Simplicity
Dec 22, 2016 20:59:16 GMT -5
Post by The Mason on Dec 22, 2016 20:59:16 GMT -5
December 12, 2016
”Hey! Oh m... hey! Hey, sir, are you okay?”
”Just keep driving.”
”Should I get you to a--?”
”I said keep driving!”
Minutes passed as the car sped throughout the night. The Uber driver-- still covered in his own sweat, eyes wide, alert, and ahead-- held onto the wheel of the Chevy Cruze with a white-knuckle grip. He hadn’t dared say another word. Evan lied, curled up in his seat, facing the window. He’d been groaning, murmuring under his breath for a moment and then it just kind of faded. The driver glanced over for as long as his paranoia would allow.
He still wasn’t sure what he’d actually witnessed moments ago at the Matthews Arena. He’d seen fights in Boston, sure, but Evan Envi was getting maimed. All of the tens of thousands of hours of wrestling he’d watched couldn’t really compare to what he’d seen. His heart still thumped at a comic pace. He spared a last glance at the man in the passenger seat before taking a deep breath, continuing to drive into the night as he’d been told.
”Where are we?”
Evan jolted awake under the flourescent lighting of a Gulf Express gas station. He sat upright, looking over at the empty driver’s seat. He turned again, pushing open the passenger door, leaning out to see the driver standing at the gas tank, pump in-hand. His eyes drifted toward Evan and he smiled bashfully. ”Oh, hey.”
”Where are we now?”
”Oh!” The driver jumped a bit, startled as the pumphandle clicked out of place, signaling that the tank was full. ”Uhhhh… Gulf Express.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. ”Gulf Express where?” Annoyed, he pulled his seatbelt off, throwing his legs out of the car.
”Um. Worcester? Maybe Webster? We’ve been driving for nearly an hour.” He offered a smile. ”I’m Mike, by the way.”
”Yup. Did not ask all that.”
Evan stepped out of the car, extending his arms, stretching freely for a moment-- before anxiously turning and looking in every-which-direction, dreading the silence of the dark, unfamiliar streets.
”This town’s pretty much dead.”
”Eh. Know any motel or hotel or… somewhere I can crash?”
Mike was quiet for a moment before looking over at Evan while he made his way around the back of the car, back toward the driver’s door. He hesitated to respond as if fearing that extending an invitation to Envi also invited the chaos he’d just rescued him from.
”Southbridge. I um… I work at a motel there right before we hit downtown. I mean, when I’m not doing this I do. My brothers own it and--”
”So, yes then.” Quickly falling bored of Mike’s explanation, Evan sank back into the passenger’s seat. Mike drummed his fingers on the roof of the car, drawing a deep breath before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the key in the ignition.
”How long are you gonna stay in that room?”
Mr. Harrison’s voice, calm as it was, may as well have been a gunshot in Evan’s ear. Evan glanced over at the clock on the nightstand which read “6:43 A.M.” and immediately regretted answering the phone, especially now knowing that it was his father.
”As long as necessary.” Evan said it half-muffled, face still sunken into the pillow.
”Oh! You’ve become a hardass overnight. Not gonna go to a hospital?”
”Don’t need to.”
He sat upright in the motel bed as if to prove it to himself, grunting aloud as he did. All the pain in his head came rushing back. His shoulder ached from when he’d been whipped into the window of the car. His ribs hurt from being kicked. His stomach hurt from trying to breathe through the ordeal.
”You know why this happened.”
”Because I let my guard d--”
”Noooo. No, no, no. We’ve been through this, son. It’s because your mother raised a bitch.”
”...”
”I don’t mean it in the worst way a disappointed parent could mean it. But you… how can I say this… you do everything with sort of a bitch undertone.”
”Wow.”
”And I let it go for twenty-seven years, until I walked into the boys’ room today and saw the most negative parts of your influence.” Sigh. ”Now I don’t know video games. But I know goddamn well your mother bought those boy Madden. She bought ‘em NBA. She bought ‘em hockey. But when I walked in, my heart nearly fucking stopped.”
”Why?”
”Those unguided little gremlins were nuts-deep in a game of FIFA.” Hard sigh. ”I put that shit to a stop. I had to. We’re an open-minded family but we have to set boundaries.”
”Is there any other reason you called me?”
Mr. Harrison was quiet on the line for several moments. If Evan kept his eyes closed long enough he likely would’ve drifted right back off into sleep but his father spoke calmly and directly.
”You were never fuckin’ this broad like you told me you were. Were you?”
Evan sighed into the pillow. ”Hm. No.”
”That’s what I thought. Disappointing.” Mr. Harrison chuckled on the other line for a moment before he continued in a considerably quieter tone. ”Look. What your mouth gets you into is none of my business. But… come out of it with something to show for it, eh? You embarrass the fuck out of us when the guys tell me some broad kicked your ass with your foot caught in a seatbelt. It’s embarrassing, Evan. But it’s important to your mother that you uh… you know… find some sort of value in what you’re doing or whatever. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
”Mhm. I hear you, Dad.”
”Just don’t get yourself killed. At least not on television where your mother can see it.”
”They censor that kind of stuff, idiot. Don’t be stupid.”
Evan smirked a bit upon hearing his father’s familiar hearty chuckle over the line once again. For all of Mr. Harrison’s accomplishments and intelligence, he always found a way to talk to Evan in a way that would get him to listen-- in a way that the regular world would never hear him speak. Even half-asleep, face buried into the cheap motel’s pillow, Evan appreciated the unnecessary lecture.
”Anyway. Goodbye. Lose this number.”
And Evan unceremoniously hung up as he always did. He closed his eyes and sank back into the cheap motel’ pillow.
December 22, 2016
"Hah. Alright. This sure got complicated, didn’t it?
And I know-- I know. It didn’t have to be like this. I know. I’m the one that kept pushing. I caused this to happen. I know.
Truth be told, I should’ve stopped when you pushed me away months ago before what happened in the Frontier Lion’s Cup with Johnny Karma. If I had known as much about you then as I know about you now, maybe I would’ve considered that. I mean… what can I tell you? That’s just not the path I decided to take. I stuck by you because I figured that’s what you needed. I’d SEEN the way you performed in Sin City and I saw the way you performed here and I figured, Molly, that you needed the Chief in your corner.
Still not really convinced I was wrong but we obviously saw how you felt about the whole thing!
In your own words you wanted a match against me ever since I stuck my nose in that match with Karma. You held that grudge for weeks… months… and it didn’t get you ANYWHERE. You told the world that becoming a champion was ‘one thing’ but BEING the champion took on a life of its own. You told me and everyone else that you were gonna be the greatest Pride Champion FGA had ever seen but with no excuses-- NO EXCUSES-- I beat you without a single frickin’ question in the center of the ring and you never even thought for a second to give me credit.
LEST WE FORGET, I did not involve myself with you to become the Pride Champion, Molly. You gave me that opportunity. YOU gave me that dream, amigo!
I always said that the things I was doing-- the measures I was taking-- that it was all just to get you there. I was interested in watching YOU become a bigger star. I wanted that spotlight, dude. And maybe in your eyes, I never had a good enough reason to be in your business BUT I made your business interesting! I occupied myself with you, like a hobby, because I knew you were competing at a fraction of the level you could be and I wanted to be a part of that growth. THAT is all the rage now, isn’t it? Guiding the inept through the horrors of wrestling? Becoming some sort of ‘trainer’ or ‘guardian’ and taking credit for the inevitable success of an ever-growing youth movement?
Nurturing the stars of tomorrow is in style, Molly. Christ.
I wanted to be there when you became a bonafide main eventer-- someone that our peers actually freakin’ cared about. And that was all. Originally, that was really all this was. And I guess it spiraled a little out of control and… again, I know, I got carried away. A lot of this is my fault, but soooo much has happened, man. You killed Fujiko’s mom, for example, with your Pride Championship win, and the mood changed immediately.
You wanted my blood, but then you introduced gold into the picture.
…
And it has been a long, long time since I’ve had gold.
At Retribution, there were no smoke and mirrors, y’know. There was no controversy; I won, you lost. But the story you tell is never about how good Evan Envi did. The story is always about how Molly Reid wasn’t at her best. As if you have the sustained credibility to SAY something like that! Like…
That makes me sick, man. Why does it always have to be like… YOU wrestled like garbage at Retribution or YOU had a bad night? Why’s it so absurd to think that after nine years in the game, I just might have a set of skills you don’t? Why’s it so absurd to believe that when Molly Reid and Evan Envi met one-on-one for the first time ever, Evan Envi WON fair and square because he had a legit better night? And mind you, it’s not that you lost but that I won.
I overwhelmingly exceeded your expectations and your expectations should be SOOO much higher. They should’ve been then and they should be off the charts now, mannn, I swear.”
In the darkness, we hear Envi shuffling. There is the crinkling and unfolding of paper before Evan speaks, softly, steadily:
”Shut up and just watch me. Watch me as I defend this championship. Watch me as I beat anyone that stands in front of me. Watch me as I become the greatest Pride Champion in FGA history. Watch me make each and every one of you eat your words. And all of that, everything I’ve talked about, that all starts on Saturday night.”
In the darkness, we hear the crinkling and folding of paper. We hear Envi shuffling. And again, softly, steadily:
”You said that. And then I beat you.
It wasn’t as complicated then. Somehow.
I thought for a little bit that this had shifted away from the supposed harm I caused you and had become about the Pride Championship that I started to become obsessed with in place of you. BUUUT poking the beast became far too tempting and real quick-like I found myself caught in this-- this-- this cycle that I can’t seem to get out of with you, man. Hah.
I always tell myself when I’m walking through the back that this thing between us is gonna be over after I take your Pride Championship but sometimes I wonder if it’s about more than that, even to me. Like… I catch myself thinking that even after I take the title away from you and become a FAIR representation of the Pride Title, that I just wanna keep beating you like I did with that camera. I keep thinking that maybe I just keep stomping on you. Keep smashing that title belt into your face. Into your body.
And then I realize… why SHOULD I?!
Why SHOULD I validate you after I become the new FGA Pride Champion? Huh? Why should I even look in your direction again after I beat you? I know that taking this belt away, turning my back, and never looking at you again, TWO VICTORIES IN A ROW, that would eat you alive. That would take you to a dark place that the wrestling world hasn’t seen Molly Reid go to and WON’T see Molly Reid go to until she loses absolutely everything. And with no disqualifications for our Pride Championship match this is a perfect opportunity for somebody to lose… everything.
I know how this should favor you though. You, being a trained fighter, being angry, being ticked-off because of all the ‘terrible things’ I put you through-- you have no referee telling you to back off when I duck into the ropes. You have nobody telling you that your chokehold is illegal. You have nobody pulling the chair out of your hands when you go to wrap it around my skull. But I’ve already seen how far you’re willing to go. I know that what I felt back in B…”
Evan pauses. He draws a breath.
”...I know what happened in Boston wasn’t even a fraction of what you wanted.”
For several moments, Evan is quiet. There is nothing clearly audible in the background other than the faint, rhythmic sound of his breathing.
”But you’re not gonna get what you want, Molly. That’s over.
I wanted to beat you at Retribution and become the number one contender to the Pride Championship and I did. And I want to beat you again at Final Frontier, no-disqualifications and no holds barred, taking away the same title that you’ve been holding FRICKIN’ HOSTAGE for the past three months! AND THE REASON, MOLLY REID, THAT’S INCLINED TO HAPPEN, IS BECAUSE I AM A BETTER WRESTLER THAN YOU!
Don’t let that get lost in the war of the words and the flurry of emotions, dangit! For everything we’ve been through from August until this moment, for as much as you have improved and for as angry and savage and RECKLESS as you have become, I am a better wrestler than you.
No matter what you pull at Final Frontier, you’re gonna be a step behind and a dollar short, not because you weren’t at your best but because I am a better wrestler than you.
You are going to lose, Molly. And your loss has nothing to do with what you weren’t able to do. It has nothing to do with how much you’ve learned since losing to Johnny Karma or how mad you are, or how many hours of sleep you lost arguing with Risky or Zero about how much you’re REALLY worth in this business. It has nothing to do with how little you think of me. It has nothing to do with your actions.
But because I am a better wrestler than you.
And maybe if I had just realized that, shut up, and moved on from the beginning you would’ve never found that rage in the first place and I would be the Pride Champion already. Hah.
That would’ve been simple. And instead… things are complicated. But it’ll be real clear-- real simple after Final Frontier.
I’m sorry I ever doubted how angry you were, Molly. But you’re gonna be sorry you never realized how good I was.
It should’ve never been this complicated.”
”Hey! Oh m... hey! Hey, sir, are you okay?”
”Just keep driving.”
”Should I get you to a--?”
”I said keep driving!”
* * * * *
Minutes passed as the car sped throughout the night. The Uber driver-- still covered in his own sweat, eyes wide, alert, and ahead-- held onto the wheel of the Chevy Cruze with a white-knuckle grip. He hadn’t dared say another word. Evan lied, curled up in his seat, facing the window. He’d been groaning, murmuring under his breath for a moment and then it just kind of faded. The driver glanced over for as long as his paranoia would allow.
He still wasn’t sure what he’d actually witnessed moments ago at the Matthews Arena. He’d seen fights in Boston, sure, but Evan Envi was getting maimed. All of the tens of thousands of hours of wrestling he’d watched couldn’t really compare to what he’d seen. His heart still thumped at a comic pace. He spared a last glance at the man in the passenger seat before taking a deep breath, continuing to drive into the night as he’d been told.
* * * * *
”Where are we?”
Evan jolted awake under the flourescent lighting of a Gulf Express gas station. He sat upright, looking over at the empty driver’s seat. He turned again, pushing open the passenger door, leaning out to see the driver standing at the gas tank, pump in-hand. His eyes drifted toward Evan and he smiled bashfully. ”Oh, hey.”
”Where are we now?”
”Oh!” The driver jumped a bit, startled as the pumphandle clicked out of place, signaling that the tank was full. ”Uhhhh… Gulf Express.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. ”Gulf Express where?” Annoyed, he pulled his seatbelt off, throwing his legs out of the car.
”Um. Worcester? Maybe Webster? We’ve been driving for nearly an hour.” He offered a smile. ”I’m Mike, by the way.”
”Yup. Did not ask all that.”
Evan stepped out of the car, extending his arms, stretching freely for a moment-- before anxiously turning and looking in every-which-direction, dreading the silence of the dark, unfamiliar streets.
”This town’s pretty much dead.”
”Eh. Know any motel or hotel or… somewhere I can crash?”
Mike was quiet for a moment before looking over at Evan while he made his way around the back of the car, back toward the driver’s door. He hesitated to respond as if fearing that extending an invitation to Envi also invited the chaos he’d just rescued him from.
”Southbridge. I um… I work at a motel there right before we hit downtown. I mean, when I’m not doing this I do. My brothers own it and--”
”So, yes then.” Quickly falling bored of Mike’s explanation, Evan sank back into the passenger’s seat. Mike drummed his fingers on the roof of the car, drawing a deep breath before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the key in the ignition.
* * * * *
”How long are you gonna stay in that room?”
Mr. Harrison’s voice, calm as it was, may as well have been a gunshot in Evan’s ear. Evan glanced over at the clock on the nightstand which read “6:43 A.M.” and immediately regretted answering the phone, especially now knowing that it was his father.
”As long as necessary.” Evan said it half-muffled, face still sunken into the pillow.
”Oh! You’ve become a hardass overnight. Not gonna go to a hospital?”
”Don’t need to.”
He sat upright in the motel bed as if to prove it to himself, grunting aloud as he did. All the pain in his head came rushing back. His shoulder ached from when he’d been whipped into the window of the car. His ribs hurt from being kicked. His stomach hurt from trying to breathe through the ordeal.
”You know why this happened.”
”Because I let my guard d--”
”Noooo. No, no, no. We’ve been through this, son. It’s because your mother raised a bitch.”
”...”
”I don’t mean it in the worst way a disappointed parent could mean it. But you… how can I say this… you do everything with sort of a bitch undertone.”
”Wow.”
”And I let it go for twenty-seven years, until I walked into the boys’ room today and saw the most negative parts of your influence.” Sigh. ”Now I don’t know video games. But I know goddamn well your mother bought those boy Madden. She bought ‘em NBA. She bought ‘em hockey. But when I walked in, my heart nearly fucking stopped.”
”Why?”
”Those unguided little gremlins were nuts-deep in a game of FIFA.” Hard sigh. ”I put that shit to a stop. I had to. We’re an open-minded family but we have to set boundaries.”
”Is there any other reason you called me?”
Mr. Harrison was quiet on the line for several moments. If Evan kept his eyes closed long enough he likely would’ve drifted right back off into sleep but his father spoke calmly and directly.
”You were never fuckin’ this broad like you told me you were. Were you?”
Evan sighed into the pillow. ”Hm. No.”
”That’s what I thought. Disappointing.” Mr. Harrison chuckled on the other line for a moment before he continued in a considerably quieter tone. ”Look. What your mouth gets you into is none of my business. But… come out of it with something to show for it, eh? You embarrass the fuck out of us when the guys tell me some broad kicked your ass with your foot caught in a seatbelt. It’s embarrassing, Evan. But it’s important to your mother that you uh… you know… find some sort of value in what you’re doing or whatever. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
”Mhm. I hear you, Dad.”
”Just don’t get yourself killed. At least not on television where your mother can see it.”
”They censor that kind of stuff, idiot. Don’t be stupid.”
Evan smirked a bit upon hearing his father’s familiar hearty chuckle over the line once again. For all of Mr. Harrison’s accomplishments and intelligence, he always found a way to talk to Evan in a way that would get him to listen-- in a way that the regular world would never hear him speak. Even half-asleep, face buried into the cheap motel’s pillow, Evan appreciated the unnecessary lecture.
”Anyway. Goodbye. Lose this number.”
And Evan unceremoniously hung up as he always did. He closed his eyes and sank back into the cheap motel’ pillow.
December 22, 2016
"Hah. Alright. This sure got complicated, didn’t it?
And I know-- I know. It didn’t have to be like this. I know. I’m the one that kept pushing. I caused this to happen. I know.
Truth be told, I should’ve stopped when you pushed me away months ago before what happened in the Frontier Lion’s Cup with Johnny Karma. If I had known as much about you then as I know about you now, maybe I would’ve considered that. I mean… what can I tell you? That’s just not the path I decided to take. I stuck by you because I figured that’s what you needed. I’d SEEN the way you performed in Sin City and I saw the way you performed here and I figured, Molly, that you needed the Chief in your corner.
Still not really convinced I was wrong but we obviously saw how you felt about the whole thing!
In your own words you wanted a match against me ever since I stuck my nose in that match with Karma. You held that grudge for weeks… months… and it didn’t get you ANYWHERE. You told the world that becoming a champion was ‘one thing’ but BEING the champion took on a life of its own. You told me and everyone else that you were gonna be the greatest Pride Champion FGA had ever seen but with no excuses-- NO EXCUSES-- I beat you without a single frickin’ question in the center of the ring and you never even thought for a second to give me credit.
LEST WE FORGET, I did not involve myself with you to become the Pride Champion, Molly. You gave me that opportunity. YOU gave me that dream, amigo!
I always said that the things I was doing-- the measures I was taking-- that it was all just to get you there. I was interested in watching YOU become a bigger star. I wanted that spotlight, dude. And maybe in your eyes, I never had a good enough reason to be in your business BUT I made your business interesting! I occupied myself with you, like a hobby, because I knew you were competing at a fraction of the level you could be and I wanted to be a part of that growth. THAT is all the rage now, isn’t it? Guiding the inept through the horrors of wrestling? Becoming some sort of ‘trainer’ or ‘guardian’ and taking credit for the inevitable success of an ever-growing youth movement?
Nurturing the stars of tomorrow is in style, Molly. Christ.
I wanted to be there when you became a bonafide main eventer-- someone that our peers actually freakin’ cared about. And that was all. Originally, that was really all this was. And I guess it spiraled a little out of control and… again, I know, I got carried away. A lot of this is my fault, but soooo much has happened, man. You killed Fujiko’s mom, for example, with your Pride Championship win, and the mood changed immediately.
You wanted my blood, but then you introduced gold into the picture.
…
And it has been a long, long time since I’ve had gold.
At Retribution, there were no smoke and mirrors, y’know. There was no controversy; I won, you lost. But the story you tell is never about how good Evan Envi did. The story is always about how Molly Reid wasn’t at her best. As if you have the sustained credibility to SAY something like that! Like…
That makes me sick, man. Why does it always have to be like… YOU wrestled like garbage at Retribution or YOU had a bad night? Why’s it so absurd to think that after nine years in the game, I just might have a set of skills you don’t? Why’s it so absurd to believe that when Molly Reid and Evan Envi met one-on-one for the first time ever, Evan Envi WON fair and square because he had a legit better night? And mind you, it’s not that you lost but that I won.
I overwhelmingly exceeded your expectations and your expectations should be SOOO much higher. They should’ve been then and they should be off the charts now, mannn, I swear.”
In the darkness, we hear Envi shuffling. There is the crinkling and unfolding of paper before Evan speaks, softly, steadily:
”Shut up and just watch me. Watch me as I defend this championship. Watch me as I beat anyone that stands in front of me. Watch me as I become the greatest Pride Champion in FGA history. Watch me make each and every one of you eat your words. And all of that, everything I’ve talked about, that all starts on Saturday night.”
In the darkness, we hear the crinkling and folding of paper. We hear Envi shuffling. And again, softly, steadily:
”You said that. And then I beat you.
It wasn’t as complicated then. Somehow.
I thought for a little bit that this had shifted away from the supposed harm I caused you and had become about the Pride Championship that I started to become obsessed with in place of you. BUUUT poking the beast became far too tempting and real quick-like I found myself caught in this-- this-- this cycle that I can’t seem to get out of with you, man. Hah.
I always tell myself when I’m walking through the back that this thing between us is gonna be over after I take your Pride Championship but sometimes I wonder if it’s about more than that, even to me. Like… I catch myself thinking that even after I take the title away from you and become a FAIR representation of the Pride Title, that I just wanna keep beating you like I did with that camera. I keep thinking that maybe I just keep stomping on you. Keep smashing that title belt into your face. Into your body.
And then I realize… why SHOULD I?!
Why SHOULD I validate you after I become the new FGA Pride Champion? Huh? Why should I even look in your direction again after I beat you? I know that taking this belt away, turning my back, and never looking at you again, TWO VICTORIES IN A ROW, that would eat you alive. That would take you to a dark place that the wrestling world hasn’t seen Molly Reid go to and WON’T see Molly Reid go to until she loses absolutely everything. And with no disqualifications for our Pride Championship match this is a perfect opportunity for somebody to lose… everything.
I know how this should favor you though. You, being a trained fighter, being angry, being ticked-off because of all the ‘terrible things’ I put you through-- you have no referee telling you to back off when I duck into the ropes. You have nobody telling you that your chokehold is illegal. You have nobody pulling the chair out of your hands when you go to wrap it around my skull. But I’ve already seen how far you’re willing to go. I know that what I felt back in B…”
Evan pauses. He draws a breath.
”...I know what happened in Boston wasn’t even a fraction of what you wanted.”
For several moments, Evan is quiet. There is nothing clearly audible in the background other than the faint, rhythmic sound of his breathing.
”But you’re not gonna get what you want, Molly. That’s over.
I wanted to beat you at Retribution and become the number one contender to the Pride Championship and I did. And I want to beat you again at Final Frontier, no-disqualifications and no holds barred, taking away the same title that you’ve been holding FRICKIN’ HOSTAGE for the past three months! AND THE REASON, MOLLY REID, THAT’S INCLINED TO HAPPEN, IS BECAUSE I AM A BETTER WRESTLER THAN YOU!
Don’t let that get lost in the war of the words and the flurry of emotions, dangit! For everything we’ve been through from August until this moment, for as much as you have improved and for as angry and savage and RECKLESS as you have become, I am a better wrestler than you.
No matter what you pull at Final Frontier, you’re gonna be a step behind and a dollar short, not because you weren’t at your best but because I am a better wrestler than you.
You are going to lose, Molly. And your loss has nothing to do with what you weren’t able to do. It has nothing to do with how much you’ve learned since losing to Johnny Karma or how mad you are, or how many hours of sleep you lost arguing with Risky or Zero about how much you’re REALLY worth in this business. It has nothing to do with how little you think of me. It has nothing to do with your actions.
But because I am a better wrestler than you.
And maybe if I had just realized that, shut up, and moved on from the beginning you would’ve never found that rage in the first place and I would be the Pride Champion already. Hah.
That would’ve been simple. And instead… things are complicated. But it’ll be real clear-- real simple after Final Frontier.
I’m sorry I ever doubted how angry you were, Molly. But you’re gonna be sorry you never realized how good I was.
It should’ve never been this complicated.”