🅷🅴🆁🅂🅃🄾🅁🅈 🆅: 🄺🄸🄻🄻█🅴🆁 (Reprise)
Nov 27, 2022 14:51:40 GMT -5
Addy A, Johnny Bacchus, and 3 more like this
Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Nov 27, 2022 14:51:40 GMT -5
“What’s the matter?” Johnny noticed the blood drain from my face as my eyes widening in shock. I knew this text was coming - hell, I’m the one who prompted it - but the magnitude of seeing her name again, and spending one of my last days before my next adventures reconciling with her didn’t dawn on me until I saw the message. “I see.” “J - I’m sorry,” I choked out, just above a whisper, when I saw his expression change from curiosity to quiet reticence, “I shouldn’t have ever asked her.” “She isn’t worth your acknowledgement,” he said, his lips turning down into a frown before looking to me, “I trust you.” “Thank you,” I answered with relief. I moved my lips towards his, but he turned his face instinctively. “But I don’t trust her,” he said, his voice tilting towards broken frustration. “I wouldn’t trust her with dog-sitting, let alone with you.” I felt my cheeks vibrate, feeling my tear-ducts about to break. “Look, Tiger - I love you. Very much.” He paused after noticing my relief, but when began to interrupt, he held up a finger. “But I’m going to be real with you. I have less than zero desire to be a fucking cuckold. That woman is a Venus Fly Trap - she’s going to sit there and give you doe-eyes and act like a wilting flower. She’s going to target your old-soul romanticism and sensitivities and try to lure you in - but the 🄺🄸🄻🄻█🅴🆁 will come out eventually. And you know this already - how couldn’t you?” “I fucked her over, not the other way around.” He scoffed. I couldn’t vocalize an answer. “Never forget the Four Noble Truths – life is suffering and dissatisfaction, which stems from attachments, you’ll never transcend suffering without letting go, and letting go is the only way to Enlightenment. I get it, you think there’s some closure you could get – there ain’t. She’s here to pick at scars, not offer sutures. Do you think it’s any coincidence that she’s using your shit with TJ to waltz back in now? Why she’s peaking in the door and guilting you into thinking you need to explain yourself?” “Do you really think that’s her motivation?” “You’re happy, Lissie. You’re healthy. You’ve moved on. But this is how all narcissists operate - they slither back when they’ve lost control.” “I’m not going to let her,” I said unconvincingly as my voice cracked. Johnny stood from the bed, pulling a shirt over his body. As he walked to the door, “I’m not-” “She’d leave you at the airport again,” he interrupted. “And naturally you’d expect me at the bottom of the fall with a trampoline like fuckin’ Game & Watch.” “Where are you going?” I cried out as he twisted the handle. “For coffee,” he answered. I stood up and grabbed my purse, but he put out a hand to stop me. “I love you, J,” I promised, fighting through tears. “This is exhausting,” he said. “You’re backsliding. And I wish I could just be enough.” “J–” I said as the door closed. “You are.” But I was speaking to a ghost. CBS …does not… …stand for… Canadian Bull Shit. There’s no sisterly love to be had at Turmoil, Tatiana. We were friends - or, at least, we tried to be. I thought we could be. I showed you respect. I wanted to give you a platform to carve out your niche in Action Wrestling. Have an instant-classic match with me that you could highlight on your resume. I gave you a thumbs up, a pat on the ass, and demanded that the industry respect the fact that you took me to my fuckin’ limit. But you didn’t want that. You felt disrespected - I could see it in your cold eyes. And I don’t blame you - because the almost isn’t enough. I know that in my bones. But your fakeness, Tatiana - your revisionism - your bullshit… You’re as transparent as the crystal-blue ocean. I see what’s inside your soul. I know what you want. And I’ll kill before I let you have it. The waves of Jamaica Bay rumbled over the shore. The moon reflected off the water, lighting up the night sky above Brighton Beach. Christmas lights hung over the pier extending over the water, and as my feet bounced on the wood below, I felt them get heavier as I approached Emma Langdon watching the boats surrounding the lighthouse. I remembered being on one of those boats before - with her - and the reminder stopped me in my tracks. She could feel my shadow lurking behind her - and I was silenced. “Hi, Liss,” she said through gritted teeth. I shook the paralysis from my body and approached, opening my arms for a hug. She stopped me by extending a hand instead. “How are you?” “Cold,” I answered, tying the sash of my sweater around my body. I hadn’t yet bought winter clothes after my move to Brooklyn. “Let’s go in here,” she said, leading the way to the beach cafe. She pulled two stools over to the gas heater, and I quickly began rubbing my hands over the coils. “We’re gonna have to take you shopping,” she said with a half-smile. “I’m not gonna be in town long,” I answered sharply, my tone catching her by surprise. “I’m flying to Philly tomorrow.” “The match with Tatiana?” “And it’s off to Tokyo after that for CULT,” I said, without acknowledging her mention of Tatiana Jolee. I tried to keep Johnny’s warnings in the back of my mind. “When does Big Brother start?” “The first.” “Oh wow - so these are your last couple of matches for awhile.” “Hence why I asked you if you needed to talk -” I said with urgency, before fading to the finish. “- so we should probably get this over with.” “Wow,” she mouthed, her voice barely above a whisper. “So I guess we should get right into it, then. Wouldn’t want to keep you from…” I felt awful, knowing that I had erected a wall, and wouldn’t allow her to penetrate it. “Watching you move on so quickly - and so publicly - “ she started, her eyes beginning to water. “It really hurt me, Lissie.” “It wasn’t quick,” I answered quickly. But I opened the floodgates, and there was no stopping the avalanche. “Johnny and I have always been complicated, from the first day we met. It was a long journey, through so many trials and tribulations but we were always going to e–” I felt each word pained her, like she was being slashed over and over again. “Are you sure you want to hear the truth?” Here’s the truth, Tatiana. CBS …does not… …stand for… Canadian Bitch Shit. I see what you’re trying to do - you’re trying to discredit me before I take on the world. Before I move on to expanding my brand and making my name mean more than Action Wrestling, you’re trying to diminish it before I start. It’s because I stand for everything you’ve never been able to stand for yourself. I move mountains - while you’re still trying to climb them. I break glass ceilings - and you’re devastated that the twenty-years you’ve bled into this business are overshadowed by what I've done in four. You’ve invested your livelihood in professional wrestling. Professional wrestling has invested in mine. Your bitch-made ass could cry on Twitter all day for every opportunity I’m presented with. Just say fucking thank you that I’m even giving you one to begin with. “Did you ever love me? Or did you love the idea of me? Did you only say it because you knew I loved you? Did it make you feel good to say you loved someone?” “Let me answer,” I pleaded, her barrage of questions catching me off-guard. “Of course I did, Emma. Still do. I always will,” I said, and she shook her head in response. “It’s true. Love was never missing from us, Emma.” “Then what?” “You weren’t my story, Emma. You were a chapter, but the book is about him. It’s always been him, Emma. If I had moved on from anyone, I had moved on from him.” She sat wordlessly, absorbing the weight of the words I was trying to explain. “Emma…” “I don’t understand,” she said callously, her cadence transitioning from desperation to castigation. “How can you still love me?” “Do you think it just stops? It doesn’t work like that, Emma. You meant a lot to me.” “...meant?” “I want the best for you. Truly,” I told her, hoping I could convince her. I didn’t want to step away from this conversation with her hating me even more than she already did. “I want the best for you - your dad - everyone. I want you to find someone who’s going to give you the moon. I want you to meet the person who will light up your world. Who will stop time to be with you.” “Are those lines from your story?” she said, sarcastically. “Emma, please. I want you to find your person, because it’s not me anymore,” and I finished. “I’m not sure if I ever was.” “Fuck,” she muttered, placing her hand on her chest. “Do you know how hard it is to hear that from someone you were prepared to spend your life with?” “Do you know it’s even harder to admit it,” I answered quickly. “Knowing how much it’s hurting you?” “It’s always a competition with you,” she scoffed. “You always have to win everything. You constantly need a punching bag. Whether it’s Holden… or Tatiana… or me… however I can be of use, Lissie, to make you feel better about yourself. Grab your gloves and I’ll keep my head still.” “Please, stop,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I wasn’t using you, Emma - but you have no idea how useful you were. I needed you. I needed you to help me discover who I really am. And I know that makes me selfish, and I know it doesn’t make this any easier for you to hear, but it’s the truth. And I owe you the truth, finally,” Emma’s expression changed from anger to insolence. “You meant so much to me, Emma. To my growth. My recovery. My identity. And I’m going to be grateful for it for the rest of my life.” “Good for you,” she said, the coldness in her tone sent shivers down my body, even more intense than the ones reacting to the winter night. “You said you had something you needed to say to me,” I said, my patience waning thin. “I’m doing all of the talking. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear – so what is it?” “When you come back in town,” she said, beginning to grab her belongings. “Give me a call next time you need a pick-me-up.” She rose from her seat and I grabbed at her wrist; she quickly flung it from my grip. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” “You know what it means,” she said, and I began to see her pupils spiral and dilate. I couldn’t tell if it was a reflection from the moon and the stars, a figment of my imagination, or true reality. “You obviously don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine – but I know who you are, Lissie. I know what you'll always be.” “What happened to you, Emma? You’re so cold now. This isn’t you.” “You happened to me,” she said with directness. “You changed me. Or maybe it was there all along, and nobody cared to see it before.” “Does Tatiana?” “Does it matter?” “Fair enough.” Emma flung her purse over her shoulder and took a step away from me. “Wait, Emma - “ I cried out. “That’s not fucking fair. It's cruel that blame me for changing you.” “Lissie Hope,” she started, her cadence lifting into a sing-songy voice. “Or Tyler Norrie - maybe a little bit of both.” She started to march off, leaving me to marinate on her truth. “You know, I almost slept with him - “ she admitted. That felt like a dagger in my chest. “Even after everything. Isn’t that something? You make someone feel so defeated that they seek comfort from the person who tormented her?” she said, a smirk tearing through the moonlight. “Congratulations, Lissie. You always said you were a 🄺🄸🄻🄻█🅴🆁.” As she began to walk off, I felt the demonic urges of temptation rise from the pit of my stomach. “Wait –” She turned to look at me, the cold, lifeless stare emanating from her eyes. “What do you have on you?” What do you have on me, TJ? I’m a gutter whore? A heartbreaker? Why are you so invested in me? Why do you care so much about what I do? Just tell me the truth. I can take it. You can try to take this title, Tatiana. But there’s no world where you’ll ever 🄺🄸🄻🄻 🅼🅴. I’m Lissie fuckin’ Hope. It doesn’t matter if I’m living in the Big Brother house. Or putting pads on on Sundays. Cause until the day I die? I always fuckin’ will be. It was after midnight when I reentered my new flat on the 11th floor of the Oceana Condominiums with a corner bay window overlooking my own personal Dreamland, Coney Island. The Parachute Jump lit up the inside of my condo, and I found Johnny asleep on the couch, his ankles crossed and his copy of “Phenomenology of Spirit” laid open across his chest. The TV had stayed on PBS, an old episode of “The Joy of Painting” lit up the room. I sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching him sleep for a few seconds. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. But the gust of cold wind got the curtains flapping, and I slid the window shut. Seeing the goosebumps cover every inch of his arms, I covered him with a blanket - if this was any other day, I would’ve curled up next to him, arched my body into his, and warmed myself up with the heat from his chest. But I didn’t want to wake him. I had something I needed to do. I snuck into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind me. I caught my reflection in the mirror - but I was looking at a ghost. Reaching into my purse, I felt around for the small plastic bag. But in place of the discarded 11-month sobriety chip, I felt the familiar oval shape in between my fingertips. I salivated, remembering the familiar bitterness. My imagination ignited, remembering the familiar sensation. I am a 🄺🄸🄻🄻🅷🅴🆁. She wasn’t a ghost anymore. |
