The Strong One
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry that I failed you, but at the same time, I’m sorry I proved you right. I’m sorry that I was such a bitch of a daughter and that I couldn’t protect you from her. I’m sorry that you stopped loving me… no; I’m sorry that I made you stop loving me. I should’ve stayed and tried harder to save you from her, but I didn’t. I had to do it; I had to be big bad Lucy… and I failed. I miss you already, Daddy… I miss you so much because I’ll never get to hear you breathe again; I’ll never get to tell you how much I love you and I’ll never get to feel your arms around me. When I left, I didn’t care about any of that; I hated you because you told me that I would fail on my own. You hated what I was and what I do and I couldn’t ever explain it to you. I hope that in Heaven, you’ll understand the hell that I have willingly put myself into.”
I look at his body, and I try to fight back the tears. I see my younger sisters crying, and I see her, sitting there with her bleach blonde hair and her inflated breasts, inflated like her ego, stroking the small poodle and crying tears that aren’t even coming out her eyes. I guess that’s why she wore a vale. A funeral isn’t a good experience, and with my little sisters, this is an occurrence that has happened a few times now. Seems like every time we turn around, someone else we grew up loving is dying. I failed them because I left them, and now that Daddy’s gone, she may have to raise them. I put my arms around them, but they’re cold as they look at me. Funerals can also be a time of resentment; I know she’s after his money and I know they’re too young to understand. Maybe she turned him against me; maybe they’ve already made up their minds that I abandoned them, when I was just trying to find own way. Maybe they think I came back for his money because I failed, but I didn’t. I see his siblings, some of them around my age because affairs with much younger women that result in children out of wedlock are so common in my family. They’re off to the side telling jokes.
You ever lose someone you love? You ever lose someone you love twice? There’s so much you could’ve said when they were alive, but you pushed yourself away or you let them push you away, and now, you’ve got to believe there’s a God and a Heaven and that they’re listening to your thoughts and words as you say everything that you should’ve said when they were alive. Do you know what that’s like? You sit in the hospital with them and they can’t hear you and if they can, you lie to them and tell them that everything will be alright when every real instinct inside of you is saying that they will die and you will be sad. But you can’t be sad because sadness is all over you; you have to be strong. You have to be strong for everyone else. Do you know that feeling, or do you deny that you’ve ever known it. I know that feeling because it’s happened to me.
My father and I, we always were so close when I was younger, but I got older and he got involved with another woman, only a few years older than I am, this happened after my Mom passed away… and then, we just weren’t close anymore. I’m the oldest of the girls; Daddy always wanted a son, but he got me, and I tried to be as much a son to him as I could. I tried to play sports; I tried to take an interest in watching baseball, as boring as it was. I did this because he loved baseball; I tried to play basketball because I was a tall girl, but I would get into fights too often. Anything physical, sport or otherwise, I would end up in a fight. I was tall and big and arrogant. I was every bit the rich bitch because I maybe I knew, that no matter how hard I tried to get my father’s approval, he wouldn’t give it to me fully. The first time I ever punched another girl, I broke her jaw and nose with one shot. So, decided to do something that he didn’t agree with… I decided to become a fighter. I had grown to 6’ and about 180 lbs; I have large breasts, large strong thighs, a flat stomach, long straight black hair and blue eyes. I wrestle under the name Lucy Thunder and I have a tag team partner named Lara Lightening; she’s got shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, a round face, she’s about 5’4” 125 lbs, really smart and friendly and that contrasts with my stoic nature. They paired us up because ironically enough, I look kind of like Lucy Lawless aka Xena, and Lara looks like her partner, Gabrielle.
You would think that as hard as I tried to be like a son to him, and as much complaining as he did about wanting his last name to continue and wanting a son to inherit his fortune, he would’ve been okay with me fighting… that’s when he wanted me to be a girl again. But you see, I had found what made me happy. Driving the Bentley, laying on the beach, shopping for purses, eating caviar… that life was boring. I needed something more; I needed the release. And telling him about it was the worst experience of my life, worse than any cage fight I’d had, worse than moving out, worse than the water at my studio apartment being turned off and all those eviction notices I’ve been getting, worse than turning on the television and seeing women who are far less the fighters than I am, getting title shots in bigger and better promotions. He would hate that about me, especially when the fed I wrestled in (I did cage fighting during the week and wrestled on the weekends) got a deal on a cable access station and some of his friends saw me get beat. I would try to wear makeup and dress in all sorts of nice clothes, but once I got my eyebrow busted against Ivory Tower, I couldn’t hide that. Then Debra came along, stole my father’s heart, said she was pregnant, “fell down the stairs” (can you see me rolling my eyes?) had a “miscarriage” and married my father with no prenuptial agreement.
I had been around through all of this; I’d watch her work out on the stairmaster and watch her with all of those kickboxing drills. I confronted him about her, but he just got angry with me. He was determined to have a kid with this bitch who spent his money and had all of his bank accounts changed to her name. And you’re wondering how I let her do that… well, he was very much in control of this. He wasn’t senile, and if he was, no lawyer or judge or medical staff member could tell. That was another thing; she had wanted him admitted several times, but he was ruled able. I decided to move out after we had a huge argument and he suffered a heart attack. I knew I had messed up. That night, I was given a title shot in the small fed I was wrestling in, and I left him to lose a match to an opponent named Quicksilver who had the flu and was only wrestling me so that she wouldn’t get stripped of the title due to all of her nagging injuries… another old lady in the business who couldn’t cut it anymore, but had the sickness for fighting and just wouldn’t let go. I just wasn’t myself that night, and with our shows, you never know who’s going to show up from a bigger promotion to watch you.
So, I moved out and with no money, I had to double up my work dates. I even took a job in the deli (seems fresh out of fighting movie, doesn’t it? Seems like if you’re a poor fighter or wrestler, the deli is the place for you)… I tried being a dominatrix, but I just wasn’t into that, especially since one of the girls I was feuding with, Ms. Stress, was using the dominatrix gimmick. I was doing anything within reason to make money. I went back home a few days before he died; my sisters were looking at me like I was something foreign to them. I guess I had failed them too because I was always there for them. Funerals were common in our family and I would try to make them fun… you’ve got all these people showing up at your house dressed in black with their gray faces and sloppy kisses and everyone looks sad. I tried to make it fun, but I had neglected them. In our family, when someone dies, they have a funeral at the church, then they bring the body to the house for the repast, then they bring it to the cemetery or bury it on the property for the dismissal. My sisters didn’t understand and I had left that life because I hated it. They were growing up to be girly girls; who was I, but someone who gave them up for nights of getting beaten on, coming back to an empty refrigerator with busted knuckles and a bruised belly or a taped ankle and a black eye. I gave up all that money and the glamorous life for eviction notices and a food stamp card. I used to ride horses and travel the world; now, my friends are rats and roaches… and the girls who get paid to beat me up or get beat up with me. The good thing though is… I can intimidate my landlord
“I need to speak with you, Lucy,” Debra said with a voice that had no sadness and no care in it whatsoever
“About what?” I said, standing to my full 6’. She was 5’6”, so I towered over her. Lara was there too, but she was just there to support me. She used to be a part of a traveling circus; she would wrestle all comers and most of the time, she’d win.
“Well,” Debra said, rolling her eyes and putting the poodle down, “We need to talk about the situation with the money. It’s better now than later. He’s gone; there’s nothing we can do about it. He left a will for the distribution of his assets. Now, really I don’t have to adhere to the will because there was no prenup in our marriage contract, and you haven’t been around anyway. You said you didn’t want any part of your father; he told me that. So, you wrote yourself out of the will and none of the money you’ve been getting doing whatever it is you’ve been doing has gone to any of the expenses here.”
“Is this the right time for all of this, Debra? With my sisters and family here? I don‘t think you‘re in line,” I said, narrowing my eyes and trying to fight back the urge to rip out her blonde extensions on the spot.
“As I was saying,” she continued, voice getting louder as my father’s body lay only five feet away, “I’m in the front of the line. The time to discuss this is now. Everyone is here; everyone has a stake in this money according to the will; so, we need to get this over with.”
“Yeah Luce,” Nathanial said… Nathanial a so-called professional gambler and was married to my aunt, then she passed away and he started having an affair with Debra. I know this because I saw them together. I tried to tell my father this; I really did hint at it, but after his heart attack, I just couldn’t come out and let him know. Looking back on it, maybe he did know and he just wanted out. I didn’t know what to do; they were all looking at me and they could see that I was upset.
“What right do you have to come here anyway?” Wanda, my youngest aunt, always jealous of the older siblings, always trying to suck up to my grandfather.
“You left,” Debra said, stepping even closer to me, “You left and you weren’t even mentioned in the will. He had given up on you and the way you were embarrassing him.”
“I want to see the will for myself,” I said, stepping closer to her
“I don’t have to show you anything,” she responded, poking her chest out and I couldn’t help but look down her cleavage because it was so obviously there. I thought about what it would look like if I just grabbed her up by her throat and tossed her across the room. I thought what how stupid I would look in front of my family and most importantly, my little sisters… I have to be strong for them. I’m the strong one, but I knew there was no damn will because I burned it in the fireplace myself. Why? Because I was angry at my father… and because there was nothing in it for my little sisters. Debra would get all of it. She reached into an envelope and pulled out this handwritten piece of paper. She mockingly held it in front of my face. It was in her handwriting.
“When he was in the hospital, he dictated to me what to put in it,” she said, “There’s something for everyone, but not you… unless we work something out. The Bentley is in your name… I want it and then, I‘ll change the will to give you something to get you out of the… (laughing) shithole studio apartment you‘re in.”
“Let’s go talk this over,” I said, grabbing Debra by her elbow and guiding her to the east wing of the house. We had a large screen room and it was raining outside, but the sun was out. They say that when this is happening, the devil is beating his wife, well, I wasn’t the devil, but I put Debra in a headlock, bending her over and using my biceps to put her dome in a vice of pain. I wasn’t saying a word; I was just letting her experience some of my world. She was moaning like a little baby; I was relishing the opportunity to take some of my frustration out on her, though I still felt so guilty. She gave me a few weak forearms to my kidneys and surprised me by being able to move me into the screen, but I held on. I didn’t realize she was so strong, but I knew I was much stronger and tightened my grip. Then she elbowed me to the stomach, about an inch above my navel. It took some of the air out of me because I didn’t tighten my abs, but I took a deep breath and got it back. Once she realized that my grip didn’t tighten back up immediately, she must have figured she had hurt me, so she elbowed me two more times. The first one got me right below my navel; she may have been aiming for a crotch shot; I kept my groan in because I didn’t want to give her confidence. In the ring or the cage, when I take a shot, I groan loudly not so much because it hurts (though it does) but to will my way through it. The next elbow hit me in the side because I turned. I loosened my grip and that gave her some space; she was able to reach up and grab me by my hair and pull it back. I gritted my teeth and my body was bent back as I tried to steady myself on my heels. Then pain exploded in my stomach as her fist buried itself in me, doubling me over with an “OOF!!”
She grabbed me by my ears and threw me down on my side. She kicked off her shoes and I noticed the pink on her toes as she kicked me right in the stomach, forcing an “OHHHH!!” from me as I looked up at her and she smiled down. I clutched my stomach and gasped for air; I couldn’t believe this was happening; I couldn’t believe she was winning. She stuck her pretty small foot into my mouth and I gagged instantly on her toes… they tasted like strawberries and cream and I always knew about those pedicures with flavors, but why anyone would want to flavor her feet, I have no idea. She stepped on my face and mashed my nose while stomping hard on my crotch with her other foot. I was coughing and I tried to turn over on my side, but she stepped on my long black hair with one foot, then kicked me in the stomach with the other foot, forcing an “AUGH!!” from me as my eyes turned and I looked at her silhouette. Three more kicks and three more “OUGH’s” from me and I was almost in a fetal position. I couldn’t get my air back and she stomped hard on my side, then pulled me up by my hair. I couldn’t believe her strength for a girl much smaller than I was and she sent me face first into the screen. As I turned around, she gave me a front kick to my stomach, forcing out an “OUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!” from me as I doubled over into a backfist that sent me up on my toes. If it wasn’t for the screen being there, I would’ve gone down. Then she bent in and rammed her shoulder into my stomach; I felt the wind rushed out of me in a “ULF!!” but it was the opening I was hoping for… and one I didn’t expect. I wrapped my arms underneath her and interlocked my fingers on her stomach, lifted her up, flipped her over and sent her down on the floor… power bomb.
I heard her make an “uhhhhh” sound when she hit and I saw that she’d ripped off the front of my dress when she got flipped; I also saw that her breasts were out. I kicked off my shoes and after taking a moment to double over and hold my stomach, I moved in to give her a kick right to her crotch… and then, I looked up… the family was staring at me… my little sisters were looking at me, in my ripped black dress with a large white bra for my large breasts, my flat toned stomach and my upside down triangular shaped navel on down to my strong legs, my big butt, and my small feet, small for a six foot tall girl like me with my toenails painted black. They were looking at me, but my tag partner Lara, she was smiling. Then I saw her frown and I looked down at Debra just in time to see the bottom of her bare foot crash into my nose. I staggered back, trying to get my balance, but she got up and tackled me, driving her shoulder deep into my stomach, as I clawed and landed on my back, thumping my head on the marble floor and she tried to pin my wrists down. Big mistake; she may have practiced kickboxing, but I was the wrestler here. I squeezed both her wrists, and she let out an “Eeeee!!” I wrapped my legs around her waist and squeezed hard, forcing a loud “Ahhh!!! from her and I rolled myself on top of her. I started banging her head on the marble floor over and over again.
I felt Lara’s hands grabbing me around my waist and pulling me off of Debra, but I couldn’t stop… I can’t tell you who’s fault it is that my Daddy died. I don’t know if it was mine or hers or his or some combination, but in every slam of that blonde bitch’s head, I put all the pain and guilt I’ve suffered… not in the ring, not in the cage, not for the eviction notices, or having to boil water to take a bath or losing my mother or my father or my grandparents, or losing the love and understanding of my little sisters… no. Every pounding was the pain I’ve felt, the rejection my father gave me that I passed on to myself for trying to be something that I wasn’t.
When I snapped out of it, Lara had me in a full nelson body scissors combo… I taught her that submission hold. She had me tight and I looked her bare baby blue painted toenails as she tightened the hold on me to make sure that I wouldn’t try anything. Like I said, Lara was shy and like my apprentice, but she was still my friend; she kept me from taking it too far. My family checked on Debra… her nose was bleeding. I stood up and looked at her as she looked at me, a beaten look on her face; I knew what I had to do. I turned and started walking to Lara’s car. I wasn’t planning on ever coming back to my father’s house.
Sometimes, you’ve got to just be who you are, and understand that people aren’t going to accept it, no matter what you do. But while they’re here, be honest with them and say the things that you really mean. Even though they’re adults, in the utopian sense of family and friendship, you have some obligation to their safety… but don’t ever allow your dreams to suffocate under their expectations for you. To paraphrase Judy Garland, “don't let their limitations limit you.” Don’t wait for them to die to start living your life. My life is the ring; my life is the cage; and yes, my life is working three jobs and trying to make ends meet. Lara’s moving in with me and that’ll help; we’re even thinking of traveling the country and working for indy feds until we get a big break. I let Debra and that rich world go away. This is who I am and it may not be what you like, but it’s good enough for me. Sometimes, your trash is your treasure, you’ve just got to stop throwing it away.
THE END…
