X-treme Wrestling Federation

I sit on the couch of my mother's house; which not surprisingly felt a lot emptier when we're the only two inside. Not a thing's been moved since the last time I was here, two years ago. Silence has dominated the early part of this talk we're supposed to be having, neither of us are too willing to be the first one to say anything. What happened to the urgency in her text? Was this all some excuse to get me to walk in the door? She finally looks up from her hands, seemingly shocked that I haven't just gotten up and left yet. To be honest, I'm not so sure why I haven't either.


"So, how have you been?" she finally asks to break the silence. I feel my face getting hotter, and my previously open palms give way to clenched fists that I rest on my lap. Despite my increasing, suffocating anger, I force myself to keep a cool, calm, demeanor, going so far as to feign happiness.


"I've been absolutely fine, thanks for asking." Even with a smile on my face, nothing could stop my voice from falling back into a cold, detached monotone.

"You don't sound fine."

"Oh, I don't? Thank you for the astute observation." Malice; sweet, perky malice bleeds down from my brain and escapes through my vocal chords before I can even think to stop it. Her eyes widen, though I can't help but wonder why. Did she expect me to welcome her sudden need for company with open arms? After two years of nothing?

"You can tell me what's wrong, you know."

"I know I can, that doesn't mean I want to."

"I'm trying, Kendall. Why can't you?"

"Oh, that's the way you want to go with this? Is that right? You're trying?"


I raise my fists up, about ready to throw a punch despite the fact that it would more than likely miss due to the distance between us, when my entire body locks up for a split second, allowing me to think things through. I lower my hands and take a deep breath, which does little to calm down my boiling blood. It feels like someone's pointing a magnifying glass at my veins to kill imaginary ants crawling under my skin.

"Y'know, I'm trying too!"

"Yo-"

"I'm trying my hardest not to knock that fake look of sympathy on your face out of this fucking room that's what I'm trying not to do."

"Kendall-"

"Stop stalling. What do you want from me?"

"Does there always have to be some ulterior motive?" She looks genuinely saddened that she has to ask that question; I don't know how to react to that. Part of me wants to explode in a fit of rage that she would have the gall to even ask that when we both knew the answer would be a resounding yes. The other part of me wants to believe she's telling the truth, but years of this identical type of interaction has made me incredibly cynical, and I doubt that's the case.

"I'm trying to turn over a new leaf here."

"So? What do I care?"

"Come on, I'm your mother."

"...When it's convenient. Just tell me what you want from me so I can get on with my life."

She sighs and looks back down at her hands. I want to feel guilty for my words, but I can't.


"I want to get back together with your father."

Silence. You could hear a feather hit the floor, if such a thing were to happen. I feel like laughing uncontrollably.

"And you're telling me this because... ? It's not like I live with him or anything. If you want to go through with that, go right ahead. Just don't rope me into it."

"I just thought you'd want to know..."

"You thought wrong. May I leave now?"

"Do whatever you want."

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that."

I stand up and smile sincerely for the first time since I walked in the door.


Without so much as a glace backwards, I make my leave as fast as I can before she decided to change her mind.



I guess I wouldn't be able to hide from that much longer, anyway. Without even pulling my phone out of my pocket, I was able to deduce exactly who was calling me and immediately clicked answer. I didn't even press the phone up to my ear for a second before getting bombarded with obscenities from my ever so delightful and wholesome roommate.

"Fuck fuck, fuck fuck fuck! I can't fucking believe you!"

"What?" Playing stupid; my area of expertise. Though sometimes, I'm legitimately unaware of what's going on. That's something I wish I could honestly say right about now, but since there's a limited amount of things she could be this angry about, coupled with the unwavering suspicion she isn't calling me because she noticed I drank milk straight out of the bottle.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, you fucking psycho."

"No, I don't. Can you please remind me?" I don't think she's too happy with me right now.

"Don't fuck with me now, I am not in the mood."

"I don't understand why you're so upset." The figurative lie detector determined, that was a lie.

"I give you an opportunity on a silver fucking platter and you ruin it!"

"You don't know the whole story-"

"I don't care about the whole story. I doubt there's a context where admitting to breaking the law at a job interview is appropriate."

"I don't think there's a reaction appropriate for getting interviewed by your ex boyfriend either."

"Wait, that's what that whole thing was about?"

I nod, because she can totally notice that over the phone. She bursts out laughing before stopping abruptly.

"You are fucking dead. Or, you would be."

"That's an overreaction- wait what?"

"Turns out your little stunt isn't the end of hope for you getting a job. Jacob's cousin works for a company that's always looking for people with a penchant for violence and who tend to exhibit antisocial behavioral tendencies."

"I would hardly call that antisocial-"

"For fuck's sake, Kendall. You told someone you were a criminal with a straight face. I could literally count all the ways that it isn't antisocial before getting halfway through all the reasons it is. Just do whatever you did at your last interview and you should be fine."

"Okay, now I'm concerned. What company is this?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it, thank you very much!"

"Just swing by the apartment, I'll tell you there."

"Why can't you tell me over the phone?"

"Because I wanna see the look on your face."


And just like that, nothing. I slide the phone back into my pocket and step off the front step of my mother's house with a sudden decrease in energy. My heart rate's slowed back down, which is surprising considering the conversation I just had, but I'm not one to worry too much about something that'll help my concentration and won't make my hands shake like a Parkinson's patient hopped up on Caffeine. I walk towards the curb in front of her house where I parked the beaten up sedan I've been driving since I had a license.