Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, no disrespect is intended
Melancholy
The two worst times of the year to travel are when it is blazing hot, and when it is freezing cold. Since we're on the road all year long, that leaves roughly four weeks of spring, and four weeks of fall when traveling is actually pleasant. Unfortunately the four weeks of spring had come and long gone by the time the dreaded change was made. Sure, it was something I had a hand in orchestrating, but I guess it was a matter of looking better on paper than it did in person. My creature comforts were sorely tried, and I felt like I had cut off my nose to spite my face.
The muggy heat pressed in like a blanket that hadn't stayed in the dryer long enough and was dumped over my head as I trudged from the rental to the motel. Lady Luck was on my side, the air-conditioner was already humming when I flopped down on the bed. It was only a two hour drive from Utica to Watertown, and I smirked as I heard his voice in my head, Two hours? I can make it in an hour and change. And he could, he always delivered on whatever he said.
He wasn't here though, he was three hours away in Buffalo, and likely pacing the floor as is his wont before a high-profile match. I sighed ruefully, and turned my face into the blast of cool air. Time enough for the drive tomorrow, tonight I would allow myself to indulge in memories.
----
I still remember the first night we roomed together. Early August 2002. I had just been traded from Smackdown to Raw, but there was still Global Warning to contend with. Lord forbid I miss yet another chance for Adam to rile the fans up by explaining what a "wanker" is. Some things never change, I was ordered to make the jaunt to Australia, like it or not.
David was new on the crew, barely three months past his debut. I knew who he was, Cornette had touted him to me the year before when I was down at OVW for The Last Dance. He'll be maineventing Wrestlemania within five years. Cornette's a lot of things, but one thing I've always known is that he knows the business. Perhaps the bumbling Leviathan was lost between the egos of Undertaker, Kane, and Page in that match, but if JC saw greatness there, then I tried my best to see it too.
The trouble with him was that he was tentative. He was back in Louisville, and he still was here in Australia. He kept to himself, "hiding his light under a bushel" as the old saying went. Odd for a man as intimidating as he was.
Through the usual chain of booking and travel screw-ups, all was in line for my inclusion on this trip -- except for a hotel room. I was too travel-weary to cause a scene, and it turned out it wasn't necessary after all. David offered me his spare bed.
Too tired to even brush my teeth, I followed him into the room and collapsed across one of the beds, didn't even bother to undress. I was nearly asleep when he emerged from the bathroom stark naked, and slipped beneath the covers on the other bed. I raised up on an elbow and looked at him. He spared me a glance and mumbled, If I'm insulting your sense of decency, let me know, but I see no reason to change my sleeping habits because you're in the room with me.
He wasn't as tentative as I had thought. I roused myself up enough to strip out of my jeans and sweatshirt, mumbled that I was the guest here and he should do whatever the hell he wanted, turned my back and went straight to sleep.
After we returned, he went his way, and I went mine. When our paths crossed at pay-per-views I made it a point to track him down, follow his progress. A friendship grew between us. Little by little he shed that hesitancy, and progressed into the force to be reckoned with that Cornette had prophesied.
Come that November, he was part of Raw. The fledgling friendship grew, we began sharing long car rides together. Desultory late night conversations that ended with me dozing off as he rocketed through the night gave way to rousing discussions about technique, matches, psychology. Before long they branched out into family, he gave me invaluable tips about pregnant women, child rearing, and dealing with all that family bullshit that sometimes bogs you down.
Before long, we shared a room because we wanted too.
----
The cell phone's little song of defeat roused me from my reverie. Out in the sticks it goes into analog roaming mode, and that tends to eat up the battery fast, it was dead, and me without my charging cable. I tucked it away inside the pocket of my traveling bag. I'd wait until morning to call him. There was the off chance that he'd managed to drift to sleep even though I know that sleep usually eluded him on nights like this. I shifted to get more comfortable, went back to my reminiscing.
----
Bitter cold, dead of winter. Some things just really eat away at you when you make your living on the road. Even though David was the master at icy road conditions, my nerves will still shot by the time we made it through the ice storm and checked into the rinky-dink motel in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Too many hard fought matches, too many late nights, I just needed one straw to break the camel's back.
The straw came in the form of a night clerk informing us that the motel was overbooked, and threatening to shuttle us down the road to the next town with some cheap-ass vouchers for a free breakfast in the morning. Tired and beat as I was, I managed to rile up a good old Canadian rage and inform them we weren't moving. Eventually they managed to find a room, but it only had one bed. David shrugged good-naturedly, said we'd take it.
I have always said that Winnipeg winters made a body tough, and if you lived through them in your youth you never felt the cold again. Never, that is, until faced with an ice storm and a heater that doesn't work, piled on top of too many nights away from home, too many back body drops from a worker who can't tell his head from his ass, and having to share a bed.
David let me shower first, but even that didn't warm me up. I climbed into the bed, piled all the covers and my coat on top of me, and still I shivered hard enough that it felt like my bones were rattling. I was so miserable I didn't even hear him come into the room, didn't even feel the bed dip with his weight. I clung to the edge of the bed, muttered obscenities, and shook.
A strong arm hooked around my middle, pulled me back against his solid frame, and warmth oozed from his body into mine. He held me tight, even though I tried to struggle away, admonished me to lie still and sleep. It felt like one giant heating pad pressed from head to toe, I relaxed against him in bliss.
That was the beginning, there was no turning back from that night.
----
Decisions that look so good in the balmy days of April are hard to fathom in the harsh light of July. The blow had been softened that night in Anaheim with the promise of Japan, and cross-promotion dark matches. Several weeks went by until this uncomfortable bed in Upstate New York.
Creative had intended to send me to Smackdown instead of Jay. Send me as the tailor-made heel to antagonize the shiny new babyface Champ. Somehow they seemed to think it would be a natural, we had shone together before.
I trumped them with the ace up my sleeve, refused to enter negotiations over my contract, dug in my heels and said I'd let the thing expire if I didn't get the Cena shot instead. Dangled the bait of Fozzy over their heads until they fell into line. Now that the die was cast I would sign their extension. I wasn't ready to give up wrestling just yet.
Staring me in the face was the cold hard fact that push had come to shove, and I had given something up. Early morning light filtered around the shoddy curtains. I raised my hand up, the skin was still too tender to shove my real wedding band down over it. The vivid ink was easy to see in the dimness of the room, a bittersweet reminder.
It wasn't forever, I was sure of that. David needed to shine on his own, away from me. At least that's what I told myself.
On mornings like this though, with the hot and lonely drive stretching before me, I wondered if I had made the right decision. I rolled to the side and pulled the motel phone down beside me, listened while the sleepy clerk put the call through. An early morning pep talk, a promise to be there that night before his match. One way or another, we'd weather through this.
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