Home Is Not a Test
The house was quiet when Alicia pulled into the driveway.
Not silent, never silent with four children, but the soft, lived-in quiet of a home settling into itself. Porch light on. Curtains half-drawn. A pair of sneakers abandoned near the door, one on its side like it had given up halfway through the day.
She sat in the car for a moment longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel, forehead tipped forward until it touched the cool leather. The airport still clung to her, recycled air, too many thoughts packed too tightly together. The conversation with her mother replayed itself in fragments, not as dialogue anymore, but as feeling.
You don’t quit.
They don’t need perfect.
Tell him that.
Alicia exhaled and stepped out of the car.
Inside, the smell of dinner lingered, something tomato-based, something warm. Evidence that life had continued while she’d been gone. That it always did. She set her bag down by the stairs and kicked off her shoes. The championship belt stayed in the bag this time. For once, she didn’t need it as proof of anything. Austin’s voice carried from the living room. “Hey, careful, buddy, that’s not a—” A crash, followed by laughter. One of those sounds. The kind that meant no one was hurt and everyone would remember it later. Alicia smiled despite herself.
She stepped into the living room doorway and stopped.
Austin was on the floor, cross-legged, one of his younger kids climbing over his back like he was a jungle gym, while one of her boys sat nearby with a controller clutched in his hands, narrating something intense and entirely incoherent. The television was on mute, forgotten. Austin looked up and saw her. The moment stretched, just a heartbeat, before his face softened into relief. “You’re home.”
The kids noticed her all at once after that. A chorus of “Mom!” and “Alicia!” and feet pounding across carpet. She dropped to her knees automatically, arms wrapping around whoever reached her first, then the rest piling in. The familiar chaos grounded her in a way nothing else could. She breathed them in. This. This was real. When the hugs loosened and the kids scattered again, back to games and arguments and snacks, Austin stood and crossed the room, pulling her into his arms without hesitation. No questions yet. No pressure. Just solid warmth.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded against his chest. “I think so.”
He kissed the top of her head. “We’ve got leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“Later,” she said. Then, after a pause, “Can we talk?”
His arms tightened slightly. Not alarmed. Just attentive. “Yeah, Of course.” They waited until the kids were occupied again, not asleep, but distracted enough to give them space, and retreated to the kitchen. Alicia leaned against the counter while Austin poured two glasses of water, sliding one toward her before leaning back against the opposite bench. She watched him for a moment.
This man who had stepped into her life without trying to replace anyone, without asking her to be smaller, without demanding simplicity from something inherently complicated. This man who loved her boys as fiercely as his own, who never once made her feel like she had to choose. And yet, she’d been afraid. “I talked to my mom,” Alicia said finally.
Austin raised his eyebrows slightly. “That sounds… intense.”
She huffed out a weak laugh. “Yeah. It was.” He waited. Always did. “I told her I feel like I’m failing. All the time. Like no matter where I am, I’m supposed to be somewhere else.” Her fingers curled against the countertop. “And I realized… I’m scared. Not of the wrestling. Not really. I’m scared of letting you down.”
Austin’s expression didn’t change, not shock, not disappointment, just focus. “Alicia…”
She kept going, afraid that if she stopped she’d lose her nerve. “I feel like I disappear into my own head sometimes. I shut you out. I convince myself that if I slow down or ask for help, everything I’ve built will fall apart. And then I worry that one day you’ll wake up and realize you married someone who’s never fully present.”
The words landed heavy between them. Austin crossed the kitchen and took her hands gently, grounding her. “Hey, Look at me. I need you to hear this,” he continued. “You could never let me down by being human.” Her throat tightened. “You show up, You show up even when you’re exhausted. Even when you’re scared. Even when you don’t think you’re enough. Do you have any idea how much that means to the kids? To me?” She shook her head slightly. “They don’t need a perfect version of you,” he said, echoing her mother without knowing it. “They need you. And they have you. All of you.”[/color]
Alicia swallowed hard. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Austin smiled, small and steady. “You already tried that. Didn’t work.” She laughed weakly, tears threatening. “We’re a blended family,” he continued. “Which means we’re messy by definition. Four kids, two histories, one life we chose to build together. There’s no standard we’re failing to meet.” He squeezed her hands. “Look around. This is a happy home. Not because it’s perfect. Because it’s honest.”
She leaned into him, forehead resting against his chest. “I’m scared,” she admitted quietly.
“I know,” he said. “But you’re not alone in it.” They stood there for a while, the sounds of the kids drifting in from the other room, grounding and imperfect and alive. Alicia felt something loosen inside her, not the fear entirely, but the grip it had on her. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was standing on a fault line. She felt like she was standing on something solid. Later, when they finally sat together on the couch, one child curled against each of them, Alicia rested her head on Austin’s shoulder and let herself be still. Not because she had earned rest. But because she belonged here. And that, she realized, had never been in question.
Generational
”Merry fuckin’ Christmas….”
Alicia Lukas and her Southern twang open us up. A black leather jacket over a black cropped Machine Head T-shirt. Her long hair hangs down as she wears a pair of circular sunglasses.
”I decided to give you all a little bit of a Christmas gift. I got into the ring, and I once again continued my dominance over the Zdunich/Hilton family. Even though Crystal and Seleana are no longer together, they are being lumped into one group. And that entire family has been nothing but my bitches since the second I stepped foot into SCW. And here I am, the Roulette Champion, facing women who are apparently good enough to be going for the World Championship but not good enough to beat me. Are you kidding me? Make it make sense. You sit there and justify how she is getting a title shot and how she is facing her ex-wife while the rest of us sit here and watch.”
“Why? Because of some bullshit personal issue that they should be settling in divorce court instead of in the ring? If Austin and I got divorced, would we then get into the ring and try and beat the hell out of each other? Would we be doing that while our friends and family watch us on television? Would this company promote the hell out of what is essentially domestic violence? How does this make any sort of sense? It doesn’t.”
“Crystal is a fake paper champion. Seleana is a shoehorned challenger.”
“And I’m a pissed-off veteran. A veteran that has done nothing but elevate this division and this company since I stepped foot in here all those years ago. And it’s something that I’m forced to do again, this time with a different championship in a different division. A division that so many others didn’t want anything to do with. A division that thrives on chaos and unpredictability. And as we head into our usual Christmas show, where all proceeds go to a great cause, all I can think of is that the match that is going to happen for me is one that is truly special. And it is one that you should all enjoy too, because you are going to be watching two generational talents go at it one on one.”
Alicia sighs heavily and looks over her shoulder at a mountain of toys that she has purchased to donate. Say what you want about Alicia, she loves children and will do anything to make sure they have a good Christmas.
”Wrestling families and dynasties are a dime a dozen in this business now. This business has been going on long enough that we have entire families involved. And it doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down. We have mothers and fathers and siblings and cousins and entire bloodlines running roughshod over the professional wrestling world. But not all bloodlines are created equal, and not all wrestling families are going to be filled with champions or able to succeed in ways that scare everyone else. In fact, if I look at my family and the Madison family, there are a lot of differences—and not always in the best way possible.”
She trails off and shakes her head before getting to her feet with a slow groan.
”See, Bella and I come from a similar background of having at least one parent who was in this business. In her case, both her mother and her father are fucking legends. Nick Madison and Laura Phoenix. Champions. Respected. The entire wrestling world knows them both, and as such, Bella has had to grow up in their shadow. And it must be hard. Not just because of her father’s neck, but also because her mother is someone all of us looked up to. Someone all of us respect. My dream opponent on a big stage, one on one, is Laura Phoenix. Growing up, I remember watching her matches, and I was always in shock—shocked at how good she was. While so many others in this business, as women, were too busy taking off their clothes, Laura Phoenix fell in love with the sport of professional wrestling. Laura Phoenix was professional wrestling.”
“And Bella, you have had to live up to that legacy. And it isn’t easy, is it? Looking at your parents and knowing that you have to follow in their footsteps and somehow eclipse them? It’s a lot harder for you than it is for me. Let me be clear on this. My family is not the same as yours. Your parents were legends—titans in this industry. My dad was a decent professional wrestler. A seven-foot-tall monster who made his name in Japan but was barely known in his home country. My younger sister is decent, but doesn’t have the same passion that I have and is now living the quiet life as a personal trainer. My brother barely got his career off the ground. I am the only one who has had a real career. I am the titan of my family. I am a trailblazer in my family.”
“You… you haven’t been able to reach those heights.”
“And that is where you and I are different, Bella. You are great because of your name. You are great because of your family. I’m great in spite of my family.”
“I love the idea of this match. And I’m not going to sit here and say that you don’t have talent, because the truth is—you are one of the most talented women in this division and in this company. You should be facing Crystal for the World Championship. You should be the one who is going to try and break through that glass ceiling. But you’re not. Instead, you are going to be facing me in a non-title match on a Christmas show. You don’t even get an opportunity at the Roulette Championship. But a match against me isn’t always about championships. If you beat me? You get something that very few people have. Pride.”
“We both have huge matches coming up on January 11. I’m going to be facing Alexandra Calaway, and you are going to be facing Kayla Richards. So good luck, Bella. Let’s burn the house down.”