The Body's Voice

“ReVival’s in Newark this week?” Tam asked like she didn’t ask a question to which she already knew the answer. “Maybe we should all drive up there. Make it a family affair.”

Tom sat on his recliner as if he didn’t hear his wife’s question, teetering between the hairy edges of dissociation and slumber.

“Hello? You there?”

He turned his head.

“Sorry, I was nodding off. Rough night of sleep.”

“Don’t tell me the nightmares are back,” she said half-joking.

“Nah, just, couldn’t get comfortable. Yeah, we can drive up. Kids will have to miss school if they want to come.”

“I’m sure they’ll be heartbroken.”

She walked over to the sofa and the seat adjacent to the recliner.

“Did the office tell you who you were facing yet? I know you got in late last night but…”

Tom looked as if he was going to grab the phone from his pocket but stopped short.

“I’m sure I got the usual text. I just don’t even want to think about the show yet, facing off against some Gamble-adjacent bullshit after the shit he pulled in one of my least favorite places to wrestle.”

Tam furrowed her brow.

“Newark? Why is that so bad? It’s just New Jersey.”

“No, it’s not New Jersey. It’s New Jersey.”

Somehow, he was able to speak the name of the Garden State the same way Joe Fontaine speaks about Fabulous Gold Mask. And Tam understood it. They were meant for each other, really.

“I mean, you got a bunch of people repping New York without living there, they call pork roll Taylor ham instead of what it should be called, and they worship people like fuckin’ Tony Soprano.”

Tam thought about countering with Philadelphia’s civic obsession with Rocky Balboa, but decided she didn’t want to play coy with her husband.

“Don’t tell me this shit with Gamble the last month has gotten you spooked about…”

She inhaled and readied her diaphragm to make the most sarcastic tone of voice ever recorded in the human language.

“…your legacy.”

Tom raised his lip and looked at his wife as if she’d grown a second head.

“Oh, oh god no no no, I mean, the whole retirement party shit was a bummer only because how could a dude keep finding ways to blast past rock bottom? He’s just cruising for a bruising at this point. I just really hate New Jersey. At least if the show was at the Garden, I could walk out of the hotel, get a falafel, have the guy call me ‘boss,’ and then maybe see him with his kid at the show if they got seats in the lower level.”

Tam chuckled a bit.

“But New Jersey? It’s just people who look like they want to tell me their opinions about Zohran Mamdani or the New York Jets. No thanks.”

He slowly started to rise from his recliner.

“Besides, I got that appointment later in the week. I feel like I need to be a little…”

His musings were interrupted by the sound of son’s elevated voice from upstairs.

“DAD! DAD!”

Vinny came charging down the stairs with his phone in his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were wrestling for the Five Star Title?”

The news startled Tom. He fumbled for his cell phone, and the text confirmed it.

“Main event. Rob Williams vs. The Anglo Luchador for the 5*.”

Tam stood up and smacked her husband upside the head.

“See? This is why you check your texts as soon as you get them.”

-

Sunday morning. A leisurely drive in the Not-So-Shitty Green Ford Explorer to New York Bakery for some tomato pie was in order. Tom took both the kids with him, as they both enjoyed browsing the non-pizza-related goods they had to offer. Zo hopped in the backseat, face in his phone, which was standard practice for him these days. As soon as Vinny saw his older brother slink into the back, he eagerly hopped into shotgun position.

“So Dad,” he asked before Tom even had a chance to press the brake to start the car. “What’s your strategy for kickin’ Rob’s bimch ass in two weeks?”

Tom groaned.

“No, seriously, you been trying to win this title for how long? We gotta get your head in the game! For real! Like, how is it that I had to tell you that you were wrestling for a title?”

“Kid, relax,” he replied.

“Relax? At a time like this?”

“Listen, AH FUCK,” Tom shouted as he jammed on the brakes for a car that ran a stop sign in front of him. “Jesus, breathe in.”

He composed himself and waited to answer his son until he crossed through the intersection.

“When I would go up in big matches in the past, not even just in PRIME, but before you kids were born, I would get myself all tied up in knots and then poof, in an instant, my shoulders would be on the mat. Just gotta treat this as any other match, like how I did with Pep and Team Stanislav and literally everyone else.”

Vinny scrunched his face up.

“But you got pinned in the Squad Goals match, and Aunt Lindz had to bail you out! And if we’re going by that logic, the last time I had a test that I wasn’t worried about, I got a D-minus! You gotta worry about things!”

“You got a D-minus because you stayed up the night before playing Kirby Air Racers,” chimed in Zo from the back.

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up! Trying to tell Dad how to win at wrestling when you literally manifested a figure that almost cost him a match for real for real.”

“I didn’t manifest the Mothman! He’s real!”

“Both of you, quiet down!”

He turned to his younger son.

“And Zo is right, Vin.”

“That I manifested the Mothman?”

“No. No. Somehow, I want to pin that on someone like Dr. Badguy or even Roderick. But no, he’s right about the wrestling thing. If I’m chilling out about all this, you should too.”

“I’m just tired of seein’ all those weirdos make fun of you on Jabber.”

Tom pulled up outside the bakery, and through an act of the gods, there was a parking spot. Success. He pulled out his best parallel park-job before replying to his son.

“Look kid, if it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you. Now let’s go get some tomato pie.”

They all opened their doors, but only two got out immediately. Tom forgot he had his seatbelt on and stopped short with a louder than expected yelp.

“AH! That’s gonna leave a mark,” he said with jovial tone betraying the deep worry he’d been feeling over an accumulation of dull aches and persistent pains.

-

Tom never minded the long drive to Bucks County to see his in-laws, even on weekdays, because they were always delightful hosts. The Mooneys invited them up for a Wednesday night dinner just to catch up, as Tom’s jaunts back and forth to Mexico during the last arc left their meeting times as a family sparse. The break in the cold weather allowed Angus to play grillmaster, serving up bangers and burgers for his family.

The longstanding agreement between the two was that if one cooked, the other cleaned. Eileen trudged into the kitchen to load the dishwasher and clean the trays.

“Thomas, my dear boy, can you join me in the kitchen? Give your bride a rest?”

Tom looked at Tam and shrugged before getting up to help his mother-in-law.

“Okay, Mom, what do you want me to do?”

She turned to her son-in-law and laughed.

“Ha, I don’t need help with this. I just wanted to talk to you away from the know-nothings and my daughter.”

Tom furrowed his brow.

“Is everything okay?”

She cackled.

“Of course it is! At least for me. I want to know about you, darling. How are you going to deal with all the distractions when you go for that Five Star Title?”

“Distractions? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy with me. You know every single match with the Whoresmen has a ridiculous dog and pony show going on outside. Always has been. It would be a lot easier if the Heroes were still together, that’s for sure.”

Tom nodded while wistfully looking over his shoulder, maybe thinking he’d have seen Force-ghosts of Sebastian Gold, Crash Jackson, and Tim Robinson dressed as Hot Dog Guy from that sketch on I Think You Should Leave in the corner of the room he gazed. No such luck.

“Yeah, for sure. But I’ll be fine.”

“Fine? I think you’re underestimating the chicanery and shenanigans afoot, my dear son. That strumpet Time Lady alone is so far lodged up Rob’s ass that she could put his foot on the ropes from inside his body.”

Tom had to laugh at the wordplay even if he knew the insinuation was that of an outsider.

“I get it, Mom, I get it. But it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with the numbers game. I’m just going to have to wrestle smart.”

She harrumphed as she nonchalantly dropped the serving tray into the dishwasher.

“Smart, huh? My dear son, smarts can only get you so far when you’ve got Daytona Diamonds traipsing around ringside on enough nose candy to make Hunter S. Thompson blush.”

“I appreciate the advice, but I’ve handled Whoresmen and Glue Boiz and Red Army nutbags and everyone else before. If they get me, they get me, and I can come out saying they needed help. But end of the day, I know I can wrestle circles around nearly anyone on that roster, and that alone can be intimidating.”

She turned around and smiled.

“You know, darling, you’ve sounded a lot more confident lately. Whatever it is you’re doing, keep on it.”

“Well, I just realized there are more important things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

Before he could answer, they both heard Angus in the living room.

“WHAT THE FECK HAVE RESPECTABILITY POLITICS GOTTEN US? UP THE RA!”

“Oh no, he’s gotten himself started on The Troubles again.”

They both quickly vacated to the living room.

-

Occasions were rare anymore that Tom and Tam got to have date nights, but with the kids getting older and more self-sufficient, they tried getting out by themselves with more frequency. Granted, the Mexico tour made it tough, but being local gave them optimism that they could do more and practice being empty-nesters with a little more frequency than they had when their schedules had much more demand from them.

While there were several restaurants in walking distance, they decided to drive out to the suburbs for the night. They had a lovely meal topped off with chocolate lava cake that Tam bullied her husband into sharing despite the fact that he nearly filled up on breadsticks before their entrees were served.

The drive home was silent until they hit the highway. Tom, still bloated from dinner, was content to get home so he could pop a few antacids and get on his recliner. Tam, however, was a bit eager to bring something up.

“So, Rob Williams, huh.”

Tom sighed.

“Yeah. Rob Williams.”

She snorted loudly.

“What? Am I supposed to know where you’re going with this?”

“Yeah. How much are you going to make him pay?”

Tom looked over at his wife incredulously for as much time as he could without it becoming a road hazard.

“Pay for what?”

“All the gross things he’s said about your son, about me, about you. This has got to be personal for you, and yet you’ve been nonchalant about it all week. A little too nonchalant.”

He sighed loudly.

“What do you want me to do? A bunch of cocaine and then cut a promo on him like I’m the fuckin’ POWERMASTER or Joey Melton? Those days for doing that on a random opponent are gone.”

“Random opponent? C’mon.”

“Yeah, random. If I had venom for everyone who talked shit on me, I would be out for blood against everyone on the roster and then some. I have knives out for the guy who has actually gone out of his way while the cameras were rolling to be a dick to me. I’m gonna always have knives out for the guy who threw me through a wall. For a dude who said some gross shit on a platform only we can see? I’m gonna take his title in front of twenty-thousand people from New Jersey.”

“That’s not still not enough. I can’t believe that the guy who got emo doing roofing over his legacy has somehow dropped all that in a month. Am I to believe therapy somehow has gotten that effective?”

“First off, how did you know about the roof thing?”

“You don’t think Lindsay and I still talk?

He groaned. Check and mate.

“Second, I wish my legacy was the first thing on my mind. I wish getting revenge was the prime directive anymore. But it’s not.”

Tam looked at him quizzically.

“Is this about the doctor’s appointment? I thought you said he cleared you and things were decent?”

They reached their exit on the highway. The lights to turn onto Columbus Boulevard were red, so he turned to his wife.

“You were busy in your office. I didn’t want to put it on you while you were probably dealing with putting out another fire that Edwards started.”

-

A few days earlier.

“Give it to me straight, doc. How much time do I have left before the ol’ Jake-leg takes me? Three months?”

The doctor chuckled.

“It’s not that bad. I am going to clear you going forward.”

He handed Tom a manila envelope.

“But I had to think about it long and hard.”

Tom shirked back while sitting on the examining chair.

“You’re not going to be able to decipher what’s in there, but those are your copies of all the imaging I ordered a few months back. I see a lot of signs of wear, some other concerning things that aren’t conducive to your line of work.”

He sighed deeply.

“I mean, you yourself were complaining about a loss of strength in your arms, some upper-body soreness. You had to have seen this coming, right?”

Tom shrugged and winced.

“I mean, I always got a lot to worry about, doc. It’s just…”

There was a pregnant silence in the room for a few moments before Tom continued.

“…my body’s voice has been drowned out until now.”

-

“Jesus.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about all that until now. To be fair, the osso buco was so fantastic I forgot about my aching joints for a moment.”

She whacked him with her clutch.

“Ass.”

They both chuckled, breaking the tension that soon refilled the car.

“So what are you going to do?”

He exhaled deeply.

“I’m going to do what I need to do in Newark. I’m going to do what I need to do for the rest of my career, however long that is.”

They both sighed.

“Well, I still think you should try to beat his ass a little harder, if not for you, then for me. I mean, there’s gotta be some way you can make submission holds hurt more, right? Maybe give him a titty-twister or something?”

Tom laughed.

“Maybe I’ll kick him in the nuts while Elvis isn’t looking.”

“I like that idea,” she said as they pulled up to their street and, by some miracle, found a parking spot within a few houses of their own.