Post by Debra Monroe on Mar 26, 2021 4:43:01 GMT -5
Deb watched the mailman deliver his duty and settled herself as he passed by to his next assignment. The Huggernaught slid two VIP front row tickets to Timebomb into the envelope already containing cash and cards to cover travel and food, then proofread the letter to Private Bailey’s mother one more time before inserting it into the envelope also. The note contained the same apologies and pleas of forgiveness that the others she’d sent over the years. None of the checks she sent with them were ever cashed, and she occasionally received a reply written in barely legible writing authored by grief stricken condemnation.
This time was different though.
Debra had detailed her stunning shot at the Television Championship that came so quickly last week, and how she’d lost the match. She outlined the champion she was to fight for it again: Twiztid Insane. The chances were slim that Debbie would win, but she’d placed a hook for Bailey’s mother to bite. In the note she’d teased a ceremony honoring her daughter if the wrestling gods shone favor upon the Debster, and yes an act of god is what it would likely take to wrest the belt from Twiztid.
And if she lost again? It might be even better for Bailey’s mom, because she would get to see her daughter’s “murderer” in unimaginable physical and emotional pain and misery.
She sealed the envelope, hugged it and kissed it, then walked up to Ms. Bailey’s mailbox and personally slid it in. This wasn’t the first time she’d been to Ms. Bailey’s rundown L.A. shack. The two other times she made it as far as the front door, even knocked once, but lost her nerve and fled.
This time she retreated to her car and waited.
”Come on. Come on.” She tapped her steering wheel impatiently.
Finally Ms. Bailey shambled out of her shack, closely followed by her 8 year old daughter Sara, who Ms. Bailey birthed at 41 years old, several years after Private Bailey’s death. That’s what Deb had gleaned in her safe distance Facebook stalking over the years anyway. Seeing the mom in poor health nearing 50 saddened her; she’d put some of that on her. She wanted to run to her and throw herself at her feet. Less than 50 yards separated them. But a thousand miles of guilt stood in the way.
Plus, in this neighborhood, Ms. Bailey was probably packing heat and would blast her to bits on sight.
”What the hug?” Deb strained her eyes and noticed Sarah was rocking the Huggernaught’s trademark Debbie-do top knot ponytail. The Debster smiled and watched as Ms. Bailey opened the package she'd left her and pulled the money out. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make her stagger. Sarah bounced up and down excitedly. Debra could hear her squealing something about pizza tonight.
The Mugger from Huggerton cherished the moment and continued to watch as Ms. Bailey ambled back to the door while inspecting the rest of the contents, Sarah orbiting her with boundless energy and joy the whole way.
Seeing Sarah sporting her trademark hairstyle meant she was a fan, and it filled Debra with a deeper resolve to defeat the Jugglenaught.
Win or lose, hopefully they’d be there. Maybe 28,000 cheering Arizonians testifying about Deb could soften the heart of Ms. Bailey. Maybe not. Either way it was a win-win for Ms. Bailey if they showed.
End