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Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Jul 17, 2022 11:11:07 GMT -5
I’m sorry, J.
Lissie had lost track of how many times she’d typed the message over the last two weeks. There were moments when she thought to demand one herself, particularly when he’d say or do something that bugged her, but she knew that she had invited him into her downpour and never offered him an umbrella. She was thankful for him - but she was also deeply hurt, and angry, and resentful - but to who?
She thought she knew the answer.
But the upcoming match might change the question.
“Babe, they ready fah ‘ya,” Addy said, poking her head into the doorway. Lissie nodded and followed her out the door.
It was early, and I was feeling stimulated after finishing a second Americano before we boarded the Brightline. I'd heard wonderful things about this innovative form of transit, an inexpensive speedrail between two blossoming metropolises in sunny, oceanside Florida. I left a morning meeting with Chris Page prior to our tag-team pairing in CU:LT to pick Johnny Bacchus up at Miami International - it was an awkward car-ride, to say the least. But we agreed to leave the seductive ghosts of depraved Miami to spend a day in Ft. Lauderdale, an itinerary he presented that included renting a room at the Beachcomber Resort and patroning an older punk bar named the Poor House, where he promised my sobriety wouldn’t be jeopardized.
I felt the shiver of nerves course through my body as I watched the buildings and the palm trees appear for just a split second, and my eyes followed as they disappeared behind me. If felt like the train was traveling faster than light, the shaking of the cabin and the screeching of the steel on the tracks invigorated me. But Johnny only looked out the window, and he wasn't sharing in the excitement with me.
It seemed like his mind was elsewhere.
I remembered when Johnny told me that Mae loved to ride the train in Oakland. Sometimes, she didn’t even need to go anywhere - she would just ride for hours. And they enjoyed that simplicity together. The feeling of new experiences, of new sights and sounds, of new people and culture. And even though I'd left my ghosts in Miami, his demons were still following us to Ft. Lauderdale. I reached for his hand, offering him comfort and support, and he surprised me by squeezing my fingers in return.
But still, I can't remember the last time I'd seen him smile. I hadn’t seen the whites of his teeth in a long while, and even as I swung in the hammock kicking the sand under my feet, and even as I playfully attempted to take selfies of us - especially knowing he never liked to be in them - and though we had a great time with the locals and tourists we'd met, I still felt a gulf between us. It was as if he was on the other side of a wall, but was keeping the window locked shut.
But when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I caught Johnny smiling.
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“What if we went way back - before all this?
Maybe that’s the biggest mistake we made. We jumped over the line, we barreled through the barrier, and we left our chests open for the dagger. Hearts shouldn't take this much damage. There are only so many times they can break. It didn’t have to hurt this much. You could’ve left me alone - we should've watched each other succumb to the D̶̛̙̝̤̰̊̂̌̚a̷̱̦͖̮̟̎̄͆r̸̡͓̗̰͛̈́̌͐ķ̵̧̱̇̐̿̑͝n̸̨̖͖͓̳͍̿͜e̷̘͚̓̾̈́͐͗͑ş̸̯̳̙̘͈͑ͅs̴͇̦̖͎͎̃͋͒ - and you would've picked out your gravestone.
Would you have wanted to be buried next to mine?
Maybe before.
But you shouldn’t now.
Because I’m not the trophy you thought I was.”
He’d taken me to this punk bar, and on the way over, he mitigated my concerns about how I would be received - I tried to dress the part, and landed on short shorts and a cuffed flannel that stretched around my curves. I wondered how I could maintain my sobriety, yet still feel safe and comfortable among the rowdy crowds, the clouds of smoke, the scent of cheap beer spills and the urinal with the broken door. And he sensed my apprehension from the minute we stepped in, squeezing my hand and gliding across the wooden flooring, ignoring the curious glances in our direction. I asked for a Topo Chico, and he traced the X on my hand with his fingernail as we waited.
We spent a little time on the patio - I really needed some fresh air, and the wafts of the saltwater from the Atlantic torpedoed through the atmosphere with every gust of wind. I wasn’t used to the fluctuating weather - Conroe, and New Orleans for that matter, was always a varying degree of hot and hotter. The mosquitos were familiar, however. When he saw me swat at a fresh sting on my leg, he offered me his jacket to cover up.
I started to get more comfortable, and eyed a group when the scent of their blunt hit my nostrils. I rose from the bench, leading him by the hand, but he stopped me. I know he just wanted to keep me safe, and I trusted that he would.
We eventually went back inside, and I felt my legs a little wobbly. I braced myself on the jukebox, steadying myself, and he craned his body behind me, leaning his jaw on my shoulder..
His hand hovered over mine as we scrolled through the catalogue, and I could feel his heart beating through his chest. He didn’t say a word, not even when I landed on an old instrumental tune that reminded me my youth.
He slid a dollar into the slot.
“We might kill the vibe in here and get ourselves kicked out,” I joked, as "Sleep Walk" by Santo & Johnny kicked in. “You’d be surprised,” he said with a smile, before leading me back to our booth.
“Wait,” I said, eyeing the empty dancefloor. And it seemed like the bar parted, and I led him to a stage erected just for us. I leaned into his body, feeling his lips on my forehead, and we swayed slowly, but in unison. I hadn’t felt this protected since… since -
In this venue of uncertainty and paranoid familiarity, I could’ve sworn the spirits were here to do us harm. But I was wrong - the demons had been chased out. And we were at peace with God and his angels.
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“I’ve given my life to this industry - even when it crushed me. But I keep coming back - I guess I like the punishment. I welcome it. In some ways, I think I deserve it.
I don’t know why I even have faith sometimes - in myself, in my sobriety, in God.
In Robbie.
Even when I think I’m turning the corner, I always find myself coming right back and making the same mistakes. And people like you have given me a long leash. You haven’t held me accountable. You placed your trust in me, and your belief in me, and act surprised when I let you down.
I just didn’t expect you to do the same to me.
Twice.”
It was a dizzying retreat as we stumbled over the beach, feeling the sand kick up into my boots. It was nearing three in the morning, and though we hadn’t succumbed to the temptations of cheap well whiskey and canned lagers, I still felt disoriented. Maybe it was the two tokes of Johnny’s blunt that made me a little airy, but I think it was something else. The emotional rollercoaster I’d been on all day had finally reached it’s greatest heights, and a part of me was still waiting for the terrifying plunge into the depths below.
But it didn’t come. I heard the screaming flight of a bottle rocket tearing through the air, the crack of a miniature detonation a hundred feet in the sky invited me to the sand. He let his body fall next to me and placed the back of his head on my legs. I brushed the bangs out of his eyes, watching as his tired eyes struggled to stay awake. “It’s too late for this,” I said, with a smile. “They’re gonna get bounced from the resort.” But I still enjoyed the little show, feeling their hopeful energy, listening to their carefree laughter.
“It’s too early for this, actually,” he contended, fighting through a yawn. “The Fourth isn’t for a couple more days.” I leaned over and whispered into his ear. “It’s never too early to celebrate something special.” I could sense his eyes were growing heavier by the second, and I don’t think he even processed what I was actually implying. I tapped his chest and stood up, grabbing him by the hand. “Let’s go to bed,” I said.
We reached our door and I bit my fingernail, watching his hand fumbling in his pocket. I hooked my arm in his elbow, gently encouraging him to hurry - it was getting cold.
As we entered the foyer of the beachfront bungalow, the roles seemed to reverse. He flicked the lightswitch, and I stopped in my tracks. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and I felt my heart palpitate. Now, he was completely alert, while I felt my feet get heavy.
“Nothing,” I said, convincing nobody.
He eyed me with concern as I took a seat on the stool at the bartop. He poured me a glass of water, watching as I was wrestling with some thoughts and emotion that I couldn’t even process myself. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and I shook my head ‘no’, feeling the corners of my eyes begin to burn. I looked at him and offered a smile, but I could tell that he suspected it was masking something else entirely.
“You can have the bed,” he offered sincerely, taking a seat on the stool next to me. I placed my head on his shoulder. “I’ll sleep out here, on the couch or something. It’s not a big deal,” he said. I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes for fear of mine erupting with tears. “It’s okay, really, I’ve slept on worse.”
“You’re too good to me,” I admitted. I kissed his shoulder in gratitude. “Good night, Jay.”
“Good night, Tiger,” he replied, through a toothy smile. “Get some sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”
When I closed the door behind me, I remembered Las Vegas.
I spent the next hour tossing and turning in bed, trying to force my eyes closed. But I remember how painful it was for him to leave me. I wanted to stay at the top of the world with him, but I don’t think I could survive another free fall.
I was hypnotized by the chain of the ceiling fan dangling, smacking the bulb with every rotation. And I sat up in bed, flicking on the light, feeling like I needed to confront why this memory had paralyzed me now. At this moment. But I was scared to broach the subject.
I entered the living room. He was not on the couch. I had to snicker, it was the only feeling I could muster with that stunned realization that it happened again.
But the porch light was on. And the blinds were open. And they weren’t when we got here.
And he was lying on the hammock.
And there was room for two.
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The Swallowing marched down the long-winding corridor, the dim bulbs overhead flickered, and the sound of the antsy crowd bellowed through the walls of the thirty-year-old venue. It felt like the arena was shaking, and the intensity in the atmosphere was reaching fever highs.
This would be the first one-on-one match between Lissie Hope and Johnny Bacchus.
As they turned the corner, their eyes met. Lissie froze like a corpse, and she didn’t even hear the producer give her direction. Instead, what brought her back to life was the final realization:
It was over with Johnny Bacchus.
But it was also just the beginning.
“I have a surprise,” Lissie said, her expression being that of joyous energy. But Johnny stared at her with suspicion, anchored in his tracks under the shadowy silhouette on the sidewalk as she marched towards the towering W Hotel in downtown Miami. “Come on, Jay,” she encouraged, skipping back to meet him. She hooked her elbow and tugged him towards the entrance. She waved at the concierge on the way in and led him towards the elevator.
“11th floor?” Johnny questioned after Lissie lit the button. Johnny felt uneasy, feeling surrounded by a stench of paranoia and regret and denial. Lissie stood rooted in place, arching her neck up to watch the numbers climb. Johnny felt like minutes passed as they approached their destination, and he felt tingling on the back of his neck, as if spiders were crawling under his skin. There was no god in this elevator - but there was an aura of D̶̛̙̝̤̰̊̂̌̚a̷̱̦͖̮̟̎̄͆r̸̡͓̗̰͛̈́̌͐ķ̵̧̱̇̐̿̑͝n̸̨̖͖͓̳͍̿͜e̷̘͚̓̾̈́͐͗͑ş̸̯̳̙̘͈͑ͅs̴͇̦̖͎͎̃͋͒.
As the elevator pinged, Johnny almost expected to descend into the depths of Hell when the door slid open. But it was a normal, quiet, hotel vestibule. The carpeted floor felt like glue on his feet, but Lissie’s magnetic personality assuaged his concerns, even momentarily. Johnny braced himself on the wall, and Lissie leaned in to kiss him.
“It’s okay,” Lissie said, realizing that Johnny was hesitating. Of course he would know the significance. She led him down the hallway, passing five rooms on each side, until they got to the room. Lissie slid her keycard in, and heard the lock open. Johnny traced the stencil of the room number with his finger - room 1111 - and felt a shock of electricity on the tip.
“Why are we here?” Johnny finally asked, closing the door behind him. Lissie leaped and landed in the middle of the bed, inviting Johnny to join her. He took a seat at the foot of the bed, and Lissie crawled up behind him, moving the collar of his shirt, placing her lips at his shoulder bone, traveling up his neck. She slid her legs around and saddled him, feeling their lips melt together. Johnny welcomed it - at first. “Lissie,” he said, tearing away from her lips. “Why the fuck are we here?”
Lissie exhaled and leaned back, retreating from his lap. She walked towards the patio and swung the door open. Johnny slowly approached from behind, watching as she looked out over the city. He remembered the posts on Twitter that night, and it was eerie seeing that vantage point and perspective again, this time in real life.
“I need to confront my demons, and face my fears, and you’re the only person I trust that can help do it,” Lissie admitted. She turned to face Johnny, and she looked catatonic, as if the blood had drained from her body. “This is the first time I’ve been back up here. I can’t even bring Addy here.”
Johnny continued to watch her, mindful of any sudden movements. But she turned and sank into the chair. “I’m sorry,” Lissie said. “I know this is a big responsibility I’m putting on you. I just thought - I know -” she corrected. “ - we have this amazing, unspoken connection. You know what I’m thinking, and feeling, and I don’t even have to tell you. And I’ve never found that with anyone else.”
“And that’s mutual,” Johnny reassured her. Lissie looked up at him blankly. “But this feels like torture.”
“I’m not trying to torture you,” Lissie said, reaching for his hand.
“I meant yourself.”
“I need this, Jay,” Lissie said, raising herself from the chair. She approached Johnny, and hooked her fingers in his belt buckle. “Please trust me - “ she kissed him playfully. “ - the way I trust you.” A little more hunger this time.
“If this is what you need,” he conceded, “I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.”
Lissie continued kissing him, pushing backwards until they collapsed into the bed.
“I just want to lay here,” Lissie said. “All night.” Johnny wrapped his arms around her, feeling her arch her back into his torso. Lissie’s eyes were trained at the open bathroom, the light on, the tile unchanged. Her memory triggered of how that long crawl towards the toilet felt, and finally, a tear slid down from the corner of her eyes.
“I can’t believe I died here before,” Lissie said, and Johnny felt the weight of her words. She turned to look back at him. “But right now - with you - I haven’t felt more alive.” Johnny leaned in and kissed her on the top of the head. Lissie, with tears forming in her eyes, slowly reached down for his belt buckle, but Johnny placed his hands on hers.
“Not here,” he said. “Not right now. Not like this.”
Lissie smiled, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah, it would be a little awkward.”
“A lot awkward,” Johnny teased. He lifted her up by the waist and planted her on her feet. Lissie was surprised by his strength, and palmed the contours of his arms.
“We still have to fight eventually,” she said with a chuckle. “And nothing’s going to be more awkward than that, but -” she teased, whispering into his ear. “ - it’s going to be pretty damn hot afterwards,” she finished, parting with a tug of the earlobe with her teeth.
“That would require you saying yes,” Johnny said, and the air in the room seemed to get sucked out. And the D̶̛̙̝̤̰̊̂̌̚a̷̱̦͖̮̟̎̄͆r̸̡͓̗̰͛̈́̌͐ķ̵̧̱̇̐̿̑͝n̸̨̖͖͓̳͍̿͜e̷̘͚̓̾̈́͐͗͑ş̸̯̳̙̘͈͑ͅs̴͇̦̖͎͎̃͋͒ returned.
“I want to give it to you, John,” she said, her joyful expression fading to a hiss. “But what about her?”
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