So Far Away

 “The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering."

- Bruce Lee

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Outside of wrestling or spending time with his family, it was driving where the man known as JC truly felt at peace. It was a simple task he could do one-mindedly. He could focus on the road, watch the headlights dance along the yellow markers as they sped behind him. It was a time of relaxation. 

Today was not one of those days. 

The entire trip from New York to New Jersey had been an anxiety-plagued hell, especially for someone who hadn't felt much anxiety about anything in his life. His psychosis, and mental illness, such as they were, presented themselves as auditory hallucinations or the manic stage of being bipolar. Anxiety? Needlessly worrying oneself into a puddle of insecurity and nausea? That..

...was more like Lucy…

...wasn't him. And yet the weight, the stress, of everything that had been coming down on him lately. Even if it seemed innocuous like spending time with his daughter, it was more weight. Taking Lucy's stress onto himself, or rather, the need to hide how he was feeling to give her less to deal with, didn’t help.

Hiding anything from her felt wrong. Especially after what had happened before. But he saw no situation where dumping his illness back into her lap was going to do anything but cause trouble. So it was that, it was his kid, it was his career and putting pressure on himself, it was his health, it was everything.

And the latest was a storage unit catching fire. Not just any storage unit, but one containing his past. Items that belong to his parents. Items that belong to himself and his brother when they were kids. Items that couldn't be replaced. He didn't know what was left and what wasn't, if anything. But when the news hit him, he vomited. 

It was an altogether new sensation of unpleasantness.

So the drive between states was not relaxing. His hands gripped the steering wheel the entire time, to the point that his fingertips were blood red and his knuckles were pale white. He wasn't sure, when he arrived, if he had been holding on tightly to maintain control over his driving or to keep his hands from shaking.

If anyone saw me now…

Joe rested momentarily across the top of the wheel and felt the cool leather press into his forehead. He shut his eyes and tried, just for a moment, to will away the hurricane of thought that was swirling around his gray matter. 

He took in a deep, long breath, then let it out as a ragged, shaky exhale.

"You can do this, Joe," he said to himself. "They're only things."

Dead people's things. Both dead people and dead versions of people. Wasn't he just telling himself to move on from the past?

He took another deep breath and let it out before wrapping his fingers around the handle of the truck's door. Fingers which still had indents from having the steering wheel pressed against them firmly for nearly an hour. He let himself out and let the door slam behind him, before he began to walk to the unit to inspect the damage.

At first, everything seemed completely normal. He had expected the entire facility to be either up in flames or burned down to smoldering ashes, with throngs of people lined up outside to see what had become of their prized possessions. There was nothing like that. The storefront of the uHaul storage building looked completely normal. The offices were untouched and at least the first row of units were similarly unscathed. 

Then he turned the corner.

The rows of units were some type of metal, he didn’t really know, so it wasn’t exactly burned down. But the color changed from white and orange to black, with the walls warped around several units and the door being pried off of one with crowbars. The other burned units already had their doors removed or were waiting their turn.

He noticed his brother, who was standing with his fists shoved inside his hoodie. Eric looked up and saw him approaching, then casually waved him over.

Joe felt nausea creeping up again when the smell of whatever went up in one of the other units got to his nose. 

“Hey Joe,” Eric said in a half-hearted greeting. “They haven’t let me inside yet. I’ve had to sign a bunch of stupid paperwork.”

Joe nodded. He knew having anxiety at all, something that was alien to him to begin with, wasn’t reasonable for the situation. As he told himself, the items were only “things.” He supposed that the exhaustion of his schedule and everything else opened him up for it. And thinking about such a thing logically, clinically, allowed him to achieve at least a form of mindfulness. 

“I got here as fast as I could,” he replied. “So what exactly happened?”

He glanced over at their unit as he asked, which luckily was already pried open. It was pitch black inside, even with the lights turned on. Just things, he thought again. 

Eric rubbed the back of his head, cleared stressed in his own right. Joe thought about putting a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but decided against it. 

“It’s like I said on the phone. Some sort of electrical fire. This place doesn’t have AC so, you know, nothing to put it out. Just shitty fans and…”

He pointed down the hallway where more units were being pried open.

“Obviously they didn’t do much good.”

“Jesus,” Joe remarked. He was never one for religion, but sometimes all you could do was invoke the name of a higher being.

“Yeah.”

One of the people on staff, perhaps someone in management, came up to his brother and handed him some papers. 

“Okay, we’ve got everything processed,” the man grunted. He seemed more tired than they were, but Joe supposed that your place of business being damaged would do that. Who knew how many lawsuits he might face. Or how much his insurance company would pay out. Then again, it was uHaul. They could probably afford it. “And when they opened up your unit they didn’t see any immediate dangers, so you two gentlemen can go on inside. We just ask that you take away anything that’s not damaged.”

Eric signed one last form to let him know he understood the terms of the situation, while the man quickly handed him a receipt. “Wouldn’t want thieves to take anything on top of everything else,” he grunted again, before taking off to deal with more of the aftermath.

The two brothers turned to face the last bastion of their childhood, now a blackened, ash-covered mess.

“You think there’s anything left?” Joe asked. It had bothered him. There was no getting around that, but actually being here, seeing the results and knowing there was nothing left that he could do...felt freeing somehow. The anxiety had lowered to a dull roar, and he felt he could handle himself. The damage was done. 

“They’re only things,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Eric said.

“They’re only things,” Joe repeated and sighed. “Let’s see what’s left.”

The last time Joe had been in here, he had been looking for something. He couldn’t recall what it was on the way here, but now it struck him. 

“We still have the photos,” he said. During the summer, he collected a photo album and several home movies and took them back to show Lizzie. And the items were located in a heavy-duty plastic tub stationed in the back. A fire-resistant one. There was the possibility things were saved. 

He felt stupid at not remember it before. 

The two walked inside and he heard an indistinct rustling noise as his boots made contact with the ash-covered floor. Tiny black plumes of smoke erupted with each step, as he kicked up more soot, which likely used to be the cardboard boxes that housed a lot of the items.

Glancing around, it was obvious there was a lot more space. The boxes had been burned away for the most part, and the items that had been inside were scorched, melted or in the case of his mom’s glass figurines, shattered due to the heat. A lot of it was junk, he knew that. What worried him were the irreplaceable pieces that hadn’t been used elsewhere. 

His mom’s wedding dress went to his ex-wife, who kept it in her own closet to eventually give to Lizzie. However her hand-stitched quilts were not, and as he couldn’t see them, assumed they burned up. The same quilts she’d lay over them during the winter when they were little. Better than a normal blanket, for sure. That was sad, but it was also possible some of them were elsewhere. 

“It’s amazing how much junk we kept in here,” Eric said with a small chuckle. Joe nodded, as he glanced over to the back where an old childhood bike had fallen over. It was blackened and the tires were melted. He supposed it’d still work but who really cared? 

In fact, that had been the general theme. He had been telling himself “they’re only things” as a soothing mantra, over and over, but when it came down to it, that really was all they were. He found himself caring less and less about what had been destroyed. A charred toy meant nothing. His dad’s telescope had sentimental value, but it’s not like he ever used it.

There were two items that he cared most about, and those two items were in the back. 

The first was the extra large plastic tub. It held photos, home movies, a fireproof safe (the second item) and a TV/VCR they had no room for and just put in just because. When he got there, he noticed that it was surprisingly intact. It had melted all around the sides, that was obvious. But it was possible that whatever precious items that were still inside were still okay.

“Hey,” he said, nudging his brother as he inspected some half-destroyed records. “Think we can pry the top off this thing?”

The top of the container had basically fused to the rest of it. Eric’s face lit up for a moment. “Hang on a second.” He then walked to the entrance and yelled out down the hallway. “Hey! Any of you guys have a box cutter?”

Joe then heard footsteps, and a larger man huffed down to him and handed him the item, which ended up being a utility knife. Eric thanked him and hustled back, leaning down and popping the blade out.

“Careful, dumbass,” Joe said, teasing more than anything.

Eric smirked and pressed the blade into the plastic, which was pliant and warped enough that it actually cut. After sawing into it for close to ten minutes, the former GI hung back and looked at his brother.

“What?”

“I saw you fireman’s carry two people at once. You got this.”

Joe then realized what was required and stuck his hands into the crevice that had been cut into the container. He felt the edges press into his fingers, nearly cutting them when he improved his grip, but he held on and began to pull back. At first, it seemed like nothing was going to happen. Then he felt it give and pop and peel away. Once he got a bigger opening, he got a better grip and with his brother’s help, they pulled away the top. 

The first thing they noticed was the smell, which gave him more nausea. The second was that most of the items seemed to survive. 

The item that took the most damage was the TV, which was against the edge of the container. So it too was warped and melted, but it was also the least valuable. The old tapes, half of which were already at home, seemed fine. The safe was basically untouched. The two lifted it out and set it on the ground.

“What are the chances this thing even opens?” Joe asked.

“Let’s see.”

Still remembering the combination, Eric turned the dial and amazingly, with a click, the door came open. The safe had been where they kept the most important items. At one time it held his mother’s engagement ring, which could now be found on Lucy’s hand. Now it kept things like their birth certificates, baby books, old photos of his parents (including their wedding) and an assortment of paperwork for things related to their burial plot. The two pulled a lot of it out and began to bundle it up in their arms. 

“It’s crazy that out of everything that was in here, we’ll be able to take what’s left out in one trip.” Joe remarked.

“Well like you said, it’s only stuff.”

Joe turned around to leave when one of the photobooks, slipped out of his arms and hit the ground with a thud. A manila envelope poked out of the side that he couldn’t find a reason for being there.

“What the hell?”

Joe kneeled down and pulled the envelope out. Inside were two letters, addressed to the both of them, from their father.

“Why...why is this here?” Eric asked, kneeling down next to his brother and nearly dropping everything to do it. 

“Maybe he wanted to give them to us later?”

Joe gently set his things back onto the safe and handed Eric his own letter, before opening his own. 

Joe - 

Happy 18th birthday, son. I hope you read this before you got into the car we’re giving you. You’re fourteen as I write this, so who knows what car you end up with. 

I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you. Even now, not knowing what you’ll do, being a dad is just great. I hope one day you can tell me I was right about that while I watch my grandkids. 

I thought it would be a nice gesture to give you and Eric each a letter on your eighteenth birthdays before you go into the world. Are you a wrestler like you kept saying you were? Are you headed to film school? Hopefully you haven’t gotten someone pregnant.

I also hope you have forgiven me. Because today I’ve had to make some calls to get you into therapy.  I know you’ve been hearing things, Joe. And your temper is worse than someone with hormones. So your mother and I decided to get you some help. You’re not going to like it and I think the next few months are going to be rough for you. But hopefully by now you’re better and this is just a reminder that I was looking out for you.

You can do anything you want, Joe. You’re a smart kid, which you obviously got from Mom. And I know you’ll have Eric by your side in life because you two are inseparable. 

I look forward to seeing it. Be good. Take care of your brother. 

Love, 

Dad.

Joe stared at the letter in disbelief. His brother looked back at him, having finished his own, and they both realized their eyes were watering. His brother smiled at him.

“He promised you a car too?”

“Man, he...he knew.” Joe said, his voice cracking. 

“Knew what?”

“About...me. He and mom were...making calls to psychiatrists, I guess. Before…” He let his voice trail off because there was nothing else that needed to be said. Before they died. 

Because of me. 

A solemn look came over his brother’s face and he nodded, as if this wasn’t news. “Of course he knew,” he said. “Dad loved us. Would have done anything for us. You think you wouldn’t notice if Lizzie was acting differently?”

“I just assumed, I guess, that he either didn’t know or...I guess I didn’t know what I assumed. But he knew. He was…”

Joe cried a lot when he was a child. He didn’t cry much as an adult, and certainly never in front of his brother. His ex-wife and his fiancee rarely saw it themselves. Joe couldn’t tell if he was crying due to sadness or anger, or both.

“He fucking knew. He knew and before he could do anything about it…” He let those words trail off too. Eric knew he blamed himself. It didn’t need to be repeated. Joe punched the ground for emphasis, feeling a flash of pain shoot up his arm.

Eric put an arm around him. 

“It’s okay bro. I’ve got you.”

The brothers sat that way for a few minutes until Joe composed himself. As he got it out of his system, he glanced down to what Eric’s letter said. He couldn’t make out a lot, but one line was repeated in both.

Take care of your brother.

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By the time Joe got back to New York, to the condo he shared with Lucy, he was exhausted. It had taken the last of his will to even get out there. The addition of the anxiety and the emotional discovery was a trifecta that completely wiped him out. 

For once, he was glad Lizzie was with her mother. 

He didn’t even bother taking the rest of the items they had with him up to the condo. They sat inside his truck and he decided he would deal with them tomorrow. All he had with him was the letter, and for now that was enough. 

Joe opened the door of the condo and let himself in, spying Lucy in the kitchen getting something to drink. It was just a bottle of water this time, so he assumed that was progress. He didn’t much feel like talking though, and he briefly said hi before moving to the steps and heading to the bedroom upstairs. 

He glanced at the letter again, before sighing. He got to the bed, then let himself flop down back-first, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A nap would do wonders.

“This fucking day,” he muttered to himself.

"What about this fucking day?" Lucy said, surprising him as she stepped into the room.

He looked over and gave her a smile he didn’t really have the energy for. 

“Oh, you know, irreplaceable objects burned him in a fire, I learned secrets about my father. That kind of thing.” 

He had no use for putting up a wall, but decided to at least make sure she knew he was okay. Because while he was wiped, he also felt like a weight had been lifted. 

“But it’ll be okay. I’m just tired.”

She nodded her head as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Understandable.  It's been a long day."  She begins, trying to be as supportive as she could be even if she didn't fully understand it.  "Was everything ruined?  Were they… bad secrets?"

He sat up and shook his head. 

“I mean yeah, nearly everything is gone. But it’s just stuff. And as for the other thing, no...not really. I just kind found out things could have been much different had my parents not died.”

Joe looked at for a moment and cleared his throat, ready to change the subject.

“It’s not important though. Honestly, I’m fine.”

He handed over the letter for her to read, while he kept talking.

“That kind of thing honestly gave me perspective, and I’ve been thinking about it on the drive back. The past should be in the past for a reason, and we shouldn’t put off our present to live for what used to be.”

"Yeah.." She replied as she finished reading the letter, handing it back to him.

He nodded again, placing the letter back in his pocket.

“And we haven’t been doing too great. Might be my fault, actually. Instead of being direct with you, I tried to handle you with kid gloves because I didn’t want to make things worse. It was stupid. It was just putting off talking about things because I was so worried I’d screw it up, but it’s not really about me.”

He thought that he could envision her reaction, or at least what she would have said if not dealing with her depression. ‘Of course it was stupid. I’m not fragile.’ It was time to stop worrying about his own bullshit and really commit to helping one of the people he cared about most.

“Anyway, I was trying to be supportive but I wasn’t actually...present. And I’m sorry for that.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine.  I haven't been much fun to be around anyway."

“Fun doesn’t matter. You’re going through some shit. I think it’s time we figure out how to get you out of the hole.”

Joe smiled again. “So whose ass do we gotta kick to beat this?” He joked. 

"I wish I knew." She said quietly, her hand coming up to the necklace she's been wearing.  She absent-mindedly played with the ring attached to it as she fell silent.

He moved from where he was at and sat next to her, putting an arm around her briefly like his brother had done for him just an hour or so earlier. After kissing her head, he let go and shrugged.

“You let me know, Luce. You know I’ve got your back on this. You don’t have to handle all the things you're handling alone. I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you don’t have to.” 

She released the ring and let her hands fall back into her lap. "I know.  I appreciate it, I really do.  I'm just not really ready to talk about it, and even if I were - I don't even know what I'd say."  She sighed again. "Maybe when I figure all this out… If I figure it out."

Joe nodded. “I know how that is. I’m not expecting to just sit here and hash out everything in one talk. But when you do figure it out, and you will, I’ll be here, same as always.”

"Thanks."

He thought about a million other things he could say, but she was still in a different place, isolated from him. All he could do is give her time and the support she needed. Even now she was focused on her own past, letting it drag her into darkness. But she would get out. He had been in that same darkness several times, and he did it. If there was one thing he knew about Lucy, it’s that she was a survivor, and much stronger than he was.

He didn’t know what else to say right now to help but a real conversation about real problems didn’t always have the perfect ending. A lot of times, conversations about life just end. The story just concludes its latest chapter, and everyone moves onto the next day. 

All they could do was move onto the next chapter, no matter how far away the ending was.

“So...are you hungry?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Life moved on.

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JC sat down on the ground, with two gravestones stationed behind his back. The names would be unfamiliar to anyone watching, but they were very familiar to him. He sat at the foot of the graves of his parents, on his knees, with his head lowered. 

He had no anger with him. Not today. Instead he spoke with a calm, unwavering voice. It was soft but forceful. Authoritative.

I didn't imagine I'd be back here so soon.

I talk a big game, and I like to play up my confidence in myself, but once I saw the way the points were trending in the Global Challenge, I knew I wasn't going to win. Somehow Randy Boolzian played spoiler for a lot of people, and there's a good chance he spoils Sloane Taylor's big chance too. 

That's the way the game goes, sometimes. 

JC chuckled to himself, looking up at his audience and shoving his fists in the pockets of his coat. His hair was braided as if he were ready to compete, but the wind proved that it was to keep it from getting in the way.

Last year, I spoke of redemption. I spoke of proving that I could be more than I was, of proving that I can be more than I am. I was obsessed with my legacy and what the perception of who I am would be after I was gone. I wanted so badly to overcome my demons and become a champion again. I was presented with two opportunities within a week of each other. I lost them both. Not only that, I was put in the hospital and had surgery to repair nerve damage.

I was humbled. 

It's amazing that in nearly 45 years of being alive, I could still learn lessons. Life still has things to teach me. In this case, I learned, as I said to Sebastian before we took each other to the limit, that redemption has to be earned.

JC sat back, changing his position to cross-legged. He looked intently at his audience, which he knew would include the UGWC World Champion.

It's just like that title you're holding, Hide Yamazaki. The title that is mine. 

Now, in saying that, it sounds like I haven't really learned my lesson, doesn't it? Duncan Ryder would call it arrogance. But when I say that belt is mine, I don't mean it physically is mine, and I don't mean it's mine simply because I want to be champion. I'm not calling myself the uncrowned champion. 

That belt is a promise. It is a promise of fulfilling the goals that I've been striving toward for over a year now. It is a key to greatness. It is a pen to write my name in history. It is all these things in more. I say it is mine because it already has so much of me attached to it. My hopes. My expectations. My dreams. My legacy. My redemption.

It is the thing that makes this career worth it. It's what still drives me to lace up my boots and go out there and put my body through hell. 

He nodded, doubling down on his point. It felt different this time. He felt hopeful, not bitter. Calm, not angry. He continued to speak in a slow, steady, measured way. It would seem normal if you had never watched JC speak before. To everyone else, it was likely startling.

You know what I realized, Hide? The last time we fought, I wasn't a man. Not really. A man faces his problems head on. He doesn't ignore them and think he can skate by to his happy ending. I decided to not only ignore pressing issues like Tempest, but all of the past issues that I was seeking redemption for to begin with.

I was more of an angry child. I was convinced that my problems, my issues were what caused everything wrong in my life. Everything from my lack of recent success, to whatever relationship issues I had to even the death of my own parents. I blamed myself for it. I refused to move on. 

He smiled, remember something Hide's manager Johnny Bonecrusher said to him when the rematch was announced.

It was a weight that I couldn't get rid of and every single time I climbed to that glorious mountaintop Mr. Bonecrusher speaks of, it drug me back down into a hell of self-loathing. How could I get any kind of redemption, any kind of future success, if I let myself continue to fall into those patterns. Hell is paved with good intentions and good intentions alone aren't going to get me where I need to be.

I'm not some pathetic creature, consistently haunted by demons and ghosts. Not anymore. I'm on my way to making peace with all that I've done and all that I've lost. 

It's a work in progress, but that's the thing. No one's perfect. No one's without their share of fuckups. And I know that 'The Answer' I tried to kill off isn't this thing from the past haunting me.

He stands up, staring down, with his fists clenched as he shows his resolve.

I accept who I am and what I did. I'm done being bitter. I'm done being angry. I'm done running from some made-up persona I tried to ditch in an effort to gain some lofty concept without putting in effort. 

Hide Yamazaki, I'm going to beat the hell out of you. If you thought our last match was rough, you haven't seen anything yet. Because I want no excuses. Even if I lose, I want to go out there knowing I gave the "face of the company" everything I had. No holding back. No regrets. 

Allow me to re-introduce myself, Johnny, Hide. 

I'm JC. I'm The Answer.

The Answer is whatever I want it to be. And what I want to be...is champion. 

Time to kick the Strong Style Satanist down to hell so he can meet his maker. 

JC gets up and walks out of frame, leaving only a view of two headstones of his parents, along with the other graves in the area. Walking out of the past and letting the dead lie, so that he can take charge of his future.