Frozen Atlantic
League Member
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2007
- Messages
- 202
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 38
Teresa pays the cabbie, and he doesn't wait for wellwishing. He kicks up dust over the concrete as he drives off, and Teresa stands in the snow-packed driveway, teeth already chattering in the cold. She stomps across the ice, leans against the door, and knocks.
This, for all practical purposes, is home.
Her mother answers it.
"Teresa? Ven adentro, mija! How long have you been in Toronto?" They kiss on the cheek, and Teresa steps inside.
"A few hours. My house burned down right before Crashmas."
"What? Was it an accident, or -"
"The inspectors think it was arson. This lockbox was left in the wreckage, and I haven't seen it before." Teresa reaches into her bag and pulls out a heavy lockbox, snapping it open. There are a series of photographs, all of them are of her. Most are in ring, although one or two are from those official photoshoots they make everyone on the roster do. But some are candid shots from strange angles. A couple looks like they were taken from hidden cameras from inside her house. They aren't sexual, but they're up close, in repose, without makeup, disturbingly intimate. "And there's a note to the side. Destroy What Has Been. Create What Will Be. Your Adoring Public. Dunno if it's some convoluted wrestling headgame or something... else..."
"I'm so sorry." Melissa Cordova's smart enough not to bother suggesting alternatives to having the **** beaten out of you on a bi-monthly basis.
"S'ok." Teresa grins and ruffles the shorter woman's hair. "I only got that place with the NFW money, and that's not going away. Most of my stuff's still here, anyway."
She crosses over the the living room, plops down on a familiar couch and turns on the TV. Her preset channels are still in the thing.
"I liked being here, Mom. Fewer problems. Now I'm up to my neck in them. This guy Legion, he won't stop interfering in my business until I go all Psycho Q and disembowel him or something. There's Rook Black, and he's... well, that gets more complicated by the hour. Eventually, there's Dan Ryan and President Miles, but that won't be my problem for quite a while. Oh, and I still have to recover my Minion and take over the world. That's still on the to-do list."
"What about Sean Stevens?"
Teresa arches her eyebrows and stretches back on the couch, only slightly surprised that her mother watches ESEN. "A bothersome little boy. Nothing else. Either he wants the line on the resume, in which case he'll take the triple threat or handicap or whatever it'll be, or he wants to be thought of as the best, in which case he'll want to fight me one on one on the big stage..."
"But?"
"But, whatever he chooses, he still has to fight me. That's where I make the choices."
"Ah. Well, I'm proud of you. You're the only undefeated person on the roster. You're also the only woman."
She shrugs and glances at Spongebob on the TV. "You are not your reproductive organs. I'm partly undefeated because wrestlers are stupid and lazy and would rather babble about whether I'm a B or C cup then actually say or do anything of substance. And I'm not proud of how I handled it. I sounded shrill and stupid. I wallowed in his level in an attempt to make him understand his inadequacy instead of just killing him. I was better than him, but on the same plane, so..." She sighs. "Maybe I am the organs here. Obtaining power over a company or a conflict or a person... thats different from accepting responsibility for it and wielding it and living confidently in its use. And from birth, women are taught -"
Her mother interrupts with a snort. "You're saying you aren't arrogant enough?"
"That's not what I mean." She deliberates her choice of words for a while. "I can beat him in his world. But he can't even breathe in mine."
It's abstract, but Melissa at least pretends to understand what it's all about. "Who to love and who to hate. What to bend, and what to break... the life of the mind is an interesting one, isn't it?"
Teresa stops rigidly and focuses on her mother.
"It sure is."
They stare at each other for a long time.
"I'm going to bed."
This, for all practical purposes, is home.
Her mother answers it.
"Teresa? Ven adentro, mija! How long have you been in Toronto?" They kiss on the cheek, and Teresa steps inside.
"A few hours. My house burned down right before Crashmas."
"What? Was it an accident, or -"
"The inspectors think it was arson. This lockbox was left in the wreckage, and I haven't seen it before." Teresa reaches into her bag and pulls out a heavy lockbox, snapping it open. There are a series of photographs, all of them are of her. Most are in ring, although one or two are from those official photoshoots they make everyone on the roster do. But some are candid shots from strange angles. A couple looks like they were taken from hidden cameras from inside her house. They aren't sexual, but they're up close, in repose, without makeup, disturbingly intimate. "And there's a note to the side. Destroy What Has Been. Create What Will Be. Your Adoring Public. Dunno if it's some convoluted wrestling headgame or something... else..."
"I'm so sorry." Melissa Cordova's smart enough not to bother suggesting alternatives to having the **** beaten out of you on a bi-monthly basis.
"S'ok." Teresa grins and ruffles the shorter woman's hair. "I only got that place with the NFW money, and that's not going away. Most of my stuff's still here, anyway."
She crosses over the the living room, plops down on a familiar couch and turns on the TV. Her preset channels are still in the thing.
"I liked being here, Mom. Fewer problems. Now I'm up to my neck in them. This guy Legion, he won't stop interfering in my business until I go all Psycho Q and disembowel him or something. There's Rook Black, and he's... well, that gets more complicated by the hour. Eventually, there's Dan Ryan and President Miles, but that won't be my problem for quite a while. Oh, and I still have to recover my Minion and take over the world. That's still on the to-do list."
"What about Sean Stevens?"
Teresa arches her eyebrows and stretches back on the couch, only slightly surprised that her mother watches ESEN. "A bothersome little boy. Nothing else. Either he wants the line on the resume, in which case he'll take the triple threat or handicap or whatever it'll be, or he wants to be thought of as the best, in which case he'll want to fight me one on one on the big stage..."
"But?"
"But, whatever he chooses, he still has to fight me. That's where I make the choices."
"Ah. Well, I'm proud of you. You're the only undefeated person on the roster. You're also the only woman."
She shrugs and glances at Spongebob on the TV. "You are not your reproductive organs. I'm partly undefeated because wrestlers are stupid and lazy and would rather babble about whether I'm a B or C cup then actually say or do anything of substance. And I'm not proud of how I handled it. I sounded shrill and stupid. I wallowed in his level in an attempt to make him understand his inadequacy instead of just killing him. I was better than him, but on the same plane, so..." She sighs. "Maybe I am the organs here. Obtaining power over a company or a conflict or a person... thats different from accepting responsibility for it and wielding it and living confidently in its use. And from birth, women are taught -"
Her mother interrupts with a snort. "You're saying you aren't arrogant enough?"
"That's not what I mean." She deliberates her choice of words for a while. "I can beat him in his world. But he can't even breathe in mine."
It's abstract, but Melissa at least pretends to understand what it's all about. "Who to love and who to hate. What to bend, and what to break... the life of the mind is an interesting one, isn't it?"
Teresa stops rigidly and focuses on her mother.
"It sure is."
They stare at each other for a long time.
"I'm going to bed."