by Tony Correia
Atom Bomb pulls me aside after the show. He looks around to make sure no one else can hear and says, “Was that your boyfriend you winked at?”
Crap. I didn’t think anyone saw that.
“I’m not judging,” Atom says. “But I’m talking as one gay guy to another. If you want to make it in this business, don’t let the marks know. It will kill your career. I’ve seen it happen a million times.”
“You’re gay! Does Romeo know?”
“My husband and I had dinner with Romeo and his wife last night.”
Atom walks out of the dressing room without another word. I follow Atom into the gym. I’m stopped by a short guy in his late teens wearing a C.M. Punk shirt.
“Great match!” he says. “How long have you been training?”
“Almost four months. I’m making my debut next month.”
“You’re a natural in the ring. I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he says, and he leaves the gym.
“What did Bobby Bentley say to you?” Arshdeep asks.
“Who’s Bobby Bentley?”
“The guy in the C.M. Punk shirt.”
“He liked my match.”
“Dude! Bobby Bentley is the top wrestling blogger in the Pacific Northwest! You get his seal of approval and you’re on your way.”
“Now I don’t feel so bad about my lousy entrance,” I say.
“You don’t get off that easy. That was awful,” Dad says.
“Did Jorge tell you his good news?” Romeo says, joining our conversation. “I’m putting him in the next show!”
Dad and Thom’s faces light up.
Arshdeep looks confused. “But he’s been in only two student shows,” he says.
“Jorge has got the moves down. And he’s getting heat from the crowd,” says Romeo. “You saw Shirley Schlepp today. She peed her sweatpants during that match. Trust me. I had to Windex her chair.”
Arshdeep still looks stunned.
“Don’t worry,” Romeo tells him. “You’ll make your debut as soon as your doctor gives you the thumbs up.”
“Sorry, Jorge. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” Arshdeep says.
“It’s okay. I feel bad about taking your spot.”
“No one is taking anyone’s spot,” Romeo says. “It’s the way things are. Trust me, once Arshdeep is one hundred per cent, I’m planning a huge feud between the two of you.”
Thom walks Dad and me back to the minivan.
Thom leans in to give me a peck on the cheek but I back away.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“We better not do that here. I’ll call you to explain.”
Thom looks hurt and confused.
Will it always have to be like this? I start to worry that one day I’m going to have to choose between what I love doing and the guy I love being with.
09
Meet the Parents
Thom and I make a deal when I tell him the marks can’t find out I’m gay. He will avoid displays of affection at wrestling events. I will come have dinner with his parents.
Thom lives in Rosemary Heights, the richest part of Surrey. My neighbourhood, Strathcona, has been okay for about ten years. Before that it was mostly addicts and sex trade workers.
The street looks deserted when I pull up in front of his house. There are no cars parked along the curb. There are hardly any signs that people actually live here. Every other lawn has a For Sale sign on it. It’s kind of eerie.
Thom’s mom answers the door. She is a tall, beautiful black woman. Her smile reminds me of Mrs. Johnson, the Grade Two teacher who helped me with my stutter.
“You must be Jorge,” she says.
“I’m here to find out if you’ve found Jesus.”
Thom’s mom looks horrified.
“Just kidding,” I say.
“I’m Irma. Thomas didn’t tell us you were a comedian.” She does not sound amused.
“These are for you.” I hand her the flowers I brought from the shop.
“How lovely,” she says. “Come in.”
The house is amazing. I try not to gawk. The art on the wall is original and the furniture looks handmade. The air is filled with the scent of herbs and spices. I have the urge to put on slippers and smoke a pipe.
A large, muscular black man comes down the stairs. I step back, afraid he’s going to bowl me over.
“I’m John. You must be Jorge,” he says.
We shake hands. It feels like my arm is going to come out of the socket.
“Thanks for having me,” I say.
Thom is not far behind his father. He gives me a peck on the cheek and puts his arm through mine. “I’m glad you made it, Jorge.”
“My mom sent these over,” I say, handing him a white pastry box. “They’re Portuguese custard tarts.”
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Irma says, taking the box. “Why don’t you three get comfortable in the living room.”
Thom and I sit next to each other on a leather loveseat. John sits across from us on the couch.
“Thom tells us you’re training to be a pro wrestler,” John says.
“Yeah. I make my debut in a couple of weeks.”
“Interesting hobby,” he remarks.
“It’s more than a hobby. I’m hoping to make a career out of it.”
“Seriously?”
“Dad!” Thom cuts in.
“You must admit,” John says, “it doesn’t sound like a promising career choice. I thought UFC was all the rage now.”
“I get that a lot,” I say.
“Pro wrestling and UFC are two different things, Dad,” Thom says. “One is a form of storytelling. The other is two people beating each other to a pulp.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Thomas. Pro wrestling reinforces white men’s stereotypes,” John says.
This is going to hell in a handbasket.
Irma comes into the living room. “What did I miss?” She takes a seat next to John.
“Thomas is trying to convince me that pro wrestling is art,” John says.
“Now that’s funny,” Irma says. “It sounds dangerous. What will you do if you get injured and can’t wrestle anymore, Jorge?”
“My parents own a store in the city. I’ll work there until they die and live off the inheritance.”
Thom, Irma and John’s faces all drop.
“That was a joke,” I say. “I love my parents. I honestly don’t think like that . . .”
“Well, I hope you’re better at wrestling than telling jokes,” Irma says. “Shall we eat?”
* * *
I’m afraid to speak during the meal. Thom’s parents are keen to find out what kind of books and movies I like. Nothing I say impresses them.
Halfway through the meal, Irma says, “I saw Lionel today at Starbucks.”
“What did he have to say?” Thom asks.
“He wanted to know how your dad and I are doing. Jorge, did you know that Lionel volunteers at the David Suzuki Foundation?”
“No, I didn’t,” I say.
“Now there’s a boy with a future,” John says.
“Thom, I wish you would bring him around again,” Irma says. “He’s so smart and interesting.”
I feel stupid sitting there taking this abuse. At dessert, they don’t even bring out the custard tarts my mom made for them. It’s like they can’t wait to get rid of me.
I’m glad when dinner is over and I can finally go home. Thom’s parents tell me it was a pleasure to meet me. I don’t believe them for a second. Thom follows me to the van.
“Can we go for a drive?” he asks.
I unlock the door without saying a word. I don’t know where to go or what Thom expects me to say. I haven’t felt this low since I was expelled.
“I’m sor
ry I didn’t warn you. My parents are snobs,” Thom says. “But you wouldn’t have come over if I had told you.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Jorge, if you’re going to be a part of my life you have to know who my parents are. You don’t have to like each other. Just like I don’t have to like that we can’t show affection around your wrestling buddies.”
I grip the steering wheel, trying to keep my emotions in check. He has a point, as much as I hate to admit it.
“Are you dating me to piss off your parents?” I ask him.
“What makes you think that?”
“You and I have nothing in common. I am blue collar, Thom. And I will be, for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t know how the rest of your life is going to turn out,” Thom says. “I need to be with someone who puts his neck on the line for what he wants. And that’s you.”
I pull the van over to the curb. I take his hand in both of mine and kiss it.
“Sorry I doubted you,” I tell him. “I’m not good at relationships.”
“Who is?”
I kiss Thom on the lips. The kiss becomes more passionate. I try to embrace him. But the van’s shift control is in the way.
“I want you so badly,” Thom says.
“You have me.”
“No. I mean I want you.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t you want me too?”
“I do. But I don’t want my first time to be in the back of my parents’ van.”
“Are your parents home?”
“They’re always home.”
“Mine too. This is really frustrating,” Thom says. “Are you sure about the back of the van?”
“I would never be able to look at my parents with a straight face again,” I say.
Thom starts laughing. It takes me a second but I get the joke. “Straight face.”
Thom kisses me again. Every cell in my body lights up.
“Screw it,” I say, putting the van into drive. I drive us back to my house as fast as I can without breaking the law.
Mom and Dad are on the couch watching TV when we come up the stairs behind the store.
“Hey there,” I say, to their backs. “Is it okay if Thom spends the night?”
My dad snores. Mom doesn’t move. They’re both asleep.
Thom and I go back to my room. We undress to our underwear and crawl between the covers. Try as I might, I can’t stop shaking. Thom is gentle and patient. When we are done, I start to cry.
“Are you okay?” Thom whispers.
“Yes. I’ve just never felt this close to another person before. I’m afraid of screwing this up.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, “so am I.”
10
Roar
Thom and I are walking around Metrotown Centre shopping mall with Arshdeep and his girlfriend, Pria. Thom and Pria are hitting it off like a house on fire.
“It’s refreshing to hang out with someone who knows what I go through,” Pria says to Thom. We are waiting in line at Dairy Queen. “All I ever hear is wrestling this and wrestling that.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you want me to buy you an over-priced blouse at J. Crew,” Arshdeep says.
“That blouse was on sale!” says Pria. “And it was a birthday present.”
“An early birthday present. Six months early!” Arshdeep says. This is the happiest I’ve seen him since Thunder broke his arm.
“Your boyfriend buys you things?” Thom says.
“Damn right!” Pria says.
“I need a richer boyfriend.”
“I’ll pay for the ice cream. Happy?” I say to them.
“Someone is touchy,” Thom says.
“We’ve been all over the mall looking for ideas for my gimmick,” I tell them. “And we’re no closer than when we started. The show is in a week!”
“You need to relax, bro. They’re having you on,” Arshdeep says. “Chill out with a dipped ice cream cone.”
“I can’t. I’m trying to cut calories before the show.”
“You’re worse than a girl,” Pria says.
It feels good to be with the three of them. The School of Hard Knocks is the first family I’ve ever had outside of my own home. Watching Arshdeep, Pria and Thom together warms my heart to the point I almost want to cry. I still can’t believe how lucky I am.
The four of us are seated at a plastic table in the food court. Pria and Thom are comparing notes on how to give a blow job. They are using their ice cream cones to demonstrate. Arshdeep is enthralled with Thom’s ability to put his entire cone in his mouth.
“That’s incredible,” Arshdeep says.
“One of the advantages of being attracted to the same sex is knowing all the soft spots,” Thom says.
“Don’t get any ideas, Arshdeep,” Pria says.
“Guys, come on. There’s kids around,” I say.
“Fine, we’ll stop having fun and focus all our attention on you,” Pria says.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You really are overthinking this,” Arshdeep says. “Don’t try to come up with a specific idea. Think of something broad to start and then work your way down.”
“Arshdeep has a point,” Thom says. “You’re trying to come up with a stereotype that everyone will recognize on sight, right?”
“Exactly,” Arshdeep says.
“How about a real estate agent?” Thom suggests.
“I don’t like wearing ties,” I tell him.
“How about a right-wing politician?” Pria suggests.
“Too much talking,” I say. “I want to keep that to a minimum.”
“A blogger?” Arshdeep says.
“Okay, that’s the worst one so far. And you call yourself a wrestler,” I say.
“How about a hipster!” Thom says.
I think about it. “I like it,” I say.
“It’s perfect,” Arshdeep says. “It works as both a Face and a Heel.”
“You could enter the ring taking selfies and texting,” Pria says. “And wear a plaid shirt and grow a crazy moustache.”
“Too bad you don’t have time to grow a man bun,” Arshdeep says.
“I draw the line at a man bun,” Thom says.
“What do I wear in the ring?” I ask.
“Speedos,” Thom says.
“No way! I can’t stand in front of a crowd in nothing but a Speedo and kick pads!”
“But you have an amazing body,” Thom says. “Take off your shirt and show Pria your torso.”
“Ooh, a floor show! I should have brought some bills for a tip,” Pria says.
“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” Thom chants. Soon Pria is chanting along with him.
“You’re embarrassing me,” I say.
“I’m with Jorge on this one,” Arshdeep says. “It’s hard enough being judged on your wrestling. But to have the marks judge your body? It’s tough.”
“Poor babies. Try being a woman, like anywhere on earth,” Pria says.
“Jorge, do you want to make an impact? Or do you want to blend in?” Thom says.
Sticking out is what I’m worried about. Thom has a point though. I wouldn’t be the first wrestler to wear just a pair of trunks in the ring. But most of those guys are on steroids.
“Now I’m really regretting eating this ice cream cone,” I say.
“We’ve done it! High five!” Pria says. She raises her palm for Thom to slap.
“I think it’s time for Jorge to model some Speedos for us,” Thom says.
“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Pria says.
* * *
We drive out to Burnaby Mountain Park after the mall. The weather is getting warmer. With luck we’ll hav
e an early summer.
Pria leads us higher and higher up the mountain.
“Hurry up, you pussies. I don’t have all day,” she says from ten feet ahead of us.
I’m nearly out of breath when we get to the top. But the view is worth it. Thom puts his arm around my shoulder. Arshdeep puts his good arm around Pria. We all take in the view.
“Okay, buddy,” Arshdeep says, breaking the silence. “It’s time you learn how to roar.”
“Roar?” I say.
“You’re too timid on the microphone. You need to get used to the sound of your own voice.”
“Do we have to do this?”
“I think you know the answer to that question already.”
“Thank God,” Thom says. “What you did at the last student show was an absolute gong show.”
“I could really use your support right now,” I tell Thom.
Pria finds a dry spot of grass to take it all in and Thom joins her.
“Okay, now I just want you to roar like a lion,” Arshdeep instructs me.
I do as I’m told but it’s pretty lame.
“Louder. Like you mean it!”
I roar a little louder, but I feel stupid. What if someone sees us? What will they think?
Then Arshdeep grabs me by the balls and squeezes hard. “I said roar. Do it so this entire valley can hear you,” he says.
I let out the biggest sound I’ve ever made in my life. I take a deep breath and do it again.
“Say, ‘I’m going to tear you from limb to limb, you stupid piece of meat!’”
“I’m going to tear you from limb to limb, you stupid piece of meat!” I repeat at the top of my lungs.
“Now, ‘This is my house and you have no business being here!’”
“This is my house and you have no business being here!” I follow suit.
“Now say the first thing that comes to your mind!”
“They won’t be able to use you for artisanal toast when I’m done with you!”
“You did it!” Arshdeep says.
“I did it!” I agree.
“I’m kind of turned on,” Thom says.
“Me too,” Pria chimes in.
I whip off my jacket and shirt. I roar at the top of my lungs. It feels good.
A hiker coming up the trail says to me, “Keep it down over there!”