Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
21st May 2019
When I were younger, my old man used to make a big deal outa the fact that we come from traveler blood, that being of gypsy decent were important to our identity an’ that we ought to be proud of the fact.
Never batted an eyelid at the idea to be honest. Tommy Cook, dirty gypo, that were what a god called in school, but a just nutted anyone who said it an’ word soon got ‘round, ya know? Don’t mess wi’ him, he’s an headcase, that sorta thing.
Why do I bring it up, you ask? As someone that’s a descendent of travelers… I fuckin’ hate travelling! Seriously. I hate it. Planes, trains, busses, cars, fuck it all! I get it. I get that ya can’t go anywhere without having to travel, but Christ on a bike, does it have to be such a pain in the fucking arse to do it?
Airport security is a ball ache, then there’s layovers for big trips, cancellations, and being stuck in a flying tin can for hours at a time, basking in people’s stale farts? Not something anyone with their right mind should ever enjoy.
My hatred for flying is why I chose to take a train from Toronto to Ottawa instead of flying there. Four an’ half hours instead of around one, but at least ya could open a fuckin’ window! Why’s this important ya may be asking?
Emerge #23 were on the Monday, in Etibocoke which is a part of Toronto. And Breakdown were in Ottawa two days later. Now a don’t really give a fuck about Breakdown to be honest, they ain’t paying me even if they technically own the pricks who do… but wi’ the schedules as they were, it were the perfect opportunity to finally get that drink – or what were gonna turn out to be dinner instead – wi’ Marie Jones after she’d first asked me out for coffee back in late April.
“Don’t take this the wrong way love, but ya look knackered right now,” I said to her shortly after we’d been sat down in some quiet little Italian on the outskirts of Ottawa. I picked somewhere a little outa town to spare her blushes and not have to explain being seen wi’ me if anyone sore her. “No offence meant, like…”
I weren’t trying to insult her, a mean she still looked bloody gorgeous an’ everything, but she did look knackered and I were concerned she were gonna fall asleep before the mains even turned up at the table. “Sorry,” she mumbled, stifling a yawn. “It’s just been a long day. The flight was only ninety minutes, but security took a while and I’m used to flying into a town and just settling down in my hotel the night before a show,” she explained. Told ya airports were a load of bollocks!
“Well, I appreciate the sacrifice love,” I told her earnestly. “Am glad we could finally find time where we’re both available too, even if it’s been more’n I’d have liked.” It took us almost a month to find a date where we were both free, though we’d spoken a few times a week, sending iMessages and what not. Who’d have thought it, Marie Jones and Tommy Cook hitting it off. “And a really don’t want ya to think am being insulting either. You look bloody bostin’ ya really do…”
“Boston?” she asked, looking confused. A realized, given she were from Boston, that it may be a little bit confusing to say the least.
“Sorry Red, a forget that am not still back in Brum at times,” I explained, smirking. “Bostin', ending with eye en. Means great, excellent, brilliant… am trying to say yer look lovely, basically.”
She blushed. Shit, people actually do that? “Oh,” she said, trying to hide the reaction. “Well, thank you. You’re looking very smart yourself,” she added with a nod towards me threads. Two bloody right a did; three piece tweed suit never fails to impress, yer know what am saying? “Brum is… Birmingham, right? Sorry, I know we pronounce that differently than you do… that must be infuriating.”
“Ah, ya get used to it love,” I told her, shrugging me shoulders. Truth be told, it were frustrating, but I weren’t gonna make her feel bad about it, were I? I may have an ugly fizzog, but it ain’t got stupid written across it!
“I guess,” she said, taking a sip of her wine before placing the glass back down softly. “Living in a foreign country must make for a lot of experiences like that though. Don’t you miss home?” she asked and I had to think about it.
“In a way,” I told her. “I miss the place, but… I left a lot of stuff back in Birmingham that I don’t really want to go back to, if am honest.”
“Oh,” Marie muttered, suddenly looking concerned. Her concern were saved momentarily by the server bringing our starters over, but before she took a bite, she started apologizing to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to open any old wounds or--”
“Nothing to apologise for love, it’s fine,” I were quick to tell her, ignoring my own food to explain. “Me and my old man had a bit of a falling out, he didn’t want me to pursue the big leagues and just stay working for his small company in the midlands. Family is a big deal and am kinda the black sheep now. Plus, like a said when ya came to the show the other week, a lost a close friend a few years back and getting away from the memories helped me deal with all that…”
A weren’t planning on going into any’a that stuff, it were a little bit morbid for a discussion on what a thought were a first date at any rate, and a weren’t looking to ruin anything by going there, yer know? Yet there I were, bringing up Alfie for the second time in two conversations. Fucking fantastic mate, good job. “You mentioned them last time… do you mind me asking what happened?” Marie asked me, and while it weren’t exactly a subject a were planning on discussing, a couldn’t really say no, could a? This were something we actually had in common. “That’s if it’s not too personal… it’s probably too personal isn’t it? Forget I asked…”
I started to feel bad that she were feeling guilty now. That were never me intention. “Nah love, it’s fine,” I told her, trying to sound as reassuring as I could before I took a quick bite of my bruschetta. “Alfie were my best bud growing up, all through school an’ everything. Proper bostin’ lad, do anything for anyone, you know? He were from a loving family, got on wi’ everyone, always had a smile on his face… but it were a front, all of it,” I told her, picking up my wine glass to take a big gulp. I didn’t like dragging all of this back up, but she’d asked and I wasn’t gonna say no. “A didn’t know he even suffered from depression until after he’d killed himself, that were the worst bit. If a knew, a could have helped, or I think I could have anyway… he didn’t seek help, didn’t talk to anyone. Wasn’t on meds, hadn’t told his parents he was depressed, any of his friends… just woke up one day, went to work, came to school for training in the evening then went home and hung himself. He were… he…”
A wanted to explain, wanted to tell Marie what she wanted to know, but the words started to get stuck in my throat and I polished off the rest of my wine in one go before signaling for a waiter to top it up. I were trying to go steady on the old alcohol in order to not make a bad impression, but that weren’t really going to plan either, it seemed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Marie said once the waiter had buggered off again. “I didn’t want to drag bad memories up for you Tommy, I just… with you mentioning him the other week, and all… I’m sorry, I really am.”
“Please love, stop apologizing will yer?” I asked her, though it weren’t really a question. “If I didn’t wanna talk about summet, I just wouldn’t talk about it, alright? Besides, wi’ everything yous’ve gone through recently, it makes sense that yous’d want to talk about it…”
“I guess,” she said, taking a bite of her food before sighing. “I just don’t want to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about, that’s all. I mean, it’s not exactly dinner conversation, is it? ‘Oh, you have a best friend who killed themselves? Yeah, so did my husband’, it isn’t how dates are supposed to go, is it?”
So it were a proper date then? Bostin’! A didn’t let that show on me face though, ‘cause again am not an idiot. “If you want to talk about Arthur, you’re more than welcome to do so, Red…” I told her, meaning every word of it. If it weren’t too awkward for her then it definitely weren’t too awkward for me. “Isn’t that why we’re here, in a round about fashion anyway? Me hearing your radio interview and deciding to send those flowers?” I said, continuing the lie about how it were me who sent them in the first place, instead of Tubby sending em to her sister, Kim. “A can’t claim to know exactly how ya feel love, give I’ve never been married, let alone lost a spouse… but a do know how it feels to lose someone close to yer to suicide, and a know how painful that can be, so a don’t want yer thinking yer can’t talk about it if yer want to, alright?”
She looked at me in silence for a moment an for a second a thought she were gonna up sticks and leg it, but she grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her eyes a little, trying to stem the tears before they actually started. “Sorry… I know you must think I’m an idiot, but--”
“Far from it love, I think yer incredibly brave,” a told her, reaching out to pat her hand on the table before hastily taking it away again, wondering if that were the wrong move. “I know when Alfie took his own life, I blamed myself for not spotting the signs, not knowing something was wrong… and then you feel guilty for what you’re even feeling. Disappointment, anger, despair. It’s a horrible cycle, and it’s hard to get out of. I know that for myself,” I told her, trying to sound as comforting as I could. “It’s not easy… the pain it leaves behind for everything else to deal with. You don’t want to be angry with them, but you can’t help it. And you hate yourself for feeling that,” I said and Marie nodded her head before using her napkin again.
“I need to… I’ll… I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” she hastily said, grabbing her bag and pushing up from the table. I half got up myself, as she started heading away from the table and I half thought she was doing a runner until I realized she wasn’t heading for the exit but in the direction of the toilets. At least I’d not frightened her off, talk about dating disasters. Making her cry weren’t exactly a good start though, were it…
A spotted her coming back from the toilets a few minutes later, her eyes a little puffy from crying but she were smiling which were something. A stood up as she approached and helped her back into her chair before taking my own seat again. “I’m sorry Marie, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I told her, feeling pretty bad about the whole thing once we were both sat down again. “If what I said--”
“No, please don’t,” she said, cutting me off before I could bumble my way through any more of my apology. “You didn’t say anything wrong Tommy, I just… I’ve spent so long going through exactly what you said, blaming myself, blaming him, and as much support as everyone has given me, no one has told me it’s okay to be angry until now…” she told me, smiling somewhat guiltily. “Just knowing that I’m not… well, just knowing I’m not the only person who’s felt that way really helps… thank you Tom, I mean that. Thank you…”
Well that were a turn up for the books, weren’t it? Here I were, thinking that I’d completely blown it and yet there she was, thanking me for helping. And her hand were suddenly on top of mine, squeezing it to emphasize her thank you. And she didn’t pull it away suddenly either, like I’d done a few minutes earlier. “Glad a could help love,” I said, playing it cool. “Even if a made yer run away crying, which usually isn’t a good sign on a first date…” I added, smirking. That got a laugh. What’re the chances, huh? Talk about suicide, talk about the dead husband, make her cry and run off to the bog… and not two minutes later, you’ve got her laughing while holding your hand? Even if she did remove her hand from mine at that point, that weren’t bad going, I think we can all agree. Even better when you consider I never sent those bloody flowers in the first place! It actually turned out to be a fun evening, once we got over the whole running away crying thing, and we shared a cab back to her hotel where I were the perfect gentleman, a hug and a promise to be in touch again soon. Long game lads, gotta learn to play it: yer don’t just go for shot on goal from kickoff, yer know what a mean? Long game. Long. Game.
Dress sharp, look smart, regardless of the occasion. Words me grandad always told me when I were a lad. It’s one of the lessons a took to heart and still live by to this day. Dressed in Scotland’s finest tweed, I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt beneath the sleeve of my jacket before turning to the camera that Johnny had set to record a second earlier.
“Well… a guess the leopard can change its spots, ay? Or more impressively, a member of the Helms family has proven they can listen to what someone says and actually do somethin’ about it!”
A smirk, giving a little chuckle.
“A told that young lass Jenny that this weren’t fucking secondary school and that she should shut the fuck up on twitter and she ain’t hardly bleated a fucking word since. Yer welcome love, happy to be a part of yer education, filling in the gaps where pops clearly wasn’t all that knowledgeable on…
But hey, let’s not get bogged down in talkin’ about that tart in this, shall we? Am sure she’ll be waxing lyrical about how wrong I am about everything a said last Emerge when she finally uploads her barely post-pubescent diatribe later tonight for all the world to see. That twitter silence speaks volumes about how right a were though, if yer ask me.
But a digress. I’ll talk about her later in’t cruise if a get that far, won’t I? And can we just take a moment here to talk about that part, ay? ‘Cause I wanna know who’s bright fucking idea it were to hold a double header show on a bloody cruise ship!
For starters, I feel sorry for you poor cunts coming to this show, because they must have changed a small bloody fortune for it. Cruising around the Caribbean, that costs a fair whack wi’out the two night pay per view wrestling, so I guess we’re performing for trust fund cunts and millionaires this week, ay?”
If that weren’t deserving of an eye roll, a dunno what would be.
“But aside from that… imagine being booked on this show, or attending this show for a love of wrestling and desperation to see Emerge’s biggest stars like yours truly… only to suffer from seasickness not fifteen minutes after we set sail! Fuck, imagine the refunds Emerge are gonna have to dish out due to some twat smoking his bong and deciding this were a good idea, rather than a bad one of Titanic proportions…
But there we go. It’s happening. Am currently waiting for this barge to set sail like me grandparents waiting for the barge to make its way down the cut from Birmingham to the big smoke and on Monday I’ve got a date with a couple of birds that… well, couldn’t be more different, could they?
Side question: Minerva’s a world champion in another company, the fuck’s she doing in development hell? Genuinely curious wi’ that’n.
As I were saying though. Me, Gwen Blair and Minerva. All fighting over a chance to face the bird I beat three weeks ago when I proved I weren’t joking when I said this weren’t a beauty pageant but a wrestling company!
Aye, am ugly as fuck. A look like a pitbull chewing a wasp that’s just bean whacked wi’ a stick from the ugly tree for good measure but am not ‘ere to be eye candy anyway, am here to fucking wrestle! And while that bint running the Beauty Factory may not understand the way of the business, a know for a fact that Minnie Mouse and Gwen Blergh will do!
Spirit Championship opportunity on the line on night one, and I don’t need to explain what that’ll mean. To any of us. Minerva’s a world champ elsewhere, Gwen’s… probably done stuff, fucked if I know. I were a champion in MCW. Don’t need anyone to tell me or the other two what this means…
…but I also don’t want anyone telling me that it don’t mean more to me than it does to either of them, ‘cause frankly it fucking does. You wankers know all too well what I think about tha family, about the Helms’.
Made my thoughts on that more than clear three weeks ago! And after what’s her face cost little Jenny the match and gave me a cheap win that same night – yeah, I can admit it were a cheap win, fuck off – I guess ya can say that I’m hungry for the real thing! Guessing JenJen is gonna point out it weren’t much, that a never beat her or had her beat, but if I can get past Minerva and Gwen, that’s exactly what I’ll do!
Helms. Versus Cook. New Jersey wrestling family versus Birmingham wrestling family. Adopted daughter of the Best of New Jersey and the kitty cat from California versus the Birmingham bruiser. Tell me that ain’t a better match than Jenny from the block versus either Gwen or Minerva!
Ladies. I ain’t gonna underestimate your ability to kick arse… but with what’s on the line? Am coming out swinging. Jenny already learned what Strong Style means, and win lose or draw, you will as well. But don’t worry… I’ll dedicate my title win to you both when it happens.”
With that, I smirk at the camera before walking out of shot. Short and sweet. And very fucking cocky.
