Crossing Over (Part 1 of 4)

RECEPTIONIST: Mr. Poblano? The doctor will see you now.

Serrano closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, unsure if he was ready for what was about to transpire. In his mind’s eye, he saw Percy, Larry, Noah, and the rest of his friends in the KaVengers, hoping that his positive thoughts of them would give him the strength to go through with the appointment. Then, one by one, those mental visions of his friends began to turn sour, as if they were looking down on him in disgust. He was letting them down, and it would only be a matter of time until he would be friendless once again.

He physically gave his head a hard shake as his eyes snapped back open. The frowning faces of his friends lingered in his imagination, but he did his best to push them out of his mind as he rose to his feet. Giving a meek smile to the receptionist to acknowledge that he’d heard her, Serrano made his way toward the door she was pointing at with the ink pen in her hand.

The doctor’s office wasn’t nearly as clinical as he expected, instead finding it to have a comforting atmosphere. The potted plants, framed motivational posters on the walls, and the shelves filled with psychology books gave the office more of a homey aesthetic than one might expect for the office of a medical professional. Even the doctor, who stood up behind her desk upon his entrance, was not what he had expected. She was attractive to begin with, and the smile she greeted him with was warm and pleasant.

Normally, this would be the point when he’d make a crude comment about her appearance or gender, but he fought off that urge to the best of his ability as he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his GoPro.

THERAPIST: Good morning, Mr. Poblano. I’m Dr….oh…are you planning on recording our session?

SERRANO: Uh…yeah. I have this thing about recording myself at random times and then posting it to the internet. It’s a wrestling thing…

There was a slight expression of confusion on the therapist’s face, but she quickly adapted to her new patient’s eccentricities.

THERAPIST: That’s…interesting. I’m somewhat familiar with professional wrestling, so in a way I can actually understand that. In fact, it might be a good idea to record our session and play it back later so you can think about what we’ve discussed.

Somewhat surprised by her acceptance, Serrano smiled more naturally as he placed the camera on the corner of her desk so that he would be in frame. Now being recorded, The Sultan of Spice turned his attention toward the extremely comfortable looking leather couch against the far wall. Noticing where his focus had gone, the therapist invited Serrano to get comfortable from off-screen.

THERAPIST: For a first meeting, we usually sit and talk casually at my desk as a way to get to know each other, but if you’d be more comfortable on the couch…

She didn’t have to say another word. In a matter of seconds, Serrano was laying on the couch face-up, his legs crossed and his hands resting behind his head.

THERAPIST: Okay then…why don’t we get started by you telling me more about yourself. The more you’re willing to share, the more I’ll be able to help.

SERRANO: Okie dokie, Doc. Where should I start?

THERAPIST: Start with whatever makes you comfortable. Your childhood perhaps? Your parents?

Serrano let out another heavy sigh as he immediately began to think about his mother and father.

SERRANO: Well, my mom and dad were both professional wrestlers when they were younger. My momma was known as The Carolina Reaper and my daddy was Shishito Habanero Poblano. Yes, before you ask, I’m a quarter Asian flavor, a quarter Hispanic spice, and half Southern barbeque.

THERAPIST: I…see. Tell me more about your cross-cultural experiences in the home.

There is a slight shrug of his shoulders as The Heater responds.

SERRANO: There’s not much to tell, really. Mom and dad were always on the road for work. They were never home at the same time, and on the rare occasions that they were, mom always stayed with Uncle Bob. Dad would drink a lot of sake and tequila those nights.

The therapist jots down some things on a notepad as Serrano talks.

THERAPIST: And how did that make you feel? Your parents not being around, not being affectionate towards each other? How did you feel about your father’s drinking?

SERRANO: Oh, those things weren’t a big deal. If anything, they gave me more of an opportunity to pursue my true passion…cooking.

THERAPIST: The culinary arts can be a good release. I’m happy to hear you had that joy and passion in your life. How did your parents feel about your interest in cooking?

Serrano pulls a hand out from behind his head to remove the sunglasses from his face. While certainly not crying, it looks as if the memories of his mother and father are causing some redness around his eyelids. After rubbing his eyes, he leaves his sunglasses resting on his forehead.

SERRANO: Honestly, they thought it was a waste of time. They liked the fact that I would cook meals for myself, so they didn’t have to, but they were never interested in trying my food for themselves. I know they had always hoped I’d follow them into the wrestling business, but I was a clumsy and chubby kid. My idea of competition was more in the line of hot wing eating contests and bake-offs. Mom and dad never showed up to any of those. I think they were embarrassed that their son wasn’t a badass like them. Basically, they were disappointed in me.

The therapist jots down a few more notes as she nods her head.

THERAPIST: Did they ever tell you they were disappointed or was it something left unspoken?

SERRANO: Oh no, never unspoken. Mom and dad were always very open in their feelings about me. Mom liked to call me her ‘Favorite Mistake’ and dad’s nickname for me was ‘Spawn of the Succubus’, but they both had one nickname in common for me… “Crotch Botch”.

The revelation even gives the therapist pause.

THERAPIST: Oh…oh my. I’m so sorry you had to endure that, Serrano.

SERRANO: Meh, it’s okay. That was nothing compared to what Grandma Reaper called me. Heh…nana and her ‘Failed Abortion’ comments…

THERAPIST: Um…let’s move on a little bit. We can revisit these things in a later session. Tell me about why you decided to get into professional wrestling. Was it due to pressure from your family?

The question forces Serrano to think for a moment before speaking.

SERRANO: Yeah, I suppose it was. They were both retired from the ring and not speaking to each other at all anymore. I thought I could make them proud of me and also rekindle the love they must have had to make me in the first place. But even though I was getting into their business, I knew I had to do it my own way. I decided I could combine my love of spice with their love of wrestling to become the world’s first in-ring combat chef. So, I trained for a little bit, lied to Project: Honor by sending them a try-out video of John Blade matches and promos, and finally got signed during one of Indy Darling’s bouts of self-doubt. And now…well…here I am.

THERAPIST: I’m glad that you had the inner strength to combine what your parents wanted for you with your own passions. Have your parents been to an event to see you perform?

This time there is a longer pause from Serrano, until a single tear finally rolls down his chubby cheek.

SERRANO: Yeah, once. I had a match against Lance Williams. He had just turned heel and was being a major douche-nozzle, so I thought it might be my chance to get cheered. I had my mom and dad there in the front row and then…then…

THERAPIST: Yes? Go on.

SERRANO: Lance beat me like a jobber and then him and his buddy, Mason Kane, murdered my parents in cold blood.

This revelation has the therapist taken aback for a moment.

THERAPIST: Murdered? I…don’t have any of that in my notes. Your file says that they’re still living, and they’re even listed as your emergency contacts…

SERRANO: Nope. They’re totally dead.

THERAPIST: Serrano…in doing my research, I spoke with your mother on the phone this morning…

SERRANO: Nu-uh. Must have been a ghost cause she’s totally dead. Dad too. Gone forever. Extinct. Ceased to breathe. Chopped up into teeny tiny pieces. Expired. Croaked. Kicked the bucket.

THERAPIST: Okay then…we can move on…

SERRANO: Flushed away. Snuffed like candles in the wind. Taken from me before their time…

THERAPIST: Serrano!

The volume of his therapist’s voice finally snaps The Heater back to reality.

SERRANO: Yo! Go for Poblano!

THERAPIST: Let’s move on, please. Tell me what you did after your parents’...demise.

Serrano wipes the single tear from his cheek and shrugs.

SERRANO: I did what any well-adjusted son with a certain set of skills would do; I became a vigilante so that no adult man would ever be orphaned by evil pro wrestlers again.

THERAPIST: And how did that go?

SERRANO: Meh, not well. Only lasted a couple of weeks. To be honest, I got distracted from the whole vengeance thing when I was nominated as the best Female Warrior of the Season last fall.

As if she wasn’t confused enough, the therapist's expression becomes even more befuddled.

THERAPIST: …female?!

SERRANO: Yep! Funny thing was, I didn’t even know I identified that way until the nomination. Damn…what an honor that was. I still haven’t thanked Larry KaChow for the nomination as much as I should. I’m sure it was him that casted the vote.

THERAPIST: And Larry KaChow is one of the…KaVengers? One of men in your close circle of friends?

The thought of the stable he’s a part of brings a smile back to Serrano’s face.

SERRANO: Damn right! We call him Uncle Larry because he’s so wise and well-traveled. My best friend, Percy, came up with that name. Percy is just about the kindest and sweetest man a guy could ever meet! When I used to lay awake at night as a child and imagine what it would be like to have a friend, well, Percy checks all those boxes. At least most of them. He doesn’t have Gordon Ramsay’s accent, but he’s trying really hard to get it down.

THERAPIST: It’s very nice that you have a circle of friends you can rely on. Many of my patients are not that fortunate.

SERRANO: Yeah. They’re a real festival of funk, ya’ know? El Puma is so suave and sexy, Rapture has this edge like he could stab one of us at any given moment, Guy has the best wife jokes for a single dude, and Noah is…well…he’s Noah. I just wish…I wish I deserved their friendship. It’s only a matter of time until I let them all down, just like I let my mom and dad down…like I let the female wrestling fans down…like I let everyone down.

THERAPIST: Real friends accept each other for who they are, Serrano. What makes you think your friends will feel let down?

SERRANO: That’s just it, Doc. It's already started. Percy and I had a tag team match on Pay-Per-View last weekend, and I blew it. I mean, I really tried my best. I kicked out of things that would have kept me down for a ten count in the past. Those guys in the Phantom Troupe hit me with moves I can’t even pronounce, but I just kept thinking about how Percy was counting on me and somehow it gave me the strength to keep fighting. It just…it wasn’t enough. I’m a jobber, Doc. A loser. A big, fat disappointment in a pair of flip flops.

As she writes down some more notes, Serrano continues to pour out his heart.

SERRANO: That’s not even the worst part. The fans…they booed me. I was there as Percy’s tag team partner, and he’s one of the most loveable guys on the planet. Yet they still…booed me. It wasn’t even good heat, ya’ know? It was go-away heat. If those fans won’t accept me with a guy like Percy on my side, then they never will.

THERAPIST: Wrestling fans are a vocal and opinionated group. That must be very difficult to handle for a sensitive man like you.

SERRANO: …yeah…I guess…

THERAPIST: You seem to be striving for the kind of acceptance that your family never gave you. You’re a man with strong passions and it’s only natural for you to want love and adoration in return. There’s nothing wrong with wanting people to like you or even depend on you, but you also have to be open to accepting those things when they come your way. Can you think of a time when you did receive that kind of response from the fans or your peers?

The question forces Serrano to think long and hard until he finally remembers one fateful night…

SERRANO: The first time I gave someone a stink face…it was Brandon Hendrix…I tea bagged that dude so good…the fans erupted, and it felt like I was on top of the world.

THERAPIST: And how did you capitalize on that? What do you do to show the fans your appreciation of their support?

SERRANO: I…maybe made some off-color jokes. Started wiggling my ass before, during, and after matches. Pelvic thrusts and the whole shebang. I thought that’s what they wanted but…

THERAPIST: Yes?

SERRANO: I think it started to gross them out. I blamed them for not being able to handle the spice, but I didn’t take the time to wonder if the world was ready for that kind of spice in the first place.

THERAPIST: It could have been too much, too soon. You were so desperate to get another response like the first one that you overdid it, but that’s nothing to beat yourself up over. It can happen to all of us. Now, let’s talk more about what brought you into my office today…

Serrano’s eyes grow wide, and he lets out a big huff.

SERRANO: Oof…yeah! That Uber driver was RUDE, and his backseat smelled like vomit!

THERAPIST: No, not what physically brought you here. I’m talking about why you made this appointment…

SERRANO: Right on. Well, my friend Percy is in charge of Proving Ground next week, and he’s booked all of the matches. Not only that, but he booked our team in the main event against Julius Foulweather and Slade Castle for the Tag Team Titles…

THERAPIST: Wait…Slade Castle?

Serrano gives his therapist a curious glance.

SERRANO: Yeah. You know that nut-job?

THERAPIST: No…no it’s not important. Please continue.

Serrano shrugs and goes back into his story.

SERRANO: Right. So, we’re in this huge match, the biggest match either of us have ever been in, and we’ve never even won as a team. I know a lot of people will give Percy some heat for booking himself in the main event, but I know he didn’t do it for himself. He did it for us, for all of the KaVengers. He wants the world to appreciate us as much as he does. He’s willing to take all of that heat just so the rest of us get a little bit of recognition, but he has no idea how much pressure that’s putting on me. I mean, we couldn’t beat the Phantom Troupe, so how in the name of Anthony Bourdain are we supposed to beat the champs? I’m just afraid that once the match is over…after I lose again…Percy and the others will finally see that I’m not good enough to be their friend. Then I’ll be…I’ll be alone again…

This time there is nothing comical about the lone tear that forms in the corner of Serrano’s eye and then rolls down his face. There’s nothing funny about his heaving chest or his muffled sobs. Yes, he’s a bit on the heavy side and he’s not a very good wrestler. It’s true that he often makes rude gestures or comments. More often than not, he’s a caricature that’s easy to ridicule or write off. But in this moment, this one instance of vulnerability, he is more human than he’s ever been before.

The therapist sets her notepad and pen down on her desk and picks up a box of tissues. She makes her way around the desk to Serrano’s side, kneeling down beside him to offer him something to wipe his eyes with. She gently rests her hand on his shoulder as he continues to sob, doing her best to empathize with him in this time of need.

SERRANO: Doc…you really need to take your hand off me. I’m starting to get a chubby down there.

And just like that, the moment is ruined. With her own heavy sigh, the therapist leaves the box of tissues beside the couch and makes her way back to her desk chair.

THERAPIST: I appreciate your honesty, Serrano. Now it’s time for me to be honest with you. I think we need to schedule regular weekly meetings. You have a variety of issues that we can’t tackle in just a few sessions. I’m talking about issues with trust, self-loathing, gender identification, and to be perfectly candid, extreme delusions regarding your parents. This is going to require intensive practices and maybe even some experimental procedures. Now obviously I can’t help you when it comes to your battles in the ring against violent and disturbed individuals like Foulweather and Castle…

Just then, as if on cue, Dr. Sarah Green’s door flies open and a square-jawed man in a black leather jacket enters the office.

SLADE CASTLE: Doc, I know it’s not my scheduled day, but I really need some advice about my tag team partner…

Serrano shoots up to a seated position on the couch, locking eyes with one of the men he’ll go to war with in less than two weeks' time.

SERRANO: You!

Castle stands there for a moment, completely surprised to see Serrano Poblano on his court-appointed therapist’s couch.

SLADE CASTLE: What the fuck…?!

DR. SARAH GREEN: Slade, please don’t overreact…

SLADE CASTLE: You tryin’ to get dirt on me by visiting my damn therapist? Huh?! You fuckin’ fat sicko…

And just like that, Slade Castle charges into the room, intent on murdering Serrano Poblano with his bare fists before The Sultan of Spice can even get off his ass…