Sat alone at a table in the backstage area, Cid Turner looked at the series of text messages exchanged between him and his brother from earlier on in the night. It had to be at least the tenth time he’d read them.
< Crusher Turner
Thursday, April 22 2021
(5:14 pm) Could you please set up a meeting with Elizabeth for me?
What’s this about? (5:14 pm)
(5:15 pm) What does it sound like?
(5:15 pm) Asshole
(5:16 pm) I want to meet with Elizabeth
Why don’t you just call or message her yourself? (5:17 pm)
(5:18 pm) Because
I have her contact info, I’ll send it to you (5:18 pm)
(5:23 pm) MAYBE I AM TOO BUSY BECAUSE I ACTUALLY HAVE A REAL JOB TO DO IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF HOURS AND MAYBE I AM NOT IN GOOD CONDITION BECAUSE SOMEONE ROOFIED ME LAST NIGHT
What are you even talking about? (5:24 pm)
(5:25 pm) Neither me nor my hole was compromised
(5:25 pm) Thanks for your concern
(5:26 pm) Very brotherly
(5:29 pm) Also I am not very good at computers or telephones so I would like you to do this for me
(5:36 pm) Are you still there?
(5:38 pm) YOU OWE ME FOR ABANDONING ME ALL ALONE IN SCW TWENTY YEARS AGO
(5:39 pm) I KNOW THAT YOU ARE HOME
(5:40 pm) WITH YOUR BROKE ASS 9 TO 5 JOB
(5:44 pm) YOUR NAME SHOULD BE STRICKEN FROM THE SCW RECORD BOOKS
(5:53 pm) YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING
She said she can meet with you this weekend (6:02 pm)
I’ll send you the address, she’s back in Denver (6:02 pm)
(6:04 pm) I did not mean those things I said
(6:05 pm) I am actually of the opinion that we BOTH should have been inducted into the Hall of Fame
(6:08 pm) Olk is back
(6:09 pm) That was a typo, I meant Olk
(6:10 pm) I will ask Olk if you can be inducted retroactively
(6:11 pm) That was a typo
He hadn’t seen his ex-wife Elizabeth since the day after his injury, the eight year anniversary of that particular set of events passing last February. Anniversary was probably too positive a word for the day, he figured. In his mind, the word was often associated with nice things, like the start of a relationship, marriage, or birthdays. Anniversary just sounded wrong in this context.
February 14th, 2013. A day of memorial. The death of a career and a potential rekindled relationship, all in the same day.
But Cid was wrestling again. More than that, he was a double champion. Like Jesus Christ himself, Cid had emerged from a rock-hewn tomb with a big, bushy beard and a second chance at life and he used it to change the world. He was back in SCW with no plans of leaving. With that in mind, it would stand to reason that he could also end up back in Elizabeth with no plans of leaving.
Renewed confidence. Revered accolades. Adoring fans. Continual flow of money.
He was becoming the man that he had missed for so long, if not better. The hope was that Elizabeth missed that man, too, but Cid needed one thing to help push the presentation of himself over the top. What he really needed for this reunion was the SCW World Championship to be around his waist.
But first, he was apparently desperately needed by Holly Adams, who had just busted into the room, immediately tossing down a thick stack of papers in front of Cid.
“Hey, is Asher all right?” he asked her as she took a seat just off to his side. Last time he’d seen Asher Hayes, Asher was nursing his ribs and cursing Chris Cannon’s existence. “He seemed really pissed.”
“Oh, just let him throw his little bitch fit, Cidnay,” she replied. “He’s all angry because Chris Cannon stuck his nose into his business again and because he didn’t get to pin Bree. I guess I can’t blame him. I mean, did you see the way that heifer was eyeing our belt?! Oh, my God. I mean… desperate much?! Not cute at all, was it, Cidnay?”
“Um… no. Not cute.”
“We’ve still got the gold, we’re all winners, and that’s everything that matters, isn’t it? The grasp of A/C Blondetourage Unit over the main event scene tightens even further.”
Even with the oddly violent tone and the strange amalgamation of group names, Holly was right. Asher, Holly, and Cid all ended the night victorious, Holly’s win over Cannon being especially huge, despite the circumstances, which Cid just tried his best to ignore in the interest of not rocking the boat.
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Cid. “We had a pretty good night, all things considered.”
“Well… yeah, I did ‘pretty good’ beating our former World Champion?” she stated, though for some reason making it sound more like a question, her voice going up an octave on the last word of the sentence. “But you beat some random rookie? And Asher won via disqualification? Bless you both for trying so hard though?”
“Why are you speaking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like that, you keep doing that while being all condescending.”
“Elaborate?”
“Your voice— you keep having that high inflection at the end and make everything sound like it’s a question.”
“What are you even talking about?” she asked, still being annoying. “Look, while you weren’t as impressive as me pinning our last World Champion, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I don’t think I was being hard on myself?” he shot back, mocking Holly’s condescending tone. “I think you were doing that for me?”
“Whatever, the point is that since you’ve been under my thumb— er… since you’ve been under my guidance, you’ve had a newfound confidence, Cidnay,” she boasted, her chest swelling with pride. She could hardly believe what she’d molded this disgusting lump of clay into. Well, she could, because she could do anything and everything, but it was still a noteworthy accomplishment. “Girl, you’re practically glowing!”
“I meant to ask about that, too. Why do you call me Cidnay? Like, with that emphasis?”
“Because that’s your new brand, I’ve decided,” she said smugly. She took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, her brilliant ideas coming on so often and so fast that it was almost overwhelming her. Regardless, she found the power to continue. “You’re the next Cher – or even Madonna – with just as big of a gay following, too, I’d say.”
“Gay following?!”
Holly flashed a beaming smile while nodding excitedly, the vision so pure that she could almost see it coming true right in front of her eyes. Meanwhile, Cid couldn’t help but agree with what she was saying, at least pre-Cher, whatever the hell that meant. Ever since winning the World Championship, he’d felt his confidence growing not just inside the ring, but outside of it, too. Coincidence or not, Holly was there for it all.
“I guess a gay following would be nice,” he conceded.
“So you agree that I’ve done so much for you?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Good, because we need to make it official,” she said as she slid the stack of papers in front of him even closer towards him.
Flipping through the pages, it was clear that there were too many to really read the entire thing, but just from skimming it, Cid noticed some notable keywords repeated throughout.
Housewives. Life Coaching. Lifetime. Liable. Lawsuit. Bravo. Death. Accidental pregnancies. Suicidal thoughts. Blonde. Anal bleaching.
“Holly, what is this?”
Holly sat forward and stretched her neck out, taking a glimpse along with Cid. “A contract that you have to sign to become an official Life Coaching by Holly, trademarked, client,” she explained before sitting back in her chair. “This whole time, we’ve kind of been doing business under the table because Asher doesn’t trust you because you have a tendency to be childish and/or challenged.”
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled dejectedly as he continued to skim through the pages.
“But now, we’re all on the same page! It’s all out in the open, so we have to make this official. As for payment, well… hey, we’ll talk about that later.”
“Payment.” Holly nodded while excitedly – or perhaps nervously – clacking her nails on the table.
Cid shook his head and continued to skim the contract until he finally ran out of pages. There it was, right there on the final page. The dotted line laid bare, just waiting for the signature of one Cid Turner. As he stared at the open space, he thought back to Retribution, where this all started. While he won, it wasn’t the way he expected to win… or even the way he wanted to win. Still… he did win.
“Holly, I don’t know…”
“Cid,” she said sternly. It caught him off guard. No “Cidnay”, no fake smile, no false sincerity in her voice. Full eye contact. “When you came back, did you ever dream of being the World Champion? Or even the Tag Champion?” Slowly, Cid shook his head. No. “You didn’t see this coming, and neither did anybody else. You were gone for almost ten years, coming back to SCW as some gross forty-year old, looking like you’re just waiting for someone to put you out of your misery.”
“Yeah,” Cid muttered softly as he looked back down at the contract.
“What you’ve done should have been impossible, but with me by your side, nothing’s impossible, so here we are,” she continued, her cadence still slowed. “We’re—… you are the SCW World Champion. You are on top of the world. If you don’t sign that contract to become a Life Coaching by Holly, trademarked, client, then you could very well be throwing it all away.” Cid looked back up at Holly and realized that a pen was now sitting in his hand. He closed his fist and clutched it tightly. “You don’t want all of this to end. Do you?”
Cid sucked in a deep breath and looked down back at the contract. With a heavy exhale, he slowly brought the pen over the paper, resting the tip next to the “X” before the dotted line.
As Retribution came to a close, all he could feel was regret. A deep regret for letting his friend down and winning the belt that was rightfully Asher’s, not to mention the target that had been put on his back as the new World Champion. It was enough to make him think that he was going to have to quit SCW, just to get away from it all.
Now, though, he was proud to be co-World Champion with his best friend, even if it wasn’t officially recognized. Like Asher had told him, there were new pressures with being double champions, but for the first time since returning, Cid welcomed the hardship with mostly open arms. Both physically and mentally, he seemed to be growing stronger.
He fought like hell to put A/C Unit on top of the world and now they were finally there. Holly was right. Now that he had gotten the world, he couldn’t just throw it all away. He had to continue to fight… if not for himself, then at least for Asher’s sake.
Holly’s, too, he supposed.
Looking at the doorway, Holly saw a cameraman slowly peek in. She held her hand up to stop him as Cid continued to push the pen to paper. Hand still held up, Holly drew her eyes to the contract, eagerly awaiting Cid to sign his name while the cameraman was ready to pounce.
“Fuck it,” Cid mumbled as he – with a squiggle and a flick – finally signed the contract.
“Also on the previous page,” Holly said with her eyes still drawn to the slightly open door.
“Huh?”
“Two blank spots on the previous page, you have to sign those.”
“I have to sign this thing three times?”
“Per my legal department, yes,” she said quickly, still eyeing the door with her hand held towards it.
“Well… okay,” Cid succumbed, flipping back to the page before and quickly signing his name twice.
Holly lowered her hand and before Cid could even set the pen back down, an entire camera crew burst into the room, almost falling all over each other in the process. After some erratic shuffling, they set themselves up expertly beside Cid and Holly, making sure to find the best angles for the both of them.
“Oh, my God, is this some To Catch a Predator shit?!” Cid yelped nervously, darting his eyes back and forth between the crew and a grinning Holly. “Holly, how old are you?!” he asked before looking directly into the nearest camera. “I swear, it was just a simple business transaction!”
“No, no, no, calm down, Cidnay,” Holly said as she put a comforting hand on top of Cid’s hand, taking a look at the cameras to make sure that they’re capturing her being not only a great professional, but a great friend, as well. As the camera panned up from their hands, she quickly yanked it off and wiped her hand on the side of her leg. “This is the Housewives crew!”
“What is this?!”
Holly cleared her throat and sat up while straightening her shoulders. “By signing up to be a client of Life Coaching by Holly, trademarked, you have also signed on to participate and be a part of my scenes on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” she happily chirped. “Before this, we had to blur your face and heavily modulate your voice, so all of us here at Bravo are pleased that you’ve finally decided to join the family! God, Crysta-Elizabeth will be thrilled.”
“Is any of that even legal?”
“It sure is!”
“Wait a minute, you’re on television? Like, a real show?”
“I sure am!”
“You know what? Whatever, sure. Listen, I gotta go talk to Ash,” said Cid as he pushed his chair out and stood up. Before he could walk out the door, a cameraman blocked him. “What, what is it?”
“Well, since you’re here, Cidnay, we’d love it if you could film a confessional,” Holly said almost pleadingly, but not enough to come off as desperate, which was important to her as she viewed Cid as far beneath her. “Just a quickie. We’re doing you a favor here, usually you have to be in a special confessional room.”
“I’ve nothing to confess,” Cid said, trying to get around the cameraman, but the crew member stood his ground. Bravo didn’t mess around when it came to hiring cameramen, apparently. The man was a soldier, completely willing to die for his company.
“You signed the contract, Cidnay,” she told him arrogantly. “Just do this, okay?”
Cid shook his head – something he felt like he’d done hundreds of times in the span of just a few minutes – and sat back down at the table, looking at Holly, who looked completely pleased with herself. “Okay, fine, but can you do me a favor?”
“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re planning on asking me the same things Asher does,” she groaned with a roll of the eyes. “You didn’t seem the type.”
“What? No. Wait, what? What does he ask you?”
“You know, like—”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Listen, while I do this, can you go talk to Asher for me? I need to carry the belt this weekend. I need it to impress someone.”
“Impress someone?” Holly asked curiously. “May I suggest a makeover? I think you’ll find the effects of that far greater.”
“God damn it, Holly, can you just ask him?! I need the belt!”
Holly seemed taken aback, putting a little extra theatrics on her facial reactions under the assumption that the cameras were rolling. “First of all, do not talk to me like that. It’s very ugly and we are not ugly people.”
“No, you’re right, sorry,” Cid muttered quickly.
“However, since you’re doing Bravo and I this favor, I will go speak to Asher for you. Under the laws of the contract you just signed, though, I make no promises that everything will go exactly like you’re hoping for.”
“Great, no worries.”
Holly nodded and got up before elegantly strutting out of the room to go find Asher. The crew branched off, a larger section following her out the door and down the halls, while a smaller one remained behind with Cid, ominously inching towards him. If getting the key to getting Elizabeth back meant he had to be a housewife of Beverly Hills, then it was something that had to be done.
“It’s kind of baffling how quickly things can change,” Cid began, looking up and thinking of the difference in himself compared to when he returned at Rise to Greatness. He looked the same, but looks could be deceiving. With a drawn out sigh, he looked back down into the camera. “I’ve been told this a few times since I’ve been back. Something else I’ve been told more than a few times is that I shouldn’t be where I am right now, and while some may take that as an insult, I don’t think it really is. All it does is show how much Asher and I have overcome in such a short time.
We’re only a few months removed from facing each other, Golden Boys. I mostly remember that match not because we beat you on our way to winning the SCW Tag League, but because of the touching tribute to your son, Adam. You dedicated the match to young Alistaire, even going so far as to share some genuinely touching footage of you and your son reconciling before our match. Of course, your reconciliation went about as well as mine did with Matt Hodges and God Himself, but… you know, it was still sweet.”
Cid stopped, the mere mention of two men he saw as family stinging him a bit, noticeably so. “Like I said, things change. I remember practically begging you to get in contact with Chad or Hodges for me, since you were familiar with ‘em. I just wanted to know what was going on, but… well, look what happened. I beat ‘em both and we’ll probably never see ‘em again, whether that makes me happy or not. But, you know, it seemed to work out well. Ever since I defeated those literal demons, I’ve been feeling… well, good.
And you, Adam – you can relate! While you had a rough going after Alistaire’s accident, that’s completely understandable. As we’ve spoken about before, we’ve both been there, mourning over the spiritual loss of a son. I commend you for fighting through it, just like I did. Once you got out of that funk, though, you started to make your boy proud! With Bison Jones by your side, as well as that weird Russian girl, you rose from the tragedy of Alistaire and became an inspiration to fathers everywhere.
God, just look at us old folk, Adam,” he continued with a rare smile. “We’re proving that age is just a number! An argument I’m sure you’ve had to make many times! Regardless, that’s something that needs to be said of both of my matches at Be Careful What You Wish For. They’re unexpected. Months ago, A/C Unit were the underdogs in a huge tag team tournament and Golden Boys were struggling in that very same tourney. People saw Adam and I and just thought, ‘when will someone put those old dogs out behind the shed’? Now, we fight for the most prestigious tag titles in the business.
Though… I don’t see this as a ‘fight’. Adam, when I pinned you back in November, I told you something. You might not remember it because I had just spiked you on your head, but I leaned down to your carcass and I told you, ‘I’m sorry’. That was because I saw us as one and the same, just trying their best to do what they can with the hand they had been dealt. I felt bad, to be honest. Beating you – well, look, it had to happen, just like it needs to happen again, but still, what we’re going through now, it’s not a fight! This is two fathers coming together, just for the love of the game! We’ve overcome our dad problems and showed the world that there is life after your thirties! Look at us, man, hogging the spotlight all for ourselves! Us and Tom Brady, we oughta meet up for dinner or something.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Asher and Bison, though. Those young guns, going out there every night, making it so we don’t have to work quite as hard as we would normally. Bless ‘em, because you and I wouldn’t be where we are without ‘em. To see you guys out there supporting Asher when he got his haircut, that meant a lot, and I think it said a lot. There we were, just weeks away from having to face each other on pay-per-view, but still working together and supporting each other. I wish this business had more of that. If it did, who knows? Chad could be here with us. Hodges, too. We could all be a happy circle of friends and family, but instead, I had to beat them so bad that they banished themselves from SCW.”
Cid sadly shrugged his shoulders. He missed his family. “Just wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Sometimes things just… fall apart… which is why I worry about our match this Sunday.” There was a pause. “Listen, I’ll be blunt. A/C Unit isn’t gonna be a one-and-done with these titles… and look, you guys are already called the Golden Boys, which begs the question: why even bother trying to win the tag titles?! Is it even possible for you to get more golden? If so, is it possible to be too golden? Do you even want to find out?!
I guess you do, which I commend you for. That’s true bravery, trying to answer those unanswered questions. There’s a reason why you’ve had such longevity in this business, Adam. It’s because you aren’t afraid to seek out these answers, and I think it’s brilliant that you’ve found such a willing student in Bison. You guys are great. But… it goes back to what I was saying, which is that I’m worried about this match. Not because I think you and Bison are gonna beat Asher and I, but because we’re going to beat you.
I’m sure that you think that’s false. After all, Asher and I are both double booked here. I’m sure a lot of people are thinking that we’re spinning too many plates and it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down. In Asher’s case, who knows where he’s placed? He might have to beat Cannon and then defend our belts, but then what about me? It makes sense that I’d be overlooking this match for the main event, right? Well, no. Wrong. Asher and I, we’re experts. Think about what we did to get here, even looking over Asher’s legendary TV Championship run! Just in recent history, we won two matches in one night to win the SCW Tag League and then I won two matches in one night to get us the World Championship. The pattern is that when it comes to the odds being stacked against us, well… they’re really not, are they?
My hope is that you and Bison will take this defeat in stride, though, just like you did months back. I hope that you can still stay friends with us, as well as Holly. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I can tell that you respect her so much. You guys are so friendly. It’s just a beautiful friendship, and I hope that we can all reach that level with each other one day.
Because, really, that’s what this match is all about. Four friends – both sides with a nice, polite blonde at ringside – just going at it, a showcase for our different generations. A showcase of talent. A showcase of friendship. Most importantly, a showcase for the SCW World Tag Team Champions, A/C Unit.”
“All right, stop here,” Cid asked of his personal driver/wrestling student/home chef/little bitch/hype man Clyde Warner as they pulled into Elizabeth’s street.
Clyde came to a stop, clunking against the curb much to the annoyance of Cid. “How come?” Clyde questioned while not giving a damn that he probably just shredded his rims. “Isn’t she up there?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want your fuckin’ beater pulling up there and backfiring in her driveway,” Cid explained as he looked further down the street through the windshield. “This is the suburbs, man. These people’ll call the cops on our ass, thinkin’ we’re doing drive-bys and shit.”
“Ohh, I see.”
“Plus, what does it look like if I pull up in this piece o’ shit? Appearances are everything,” Cid said as he scratched his disgusting, overgrown beard, “and the appearance of your truck would make me look like a welfare king. No man has ever won the girl back while riding dirty in an old-ass pickup. That’s also why you’re not allowed to come in there with me. You look poor.” The idling of the truck was loud enough that Cid felt a migraine coming on. “Jesus, can you turn this shitheap off?”
Clyde obliged, powering the truck down to make way for the usual comforting quiet of a suburban neighborhood. They still looked like riff-raff, but at least they no longer sounded it. With that taken care of, Clyde couldn’t help but to bring up something that had been bothering him. “Cid, I gotta ask…”
“No, damn it, you can’t keep an eye on the belt,” Cid said as he reached to the backseat and picked up the World Championship belt, bringing it up to his lap. Asher had apparently put up a bit of a fight, but in the end, it ended up in Cid’s hands… for the weekend, at least. It was important to have the belt with him today. Upon seeing this, Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to resist him. Everyone loves a man in gold. “This stays with me today.”
“No, no, not that,” Clyde said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Biting his lip, he pondered the situation briefly. “I mean, you’re talking like you’re about to get back together with Elizabeth.”
“Yeah, duh.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love Elizabeth,” said Clyde as he reminisced on his first time meeting her. A lot of it was lost in a haze due to the massive concussion he received the very same day at the hands of Cid, but what he did remember was a nice, caring woman who looked after him in the aftermath of Cid expelling everyone from his mountain mansion. “She’s great, but, like… isn’t this kind of, like… cheating on Elizaveta?”
Cid managed to stifle a surprised gasp. Truth be told, with everything going on with Elizabeth, he had completely forgotten about his Russian mail-order bride, which was a feat given that he had just shared a house with her the day before. She did such a good job blending into the background that she kind of just blended into thin air over the last couple of days.
“Right, Elizaveta,” Cid finally spoke up before clearing his throat. “Well, no. This isn’t cheating. Nothing has happened yet.”
“Yeah, but, like… you’re trying to make something happen?”
“Damn it, Clyde, just—… look, Elizaveta and I have a deep relationship,” Cid said of the woman that he had not yet held a full conversation with despite being legally married to her for seven years. “It goes beyond labels like ‘matrimony’ and ‘soulmates’ and ‘husband and wife’. If she were here, she’d completely understand what I’m doing, because that’s what Elizaveta is: understanding.”
“Oh,” Clyde mumbled as he drew up all the equations in his head that he could to somehow make what Cid was saying make the smallest bit of sense. “So you’d be okay if she was with another man?”
“God, no,” Cid responded immediately. Clyde’s reaction told him that maybe that too made no sense. “Oh. Well, I mean… this situation is different. It’s, like… Elizabeth, you know? She’s the one.”
“But aren’t you Elizaveta’s one?”
“You know what, Clyde? I don’t wanna get all philosophical and thinking about the universe and love and shit, especially because you know deep thinking stresses me out,” Cid said through rising frustration, as well as building guilt. It was bad enough that he had completely forgotten about Elizaveta, but now he was questioning what their mail-order marriage really meant in the grand scheme of things, and he didn’t have time to dwell on the meaning of marriage, not right now. “So thanks, Clyde. Getting me all flustered before I talk to Elizabeth for the first time in eight years. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“No, no, no, I’m sorry,” Clyde apologized, even going so far as to clasp his hands together to pray for the forgiveness of his master. “I was just confused, that’s all! You’ve enlightened me with your modern views on matrimony!”
“Damn it, man, I’m goin’ in,” Cid announced as he opened the door, the ensuing creak piercing its way straight to his soul, just making him feel even more uneasy. He stopped and looked up at the street.
The mood wasn’t right. It just wasn’t. Everything had to be perfect. He couldn’t go in there all annoyed and on edge just because this idiot of a friend had to guilt trip him for some stupid reason. And so, he pulled the door shut… as much as he could, anyway, considering that when you were in Clyde’s truck, it was a 50/50 chance that the doors would not function as doors at all.
“What’re you doing?” asked Clyde as Cid dug around in his jacket pocket. Out came two pill bottles that formerly belonged to his friend Sid Kipling, once shoddily labeled as “XANNY” and “VALLY”, but in the interest of not letting everyone know that he was experimenting with pharmaceuticals, Cid had ripped the labels off and left the orange bottles unmarked for the time being. Never mind the fact that the pills themselves had “XANAX” printed directly onto them. “What are those? Are you sick?”
“Huh? Oh, no,” Cid answered awkwardly as he popped the lids and took one pill from each bottle. The Xanax bottle felt way more empty than he remembered, yet the Valium bottle felt the same. Maybe he was taking more than he realized. Oh well. “These are… candy.”
“Candy?”
“Tic Tacs.”
“Oh, hell yeah, I love Tic Tacs!” Clyde cried out excitedly, his eyes now glued to Cid’s pill bottles and the two “Tic Tacs” in his hand. “What’s with the weird bottles?”
Cid looked at the bottles before hastily putting them back in his pocket. “Special edition.”
“Awesome! Can I have some?! You already know a homeboy goes hard on some Tic Tacs!”
“Didn’t you hear me, mother fucker? I said they’re special edition,” Cid repeated with great enunciation. “Limited, dude. These are mine.”
“That’s so cool, I wanna get some. What flavor are they?”
“Uh… white chocolate,” he blurted out. “They’re white chocolate Tic Tacs.”
An eerie silence fell upon Clyde’s shitty pickup truck as the two stared into each other’s eyes, Cid clutching the pills tightly in his sweaty hand.
“That sounds fucking disgusting,” Clyde finally said.
“I agree,” Cid quickly murmured as he opened the door and headed out of the car, dragging the World Championship out with him.
“Hey, good luck!” Clyde called out as Cid slammed the door behind him, leaving it hanging from its hinges. Clyde crawled over to the other seat and held the door ajar as Cid walked down the street. “I’ll be here when you’re done!”
Ignoring the desperate pleas for approval from his mentee as well as the unpleasant crunching sounds of Clyde trying to successfully shut the passenger’s side door over and over again, Cid walked forward briskly, making his way down Elizabeth’s street.
He wondered what it would be like. What she would be like. Did she gain weight, just as he had? Was she desperately pining for him all this time, much like he did for the last eight years? Would they hug, or would they go fully casual with a handshake? Was it out of the realm of possibility that they’d lay eyes upon each other and immediately wrap themselves up in each other, kissing passionately in a romantic reunion?
Before he knew it, Cid was standing on her doorstep. He went to slam dunk the pills down his gullet, but he found that his hand was empty, free of his two little crutches. Another surprising change on his person was his championship belt, which had apparently gone from his hand to around his waist, mindlessly drifting from place to place much like his pills had.
Ever since being roofied by Ace Marshall as well as apparently drinking after taking Valium beforehand, Cid wondered if mixing Xanax and Valium was a normal thing to do. The combination of Valium, alcohol, and a roofie almost killed him. It was a miracle he was even able to make it to the arena the following day, so it made him curious whether or not mixing his two pills of choice had any harmful long term effects.
The issue was addressed with a shrug as they’d already been swallowed, making their way through his system much like his finger was making his way onto Elizabeth’s doorbell.
The chime sent a chill through Cid’s body. Everything had suddenly become so official. The moment was here and he needed to make a great first impression. How could he go about doing that? He wondered.
As the door opened, he struck a heroic pose – hands on hips, pelvis trusted forward to show off the gold, chest puffed out, and looking out into the distance – the “distance” in this case being the wind chime hanging near the door just a few feet away. In his mind, he looked like a glorious statue, expertly carved from stone, placed in front of this specific door to serve as a reminder of greatness.
“Oh, hey, champ,” that old familiar voice came from the doorway, instantly turning the heroic monument of stone into nothing but a mortal, pudgy man like everyone else.
Before he could even see her face, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into herself, but not too hard.
Champ, Cid thought. She called me champ… and she still smells like fresh fruits after all these years.
As the light embrace lingered, Cid knew he didn’t deserve any of this. The last time they spoke, Elizabeth comforted him after he found out that he had spinal stenosis, but he just blew her off and kicked her out of his house. She always gave him so much more than he deserved and he never gave it back, but it was always too late by the time he realized it.
Today had to be different.
Finally, her arms lifted off of him and they looked into each other’s eyes. His mind flashed back to their last meeting, where she looked as beautiful as the day they met, as cliché as it sounded. Cliché or not, he had a feeling of déjà vu upon seeing her once again. How different two people like himself and Elizabeth could look at forty – or at least heading towards their forties – was just unfair.
“You look like shit,” she said, almost crumbling Cid’s entire world, but softening the blow with a slight laugh as she lightly tugged on Cid’s beard. “What’s going on here?”
“You—… you called me champ,” Cid awkwardly stuttered. To think so highly of someone after everything they’d been through, it was—
Elizabeth pointed down at the World Championship around his waist, prompting Cid to look at it and remember that he was wearing it. It was only in that moment that he realized that he probably looked like a fucking idiot walking around the neighborhood while wearing a wrestling belt.
“Champ,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Oh, right, of course,” Cid mumbled quickly as he cleared his throat. “Just, uh… thought maybe you would wanna see the hardware.”
“It looks… heavy.”
“It is.”
“Maybe come inside then,” she suggested as she walked back through the doorway. “Set it down, take a literal load off?”
“Right,” Cid said through a shaky exhale as he walked in. “I shall.”
As the door closed behind him, he took in his surroundings. Not nearly as big of a front hall as his, but it was decent enough. She had apparently done well for herself. “Nice place,” he said as Elizabeth planted herself beside him. “Lots of things. Lot more than my house. My house is so empty, it just looks like a really expensive crack den.”
Elizabeth laughed as she recalled the first time stepping into Cid’s mansion. “Cid Turner’s King’s Colosseum,” he referred to it as. It was a monstrosity, but an admittedly breathtaking one, if only for the size. “I’m an interior designer. It’s my job to make this place look decent enough.”
“Right. I knew you were an interior designer,” lied Cid. He always knew she had some sort of creative job, but it was all white noise to him as their relationship became strained. He assumed she was in the world of fashion. Close enough, he figured. “So… all this makes sense. It’s, uh… well, I already said it was nice, didn’t I?”
Elizabeth just laughed in response, also noticing Cid picking at his fingernails with his hands at his sides as he scanned the house. “How ’bout a drink?” she offered.
“Oh, I still don’t—”
“Glass of milk?”
Cid was touched. “You know me so well.”
Catching up went even smoother than Cid had imagined. Confined to the kitchen with nothing but a glass of milk and a championship belt between them, the two caught up, much like they had eight years ago, and like then, it all came extremely naturally.
While a young marriage fizzling out quickly was usually a sign of the urgency of young love slowing down upon growing up, that seemed to do a disservice to their relationship. At this point, they’d spent way more time apart and not even seeing or speaking to each other at all than they had spent together, and yet, every time they were brought together, it was like talking to an old friend rather than a bitter ex.
And to Elizabeth’s surprise, Cid seemed truly interested in hearing about what she had been up to. While she didn’t mind not being the topic of conversation for the most part, it was at the very least notable that Cid had seemed to show any sort of thought towards another person other than himself. Keeping in touch with his family revealed to her that he had caught up with them all and seemed to be on good terms with everyone.
She always wanted to see him again, but she couldn’t go to him. He had to come to her. Everyone – including her – had spent enough time chasing after him through the years. He had to fix these things for himself, and it looked like he was at least trying to do just that. Today, she assumed it was her turn on Cid Turner’s tour of redemption.
“So, you’re back home?” she asked him, steering the conversation away from the topic of herself.
“Hm?” he hummed curiously, leading to her again gesturing towards his belt, which now laid on the table. “Oh. SCW.” He paused, looking down at his title. Years ago, he referred to SCW as nothing more than a platform to spread his message. But he knew the truth now. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“I was initially against coming back here, but you know what? I kind of like it. Family, old friends,” she said while studying Cid’s face as he continued to stare at the belt. Originally, she hated to see him this way, but with everything she’d heard, maybe living free like this was helping him be himself. David Letterman seemed decent enough after being freed from the shackles of late night television, homeless look and all. Maybe this is what Cid needed. “So many people are desperate to get out, but sometimes it’s good to go back home.”
It was coming home that brought him nearer to everything that he’d always wanted. Including her. “Yeah, I suppose so,” he mumbled. “I feel kind of stupid for all that wasted time. I guess that’s kind of what I do, though, isn’t it? Just throw things away, no matter how good they are for me.”
“You had the injury, though,” she deflected. “Not your fault there, is it? You got hurt doing what you love, y’know? Speaking of, what’s up with that? You and your little buddy, uh… what was his name?”
“Clyde,” he answered while rolling his eyes just thinking of the boy sitting in his truck just up the block. “Fuckin’ Clyde.”
“Right, you and him made it sound like you couldn’t work anymore. What happened?”
“What happened?” he echoed. The truth, Clyde had abused his power as Cid’s personal chef by discreetly mixing in discarded fetuses that he’d picked up from the black market. It turns out that they had healing properties or some scientific crap and the secret force feeding of said fetuses proved to be effective. So, the real answer to Cid’s miraculous recovery: fetus soup. The answer that he’d given to pretty much everyone else, though? “Medical miracle, I guess.”
“So you seriously got cleared? No funny business, no back alley doctors?”
“Not funny at all, no,” he said drearily. “It’s still something that’s in the back of my mind. There’s not a cure, per se, so sometimes I kinda feel like I’m living on borrowed time as far as my ring work goes.”
A stillness occupied the room as the two thought about the situation. She was there for the injury and was one of the very few to know of the diagnosis. He couldn’t think of those moments without thinking about the care she showed him.
“But… yeah, it’s great to be back,” he said gently. “I missed it more than you could even imagine.”
The ensuing silence was a curse that just made everything he’d been through run through his head at an alarming pace. While it was just a quick, awkward silence in Elizabeth’s mind, it was time without the much-needed distraction of conversation for Cid. He hated being inside his own head, which was a natural thing to think about given they were talking about the premature end of his career. What would he do without wrestling at this point? So much time to just sit and think. Too much time.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” he stated, almost sounding irked as his past sins danced around his mind. Having to apologize only served as a reminder. “I, uh… really screwed you over. You showed up that day…” He remembered lying back on the couch as she crouched next to him, tears in her eyes. He found that strange, that she was the one crying while he felt numb to the thought of his career being over. “You were just trying to comfort me.” She told him how much she still cared, even if they weren’t in love. She was there for him. “And I threw it back in your face.”
“Cid, you—”
“Hold on,” he interjected with a finger in the air, slowly drawing it down towards her as she stopped herself. “You told me that I have to stop getting in the way of myself… and I wanna tell you, you were exactly right. What’s stupid is I told you the exact same thing the night before all of that. I told you that you were right, but then look at what I did. I was so dumb.”
“You also said sorry that night, too.”
“I know, I know, but—… look, I—…” She was right. This all happened before and it meant nothing. He couldn’t help but think that maybe this was a bad sign for today, and if he was thinking it, then he could only assume that she was too. Not like he could blame her. History had a habit of repeating itself when it came to him.
“I’ve come a long way,” he told her, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments. “Okay? I know, it’s easy to just say that, but… I swear to you, I’ve grown. I’m an unfinished product, but I’ve grown a lot, and when I say I’m sorry, I swear to fuckin’ God, Liz, I mean it. I’m so sorry.”
Elizabeth smirked while running a hand through her blonde hair, the upturned lip a result of the natural satisfaction of being told that she was right, but also just the way he had laid it all out. “God, Cid, you’re so dramatic now,” she laughed.
“Oh,” Cid mumbled in return as he slumped in his chair. “Sorry.”
“I mean, all of this, all of that back then… it used to be like pulling teeth to get an honest conversation out of you where you didn’t talk some shit or crack a joke. It’s just kinda wild to me, y’know?”
“I guess this is growing up,” he answered bitterly. “You spend all of your life doing whatever you want to whoever you want until you reach a point where you have to make up for it all, then you just do that until you die, I guess.”
“Not necessarily. I mean, eventually you’re forgiven, right?”
“You tell me,” he said while eyeing his half-empty glass of milk, condensation building up due to neglect.
Again, Elizabeth smirked. She never was one for dramatics. With a slap to his leg, she woke Cid up from his mild stupor and brought his eyes to hers. “I forgive you, Cid.”
“Why?” he uttered suddenly, not even taking a second to let the forgiveness soak in. He’d waited eight years to say these things to Elizabeth and just as long to hear that in return, but now that it was here, it was kind of hard to believe. “Sorry, I—… I didn’t mean to ask that. I just—”
“Like it or not, we’ll always be connected,” she reassured him. “I’m as much family as your parents or your siblings, all of whom I consider my own family, but… Christ, Cid, I was basically a kid when I met you. We grew up together, for better or worse. You and I, we’ve been through a lot, and looking at it all out of context, I wouldn’t blame someone in my position for telling you to fuck off.”
“Right…”
“But I know better,” she said definitively. “Maybe we aren’t destined to be everything we thought we were when we were younger, but we’re meant to be in each other’s lives, somehow. So, that’s why I’ll forgive you. It’s why I’ll always forgive you.” He nodded softly. “Plus, you’re kinda useless without me and your folks, not to mention your brother and sister.”
She laughed. He didn’t. “Yeah, I’m helpless,” he agreed. He knew he didn’t deserve this, but it was what he wanted. Whether or not he deserved it didn’t matter anymore, because he got it. This was it. The fabled forgiveness. “Thank you.”
“I really mean it when I say this: don’t mention it.”
For the first time of the day, the two actually shared laughter. To Elizabeth, there was a sense of finality. There were still some things left to address, but she had entered a new era with her ex-husband. Uncharted waters laid ahead.
For Cid, though, there wasn’t time to celebrate. His mission was left incomplete.
“Don’t you think it’s kinda funny,” Cid started again after taking a sip of disgustingly warm milk, “how our lives have these sort of… acts?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, like… a movie. Act one: we meet. Love and marriage, but of course, it’s only the first act. There has to be struggle and conflict, right? Of which there was plenty.”
“Looking back, it really wasn’t that bad,” she said through a chuckle and a shrug of the shoulders. “Divorce makes it sound so terrible, but really, we were just immature.”
“You don’t divorce someone if it’s not ‘that bad,’ but I see what you mean, I guess.” She shrugged again before Cid continued. “That’s how it went, though, immature or not. But act two, we reunite. So long apart, but life brought us back together, ever so briefly, but enough to produce an unforgettable night.”
“I think by the time I got to your house, I was borderline hammered,” she explained, thinking back fondly on what she could remember of the ride up the insane mountain leading to his house. Sitting on the back of a Vespa, one arm around Cid’s personal driver, and her free hand full of free booze, making the cold Colorado winds just a bit warmer. “Not terribly memorable for me, no offense.”
“Oh. I see,” said Cid as his heart sank at the comment that could very easily be construed as an assault on his sexual prowess. “Anyway, it was unforgettable, just… you know, in a general sense.”
“Sure,” she shot back playfully.
“Listen, the point is… that was act two. The story wasn’t finished yet, so, y’know… struggle and conflict, like I said. It was still to be had. No respectable story is told in two acts, or even four. It has to be three, right?”
“So, this is act three? This movie has length issues.”
“Please don’t say length issues,” he quickly muttered before shaking his head. “Look, whatever, it’s fine, these things run long now. What I’m trying to say is that we had to go through his development, okay? Because without it, we wouldn’t be here. This was written in such a way that these things just had to happen.”
Elizabeth pondered the elevator pitch, just imagining it all play out in her head. Twenty or so years of Cid Turner. Thinking realistically, she couldn’t imagine that being a movie anyone would want to see, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Most of that was spent with him avoiding her and his problems at all costs. The two main stars would be apart for most of the film. The more she thought about it, the more the comparison made no sense. This movie sounded terrible. For his efforts, though, the least she could do was play along. It seemed like he’d been rehearsing this for hours, if not longer.
“Right,” she said with a nod. “We certainly developed. You’re a lumberjack and I’m—” She suddenly bit her tongue. “Well, I’m different.”
“We both are. We’re both different. Now, we use everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve learned…” His hand crawled across the table until it was placed over the top of her’s. She looked down at the physical gesture before looking back up at Cid’s hopeful eyes. “… to give this story the final act it deserves. A happy ending.”
This wasn’t what she wanted, not right now. After spending a night with him eight years ago, she heavily considered if maybe it was what she wanted, but those thoughts dissipated not long after. All of this time was spent just wanting him to come and make things right, but not like this. For her own sake, she had to stop thinking about those possibilities with Cid. It wasn’t meant to be.
However, with a light squeeze from Cid, she turned her palm up and clasped his hand, her fingers wrapping around his. “Cid, I—”
“Liz, let me just say one more thing,” he interjected. “I—”
In the doorway behind Elizabeth appeared a child, looking like some sort of magical forest creature with fake fairy wings strapped onto her back. Seeing Cid’s eyes suddenly drawn behind her, Elizabeth turned to see the same mythical little beast, almost jumping out of her seat to go over to her. Before Cid could even really register what was happening, Elizabeth crouched down to the child and ran a hand through her hair.
“Hey, sweetie, you okay?”
“Yes,” the child answered quietly, her gaze fixed on the hairy man in the kitchen with the remnants of a milk mustache.
No, Cid cried out in his mind. No fucking way.
It was only in the moment that Cid realized how naïve he was. Of course she’d have a kid. He assumed that most people looked at him as a (kind of) single man in his forties without a child and saw a failure in life. Whether or not society was right about that was a matter of opinion, but what was a fact was that most people his age are expected to have a family already.
So, yes, of course Elizabeth had a child. She was at that age and she was a total catch. It wasn’t even something he thought of for a moment, but it was so damn obvious. For all the talk about growing, Cid Turner was still a fucking idiot after all.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Bailey upstairs?” Elizabeth asked the child. In response, the girl stepped closer to her mother and whispered something in her ear. Elizabeth smiled. “Okay, well, go back up there! Go have fun with Bailey!”
She spoke so lovingly to the girl, Cid noticed. So happy, so excited. She loved her. Just from this small moment, Cid knew that she was an excellent mother. It made Cid feel even worse for resenting the child’s existence. There was a bitter sense of relief as the girl flew up and away, out of sight.
Elizabeth remained crouched in the doorway for a moment, watching her daughter as she went and stomped up the stairs. After what seemed like an eternity to Cid, she got up and made her way back over to the table. “Sorry, she’s with the nanny today, but she sometimes escapes just to see what’s going on,” she said somewhat sheepishly as she sat back down. “That’s my little butterfly.”
Cid couldn’t take his eyes off of where the child had just stood seconds ago. “Fairy,” he said passively.
“Hm?”
“Those were fairy wings,” he clarified, finally looking back at Elizabeth. “Butterflies have more, like, patterns and colors and that. Fairies have those see through kinda wings. Markings and fairy dust on ‘em, sure, but still, they’re usually transparent with light hues.”
“Watching a lot of Tinkerbell, then?”
“Sorry. Just… something I noticed, I guess.”
Elizabeth could only laugh at Cid’s reaction. The knowledge was appreciated, she guessed. “Listen, Cid, I’m just gonna cut to the chase. That’s our kid.”
Cid sighed and looked back at the doorway. He couldn’t stop thinking of her daughter standing there. A cute child, sure, but how was he supposed to accept her? It would just serve as a constant reminder that Elizabeth had moved on.
“I guess I should’ve expected you to get knocked up eventually,” he outwardly acknowledged, trying his best to not sound like what he was actually feeling inside. “Who’s the lucky man?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Sorry, I guess I could have worded that differently,” she admitted before taking a breath. “That’s your kid.”
The room seemed to shift a bit and Elizabeth seemed to fade out for just a second. Cid looked back at her, her presence grounding him. The pills must have just kicked in, he guessed. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
“That’s your daughter, Cid,” Elizabeth clarified even further, speaking slowly this time. “Together, that’s our child. You and I.”
They both just blinked at each other.
“Sorry, come again?”
“I’m kind of running out of ways to say it,” confessed Elizabeth with an awkward titter.
“She—…” Cid’s voice trailed off as he brought his arm up and pointed at the empty doorway.
Elizabeth looked back at it, expecting to see her daughter, but instead seeing what Cid saw: nothing. She turned back to him in confusion. “Um… yes. She. That was your daughter.”
“I—… I didn’t—…”
“I assure you, you did.”
“How did—…”
“I assume you know how,” she said flatly. “You probably recall it a lot better than I do, to be honest.”
“You—…” Finally, he looked back to Elizabeth. “You’re a mother?”
“Yes,” she sighed, though not with regret. She looked more at peace than he had ever seen her. “I am.”
She felt like such a sell-out.
Finishing high school, Elizabeth didn’t even think college was worth it. Submitting all of those applications to colleges at the request of her parents, it just made her feel bad. What a waste of money it would end up being for them and what a colossal waste of time it’d be for herself.
What would she even do? She wanted to be like Kathleen Hanna or Shirley Manson, but she didn’t have what it took to be a musician. Really, the most rebellious thing she could’ve done was drop out of high school and just run away to live life as a vagrant, but that was never a realistic option. What would be the next best thing then, to be able to express herself in the way that she wanted while under these constraints?
Seattle sounded ideal. Grunge may have been dead, but there was the so-called post-grunge movement in its place. It was where all the artists and activists went, even still. With her distinct artistic voice and unique style, she could lend a much-needed subtle touch to the scene, and with her easy-going personality, she could easily find and connect with some like-minded people there. There had to be a more “modern” school there. If not, maybe she could go anyway, college or not. She’d graduated high school, but she could still become a vagrant, just like she had dreamt of.
The acceptance letter from NYU elicited an eye-roll.
“Dear Elizabeth, Congratulations!” it began.
A sentiment echoed by her parents, friends, and everyone around her. It was an opportunity that she couldn’t pass up, or at least that’s what she was told.
Begrudgingly, she played along. New York was pretty corporate, but still had a thriving arts scene beneath it all. She’d also been told that you could “live broke” in NY at the time, which was enticing. If college didn’t work out, maybe she could just be a part-time waitress, live in a shitty apartment, and follow her true pursuits in her downtime.
New York, though, grabs you by the throat and demands that you grow up.
She finished college, she went through a marriage and followed it with a divorce, she got friends that liked pop music and blockbuster films, she let her natural hair color grow through, and she got a “real job”.
Now, years later, she sat in front of a nurse who just sat a cup of piss next to her, along with a pregnancy test. Elizabeth’s piss, for clarification, which she still could hardly believe herself. Motherhood seemed like such a mistake to her. How could she manage to get herself into this position?
Well, she knew. One drunken night with Cid Turner was one minute away from turning into an even more monumental mistake than it already had been.
“We just have to wait for one minute,” the nurse said as she squeezed a couple of drops of Elizabeth’s pee onto the test. Instinctually, Elizabeth peeked over her arm to look at the test. “It’s not ready. One minute.”
“Right, sorry,” Elizabeth laughed nervously. “Bit eager, I guess.”
“I completely understand,” the nurse said with a smile as she cleaned up around the table. Elizabeth tapped her shoe on the ground repeatedly, feeling like the faster she did it, the faster time was passing. Looking up at the ticking clock proved otherwise. “You all right, doll?”
The tapping stopped. “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“Just— well, there was a toddler out there,” said Elizabeth as she spied the test in the corner of her eye. “You know, in the waiting room.”
“And?”
“I dunno,” she replied as she drew her eyes away from the test and back to the clock. “I guess it just made me think about everything.” She paused, the ticking of the clock filling the brief beat. “Sorry, not ‘it’, that’s so rude. I think it was a boy.” Again, a glance at the test. “I don’t know, a lot of toddlers just look gender-neutral to me. It was either a cute boy or an ugly girl.”
The nurse chuckled in response as she picked up the test. “All right, let’s take a look at this one,” she said while inspecting the test, taking only a second to look at it before emitting some sort of happy chirp from her throat. She held out the test in front of Elizabeth. “It is a positive result. You are pregnant. Congratulations!”
Congratulations.
Elizabeth looked at the test. A little hole led up to a rectangle, which had two lines through it, one slightly faded. She had never actually seen one before, never needed to. It was kind of strange. Didn’t look very technological or scientific. Just a piece of plastic, really. Maybe it was wrong.
“Is it possible this is a false positive?” she finally asked, looking up beyond the test to see her nurse with a genuine smile on her face. “I’m thinking it’s a false positive.”
“And I’m thinking you’ve got a little baby in you!” the nurse replied happily, her joy only making Elizabeth feel worse as the reality of the situation finally began to set in. “Now, no heavy lifting. No smoking, no drinking. I’m not saying you do either of those things, you look great, but just make sure not to start now, okay?” The smile remained on her face after her attempt at a joke until she looked at Elizabeth, who seemed to be in shock while staring straight ahead. “You okay, hon?”
Elizabeth blinked away a tear and looked up at the nurse while forcing at least a half-smile. “Yeah,” she said softly, clearing her throat in an attempt to not choke up any further. “I’m okay.”
Pregnant with the baby of a man-child who she had a drunken one night stand with after not seeing him for almost ten years, no hope – or even a wish – of getting back together because he’d thrown yet another childish tantrum at the first obstacle, but yeah, everything was “okay”. Everything was fine. Everything was just like she imagined, of course.
From a rebellious teen with dreams of being part of something bigger and meaningful to a single mother in her thirties in New York, just another cog in the machine. Something all young girls could aspire to be.
The nurse gently rubbed her patient’s back as Elizabeth continued to look up at her. “Any other questions?” her nurse asked her.
“Am I glowing?” wondered Elizabeth. “Am I radiant?”
Without even any recollection of how he got there, Cid stood in the doorway of what appeared to be his daughter’s playroom.
His daughter.
There she was with her back turned to her father, messing around on a tablet with the surprisingly young nanny, just living her life like normal… like she had the previous seven or so years without him.
There was a lot of guilt within himself for the fact that his first impression of his own daughter was resentment. For the rest of his life, he’d always remember the moment he saw her for the first time and the feelings that came along with it. Before he even knew her name, he wrote her off, just because he thought she belonged to someone else.
But maybe feeling bad about it all was a good sign. He cared.
“What’s her name?” he asked in a whisper to Elizabeth, who stood beside him, both watching their daughter.
“I debated that for a long time,” she whispered back. “Thought of maybe naming her after my grandmother, but really, I’m pretty sure that she was a racist. I didn’t really want that bad juju.”
“Sure.”
“Considered naming her after myself, but that seemed self-indulgent.”
“Yeah.”
“And part of me thought I’d never see you again, but I wanted to make sure that you were always part of her in some way. So, I named her Sydney.”
Cid turned his head to Elizabeth and poked a finger on his chest. “Like… me?”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Yes… like you. But, uh, it’s S-Y-D, because no child should ever be called Cid with a ‘C’. No offense.”
Again, Cid looked at his daughter. So small. “Sydney,” he thought aloud.
His heart rate rose a bit, accompanied by a slight case of tunnel vision. With a soft gasp, he stumbled back. With no real idea of where he was going, he stumbled into the next room with Elizabeth behind him and sat on the nearest thing he could find. A bed, in this case. Judging by the decor, he was in his daughter’s room.
“You okay?” asked Elizabeth as she sat beside him on the small bed.
“Yeah, yeah, just gimme a sec,” he spat out through hastened breaths.
Another heart attack, he figured. If this was the one that finally did him in, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go, making up with Elizabeth and meeting Sydney.
He thought back to when he had one the night of Asher’s leg injury. The trainer that was checking on him, he told Cid to just breathe easy and think of a better place. The guy referred to it not as a heart attack, but a panic attack, which were foreign words to Cid at the time. People had been insisting that these attacks and pains that Cid had been feeling were all in his head. Physical manifestations of his mental struggles. It made no sense.
The advice of controlled breathing worked that night, though. But controlling your breathing wasn’t a cure for having a heart attack, he had to assume. So, he wondered…
Slowing his breathing, Cid sat up straight and closed his eyes. All he did was just think about the day, feel Elizabeth’s presence beside him, and breathe. Before long, everything was back to normal.
Not a heart attack. A panic attack.
He opened his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elizabeth asked again. Cid nodded. “Was it something I said?” He shook his head. The two just sat there for a while with nothing said as Cid’s fearful buzz slowly wore off. “You good?”
“I keep thinking back to when I was a kid,” Cid began as he looked down at his shoes.
Stood at the living room window in his pajamas, the boy looked outside into the cold, misty Colorado night. His eyelids drooped, but never fully. Even through exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep.
“My parents, they both worked so hard for us. Three kids, y’know – they had to work hard to support the family. I keep thinking back to those days, just thinking about how they’d work these long nights.”
Headlights seeped through the mist, making their way further down the street, closer and closer to the empty parking spot at the bottom of the seemingly endless stone stairs. It had to be them. Drifting from the window and to the front door, he opened it and went through, opting to wait in the cold. If it meant seeing them even a second sooner, it was worth braving the elements.
“I remember almost every night, we’d get put to bed by the babysitter, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d sneak downstairs and I’d wait by the window. I’d wait for them. Sometimes I’d even go outside for some stupid reason… but I’ll always remember that feeling of dread in my stomach as I looked down those long stairs we had, just silently praying that they’d show up soon.”
So many stairs, he never even bothered to count before, but as yet another car drove right by the empty parking spot, he couldn’t think of anything better to do. So, he sat on the top step and started to count. Counting them all – one-by-one – at least helped distract him from the freezing cold and his inner-turmoil.
“Every time a car went by, I just felt worse and worse. I don’t even know why, but I was just so damn scared that every night was potentially the night that they wouldn’t come back. It could have been anything, from a car crash, to a mugging at a gas station, or maybe they just decided they had enough of us. The possibilities seemed endless and I’d run through ‘em all, just torturing myself.”
He’d counted up to the fortieth step before another pair of headlights brought his eyes up, back to that empty parking spot that he had been gawking at for hours up to this point. The slick stairs almost caused him to slip as he eagerly stood up, hoping that this was what he’d been waiting for all night.
“But they’d always come home.”
Finally, the spot was filled, and out of the car came his mother and his father, looking up at him in a mix of confusion and concern. It was, after all, into the freezing early hours of the morning. Still, though, they couldn’t help but to eventually mirror the ecstatic smile on his face.
“Nothing was ever wrong… and yet, the next night, I’d do the same thing again. Every night, they’d leave and they’d come back, safe and sound. But every night, I was so scared that they wouldn’t.”
After the long trek up the stairs, they covered their son with a coat. He stuck himself to their legs and held on tight, not caring about his chattering teeth or the cold, dried tears on his face.
The memory seemed so vivid, but he brought himself out of it and looked at Elizabeth, who was listening intently.
“I’m suffering from massive anxiety issues,” Cid finally admitted. He felt a sudden sense of relief. “And, um… well, apparently there’s some depression mixed in there. According to the doctor that told me this back around the time I returned to SCW, they often go hand-in-hand, anxiety and depression. It makes sense, because… well, I’ve been having a hard time. God, it’s so damn often that my heart just randomly sinks, I’m waiting for it to fall outta my ass one day.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled, just looking up at the ceiling. “That’s the first time I’ve actually said all of that out loud,” he quietly confessed. “I think I’ve been in denial for… months and months, maybe even longer. I’ve kept thinking that I’m dying, but… I don’t think I am. I think what everyone’s saying to me is true. That’s why I’ve been thinking of my childhood so much lately. These problems, I think they’ve been going longer than I ever really realized.” He stopped to think. “I just reached a boiling point, I guess.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat as Cid paused, maybe lost in thought. “Well… I mean, I could have told you that,” she said with a small giggle.
“Huh?” he hummed, still staring at the ceiling.
“Cid, we’ve all seen you on TV. Your family, they’d shown me some stuff, and it was clear that you were struggling. But as time went on, they told me that you were reaching out and you were staying committed to your work, and it looked like you were getting better.”
“I hadn’t felt that way,” he said. “Not even once.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to realize these things while you’re going through them, but I’m telling you, your parents and your brother and sister— your brother especially, they’ve been telling me about how proud they were of you for facing your problems,” she remarked with reassurance. “It’s like you’re a whole new man.”
“I don’t know,” Cid said through a sigh, still looking up at nothing in particular. “Sometimes I just think, what if I lose control? Do I just break one day and end up eating wood chips in a park? Ever since all of this stuff has been happening, it’s like that weight was put on my shoulders and it still hasn’t left.”
“Look at me,” Elizabeth snapped softly, bringing Cid’s gaze to her own with a finger on his chin. “Those nights waiting for your parents, you grew out of that. You learned that everything was fine and your brain eventually adapted. I promise you, that same process will be repeated with this. One day, you’ll look back at this tough time and just… be happy. Happy with how far you’ve come.”
Cid bit down on his cheek to distract him from the mounting feelings inside. “You’re right,” he said with a gentle nod. “Lately, I’ve been feeling a little bit better. Things are starting to look up. I feel like I’m maybe moving closer to some form of happiness, however slowly.”
“That’s good,” she told him, resting a hand on his knee.
“I feel like I’m missing something, though. I need you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Cid, I—”
“Hold on, can you—… just listen, okay?” Before Elizabeth could even accept the offer to listen, Cid continued anyway. “I’ve been doing all of this work. I told you, I’ve grown a lot from when we last spoke, and I’m trying to grow even further, but I know that you’re the missing piece in all of this. I’ve—… I’ve found my purpose. My purpose is to wrestle and to just be the absolute best of all time, but… I need someone to share that purpose with. I can’t reach these goals alone, I just can’t. I’ll never become the best if I’m just doing it for myself. I want to do it for us. For me, you, our family.”
“Listen, Cid—”
“I’m on my way to becoming the best version of myself that I’ve ever fuckin’ been,” he declared undeniably. “But it means absolutely nothing if I don’t have someone to share it with. God, no, that’s not even right. It can’t just be someone. It has to be you, Liz. You, and Sydney. This is what we’ve been building to our entire lives. All that bullshit we went through, all those times we were torn apart only to find each other again, it all had meaning. It was all leading to this.”
“Can I—”
“Marry me, Liz.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what—”
She jolted back a bit with her hands up defensively as he fell to a knee at the edge of the bed, reaching out and taking her hand in his and clutching it tight.
“I don’t have a ring or anything, but please,” begged Cid. “I’ll never fuck up again, I swear to you. I’ve been through hell and now I’m back on planet fuckin’ Earth and I need someone here to know me – to truly know me – and to see what I’ve become to make it all worthwhile. Please, Liz, please marry me.”
“Jesus, I—”
“Elizabeth,” he said firmly, once again cutting her off. She went to speak, but stopped herself. Even if she could find the words, she wasn’t sure if they would be allowed to come out. Still on a knee, Cid asked once again. “Will you marry me?”
“So, yes, Asher and I will defend our titles… but that’s not all I’ve got to do, is it?”
Cid reaches out of frame before pulling back and revealing the SCW World Championship belt, holding it up to the camera. He brings it down and props it up against his stomach, letting it rest on his lap in full view.
“Datura,” he began again. “Look, I realize that things haven’t gone the way they should have between us. I mean, when Holly managed to tell me the compliments you’d given me on social media in between all of the insults she was hurling your way, I was taken aback. More than anyone outside of Asher, you showed me support. You were honest, respectful, and it seemed like we were both honored to be in the position we found ourselves in.
Then the haircut happened,” Cid stated regretfully, quickly shaking his head. “I get it, okay? This business, this place – it can be so terrible. All we can do is try to make the best of it and maybe have some fun. Let’s not forget the time that I defeated an army of penguins, only for you and Kim to come out and get my pursuers involved in your legendary Ass Stapling Match. Before Kim ran around with that ridiculous Lizard Championship, you were there to defend your Unsanctioned Championship, and while that scared me because I didn’t want to be killed randomly backstage, I at least respected it, because you were making something out of literally nothing.
And I just have to assume that’s what you were doing when you stormed the ring during Holly’s Life Coaching ceremony, also known as Asher’s haircut. You wanted to make a name for yourself, just weeks away from facing me for the biggest prize in the world. The problem is that you chose the wrong moment.
I mean, had you seen Asher’s hair before that night?! It was amazing! Long, flowing locks. You can see I’ve tried to keep the spirit alive with my mane, but let’s be frank… it’s just not the same. Point being, this was a monumental moment. I tend to roll my eyes at people building things up with hyperbole, but what happened that night was exactly as advertised. It was a life changing announcement. My best friend took a leap of faith and I wanted to be there for him in his moment of need.
So, when I saw you come in and start walloping everyone, I couldn’t just stand back and let it happen, no matter how much mutual respect we had for one another. That night, we chased each other all around the arena, and while that happened, Chris Cannon came in and ruined my best friend’s night, despite my good friends Adam and Bison trying their best to stop him. I let Asher down, Datura, and it was because I was busy trying to defend him from you.
But, look, I wanna move on from that, and I hope you do, too. I know that your opinion has seemed to shift a bit, given the events of these last few weeks, but… I’ll tell you this. My opinion of you hasn’t changed. Which is to say…
Well, I see a lot of myself in you. Really, it’s been surprising how much I’ve related to people over these last few months, considering how much I hated them all years and years ago, but let me tell ya, there’s a big difference between me relating to people like Adam Allocco or even Chris Cannon and me relating to someone like you. Because in this particular moment in time, I feel like you and I are making history.
People like you and me, Datura, we aren’t supposed to be here.
That doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be here. We do, the both of us… but to get here, we had to fail. More than just your typical failure, we had to fail on a public stage, baring our souls to the world, stripping ourselves of any value in front of everyone just for the chance to potentially be valuable. Rise to Greatness, I lost to Dark Fantasy. I came back from a long absence and I failed, there’s no two ways about that. You— you got your chance against Chris Cannon in that absurd gauntlet and – despite all of your talk about how you had to prove your worth – you blew it.
What do you think people thought of us after those moments? Seeing me, sulking around backstage every week, scared of my own shadow while Asher would quite literally put me on his back, just because he still saw something in me. What about you? God, there she was. That Datura, coming up short once again. Commentary tells us about how much you’ve overcome just to get here… and that’s worthy of mentioning, yeah, but when people see your failure, what do you really expect ‘em to think? Of course they doubted you. They doubted you, just like they doubted me.
You sent a message out to me, telling me that I know what to expect from you because I know what failure does to people like us. Well, now, everyone knows what failure does to people like us. The unseen torture that we’ve survived speaks volumes about the type of people that we are. While our failures eat away at us a lot more harshly than they do others, look at what we end up doing with it, once it’s all said and done. Our experiences mold us into even stronger human beings… and what happens?
We end up main eventing a pay-per-view for the SCW World Championship.
This is ‘the match that should not be’ between two people who have often been mistaken as lesser than. So, you’re exactly right. I know what to expect from you, and you know what to expect from me. This is why – despite what we’ve been through lately – I’ll always look at you as someone who understands the struggle, and I’ll always respect you for that, no matter what else happens. If no one else but me understands that then screw what everyone else thinks, because we know what they don’t. We know that this match means everything to everyone who’s ever found themselves thinking that they weren’t worthy. On Sunday night, we show them that they are and show everyone in the locker room that we are. We deserve this.
That being said…” His voice trailed off. Looking down at the belt propped up on his lap, he physically cringed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, appearing genuine. “I’m sorry, because while you’re worthy to be here, standing toe-to-toe with me, you’re just not ready for this.” He stopped and tapped his fingers on the belt. Shaking his head, he continued. “Don’t take that as a slight against you, because it’s not. It’s just where you’re at. When I won this title, I didn’t think I was ready, but the way I’ve been feeling ever since Asher and I have held this belt together shows that I was, I just didn’t know it. If that huge title match happened just a month prior to Retribution? I don’t think I’d be sitting here with the belt. I was on the cusp, but… I needed a moment, y’know?
Beating Chad Evans freed me. There are so many things that lifted me to where I am today, but without that exact moment, Asher and I are not your World Champions. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘yes, Cid, you’re right,’ and for that, I thank you for your acknowledgement, but what I’m also sure you’re thinking is, ‘that scaffold scramble was my moment,’ but no, it wasn’t. That was a moment. Not the moment.
Listen, I know these things… because I’ve lived them.
You unclipped that briefcase and pulled it in close, clutching it right up against your beating heart. You did it. You won the biggest match of your career, which meant even bigger things were coming. All that physical and emotional suffering, it was suddenly all worth it, because you were getting a shot at what everyone wants. That same night, I experienced the same sensations. We both overcame our mountain of failure, but there was a major difference between us. I reached the top. You reached an opportunity to get to the top.
You’re not ready to be where I am. Facing me is going to be an important moment in your career, because once I beat you, Datura, you’re gonna have to realize that this is all part of the plan. Your path unfortunately crossed with mine at this exact moment in time and this is just the way that it has to be. There can only be one World Champion… well, I guess Asher and I are both World Champion, but you know what I mean! My reign isn’t going the way of Chris Cannon. I respect the man, but it was proven at Retribution whose time it was. It’s my time.
And your time? Well, it’s gonna come. You can trust me on that, because like I said, I’ve been through it. I’ve sat on the cusp for so long that I thought maybe that’s just where I belonged, and I’m not going to hold it against you if you think the very same thing after Sunday night, but all I can ask you to is to not. Because one day, you’re gonna be where I am. You’re gonna be holding this title and you’ll be talking to a camera to someone else who needs to hear this. You’re gonna have to be the one to be the bearer of bad news, and then you’ll think back to now and just think, ‘man, Cid was right,’ which, again, thank you for the future acknowledgement.
But at Be Careful What You Wish For, I have to continue to doing what I do, which is prove people wrong. People like Kat Kelly and Chris Cannon, they’re saying these mean things about me. Not just about me, but about Asher, and even Holly! I’ll admit, for a minute there, their words got to me… but then I really thought about it. They’re accusing me of taking a backseat to #Hasher, like I’m being strung along, but that’s just not true. These people are my friends. Asher’s my best friend. I don’t hold these titles without him and it’s been my honor to share both the World Championship and the World Tag Team Championships with him.
These people act like this is a weakness. It’s not. So many people in this company, they just fight for themselves, y’know? Which, of course, that’s important, but… there’s more to life. You have to fight for others, too. On Sunday, you and I are fighting for people that think they don’t deserve better, but I’m also fighting for Asher Hayes… and Holly, too, I guess,” he quickly added with a shrug. “And you know what that makes me? That makes me the hardest fighting World Champion of all time. I don’t just have the strength of myself to rely on. I have the strength of Asher, of Holly, of the people. With them beside me, this will be my year, and the last time I checked, we’re not even halfway through it.
And hey, maybe you think you’re also fighting for Bree. She certainly seems to think that a date between you two is set in stone and she has you playing right along, despite the fact that I’m standing right here in front of you. But you and Bree, you two wanna overlook me and disrespect me, playing fantasy with each other on the internet and all over TV? Fine. I’ll play spoiler. The last time people didn’t show me any respect and didn’t believe in me winning two matches in one night— God, I don’t even have to tell you, do I? You already know. It’s why I’m here and it’s why I’ll still be here when this is all said and done.
Datura… your journey to the top, it continues at Be Careful What You Wish For, but it’s not finished. I think we both know that. So while you may no longer hold respect for me, I wanna leave you with these words. When I beat you and successfully defend the World Championship on behalf of A/C Unit, it will mean everything in the world to me that you were my first defence. There’s no one I’d rather do it against. Sunday is just another valley among your life’s peaks, but it’s my honor to be that valley, because I know what it represents. It’s your final valley. The last one you’ll ever have to dig yourself out of before reaching that ultimate peak. You losing to me will be the most important thing that has ever happened in your career, and that’s because of the knowledge it will grant you. While you look up at those lights in defeat, I’ll stand tall over you, a comforting shadow looming over. You’ll look into my eyes and think, ‘yeah… one day, that’ll be me. One day.’”
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 