hear it. You'll be doing both of us a favor,” Dudley said with a wink. He picked up the play and stuffed it back into his pocket.
“So that part in the movie is true too?”
“More or less. It's more accurate than The Irishman, at least. Well, I think our time here is done. I hope you'll do the right thing.”
“I will,” Michael said. “Thanks for the help. I guess you weren't so bad after all.”
“That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
“And there's that sarcasm again.”
“Actually, it wasn't” Dudley replied as he headed off on his way. He gave Michael a salute from the bottom of the stairs and was gone. Michael slumped back in his chair and knew what he had to do.
~ ~
“I said, are you okay?”
Michael jumped back to attention.
“Oh yeah, I'm fine. Never been better.”
Robin rolled her eyes. More than ever, that sure was clearly a lie. Michael's right leg bounced up and down as he sat at the table. Nope, he wasn't good at all. And this sure wasn't good either. There was nothing good about this. He knew it was bad from the moment they came in for results and sent him back in this room. A small room off the waiting room where a doctor will come to give some news. Nope, not good at all.
He could already picture all the uses for this room. This is probably where they stuffed people in for all the terrible news they couldn't tell them out in the open. Sorry, your kid couldn't survive the gunshot wounds. Sorry, your wife won't come out of the coma. Sorry, your head is--
Nope, don't think about it, he tried to reassure himself. But he just couldn't help it. This was the reality. It was coming right at him and it was all over.
That Dudley really screwed him over. Told him it would all be alright in no uncertain terms. Yeah, what a crock that turned out to be. The bastard probably didn't even exist at all. This was just some demented brain injury fever dream he cooked up himself. And now here he was, ready for his death sentence.
A knock came on the door, and a doctor walked in. He said his name, but it blew right past him. Michael's eyes were too transfixed on the folder in front of him, as if he could somehow make out what the papers would say. They may or may not have shaken hands, it was too confusing to notice. And then the guy started talking and talking. So many words. So many words. Stop it with all the words. In the middle of all the mumbo jumbo, Michael heard only one word.
“Tumor.”
Michael dropped facedown onto the table. Robin quickly tried to shake him back into reality.
“Michael, Michael, are you alright?”
“He said tumor!”
“No, he didn't. Please listen to him.”
“Michael, I'm sorry to shock you,” the doctor said. “But it's not as bad as it sounds. You have what's called a pseudotumor.”
“A what now?”
“A pseudotumor. It's a pressure in your head that appears to be a tumor based on the symptoms, but actually isn't.”
“That's a real thing?”
“It is. And I must say, I was surprised to see that you have this. It's much more common in women than men. You don't see this in men very often. So I'm thinking something specific must have caused this. You're a wrestler, correct?”
“That's right,” Michael answered.
“Have you taken any kind of steroid or growth hormone recently?”
“S***.”
“Michael, you didn't,” Robin said.
“I had no choice! It was the only way I could get through those matches in top form.”
“Unbelievable. And after you were clean through your whole career.”
“That almost certainly did it,” the doctor said. “And I'm going to tell you right now to never take that stuff again. You played with fire there, Mr. Knight. And you got lucky. If you waited much longer, you probably would have lost your sight.”
“I won't ever. So I'm going to be alright?”
“You will. I'm going to prescribe you some medication that will help reduce the pressure. You should feel better in about a week or so. Now, it's important to come back as soon as possible if this happens again. It can reoccur.”
Michael hardly even heard the last part. He jumped to his feet and bearhugged first the doctor and then Robin.
“Thank you so much,” he said, throwing on his coat.
“What are you doing?” Robin asked?
“We've got to hurry on home! I can still catch Jeopardy with Aaron.”
He hugged the doctor again and rushed out of the door.
~ ~
Michael laced up his boots and paced around the locker room. Here it was now, almost time. What would come of this? It was hard to get his hopes given the way everything had gone down thus far. And now, he had no choice but to go in clean. But who cared anyway? His head was clear and he felt good again. All that mattered was this new lease on life again.
Whether he won or lost, he knew on thing now: he could go full circle. Whatever was left in the tank, he knew now he could safely give it all and leave everything in the ring. One more time, one last ride against a fitting group of the past, present and future. It was kind of funny. After all these years, he still found himself in a match filled with new opponents. By the time he'd come up, Destroyer was already the legend with a record breaking reign. They'd never even once been on a level playing field when in the same company. Time would only tell if they were now.
He'd learned the book on Billy Broom and Johnny Mason real fast on the shows he was on. And in Billy's case, on the news too. Just his luck, the one potential felon in the WFWF just happened to be wanted in his own city. Well, the one felon he knew about at least. Some of these other guys were probably up to weird s*** too. Both him and Mason were in crazed states thanks to their personal life. And in a lot of ways, Michael understood that. He had been that guy once. Hell, he had been that guy in 2007 at Survival of the Fittest. He almost wanted to tell them to get their lives together. Look at me, he'd say. I was there too and I did it. Then he'd be an intern like Dudley.
2007 to 2020. Everything had changed since then. That night, he won everything and lost it all at the same time. Now he'd already won everything that mattered most. If we won here, it would be time for a final honeymoon period, racing towards a title shot. And he if lost, he was still walking away with more than he'd ever won before: everything.
There was a knock at the door as he put his robe on.
“Come in.”
Robin opened the door and Aaron rushed in. He gave his dad a big hug, nearly toppling Michael over in the process.
“Good luck! Are you ready to go?”
“As ready as I'll ever be. Speaking of which, you two better get to your seats. You don't want to miss the start of the match.”
“Roger that. We'll walk you there and then go.”
“Oh, Michael,” Robin said, walking into the room. It was only then that Michael noticed the book in her hand. She handed it to him, looking as confused as he was.
“Some guy handed me this and said to give it to you. Don't know what the deal is.”
Michael looked down and saw the title of the thin tome: You Can't Take it With You. A smile creeped across his face, and he already felt the emotions bubbling up in him. It became a little harder to control when he opened the book to the first page.[/b][/i]
Michael,
You're no George Bailey, but I think you'll do. Thanks,
Dudley
“Who's that from?”
“Just a friend of mine,” he said, when he was finally able to speak again. “Alright, let's go. It's showtime.”
The people most important to him accompanied him to the spot behind the curtain. Then it was time for the walk to the ring. The last time? Who knew now. Either option was plenty fine.
He stepped into the ring, and the chamber lowered. The bell rang. He looked up and smiled.