Post by Jeremiah Greyson on Sept 12, 2016 10:47:29 GMT
It was a strange feeling to be both elated and devastated and yet as he sat in the driver’s seat of his old Toyota Camry that was exactly what he felt. There were moments when he wanted to laugh and pump his fists in the air and shout for joy. Those feelings were followed immediately by the urge to lay his forehead against the steering wheel and allow tears of frustration and disappointment to flow freely. He had spent all week convincing himself that it was simply an honor to be a part of the company, and to compete with so many top tier talents. Yet, when he had walked into the Manhattan Center that afternoon he had come to the realization that he didn’t just want to compete, he wanted to win.
If he could have just made it out of those initial qualifying matches then he would have been home free to walk home with one of the two belts. The Atlantic Championship would have looked nice wrapped around his waist. Ladder matches were his forte and he hadn’t been able to get there. He could blame Dick Devereaux, sure, but he was just a product of an environment that had forced him for so long to act the way he did. You couldn’t change a man like that. In truth, deep down, Jeremiah felt a bit bad for having a hand in costing Dick his shot at a championship. Revenge wasn’t really his style, at least not the way he had acted that night, but he had gotten caught up in similar moments in the past and reacted the same way. And at least the fans had appreciated his actions.
His mother and father, though, would not. That was part of the reason why he had been sitting in his car in silence for so long. He wasn’t prepared to drive home and face them, nor had he been ready to pick up the phone and make the call that he made after every event he participated in. Frustration finally overwhelming him, Jeremiah punched the steering wheel and let out a heavy sigh.
He took one more deep breath into his lungs, calming himself, and reached for his phone. His fingers moved rapidly across the touch screen, searching for the contact information and pressing the call button and then the speaker button before setting his phone down on the dashboard. Everything was silent except for the loud, ominous buzz of the phone ringing, sending his anxiety into overdrive until finally the noise was silenced when the call was answered on the other end.
“I know, Ma. You’re disappointed in me. I let you and pop down. I’m sorry. I thought I was good enough to make it here, just for a second I thought I was, but I let you all down.”
Ah, yes. There they were. Emotions. Those terrible things he had been trying to bury deep down and not let overtake him. Just like that they had snuck up on him, bringing water to the corners of his eyes. Yes, water. Not tears. Never tears. At that moment it was all just too much for a twenty three year old kid to handle on his own, fighting to figure out his place in the world, fighting to keep his mother in good spirit, fighting her cancer for her. Every match won seemed like it was one battle in a war against that horrible disease that they claimed victory over. Every loss seemed like a shot to the stomach, a battle lost in that same war. Lately, it seemed like the victories affected her less and less, and the defeats more and more. He had had a shot to truly get her back in the fight and he had blown it.
Fuck.
“Jer, son. You didn’t let any of us down. You don’t know how proud we are of you, going out there and giving it your all. That match should have been yours if it wasn’t for that other man.”
“If you hadn’t done what you did, who else would he have found a way to cheat out of a win? I think those two ladies should be saying thank you to you.”
That made him smile, and he knew that she had known it would.
Home? Yes, that sounded good right about then. To get out of the city and back into a world where the air was fresh, and pure, and the weight of his own expectations could be forgotten for a short period of time.
Jeremiah smiled, feeling the sudden change in mood over the phone as his parents both inhaled deeply, trying to figure out how to express their pleasure without making him feel pressured in any way, shape or form.
“I’m sure she’d love to see you again, dear.”
He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself.
They said their goodbyes and soon enough the phone call was ended, silence filling the car once more. It was then that the full weight of his failure that evening hit him. All he could do was lay his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat and let it wash over him.
If he could have just made it out of those initial qualifying matches then he would have been home free to walk home with one of the two belts. The Atlantic Championship would have looked nice wrapped around his waist. Ladder matches were his forte and he hadn’t been able to get there. He could blame Dick Devereaux, sure, but he was just a product of an environment that had forced him for so long to act the way he did. You couldn’t change a man like that. In truth, deep down, Jeremiah felt a bit bad for having a hand in costing Dick his shot at a championship. Revenge wasn’t really his style, at least not the way he had acted that night, but he had gotten caught up in similar moments in the past and reacted the same way. And at least the fans had appreciated his actions.
His mother and father, though, would not. That was part of the reason why he had been sitting in his car in silence for so long. He wasn’t prepared to drive home and face them, nor had he been ready to pick up the phone and make the call that he made after every event he participated in. Frustration finally overwhelming him, Jeremiah punched the steering wheel and let out a heavy sigh.
“God DAMN it…”
He took one more deep breath into his lungs, calming himself, and reached for his phone. His fingers moved rapidly across the touch screen, searching for the contact information and pressing the call button and then the speaker button before setting his phone down on the dashboard. Everything was silent except for the loud, ominous buzz of the phone ringing, sending his anxiety into overdrive until finally the noise was silenced when the call was answered on the other end.
“Jer, we are S-”
“I know, Ma. You’re disappointed in me. I let you and pop down. I’m sorry. I thought I was good enough to make it here, just for a second I thought I was, but I let you all down.”
Ah, yes. There they were. Emotions. Those terrible things he had been trying to bury deep down and not let overtake him. Just like that they had snuck up on him, bringing water to the corners of his eyes. Yes, water. Not tears. Never tears. At that moment it was all just too much for a twenty three year old kid to handle on his own, fighting to figure out his place in the world, fighting to keep his mother in good spirit, fighting her cancer for her. Every match won seemed like it was one battle in a war against that horrible disease that they claimed victory over. Every loss seemed like a shot to the stomach, a battle lost in that same war. Lately, it seemed like the victories affected her less and less, and the defeats more and more. He had had a shot to truly get her back in the fight and he had blown it.
Fuck.
“Jer, son. You didn’t let any of us down. You don’t know how proud we are of you, going out there and giving it your all. That match should have been yours if it wasn’t for that other man.”
“Your father is right, Jer. You have never made us more proud of you than you did tonight. You didn’t just let that Dick Devereaux get away with what he did. You stood up and you said enough is enough. That’s how you stop men like that and I’m proud of you for doing it. He didn’t deserve to be in that match.”
What could he possibly say to that? They were proud of him? For losing? He hated to lose more than he loved to win. It stung. Deep down it ate at his very core. Yeah, it was part of the business but if he ever got to the point where he could brush off a loss as if it were nothing, that would be the day he retired.
“Yeah. Well. I shouldn’t have done that. Dick worked as hard as everyone else did to get in that match and I took that opportunity from him just like he took it from me. That’s not who I am. That’s not who you raised me to be."
“Son, we raised you to be a man who didn’t take any shit from anyone. That’s what we saw tonight.”
“If you hadn’t done what you did, who else would he have found a way to cheat out of a win? I think those two ladies should be saying thank you to you.”
That made him smile, and he knew that she had known it would.
“Yeah, ma. I’m sure Aidan and Ash are just itching to say thank you to me.”
“You coming home tonight, son?”
Home? Yes, that sounded good right about then. To get out of the city and back into a world where the air was fresh, and pure, and the weight of his own expectations could be forgotten for a short period of time.
“Yeah. Thought maybe I’d stop by and see Jenny tomorrow morning.”
Jeremiah smiled, feeling the sudden change in mood over the phone as his parents both inhaled deeply, trying to figure out how to express their pleasure without making him feel pressured in any way, shape or form.
“I’m sure she’d love to see you again, dear.”
He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you guys soon, ok?
They said their goodbyes and soon enough the phone call was ended, silence filling the car once more. It was then that the full weight of his failure that evening hit him. All he could do was lay his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat and let it wash over him.
