HWA Message Board: The Week in Review

The scene opens out onto a small coffee house, the time being mid morning. It’s Sunday and the hustle and bustle of LA is in full swing outside, but in the coffee house, it’s peaceful and calm.

You’re waiting at the counter on your order being made, spending the time idly humming the chorus to ‘Choke’. You’d been playing The Warning’s songs in the car often of late, your wife tolerating them more than some of your other tastes. That had been the particular song to be playing when you’d pulled up and then came inside here.

The next few moments are spent idly zoned out, observant but detached from the surroundings. Had Vanessa been with you right now, she’d half joke about ‘you being in your special place where you go when I’m nagging you’. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth at that thought.

The barista approaches, two takeaway cups in her hands.

(Barista): One large cappuccino and one flat white honey, there ya go.

(Hans): Danke schön.

You take the two coffees, sliding them one by one into a small cardboard takeaway holder.

(Barista): And it’s the two danishes as well, amirite?

You nod affirmatively to this, as she reaches over, taking the already bagged pastries and lifting them up and over the counter for you to take in your other hand.

(Barista): Anything else?

(Hans): Nein, that’s all thank you.

(Barista): Well have a lovely day!

(Hans): You too.

You smile at her, as you move deftly round the next waiting patron and make for the door. This was a regular haunt for you, albeit you were normally here during the working week as it opened early enough for you to be able to make it to opening time for the Academy.

Another smile forms, you were one of the trainers at the Academy, you had a key to the building, there was no ‘opening hours’ as far as it was concerned for yourself.

You make it to the door, standing aside to let the incoming couple through, passing pleasantries as they hold it open for you to make your exit.

The bright sunlight makes you squint, but your aviators had been left in the car.

‘For all the time I’ll be without them…’

You continue to walk and within a few seconds after rounding the corner of the coffee shop, you’re greeted by the sight of your titanium silver Mclaren 765LT Spider, roof up, passenger side door already opened as your wife Vanessa leans out somewhat, hand outstretched towards you.

(Vanessa): I’ll trade you your car keys and shades.

You flash a wry grin at her as you come to a halt outside of her reach, staring down at her.

(Hans): And what makes you think I’m willing to trade?

She matches your grin, as she waggles your aviators in her hand, while patting the drivers side seat with her other.

(Vanessa): I’d be fair in my dealings.

(Hans): Oh would you now mein schatz?

You take the bag containing the pastries, and grip it carefully underneath the cup holder, before extricating your cappuccino, taking a sip of it before then theatrically sighing at it’s taste.

(Hans): What are your terms then?

(Vanessa): One pastry for the car keys…

You nod at the interior of the McLaren and what’s behind her.

(Hans): Which ist still in das ignition…

(Vanessa): Yes…

She quickly glances back, you seemingly both in that moment trying to calculate who could get to it first…

You take another loud sip from the coffee as you concede that you’d never get there in time.

(Vanessa): … you see I’ve kept it there for ease, and also knowing that you’d accept my terms.

A small bob of the head at this, as you take it in.

(Hans): Confident, aren’t we?

(Vanessa): I hold all of the cards.

(Hans): Und I hold the coffee und danishes my love…

A stare-off ensues, not quite unlike a climax to an old Western film.

(Vanessa): You going to give me my coffee Hans?

(Hans): I’m considering it.

(Vanessa): Well give me mine before you go blind, I know I’m radiant just now, but…

She flicks her hair, giggling, as she thrusts out your aviators again.

(Vanessa): C’mon, I’m needing my caffeine mister!

You roll your eyes dramatically, before sighing and very, very slowly, place your coffee cup back into the holder, before gently, carefully extricating hers.

(Vanessa): Any slower babe and this child of ours will be born before I get this coffee.

Her dry remark has you laughing loudly.

Handing her the flat white and the bag of pastries, you gently shut the passenger door before making your way round and open the drivers side door.

Sliding in with practiced ease, you settle your cappuccino into the drinks slot, placing the cardboard takeaway holder into the small nook on the door where it nestles amongst a small cloth for cleaning the McLaren’s interior windows.

You pull the seatbelt on, as you glance at your wife.

(Hans): All strapped in, jah?

(Vanessa): Of course.

You both lean in, kissing one another.

Turning the ignition key, the low rumble of your McLaren’s engine can be felt, causing you to smile once more.

You never get tired of that.

Checking your rear and side mirrors dutifully, you drop the handbrake and gently bring the McLaren out and onto the road once more.

The rustling of the paper bag draws your attention, Vanessa already bringing out one of the danishes.

(Hans): Now there's two there, jah… save one…

(Vanessa): And there’s two people here…

She gently pats her belly, smiling at you sweetly.

(Vanessa): So best drive quickly if you want to have one. Should have bought three…

Your eyes narrow, as you squint/smile, ‘hmm-hmm’ing your response to her, before turning back to focus your attention on the road.

A few moments pass, as you navigate traffic deftly.

A quick side glance at her, as she continues to smile at you before taking and chewing the first bite of her danish.

(Hans): What’s to say I didn’t drop those on the floor?

The side eye and rising eyebrow from her as she observes you briefly, before her eyes drop to the pastry and then back at you.

(Vanessa): Well it tastes so good that it doesn’t matter…

And with that, she takes another bite.

Speaking through the flakes and crumbs, intentionally, you figure, she carries on.

(Vanessa): It just tastes so good honey, you need to try it.

You’re covered in some of the crumbs as you reach across with your right hand, making to grab the bag and causing her to erupt with laughter as she tries to keep it away from you.

Flicking the loose flecks away and brushing them from your top, you settle down for the remainder of the drive, both sharing one last look at one another, mirth filled eyes looking into the other pair.

You return your attention to the road, while Vanessa savours her pastry and sips at her flat white.

As the miles tick on, your mind drifts to the events of the last week.

It had been a full on-week and you didn’t see the coming weeks getting any quieter. Even today, Sunday, a day of rest, well here you were, on the way to the hospital for some scans.

Given your beloved’s previous… ‘complications’, your doctor had scheduled in scans for both her and the child’s wellbeing, and with the second trimester almost upon, now was the time for the latest in the scans to be done.

So here you were, driving to said appointment. Even with the stop for coffee, you were making good time and there would be no mad rush to get into the hospital for the scans… the less said about that second pastry though, the better…

A quick side glance confirms it’s still there in the bag.

‘For now…’

So, Monday. That day had seen you begin as early as always with time in the Academy. You’d been focusing on your cardio and stamina this week, your duties to the trainees being relinquished and into the care of Matthew and the other veterans who now called the Academy home and made up the training staff.

That said, they’d joined you as you racked up laps on the running track outside, though few came close to the tally you’d amassed by the time you’d finally come to a stop. An ice bath followed in short order. The memory of that plunge into the water sends an involuntary shudder up your spine.

Light exercise and stretches followed before some weights.

Before you knew it, it was then Tuesday.

Ring work and training was the order of that day as you’d picked randomly other trainees to face in brief mock matches in rapid succession.

‘A workout for my mind as much as my body.’

Yes, it had been intentionally stepping up to the plate and facing multiple curve balls, but you’d acquitted yourself well, as had the others.

‘Bodes well for the next ones to step up to the main roster…’

Then, you’d found time to say a few words to Maniac. That had been cathartic and a statement of intent.

If he’d found the time to respond, as you were sure he would have by now, well, you’d get round to him in due course.

Wednesday and Thursday merged quickly into one another as you put your body through its paces. You took good care of your body and what you put in, so the occasional sweet treat and daily coffees made little impact.

By the time Friday came around, you’d spent time in the gym. A word or two to the staff had brought up the particular routines for those that were both attending the Academy and participating in Ringmaster.

You’d made it your goal that day to beat them, whether it was in reps or for weights used.

You knew fine well that the same was no doubt happening with the others, that the staff had been so quick to hand you the sheet showed it had been printed up and ready to go.

‘Let them need new sheets for the next one to ask for them then.’

Saturday had seen you stay at home. You were conscious of the need to juggle the demands of being a Ringmaster competitor with also being husband to your wife…

Another side glance, this time taking in her perfectly framed face.

As if feeling your gaze on her, she turns and smiles serenely at you. She pats the paper bag on her lap.

(Vanessa): Kept the second one for you babe.

(Hans): Danke.

Your attention goes back to the road, but not before long you recall your actions from the previous day. The pool out in the back yard was perfect for cardio, Vanessa having joined in at points and at others, made you push her on that inflatable lilo back and forth.

Being reduced to providing her with a ‘lazy river’ as you’d find at a water park wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined part of your Saturday going, but the workout you got from it wasn’t anything to grumble at.

And then spending that night cooking BBQ, or at least, your attempt at it was a good way to cap off the week up till that point. Your father in-law would have pushed you out of the way had he been there though, you just knew it.

It had left you plenty of time to pad around the house though, and while fetching yourself a beer and putting together a virgin mojito for Vanessa, you’d heard her voice come out from her home recording studio.

Her podcast was going well, the metrics were rising in all the right places and she was making a good show of her post-HWA career.

Your heart fills with pride, as you recall walking in, quietly, naturally, with the drink in one hand.

She’s sat at her desk, large earphones over her head partially obscured by her fiery mane of hair.

’There is a big problem on the horizon that we’re already starting to experience.

Problem number one is if you, like me, like listening to the Joe Rogan podcast. So he went over to Spotify and we celebrated it and we were happy to pay that membership… but, for some reason although we’re paying the money he’s still putting ads in the podcast. So I’m in bed listening to an episode when Hans is away across country for Havoc or a PPV, I’m starting to fall asleep and then bam!

You recall her chuckling, putting on a mock deep voice.

’‘This episode is brought to you by Athletic Greens’, know what I’m saying. And they don’t even play them at the beginning like Lex Freedman so I can just skip them and pretend I’ve listened to them… Now some of you may have heard a podcast called Diary of A CEO with Stephen Bartlett, now there’s a lot of controversy at the moment and all the guests seem to contradict each other and say different things. But, they’re all renowned experts, but being an expert isn’t enough because if you think about it, if two companies are suing each other both companies will have experts and those experts, who both work in the same field with one another, they’re going to disagree with each other… with me so far?’

She glances up at you as you come into her eye line, mouthing ‘I love you’, as she reaches for the glass you’re offering her.

Blowing her a kiss, you back out of the room quietly as she carries on speaking animatedly.

‘So, just making some expert doesn’t mean they’re right but you wouldn’t have…’

And now to today.

A few short minutes away and you’d be pulling up to the hospital. You knew there was nothing to worry, the last check had confirmed that there was no underlying issues or concerns. But that flutter at the pit of your stomach still needed that confirmation from the doctor and nurses, so until it came, you’d be on edge.

You’d almost trade places with someone facing a handicap match right now. Almost.

No, today was their day. Priorities. In truth, every day was ‘their’ day. Life was a team effort. Some days you needed more support, other days it was Vanessa that needed it. You were a well oiled machine by this point in your marriage, even though you knew it’d be upended somewhat when your child did finally come into the world.

Vanessa understood the need for you to focus right now on training. The need, right now, for you to be that one that needed more support. There was an end date, when you would swing the dial back in her favour. June 16th.

‘The day after Ringmaster… the first day of my being champion…’

Your aviators hide the steel gaze you sport, as you look ahead, seeing not the road you’re driving on, but the road you’ve yet to surmount. Professor Hoff, Jesse and Legion… Sean, Stu-E, Maniac, Draconis… roster members flash before your eyes and are dismissed in turn.

What was left wasn’t an image of the world title, though you knew exactly what that would look like, having worn it before… nor was it the title meted out to those who triumphed in previous Ringmasters… it was just that knowing deep in his soul that this this was what he needed and wanted. But more than that, the feeling that he could accomplish it.

Another glance at your wife as the hospital comes into view.

‘I have her as an inspiration, how I could I ‘not’ accomplish it?

The scene fades out to black.