"Look, I've just got to go. It's important."
Stacy Lee was exasperated, as her husband had been mentally checked out for weeks now. She knew he was dealing with something, but he wouldn't open up about it. This was extremely frustrating for her, as the two had supported each other through everything. She knew he got secretive about his mental illness, in spite of how many times she told him not to, and was worried this was one of those times.
Was he getting psychotic again? Was she at risk of losing him for good? His friend Lucy had convinced her to go back to him, but now it seemed he was pushing her away. The fact that it happened just as they were getting to a good place again was the frustrating part. It seemed they had some serious communication problems, which she blamed herself for.
Not just herself though. He was definitely not blameless. Mental illness was not an excuse for treating this marriage as a partnership, which they agreed upon from day one.
And if it wasn't his bipolar disorder, that voice in his head or his penchant for violence, then he was entirely at fault. That's what a small part of her was worried about, a part that perhaps wasn't exactly conscious, but buried somewhere in the recesses of her brain. It was the thought that only came to her when she was in between sleep and wakefulness, throwing her hand on a cold spot where his body should be in the bed.
"You've been leaving a lot lately, is what I'm saying. I let my sister keep Lizzy for the night just so we could have this time together."
"I know, and I'm sorry. But I'll be back tonight. I've got to take care of this."
"Of what? Why is it a secret?"
"Because it's not my place to say. I've got to help someone. Just trust me, okay?"
She wanted to. But part of her didn't. Even if something wasn't going on, the very fact that he was keeping secrets...
Yes, it was in character for him to do, especially if his medication wasn't working, but she thought they were past that. With everything that had happened between them, they were frankly too old for this high school bullshit.
She was in a towel, freshly-showered as she planned on a night out with her husband. Normal married activities, something every other couple enjoyed. A date. Some dinner. Maybe come home for sex, if the drinks didn't get head too foggy. Or maybe especially if they did, she wasn't picky. Just a boring and routine night, in the grand scheme of things. Considering his profession, his illness and her history with addiction, boring was actually fairly uncommon for them. Lizzy exacerbated the problem, although she would never trade her daughter for anything. In spite of his distant behavior with her, she was certain he felt the same way.
When he was around Lizzy, his eyes still sparkled and he treated her like she was his everything. That baby was his world, and that's when the real Joe, the one that only she knew, really came out.
All she wanted was for that Joe to stick around and spend time with her.
"Joe it's not..."
She wasn't sure how to proceed. She didn't want to offend him. She'd done enough of that lately.
"You're not hearing voices again, are you?"
He tensed up, almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it would be to someone who didn't know him like she did. Then he sighed and it was gone as quickly as it happened.
"I'm not. The meds are actually working, even if they've been giving me headaches."
"Well, you know what your doctor said about that."
"Yes, I know."
"If it's not that then..."
He reached forward and gently grabbed her shoulders. The look on his face softened. What did she see there, was it...guilt? Sadness? Or was it just love and the negative emotions were just things she was creating in her mind?
"I can't say. I really can't. But you don't have to worry. I'm fine. I'll be back tonight, then we can have that night out. Michelle will be happy to keep Lizzy a little longer, right?"
"I guess, but..."
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Even with the act of affection, it felt hollow. She told her mind to quiet down and start taking things at face value.
"Then we'll do it tomorrow. I just have to take care of this. I promise."
She forced herself to smile, although she was sure it was a small one. She let out a tiny sigh, then put a hand on his chest.
"Okay. Go do whatever you need to do. But I hope you'll tell me about it later."
"If I can, I will. But, it's not really up to me."
She stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss on his lips. He returned it briefly, before taking a step back. Once again, she felt like she was reading too much into it. But in spite of her rational mind's attempts to talk her out of it, she already knew what she was going to do. She trusted him, but she had to be sure. She had to know. So she was planning something that was completely unlike her.
"Okay. Be safe, Joe. I love you."
"I love you too, Stace. I'll be back tonight."
She did love him. Even with the doubts she had, she still loved him.
It was why she planned on following him wherever he had to go.
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For once, JC felt pretty good about lying to his wife.
Perhaps lying wasn't the best word, because he was as truthful as he could be. He was helping a friend. That friend was Lucy, which he could have said, but Stacy didn't need to know the grisly details of what was going on in Lucy's life. He regretted that he had to know them.
The only thing that made him feel bad about hiding things from his wife was that he was getting better at it. He loved Stacy, and while this lie was important, the others weren't. His entire marriage had been a string of betrayals right after the moment he realized how he felt about Lucy. This was just the latest.
But how would he have even said that?
Hey Stacy, sorry I have to leave. Some idiot that listens to the Cure too much lost his mind and dug up Lucy's father, and so now she's hearing voices again. You know, like I did. I'm going to go be with a fellow crazy person, because things are just a little too sane here.
Perhaps if he said that, she'd throw him out before he could go on his own. It sounded ridiculous and it sounded like way more drama than either of them should have to deal with. But this was his life now. As it turned out, there weren't many normal people in wrestling. Lucy had this mess going on, his other friend, Trent Steel, nearly killed himself to prove a point. His brother was out of the business entirely, deciding his love life was more important.
And even that seemed relatively normal compared to the people Lucy interacted with over in UGWC. At least the worst Carnage had to offer was a vain former World champion and a corrupt president. That was basically par for the course.
That was something Stacy never got. The business was weird and attracted a lot of strange people, but at the end of the day, when he stepped in that ring and competed, he felt at peace. Stacy never got, but Lucy certainly did.
Lucy, whose hand was wrapped around his as they made their way to the front door of her home, leaving the stinking carcass of her father behind to be someone else's problem for now. If the stench of death wasn't in his nostrils, perhaps he'd be more inclined to make a move. To just let his baser instincts take over and really show Lucy how much she meant to him.
But in a way, the smell of rot was welcome, because it kept him grounded in reality. As unrealistic as that reality felt.
"So that helped, right? Is he still in there?"
"I don't know if I'll ever get rid of him."
"I had a voice that tried to get me to beat my best friend to death. It's gone now."
"I'd rather not be doped up all the time."
"It's not fun. I get these headaches with my latest stuff but...it's worth it."
He opened the door for his friend, who was too otherwise preoccupied to do so. The brisk, October air hit him in the face almost as soon as he stepped out, reminding him that he left his jacket at home. He hadn't thought about it. Once Lucy said she needed help, he was practically beating down his wall just to get to the car and drive here. Three hours, just for this.
Even if he was completely honest with Stacy about what was happening, that alone would have seemed suspicious. He wasn't exactly flying out to Pittsburgh to aid Trent with whatever was going on with him. And Trent was the best man at his wedding.
Instead, he was in Baltimore, with a woman he had feelings for. He wished he didn't, but they were there all the same.
She followed him out and they walked a short distance to her car. She put her back to it and slid to the ground, taking a seat on the curb in lieu of actually getting inside. He chose to remain standing, leaning against the hood. He gave a cursory glace of the neighborhood, wondering if perhaps people wondered why they had returned to a crime scene.
He didn't notice the red Volvo parked behind a truck a few houses away, nor the red, wet eyes of the driver, who was standing outside of it, just out of his gaze.
"I'm just saying. Medication sucks but I mean, if you've got something going on, wouldn't you want it treated?"
"Of course. But what if this isn't an illness? What if this is just...me?"
He slid down himself next to her, although his bigger body made the sitting position a bit cumbersome. Lucy couldn't help but let out a brief chuckle at his awkwardness, in spite of the turmoil in her head. He scoffed, before finally answering her questions.
"I think the two of us, better than anyone, should know that flaws don't make us who we are."
"Normally I'd agree with you, but this.."
"...is sometimes too much to handle. I get it."
He rubbed his arms, thankful the car blocked the wind, even if he wasn't exactly comfortable.
"Did I ever tell you what I called my voice?"
"You had a name for it?"
"Yes. I called it my dark passenger. I took it from the show Dexter. But it fits. It's this psychotic, impulsive thing that used to convince me to do things. But whether or not I did those things, that voice was never in control. I was. I was weak and I gave in, until I couldn't take it anymore."
"Like mine told me to kill myself, then I tried."
"My point is that our voices aren't us. They're a symptom of something broken in us, but it's something that can be fixed. It's okay to not be okay."
"I like that. It actually kind of helps."
"Yeah, just tell yourself that whenever your bastard father ever speaks up out of turn."
"Well it's not exactly like you can kick him in the face to make him go away."
"I thought about kicking his body back there just for the hell of it."
"That's your solution to everything."
He gave her look, thinking she was letting things get to her again, only to find she was actually smiling. She nudged him and he chuckled back, enjoying the moment. He was glad he could make her feel a bit better.
She laughed a little, then pushed off on the pavement to pick herself up.
"We should probably go home now. It's cold as fuck out here."
"Oh good, I thought I was the only one."
He got himself up, narrowly avoiding falling on his ass as he did it, using her car for support. His own was parked across the street. The wind picked up a bit now, causing goosebumps to pop up on his uncovered forearms. In spite of the flames tattooed there, they were very cold.
"Next time you decide to team with My Chemical Romance, tell him to pick a warmer night to pull his crazy shit."
"Next time? I just hope he stays the fuck away from me."
He smiled again, a small one, and turned to go across the street to drive home. Stacy would be worried. She seemed so upset at his leaving earlier, and he wanted to at least...
He felt a smaller hand grasp his own, cold fingers locking around his palm.
"Joe?"
He turned back around and saw Lucy there, not really moving. She looked up at her and he marveled at her beauty. He always considered her attractive before, but it was more noticeable now when felt as he did. While her mascara had run some due to crying, her eyes blazed in the night.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for...everything."
"Any time. I'm always here for you, Luce."
He said this in a disinterested way, not because he lacked any interest but because he was focused on her face and this thought that kept creeping up. There was no foul smells out here, nothing to bring him back to reality. He had a dream, a desire, and there was no one, no thing, that could really stop him from acting on it.
JC leaned in slightly, noticed that Lucy was making no moves to back away in spite of his clear intent, and moved in a little more....
Suddenly the sound of speeding wheels erupted behind him, and his head jerked back. He turned and noticed some taillights taking off into the night. Suddenly he realized what he almost did, and turned back to Lucy, who was already fiddling with her keys.
"I should probably get going."
He didn't expect either of them to comment on what almost happened. There was no need. It couldn't happen, and however weak they almost were, they knew that.
"Me too. I've got...people at home."
He said his goodbye and went across the street, only looking back to see Lucy get in her car and drive away. He stood there for a moment, letting the cold air embrace him.
For some reason, he felt more alone than he ever had in his life.
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Is that line cliche enough for you? How's this one? If I had a dollar for every time I was right..
And let's be honest. I've been right about a lot of things. I told you Melody would lose her title. I told you I would give Amy Jo the fight of her life before beating her. And I told you that the very next show I'd cash in my points on a champion.
I just didn't tell you which one.
If I'm being honest, I did know which one until the show played out. What, was I going to waste my points on James Ceno? Sure, I could have come out and booted Melody in the mouth again if she snuck by Trent, but that didn't happen because I knew Trent would win. And as much as I'd enjoy throwing down with my friend again, I think I like the idea of ruling over the Ultraviolence division with an iron fist a little more.
This leads me, of course, to Magdalena Lockheart. I don't know Maggie very well. I know she was in a relationship with a friend of mine. I know she and I were on a team once. And I know that she's undefeated in Carnage and the current Ultraviolent champion. I meant every word that I said on Chaos. I see you as a challenge, and my career is lacking in challenges at the moment. Perhaps a bit of youthful enthusiasm standing in my way is just what I need to get over this professional rut I'm in. Your title will be a nice little reward for being the one to stop this miracle run in its tracks.
But that's next month. This week we have...The Monstimals. Two guys that for the life of me I can't figure out why they're here. Lord Raab certainly doesn't need backup. The tag division's not exactly thriving. But they're here, and they're weird, so I guess I'd better get used to it. It's just irritating that I have to get stuck with also-rans. They're not even Lord Raab, who at least has been in main events. They're his running buddies who have done fuck-all since coming here months ago. I won't be tested at Chaos 64 but my patience sure will be.
I suppose with a name like "Monstimal", it's meant to evoke fear of some kind. I'm not sure who a fat guy and a comic book villain cosplayer are supposed to intimidate. I know their theme song is pretty scary, as it would be to anyone with a working pair of ears. It sounds like someone stuck a cat in a garbage disposal.
I realize my words aren't exactly as biting as they normally are but that's because I've got absolutely nothing to work with here. A pair of losers that claim to be dominant. Who have you dominated? Who have you even beaten? A fluke win over my brother doesn't inspire dread in me.
Ultimately I'm just too good at what I do to get worked up over some losers dressing up and playing wrestler. Take your second-rate gimmicks and go trick or treating this Halloween, and leave the wrestling to those of us that can actually do it. Very few people in Carnage have been able to beat me, and I haven't been pinned here all year. I'll be damned if I let a team that thinks combining the words "monster" and "animal" is clever be the ones to do it.
Maybe after your established team gets beat by a pair that don't really know each other, you can go back to the drawing board an re-evaluate your life goals. You're not cut out for his business boys, no matter how many curse words and vague threats you send my way. I'm going to do what I always do, kick you in the face, win and move on to bigger and better things.
To paraphrase a bad movie, this could be the biggest match of your careers.
As for me, it's just Monday.
