Falling.
The funny thing about falling is that, in complete darkness, you can’t really tell when you’re going to hit the ground. You just know that it’s coming; eventually. With my eyes forcibly closed, time as I knew it stood still. I could feel our bodies flipping through the air, but at first I couldn’t tell when or where we’d land, or if we’d land at all.
Somehow, somewhere, in this reality or the next, I'm still falling.
I believe.
At the point where I was pulled off of the high balcony at the Hammerstein Ballroom I felt the last bit of security that I used to cling to so tightly leave me irrevocably. But at the moment that the gravity of all the choices in my life inevitably took over, I wasn’t scared. Actually, for a moment, I felt weightless, and I did not mind it at all. I had lost so much already that I was reserved to this. I no longer cared about the outcome as long as she was falling with me. Whatever was to catch me, be it break me or my fall, it could not hurt me.
As you can clearly see,
I’m already broken.
In these situations I imagine that other people see their lives flash before their eyes. But it's times like these that I am reminded that I am not of their kind. I saw nothing; at least nothing of the sort. The only thing I saw were the events that lead me here. Lead me to the point of this precipice, and why I was fully prepared to throw another human being off into the abyss even if it meant that she would, or could, try to take me with her. That's okay though, crashing through five folding tables and the concrete below teaches a human being lessons in ways that words never could. I accept my share of the blame; but a man has to draw a line somewhere, even if it is on the edge of oblivion. Now that we've both crossed the point of no return, I would have thought that this fall was inevitable. But this was the already inevitable; inevitable the moment that she made this fight, this feelings, the war between us personal. Besides…
I was already falling.
Falling long before this match ever began.
I saw, and heard, my wife of many years Stacy in my mind’s eye: perhaps the only vision I still had that wasn’t tainted red by blood and by fury. I was reminded of her words and realized almost immediately that I had been falling since then. Maybe, perhaps, even before. Perhaps I started falling the moment that Magdalena uttered the damning phrase that I almost wish I never heard. But I understand Stacy’s reasoning for leaving and for taking my daughter Lizzy with her. For once in my almost 43 year life I have to give myself credit for accepting the pain of the truth once it was brought (or should I say dragged) into the light. Granted, I wanted to hate myself for loving her; Lucy that is. And I wanted to hate myself for keeping those feelings hidden, but I had done nothing wrong. For once in my life, I wanted to take the brunt of this. I didn't want to hurt anyone.
Except Maggie, of course.
But to be completely honest, I’ve grown tired of it. Hating. I don’t hate Stacy for her decision, and I don’t hate myself for feeling what I feel, either. If anything, I’ve grown weary of trying to walk the ledge precariously. If falling was always going to be what fate had written for us, then it was time. Stacy, a woman who I truly love was strong enough and wise enough to see the writing on the wall. I'm not sure if I was ever the right man for her, but she knows that I tried to be. Trying does not guarantee success, and maybe that's the key. I'm not sure who I am anymore; that or maybe I never did. I realize that; now more than ever.
Maybe that's what triggered the fall.
And now, now that we're here, tumbling through the air and through the collective gasping of the crowd, I feel that temporary weightlessness and I know that it's only temporary. The only thing left to experience is the sudden stop at the end. Between you and I-
I cannot wa-
CRASH
Terra Skye: OH MY GOD!!!
Johnny Vegas: HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
Ray Payne: Oh my GAWDS... OH MaH GAWDS!!!
HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!
THAT WAS MUR-DER! *Clap clap clap-clap-clap* THAT WAS MUR-DER! *Clap clap clap-clap-clap*
C-DUB!! C-DUB!! C-DUB!!
--------------------------
“JC” Presents:
Falling Forever
--------------------------
JC didn’t know anything the moment that he woke up. Not who he was, where he was, or what day it was. His eyes fluttered. He came to feeling content not to move at all as it felt like there was a great weight on his chest holding him down. But except for the pressure of it, it did not hurt. For a moment he took this numbness and the accompanying ignorance behind it for what it was. Peaceful. The buzz in the arena surrounding him was muffled; near silent. He could feel his chest rising and falling as if the muscles he no longer were acquainted with were just following along on their own distant memory to do so. It almost felt good.
That was until he felt his arm moving, that is, when an EMT shook him by the wrist. Then everything flooded in at once: the pain, the reality, the fall.
He gasped and tried to shoot himself into a seated position, but the first responders held him down. They were initially concerned by the angle of the fall that Joe could have suffered some sort of catastrophic neck injury. They were pleasantly surprised to witness Joe move his extremities on his own. Still, with that kind of impact, they were reluctant to allow him to have freedom over his own movement too soon. Yet with the memory of who he was, the match he was just in, and what had just happened to him flooding back in; so too did his pride, and everything that he had ever stood for.
So Joe wasn’t going to allow them to carry him out of the Ballroom.
He’d have to be dead for that.
Still, he had been through hell. Still gathering his bearings, he put up little resistance as the EMTs rolled him onto the backboard and lifted him onto the stretcher. Every second that ticked by was another degree of pain that he felt: the impacts, the exertions, and all of the places where his lifesblood were still actively draining. He had to build the strength to sit up, but finally did when he noticed that they were about to fasten the straps to lock him down on that gurney. They pleaded with him not to, but JC slid off and fell to a single knee the moment his boots touched ground. But despite their attempts to urge him to allow them to help, Joe pulled himself up and stood on his own.
The ovation was thunderous, and it was the first real noise that came through without sounding as though he were hearing it with his head underwater. One step lead to two. Two to three. His body, granted, wanted to fail him. But his spirit would not share the damage. Joe continued in the only way he could, willing himself through the challenge. But he felt himself slipping again.
At least the ground was closer now.
Just as Joe felt his legs betraying him, there was a commotion among the crowd. He didn’t notice it, but a lanky blonde woman pushed her way past the onlookers and EMTs feverishly; and just in time. The Hammerstein Ballroom had started to become hazy and the symphony of voices surrounding him jumbled. Just as he felt his knees start to buckle beneath him, a foreign body threw herself under his arm, and grabbed him by the waist.
“Joe! Joe! Are you alright? Speak to me!”
He turned his head gingerly; peered down at the blonde to notice his own blood smearing on her hair, stain her clothes.
“Lucy…?” He said, his breath laboring.
“Yeah Joe?” She replied with concern on her voice. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need-”
He lowered his face to meet her eyes. To her, in that moment, he said only one word:
“...falling...”
His body tried to collapse once more, but she wouldn’t let it. She gripped him tighter, both arms around his waist, exerting her own strength if only it meant to keep him upright.
“No you’re not.” She said with a grunt. “Not if I can help it.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 2, 2018
JC pulled into the driveway expecting to return to an empty home.
He emerged from the truck, the war wounds of Ultimate Carnage sewn closed and covered over by fresh bandages from the hospital. He didn’t want to go, but Lucy insisted. As a matter of fact she took him herself. Now that that was over with, he had his gear-bag in hand. All that was left now was to pick up the pieces here. Stacy had to have taken the opportunity to get her and Lizzy out of what was undoubtedly an awkward and potentially toxic situation. If he were in Stacy’s position, that’s what he’d do.
But he was surprised to walk through the door to see things almost exactly as he had left them. Nothing was out of place, let alone missing. No bags were packed, no boxes stacked. Joe set down his gear bag in the threshold and pulled the front door shut carefully behind him.
He barely made it two steps before he was confronted by her. Stacy. But she didn’t seem angry. Instead she approached with a look of concern on her face. It caused him to feel so cautious about the situation that he nearly took a step back when she reached out for him.
“Come here.” She said with her hand outstretched. She reached for his cheek as she moved in for an embrace. “Let me see.”
The situation was uncomfortable, but Joe twisted his head to allow Stacy to see the bandages on his face.
“You didn’t happen to...”
“...watch the show?”
Stacy nodded her head with pursed lips.
“Should I not have?” She replied. “Despite all that’s happening, I still care for you Joe.”
He nodded his head softly.
“I know.”
“Did you expect me not to care anymore?”
“Of course I don’t expect that, Stace. I know you still care about my me. I know that because I still care about you.”
She nodded her head too.
“I know you do. I think.”
Stacy pushed the words through her lips before stepping aside and allowing Joe into the living room. Joe slinked over to the couch and threw himself back onto it, happy to be off his feet again.
“Can I get you anything?” Stacy asked. “Something to drink maybe?”
“No thanks. But I appreciate you asking.”
“Alrighty then.” She sighed. “If you change your mind, you just let me know.”
Stacy moved away, into the kitchen after a moment of awkward silence between them. She didn’t know how to express to him the thought that was on her mind. Joe, on the other hand, couldn’t figure out why she was being so nice to him. He thought about Lizzy, thought about asking Stacy if Lizzy was even here at the house at all.
“Stace?”
“Yeah Joe?”
“Lizzy wouldn’t happen to be here, would she? I’d really like to see her.”
Stacy approached cautiously. She sighed. It wasn’t a good sign.
“I sent her over to my sisters, Joe. I didn’t really want her seeing you like this. She can tell when you’re hurting and she doesn’t like that.”
Joe lowered his head.
“I understand.”
“Joe?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we need to talk.”
He knew that the moment was coming, and he would have been dreading it worse if he hadn’t already reserved himself to the possibility. Of course they’d have to talk eventually; have to figure out the most amicable way to cut ties with each other while keeping their daughter’s best interests in mind. To be honest, Joe didn’t think too much about it before his match at Ultimate Carnage, but it was the only thing on his mind the entire drive home.
Stacy asked Joe to move his feet so that she could sit at the other end of the couch. After sitting, she brushed her hair back over her shoulder and placed her hands in her lap.
“Joe. I can’t keep sending Lizzy away every time you want to go out fighting.”
“Who says that you have to?” Joe replied strongly, almost snapping back at her. “Regardless of how we feel about each other, I am still her father; and regardless of how you feel about me personally, I am still a good father to our daughter.”
“No, Joe, you’re not.” Stacy said back with just as much gusto. “I mean look at you. Look at what you did, or tried to do, in that car wreck that you want to call a wrestling match!”
Joe knew where this was going, and he didn’t like it. Obviously things between them were over and all that was left now was to figure out how they would go their separate ways. But when it came to Lizzy, He didn’t want to lose her.
“I would never do anything to hurt Lizzy and you know it.” He snarled and pointed his finger in Stacy’s direction. “How dare you even insinuate that.”
“It’s not about whether you would hurt her. It’s about that you don’t care anymore.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Listen to me. You might not realize this when you’re off chasing that blonde bimbo or, or, or- getting your body thrown off of balconies but it was never that I feel unsafe or uncomfortable around you, okay? You just don’t understand Joe.”
“Well please,” he responded calmly. “Help me understand Stace. Help me fix this so that I can at least see my own daughter.”
“You can’t-”
Stacy shook her head, her eyes welling with tears.
“You don’t care if you get hurt anymore,” She continued. “That’s the real problem. You want to know what makes you unfit to be around our daughter? That’s what it is, right there.”
Joe blinked as he looked across the couch at Stacy.
“What something were to happen to you? What if you fell off of that balcony and broke your neck? Or worse? What do I tell Lizzy then, huh? Do I tell her that, that-- that her Father had a vendetta that he had to settle? That some little bitch said something he didn’t like? That he wanted to go out and hurt people and that’s why he’s in a wheelchair? That’s why he’s dead?”
Everything that Stacy said really hit him hard. Joe parted his lips but Stacy stopped him before he could utter the first syllable.
“No, before you even say it.” She brushed her hair back and dabbed away her tears. “You are who you are. You can’t change, at least not in the way that I’d think that you need to. I think I’ve known you long enough now to know that you’ll always be the person that I watch on the television screen and not the one that you’re pretending to be in front of me now. So I just- I just- I don’t know anymore. I think- yeah- I want you to go. It would be best -- you should just go.”
A long moment of silence followed. Joe didn’t blink. Joe didn’t move. Joe didn’t say a word. Besides the shallowest of breaths, Joe could barely be considered to be alive at this, one of the lowest points of his life.
“Just pack a bag and go. Please.” Stacy said, more tears coming from her eyes. “We’ll make arrangements to have the rest of your stuff sent out to you when you’re settled in somewhere. But this will be what’s best for Lizzy… and for our family.”
Joe’s eyes began to well up as well. But he didn’t move, didn’t talk, didn’t say a word. His body started to shake, which made Stacy that much more nervous about the entire situation.
“Joe? Joe are you alright?”
She leaned over towards him.
“Say something -- speak to me.”
But as a single tear fell from his eye to his cheek, Joe could only think to say one thing.
“Stace?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 3, 2018
The cacophony of airplanes taking off and landing were the only noises that ever filled the sleazy Motel 6, room 124, while JC was occupying it.
The TV was turned off. The phone set to silent. The wrestling gear bag that JC lugged with him stood guard by the door and watched patiently for any malevolent intruders. Here it was quiet, here it was peaceful, and here it was only a five minute drive over to the JFK memorial airport terminal whenever the decision about where he would spend the rest of his life would finally be made. Of all of the planes JC heard, and the ones that he would inevitably listen to soon enough, at least half of them were headed to all points of the country; and some even further still. The knowledge that any one of those planes could have held him, carried him, taken him away to a new destiny was a sobering thought and a painful reality. In the end, it seemed, it just happened to be unavoidable.
He didn’t sit on the bed; didn’t sprawl out on the sleeper couch, either. JC didn’t even take a chair. He felt more comfortable sitting on the floor, back to the front wall where the large glass window was. He sat for minutes, maybe hours -- he wasn’t quite sure. He had reserved himself to sit there until he decided where he wanted to go next, but couldn’t get over the fact that he just didn’t want to go.
Dusk turned to day turned to night in a time-lapse. Though in his own perspective the clock on the wall trudged through every miserable second. JC used this time to think about a lot of the possibilities that lay before him. What if this Motel could serve as his home?
In the end it was all about Lizzy. He still wanted to see her, still wanted to be with her, still wished deep down that if nothing else he could still continue to be a part of her life.
Another airplane took off.
But Stacy was right. JC knew he couldn’t change. He was incapable now, at least in his own mind anyway. The Answer would always be who he really was deep down inside, and he realized that he couldn’t be both that and the husband and the father that Stacy wanted or needed him to be. The Answer really was that simple, after all. You can’t spend your whole life making a career out of hurting others and not eventually realize in the end who you end up hurting the most.
Then finally, Joe stood up, grabbed his bag and his phone, and headed for the door.
He had made his decision.
As he left the motel room, he tossed his bag in the back of the truck and opened the driver-side door. Just as he was about to climb in, an airplane began to land on the runway strip nearest the Motel. For a moment, Joe began to wonder if that would be the plane that would turn around and take him out of here for good.
But then as he followed the plane with his eyes he caught sight of the George Washington bridge; the landmark that lead straight from his home state to New York City. What was only meant to be a passing glance ended up lingering far longer than he had anticipated.
He climbed into the truck prepared to pick up his phone and order the ticket for his next destination; prepared to spend the holidays away from his family and away from almost anyone else he could hurt just by being himself -- just by being JC. But as he picked up his phone he felt a bit hesitant to call and arrange the flight. He shrugged off the feeling, rationalizing that he could just as easily buy the ticket at the airport.
JC drove off in the direction of the airport, but that meant exposing himself to the sight of the bridge once more. Not only that, but the Big Apple itself -- the bright lights of the tall skyscrapers lighting up the foggy night from a distance -- and the knowledge that somewhere over there among the millions of people in that big city that Lucy Wylde was one of them.
No, JC reasoned with himself. He can’t impose on her. Can’t bring her in too close. Because that’s what this was all about, right? He felt if he was destined to be someone who hurts people that anyone who he ever got close to would get hurt in return. It was already bad enough that Stacy and Lizzy had to catch the brunt of it. But if there was ever anyone that Joe needed right now, absolutely and truly needed more than he had ever needed before in his life, it was his friend Lucy Wylde.
Still, he had to be strong. He would drive right past the bridge. Right to the airport and wait until the wheels were off of the ground.
Or so he thought.
The closer he got to the bridge, the more his anxiety grew. He didn’t want to leave Jersey; didn’t want to be outside of arm’s reach of Lizzy if he did not have to. So what if Stacy thought he was dangerous -- to himself moreso than others. His intentions were pure. And to be fair, he had done absolutely nothing wrong, Joe reasoned. So there was no sense in punishing himself for something he had not done. If Maggie wouldn’t have made things personal by mentioning his family in the first place then none of that had to happen. But was the fall from the balcony really the last straw? Or had he been falling for quite some time now?
Was he still falling?
Joe looked down at his phone, resting in the passenger seat. A message popped up. Twitter.
Lucy Wylde.
JC had made his decision. And for once, Joe agreed with it. When he came to the fork in the road where to the left could have been anywhere else in the world and to the right came Lucy Wylde.
Joe turned right.
