003: Origin Stories [OCW]

EVERY HERO HAS AN ORIGIN STORY. If there's one thing I learned through a childhood obsession with comic books and action movies, it's that fact. Peter Parker had the spider that changed his life. Wade Wilson the cancer diagnosis.

I like to think that mine began when I was a child, when I spent four days a week at my grandparents' house, eating Sara Lee cake for a bedtime snack and watching Grammy's stash of old wrestling tapes after Grampy passed out on the couch. I watched these guys, these larger than life warriors tearing it up out there. The good guys always triumphed in the end, no matter how badly they were beaten down. I found hope in that.

See, I didn't really know I'd been born with cerebral palsy back then. Nobody ever told me. My hand was a little weird, my toes sometimes had a mind of their own – otherwise I was a pretty normal kid. I didn't get much in the way of special treatment. I always felt I had to work harder, to find a way because there wasn't anybody holding my hand along the way, doing things for me. I saw those guys who were fearless, not taking crap from anyone, and I wanted to do that. I wanted to be a hero, too.

For the last eleven years this has been my world, my daily grind. Even when I'm sidelined, the ring is always the goal fixed in my mind. I'm always working my way back into her arms and it's been this endless, euphoric blur of training and promotional videos, travel expenses and scheduled appearances. I'd been away from the real world so long that I've forgotten what normal people are supposed to do – maybe I never really understood. My family was screwed up, fractured when I was still young enough that it didn't really register as being something sad or tragic. My mom wasn't in the picture. My dad worked swing shifts and I was shuffled off to the grandparents when he was on the clock. He worked. He slept. He went back to it and that was all I ever really knew.

It's like that Harry Chapin song, isn't it? We learn from our examples, even when we think we don't have any role models to speak of. I know who mine were. At least I thought I did. Heroes don't always wear capes, don't always have all the answers. Sometimes they're just better able to weather the storms. When things stop, when things slow down for me, and I don't know what to do with myself, I'm the most self-destructive person I know. I don't really see that as a fault. More a natural side effect. A product of conditioning. Can't stop. Won't stop. Not until I see it through.

Is that where the story begins or where it ends?

Max could feel her unease even though his eyes were closed. She was watching him, pacing towards the window and back again with a cup of chai tea in her hands. He could smell the warmth of the cinnamon and cloves. He'd been feigning sleep for a half an hour, hoping that it would buy him some time. He still hadn't processed what had happened in the ring. He wasn't even sure how bad it was. Everything the medics said backstage had sailed directly over his head and he barely remembered the trip back home. Propped up now against too many pillows, he felt like a corpse dressed up in a casket. He felt all sorts of wrong. 

Rayna's stomach had been knots as his shoulder was examined. That had been hours ago and now she was ready to jump right out of her skin every time he took a breath. Exhaustion had started to settle in, but she wouldn't rest until she knew he was at ease. Sighing, she brought a hand up and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, letting him know that she'd seen right through his charade. "We missed dinner," she said softly, "if you're hungry, I can make something. Or get whatever you want."

Despite the obvious pain he was in, Max managed a small smile for her benefit. "Don't worry about that." His voice came out quieter than usual as he looked up into her eyes. She could see he was hurting, disappointed that he'd managed to pick up an injury during a match with his former tag partner Bruce Wang. She knew how much he wanted to have his first championship, to finally be the guy on top of the heap. He'd been chasing that dream since Defiant, after all.

"Can't help it," she replied.

He seemed more worried about her fretting over him than yet another in the long list of career setbacks. "You look," he hesitated for a second, considering how it might sound, "tired. Sit down, Bunny. Please?"

His pet name always made her smile and now was no exception. A tired but warm smile crossed her lips. "Okay." Rayna took a seat on the edge of the bed, setting her cup on the nightstand.

He reached for her hand even though it was with his bad one. The other was immobilized thanks to the tape holding his shoulder together. He was past the point where he was embarrassed about it. She'd seen all his flaws and hadn't batted an eye. "Thanks." The way he said it held more than just the surface meaning, but he undercut that with a soft chuckle. "You don't have to fuss over me. I'm not made of glass."

"I know I don't HAVE to, but I want to." She brought his hand to her lips and gently kissed the knuckles. "Besides," leaning in, she kissed his lips, whispering, "I enjoy it."

He felt the corners of his lips twitching towards a smile, "yeah? Does that mean I should injure myself more?" That self-deprecating humor was back with a vengeance.

"Sure. I'll be here to take care of any future bumps and bruises."

"Future..." Max shook his head slowly, "make it sound like I'm a walking disaster. I'll have you know, I'm quite athletic!" He was obviously joking, his blue eyes twinkling as he kissed her back.

Her soft smile had turned into a wide grin. "I know you are, but even the greatest athletes get a few bumps along the way. Just wanted you to know, I'll always be here."

"Always…" He averted his eyes, clearing his throat. It wasn't the first time someone had made that kind of promise. Florence was supposed to be his ride-or-die thunder buddy. They hadn't spoken in almost a year. Kasey had done her best to destroy his life after he'd confessed feelings for her. What was next? Spontaneous combustion? "I... uhh... well..." he stammered, struggling to say something meaningful instead of letting the doubts run rampant. He failed. Spectacularly.  

Rayna studied him for a moment. "Max, you okay?" His demeanor had shifted so abruptly that she was genuinely taken aback. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No." He shook his head, "I'm okay. I'm just... just a little wonky from the pain meds, I guess." The lie was so transparent, and he could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't buying it. "It's nothing. I'm just having a moment over here. That's all." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. He'd been carrying that burden around for weeks, trying to screw up the courage to take the leap. Tonight, he was going to go for it. He'd been ready to lay it all on the line and a victory would have cemented the certainty that he was doing the right thing. Now he wasn't sure but the diamond ring was burning a hole in his pocket. The longer he waited, the better. The less crazy it seemed given that they hadn't even known each other for a year. He didn't want to be laughed at for something else, something he could certainly control.

He had no stable future and if he was sidelined through the new year, there wasn't much chance they'd keep him employed. Not when the waiting list was growing by the day. It all hinged on what the specialist said on Wednesday, what the tests showed. If he was going to be forced to take that much time off, he'd give up his spot. He couldn't ask her under those circumstances.

"It..." he sighed, "it's nothing. I'm just worried about the future."

"Oh." Leaning in gently, Rayna hugged him. She needed that closeness, as though his doubts were somehow transferring over to her. When she'd seen him crash to the mat and struggle to get up, her heart had been in her throat; it had scared her more than anything else she'd ever been through. Max was a wonderful man who treated her better than she'd ever thought she deserved. "Well, I don't want you worrying about anything other than resting and getting better. I've got you and we're okay. We'll be okay and your shoulder will be fine and there's no need to panic."

"Don't panic," he smiled, unable to help it as the familiar Douglas Adams tag line fell from his lips. "Bunny," Max paused, closing his eyes for a second as he drew in a deep breath and held it. On the exhale, he decided not to go through with it. Not tonight. "You're the best."

"No," she countered, resting her hand against his cheek. There was nothing but adoration and concern in her eyes, "you are. Give it enough time and maybe the rest of the world will see it too."