Frankie: RP #3 - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum: Warfare Boards (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=6) +--- Forum: Warfare RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=12) +--- Thread: Frankie: RP #3 (/showthread.php?tid=37889)

Frankie: RP #3 - Thaddeus Duke - 08-18-2020 Robert Moses Causeway || West Bay Shore, New York It’s mostly been a quiet ride. I can’t blame him. Frankie is emotionally exhausted and I’m the same way, but for him. The thing about trauma is, you can’t really force someone past it. They have to deal with it and come to terms with it in their own time. Danielle’s funeral was two days ago and Frankie put on the bravest of faces as he stood beside his mothers closed casket accepting condolences and well wishes from many of her friends and former co-workers. As his guardian, I wasn’t sure where my place was, so I just lingered nearby and chatted every now and then with his stepfather Bruce. He seemed like an okay guy with a genuine liking for Frankie. His breath though, reeked of hard liquor. Bruce’s face wasn’t nearly as brave. Financially, Bruce was still recovering from the wedding and honeymoon not that long ago so he didn’t have the means to bury her with dignity. Naturally, I offered to pony up the money but Bruce denied me and had her cremated. Today, Frankie and I are meeting Bruce at Robert Moses State Park, one of Danielle’s favorite places, to spread her ashes and say their final goodbyes. ”You okay bud?” I ask as I figuratively kick myself in the ass. Of course he’s not okay. He’s just 9, Thad, and he just attended the funeral of his mother who was murdered by his own father. He won’t be okay for awhile. If ever. ”Yeah,” he lies quietly as he stares out the window while we cross the bridge toward the park. ”Do you want to talk?” ”Not really.” ”Okay buddy,” I say to him as I rub his head. Slowing the Land Rover to a stop, Bruce waiting for us on the tailgate of his pickup truck, I can’t help but notice the opened, half empty bottle of Jim Beam resting beside him. I’m not judging him, but I know where he’s headed. ”Could you put that away for awhile?” I ask him after winding down my window. ”I’m sorry man, I didn’t realize you guys were here,” he replies, wiping tears from his red swollen eyes. ”It’s cool bro,” I reply. ”Just, we’re here for Frankie, ya know?” Bruce hops off his tailgate and closes it, leaving the bottle in his truck bed. ”Yeah man, I just didn’t realize I wasn’t alone is all.” After turning off the car, Frankie and I exit. I extend my hand to Bruce and he grips it hard as he tries to contain his emotion. Out of instinct, or empathy or whatever you want to call it, I gently pull him into a hug and he takes full advantage of my shoulder, quietly weeping into it. Frankie on the other hand, stands in front of my car and stares out toward the bay. To be perfectly clear, before two days ago, I’d never met Bruce in person, only speaking to him on a few occasions by phone. Yet here he is crying onto the shoulder of a man he hardly knows. Bruce removes himself from my shoulder and regains his composure, turning his attention to Frankie. ”Hey Frankie, how you doin’ little man?” Frankie turns in his direction to acknowledge him, but only shrugs. ”You ready to do this?” he asks of the boy. ”No,” he answers honestly. I feel like a third wheel here and maybe I should. I didn’t know Danielle and I didn’t know Bruce. I do know Frankie though and I have no fucking clue how to help him navigate this part of his life. I never knew my own mother. She was gone from this world before I was ever born again. Bruce holds the box containing Danielle’s ashes in one hand and holds Frankie close to his side as they walk toward the beach. I hang back and lean against the hood of my car, watching them as they wipe tears from their eyes while scattering her remains to the wind. Bruce hits his knees and I move toward them, scared for Frankie’s sake. Retreating back once I remember that I can’t protect Frankie from hurting or grieving. Of course, the boy is a rock for Bruce. Moments later, Bruce has regained his composure and the two are headed back toward me. ”Thank you Thad,” he says with a sniffle. ”I don’t think I’d have been able to do this without him.” ”So you know man, you’re welcome to stay in his life. He’s a great kid.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he cleans up his running nose. ”I appreciate that. Really.” ”Are you ready to go home and get some rest?” I ask, turning to Frankie. He nods in response. ”Get in the car kiddo, buckle up.” Frankie saunters over to the car as I shake Bruce’s hand. ”Take care of him, would ya?” Bruce asks, fighting back tears. ”Of course.” ”He didn’t deserve any of this.” ”No,” I agree with a sigh. ”He definitely didn’t.” ”Francis was her world, ya know?” Looking over at Frankie buckling in and knowing how quickly I grew to love him, I can only imagine how much his mother adored him. ”You take care of yourself, Bruce. If you ever need anything man… just call.” ”Thank you, I appreciate that.” He shakes my hand again and heads for his truck. After entering my car I start the engine and look at Frankie, again, staring out the window at nothing. Nearly lost in my own thoughts, I’m startled back to reality as Bruce knocks on my window. ”I can’t believe I almost forgot,” he says. ”I have something for Francis.” Bruce ventures around the car to Frankie’s opened window. He hands him a stuffed teddy bear. ”A stuffed animal?” ”Yeah,” Bruce says a little sheepishly. ”It’s not just any bear though, this one was made from some of mommy’s clothes.” Frankie looks at the bear in his hands again and back at Bruce. He sniffs the bear and finally lets out a tear before unbuckling and throwing open his door. After jumping out he jumps into Bruce’s arms and hugs him tight. ”Thank you Bruce,” he says quietly. ”You be good now,” he says, fighting back tears. ”Thaddeus will give you a great life.” Clearly he’s far more sure of that than I am. I can give him anything he wants, sure, but I’m not even sure I can give him what it is that he needs. The two release their embrace and Bruce heads back to his truck. Frankie climbs back into the car and looks at me before diving onto me and holding me and his Mama Bear tight as Bruce pulls away. After he lets go of me, he buckles in again and holds his bear in his lap. Things are quiet again all the way to the Long Island Expressway before Frankie breaks his silence. ”Thad?” ”Yeah buddy?” ”What happens after we die?” If I said I had a good answer for him, I’d be bullshitting. I’ve experienced death but that’s not something he needs to know. There’s nothing after death. Just black. Eternal darkness. You don’t know you’re gone. It’s like an everlasting dreamless sleep where you never wake up again. Nothing more. Nothing less. That being what it is, how do you tell a nine year old child that’s searching for some sort of solace, some peace, that his mom is gone, that there is no truth to the afterlife? ”What do you think happens?” I ask him, bouncing his question back to him. Silent in thought for what seems like an eternity, he shrugs his shoulders. ”Probably nothing.” ”No one knows for sure, kiddo,” I find it in me to if not outright lie, to at least skirt the truth of the eternal darkness, nothingness of death. ”The only ones that know for sure, are those that aren’t with us anymore to tell us.” I pray that suffices, that it satisfies his justifiably morbid curiosity. ”If there is a heaven, I know your mommy would want you to carry on and have a wonderful life. I know she’d be watching over you, don’t you think?” I really could use Liz here right about now. I love Frankie and I hurt for him, but women have this instinct to nurture and to say the right thing at the right time. I can do neither of those things. ”I guess so.” He falls quiet again, leaning on his bear and staring into the great void outside his window. ”I’m tired,” he says quietly. ”Take a nap. We’ll be home in a couple hours and you can curl up with Mufasa and watch tv or something. Besides, when you’re asleep, you don’t make me stop so you can pee,” I say with a smile and a light slap on his leg. He lets out a little chuckle. ”Thad?” he says with a smile and his eyes closed. ”I actually do have to pee.” Of fucking course he does! Some Place Else Entirely || In The United States I still feel a lot of guilt for abandoning my life and pretending to be someone else for so long. There is a responsibility I feel toward those that I love and care about. That didn’t simply disappear because I was someone else for a little bit. With Garrett, I guess you could call him my former boyfriend, I still watched out for him. Even if not face to face, I would watch him go about his days… from a distance of course. Today, it hurts me immeasurably to know that I hurt him so badly. Since returning to my real life, I have tried to contact him but to no avail. He’s not interested in talking to me and I get it. It hurts. But I deserve it and I don’t blame him for it in the least. This isn’t about Garrett Wentworth though. This is about someone else I care deeply for. A couple years ago, when I was running up and down the road with Dolly Waters, we made friends with another. Close in age. Charismatic. Charming and good looking. Backstage and behind the scenes of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, the three of us grew quite close. It was never a lustful thing, just three kids growing up in the business that just happened to hit it off. Yet when the third needed a friend the most, Dolly was off doing whatever the hell Dolly does and I was off in New York pretending to be Jaime Henry. Like Garrett, I checked in on him too. Not as often as I’d have liked and I never showed up in person. But I did check in with his team of medical professionals. The doors to the main entrance of the medical facility swing open and I enter the main corridor. These facilities always smell of old urine and anti-bacterial cleaners. Not the most pleasant of scents to be sure. Once I reach the correct floor via the elevator I turn left and head for the nurses station. ”Excuse me,” I say to a female nurse feverishly typing away at a computer behind the desk. ”Can I help you, sir?” I notice the name tag on her scrubs. Heather Lawrence. I’ve talked to her on the phone numerous times, inquiring about his condition. ”Heather, I’m Thaddeus Duke. We’ve spoken on...” ”Oh my gosh! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person and put a face to the voice!” she interrupts. ”I know he’d love to see you. He doesn’t get visitors.” Fucking great. One more fucking thing to feel guilty about. ”Yeah same, so… how is he?” ”Well… his spirits are mostly good,” she begins. ”He’s plateaued a bit recently in his recovery with nothing new to report since we last spoke a few weeks ago. Doctor Shaw thinks that he may have been wrong thinking he’d make a full recovery. “He hasn’t told him yet.” Clearly, I can’t allow that to happen. Also clearly, it might be time to find him some place else with new doctors. I’m not condemning Shaw or any of his other doctors, but sometimes cases need fresh eyes and fresh ideas. He’s my friend. I have to do whatever I can to help him, if he’s willing to let me. ”Is he in his room?” ”Yes he is, he just finished his lunch.” I start down the hall before doubling back. ”Ummm. What’s his room number?” ”502. End of the hall, last door on the left.” ”Thanks.” I start down the hallway again, walking quickly, nervously excited to see my old friend. Entering the room, the first thing I see is Rick & Morty on the tv screen. I look to my left to see him sitting up in bed. Our eyes meet almost simultaneously. ”Thad,” he says with a slightly crooked smile. ”Corey.” It’s getting a bit drab, don’t you think? Robbie doesn’t respect me or my ability and that’s fine. I don’t need his approval in order to validate myself as a competitor in the XWF. I don’t need titles or sooper sacred medallions with the letters MVP to validate my status as a star in this industry. I just don’t. I have never lacked for self-confidence and that isn’t about to start because some dude I don’t even care about doesn’t care about me back. What’s getting boring to me is his constant complaining about the money I have and my father. Robbie is still mad that three or four years ago my dad didn’t think highly enough of Bourbon to get in the ring with him before retiring. Robbie clearly takes that personally, but I have nothing to do with that. You want to face Sebastian Duke so bad Robbie, fucking call him. Go see him at his office. You pointed out he’s not that far from you. There’s ways to get to him and none of those are through me. By the way, the biggest bust in XWF history, his words and not mine, just happened to win every title in fucking existence and was just inducted to the Hall of Legends. Something you haven’t done. I mean, you could make the argument that you’re still active but so is Chris Page and he’s in. So just maybe, Sebastian Duke was a bit better than you give him credit for. Or is that all hyperbole too? That’s your game isn’t it? You spew whatever comes out the hole in your face hoping nobody catches on that’s its all meaningless. None of it means a damn thing and you call it metaphorical when someone does catch on to your little game. It’s a convenient excuse isn’t it? ‘Oh you took that literally? You stupidhead it was a metaphor!’ It’s not a metaphor. It’s useless fucking nothingness intended to make you sound smarter than you really are and people buy it. They eat it up like last nights leftovers after an all night bender. I’m not buying it. I’m not eating it up. I’m calling it what it is and that’s just complete bullshit. Robbie has an issue with me being a big bright star because I have a last name made famous by someone else. It’s true. Someone came before me, became famous, and now it lives on through me. What he doesn’t understand is my father was hated by the fans of the XWF yet they love the shit out of me. He claims I was handed everything I got when the reality of the situation is that I worked my ass off for everything I’ve had in this business. My name got me in the door and that’s it. The five titles I’ve held in my 30 match career or whatever it is were earned. None of them were gifted to me by management or my father so you can take all that useless shit and fucking eat it. Fans weren’t filling up stadiums to see Sebastian Duke’s kid. They came to see Thaddeus Duke because they know that I’ll do anything to send them home happy. Whether I win or I lose on any given night doesn’t matter. They come to watch me put on a fucking show like no one else, because I can and I do. They know when my name is on the marquee that I’m going to tear the house down and put my body on the line in order to do it. That’s what made me famous, Robbie. My hard work. My dedication to my craft. My tireless work to paint a fucking masterpiece on the XWF canvas each and every time I step through the curtain. Sometimes I fail. I have never shied away from that and I failed last Warfare. The thing you need to know about me, Robbie, is no two matches of mine are alike. So you may beat around the bush a little and channel Roddy Piper and say that you change the question, or in your case, the Nintendo cartridge, but here’s the thing man… that’s what any competitor worth a shit does. It’s not ground breaking. It’s not earth shattering. It’s nothing new. It’s just more soundbites. While a fight in the streets of Paris isn’t exactly my idea of being Rembrandt and painting on the XWF canvas and it certainly doesn’t favor my wrestling style, doesn’t mean I can’t be Picasso and change things up and be a little abstract. I’m not afraid to fight man to man. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not about to start now. Robbie thinks he made a fool of me on Warfare. He didn’t. He won a match that nearly went my way. More soundbites and the ever-famous empty Robbie Bourbon platitudes. Maybe you should run for President.