The Sins of the Mother

Red.

Everywhere.

The once grease crusted concrete has become a canvas of crimson. On one knee, Elise Ares looks down at a blood-stained spectacle that would make Dexter Morgan giddy. The world goes silent as she runs the back of her hand across her mouth and looks down at the scarlet streak that appears. A staffer throws up somewhere off scene as the Leading Lady can’t even blink. Words go in and out between heartbeats pounding her ear drums like an Orcish raid.

“Can someone cal-” THUMP-THUMP  “-a hospital.”

“No no nonono. No. I’m… fine.” She manages to project through the metallic taste consuming her pallet. She closes her eyes. THUMP-THUMP. She tries to reset.

“What do you mean you’re fi-” THUMP-THUMP “-blood… EVERYWHERE.”

Her heart races as daggers dig into her stomach. They burn as if they were just struck from the forge. The brain races to find justification. Normalcy. Bite the lip. Act the pain away. You do this all of the time. This is acting.

“Yeah, about that… this happens. Sometimes. Not ALL of the time” THUMP-THUMP “I mean not on camera obvs we need to burn that footage and it can NEVER see the light of day.”

The world starts to fade as sound sinks into the squealing sound of tinnitus. Liquid begins to rise up from the throat, hot and metallic. She tries her best to keep it all inside but instead her eyes shoot open and with an excruciating cough familiar to crimson splatters spray across the white linen bedsheets.With that visual the rest of reality fades into view. The tinnitus clears and inaudible mumblings from a different room become the new soundtrack. It was just another dream.

Looking around for a bottle of water to clear the taste of iron from her mouth, the dimly lit hotel room was unfamiliar, but the daggers that were still searing away at her intestines was not. Taking a moment to grit her teeth through the pain, Elise rolls over onto her back. Pressing her hand against her stomach, it’s hot… burning hot, and painful to the touch. She feels her heartbeat pound through her pancreas.

THUMP-THUMP

Staring up at the ceiling, she has no choice but to lose herself in her own thoughts. The pain is new, but the symptoms? Not entirely unfamiliar. As a matter of fact, the conclusion finally dawns on her, and a chill runs up her spine.

Ɛ> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

“My mother’s name was Hiroko Yamada. Any Japanese teenager in the late 1980s would immediately recognize the name. In 1987 she debuted. In 1988 she was everywhere. Magazines. Posters. Figures. Clothing. You name it and her face was on it. One of the fastest rising Japanese Idols they had ever seen. In  January 1989 she ended a 3 month tour of Japan. In April she was married. In July she graduated. Then in April 1990 I was born.

My room was full of my mother’s posters when I was a little girl and I wanted nothing more than to be just like her, and today… I am.”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The sound of 「恋はミラーボール」played through a pair of wrap around back Sony headphones. A dark skinned girl has her eyes closed, mouthing the lyrics as if she was performing on the biggest stage in the world.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Elise, you need to answer the door!” A muffled voice is drowned out by dancy vibes of Hiroko Yamada’s “Shining Love,” as it was known internationally. She knew she should answer the door… but it was time for the last chorus. The best part. 12-year old Elise Ares jumped out of her bed and grabbed her hair brush before miming the vocal run just as the door burst open and slammed against the wall.

“ELISE ARESEL GUERRERO YAMADA. You need to get this room together rrrright now!”

The full name meant business. Frustrated, Elise dropped the earphones around the back of her neck and tossed the Walkman onto the bed. Surrounded by half empty Capri Suns, empty Dunkaroo packs, and stuffed animals, her room looks like a fever dream to most Cuban families but her family had something most families did not. Money and connections.

“Can I do it later?” Elise bemoaned, frustrated by her mother interrupting her own chef-d'œuvre.

“Your father isss on his way home right now.” Her mother answered, clearly slurring her words. Elise paused for a moment to examine her mother’s face. Her eyes were glassy and she was perched up against the wall, holding her weight as if she were about to fall over. Still gorgeous after all these years, even with no makeup and a messy bun, Hiroko’s face had begun to droop on the left side. Elise often wondered if this is what would happen to her when she got older.

“Who cares? He’s going to yell at us no matter what we do.”

“He CANNOT see the house like this!. We need to get it fixed up.”

“If he wants it clean so bad, he can do it himself.”

Running her hand through her hair and taking out her messy bun, Hiroko stumbled forward before she sat down in the middle of her daughter’s room. Exhausted. Physically and emotionally.

“Why do you fight with me? Why do you make everything so difficult?”

“Because it isn’t fair!”

“Life isn’t fair.” Hiroko immediately fired back. Sobering words that came out of her otherwise garbled speech clear as a whistle. “Your father… he works very hard. He parties very hard. He expects the same thing from us as he expects from himself. Perfection. You need to pick your…”

A violent hiccup stopped her mid-sentence.

“...battles.” Elise rolled her eyes as her mother crawled over to the other side of the bedroom and spat into her trash can. Turning back around, a crimson streak stained the side of her mother’s cheek and the back of her hand.

“Mom, are you okay? I think you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.” Hiroko answered with a wince and a deep breath, “I’m fine… but I won’t be if you don’t get this place cleaned up. You won’t be either. You have an hour.”

Hiroko attempted to stand back up with a wobble before falling to knee, taking a moment, and then she pulled herself back up by the door knob and stumbled out the door. The soon to be Havana Harlot stood in her room in silence for a moment before slowly walking over to her trash can. Inside? Blood. And lots of it.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen blood of course. Elise had her fair share of accidents from being a very active little girl. She’d done the typical childhood injuries of falling off her bike. Falling out of a tree. Banging her head against something she just didn’t see. Breaking her wrist because she wouldn’t stop playing with the automatic windows. A black eye because she yelled at her dad. A 2am trip to the emergency room because her mother “fell” while she was drunk. That time her mom was thrown down a flight of stairs.

Her mother taught her that she needed to pick her battles and do the best you can with the hand you are dealt. Tonight, that meant she needed to clean. Quickly. Or else she might see blood again.

Ɛ> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

“I loved my mother but didn’t always understand her. I couldn’t understand how she fell in love with my father. I couldn’t understand how she always stayed so loyal and kept her mouth shut. As I begin to become the same ages that I knew my mother, the less I see myself in her… but others have said they see her more in my every day.”

“UGGHHHHHH, I HATE TRAVELING.”

A couple twists of a key and a long, obnoxious squeak open the scene as the lights flash on and reveal Elise Ares slogging through her shitty apartment door with a purse, a backpack, a huge rolling suitcase, and the PRIME 5*Star Championship all on her person simultaneously. Dropping her backpack to the floor with a heavy thunk, Ares kicks the rolling suitcase out of the threshold of the door and slams it shut behind her, wiggling the lock three times before it finally latches into place.

The PRIME 5*Star Championship lands on the table next to dozens of unopened envelopes and half-eaten snacks and water bottles, the purse is hung from the chair, and the suitcase follows Elise across the cheap tile kitchen until it gets caught on a pile of clothes sitting in front of the washer at which point she stops trying to drag it behind her. Stomping through the laundry covered floor as dramatically as possible, Elise finally makes it to a beaten down brown sofa where she crashes face first and drops her phone on the ground.

It’s lost forever.

“MAO.” The excited screams of a feline interrupt the first 5 seconds of silence Elise has had in nearly a week and is met with a less excited muffled groan from the couch. Suddenly, an overweight orange cat comes and rubs its face against her dangling arm.

“Did you miss mama?” Elise’s voice is swallowed by the couch cushions, “You love mama don’t you? So do I. I love me too.”

“MAO.”

The previously deceased arm of the current PRIME 5*Star Champion comes to life and begins to scratch the cat on top of the head, but the rest of her body remains one with the couch before suddenly the sound of “Tik Tok” by Ke$ha erupts from somewhere deep in the river of laundry across her apartment floor and is immediately met with a primal scream directly into the brown void of the sofa.

“I’m not answering that. It’s your turn to answer CATastrophe.”

“MAO.” The cat doesn’t speak English, but if he did, he would’ve said answer your own phone you lazy ass bitch.

“But I don’t waaaaaaaaaaaaaaannaaaaaa.” She whined before rolling off of her sofa and dramatically landing onto the laundry covered floor. Reaching her hands into the depths, she roots around until she finds a vibration just in time for the music to stop. Ripping the phone out from the abyss like she just saved a baby from drowning, Elise looked to see who she’d missed a call from. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

“Fuck em.” She said out loud before collapsing back into the laundry.

Queue “Tik Tok” by Ke$ha again.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Elise’s word became a wail before she answered her T-Mobile Sidekick with the energy of Ben Stein, “Hello.”

“Hey Elise? This is your aunt Yoko.” Her brain didn’t have enough energy to put thought into who that was or why they were calling so she just didn’t respond, “I’m calling about your mother.”

“I’ve told her a thousand times I can’t come back home, I’ll never be able to come back again.” She finally answered in frustration, “What does she want now?”

“She died just a couple of minutes ago.”

The world stopped. The next couple of seconds passed like an eternity as her brain tried to function.

“I’m sorry.” The voice spoke, breaking the awkward silence.

“What do you mean she died? She’s like 45.” Elise answered, “People don’t just die at 45.”

“She’s 44 and the doctors haven’t finalized a cause yet, but they told us they believe it’s liver failure due to years of excessive alcohol consumption. Did you know about this?”

“I… don’t know what to tell you.” Elise stuttered out. She looked around her apartment, covered in empty liquor bottles and partially drank sodas. “I mean she drank. I drink. We have to. Do you know what that man is like? He’s nuts! I wouldn’t say it’s excessive… we’re just very popular, social people.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a surprise that your father would like you to come home. He’s leaving his tour and coming home right away. He expects you to be there when he comes back.”

From across the apartment, Elise looks at the light flash off of the PRIME 5*Star Championship and the truth begins to sink in. If she comes home, all of this is over. She’s left the United States and she wouldn’t be able to come back. This was the land of opportunity… or so they say. The fact that she defected and made it here in the first place with no money and no support was a miracle. A once in a lifetime event.

“Tell him I’m not coming.” Elise responded before.

“But your mot-”

CLICK.

The Sidekick falls back into its rightful home beneath Mt. Low-Cut Jeans as Elise leans back against the shitty brown sofa from the laundry ridden floor.

“MAO.” CATastrophe chimed in.

“Yeah, I know I did the right thing.” Elise answered.

A few months ago she was finally able to quit her job at a restaurant that shall remain nameless with daisy duke orange shorts when she signed her first full-time contract with PRIME. The world was colorful and full of excitement when she bought this apartment. She had fantasies of turning it into her own secret lair full of the things she’d always wanted to have, not the least of which was a talking cat named after a pun. Now the world was gray. Black. Unforgiving.

Reaching up to the end table she grabbed a half full bottle of Jose Cuervo and took a nice long drag, the irony completely lost on her. It wasn’t because she didn’t learn from the mistakes of her mother, it was that the world was only worth living at the end of a bottle. It was the splash of color in a greyscale world. Inside the ring and inside the club were the two places where she felt truly alive. If she didn’t have Jose, she’d have to look into the mirror and see the face of a teenage girl with a fake ID used only to hide away from her own problems, personal traumas, and insecurities. When you don’t have the money for therapy you do the next best thing.

Your drink. Then you pretend. That’s how you survive.

Ɛ> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

“Now that I can afford therapy, I often get asked if I can see myself making the same mistakes my mother did and if I feel like I’m doing enough to not repeat them. I always tell them the same thing, and that’s the difference between my mother and I is very simple to understand. When you look into my eyes you’re looking at the face of a champion. The face of a leading lady. The main character of professional wrestling. My mother was weak… but I’m the best in the world.”

Another morning, another hotel room. After enough time they all begin to look the same. The same stark white sheets covered with a comforter and a duvet. The same digital alarm clock next to the bed. The same light fixtures screwed into the wall next to the headboard and a curtain you pull across your window with a stick. The difference between this hotel room and the others?

Big Blue. The FIST of DEFIANCE lay on the office table next to an empty bottle of champagne. With a smile on her face and a dull pain in her stomach she lifts the championship belt up off the table and whisks it away into the bathroom to get ready. It sits next to her on the sink as she does her makeup and she uses it as a mirror to check her lipstick to make sure it’s on just right. Her pearly white teeth sparkle in the reflection as she spits into the sink for the last time brushing her teeth.

Look mom, no blood.

Throwing the championship over her shoulder, she takes it with her back towards the bed where she grabs a cup of coffee and picks up her phone to review her notifications from the night before. Oh look, a missed call from The D:

“Hey uh, so like, what’s up. You partying tonight? Sick. Listen, we gotta talk. Lemme know when you’re level headed. Klein just, really bamboozled me…”

“Hell yeah we’re going to party again tonight.” Elise says with a smile before looking at the FIST of DEFIANCE in her arms, “And you’re coming with me. I’ve given up way too much to get you to not celebrate the occasion! You’re never leaving my sight, EVER again.”

Ares goes to take a drink of her coffee, but hesitates. Slowly she puts the coffee back down onto her nightstand and opens up the drawer. From inside of the drawer she pulls out the only other thing that never leaves her side, her gemstone covered “loaded” flask. She hums a little tune to herself as she unscrews the top, pours a little mystery liquid into the coffee, and finally takes a sip to start her day.

The right way.

I’m not changing shit.