The Eternal Optimist

[Abigail]

Life moved fast, and life in the professional wrestling business moved even faster. It was a truth of her existence that Abigail seldom stopped to acknowledge, but every now and then something monumental happened that would rock the foundation of everything she thought she knew about a particular person or situation.

Before the very end of Rising Suns last week, Abigail thought very little of Dean Harper. Before last week, Dean Harper was a reputation far more than he was a man in her eyes. He was her personal Devil’s most loyal right hand man, and a man she imagined mourned Rowan MacDonnough’s current vegetative state even more than her most devoted lover, Brooklyn Madrox. Before last Sunday night, Abigail was utterly convinced that there was absolutely no way that the man would ever betray the maternal entity he believed he owed so much of his adult life to.

Whilst it was still true that she’d never choose to know him on any sort of deeply personal level because she had long ago established boundaries against fundamentally toxic people in her life, Abigail Spencer could at least appreciate the fact that everybody had their breaking point in life, and Dean Harper had evidently reached his several months ago.

Abigail knew firsthand the kinds of unfathomable decisions a person could be forced to make when they were in that deep dark hole in their lives and saw no healthy way out. She knew exactly the kinds of personal sacrifices and unforgivable consequences she’d been forced to live with when she had reached that point in her life as recently as six years ago. She too had been willing to turn on everything and everybody who was her family in a last ditch desperate effort to finally escape the shadow which had dogged most of her adult life without swallowing a bottle of pills or taking a bullet to her brain.

It was only with the benefit of hindsight that Abigail now realised that convincing the world that she was somebody else entirely really was the healthiest option in a slew of unhealthy options. She had been too cowardly to orchestrate her own end, so when Spike Kane offered her a chance to cleanse herself and wipe away all the blood from her eternally tainted soul, she needed little encouragement to throw herself heart first into an opportunity to start her life over. But as with all her best laid plans in life, it never worked out quite as she had hoped.

Eternity had made herself an inevitable spoke in Abigail’s wheel and prevented her from going any further than five years down the road of no return, and now through her love, patience and understanding, Abigail was learning to move on from all the sorrow that still haunted her all these years later. It was a process that was as long as it was slow, but Eternity promised her that there was always a light at the end of even the darkest tunnel, they just had to keep going to find it.

Eventually, they would find it together, Eternity believed that with every fibre of her being and had asked her to simply trust the process and take a spectacular leap of faith into the unknown with her. Little did she know at the time she was throwing herself head first into the truest and purest love she’d ever known. Now, Abigail would follow Eternity anywhere, to the end of time if she asked.

Abigail knew Dean to be a slave to a great many things, but before now she had never considered the possibility that one of those things just might be love too. Dean’s seemingly futile efforts to save his marriage were the talk of many a locker-room backstage. Whilst Abigail did her best not to indulge in idle gossip and baseless speculation, she was starting to wonder if finally putting Rowan MacDonnough down had been yet another sacrifice he’d made in trying to prove himself still worthy of Warren Harper’s love and affection.

Two days ago, at her little brother Ricky’s wedding reception, Abigail had thrown her theory at the one person who knew Warren best, Shea O’Hara and she had laughed heartily at the notion that Dean could ever love Warren that damned much. According to Shea, theirs was not a marriage of true love but rather of tragic convenience, and Abigail had been forced to concede that she really didn’t know either Harper well enough to dispute anything Shea believed.

Maybe it was just because Abigail had more than enough reason to believe in true love that part of her wanted to believe that there was something good, something relatable and something understandable about Dean, but Shea had hugged Abigail and told her to accept, as she did, that there really were some souls who were beyond salvation, and that Abigail was wasting her time trying to find reasons to forgive a heartless bastard like Dean Harper for anything at all.

Even now, Abigail still had trouble with Shea’s damning assessment of Dean’s character, even as she walked hand in hand with her own beloved Eternity around the Buddhist Zenkoji temple, on a simple date that had been her beloved’s idea.

Abigail had been immediately enthralled by the beauty, peace and tranquility of the site. Though this was Abigail’s first visit, Eternity seemed to almost dance, twisting and twirling with excitement as she finally had someone to share this sacred experience with. Eternity’s familiarity once again made her Abigail’s perfect tour guide as they crossed from the main hall to the outer sanctuary.

“Binzuru,” Eternity whispered in quiet awe as she led Abigail by the hand to a bald cross-legged statue whose facial features had been obscured by time and the many desperate touches of the sick, the lame and the dying who ventured here and sought salvation from that which troubled them most.

“A touch and he shall save you, Angel,” Eternity smiled, and before Abigail had a chance to object or even explain why she didn’t need saving at the moment, Eternity guided Abby’s hand to Binzuru’s chest and held it there. “Please forgive her so she can forgive herself and begin to heal her heart.” Eternity closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting go of Abigail’s hand again.

Abigail slowly lifted her hand from the statue’s heart and wanted to explain that she didn’t need healing, but swallowed down her reflexive objection because she knew the truth was that she’d never be truly healed from the kinds of deep wounds she carried, not for lack of trying. It was just an unfortunate fact of her life that a small part of her heart would always bleed.

It was one of the few things Abigail Spencer understood herself to have in common with the truly damned souls like Spike Kane and Dean Harper, unfortunately.

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“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we did not learn a lot at least we learned a little, and if we did not learn a little, at least we did not get sick, and if we got sick, at least we did not die; so let us all be thankful.” - Gautam Buddha.

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Alone, in a beautiful white off the shoulder dress and black boots, Abigail, in black eye makeup and glossy lipstick stood immediately to the right of the Yama statue on the west side of the inner sanctuary. Eternity had explained that he was the Lord of Death, and the most famous of the Ten Kings who judged the dead over a period of 49 days after their passing, and in listening to her partner’s enthusiasm over a clearly special interest, Abigail found a profound sense of peace that she would now always associate with this particular statue. And so it seemed an appropriate backdrop against which she could work through her personal anxiety of having her Heiress to the Throne journey ended prematurely this week.

As Abigail began to address her opponent for the week, there were Japanese subtitles in the lower third of the screen. Abigail wished to be absolutely clear, and this was her best courtesy showing she respected her opponent, come what may.

Maybe it’s the traditionalist in me, but for me now is when the Heiress To The Throne begins properly. The tag team group stage was a novel table setter I suppose but frankly if I can’t depend on anyone I consider family, then I’d much rather live an’ die on the virtues of my own merit. This week in the first round of the knockout stages, there ain’t nobody else ta blame for our setbacks but ourselves, just how I prefer it.

Rini Ishikawa, it seems ya have me at somethin’ of a significant disadvantage this week. See, I ain’t ever been one ta discount the importance of the home field advantage. We are set ta wrestle in your backyard. You’ve wrestled around Japan far more frequently than I have, an’ whilst I have no doubt that your association with your best friend Charlie has cost ya more than a few fans over the years, I’m still willin’ ta bet they’ll outnumber mine when we lock up this Tuesday.

I’ll admit on the surface we appear much more similar than we are different, Rini and that is why I hope ya can find it in your big soft heart ta respect me a great deal more than Charlie or her boyfriend evidently do. We are an’ will always be fiercely loyal ta the outcasts in our lives. Those precious few we love without rhyme or reason, an’ those we categorically refuse ta give up on no matter what anybody says or how adversely it may impact not only our careers but our lives.

I may confuse Charlie, but I think you’ll understand me perfectly Rini when I say I see ya as less of an opponent this week but more a kindred spirit. I admire your dedication ta those ya love an’ the strength of your convictions. Ya stick ta your beliefs an’ in so far as I can tell anyway, won’t be moved or compromised on them.

Such rigid principles an’ morality is somethin’ I honestly envy, Rini.

I only wish I had found the kinda heart an’ soul within myself that ya have sooner. When the world wanted ya ta turn your back on everythin’ you’d ever known, ya found the strength ta say no an’ instead stay true ta not only who ya are, but who you’ve always been. Honestly, you’re the kinda person I not only respect but can easily see maself bein’ friends with outside the ring. But that don’t mean I’m anticipatin’ my very own friendship package like you’ve been sendin’ Mai Everstone.

Though if ya are so inclined I’ll never say no ta home baked cookies either.

I ain’t holdin’ my breath that Charlie will let ya see someone like me as a valuable ally though, especially not after how y’all were burned by Shea at Immortals an’ though we ain’t close as her an’ Viv I do consider Shea a friend still. Ya have every reason ta consider me yet another wolf in sheep’s clothin’ Rini, I can’t even say I blame ya.

But if you’re intent on findin’ reasons ta dislike me personally just ‘cause your bestie does, then all I ask is that ya wait until after Sacrifice when I’ll give ya an actual reason ta take up arms against me when I end your Heiress ta the Throne journey personally.

Whatever else ya may think of me, it ain’t personal, I promise.

But hey I know you’re a natural optimist, Rini. Ya must be, believin’ ya can save Mai from herself in The Murder, an’ so after I beat ya, please do what I know ya do best. Look on the bright side an’ realise there’s always next year for ya, God willin’.