True Faith

[Ryan LeCavalier]

TRUE FAITH

“The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private, distant, passionate, turbulent truth.”
 

– GEORGES BATAILLE,

This was it, her moment in the sun.

Every time she shut her eyes she saw it – or her own version of it. Being beaten to the punch. Losing something important. Beaten when it mattered most, losing to Chris Madison. A dark and twisted fantasy.
Her career flashed before her eyes.

It was gone.

It was dead.

It was murdered.

This couldn’t be happening. She could see him raising his arm in victory, full of life and virtuosity. How could she have never noticed?

She felt sick to her stomach.

Ten years she’d been chasing something. Ten years of grief seem to make its new home in her chest. ( She’d wished she never embarked upon the journey. ) She was cracking, fine lines splintering and breaking until she was left in ruins. Ryan spared little faith in God, her support system, and her family in this respect, but she couldn’t stop the ill-spun prayers to every deity known to man or (woman) for putting her at odds with her father, worrying her mother half to death, and continuing to fulfill something that was never about her in the first place.

( Worthless. )

She had to do something.

She needed to escape.

Without a second thought she decided this was her final stand, her Final Frontier. Over the course of a few weeks she devoted herself to training: offering herself up as some sort of sacrifice, no matter the outcome.

Normally, Ryan never had problems with wrestling. She worked hard enough in her own right most days that the moment she closed her eyes, she was still going in her mind. This time around, though, was vastly different all she all she could do was think about where this all was leading. The end of the story is what it was most monumental to both of them. If he won, he didn’t have to worry about reestablishing his place in Frontier Grappling Arts – not that he needed too anyway, he was a fairly capable wrestler. She didn’t have time to mope about or drag her feet, because she needed to be as ready as she’d ever had been previously.
All it took was one mistake.

Looking further back into her career she’s made her fair share of mistakes. She’s the daughter of a wrestler. She’s a legacy in the making. Her father was always relieved, that she ended up competent. And what of his legacy? It’s hard to topple. Countless championships and accolades, she in her mind knows she can’t match. Though, secretly he’s proud of everything about her. He loves that she has his eyes; the fire of determination within them. Not his moles or his big hands or his formerly wild hair or expressive brow (nevertheless, she was cursed with his height, strong shoulders, and not to mention his attitude.)

From the start she ruined what’s most sacred to him by stumbling through it on legs as short and fat as overstuffed sausages, apologizing for being so loud when he’s trying to sleep with one watery blink of her stupid, doe-like eyes.

In theory it’s said that he had so many dreams and aspirations for her.

In turn, she crushed every single expectation.

As wrestlers The Lecavalier Family expects: Perfection – refined and unadulterated.

As a wrestler she expects: Destruction – refined and…tainted.

(It’s just her and him, now.
And his body is as soft as dreaming.
She’s sorry, boy; the moon is full, and she’s all out of discipline.)

(You can’t destroy her, she destroys herself.)

This is it, this is her Final Frontier.

“So why were you so quick to get out of the house?” Nina asked, seated across from Ryan, dressed for a night out of a town.

“I really just wanted to get out,” Ryan revealed as she looked directly at Nina, “We’ve been pretty much hit or miss with our schedules as of late. We haven’t really had a dull moment since Thanksgiving; Christmas is coming up…I really just wanted to take you out somewhere nice.”

Nina’s eyebrows softened, not sounding as serious as before “Have you really thought that far into the future?”

“You’d be surprised,” she lamented, “Actually I’ve been doing some thinking,” Ryan trailed off as she watched the background of the restaurant; it was constantly animated, so full of life and hungry people receiving their orders.

“What kind of thinking?” Nina asked she gave a quizzical look that was so sheer confusion.

“About the future…” Ryan’s words were short, indifferent, and kept Nina’s skepticism on high alert.

“Hmm.” Nina throat rattles, detached, with a drop over tone to coat and sooth and sound supportive of her wife further. Perhaps she was thinking the same. “Anything in particular you’ve been thinking about? Like something to do with us?”

Ryan nodded, “How’d you guess?” she replied glumly. “I’ve been thinking about my career as of late,” slowly she revealed, “We’ve always spoke at length about starting a family—”

“Are you serious?” Nina asked in an immediate whisper, leaning forward with her elbows on the table peering at her wife. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

Ryan frowned knowing it was hard to talk about, she didn’t always seem quiet on important issues when they had arisen in their relationship before. This was different; this was almost virtually talking about something that was slightly important to her. Again, how was she when she still had so much on her plate left?

“I think I’m ready.” Ryan affirmed her voice lower.

“Really?” Nina’s eyes were a little wide, she was surprised – not that she’d ever suggest it, but it was something she too also thought about at one point. “How come?”

“Nothing lasts forever. You’ve got to start thinking about it sometime.” she paused, “It’s something that’s crossed my mind more than a few times. That’s not to say that my heart isn’t still in wresting, it’s not that. I just want what’s best for us; we’ve been together almost two years. I think it’s time we start putting some thought into it.” Ryan smiled then, “I know how much starting a family means to you. Isn’t it your thirties where its’ weird to have kids and what have you?”

“As lovely as that sounds, why the change? This isn’t like you,” a bewildered Nina replied, “While I do enjoy all the attention you’ve shown me over the past few weeks, you’ve been really off…is something the matter?”

Please don’t confuse running scared, because it isn’t. This was a pure, animalistic fight or flight response; the feeling of her body, tense and unyielding, under the weight of the world. This was about her mind racing, her heart pounding, the fear written palpably on her face – and all of these things being lost and ignored within the larger picture.

“I don’t like the idea that we’re living out lives as a couple weeks or months at a time,” Ryan responded after a long, introspective moment. “I don’t like it at all. I want to put an end to it; I just want to be able to slow down for a little bit.”

“So what are you saying, you’d give up wrestling for starting a family?” Nina went silent for a second, thinking about what was revealed to her through Ryan. “Did all of this just come to you now?” further motioned Nina in a small, contemplative voice.

“Pretty much, if that’s what needs to be done.” Ryan shrugged, distractedly biting her lower lip. “I’ve put some serious thought into this. I don’t want to be known as the person who came to realize they want something, and heaven forbid it walks out the door—or worse—”

“You end up like your father?” Nina chimed in it was an experienced low blow that Ryan took in stride.

Ryan reached over grasping onto Nina’s hand, “Trust me. Whatever happens, it’ll happen for the right reasons. I don’t think anything’s written in stone, it’s just something I want; I’m confident that it’ll happen accordingly.”

“Are you sure?”

Ryan nodded, reaffirming her stance to be reassuring at a glance.

“I’m positive.”

Nina sighed a moment after hearing Ryan’s answer. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she reminded her as extended her hand towards the other edge of the table. “You say you wanted this; however, you’ve never truly told me what’s been your main motivation. What’s motivated you all these years to wrestle? You’ve known about the pact my Brother and I made, but I don’t even know what got underneath your skin...”

Ryan shook her head, looking towards the table. “Nothing got underneath my skin. I was just doing what I thought was expected of me—and then I realized, that becoming a wrestler held some sort of weight in the innermost workings of my family. For some reason, it was empowering. I wanted power. I needed it, because typically anything else in terms of the relationship I have with dad is lost to anybody else.” She paused then, thinking remorsefully.

“Its part of the reason why Misha and I aren’t always on the same page,” another shoe fell as Ryan began telling the truth. “Growing up we were the best of friends. We couldn’t go anywhere without one another, then after a brief stay in Canada my uncle decided he wanted to go back to the United Kingdom. From there on, she stopped being my best friend and became a fierce rival.”

Ryan’s eyes focused on Nina’s as the lump in her throat grew stronger. “Some might say my dad’s the reason why we were pitted against each other in the first place. I guess when you truly think about it, everything happens for a reason.” Ryan shoulders relaxed further, “I Can’t change the past, but I can definitely ensure the future.”

The ring was her office.

An office, typically as pressed as the girl herself, had not been found in its usual state that evening. Final Frontier is only days away and she’s spinning her wheels; the sound of music to aid in focusing, the many sets of pads that lined the outskirts of the ring itself, had invaded the spacious gym she possessed until the late afternoon. The training process was tedious and had consumed most of her time over the course of several weeks, over the course of which she set out to develop further in the one key area of combat she’d never been truly confident in.

There had been no time to leave the ring or converse with anyone, and typically, on a day where she’s left to her own devices, she would have attempted to do so more than usual. A quick break could span half hours with the tension that clouded around her. It left her feeling rather confined in the open space of the gym turned stuffy, and the monotonous actions of training submissions had nearly put her in a lulled daze.

Few people had stepped foot into her gym, allowing time to pass slowly, almost unbearably slow. Ryan absolutely adored her job, and with all of the contact alone with the mat, the slow days were easily swallowed when the excitement-filled ones were reminisced.

With her back flat to the mat she zoned out looking up at the ceiling starting to wonder if it was all worth it. Part of her reasoning for even questioning was shot, though it didn’t help that just thinking about Madison seem to spur an idle motion out of her – no ever made her second guess anything, but he was vastly approaching. With little time to prepare before Final Frontier she’d been grinding on the mats all day; she started with a partner, whom of which ended up leaving by the early evening time.

Then, she noticed her phone lit up on the edge of the canvas itself. Parts of her dare not answer it and it rung for a few seconds without signs of the person calling her back; she hoped, prayed even because she didn’t want to talk.

Rising from her back she got to a seated position, then she rolled towards where her phone was laying, scooping it up she put her password in and looked at the messages someone actually was trying to video chat with her.
If this was any other situation she would’ve answered it honestly.

While Ryan knew better than to waste time on not getting ready for someone like Chris Madison, a guy most people wouldn’t want to wrestle on a bet, or even by chance. She’d been raised well and would never underestimate someone whose résumé was about as long as hers, if not longer. Even though she learned from the best, he was in a completely different league. No matter how crazy it sounded on paper a ‘Pride Rules: Submissions Only’ match was the perfect proving ground for her to rise to the occasion. It wasn’t anything too over the top, she even found him endearing in certain respects.

She needed to beat Chris Madison, proving that beyond a shadow of a doubt she was legitimate competition for anybody in Frontier Grappling Arts. Putting her personal life aside, she couldn’t help but feel that they were going to need both falls to prove themselves worthy to be considered among the elite of FGA’s talent.

Besides, Madison still expected her to bring the fight right? Bring the fight she shall, she’d never backed down from a challenge in all her life. She didn’t want to start now – as daunting of a task as it were – she was just going through the standard set of emotions. She’d been there a thousand times before; not to mention, she’d be there a thousand times more in the future.

So that left the question: in a match-up between the two who was the real winner here?

They say one of man’s greatest achievements is landing on the moon.

If you compare Final Frontier as a wrestling event; you could make the same parallel as so many other people who’ve strove to be the absolute best.

Not only does Final Frontier represent a cycle – it’s both the end and the beginning of different phases of life in FGA. Take my current run here for example. I’ve been here for several months with nothing to show for it. Not only have my opponents been top notch, I’ve expressed myself and displayed some of the best wrestling that I can physically muster show after show. Stop me if you’ve heard that before—it’s something we’ve all faced at one point in our careers. Unlike so many others before me, I didn’t exactly let this get to me. It’s more so because of my current outlook on certain events.

You can sum up my tenure here in FGA in so many ways. Some might say that I’ve at a pretty interesting run, I’ve not fought for a title yet – however, titles don’t always make or break the wrestler. You could say that this hasn’t been one of my best runs in my ten year career. One that’ll easily be forgotten, where people like the Salem Cartier’s of the world somehow make a bigger impression by going through a lot more adversity than I ever had.

I could go on and on about certain aspects of what makes this whole thing a double-edged sword. I could complain about management not giving me a fair shake, not seeing the talent that I possess in the ring; however that’s not what this is about. We’re on the eve of one of the most important super shows known to FGA; as ominous a name as Final Frontier is, we’re truly headed into unknown territory that’s visited only once a year.

There are so many different variables for what could go down on the show.

I for one have been playing so many different scenarios through the back of my mind; each one of these scenarios for better or worst all tell of a different outcome to my match. Madison hasn’t exactly made things the easiest by being one of few men I’ve had the pleasure of facing; we haven’t been in the ring yet, and I can already tell that this is going to be a fight. He’s called for a submissions only match, I raised the stakes by turning said Submission’s Only match into a Pride Rules match. What’s the reasoning behind it you ask? I feel that’s the only way any of us will be getting any vindication on one of the biggest platforms we could’ve asked for all year.

Am I afraid of wrestling Madison and losing?

Yes, but for all the right reasons. He’s a submissions specialist – he’s always been able to implore his talents where he sees fit. His stock is as good as anybody else here in FGA. I can’t stress enough how hard this is going to be.

It hasn’t stopped me before. I’ve never backed down for a challenge ever in my career.

One thing that sticks out to me most is that Chris Madison comes from a long but forgotten school of thought. That not only do you have to fight to survive, you’ve got to play for keeps. It’s pretty much how society plays a part in our everyday lives. There aren’t too many women strong enough for that. Currently on a world stage there are only twenty-two world leaders who are female. In a sense I get it the feeling this goes beyond just being two talented wrestlers. Though he’d never admit it straight out to my face or otherwise, he’s already feels there’s nothing that I can do in that ring to change the outcome of our match.

Without going all defacto feminist on him by flipping the script and making it about me being held back and not given a chance to shine underneath the power of my own steam, I’ll go on ahead and say this…

This match has a lot to do with tensions bred by volition of being undervalued. I won’t lie staring across the ring from someone who could snap any of your limbs the way Madison can is always daunting. I can’t make heads nor tails of certain situations without falling back on my own qualms. In reality I feel like I’m putting my best foot forward. I feel like there’s one thing I’m doing right; that one thing happens to be: I’m representing wrestling as a woman to the fullest of my abilities. There is not a strike, a hold, nor thing that Madison can do that will hold back having to fight through every single minute of that match.

I’ve already questioned myself. I’ve also questioned what kind of shape is Madison actually in, given that he’s an older guy who’s not exactly springing back from too many bumps along the way. I’ve spent most of my down time working on every part of my submission game so that I can apply the knowhow the right way. The reason behind it is simple; I don’t want to leave any stone unturned during this match. I know he’s not going to hold back—

and why would he?

This is our best chance to make a name for ourselves.

I’ve envisioned every choke, lock, vice, and hyper extension as being a means to my end.

That’s why I’ve got to brave this storm, this hurricane that’s meant for us.

I can’t allow him to get anyway with anything—I won’t allow him. It doesn’t matter if I have to bleed all over the canvas or bleed onto the nice ‘Final Frontier’ ring aprons that FGA’s sure to bring out for the occasion.

I can’t slack in any department or he’ll win. The weight of the world is forever on my shoulders from opening to closing bell. He’ll show no remorse for me and that’s quite all right with me, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I think that’s what gives me goosebumps the most. It’s not a kink – but, pain’s always been this thing that’s kept me alert the most. I’ll use it as a tool just to gauge how he is going into this match, every time he goes for something offhanded, I’ll remind him by answering with something emphatically.

As do or die as the situation might sound, I’m wrestling this match as if t were my last.

It’s pretty morbid to think that any future success from me is hanging on me winning this match. Suffice to say that there’s a lot going on, there are so many emotions that are left unexpressed right now. I’ve already made up my mind that win or lose by the end of the night every single fan in the arena, FGA’s faithful fanbase watching along online, will know just exactly what I’m about by the end of the night.

At this point, whatever the outcome…a fall awaits.

I’ve already made my peace…

Question is Madison, have you?