Post by adm on May 13, 2009 23:12:35 GMT -6
Part 2 – Therapy Begins
“I know this isn’t the normal kind of thing you are used to, Mr. and Mrs. Bates, but I will try to make this as comfortable as possible for the two of you.”
Yes…therapy…god how I hate the idea of it, but yet I’m doing it to try and work things out with my wife for me, for her, and above all, for our kids. The room was small, and there was no couch, instead there were two chairs for my wife and I along with one for the therapist. Doctor Sara Biewen, a woman not much older than my wife, as our therapist. Did she even know how hard a marriage to such a man as I was would be? Probably not, but at least it’s an attempt. I stare at the off-white walls and their random flower-like paintings, the wallpaper is far more interesting than the thought of being asked what the relationship and job is like…
“Yes, well it was my husband’s idea, as if he was reading my mind.”
“Does he always do that?”
“Only when it is something serious.”
Great, my wife has no faith in me, still. She feels I’m only doing it because it’s what she would want…and she is one hundred percent right. She reads me like a book as the therapist turns to me.
“So…you two have a troubled relationship, how far back does it stem?”
“If you want to split hairs, before our eldest son, Andrew was born. I had just been “promoted” at work and the stress of the job and the fact I had no real vices put me in a position where I started taking it out on my wife…and later the children. I feel bad about it now…but…for the longest time I just had these blackouts when things happened, and I’d come back and my wife would be crying. After a while, I just thought she was really emotional because of the children and…I’m such a horrible husband and father.”
“Actually, Mr. Bates, you’d be surprised how many abusive relationships happen in what seems on the outside to be such a happy home. What you have is what you’d call “normal”. I have statistics to back it up. The same statistics that say only ¼ of women do not have any form of rape or sexual molestation in their lives by the age of 30. It is a sad statistic, but the truth sometimes hurts. And what you are here for is counseling, therapy, a way to try and mend the damaged bridge between you two otherwise happy people to make a happy couple once more. Am I right, Mr. Bates?”
“I think that’s the goal.”
Of course it’s the goal, as I stare at the mesmerizing flowers thinking also of my match and new partner. This is what I need to get my head back into the game…to fix the relationship that’s putting strain on work, not the other way around. Or was it both ways? Now I’m becoming confused…all because of this double-talking rational therapist. If only I could be a FREAK like Nero…
“And I’m sure your wife will agree this is best for the both of you.”
“Yes, Miss Biewen.”
“It’s Mrs. Biewen but continue.”
“I love my husband; I’m just concerned about his health with this wrestling job. I mean…you work for the company, you know what happens on the road, right?”
“Yes, and I also help with the drug screenings and evaluations of the roster. Most of them are in the same boat as your husband, but he’s the one who’s adjusted the best. I’m afraid…maybe you may be the one who needs some help.”
“It’s just…Ma’am…I’m afraid to lose my husband. And…this isn’t the life I’m used to having. I’m used to him…abusing me. I’m used to him working long hours five days a week and coming home angry. I’m used to it, and…maybe…”
“Maybe you miss it?”
My wife…misses me beating on her? God…how ****ed up are we? We have become the FREAKS I was against at first…when all I wanted was to be PERFECTLY NORMAL…this is a complication to the ultimate plan of normalcy…this is COMPLICATION that creates a dire emotional reaction for me.
“You miss it?”
“Y-I mean…no…I mean…I miss you being home…I miss having you around, in our bed every night. Sure…you beat me up and I’d have marks sometimes and I’d cry…but…at least you were THERE. When you did that to me, you weren’t you...when you were you were so sweet and kind…and…”
My wife begins to cry…she comes over to me and lays her head on my shoulders. Her tears soak into my brand new Joseph A. Banks suit I bought a week ago…on sale…and I don’t care. My wife is crying…I hold her. I love her…
“We’ll have to continue later, Mr. and Mrs. Bates. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Thanks.”
My wife is still in tears as I lead us out of the office. I know what’s going to come out of her mouth next…it’s about Nero…about his…oddities.
“I’m sorry about in there, Kristoff. I’m just…really emotional. But…it’s starting to help, right?”
“Help? With you in tears half the time…I don’t know.”
“It’s HELPING, Kristoff…believe me. I’ve never opened up about this stuff to you before…I was afraid you’d get angry.”
That made me angry…that she thought…nevermind.
“No, Kendra, I’m fine. Listen…about this week, I know…”
“Your “Partner” is a FREAK? Yeah…I heard he’s dating his SISTER of all things. He’s almost worse than those two FREAKS you are facing. Since when did we become the last two NORMAL people in this place?”
“I don’t think we are normal…not anymore.”
“A few therapy sessions and we aren’t a NORMAL couple anymore, Kristoff? You are convoluted and thick headed.”
Yes, perhaps. Perhaps I have convoluted thoughts and am confused about how this is supposed to help…but I guess for women it’s different. I take my frustrations out in the matches, and she has to cry it out, in a safe environment. Until she feels safe to cry to me again, it’s in therapy. I truly screwed up to make it this bad.
“He’s not that bad a guy; he’s like Harold in a way. He puts on a lot but he’s really a lot like you and me underneath it all.”
“Will he stalk us too? Will he infiltrate our house and play with our children? Just be glad he abducted Steve’s niece and not either of our boys…God…I still fear that man.”
“He’s not that bad…I’ve beaten him before…we respect each other, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt our family. Listen…be careful what you say when the cameras are around…”
“Really? There are cameras? I have barely NOTICED IN TWO WEEKS!”
Yes, she’s barely let me forget it…it’s like a reality TV show some days…other days they don’t bother us because I tell them not to. Today is one of the days they are here…documenting everything because I have a few words I have to say, then it gets put to the federation’s website and it’s all well and good again.
“You’re getting angry, maybe you should go on ahead, and Kendra…I’ll…finish up, ok?”
“I love you, Kristoff…hopefully we can work this out.”
“I love you too, Kendra.”
She walks off as I continue down the hall in the opposite direction, taking the stairs instead of the Elevator. It’s just a few blocks to the hotel, and a few blocks more to the venue where the show is this week. Where I team up for the first time as part of Perfect Freaks with Nero. Most people don’t’ understand Nero…but most don’t understand me either. They don’t understand Harold, but he just tears them apart. He’s gotten more violent lately, and I’m afraid for him, that he’ll do something stupid. But he’s not the problem, Dirty Deal is. They took the Xtreme title from me, and now…well…they happen to be the first test of a newly-formed tag team. Amazing…they really are trying to push the “Ultimate Wrestler” thing sometimes…I should really tell Chris Diamond to tone it down.
“Listen, Dirty Deal, I know you have heard what my partner said and didn’t understand a single thing that wasn’t expressed clearly in monosyllabic phrases, so before I confuse you, I’ll summarize it and speak REALLY slowly for you. Dirty Deal is dumb, they will lose. There? You like that? Now he couldn’t do a whole promo saying just that…it wouldn’t be very good for him…or the fans. Now…for me to confuse the chauvinistic ovine sodomites from the backwoods mongoloid country known as Alabama…or Louisiana…I don’t know which one, but you fly that rebellious flag of Confederacy very well, and I’m sure as much inbreeding you’ve succeeded in having over the last few millennia, you will not survive this fight without more brain damage than any amount of alcohol can incur to you in just a few hours of binge drinking like I know you are accustomed. Now…if you understood a single word of that…I’d be surprised.”
And yes, I truly would be surprised. For these two FREAKS are known to be as intelligent as the yeas within the slur-inspiring beer they drink. Be a man, drink Jack Daniel’s.
“Listen, I can go bad-mouthing you as much as I want and the fans won’t care, even if I’m a “good guy” now. Listen, they HATE you two. The only thing they see with you two is that you drink more than Stone Cold and try to be funny when racism, sexism and every other ism you are guilty of using and committing has been out of fashion since the nineteen seventies. Hell, even being as homophobic as you two and your life-shaping pattern of concealment could possibly be as you fear your secret, held firmly by the still-untainted by the two of you, Amber Ashe, is. And of course, for those under the age of 18, they get a bonus point or two to their IQ for watching these videos of Nero and myself on www.newchampionshipwrestling.com/. Watching the both of you, well…if you can BREATHE after watching the idiocy and blind hatred that conspires when you two show up on the screen, you’ll be lucky because it is such a detriment to the brain-power of an individual my survival to the match just because I have to watch that dribble, is not quite ensured.”
But wait…there’s more. I almost forgot that they relieved me of the burden of the Xtreme title. I begin to exit the building, stepping out into the rain-soaked streets as I think about what comes next on this rant.
“Listen…you relieved me of the Xtreme title, good job. You are co-Xtreme champs, good job. I commend you on doing the one thing nobody outside of some Podunk federation that doesn’t matter has done, be involved in some conspiracy to jointly hold a title. You helped my wife see how much I needed her in the process, that’s also good. Soon she’ll be walking down to the ring by my side, watching her man do the best he can and bring home some money for her to blow on our kids and the bills along with maybe a night at a fancy restaurant for our anniversary or something. Whatever happens, thank you. I know…odd that I actually thank someone for BEATING me, but…”
By the way, thanks Joe…good luck, you’re going to need it against Rob next week; he’s really tough to beat these days.
“But…it doesn’t spare you from the humiliation of being beaten by superiorly intellectual beings. I know my partner is a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a bit new…and also has this thing about the “old blood” of his. His only problem with me is my conformity to an ideal…an ideal I aspired to since a young age to try and get away from the freakish existence that would have otherwise caught up to me somewhere along the line with the alcoholic abusive father and psychotically hypochondriac mother and all. But I’m FINE…not PERFECTLY NORMAL, but NORMAL ENOUGH. More normal than you two drunken delinquents. Shouldn’t you two be in prison by now for what you’ve done to Amber…I mean kidnapping IS a crime isn’t it? Nevermind…The point of all the big words being this. Nero and I, demons and all, are more skilled and intelligent than you and your drunken buddy. We may be different from one another, but opposites sometimes make the best teams. So what if I lost to you in the cluster match, this is a new territory, I have a partner, and you don’t have weapons. This is a new beginning.”
A new beginning for me and nCw. I’ve gone through evolutions in this place. From creepy NORMAL guy, to PERFECTLY NORMAL to XTREMELY NORMAL and now…I don’t know what I am but as part of Perfect Freaks, I will do great things in the tag division, titles or not. Whether this is a way to bide time for the World Title run I shall eventually get or not, has yet to be seen, it’s only the beginning. But this beginning has a great test, Dirty Deal. They are not to be trifled with or ridiculed lightly. I admit, they are Dirty-Dealing pricks in the ring and will do whatever it takes to win a match. They’ll probably even pull out the weapons when the ref isn’t looking to gain an advantage, but that’s fine. FREAKS can handle weapons. FREAKS can handle pain. FREAKS can handle just about anything. And Nero and I…we are PERFECT FREAKS and we will show you just what Perfect Freaks…can do.