Alicia Goon 036: Obligations

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Descriptions of injuries

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According to the dashboard clock, Robert broke the silence approximately four minutes after leaving the Plunj Drain Cleaner Arena, "I have a lot of questions."

Despite the climate controlled cabin, Alicia hadn't stopped shivering. With evident exhaustion in her face, eyes, and voice, the ichor-soaked passenger turned to him and responded, "Not tonight. There's too much to tell." She wondered what state her spider pudding buffet of a sweatshirt was in right now. Whatever condition, Black Violet was welcome to keep it. Alicia would see it plenty in her nightmares, anyway.

Too much had happened all at once. Twelve hours ago, she was at the Party Girl compound watching one of Party Girl's li'l dreamerz, with a zed, take a sledgehammer to an insufficiently cherry red convertible. Since then, she had been thrown through office equipment, had a tooth kicked down her throat, been bitten twice by her stalker, gotten lost in a pitch-black maintenance crawlspace, located two different booby-traps near her home, and borrowed a cat.

Robert seemed to understand and nodded. "Just a few questions, then." 

Alicia bristled at the pushback. Her first instinct compelled her to shoot her housemate a look of anger. Robert had no idea what she endured, and Alicia didn't owe anyone a debrief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw fidgeting hands on the wheel. She turned to get a better look. Wide eyes, shallow breaths. All of this did affect him, too. Breathe in, breathe out. "Just the most important ones. Please. I'm so done."

A guilty look crossed her best friend's unshaven face. "I'll keep it to two. We'll get to the rest someday. Most important: Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"More important," she corrected. "You would use the comparative since it's just two questions."

"The superlative form is actually right in this case. I was comparing that question's importance to the aforementioned 'lot of questions,'" counter-corrected Robert. Alicia smiled and nodded; it was an unforced error, but she was still ahead overall on points.

She looked herself over. With a sigh, the former hockey player had to admit she was out of her depth on this one. "Yeah, I think so."

Robert seemed genuinely shocked at the answer and took a moment to recalibrate, and then another moment to make the upcoming exit before asking, "Do you think it's safe to go back to the house?" 

The answer came in the form of a sad head-shake. "I wouldn't if you have a choice."

"Okay, so-" Robert froze as he chewed over that answer again. "Hold on. You shouldn't stay there, either!"

Alicia stepped on the startled driver's last word and sat up in her seat. "I need to test something. The woman stalking me is a wrestler named Black Violet. She chose me because-" said Alicia before she caught herself. "She just decided she didn't like me. And since she picked me, she's not going to stop until I have a match with her. I really don't want to. I really, really don't want to. She injured Party Girl so bad she was out for two months following their match, and Party Girl's way better than me. And then there was tonight. You didn't see how angry she was. Black Violet would…" she paused for emphasis. The silence drew Robert's attention, and their eyes briefly met. "She would hurt me."

"Okay? So I'll rent a couple hotel rooms, you can board the cat, and then we figure out what to do next. My parents will understand," insisted Robert. "At least they'll understand whatever normal-sounding story I give them."

With a deep sigh, Alicia laid out her theory, "I just went into her place and attacked her in her home. Maybe it doesn't have to be a match. Maybe she'll stop haunting me because I stood up to her."

Robert looked unimpressed. "That sounds like what someone would say right before the monster got them."

"I know it's a longshot. I know it's a stupid idea, but it's the only idea I have, and I need it to work. It's not just my life or where I live; even if I move away, she lives in the arena," explained Alicia.

The driver looked back at Alicia with a look of bewilderment, and she really wished he'd watch the road more. Robert interrupted, "Hang on. She lives in-"

"Robert, I can't catch you up on everything; I need you to accept that sometimes I'm going to say something insane without an explanation, and you're just going to have to keep up," overruled Alicia. "So, what, I let her take away my home and what I love to do most? Some life. If it doesn't work, I'll figure something out." Alicia stared out the window at the passing billboards for buck draft night at Pennyfarthing's, the Crushingburg concert featuring The Dynawill Kid, and some upscale clothing store called Human Ingredients. The city lights of Beaver - such as they were - shared their glow for a moment as the luxury car drove past. Four years ago, she begged not to move to Illinois. Despite having every reason to move out of her forest-adjacent home in the good part of the bad part of Stokely, she refused to be driven out.

Silence once again settled upon the car. She flipped open her phone and powered it on. Maybe the battery had a few minutes left. Why does it spend so long on the logo screen? Can't wait until that improves. 4:02 AM. 2 text messages. Bee-doop.

Sun Feb 1, 2004

12:11 AM PARTY GIRL (370)167-5770
howz it goin

1:47 AM PARTY GIRL (370)167-5770
did u get her yt

Alicia couldn't summon the strength to roll her eyes, but the sentiment was there. Reply.

4:03 AM MY NEW PHONE (297)117-5084
Nothing went right but I set her on fire, No battery, will text you later.

She felt a little pang of guilt for not mentioning anything to Party Girl about her "presh" and flipped the phone open again. The screen immediately blinked out and refused to turn back on. No energy left. Same. "Can I ask if you can drive me somewhere on Sunday?" asked Alicia. Robert glanced over with a quick nod. "I've got some money burning a hole in my pocket."

* * * * *

The sunflower-yellow 2003 Zebop rolled to a refreshingly quiet stop between the lines of an employee parking spot, and out stepped the proud new owner. It seemed unfair that something else was going to take its spot as the day's top story. Through the unobstructed window, Alicia saw Maxine hard at work making the job look easy. 

Don't get jealous, be like Party Girl

Get like me, get like Party Girl

Another text message. Alicia swore she put it on mute. She swore she did several times last night before she finally turned her cellular phone off completely. The altitude must have been getting to Party Girl on the slopes because her texts yesterday night had gotten long and quite erratic.

Mon Feb 2, 2004 

8:11 AM PARTY GIRL (370)167-5770
ur bein stuipd shes not gonna stop until u face her 

8:25 AM Alicia's Phone (297)117-5084
There's no harm in just waiting to see what happens. You're not even here. You wanted me to handle it. Let me do this.

Power off. She liked it better as a makeshift flashlight than intrusive digital telepathy. Alicia pushed open the bizarrely residential door of Pupe's Full-Mouth Dentistry and stepped in out of the cold. Maxine saw her. Recognition, a smile, and horror. "Yeah, I couldn't really cover it with makeup," the battle-worn wrestler confessed. Maxine's hand rose to her mouth as she shook her head. At least she could hide the 8 stitches in her forehead with a nonstick bandage under a scarf and the 22 in her back under her sweater. The black eye, swollen nose, split lip, and the bandages on either side of her neck, on the other hand, weren't as easily hidden. The missing tooth wouldn't remain a secret for long, either. "You should see the other guys," chuckled Alicia before remembering her opponents walked away mostly looking fine afterwards. "You don't need to get up. I'm coming in."

Maxine had already stormed through the office door and into the reception area, worried eyes darting between Alicia's collection of bandages and wounds. "Good night! Honey, your- you're-"

"I'm fine," Alicia insisted. 

Maxine's brow furrowed with an unamused look. "I'm always there to support you, hon, but it's so hard seeing you after," said Maxine, taking her coworker's hand and guiding the young woman to her seat behind the reception desk. The older woman squinted as she surveyed the scraped, cut, and bruised landscape of Alicia's face and neck. "Let me get you some ice. Do you need anything?"

"Miss Maxine!" Alicia said, standing up from her seat. Raising her voice got Maxine's attention, and they looked at each other in silence. A faint smile crossed Alicia's lips. "Thank you. For everything. Ever since we met, you've been an angel to me," she said, embracing the smaller woman in her arms. "Thank you."

"Oh my God," honked Dr. Pupe from the doorway to the break room, aghast at the sight of his assistant's injuries. "Wha- no. Not again. Alicia, we need to talk."

The wrestler nodded in agreement and said, "We do. This is my two weeks. I…" Maxine's jaw dropped slightly. Alicia continued, "I don't think I work here anymore."

"Oh," he replied, caught off-guard. There was an uncomfortable pause while the doctor found some words, "We'll, um, miss you, of course. Maxine, can you start on her paperwork today?" The office manager nodded. 

Alicia couldn't read the doctor's expression. "If it's any consolation, you will hire someone better. I know I often didn't do the job well, but that's because I'm not very good at it," said Alicia, showing off the new gap in her smile. Dr. Pupe's double-take and a visible wince alone made Alicia want to send Tracey Roote a thank-you card.

"I actually came out to ask if you've seen my fern," said the dentist, trying to move the conversation along to more pressing matters. "I bought it last year for my mother's funeral."

The young woman froze in place, trying to act calm, natural, and unsuspicious, while also not blinking. "Oh. Is it gone?" she asked, casually darting her eyes toward the window without moving a muscle. "Wow, it is, yes. Hm." Moving your head up and down is the same thing as nodding, right?

The raven-haired, pigeon-mustached dentist shook his head, dejected. "I couldn't throw it out just because she made a full recovery. It cost eighteen dollars."

"Why didn't you just hang it up in your house?" asked Alicia, struggling not to look relieved.

Dr. Pupe answered matter-of-factly, "It blocks the light."

Breathe in, breathe out. She'd give him the grace of two more weeks as thanks for confirming she made the right decision. Alicia didn't want Pupe to think the same about her leaving. Was it wrong to want to feel missed? She answered with a shrug, "Sorry. Haven't seen it."

* * * * *

The Hard Times alumni pulled up to a thankfully Perletta-free parking lot. Dreadful cars. Oops. There was one. Sorry, I'm sure yours is very nice. Something else was missing. The sign. That awful, rusted metal plate by the Hard Times front entrance. The white-on-maroon eyesore had been replaced with bold, metallic red lettering on black. Dark black. It looked modern. Helene and Allen must have finally gotten their way. Up the six steps and through the door. Alicia greeted a familiar face behind the front desk with a polite little wave and a gap-toothed smile. "Minisha! Hey! Are you running the desk now?"

Across the desk, the trainer's rich, dark brown eyes lit up as bright as her smile, which both faded a little when she noticed the missing tooth. "Hey Alic- oh. You've changed."

"Yup. Finally, I'm a real hockey player," Alicia replied with a smile. "Up until now, I had just been playing hockey." And then indulged her curiosity, "Are you going to be taking over the front from now on?" 

The size of Minisha's smile told Alicia this was bigger. "Head trainer," said the head trainer. "Sab's watching me at first, but she's cool about it. Just between us: it was nice to feel recognized for putting in the work. I've been trying to move up for years."

"Oh my goodness! Congratulations! That's amazing! You're the perfect choice, Nish. You're going to make an awesome head trainer," said Alicia, then gestured toward the back office door. "I'm here to check in on Sab, but let's grab a drink sometime to celebrate!" 

"I know a great water fountain," said Minisha with a smirk. 

It occurred to Alicia she hadn't had much to celebrate since graduation--back when "celebration" was synonymous with "bar." She needed a new hang-out phrase. Maybe she could learn to like coffee. "Or dinner," said the former Hard Times student with a sheepish smile. "I just wanna hang out."

"Me too! Let's talk after."

Into the back, first door on the right. She tapped the door with the mostly-healed knuckle of her right index finger, eliciting a familiar voice and the usual reply, "It's open." There Alicia's former trainer sat, in that same old, leather office chair. "Hey! I was hoping you'd make it in today. Sit down. How ya been?"

Wait. That was her line. "Um- me? Good," replied Alicia. She didn't mind going first, "I have a question. What did Helene mean about champions getting to set up their own matches?"

The rugged former champion's scarred lips turned up in a lopsided smile, "Straight to business, huh? The rule is championship belts have to be defended at least once every 30 days, 45 in the case of an injury. but the champion always has the right to issue challenges more frequently if she wants, with whatever match type or stipulation she wants."

"All the belts have to be defended once every 30 days?" asked Alicia. Sabrina nodded. "What about the TV Championship? It's been nearly a year since Black Violet put the title up."

The confusion turned to incredulity as soon as Alicia mentioned the errant champion's name. "You have one match on your official record," scoffed Sabrina. "Quit thinking about titles. Think about what's going on here, now. You don't have to have your whole career all at once. And trust me, you don't want anything to do with Black Violet. Have you seen what she's capable of?" 

"Yeah," Alicia answered with a sad, knowing little nod. It was time for her real question, "But if a champion were to challenge me, I could say no, right?"

Incredulity became exasperation. "Alicia, why are- no, you wouldn't have to accept the title shot," Sabrina explained as Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. Half a sigh. She didn't like the "well, technically…" look forming on the veteran's face. "Well, technically, I guess since it's your first year and you're on an open contract, you would have to. But that's the only exception I can think of." Sabrina clearly didn't know what to make of the silence and filled it with snark. "Aren't you already getting a title shot thanks to your new friend?" asked Sabrina. Alicia didn't look pleased with the way her former trainer phrased that. "Sorry. It's just… you chose her?"

"It's more like she chose me," said Alicia with a timid smile.

"...And you said yes?"

The bruised and bandaged wrestler still wasn't up for being interrogated. "Hold on, hold on. I came here to check on you! Sabrina, are you alright?" asked Alicia.

The former wrestler looked herself over and checked her forehead temperature with the back of her hand before concluding, "Yeah." Alicia didn't look convinced. "No, it's not how I wanted to retire."

"It's just a broken arm," bargained Alicia. "You can still come back." 

"You know how Helene's career ended?" asked Sabrina. Alicia shook her head. "Hip fracture in the first Queen's Decree match back in 1997. Really bad fall. That was after ten years of neck and back injuries, issues, and surgeries. She was 36. Not that that's old - I'm turning 47 next month - but she'd been in and around the sport 18 years. When this happened," said Sabrina, showing off her cast, "I was six months shy of 30 years in the business."

"I don't want to be the one responsible for ending-" Alicia couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. 

The former wrestler performed a reversal, "Hey, I better not hear you bragging about retiring me!" Alicia cracked a smile in spite of herself. Sabrina explained, "I'm lifting the same weight, but it keeps getting heavier. The aches last longer. The mornings after hurt worse. I had a plan for my final match--who it would be with, how it would go--but I am no longer the person who can have that match. I have a whole career to look back on. I want to retire because I chose to, not because I had to."

"Think you'll be alright answering to Helene and Allen?"

Sabrina flashed a mischievous smile, "You're talking to the President of Talent and Operations. Worry about them keeping up now that I've got some actual stroke back here. I already got them to replace that friggin' sign after years of asking." Huh.

A tentative quiet hung between them as Alicia tried to work out the phrasing of her next request while Sabrina studied the wrestler's shifting, complicated expression. "Hey, Sab… I really appreciate you saving me when I got attacked after my match with Jill," said Alicia. She wanted to put the next part as delicately as possible, "From now on, please don't put yourself in danger to help me."

With a shrug and a slight shake of her head, Sabrina trying to put her former student at ease. "I wasn't planning on it."

Alicia was taken aback by the frankness of the declaration. "... Oh."

"I told you," clarified the new President of Talent and Operations. "I'm not a wrestler anymore."