The Kasey Homestead
London, England
The residency of Brianna and Garrett Kasey in which they shared with Brianna and Miles’s mom, Mora, was one of relatively quiet calm and familiarity - at least on this day. The house was empty, save for Miles himself and his niece and nephew. Morrigan was sound asleep in the playpen in the corner of the living room, surrounded by an army of stuffed toys, all standing guard over their little charge. Riley busied himself playing with an impressive array of toys that Carter and Miles had gifted him, much to Brianna and Garrett’s chagrin.
Miles and Carter had taken their duties as the “fun uncles” seriously when they had taken their nephew and niece on a little outing to give their parents a little time to themselves. Of course, had Mom and Dad known what was to come, they might have put a little more thought into the Uncles having free reign for that morning. Because Carter and Miles took the children to the nearest toy store - which just so happened to be Hamleys. This store was, in Carter’s own words, what Toys R Us had strived to be. With a massive selection, it was the prime spot for the Uncles to commence spoiling.
Being less than five months old, the baby just watched from Carter’s arms as they offered one soft plush after another. That was until Miles dangled an Eeyore plush in front of her and her little hands snatched onto it like it was a life preserver. And the moment Eeyore’s nose went in her mouth, the decision was made. Carter then insisted that she couldn’t have just Eeyore without one of each of his ‘friends’ from the Hundred Acre Woods, so plushies of Whinnie the Pooh, Piglet and the rest of the gang were added to her tally.
Riley had struck it rich with his Uncles spoiling him as well, what with toys like the Hot Wheels Shark Car Wash and others. But it was the Sneaky, Snacky Squirrel Game that had both the three year old and his Uncle engrossed. That was until Miles heard the unlocking of the front door and turned his head to see his twin sister entering her home.
“You’re home early.” Miles observed, his sister working as an Esthetician. Brianna paused, taking in the sweet scene and privately felt that her children didn’t get to see enough of her brother - or his husband. Brianna dropped her keys in the ceramic seashell on the accent table beside the front door and she said casually, “I had a light schedule today.”
She then paused and looked around, then found herself asking, “Where’s Carter and Mum?”
Miles, his attention focused solely on the tweezers in the shape of a squirrel, trying to pick up a pebble in the game, answered, “Mum took Carter to her store to explore a bit.” Miles glanced up and added, “I’m hoping she can get him to open up a little.”
To which his sister nodded, having learned from Miles earlier in the week Carter was going through some self doubt issues and needed an impartial ear. It was one of the main reasons they were here - not that Carter knew that. Brianna then asked, “Didn’t you say Carter loved to read?”
Miles nodded, “Mm. He usually has his nose buried in a book in his down time.”
“And he’s something of a shop-o-holic?” She added, her eyebrows raised.
Miles laughed, “Carter got a wedding invite from two different Amazon delivery drivers!”
Brianna then said, her tone taking on a trace of amusement at her brother’s expense, “So you sent him to Mum’s bookstore, a place he might feel obligated to support?”
Miles glanced up, staring at Brianna and she could tell the moment the reality struck him as his eyes went wide and he pursed his lips, “Ooo! I didn’t think of that!”
Brianna sighed, walking past him and she patted him on the shoulder, “Carter’s lucky you’re cute.”
*****
On a side street in London’s Bloomsbury district, there was a small shopping district that favored the tastes of more independent shops and cafes that tended to draw the attention of the tourists and passers by. But there was something special about these smaller shops, particularly the book store that stood nestled between a cafe and a flower shop. It radiated a quaint and timeless charm, its exterior a deep red brick with black awnings over the windows which displayed a variety of employee recommended reads. Golden fairy lights lined the underside of the awning that protected the small exterior nook with two round tables for patrons to sit and enjoy a coffee and a read in the fresh air. And above the door - the name of this locally owned business - “A Likely Story”. This store was the dream realized by the matriarch of the Kasey clan, the very woman who pulled her Nissan Leaf into the reserved parking spot.
Mora stepped out of the driver’s side, followed by her son-in-law, Carter. The young man never grew tired of visiting London, and to discover his mother-in-law was the proprietor of her very own bookstore absolutely enthralled him. She watched with no small amount of pride as Carter’s eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in. The window displays. The chalkboard on the pavement that announced local poetry nights and book club meetings. Even the ivy that perfectly framed the front door held a special charm to it. Carter turned to Mora who had joined him at his side and he asked, “This is yours?”
To which she nodded with a smile as she took his arm as a lady does and they walked toward the entrance. Carter took the initiative to open the door for her and he followed her inside and whatever he had expected to find inside failed by comparison.
Well-loved novels from local authors took prominence in this store’s displays; names such as Richard Osman and Colleen Hoover. Obscure titles and handpicked staff favorites along with the usual popular and classics titles by more well known authors filled out the displays. Soft lighting cast a golden glow over reading nooks with comfortable chairs, some filled by the store’s patrons. Mora followed Carter as he found himself exploring, savoring at first that scent of paper that any avid reader could recognize. Then his nostrils took in a new scent as he turned a corner to find a small coffee counter, all the better to draw in readers who enjoyed a coffee while reading something new. Behind the counter, a chalkboard menu listed local drinks and homemade pastries.
“I should have known you would have zeroed in on the coffee.” Mora half joked, well aware of Carter’s coffee addiction. He turned to respond when the pair were interrupted by a cheery voice, “I didn’t know you were coming in today!”
Carter turned to find an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties and to be perfectly honest, resembled Diane Wiest from the film “Practical Magic”. She approached the pair with a charming grace and the type of friendly familiarity that made you instinctively just adore her.
Mora answered her, “I wasn’t planning to, but I wanted to show my son-in-law around.” And that was all the woman had to hear for a gasp, but not one of shock but a delighted surprise.
“Is this Miles’s husband?” She gushed, her older eyes sparkling almost with the delight of a girl a third her age.
“It is.” Mora answered. “Carter? This is my dearest friend, Cora Adkins. She manages the store. Cora, this is Carter…”
Carter took a step forward to offer Cora his hand but found himself suddenly enveloped in a big hug, the woman reacting as if he was some long lost relation, exclaiming, “Oh it’s so nice to meet you!” While Carter himself reacted with surprise, “Oh! You’re a hugger! That’s alright. I am too.”
Carter finally managed to separate himself from the syrupy sweet friend of Mora’s. She then looked over his shoulder to Mora and said, “I’ll just leave you two alone.”
Carter watched her walk back behind the counter piled high with books and he turned to Mora and observed, “I bet she knows the words to every Mary Poppins song, doesn’t she?” To which Mora took his arm again and allowed him to guide her as he explored her store.
Carter instinctively wandered to the fantasy section, his preferred genre of books. His eyes roamed over the selection of titles when he stopped on one in particular: a very nice hardcover edition of the Lord of the Rings.
“Carter, what are you doing?” Mora asked as she watched Carter pulled the volume from the shelf and tuck it into his arms. He sheepishly glanced around until he shifted his eyes to her and answered, “Uhhh, we’re in a bookstore? I’m buying a book.”
“You’re my son’s husband.” Mora stepped up, pointing to the volume in his possession. “Do you honestly think I’d charge you?”
But Carter proved to be equally as stubborn, stating, “You’re Miles’s Mom. Do you really think I wouldn’t support your business?” Leaving her without an immediate response but still, a pleasant feeling as she watched him continue to explore.
He picked up an edition of the literary classic, “the Picture of Dorian Gray” and finally, his gaze fell on “The Priory of the Orange Tree” by Samantha Shannon, its vibrant cover and promise of dragons too tempting to resist. That was when Mora felt best to reel him in, stating, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now before that son of mine has a fit.” Pulling him away before Carter could make for the small table adorned in rainbow colors and filled with books representing the LGBTQ community for the upcoming Pride month….
*****
Carter had just settled into a corner table near the window, his newly chosen books stacked neatly beside him, when Mora appeared with two steaming cups. She slid one across the table to him with a smile, the rich aroma of roasted beans curling between them before taking the seat opposite him. Carter nodded his thanks and took a drink, savoring the surprisingly rich and flavorful taste.
That was when he found his mother-in-law's hand covering his own, drawing his attention to her warm, caring expression. She said “So, how have you been?”
“Me?” He questioned, seemingly caught off guard. “I'm fine. Miles and I are doing…”
“Carter,” Mora said softly, her fingers curling around his own. “I'm not asking about you and Miles. I want to know how you're doing.” Emphasis on the "you're”.
Carter stared into her eyes, trying to decipher what brought this on when it suddenly struck him. The answer. He closed his eyes and exhaled, “Miles talked to you, didn't he?”
“Of course he did.” Mora answered calmly. “Why else do you think he decided to take a detour from the capital of romance to visit home? He's worried about you.”
Carter shook his head “He doesn't have to…”
“Well he is.” She cut him off. “You know that son of mine. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He makes other people's troubles his own.”
“It’s one of the reasons why I love the man.” Carter said with a smile, setting his coffee down. “But he can’t keep doing that for his own mental health. Plus, this is as much a professional issue as it is personal. And Miles isn’t exactly impartial when it comes to my career.”
“He wants what’s best for you.” Mora smiled. “Being confident in someone you love isn’t a terrible trait.”
Carter said, “I know. He’s my biggest supporter. But with what’s going on, I think what I need is the exact opposite. That’s why my first instinct was to call my own Mom.”
“What do you mean?” Mora frowned. “Doesn’t your Mom support your career?”
“She never wanted me to be involved in wrestling.” Carter answered, shaking his head. “Every time I get hurt, it’s just another tally on her list of why I should get out of the sport. She and Grams barely watch my matches because it scares them so much.”
“That last match must have really done a number on them.” Mora observed, to which Carter nodded and said, “Yeah. My phone was lighting up before I ever made it to the hospital and … Wait, you watch?”
“Of course I do.” She said, “I might not be the biggest fan of wrestling but I am a fan of my son. And you.” She gave his hand a shake. “So talk to me.”
“I couldn’t even talk to my own therapist.” Carter shook his head, even though deep-down he felt the need to confide in someone. “I didn’t come all the way to London just to unload on you.”
Mora took Carter’s hand and wrapped it in her own, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. She said, “You listen to me, Carter. I have always - always - told my kids that they could come to me wherever they needed someone. And like it or not, for better or worse, you’re one of my kids now.”
Their eyes remained on one another’s until Carter’s lips turned upright in a smile and he nodded. He picked his almost forgotten coffee up again and slowly confided, “I really don’t even know what’s wrong with me. That’s the problem. I was fine going into the Elimination Chamber, even though everyone thought I’d never make it to the end. Then even after I did win, I was left wondering if I even should have because Jayden was a sitting duck thanks to Vincent Lyons.”
“Questioning the past is not going to do you any good.” Mora observed, her chin resting on her curled fingers. “You can’t change the past and if you continue wondering ‘what if,’ you’ll drown in self doubt.”
“Yeah, well… I’m already at that point.” Carter admitted in defeat. “I’ve had so many chances at the World Championship - and every time I’ve fallen flat on my face. In the tournament, I was eliminated in the first round. I challenged Finn and he beat me. Hell! Alex Jones even beat me and he hasn’t shut up about it since.”
Mora just sat there listening rather than intervene, knowing he needed to vent. Carter continued, “And ever since our match was made official, I keep having people tell me that I’m a failure. I always come close to the gold but I’m unable to go that extra mile to actually win it. Alex especially has been running me down, telling the world I don’t have what it takes to get the job done.”
“I imagine he means fighting dirty.” Mora said, to which Carter nodded. “It looked like you did pretty well for yourself when you were fighting with him. You’re not the one who was left running away.”
“I know.” Carter whispered. “I just-”
“You can’t let him get into your head, Carter.” She said, "That’s exactly what he wants: to throw you off your game before it even begins. You’ve trained too hard and come too far to let kindergarten mind games unravel everything. Stay focused on what you can control, not the noise he’s trying to make. Trust your instincts, trust your training. Block him out and play your game. Not his.”
Carter sat still as Mora’s words settled around him. He didn’t speak or nod, his hand still held lovingly by the woman seated across from him. Slowly, his shoulders eased, and his breath came a little more evenly. He looked up and into her eyes and just smiled.
“Thank you.”
The room was bathed in white - from floor to ceiling, and entirely empty save for the matching sofa and desk. The uniform whiteness reflected the overhead track lighting intensely, erasing depth and distorting perception, evoking feelings of isolation and sterility. Without any decor, the mind may begin to drift inward, amplifying thoughts and emotions.
The lone door that was almost invisible opened and in walked Miles Kasey in bleach-white scrubs, carrying a mannequin draped in a straight jacket with a magazine’s likeness of Alex Jones pasted on its face. Miles nonchalantly dropped the mannequin onto the sofa and turned to look off camera.
“Oy! That basketcase patient of yours is ready doc!”“Ah! Excellen Seig Heil!” A voice with an obviously fake German accent called out. And there in the camera's range walked Doctor Carter Von Bottom. Clad in a suit, his hair clicked back, thick rimmed glasses and to top it off, a pointy beard glued to his chin. He stepped up to the sofa and as he left, Miles was unable to resist grabbing a handful of the good doctors backside.
Dr Carter watched as his aide took his leave before he turned back toward his patient, the viewpoint being from the mannequin itself seemingly.
“So! You haf kome to me Alex Jones fur help since you haf a problem vitt your noodle!” He tapped a forefinger to his temple before clasping his hands behind his back.
“Zis is fery good! I always tell mein patients zat ze first schtep to recovery is admittingkt zat you haf a problem. Undt between you undt me…”He leaned in closer toward the patient.
“I haf never met a more problematic man above ze neck zan you Alex Jones. You are a vorld class azzlete who has been respected by fan undt peer alike, undt here you schtand - or lay - ready to yust throw it all aside. Just fur ze sake un taking ze easy vay out razzer zan earn your vay to your position as you vere once known to do. You cheat, Alex. or shall ve say, your schtrumpet Aaron Asphyxia, cheats for you. Undt vhile ze respectable zing vould be fur you to earn vhat you haf, much like vhen Aaron lays on your bed undt gives you ze full cowgirl, you take ze easy vay out.”Doctor Carter began to pace back and forth in front of the patient.
“Now you must ask, vhy iz zis? Vhy do I cheat vhen I haf proven many times zat I do not need to? To get to ze root uff ze problem, ve must first explore vhy so many ozzers in sports uff all kinds feel ze need to cheat. People cheat in sports for a variety uff reasons, often schtemmingkt from a desire to vin at all kosts, wezzer for fame, financial reward, or personal ego. It iz ze allure uff victory, ze pressure to perform, undt even personal feelings uff inadequacy zat kan all contribute to cheatingkt behaviors.”
“For some athletes, vinningkt isn't just about ze trophy, but about proving zeir worth undt maintainingkt a positive self-image. At zis schtage uff your career, Alex, zis might just be ze answer zat ve seek. You vant people to remember you beingkt at your very best, even vhen zey are vatchingkt you at your vorst. For men like you, any attention is goot attention.”
“Vhile it is true zat some athletes may feel zey lakk zee natural ability or hafe an injury zat prefents zem from performink optimally, leadink zem to cheat to compensate. In your kase, zis is far from true because you have proven many times in zee past zat you neet not go zee low road to achieve ultimate viktory. You serft as a vonderful example to zee younger generations - both fan ant peer alike. So vhy zen do you not compete nov as sie dit once before?”
“Could it be because you look at zee kurrent playink field, your fellow wrestlers in zee locker room, ant sie see zem as younger. More fit? Perhaps efen shtrategikally superior inside of zee ring? If zis is zee case, zen zee answer voult be klear. Zee shtrong desire to excel ant outperform others can also kontribute to cheating, as athletes may see it as a vay to level zee playink fielt or gain an unfair advantage.”
“Or, could it be simple because…”Dr Carter proceeded to remove first his glasses and then he stripped the fake pointy beard from his chin and he stared hard into the camera.
“Because you’re a fucked up asshole with all the morals and self respect of Donald Trump on his knees beneath the desk in the Oval office, giving blowjobs to Vladimir Putin!?”Reaching back blindly behind him, Carter grabbed the one lone chair in the office and swiftly pulled it close behind him and dropped to it, still staring into the camera - IE the patient Alex Jones.
“Why don’t I just do the both of us a favor Alex and cut the bullshit? You can try to delve into the psyche of any one person who cheats in sports but there is one universal truth amongst the many: they are not victims. You - are not a victim! The truth of the matter is that your moral compass is obviously broken! Or maybe it was just never installed. You're like a GPS for ethical dilemmas, leading everyone straight into a pit of shame and regret. It really is impressive how you can navigate your life with a sense of right and wrong that’s as nonexistent as your ability to make a decent decision. Which leaves me to wonder, just what the rest of Wolfslair think of your recent life choices? In retrospect, I would like to think they remember just how you thoroughly chastised and reprimanded Miles for when he attacked Finn from behind. You lashed out at him verbally for his actions, leading such names as Alicia Lukas and Austin James Mercer to agree and turn their backs on Miles, acting as if the man never even existed!”
“And then you turn around and do not the same, but much worse. You beat the shit out of Finn badly enough that you ended up getting yourself disqualified. You pressured the higher ups for a rematch so that you could tie up your loose ends and what did you do? Oh we all know what you did! You embarrassed yourself and dragged the reputation of Wolfslair down into the mud by relying on Aaron to win the championship for you! I can’t recall Alicia ever needing help in order to pull off a win! Even at his worst, when did Austin ever have to rely on outside interference to pull off one of his many impressive wins? Maybe, just maybe… Everyone else in Wolfslair is about to open their eyes and see you for what you’ve become; a hypocritical shell of his former self! A blight on this sport that is going to drag their names down with you, the longer they bother associating with you!”Carter stood up so fast that the swivel office chair beneath him was sent spinning back, settling hard against the desk.
“So let me ask you this, Alex. Why now? Before that first title match against Finn, you seemed quite content with your role in catering and being at best, a mid card Superstar. So what crawled up your ass and made you change your outlook on things? Because let’s face facts; your head is so far up your ass that it’s probably wher4e you do your best thinking! I am going to hazard a guess here and theorize that you decided that you were at a pretty late stage of your career. There’s been whispers in the locker rooms about that back injury of yours long before Finn Whelan ever made it public. And the rumors of a possible imminent retirement had tongues wagging for months. And yet there you were! Sitting in the background, away from the cameras and listening, allowing all of these people to give voice to your own self doubts. Your back concerned you as it should, and everything they had to say was only making it worse. You wondered how much longer you could go on inside of the ring from a physical standpoint and here your peers and the fans were speculating the same! Maybe even thinking it was time that you hung up your boots and let the younger generation take control and lead things from hereon in. And that right there is where you snapped.”
“Because when all is said and done, you are a self-admitted, self absorbed, egomaniacal twat waffle! You were watching the younger generation Superstars like myself take center stage and you just couldn't stand to share the spotlight! You truly believed that the further up the ladder men like me made it, the farther down you were getting pushed! So you shoved us out of the way and went to take back the spotlight that quite frankly, at this point in your career, you didn't deserve!”
“Try something new for a change Alex, and be honest. Who the hell did you defeat to earn that title match against Finn in the first place? You can't say that you beat Miles because for all your bravado and bluster, he took you to the absolute limit in a time limit draw! Yet somehow the very next week you get announced as the Challenger against Finn!”Carter held out his arms in stark disbelief at the reasoning.
“I don't know if you played nice and played some bullshit political agenda with Mark or Christian, but in no way did you deserve that title match! Even less so did you deserve the rematch afterwards because you fucking blew it! You got disqualified by your own accord! And yet you have the balls to strut out here and question my validity as to why I'm your challenger!? At least I earned my place against you! At least I had the balls to step inside the Elimination Chamber which is a hell of a lot more than you can say! I had to go through six other men in order to get this chance against you for the Championship! I even went so far as to fight my own husband to get to this point, so don’t ever fucking tell me that I don’t have what it takes to go the distance against you! Don’t you believe for one second that I am not in my rightful place because I am exactly where I belong!”
“But you, Alex? It is truly impressive how you've managed to stumble upon success recently without even breaking a sweat. I mean, who knew that being an ass kisser and ‘being in the right place at the right time was an actual talent? Bravo!”Carter applauded openly and quite brazenly.
“Alex, your success is like a participation trophy for a race you were too slow to even enter. It’s a pity that mediocrity can still find a way to stumble into the spotlight. You're like a broken pencil: pointless and always trying to take shortcuts, but in the end, you just prove that cheating is the only way you can even pretend to compete against men who have a longer and brighter future in this business than you could ever pretend to.”
“And yes.”Carter nodded knowingly, but there was anything but merriment or even sarcasm in his eyes. It was something harder - darker.
“I am well aware I probably said some things that you were expecting. But in my defense, it's hard not to be predictable Alex. One can only say so much of variety week after week when dealing with an asshole that's as one dimensional as you are. It's like your personality took a shortcut through a flat field and forgot to pick up any depth along the way! You are not the unique and trail blazing star that you like to believe yourself to be! Do you think yourself unique? Do you believe that you’re something special and that everyone around you looks on in envy?” Carter rolled his eyes.
“Bitch! You are not the special snowflake that you’ve led yourself to believe! Trust me when I say this: that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wrestling promotions around the world - and in every single one of those promotions, there is a man just like you! When God or whatever deity you may choose to believe in made you, he, she or they did not break the mold! They just took one look at you and hit factory reset and churned out one right after the other! Hoping to eventually get it right but thus far have fallen short. You're like something limited edition. Everyone pretends to care, but deep down, we all know you're just another common print in a world full of masterpieces.”Carter nodded.
“Yeah. You got one over on me. But here’s the thing: that was back in March. You act as if it was a cakewalk but it took two of your curb stomps to put me down! I gave you a bigger fight than you were ready for and deep down, that’s what got into your head. The fact that you practically passed out from the pain and exhaustion to pin me in that match. And when I won the Chamber, you realized that you and I were going to meet again but this time? The stakes would be higher. So you went the extra mile with the insults, telling me that I didn’t deserve to be where I am now. How I always get close to the brass ring, only to let it slip from out of my grasp. Sound familiar, Alex?”
“And all this time, you thought that you were in my head when the opposite has been true.”Carter took a step closer to the door and opened it up, giving the camera one last look.
“I’m in your head now Alex, and after you see me holding up what used to be your precious World Heavyweight title? You’ll never get me out!”He slammed the door shut behind him.
