Title: Cure for the Itch
Author: Oxygen
Rating: PG-ish – deals with disease and
death.
Disclaimer: I don't own stuff that isn't
mine. I don't make money that isn't mine. It's simple, really.
Author's Note: Hey, I'm lame. This is all I
changed, I just wanted to know your guys' opinion on whether or not I should
add to the story.
Living life as a part of the World Wrestling Federation was getting
more and more difficult. Whispered rumors ran rampant throughout the company,
from the interns working at Titan to the backstage crew, even the wrestlers
were growing uneasy about the current situation. The most popular story was
that Vince was doing something that caused unrest in his very soul, something
that he was being forced to do against his will, something evil.
Of course, in reality, Vince was just depressed. In his office, he
leaned back in his chair and glanced around. Letting out a deep sigh, he realized
that he saw nothing worthwhile. What's the point of all of this? he wondered.
Day in a day out. Meeting after meeting after mind bogglingly dull meeting.
Putting up with the recent surge of attitude in the company wore him down. He'd
just finished talking to J.R. about releasing some of the talent. There's just
too many of them, he had complained. He didn't envy J.R.'s position at all. Jim
had to inform people when they were being fired. Sticking his hand into the
mess that was his desk, Vince grabbed the first thing he felt and hurled it at
the door. It was a small stuffed animal that landed with a thud, harming
nothing on its flight to the door. Vince's secretary opened the door, hoping
that everything was all right. Vince told her that everything was fine, and
would she please toss him the stuffed animal on the floor? More lies, he
thought. He could imagine her on her coffee break, gossiping with the other
secretaries, saying that Vince had degenerated to stage where he was throwing
things. Well, for once, she would be right.
Vince looked down at the teddy bear smiling up at him. It made him feel
guilty for throwing it and yet happy to see it again at the same time. He
turned it over and read to himself the short letter pinned to its back.
Dear Mr. McMahon,
Thank you for coming to visit me. It made me very happy. Also, I had a
wonderful time at the show yesterday. Please say hi to the Rock for me, if it's
not too much trouble. Thank you again,
Lilliana Marie Hudson
Vince remembered the little girl with alarming clarity. Everything from
the way her face lit up when he entered the room to the numerous needles and
machines that she was hooked up to. She was a little girl in stature, but
mature beyond her 13 years, something not reflected in the childlike letter and
scrawl that was attached to the bear. But that had to be expected. The cancer
ate relentlessly away at her brain. Such resilience and courage in one so small
earned her a permanent place in Vince's heart, as well as many of the wrestlers
who had met her. When Vince first saw her, he was carrying an armload of gifts,
which Lilliana had eagerly looked over. She had made him sign a magazine for
her older brother and ordered him to sit. There were tears in her eyes, some of
happiness, some of worry.
"Mr. McMahon, please listen to me. I think somewhere inside, you must
be a very nice man to be visiting me. It's not good to be mean and cold
hearted. The world is too full of cruel people who are bitter and out to do
harm to others. It's up to each of us to make a difference, even if it's
helping a little old lady across the street. I will never get to be a little
old lady. But I think you will grow to be very old, but if you don't change
now, you will be a very resentful old man. People who are bitter are the
world's most irritating itch. You scratch and scratch at them, but you can't
get rid of them. You don't want to have regrets when you look back at your
life. Can I ask you to do one more favor for me, Mr. McMahon?" He nodded,
overwhelmed at her candidness about her disease. "Please, when you get home,
talk to your son. Work out your differences. Say you are sorry and apologize to
him. And forgive him. He's your son. Nothing will ever change that, and you
don't want to lose him. Love him. For me?" It was then that Vince felt the
tears roll down his cheeks, in the present and in his memory.
"Of course I will, Lilliana," he had said, taking her fragile hands
into his. This had been unexpected, but had come at a time when Vince's
character on television had been furious with Shane's character. And backstage,
Vince really was upset with Shane. Tension had been building within the McMahon
family, pitting parents against offspring over something petty that, now, Vince
couldn't even remember. Vince took the little girl's words to heart. "I
promise. The world needs more people like you." He was surprised by the short
burst of cynical laughter that came out of her.
"Why do you say that? Dead people aren't any use at all." Vince was
shocked.
"Lilliana, now you listen to me. I think you see yourself as already
dead because of your cancer. But when I look at you, I see a girl full of life.
But her mind has been poisoned. Not by some disease, but by bitterness at her
situation. Now, the WWF is doing a show near here in about three weeks. And I
fully expect to see you there, okay?" Lilliana nodded solemnly, and Vince made
her pinky swear. It made him feel childish, but it also assured him that he
would see her live for at least three more weeks. No one would ever dare to break
a pinky swear with Vincent K. McMahon. Well, no one ever had, at least.
Vince went home that night and made amends with his children. Through
her innocent acceptance of the WWF's world, Lilliana saved his company and his
family. He shared the story of Lilliana with Linda, Shane, and Stephanie,
describing every detail, every heart wrenching moment that he spent with her.
The family grew closer; Stephanie and Shane saw a side of their father that
rarely surfaced. But somehow, the mere mention of this resilient little girl
brought tears to the man's eyes, and Steph and Shane saw him through newly
opened eyes.
Back at present day Titan, Vince sank lower in his chair. He looked at
the teddy bear, turning it over in his hands. Remembering the show three weeks
later, he smiled. Lilliana had made it, but just barely. She was alive, with a
spark in her eyes that told Vince that she would never quit living again. She
had lost a lot of weight and was pushed around in her wheelchair by her older
brother. He was her only living family, and he had introduced her to the world
of wrestling to begin with. But on this occasion, his first chance to meet with
WWF stars, he look a backseat to his little sister, something all the stars
acknowledged and respected. Lilliana amazed everyone with her sharp wit and
quick responses. Dwayne, the Rock, had told her that she would grow up to be a
very sarcastic lady. For the first time that day, she didn't have a quick
response. Vince was watching her, and knew that she was wondering if she would
ever grow to be a lady. Her eyes dulled for a second, but she quickly shook it
off. "You're right. But why be sarcastic when you can be cynical?" This evoked
a laugh from everyone, for no particular reason. At the end of the night, Lilliana was driven back to the hospital
by her brother. And in the backseat were four pairs of sunglasses (Rikishi's,
Rock's, Undertaker's, and Christian's), Grandmaster Sexay's goggles, Scotty 2
Hotty's hat, Trish's hat, Jeff Hardy's shirt, Buh Buh Ray Dudley's glasses,
three elbow pads (Matt Hardy's, Albert's, and Test's), Val Venis's tie, and a
huge stack of autographed pictures. A lot of the stuff Lilliana had insisted on
giving to her brother. Everyone was particularly generous with her because she
had inadvertently saved the unity and stability of the McMahon family and the
company, which were closely knit together. She also had three rolls of film
with her, her brother, and the wrestlers in every picture.
Lilliana never got to see the pictures developed. The day after the
event, her brother had gone to get them developed, and when he came back, he
found her in a coma. Vince visited her as often as his work would allow. Eight
months later, her brother called, telling him that Lilliana had left the
physical world. Vince, Shane and Dwayne attended her funeral. Then next day,
due to the ineptness that is the U.S. Postal Service, Vince received the teddy
bear with the letter she had written just before she lost consciousness. Vince
had thought he was drained of tears after the first time he read the letter,
but they kept coming as her read and reread the letter. Vince flipped through
his calendar and saw that Lilliana had hung on for exactly 21 days after the
initial visit. Then he cried some more.
The man that had emerged from his office that day was a completely
changed Vince. He threw himself into his work, especially charity. The amount
of autographs and merchandise the WWF gave away increased three fold.
And now, as Vince cleared his desk to make room for the bear, he
smiled. Grabbing a handful of tissue just in case, Vince walked out in search
of Dwayne. He found the man walking out of Linda's office, where he had just
finished filming a skit for next week's Raw. The Rock was feuding with a much
gentler but still ruthless Vince. He grinned broadly when he saw his boss
approach him with a matching grin.
"Hello Vince. May I ask you what has caused you to bestow your wholly
remarkable smile upon a lowly wrestler like myself?" Dwayne exaggerated the
respect he had for his boss, to the point where he was kowtowing needlessly.
"Why, yes, yes you can. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.
"Oh?" Dwayne raised a questioning eyebrow, glad that the rumors were
false and Vince was smiling once again.
"Yes. I just wanted to tell you that Lilliana says hi." With that, he
sauntered down the hall, whistling.
"I think the old man has finally lost it," Dwayne said to himself. "But
it is nice to see him smiling again." He wiped away a single tear that had slid
down his cheek and walked down the hall. He was lost in the memories of the
girl who had saved the World Wrestling Federation, and continued to do so, even
in death.
In Memoriam – Nancy Lilliana Clavel, 1985 – 1998
