Alicia Goon 023: Aftermath

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Descriptions of injuries

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As miracles go, it had been one of the more exceptional Alicia had experienced: no sign of a concussion, and, despite multiple severe contusions, nothing in her hand was dislocated or broken. Other than the ER doc being a Reinforcements fan--and the savage post-match beatdown and the hallway ambush--the night couldn’t have gone better. It was the first cause for celebration Alicia could remember in over a year. She threw open the massive, wooden vault door and hurried in out of the cold.

"ID?" asked the bouncer seated on a barstool next to a space heater. The professional indifference vanished from the tall, heavy-set man’s face as he noticed her bruises and heavily bandaged right hand.  "Shit, are you alright?" 

Alicia reached into her purse with her good hand and presented her license. "Barely hurts at all."

"Last call is in like 45 minutes, by the way," called the bouncer behind her.

Alicia weaved between tables and traffic on her way to the bar. There was Robert behind the counter, pouring a Willow's from the tap for a customer. As he turned to hand the patron their pint, his expression turned from neutral to recognition to joy in a heartbeat. 

"ALICIA! I WATCHED IT ALL FROM HERE! HOLY SHIT! OH MY GOD TH- sir, I am so sorry." 

The redheaded man who at least dressed like a trucker bristled at having been caught with more than a spritz of his own beverage. 

"I'm so sorry. Seriously, that wasn't on purpose," stammered “I’ll wipe out your entire tab tonight, sir. Robert as he reeled off several arm-lengths of paper towel. He checked behind the bar for anyone in earshot before leaning close and whispering, This time, your drink's on me!" Remorse instantly swallowed the blooming smile as he saw the possible trucker’s scowl. "Sorry. Bad joke." He turned and poured the lightly drenched customer a new drink. "Uh, here." 

With a nervous hand, Robert fumbled for his right pocket and withdrew a wallet crowded with twenty-dollar bills. He withdrew one and extended the peace offering to the literally sloshed patron, who took his topped-off drink, snatched the bribe, and left with a sneer.  

Alicia's eyes popped open as she gave Robert an exaggerated-but-just-barely grin and let out a jubilant little scream.

"Alicia, you did amazing! That was so awesome! Holy shit!" shouted Robert as he abandoned his post and rushed around the bar to meet her, but caught himself when he went for the high-five. "Oh wow. Sorry. How’s the hand?"

"People keep asking, so it must not be good," said Alicia, presenting her bandaged right hand and pulling back her sleeve. She followed Robert to the bar and sat down beside a pair of college-aged women waiting to be served. "No breaks or anything, thank goodness. Doc said it'll probably be a while before it's 100%. Could be weeks, maybe more."

Robert's jaw fell, as did his mood. "Weeks?! Didn't they say you and that other lady are going up against the team that attacked you next week? Are you going to be alright? I don't want you to get hurt."

Alicia felt genuinely touched at the sentiment. "That’s really sweet, but I’ll be fine. You don’t know this, but my partner’s like a four-time world champion. Worry for our opponents."

A voice a few feet to her left interrupted, "Alicia?" 

It wasn’t a voice she recognized. Nor did she recognize either of the twentysomething women when she turned to look. It didn’t matter; they didn’t know her, either. The moment Alicia turned around, the mystery women’s eyes lit up, and their sandy complexions froze in amazement.

The shorter of the pair turned to her friend and shouted, "I told you!" She seemed to read Alicia’s panicked expression and remembered her indoor voice. "You're The Goon! Holy shit, I've never met a wrestler in person before. Can we buy you a drink? I'm Kara, by the way," said the shorter of the two with the long black hair. "That's Megan." Polite little wave.

The taller friend, Megan, leaned over to get a clearer lane into the conversation. "We were at the show tonight! That was hilarious when you threw the roll of coins."

Alicia also hadn't considered the possibility of being recognized in public before immediately realizing that the chance meeting with Jim should've been a tip-off. Tonight, though, she didn't mind being seen. 

"Yeah! Oh my gosh, thank you! That's so cool of you. Thank you! Thank you for coming out tonight! Um, from all of us." Alicia recalled the original question, still starstruck by her own fans, "Sorry, yeah, thank you. That's so nice of you! Are you sure?" And then she recalled herself. "Oh. I, uh, don't… drink."

A harrowing pause sidled up between them. "This is a bar," Megan explained.

The wrestler performed a reversal. "What do you like? You two?"

"We were going to get a pitcher of Chicago's Finest for the table," answered Megan, seizing upon the eavesdropping bartender's attention. It took a second, but Robert got the hint, visibly shuddering at their selection before he started pouring.

"Okay. I'll get that. For them. If it's alright," said Alicia, reaching into her wallet for a few bills and waving off the change.

Megan and Kara looked caught off-guard as they received their order. "Really? Wow! I mean, um, thanks!" said Megan, taking the pitcher with a grateful smile. "Good luck on the match next week. Well, not-" With a troubled look, she pulled open her puffy, sleeveless white coat to reveal a camo T-shirt with all three squad members silhouetted against the words "The Reinforcements" in bullet-riddled gun-metal gray. "We're actually big Reinforcements fans, but we hope you don't wind up seriously injured." 

Kara nodded in uncomfortable agreement, pulling open her coat to reveal an identical shirt in black. A non-apologetic apologetic look crossed their faces as the two women turned and strolled to the room with the ski mask wall, pitcher in hand.

It took a moment for Alicia to find her voice. She turned to Robert across the bar who could only just barely hold back laughter. "You should be seriously worried for our opponents next week."

* * * * *

The instant the door swung open and Alicia saw Maxine's eyes snap to her bandaged hand, she braced herself for a rough day.

"Miss Alicia, are you alright?" asked Maxine. 

At least the moonlighting wrestler’s face wasn’t that mangled. Comparatively speaking. She had been able to mostly conceal the bruising on her forehead with some clever makeup and a scarf worn like a bandana around her forehead, holding back her long, loose raven curls, but she couldn’t hide the hand. Purple made some friends overnight, although Alicia hadn’t gotten around to naming those new colors yet. At best, the compression bandage around her wrist and hand would minimize the swelling and hide most of the hideous bruising. She had done poor job of wrapping her injured hand. Anyone looking closely would see the severity of the injury. She was counting on it. It was the same reason she hadn’t cut off her ER wristband yet.

"Doll, what happened to your hand? How bad is it?" 

Almost instinctively, Alicia tucked the injured limb close to her body in response to the sudden attention. Every Monday following a match, the explanations got trickier. At least Maxine knew where the bruises came from, which allowed Alicia to ease into the cold water.

"Morning, Miss Maxine. Nothing's broken, but it's not great," she said, finding the key for the reception door on her keychain and letting herself in. Alicia removed her coat and tossed it onto her chair back. "She got me good. She took a- you know what? It's better you don't hear how it happened. Is Dr. Pupe around?" Her work nana's eyes softened as her expression scrunched into a bad-news face. Alicia sighed. "Dagnabbit."

Maxine stood up from her chair and locked the reception door. "Somebody canceled at the last minute."

Alicia cringed and called back, "Gosh darn it. I'm so sorry about the door. You really don't have to keep getting up to lock it for me. Please. I should do it." Breathe in, breathe out. She stepped into the break room and into the path of two pairs of staring eyeballs.

The hygienist was quicker on the draw. "Are you alright?!" 

But the dentist wanted it more. "Alicia, what happened?"

Chronological order, then. "I'll be alright, but I'm going to be severely limited in my duties over the next week or so," said Alicia. She turned to her boss and held up her loosely bandaged and visibly bruised right hand. "You know I wouldn't ask unless I really didn't have a choice, but I think you're going to have to do the slide deck for your presentation at the Friends of Teeth conference this year." 

Dr. Pupe's face fell. Alicia didn't need a camera. This moment was enough. She flipped her injured hand in a what-can-you-do gesture. Alicia reached into her purse with her good hand and withdrew an official-looking hospital printout. "Minimal activity for at least seven days, then light duties as tolerated. See?"

The man with hair of obsidian and a mustache of limestone squinted his eyes performatively at the document. Or maybe not. Did he ever end up going to the eye doctor?  

"You can't work a mouse?"

Alicia shook her head. 

"Can't type?"

Another no.

"That's your writing hand?"

And a nod.

"What can you do?"

Alicia shrugged her shoulders, "I suppose just my job description."

"Well, that's great! I might as well hire you an assistant," Dr. Pupe grumbled, throwing up his hands as he stormed out into the hall.

Back to the other set of concerned eyes. Alicia bit her lip as she extracted herself from one uncomfortable conversation and right into another. She sighed and dropped off her lunch in the fridge. "Thank you for your concern. Honestly, that's really thoughtful. I promise there’s a good explanation, and I promise I will tell you, okay?" 

Sherry took a moment to consider the IOU. "If you promise that you're really, truly okay, and that you'll tell Maxine or me or somebody if you need help, then I can wait," said the hygienist with hair as big as life. "It looks like quite a story." 

"Yeah," admitted the secret wrestler. She returned to her seat behind the reception desk and sat in silence, content to let Miss Maxine work her way through the outgoing mail. Alicia didn't want to talk, anyway. 

Yes, she did. 

"I'm really worried next week is going to be my final match," Alicia confessed to herself and Maxine. "After that, they decide if they want to sign me or not. I think they're going to cut me. I don't want to wash out. I'm really scared I'm going to fail."

Maxine turned in her chair to face Alicia. "You haven't. Honey, you wanted to do something incredibly tough, you stuck it out, and you saw it through. No matter what happens, you deserve to feel proud of what you've done." She scooted forward on her office chair to reach out and grip the young woman by her sore bicep, "Now that I've said that, I want you to go out there in your last match and you give them hell and feed them their teeth!"

"Miss Maxine!" Alicia gasped.

"You know, I had a few scraps when I was young," the septuagenarian bragged with a smirk. "I didn't always get along in school."

Alicia grinned as she sized up her colleague, looking her up and down with a fresh set of eyes. "Okay! I can see the fighter now. I didn't see it until I knew to look for it, but now that I do, there it is." She reached for a patient clipboard as the door opened and a mother and her teenage son stepped into the lobby, both red in the face and puffing steam. "Did you win?"

Maxine flashed a knowing little smile. "Wish I'd known you then, Miss Alicia. You and me? We'd have taken on the world."