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Alicia tried to relax. She had prepared for this showdown, but now, in the moment, faced with having to follow through, anxiety threatened to overwhelm her willpower. Breathe in, breathe out. She hadn’t come this far to give up now. "Dr. Pupe, can I have next Friday off, please?"
Alicia impressed herself with her bravery, despite having attacked from behind. The dentist's slow, deliberate about-face was either a power play or an attempt at one. After far too long, Alicia saw her boss's expression, and she didn't like the look of those creases.
"Why do you need next Friday off?" he asked, deadpan. Sip.
Alicia furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you allowed to ask me that?"
"I don't know. Do you?" asked Dr. Pupe. Alicia shook her head. "Yes, I'm allowed. Why do you need Friday?"
This time she fought back her exasperation. "Personal."
The doctor opened his mouth, then hesitated. His scrunched-up expression suggested he didn't want to roll the dice on "personal" actually being too personal. "Sherry's taking the afternoon off that day. I'm going to be short-staffed."
"Sherry is a hygienist!" said Alicia, raising her voice precisely two decibels.
Dr. Pupe cocked his head and put his non-coffee fist on his hip in a pantomime of indignation. "We have a quorum!"
Two decibels more. "Our jobs aren't the same!"
"Stay for the morning."
Alicia's eyes widened just enough to be noticeable. Gradually, she would express the full extent of her anger, like tunneling through prison walls made of decorum. "Then me and Sherry would still both be leaving in the afternoon! Please. Please let me take the day."
The right corner of Dr. Pupe's mouth lifted behind a curtain of black and gray. The office and billing assistant didn't like it. That was the look of a man about to play his trump card.
"Okay, how's this: if I go outside right now and the fern is hanging in the window, you can take the day off. Deal?"
Alicia froze in place, unblinking. "Look, it's really important to me." Another two decibels couldn't hurt.
"You know we have a two-week policy for all vacation requests," said her boss. "That's two full weeks of notice per day requested off. You're giving me one week notice, so you can take a half-day off. That's more than fair."
It was good enough, or at least it would have to be. Alicia was certain she'd be a bundle of nerves from the moment her head hit the pillow the night before the match.
"Come on," said Dr. Pupe. "I'll sign the request form right now. A half-day's good. And I hope your personal thing goes well. Really."
The two walked to the front to find Maxine tapping away at a stack of invoices. She was breathing heavier than usual and seemed to be sweating. Alicia bent down to check on her. "Are you alright, Miss Maxine?"
"I'm fine. Just having a hot flash," said Maxine dismissively.
Alicia could see her shoot a glance out of the corner of her eye to enjoy the dentist's uncomfortable reaction. Dr. Pupe handed Alicia a vacation request form and pen. The doctor had already scribbled his sixth-grade cursive at the bottom. Before Alicia could look away, her desk-mate indicated the window by the front entrance with her eyes. Alicia turned. There it was: the most beautiful, hideous, sickly, sunlight-blocking botanical abomination she had ever laid eyes on, hanging obnoxiously in the window like an angel.
"Uh, Dr. Pupe," said Alicia, suddenly losing that careful volume control. "Fern!"
Dr. Pupe looked towards the entrance, realized what he saw, and stared. He looked like his car just got flattened by a steamroller. Alicia wished she could bottle that moment of defeat and keep it in a little trophy case until she was old and gray, so on her deathbed she could hold it to her trembling lips, sip its nectar, and live a hundred more years feeling this good.
"So I'll just fill it out for the full day, then?" asked Alicia.
Incredulity. Utter incredulity. "Yeah, full day's fine," he mumbled under his breath, retreating to the break room.
Alicia placed the sheet in the "vacation requests" tray and sat at her desk. "Thanks, Miss Maxine."
"You're lucky," said the 33-year veteran of the practice. "I only just barely heard you two talking from out here."
Time for the second feat of bravery. Alicia piped up, "You know how I said I went to that pro wrestling show?"
The stack of invoices on Maxine's desk beckoned her back to her keyboard. "Back in the spring? Mm-hmm, I remember. Thinking about going again?" she asked.
The secret wrestler couldn't help but snicker. "I'll definitely be going again soon." And here came the test of nerves, "Because I sort of, um, am one."
Maxine gave the conversation her attention as she keyed in the next invoice; just not all of it. The septuagenarian didn't grasp the implication while asking the obvious follow-up question, "You're a what, sweetie?"
Alicia popped up from behind her desk and scanned the surrounding office and waiting area for anyone within earshot. She wanted to get it all out at once, both for herself and to avoid any corners being dramatically rounded. Alicia lowered her voice to a whisper, "I am a pro wrestler. I've got my first match next week, and I'm really scared nobody's going to cheer for me. I don't want to be out there all alone. Would you please come and support me from the stands?"
Now the conversation had Maxine's full attention. She turned in her chair and looked at Alicia. It took a moment to process the new information. "Uh," she said.
"You don't have to," said Alicia, shaking her head. "And if you don't want to, it doesn't hurt my feelings. It gets violent."
"Well," stammered her coworker. "Okay, hon. What time does it start?"
Alicia couldn't contain her ear-to-ear grin. "Thank you!" She stood up from her chair to give her work nana a gentle hug. "Seriously, thank you so much Miss Maxine. You're the best. I'll have them save you a ticket, okay? Plunj Arena. 6:30 PM for my match. Ignore the signs saying 7:00. I'm on the pre-show."
* * * * *
Sabrina gave Alicia a hard slap on the shoulder and pulled the much taller woman closer for a half-hug as they strode towards the locker room. Alicia and her mentor caught each other's eyes for a moment. She didn't know what to make of the veteran's uncharacteristic stoicism.
Sabrina broke the silence. "I know you're going to be full of nervous energy. You might feel like it would help to work off some of that energy. Don't do it. Light workout. You're just getting loose, okay?" Alicia nodded. "Hey. You're going to do great. I trained you," she said, backhanding her student's arm to deliver a literal punchline.
The red, cage-style lockers reminded Alicia of high school, except those were blue. Only a few scratches had found their way onto the paint. The interior was one of the more neutral-smelling Alicia had come across. Best of all, it hadn’t been broken into. Now it was time to pack it all up. She was going to miss calling this place home. It dawned on her this might be the last time she saw Number 9. She scanned the door and interior, as if trying to memorize it. She spotted a sticker depicting the now-retired La Matadora stuck to the back. Alicia reached in and peeled the sticker off, trying to keep it as intact as possible, and slipped her decent effort into an empty side pocket of her gym bag.
Alicia had five matches on her provisional contract and 60 days to have them. In the end, her future with the promotion would come down to a pass or fail grade: either get signed to the company or wash out. According to Sabrina, the number of wins barely weighed into the decision; just the marketability and potential shown in those five matches.
Discussion between Alicia and Sabrina in the locker room had been mostly words of encouragement, only occasionally veering into discussion of strategy. They had kept it light throughout. Crucially, they hadn't wandered into the topic that had burdened the debuting rookie's every thought about the fight to come. Alicia stood at the front entrance, about to exchange see-you-tomorrows with the woman who taught her everything. This was Alicia's last chance to ask. She refused to let another running shoes vs. lifting shoes kerfuffle happen.
"What if I lose?" muttered Alicia, barely audible.
Sabrina shut down the conversation, "Don't go into a match thinking about losing, alright? From now until the final bell tomorrow, the only thing I want you thinking about Connie Rocket is all of the ways you can beat her." Her scarred lips drew up in a smug little smile. "That'll keep you busy a while."
* * * * *
Alicia saw the lights on in the nice side of the house from the street. Robert was home. For once, she enjoyed a safe, well lit walk to the door in the enclosed front porch. Pity it wasn’t hers. She stood at the door holding a box wrapped in candy cane-patterned gift wrap topped with a red bow. She pressed the doorbell and heard a chime that was overlong and entirely too much. Seconds passed. Several seconds. Hurry up, Robert. It's flipping freezing out. There was a shuffle of tennis shoes and the turn of a deadbolt. The door opened.
"Alicia?" Robert stood in the entryway looking confused and scruffy. "Um, merry Christmas. It's freezing, come in. What's up?"
"Merry Christmas! I'm fighting somebody tomorrow," said Alicia, handing him a box with audibly shifting contents. Cake Frosting Mondoz had been tough to track down, but Garagesale.net was, unbeknownst to her, the premier internet auction site for purchasing secondhand discontinued breakfast cereal. It was nice to drop someone else's jaw for a change.
"Alicia, thank you. I- I didn't get you anything. I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm sorry. And thank you." It took a moment, but her housemate recovered. "And you've got a match? That's awesome! I've got work tomorrow night, or else I would be there. Do you know who you're fighting? I mean, I won't know who you're talking about, but tell me her name anyway!"
"Connie Rocket," Alicia answered. "She's only been at it a little over a year, but she's good. I mean, at least she can hang."
"Are you scared?" he asked. That certainly got personal quick.
Alicia answered honestly, "Not even a little. Let me tell you how I'm going to beat her. How much time you got?"
"I'm not going anywhere," said Robert, waving her in. "Come on in out of the cold. Is it alright if I unwrap this?"
"Only if you promise not to share," she said with a grin. Even though her host hadn't, she slipped off her shoes. "So, have you ever heard of a meniscus?"
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