Matt Ward
I’m still trying to figure out forgiveness
And keep track of all of my sins
Just tell me you don’t love me, and I promise I won’t
Darken your doorstep again
Columbus, OH
February 6th
Morning
“How is that fair?!”
“Boo-fuckin-hoo, George.” Matt took a small sip from his coffee as everything brewing burned at his eyes.
“Can we please watch the language?” Mary pulled the spatula from the pan of ground turkey she was browning long enough to slap her husband on the shoulder. “We’ve got a four-year-old sittin’ right there eating her Lucky Charms. You’ll get her sayin’ that junk.”
“Doubtful.”
“And can you really blame your daughter? Georgie’s right. How can you… you… of all people, tell her you wont train her?”
“You’re not even ei…” Matt turned his head to the left and right, unsure of who he should be explaining himself to. He settled on the one who could sentence him to a shitty night of sleep on the sofa. “She’s not even eighteen yet.”
“Soon enough. And you have a wrestling school for gods sake.” Georgie reached into the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. “Like, what kinda sense does it make that you’ll train some dude off the street, but not me?”
“I don’t train. We have trainers. I pop in a couple times a year and work with the class. And while I appreciate you supporting any and all endorsement deals, maybe grab some real breakfast?”
“Whatever. I’ve got school.”
His daughter stormed through the kitchen and grabbed her bag from the countertop as she disappeared across the living room and out the front door. Matt sighed and took another sip of his coffee and peered over to check on the status of the breakfast hash Mary was tossing together. It wasn’t 07:30 and he’d already fought with his eldest and given nothing more than a nod and obligatory ‘morning’ to his son before he’d been off to catch the bus. At least he and Hailey were still cool.
“Matthew… did you really think that you were going to raise three kids and at least one of them wasn’t gonna wanna be a wrestler? And now that you’re getting’ back in the ring? How can you not…”
“Stop.” Matt shook his head in complete disbelief, no matter how much he, apparently, should have seen this coming. “I did this so the kids… Hunter and Hailey… could get a chance to watch their father do what he does best. Did best. You and I know both know what all it takes to make a name for yourself in the business. You want that for her?”
“She wants it.
“I ain’t got time for this. I’ve got that sponsor call in about half an hour and a bunch of errands to run and I’m gonna hit the gym and I’m not training Georgie to wrestle.” Matt slipped past his wife and dumped the last couple ounces of his coffee, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold Monster.
***
Columbus, OH
February 6th
Evening
Three quick ‘pops’ sliced through the sweat in the air. Ten feet away, in a moment of confusion and fear, a young man, not more than 20 years of age, dove behind the nearest bench.
Matt Ward bailed from under the barbell of his squat rack, letting the weights sink into the safety straps, as he tossed himself to the floor. With a grimace that probably would have terrified children, Matt reached for the brace on his left leg, sliding it down over his noisy knee. Everything looked normal, all in its proper place, but the truth was, it was junk. Both of them. Absolute fuckin’ junk.
Grabbing hold of the side of the rack, he pulled himself up and glanced down at the barbell, wondering if he’d accidentally slid on an extra plate, but it all looked as expected. He was just old, with two bad wheels that were almost certainly going to fall off and wreck his grand return. Somewhere along the road to victory, he was gonna be that 2005 Dodge Neon ass-end-up in a ditch.
“Shit, dude. Ya scared me.” From behind his bench, the young man rose to his feet and straightened out the wrinkles of his Rogue Fitness tank and readjusted his headphones.
“Ya never heard old joints crackle and pop before?”
“Not that loud. Thought some crazy ass brought a gun in here.”
“I’m sure lots of crazy asses have brought guns to the gym before. But this was just my left knee.”
“Maybe you should squat less.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t squat at all.” Matt began to slide the plates off one end of the barbell, re-racking like the grizzled gentleman that he was. “Years ago, this shit wasn’t all so heavy.
“Plates weigh the same, my guy.”
“Yeah. Guess so.” As Matt re-racked the last of the weights, he sighed and stretched out his left knee. By this point, he was talking to himself. The kid, over all of the chit-chat, had returned to his workout, grabbing a heavy set of dumbbells and heaving them up and down in alternating curls. With each pump, he watched his bicep flex and made a “Mmmm” sound.
Matt mumbled under his breath “Glamour muscles.”
If the kid was smart, he’d put more focus on the shoulders and traps, something to actually carry a heavy load . With that thought, Matt hoisted the barbell back onto the rack and headed across the gym to a couple of trap bars leaning against some scuffed drywall in a barely lit corner.
As he drug his feet, he felt a pulsing in his left thigh and for a moment he figured this was it… the knee was gone and the rest was about to go with it, whole leg was gonna collapse right in the middle of the room with a couple dozen gym bros, half his age, debating whether to laugh and post to social media or maybe call for an ambulance.
But it was just his own phone, vibrating to a series of texts. Stopping dead in his tracks, Matt pulled his s22 from his pocket and checked. Mary.
Hailey isn’t feeling well
Asking for her knight in shining armor
Can you come home?
Matt swiped his fingers across a series of letters, wasting no time in sending a response. He’d been married long enough (twice) to know better than to take his sweet ass time in answering.
Of Course.
Workout’s shit anyways
As he shoved his phone back into his pocket and headed to grab his bag from the lockers, he wondered why he’d texted that last part.
***
Well the older I get, truth gets harder to find
And famous false prophets get by off of robbing good men blind
Maybe I don’t have it in me, maybe it doesn’t have me in it
And if I don’t fly, that’s fine, just let me find the place where I fit
– John Moreland, “Blacklist”
Columbus, OH
February 6th
Later
He tossed his keys in the basket, as he came thru the garage, and immediately shouted out, knowing his wife was the type to hear everything, regardless of where she was in the house. “Where’s my baby girl?”
“Resting in bed.”
“How’s she doin’?” Matt followed the sounds of Mary’s voice, weaving around the corner, past the living room and towards the kitchen. His wife was leaning on the pristine white quartz of the island, going thru coupons.
“Sore throat, runny nose, your run-of-the-mill head cold. But ya know how that is when you’re four and a half years old. Or a man.” She looked up from a Classic’s Pizza flyer and cocked an eyebrow at her husband. “She started complaining around lunch. I didn’t text cuz I knew you were in that big sponsor call and then were going to run some errands, but about a half hour ago, she started whimpering and asking for her daddy.”
“Ok. We’ll keep her home from Pre-K the rest of the week. Hopefully she’s feeling better before I have to fly to Florida on Thursday. Otherwise I can call Lindz and let her know we’ll have to push back my debut and…”
“No.”
“A cold, Matthew. It’s a cold. There’ve been a dozen before. Be dozens more. She’ll probably wake up tomorrow and be ‘All better, Momma’.”
“Ok.” Matt took a quick breath. “Where’s Hunter?”
“He’s at Josh’s. Doing dinner with them tonight.”
“Speaking of…”
“Don’t feel like cookin’. Gonna order somethin’. Figured pizza.”
“Works for me.” He was already across the kitchen and up the first step when he hollered back. “You said she’s in bed?”
“Ours”
Without a pause, he headed up the stairs and laughed. “Of course.”
***
The door was halfway open and he gave three quick knocks with one knuckle, but she didn’t flinch. Hailey was lying in their bed, one leg tucked under the down comforter, the other laying on top, tiny toes waving in the air. From the sounds of the TV, he could tell Dino Ranch was on, and by the repetition beating in his brain, he knew it was Season 1, Episode 6: Family Comes First.
“Hey, Sweets. How’s my princess feelin’?”
“Well, a little sick, Dad.”
“Just a little?”
“Yeah. Not too bad.”
“That’s good.” He lowered himself on the side of the bed, flinching as pain radiated in his knee.
“Are you hurt?”
“My knee, kiddo.”
“Did you do that at da gym?”
“Uhhh…” Matt paused and tossed his head back and forth side-to-side, weighing the appropriate response for a daughter that was smarter than her years. “More like over the course of a couple decades, but it got worse at the gym today.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” Hailey scooted a few inches closer, until he was in reach, then she rubbed at his knee. “Should be all better soon.”
“I hope so.”
“For your big match?”
“A little birdie tell you about that?” As all parents do when faced with a sick child, Matt placed the back of his hand against her forehead.
“No. Mom told me.” She grabbed his thumb and pulled his hand away. “And I don’t have a fever. Mommy already checked. That’s when she told me ‘bout the match yer training for.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“That yer worried.”
“Well, a little worried, Princess”
“Why? Mom said you useda be really good.”
“Mmhmm, ‘used to be’ is kind of the point. Ya know…” Matt pushed his full weight up onto the bed and stretched his legs out beside his daughter, watching as the Cassidy family wrangled some dinosaurs on the television. “…the last time Daddy did this thing, you weren’t born yet. In fact, Hunter was just a baby.”
“But you came back and got that guy with the watermelon shaped head at Cul… Cassas… what was dat called again?”
“Colossus”
“Yeah. And Mommy said that was your big return and that you were back resslin.”
“Sure.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Just not sure I’ve had the chance to work off the rust. 10 years is a long time to take a break from something. Got the call from Miss Lindz outta the blue and now I have to wrestle in a couple days. Doesn’t seem fair, huh?”
“Oh.” Hailey turned her gaze back towards her cartoon as she pulled the comforter up to her waist and let out a little cough. “Boo-fuckin-hoo, Dad”.
Matt glanced at the doorway of the bedroom, half-expecting his wife to be standing there, and though she wasn’t, he knew it didn’t matter. From downstairs, her voice thundered.
“MATTHEW!”
She was the type to hear everything.