Post by Zahara Matisse on Jun 11, 2016 3:43:03 GMT -6
”It’s not what hides behind my smile, but what is obvious behind my eyes…”
I. The Power of Positivity... It Hurts And Stings
”Doing good things should make you feel good, and even more so when you do them not out of some sense of obligation but without thought of reward. Ever since I got the call shortly after Breakthrough 46 from the Make-A-Wish folks, I’ve been alternating between bouncy eagerness and abject terror. As wonderful of an opportunity as this is, I’m terrified that I’m going to mess it up. But how do you mess up meeting a fan? Nothing is demanded of you save time and attention. Talk, listen… smile, laugh… give a little something back to the people who support you. That’s simple, right?
Leave it to my brain, though, to make things complicated.”
Back and forth the dark-haired woman paces, the knapsack over her shoulder bouncing with every hurried step. Periodically she brings her right wrist up, gold eyes flicking toward her watch before said arm is folded back in place and the pacing resumes its frantic pace. Upon a chair in the background sits a large shopping bag with a VoW logo on it and, at the far extremes of her path, heavy white doors with frosted glass. The area has a certain sterility to it in the form of an unnatural cleanliness, enough that one might imagine the scent of disinfectant or, for the softer of us, fresh laundry.
Coming to a stop that lasts longer than three seconds before the chair, Zahara puts her hands to her face, fingers rubbing into her eyes. They come down and she glances at the clock on the wall, breathing heavily into her praying hands. The sharp click of an opening door gives her a start and she turns quickly, the hem of her long black skirt flowing out just a bit from the generated breeze. A short woman of advanced age comes into view, swathed fully in white with gray-streaked red swept into a messy bun beneath her cross-emblazoned cap. She greets Zahara with a grandmotherly smile which doesn’t hide her considerable vitality one iota.
“Miss Madigan? They’re ready for you, dear. Just go right in whenever you’re ready.”
Gnawing on her lower lip, Zahara looks from the nurse to the door and back again. One deep breath later is all it takes to reveal the smile that VoW fans have come to know and love. She nods to the older woman and speaks softly.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m… well, I’m pretty nervous…”
“Is there a reason that you should be?”
Fixing a canny gaze on the Magical Maiden, the nurse awaits an answer. With her attention now firmly affixed on the door, Zahara lets out a sigh and shakes her head.
“This is just new to me, on top of being a bit… shocking, I guess?”
“Ah. You’re wondering why, when presented with the opportunity, someone like Jamie would choose to meet someone like you over a grander request.”
From almost any other soul, ‘someone like you’ would have sounded negative at best. This old nurse, no doubt a lifer in her chosen profession, managed to make the sobriquet a fair shade of complementary. In lieu of a response far less eloquent, Zahara merely nodded. The older woman walks forward, putting a gnarled-yet-strong hand on the purple-sleeved arm of the rookie wrestler.
“If… no, I correct myself. when he sees you, and you see how he lights up like a Christmas tree, you’ll understand.”
“Honestly, I think stepping into the ring with Constance Chapin in a couple weeks is officially less nerve-wracking than what I’m about to do, ma’am.”
“Afraid I don’t know who that is, sweetheart.”
The smile comes more quickly yet is of a subtler tone. Yet speaking of her opponent for Fate of the Gods II causes a more relaxed state of being for the Enchanting One.
“She’s an amazing woman and one of our top champions... as well as someone I have immense respect for and who I’m proud to call a friend. I have the pleasure and the pressure of facing her for the second time very soon and the heat, as they say, is on. But I’d feel calmer knowing I was across the ring from her seven nights straight than I do right now. I just...”
Trailing off, Zahara stares off down the hallway, trance-like. The woman gives the magician’s arm a little shake, which brings her back with an apologetic blush.
“...I want this to be worth it for him.”
“Like I said, dear: you’ll see. Now, off with you! Mush!”
The cheek pinch this grandmotherly woman gives Zahara makes the Jersey native squeak and even jump a little, but it was good-natured at its core; just the sort of thing kindly old ladies are known for when cuteness is afoot. Picking up the aforementioned bag by the handles, Zahara takes a deep breath and turns toward the door. Before taking a single step, though, she turns to the camera.
“You getting all this, hon?”
“From the cheek-pinching onward.”
Visibly rolling her eyes at Farrah’s retort from behind the camera, Zahara shakes her head… but her smile persists, as her friend intended. The magician strides up, opens the door and slowly makes her way inside the patient’s room. Despite being a pre-teen, Jamie Grimes was a smaller boy than his age would indicate, no doubt attributed to his illness. Even sitting up, the large hospital bed in which he spent most of his time only made the boy look that much smaller. At his side was a well-dressed older man with salt-and-pepper hair, speaking with Jamie quietly yet intently. A woman was also present, but looked to Zahara to be a bit young for a mother of a child of nine if she were basing things on the father’s obvious age.
Three sets of eyes were on Zahara immediately when the door quietly closed behind her and Farrah. Jamie’s expression registered every bit of excitement that one would expect from meeting an admired figure. His father, turning from his son to Zahara, showed a mixture of relief and similar happiness. As for the young woman, hers was a curious expression as she stared at Zahara, neither hostile nor welcoming. Upon setting the shopping back down on a nearby chair, the magician approached Jamie and greeted the young man with a hug that he eagerly returned.
”It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, James! Your father told me so much about you!”
”He didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did he?!”
The father can’t help but chuckle at that one, though the woman manages but a half-smile. Zahara stole a brief glance at her, which caused her to tense up a little. Thankfully, James didn’t seem to notice.
”Just how big of a fan of VoW that you were, how you’ve seen every show and can almost recite the results, about your crush on…”
The magician’s tone becomes teasing at the last few words, giving the father a little wink which makes him laugh outright. James, of course, flushes a little and rolls his eyes.
”Da~d!”
”And on that note, I’ll leave you both to it. Coming, Janice?”
The young woman nods, pausing only briefly to offer a smile to James, who smiles back. Zahara doesn’t even warrant a passing glance as Janice follows her father out of the room. As the door closes, James turns to his guest and after a couple moments, pats her hand and smiles as reassuringly as he can.
”Janice is very protective of me, Miss Matisse, ever since mom passed on.”
Turning from the door back to James, Zahara smiled gently.
”My friends call me Zoey, James. Is she your sister?”
”Uh-huh.”
”But in some ways she’s kind of a surrogate mother too, I’m guessing.”
James glances at the door himself briefly, a smile tugging slightly at his lips before he nods.
”Dad says a lot he’d be lost without her around.”
”Reminds me a little bit of my brother...”
It isn’t until his focus is back on Zahara, however, that the nurse’s affirmation of the young man’s joy in meeting one of, if not his most, favorite wrestlers was proven true. This wasn’t the same level of excitement displayed on the magician-turned-wrestler entering the room. No, any famous figure would have garnered those eyes and that smile. This was the true ‘oh-my-God!’ moment where his jubilation went off the charts.
He was practically bouncing in his seat. Unable to contain her own smile, not that she was trying to mind you, Zahara reached for the bag she’d placed on the chair after entering. Placing it on the bed next to James, whose attention is immediately upon it, she immediately starts taking things out of it. The young man’s excitement is enough to chase away the emotions that typically came with remembering how much she missed her brother.
”I looked into that young man’s eyes that day and I’ll never forget what I saw there. You would never have guessed just how serious his condition was or how much it had taken away from him. He was so happy and… exuberant. Just a ball of energy, really. So much strength packed into such a small person that it left me in awe.”
Narrating the moment with the benefit of perspective and hindsight, Zahara speaks over what we’re seeing as before our eyes she retrieves a large amount of VoW merchandise from that bag. All part of the wish that was being granted, of course, but from the looks of things the Magical Maiden went the extra mile; the trading cards, poster and shirts were signed, the DVD hadn’t even been released in stores yet and… well, then there was the final piece. A padded envelope which Zahara deftly kept in her hands and set upon her lap as James gazed gratefully upon what was already lain before him.
”We’ve all heard the stories, telling us about how these children living with such debilitating illnesses and conditions are some of the strongest and most upbeat people you’ll ever meet. James proved all of those stories right and then some. Our smiles were locked into place for the whole time that I visited him...”
”Thank you so much for all of this! I can’t wait to show everyone!”
”Well, you’re more than welcome! I’d like to ask a small favor, though, if you don’t mind?”
”Oh, anything! What is it?”
Reaching into her pocket, Zoey retrieved her phone and activated the camera, showing it to James.
”A picture so that I can remember today, when I made a new friend.”
James, of course, was more than agreeable. Leaning in so that both of them were clearly in frame, Zahara snapped a picture of the both of them. And in the wake of that touching moment? A lot of silly faces and further snapshots that left both laughing until their faces were red.
”Oh, you gotta show these to my dad and Janice!”
”I’ll make sure they get a copy of every one of them… even this one where I look like a fish!”
”You look like you could be in Finding Nemo!”
And that just set off another fit of giggling, complete with very bad voice imitations of the characters in said Disney film. And you haven’t lived, friends, until you’ve heard sweet little Zahara Matisse try to put on a deep voice to sound like Bruce the shark. Once they settled, Zoey holds up one of the shirts that she’d brought along, this one emblazoned with an image of the poster for Fate of the Gods II and multiple signatures. James, it seems, wants to try it on and Zahara offers him a hand in getting it in place.
”...but when I left, I was honestly ashamed of myself. Don’t misunderstand me on that, though, because it had nothing to do with James. He is, and will be for a very long time I’m sure, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. Genuine, full of light and life. If everyone in the world could have a little of his zest for life, we’d be a better people for it. I just…”
The thought isn’t completed at that moment, however. As James admires the new shirt, Zahara gently places the bag back on the floor and sets both hands upon the envelope in her lap. Her fingers curl tightly around the edges of it, making the paper crinkle a little bit. The young man across from her is oblivious to it, but Zahara is gnawing on her lip in an obvious display of nervousness on the level she’d shown in the hallway. A million thoughts in a millionth of a second.
After taking a deep breath or two, she lifts her head and puts her smile back on. It came so naturally around James, she found, that she didn’t even have to think about it like she did when she was on stage or doing promo shots for the company’s commercials and advertisements of shows. He just… drew it out of her naturally. As such, her smile was tinged with a heavy dose of thankfulness.
”So, I got a question, James.”
”Huh? Sure, what’s up?”
”You’re… y’know, allowed to leave here sometimes, right? Like, you get to go home and hang with the family sometimes and other stuff, don’t you?”
”Oh! Yeah, I get to do that sometimes. Usually once or twice a month I’m able to get out and do stuff. Dad’ll set us up a day of going to an amusement park or seeing movies or something. We always take lots of pictures, too, kinda like you an’ me just did.”
Relief found its way into Zahara, both through her smile and the physical reaction of her tension dwindling a considerable amount.
”I’m glad to hear that. See, I wanted to a little something more than just visit you today. And I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to.”
”Oh, yeah? Say, what’s in the envelope there?”
Zahara picks up the object and hands it to James, saying nothing. Curiously, James accepts the envelope and opens it. Digging around inside, he comes up with a set of tickets and full-access passes for Fate of the Gods II. Four, to be exact.
”Those are tickets to the show next week. Enough for you, your dad, your sister and a friend to come to the show and even come in the back and meet some of the folks I wrestle with. I talked to the Make-A-Wish people already about this and they told me that if you’re able to make time for it, they’ll get everyone to St. Paul to see the show.”
Well, the little guy is pretty awestruck. After all, shirts and cards and posters and such… all that’s pretty cool. But actually getting to see a show live? And not only that, but the biggest show of the year? That there is amazing. He’s actually stunned into silence, barely reacting as Zahara reaches over and sets her hand on his.
”What do you say? Can you make it?”
His answer was another big hug, which Zahara happily returned. All at once James became super-animated again while Zahara sat, watching and listening, enjoying the outpouring of enthusiasm and happiness from James. When he wears himself out from all the excitement, Zahara responds at last.
”It’ll be great to have you there cheering us on.”
Both look up as the door opens, allowing the young man’s father, sister and the nurse who’d ushered Zahara into the room in the first place to enter. Of course, James is quick to show them everything and his father is quick to share in the joy that his son has, as is the nurse who James appears to be equally fond of. Then again, the aged woman had the sort of air about her that made her simply impossible to not like, something to which Zahara could easily attest.
It was Janice’s reaction, however, that got the magician’s attention most. It isn’t that she doesn’t share in her little brother’s happiness, because the smile on her own face and how she responds to his eagerness proves that she indeed does. It’s in the look that she gives to Zahara when their eyes meet over the heads of the others. She crosses the room to Zahara, speaking quietly.
”Come with me.”
”...I looked upon him and the strength he had, not once mentioning why he was sick or how much it affected him, and felt weak. All the thoughts I’d been harboring and all the pressure I’d been putting on myself came to the fore and I felt so completely selfish that I wanted to scream. He had every reason to have a little black cloud following him around, floating over his head and raining on him constantly. But he was more alive than most healthy people. He could look life in the eye, above all the hurdles it put before him, and just grin to show that the world would never, ever get him down.
So what did that make me?”
Confused by the forward request, Zahara turned to James and gave him a wave and a smile.
”Your sister wants to have a word with me, hon. I’ll see you in just a bit, okay? Make sure you show your dad those pictures!”
”Yup!”
Janice walked out first and her back was still to Zahara when the door closed behind them. The nervousness crept back in immediately and the magician became tense. There was a stiffness to the big sister’s shoulders and the air felt thick with foreboding. The blonde turned around after a second or two and Zahara took in her appearance properly for the first time. Her hair was wrapped up in a clip and her business suit perfectly pressed and tailored to her figure. Striking blue eyes stared at Zahara from a face with smooth-yet-severe features, from her thin lips to her slightly-pointed nose.
Zahara felt a little intimidated by the woman and it showed. She managed to maintain eye contact well enough but it was obvious that this woman before her, no doubt very close in age to Zahara herself, was intense on a whole different level. That, perhaps, is why it felt so odd for the Enchanting One to hear her speak in a voice so soft.
”I want to thank you for showing up today, and to apologize also.”
”You don’t have to apolog-”
”Yeah, I do.”
Janice cuts Zahara off and rather than trying again to explain, the magician nods quietly and lets the woman finish.
”I’m extremely protective of James. Our father would tell you that I’m too much so. But that little boy in there has it a lot rougher than he’d ever let anyone know and the last thing I want is for him to get hurt. He already has to live without a mother and there’s no guarantee that we’ll find a donor who has what he needs...”
The blonde sort of trailed off at that point, her attention going to the door behind Zahara. She wanted to speak up, to try and explain her own feelings on the matter, but when Janice returned to staring at her Zahara held herself back.
”His father and I work very hard to keep hope alive in him. And I’ll admit that I was skeptical when I heard you were coming today. But… I honestly haven’t seen him smile like that in a while. I can admit now that my first impression about you was wrong. It’s just… it’s hard to lose someone that you revere and to try and pick up the pieces from where they left off. Do you understand what that’s like?”
Hers was a sadder sort of smile, but Zahara kept it on regardless. Walking over to Janice with her phone in hand, she swipes through her pictures until she came to one of herself and Drake taken before his final deployment. Janice looks closely at the picture for a few moments before turning to Zahara.
”...your boyfriend?”
”My late brother. Died during deployment in Afghanistan.”
”I’m… sorry.”
Shaking her head a little, Zahara continues to gaze at the picture with undisguised longing.
”Don’t be. It’s my way of showing you that I do understand what you mean. You and James lost your mother and now you’re doing your best to fill in that void and keep your little brother safe and happy. I lost my brother and now I’m doing my best to achieve the dream that him and I shared by being the best wrestler that I can be. But it isn’t just about what we do in the ring and in front of the cameras. A lot of it is about people like James.”
Putting her phone away, Zahara turns to the door as she stands beside Janice, looking very vulnerable at that moment.
”When I got the call I was so nervous. But when I saw your brother’s smile, all that went away. He’s an amazing person. All of you mean so much to him and I know that it’s because of you that he’s able to greet every day with a smile. You’re more than doing your part, Janice… same with your dad. The same as I hope that Drake is smiling on me from above, I’m certain that your mother is doing the same.”
”I hope so.”
”Do you think you’ll all be able to make it to the show next week?”
Wiping a single tear away from one of her bright blue eyes, Janice nodded and smiled slightly at Zoey.
”I wouldn’t dare tell James no on that one. You went above and beyond the call there.”
”It was worth it. He’ll have a great time.”
”Yeah… yeah, he will.”
Both women are quiet for a minute before Janice speaks up.
”Well, let’s not have them thinking we snuck off somewhere so I could yell at you. Shall we?”
”Absolutely.”
Together, both women re-enter the room and close the door behind them. The last view is the image of that closed door and the faint outline of shadowed figures moving behind the blinds as Zahara narrates once again.
”I knew something else once I left the hospital that day: I knew that I’d never meet another person as amazing as James Whitman. Never in a million years. He was right up there with Drake on the list of people who inspired me so much just by being in my life however briefly. And I also knew… that I hadn’t been holding up to my personal standards of truth lately. Not with others, but with myself.
And now, on the eve of my biggest and most important match yet, I realize that that has to stop. Even if it costs me what I covet so highly.”
Fade to black.
II. The Truth Hurts… Just The Way I Like It
’Tis better to err on the side of caution… to beg forgiveness than to ask permission… all those cute little cliches we like to tell ourselves to make the bad feelings go away when we’ve done wrong, inadvertently or otherwise. But sometimes you can’t be so glib when it comes to such things. Sugar doesn’t stick to honesty, my apprentices. And sometimes there ain’t enough honey in the world to sweeten the taste of truth to a palatable level. You just gotta (wo)man up, take your medicine and feel the burn from throat to gut.
Believe me when I say that in the end, you’ll feel better for having braved it all. And those to whom you offer the same will respect you all the more.
Fiery bands of orange and crimson rest at the horizon line out in the distance, the last vestiges of the daylight giving way to the blues and purples of night’s first hours. Here, well removed from the city lights and all the glare and stress that often come with them, the number of stars in the sky will multiply considerably. To this day, Zahara considered it one of the best parts of moving from New Jersey to California months ago. Couple it with the soft, sandy beach just out the back door and down the steps from Katalina Star’s palatial Malibu home and being not only rocked to sleep but gently awoken by the sound of the waves lapping at the shore and… well, you get the idea.
The lights in the house are dim even at this hour, meaning Katalina herself is likely neck-deep in business matters and that Holly and Ariel are going about their nightly duties as they always do so impeccably. And as for the young lady termed ‘princess’ by Zahara herself? She’s probably curled up with her favorite stuffed kitten, dreaming about beautiful, childish things. Where, then, is the woman herself? The camera turns unwillingly thanks to the will of the woman behind it to focus on the back door of Katalina’s home. It both opens and closes with the softest of clicks as Zahara exits onto the deck, obviously not wanting to disturb anyone inside. Once the door is safely shut, Zahara leans back against it and folds her bare arms beneath her chest. Her eyes are closed and her head is lowered slightly as the ocean breeze tugs at her unbound hair and the hem of the purple sun dress she’s wearing for the evening.
”Hey, Zo… you think maybe we should wait to get this done? I mean, you got till tomorrow night, don’t you?”
Lifting her head now, Zahara fixes her golden eyes on Farrah and smiles faintly. Raising her left hand to tuck hair behind her ear and ever-so-carefully adjust the white dahlia woven into her dark locks, she shakes her head a little.
”I know I don’t look it, Farrah, but… I’m ready. I… I really can’t sit on this any longer. Constance has too much of my respect to be kept waiting any longer. It shouldn’t have taken me this long in the first place.”
”It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but you’ve been so quiet and reclusive since you spent the day with that James kid that I…”
Farrah stops herself, lowering the camera as the view switches to one showing both women. Zahara’s childhood friend is so rarely shown on camera herself, and by her own choice. It’s hard to imagine why she wouldn’t wish to be, however; she was every bit the beauty that Zahara herself was, with an easy smile, piercing eyes and hair tinged with a magenta hue. What few pictures have been shared of the two together have shown far more than two lovely young women; it only takes one glance to see the depths of the friendship between them, one that has spanned well over a decade. If pressed, Farrah would respond that she was a private person and leave it at that.
She walks up to the magician, clad in a red dress of the same design as Zahara’s, camera grasped by the handle on her right while her left hand settles on her friend’s shoulder. Zahara instinctively reaches up to clasp that hand, giving it a squeeze. Farrah offers her dear friend a little smile, leaning down to get a look in the young woman’s eyes and, through that simple connection, get Zahara to look up.
”...just tell me that I’m worrying for nothing. Tell me that this is Zoey being her neurotic self, worrying over nothing, so I can heave this camera back up and get a good look at her telling Constance Chapin to shine that title up for her.”
”You know I can’t lie, Farrah.”
The exhale is audible and at the very sound, Zahara’s head lowers again. Farrah, setting the camera carefully on the floor of the deck, rises back to full height and sets both her hands on the magician’s shoulders. When Zahara doesn’t look up, Farrah makes her do so with a few fingertips lifting her by the chin.
”That’s not the Zoey I grew up with talking.”
”You’re right…”
Lifting her hands to rub at her eyes a little, then bringing them down and pressing her palms together before her lips, Zahara continues quietly.
”...it’s the Zoey who is only just now, after eight months, realizing what she’s gotten herself into.”
”Don’t tell me you’re considering quit-”
”No… no! Absolutely not! I’ve never quit anything in my life and I'm darn sure not starting now!”
The very thought brought a flash of anger from Zoey, taking her from an expression of concern to one of surprisingly forceful anger and then a near-immediate change into an apologetic state.
”I’m… I’m sorry, Farrah. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
”No, don’t be sorry. That just proves to me that the passion is still there. I think maybe I’m starting to see where you’re coming from, though.”
”You do?”
Farrah nods once, taking a couple steps back and crouching down to retrieve her camera. It stays hanging by the handle in her grip for a moment as she observes Zahara in brief silence.
”Katalina loves you and so do the other girls here. Stacy, Katie, Zelda, Kelsey… they’re your friends and they all care deeply, too. They’re all telling you the same thing, aren’t they? That you’ve got this, that you can handle whatever is thrown at you and that they’ve got your back and all that stuff, right?”
”Well… yeah, pretty much. They’ve been as supportive as they can be considering their own situations.”
Shaking her head, Farrah brings the camera up onto her shoulder and situates it, briefly hiding the severity of her expression from Zahara. Angry wouldn’t be the proper word for it, nor would intense or frustrated. Farrah’s jaw was clearly set and her stare could have withered a flower and the vine it had bloomed from.
”Yeah, well, they don’t see you or know you like I do.”
Her voice has snap behind it and Zahara looks up at Farrah with concern. Meeting her friend’s eyes, however, startles the young rookie… almost enough to make her take a step back.
”We’ve been friends for half our lives, Zoey. There ain’t a damn thing you can hide from me.”
”Farrah…”
”Hush! Just… don’t talk for a damn minute!”
A bit of lip-chewing is Zoey’s only response as Farrah continues.
”I love you with all my heart. You know this. Back in the day, all we had was each other when other people would rather ditch us. When you asked me to come with you on this journey of yours, I did it without a second thought and I haven’t regretted it for a moment. But for the last month or more I’ve watched you go from being a confident, driven woman who had a smile and kind word for everyone to a stressed-out, beaten-up shell who’s trying to be everything to everyone instead of taking a damn minute to remember who the hell she is once in awhile!
Your friends are my friends by and large, Zo. You attract amazing people the way flowers draw bees, something I’ve always been envious of where you’re concerned. But these friends, perhaps even Katalina to an extent, are becoming a distraction. Their problems become your problems, which isn’t what they or you need. Then there’s how you’re beating yourself up for every mistake and literally getting yourself beat up and calling it training. I swear, if that Catherine bitch gives me the evil eye one more goddamn time I’m going to tear her eyes OUT! You mind telling me exactly how you’re supposed to compete against Constance when you’re a walking goddamn bruise?!
And then… THEN… you continue to keep sticking your neck out for these people, shoving your nose into issues that aren’t yours to mess with! Do you WANT people like Saint City or the Orphanage breathing down your damn neck when you’re trying to move up the card and become a champion? I don’t freakin’ think so, girlfriend! Kelsey and the rest? They’re big girls, Zoey! Older and more experienced at wrestling AND life than you are! They can clean their own damn toilet! I swear… if I didn’t love you so much I’d throttle you right now...”
Running out of breath, or perhaps anger, Farrah finally trails off. Through the entire tirade, Zoey had been hugging the hell out of herself until finger imprints were dug into the taut flesh of her bruised arms. Eyes closed and body trembling like a leaf in the breeze, the Enchanting One looked like she was on the edge of a good, long cry. Her anger forgotten once she remembered to breathe, Farrah takes a step toward Zoey but the magician’s hand lashes out, into the air but not upon Farrah, and halts her in her tracks. For a split-second, fear washes over the camerawoman’s face as she witnesses Zoey’s hand clench into a tight, white-knuckled fist.
Then… her fingers loosen and her arm drops limp at her side. A shuddering breath is drawn in and released prior to Zoey lifting her head to stare through oddly-shining eyes at her longtime friend. They avert toward the camera and Zahara inclines her chin slightly, speaking in a strained whisper.
”Fire it up.”
Farrah doesn’t ask why or question Zahara on her request. She simply does as she’s asked, taking several steps back to get a proper view of the challenger for the Xcel Championship at Fate of the Gods II. We’re back to where we began this moment, with Zoey standing before the back door to Katalina Star’s Malibu home, gazing at the camera. And she’s… well, she’s smiling. Just a little bit, but a small smile from Zoey Anne Madigan is the morning sun on a dew-kissed rose. Even with those pained eyes lingering over it.
”I’m starting this off with an apology, Constance, which isn’t what you deserve. What you deserve is everything that I gave you at Nothing Else Matters on top of awesome to the rad power multiplied by superfly. What you deserve...”
The Magical Maiden begins to walk forward as the camera backs up at the same pace to compensate.
”...is for me to stroll down to that ring in St. Paul on the biggest show in VoW’s history and put you through physical hell until you can’t stand up anymore. You deserve, Constance Chapin, to have to be carried to the locker room by your fiancee, ten pounds lighter than you arrived, looking over your shoulders at the ring to see me standing on the turnbuckles with that Xcel Championship held up high! With the lights reflecting off the gold as every single fan in that arena is on their feet, clapping and cheering for two of the most talented women in the business today! With everyone on the card after us knowing that the show is officially stolen because we rule the night every time we step between those ropes! With OUR names mentioned in the same breath as people like Casanova English, Ryder Blade and Ziu Zhong!
You deserve ALL of that because you are Constance by-God Chapin! A woman, a champion, of your caliber has every right to demand the absolute best from your opponents every time you step in that ring! And at my very best? I KNOW that I can beat you, either one-two-three or tappity-tap-tap in the middle of that squared circle, and walk out of Minnesota as the seventh Xcel Champion in this company’s two-year history! My friend, my sister-of-the-road, my heroine of ring and ropes… you deserve all that and SO much more! Which...”
It wasn’t a walk so much as a march now, with Zahara striding forward along the deck, down the steps and onto the sand as she stared hard into the camera. Her smile tightened if such a thing is possible, not in the sense that the expression became forced but more in the sense that Zahara was truly ‘feeling it’.
Then, two steps onto the sand, Zahara stops in her tracks abruptly… enough so that Farrah took an extra step back and had to quickly right the camera to keep proper focus, resulting in a brief shaking of the frame. Down here, under the steadily-growing glare of the moonlight in the darkening sky, Zoey took that defensive posture and her smile evaporated.
”...is why I have to apologize.”
Backing up a pace, Zahara sits on the bottom step and leans forward. Deft fingers draw the hem of her purple dress, with white flowers on it like the one in her hair, so that she can unlace one of her sandals. The leather thong winds up her calf to a few inches below her knee, so it’s a process. Her eyes are on this superfluous
”Because I can’t give you what you deserve.”
The strands fall looser with every turn until Zahara is drawing the sandal from her right foot and setting it aside. A silver ring twinkles on her second toe, caught by the lunar glow.
”For the last several weeks, I’ve been getting the hell beaten out of me on a regular basis by a true sweetheart woman by the name of Catherine…”
There’s good-natured sarcasm around the words ‘true sweetheart’, though not enough to manifest another smile for the magician. Her hands move to her left sandal, unlacing it with the same meticulous care offered to the right.
”...in an effort to expand not only my repertoire but also my endurance and stamina. You could no doubt see some of the lingering effects when you came up to me at Breakthrough 46, because even after a relatively smooth match with Elskerinne I still looked like a tomato that lost a fight with a flight of stairs. And by the way? Thank you for that, for coming up to me and offering wisdom like you did. Though right about now you’re feeling that your words fell on deaf ears, I assure you that they didn’t.
The fact is that everything I said while addressing my match with Elskerinne was exactly the truth. I’m not in this match because I earned it. I busted my tuchas for seven months and was granted an opportunity at you at Nothing Else Matters, where I still challenge anyone to tell us that we didn’t have the match of the show…”
She manages a small smile as she rises, gathering up her dark hair and draping it over her right shoulder in front. Hands return behind her neck where a pretty seashell brooch is fastened, undoing the bow that keeps her purple dress properly around her toned body.
”...which I failed to make the most of. I’ve made peace with that, partially in thanks to your kind words. But winning two matches and having a month off, more or less, after that? Not the same. Everyone, you included, knows that I’m a fill-in at Fate of the Gods II. I’m honored just to be booked on the show, so let’s get that out of the way first. I’m grateful for the opportunity. But I don’t deserve it. And you deserve better.
It’s called being realistic. I was brought into this business being taught that you earn what you want because any other means of acquisition means less than nothing. Vincenzo called it ‘purity of pride’. He had a… flair for the dramatic sometimes.”
Letting the dress pool at her feet, revealing the white-trimmed purple of a form-fitting bathing suit, Zahara stepped from the pile of cotton and further out onto the sand. It still bore warmth from the hot day prior, with the magician visibly enjoying that sensation as she continued on across the sand toward where the waves lapped at the shore.
”Look…”
Stopping in her tracks, Zahara clasps her hands behind her back and turns her gaze downward. She digs her toes into the sand a little, looking for something… anything… to focus on other than negativity.
”...as childish as this must sound to you and everyone else watching, I’m being honest. There’s nothing but honesty with me, something most people aren’t used to yet for some reason. The thing with honesty, though, is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts the person telling the truth more than it does the person to whom the truth is being offered.”
Knowingly, Zahara looks past the camera for a moment, smiling faintly, then gazing down at her sand-covered toes again.
”My confidence is still kinda cracked but I have enough to walk to that ring next week and give people a reason to scream. I can stretch you, Constance… I can make you scream like no one in GPW or anyone else ever could, powerhouses like Gaia included. I can beat you like a game of Whack-A-Mole and throw you around like Skee Balls for half an hour or more while the masses yell at us for more, more, more!
But can I defeat you? No.
All those hours of hard work in the gym and the cage, having myself turned into a well-bruised pretzel while nasty things were screamed in my face? They made me tougher. People like Kincaid, Robinson and some of the other big-bads in VoW… they don’t worry me as much now because of that. Perpetual soreness be darned, but thanks to all those Catherine-delivered beatings I know now that I can take whatever they dish out. And whatever you dish out, too.
But can I outlast you? Again, no.”
Digging her right foot out of the sand, she shakes the granules off and wiggles her toes, gazing down at the little silver ring as though just happy to have something to stare at other than the camera. Yet, her attention still goes back to it. She has no other choice.
”I’m not giving up before the fight even starts. I’m accepting my lot. It isn’t just a matter of not having earned the match, either. It’s simply not being ready. There’s more to learn in a loss than there is in ten wins, which oddly enough exemplifies my win-loss record right now…”
Ah, another taste of that sweet smile, albeit a brief one...
”...and our match at Nothing Else Matters taught me volumes, more than I’ve had time to assimilate since then. Really, I can do no other than take the blame because as my friend was so kind as to point out, I’ve let myself get dragged down by drama backstage, on Twitter and seemingly everywhere else as of late. More mental and emotional effort has been put into helping the people I care about get through their own issues than has been given to steeling myself for Fate of the Gods II. Again, that’s on me.”
Ambling forward again, Zahara comes to a point where she’s standing on the wetter, darker sand. The waves lap at her toes and leave imprints where she’s standing when the salty, foamy water is drawn back out.
”The friends thing is still new to me. Pretty sure I’ve told that sad tale before. Before VoW, it was me and Farrah… no one else. All these wonderful people have come into my life since my debut and given my life new meaning. The problem is that I’m so intent on keeping them happy and cared for that I end up sacrificing myself to do so for fear of losing them the way I lost so many in the past. Which, again, you know the story, Constance. I’m sorry to bring it up again like a broken record.
When you toss that in the bowl with the way I just dove into the business at the first opportunity after Drake’s passing and getting out of training… I kinda set myself up for this. Vincenzo, he told us all about how vicious the traveling could be, about how people often left the business with nothing to show for it except injuries and memories… we’ve all heard the tales AND seen the results in action. But no amount of long talks or bumps can prepare you for the mental and emotional effects. The cutthroat tactics, the backstabbing, the politics… there’s precious little of that in VoW, thankfully. At least until you hook up to the internet. People like Winter Pine proved that there’s really not a limit on how far people will sink to get what they want without regard for who it hurts.”
Just saying the name turns Zahara’s tone dark, though she pulls herself out of the angry quagmire while she still has a grip on herself.
”But my biggest issue, what I think stands above everything else, is that I always assumed that Drake would be with me when I started wrestling. It’s only recently that I realized, mentally, I’ve been constantly looking over my shoulder for him only to realize that he’s not there. In spirit, sure, but I guess…”
Zahara sniffs slightly but no tears come forth. She stares into the camera, determined to use her focus to keep her emotions from welling up too hard.
”...I’m not as grown up as I’d like to be. But that’s why people like you exist, Constance. You may get hell for your attitude and perspective, but there’s no one better for inspiration and an example of how to succeed. Come Fate of the Gods II, I’m going to do my utmost to relearn those lessons, to drive them into my heart and mind so deeply that I never forget them.”
Another deep breath settles the young magician, and she reaches up to her ear to take down the white flower, cupping it gently in her hand. She lifts it, drawing in the sweet scent and finding solace in its filling of her senses.
”As much as I want it to be otherwise, you’re going to walk out of that ring and up the ramp with the title once again. And I’m going to pull myself up and join our amazing fans in applauding you like a champion of your talent deserves. That will be my victory. You’re gonna hurt for days, though. Emily will be thanking me on Twitter, profusely in fact, for giving her the opportunity to nurse you back to fighting trim. And I’ll be sure the flowers arrive at just such a time, pretty get well card included, that everyone sees. You got my word on that, Miss Chapin.”
With a shake of her head, Zahara finds her smile, wherever it had been hiding, and put it back in place.
”Doesn’t sound all that worth it, I know, but when you see that title sitting on the dresser across from the bed, it will be.”
Turning on her heel, the magician pads back to where she left her dress and sandals. Dropping to a knee, she carefully places the flower within the folds of the former, ensuring that it isn’t damaged or blown away by an errant Pacific breeze. Satisfied, she rose and spun about, once more facing the mighty ocean. The freeness of her motion was notable; weightless and airy. The first time since the camera cut back on that she moved in such a fashion.
”Still gonna try, though, before people go hooting that the Magical Maiden is giving up. I NEVER quit and NEVER give up, even if I have no chance in my mind to win. That, unlike so many other things that you deserve, is something I feel confident in my ability to offer. You will get the very best that I’m capable of putting forth, my friend. You have my sincere word on that. Who knows… maybe Fate will cast her gaze on me and Lady Luck will turn her head and toss her dice… because it would darn sure take divine intervention or more to make a liar out of me!"
She gives the camera a little wink.
"And as for our fans? They, as well, have my sincere word... my word that they’ll be seeing the show of a lifetime… AT the show of a lifetime!”
The camera follows, then, as Zahara strides back toward the ocean, this time without stopping. She dives into one of the crashing waves and comes up beyond it, bursting through the surface of the water artfully. There’s a happiness and a certain amount of relief in her motions now. Still behind the camera, Farrah speaks quietly but not so much so that the camera doesn’t pick up her comment.
”I shouldn’t have yelled at her… I’m sorry, Zoey.”
A yell from over a wave sounds off before the thought is finished.
”Hey! Camera down, dress off, butt in water, woman! Hop to it!”
Imagining a smile on Farrah’s face isn’t hard; accepting and understanding if a bit downtrodden. The scene fades to black as she lowers the camera, one last glimpse of Zahara among the waves before the scene ends.
