I have a collection of stories which I have not posted for various reasons. I took another look at this one and thought it might be worth a go. It was inspired by my real-life experience as a nursing student on a psychiatric inpatient unit. As always, I appreciate your feedback.
My Little Sherry
Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
Dreamed of all the different ways
I had to make her glow
Why are you so far away?, she said
Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?
That I'm in love with you?
-The Cure
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me
And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
-Pink Floyd
It’s freezing tonight in Boston. That’s no surprise. Everyone knows Boston is a cold city in the winter. I’m warm inside, but I’d rather be out in the chilling cold. I’m at work running the floor cleaner. Then, I will empty trash on the 7th and 8th floor patient wards. I can’t wait to get out of here. As soon as my shift is over, I will race out of here without a second to spare. I will see Sherry.
“Hello, Conner,” the nurse smiles at me as I enter through the double doors to the patient ward, pushing my floor waxer. She’s very nice.
“Hi…Lauren,” I return. Now I realize I’m not sure if that’s her name.
“I’m Vickie,” she giggles. “Lauren is the tall blonde.”
“Oh no! I’m really, really sorry.”
“Hey, no worries, a lot of people work here. The Brigham is a big place.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“It’s good. Hey, any plans this weekend? Or are you gonna stay inside and stay warm?”
“Well. I’m going to see my girlfriend tonight after work. Her name is Sherry.”
“Really?” Vickie grins. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Conner. That’s great!...Where did you meet?”
“Um…we met online.”
“So,” Vickie asks, “are you going out to dinner? Seeing a movie?”
“No, we are going to an event.”
“An event?...an event…Ok, I see…Well. have a wonderful time.”
“Thank you, Vickie…and I’m sorry I forgot your name.”
“Don’t even think about it, Conner. Just have fun, okay.”
I know Vickie is wondering about the event, but she is too polite to ask. It wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her. She’s one of the few employees here who will talk to me. She’s right. Brigham and Women’s Hospital is huge and one of the best hospitals in the world. Some of the world’s best doctors and scientists work here. Most people at this place ignore me. Why shouldn’t they? I’m just a housekeeping guy.
I’m not always comfortable around people, but I think I’ve improved a lot. The medication I’m on now really helps…Ok, I may as well tell you. I have schizophrenia. A lot of people don’t know what that is. They think it means multiple personalities. It’s not. Or they automatically think I’m a violent lunatic. I’m not. In fact, people with schizophrenia are rarely violent.
Schizophrenia is an illness caused by chemical imbalances in the brain. For me, it started in high school. That’s when I began to change. I stopped studying. My grades dropped. I distanced myself from friends. I spent more time alone. I gave up sports and other hobbies. My parents didn’t understand it. I didn’t either. They took me to doctors. Some said I was depressed. They prescribed different medications that didn’t work. I managed to graduate from high school. I tried college. I did alright my first year. The stress got to me during my second year. That’s when I had my psychotic break.
You see, my symptoms in high school can be the warning signs to pending schizophrenia. When the disease finally blooms, you lose sense of reality. “Schizo” means “split”. It’s not a split personality like many people mistakenly think. It’s a split with reality.
At first, I started to hear voices in my head. It was like people were having conversations, talking to each other, but it was as if they were inside me. Sometimes they would talk about me, calling me names, saying I was stupid and a loser. I didn’t tell anyone. I stopped attending classes. I dropped out of college which upset my parents. They threatened to stop financially supporting me, forcing me to sink or swim on my own.
The voices grew worse. I started hearing communications between extraterrestrial beings. Then, I found out where they were coming from, or so I thought. From our neighborhood street, you could see a large green water tower rising to the sky about a quarter of a mile away. I believed the tower was actually a radio transmitter, being used by space aliens for communication. At first, they sounded like scientists interested in studying our planet. Gradually, the conversations became more threatening. They wanted to abduct humans for experimentation. Then finally, I heard it. The extraterrestrials were about to invade us. Earth was about to be destroyed in an hour.
I panicked. I was terrified. I had to do something, anything. I ran into the house and grabbed a hunting rifle. I ran down the street banging on the door of every neighbor’s house to warn them. I screamed, “they’re here, they’re here, we’ve got to fight them.” I fired the gun at the water tower.
The cops came for me. I’ll give them credit. They were very professional. They calmly talked to me and convinced me to give them the gun. I was taken to a psychiatric hospital where I was admitted. That was when I was formally diagnosed with schizophrenia.
It’s been a tough road. With medications and therapy, the voices in my head stopped. I’m doing alright with my current job. I’m still not the most sociable guy, but as I said, I think I’m better.
Now, I’ll tell you about Sherry. You see, I never had a girlfriend before. Honestly, before Sherry, I had never been on a date. That is because of my illness. Schizophrenia made it impossible for me to socialize in a normal way. I was withdrawn. I looked like an oddball to most people. There were times when I wanted to be in a relationship, but I knew it couldn’t happen. I had my share of cruel insults. In high school, a very pretty and popular girl approached me. She said I was attractive and asked me to go to the movies with her. I couldn’t believe it. For a few days, I was walking on clouds. So, we went to the movies. I called her the next day. She told me it was all a joke. She played truth or dare with friends and asking me for a date was her dare. I was crushed.
That’s past now. There is no cure for schizophrenia but this illness can be controlled. I feel as well as I’ve ever been. Occasionally, I might hear a voice, but I recognize it as an auditory hallucination and it goes away. I started to desire having a female companion again. My therapist thought I was ready. Then, I met Sherry online. She has an OnlyFans web page. I signed up. We chatted. We hit it off. Now we are a couple. She’s the most important thing in the world to me now. I think about her constantly.
How do I know Sherry? I purchased a video download of her catfighting another woman in a bikini. That’s another thing I should probably explain. You see, since a young age, I’ve had fantasies about women fighting and wrestling each other. Nothing really violent. Just erotic imagery. I assumed it was part of my illness. Those fantasies persisted, even when all the other symptoms subsided. My therapist thought it was a fetish that a lot of guys probably have and not really related to schizophrenia. He thought it was okay as long as it didn’t get in the way of real relationships.
I first saw Sherry at a live event by a production company, Battling Babes of Boston. She was new. I saw this tiny little blonde, only 5’2” and 105 lb, step onto the mat wearing this bright pink bikini. She had short curly hair and these intense green eyes on this adorable little face. I knew she was nervous. Her opponent was a little larger, a dark-skinned brunette who was making her second or third fight.
The fight was intense. The two ladies tore into each other, slapping, pulling hair, kicking, screaming. Little Sherry was outweighed, but boy, was she determined. She was relentless. Finally, she got on top of the other girl and mercilessly hit her with everything she had, punches, knees, slaps, until the poor woman was beat into submission. Little Sherry became a star that night. Her videos are the company’s best sellers. Crowds come out for her live events. She is little but feisty and very aggressive. And she’s beautiful. And she’s mine. My Little Sherry.
Sherry won her first few fights. When she opened an OnlyFans site, I quickly joined. We exchanged messages. It was magic. It was if Sherry knew me. She was seeing the real me that no one else knows. And she liked me. She would post messages on her Twitter account that I knew were just for me. We had this coded language that only the two of us shared.
Sherry and I met in person after one of her live event fights. She was washed up and dressed by that point. There were a lot of guys gathered around her, trying to talk to her. Then, she looked at me and I knew right away it was special. I performed a magic card trick for her. She laughed so hard and begged me to tell her the secret to the trick. I refused and just kept teasing her. We laughed and laughed.
Sherry allowed me to contact her on her personal cell phone and we soon started dating. It didn’t seem to matter that I had no dating experience. We just seemed natural together. I never danced in my life, but when I danced with Sherry, it was as if the heavens opened and angels were smiling on us. We’ve been to dinners, movies, plays. We spent a weekend together on Cape Cod, and at midnight, on the beach, I made love to a woman for the first time. She was an angel. I see her lovely face with her blonde hair, green eyes, and tight little body constantly. I hear her voice saying my name. Some things are just meant to be.
Tonight, Sherry will be fighting a woman from Germany touring the U.S. Her name is Gunda. She’s had a few fights in Europe. She is small like Sherry. Physically, they are evenly matched. I’m sure my little Sherry will win. She’s my little dynamo.
It's almost quitting time. I’m running a little late, so I text Sherry to let her know. I move from office to office, emptying trash and recyclables, finally depositing them into a centralized dumpster. That’s it. Over. Time to get to Sherry. I barely throw my coat on as I head out the door into the bitter night air.
“Why the hurry, Conner?” Jack the security guard asks as I fly by him. “Another date with your girl?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well. treat her good now. Looks like you found a gem.”
He is certainly right. I shiver and adjust my winter cap, scarf and gloves as I make my way to the Riverway train platform. Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long. I take my seat on the train and text Sherry that I’m coming.
Sherry and I have only been seeing each other for a few months, but she has already hinted at the future. She plans to fight for two more years, while she works as a hair stylist. She is saving money to open her own salon. She would like to have kids. I dream of the two of us in our home with our children. My phone pings with a new text. The fights have already started, Sherry’s message is “Please hurry.”
The train reaches my stop and I hop out onto the platform. The fights are several blocks away in a bad section of Roxbury. I try to keep aware of my surroundings as I walk as fast as my legs will take me, excited with anticipation.
I reach the address. The building looks terrible. There are crumbling concrete walls covered in graffiti. Broken glass windows are held together by duct tape, protected by vertical iron bars. The large door is chipped with badly faded paint. I fish my printable ticket from my pocket and enter.
The light and warm temperature of the interior is a relief from the cold and darkness. I can hear the raucous shouts of loud male voices; I know the fights have started. I’ve been here before. I know Sherry is in a dressing room down the hallway. As I move toward the hall, a hand on my shoulder pulls me back and I hear a man’s voice.
“Hey Bud, where do you think you’re going?”
“To the dressing rooms to see Sherry.”
“We have rules. No men allowed beyond this line. Our ladies deserve safety and privacy.”
“But I’m her boyfriend.”
“You heard me. No exceptions. Now go take a seat in the arena area.”
I text the news to Sherry that I’m blocked from seeing her. I’m hoping she’ll come out and tell the organizers it’s fine for me to go back, but she doesn’t appear. I’m sure she’s busy getting ready. I wish I could be with her, encouraging her, massaging her, helping her stretch, kissing her, telling her how much I love her.
The building smells old and musty. I walk over to the arena section. This was an old YMCA building, but isn’t used for much of anything anymore. The catfight producers rent out the basketball court for their live events. Mats are laid down over the hard wooden floor. Rows of seven or eight bleachers line opposite sides of the mat. A fight is in process as I tiptoe around the periphery of the court and stake out a second-row bleacher seat. There are around one hundred people here tonight, mostly men. I remove layers of my bulky winter outerwear and place them closely next to me as I take my seat.
A fight is already in progress. Courtney, a tall lanky blonde is battling Misha, a woman of Indian ethnicity in a submission bikini catfight. Although both women weigh about the same, Misha is shorter and bulkier. The fight is no contest. Misha is mauling her opponent. Courtney is not a good fighter, having lost most of her matches. Misha is dominating her, throwing slaps, body punches, locking her up on the ground. It’s a matter of time, as Courtney has nothing left after absorbing a lot of punishment. Finally, Misha throws her hapless foe to the mat by her hair, sits on her chest, trapping her arms under her knees. With her arms free, Misha makes a threatening fist in front of Courney’s face, as the blonde surrenders. The crowd applauds as Misha stands up and plants her foot on her victim’s chest for the victory pose. Courney is assisted to her feet by two attendants as both women exit the arena.
Two female gladiators arrive for the next event, a topless wrestling match to end with a long 10-second pin. The company pays women more for competing topless, even more if they battle nude. Both women remove their robes. Their weight is listed as both being 155 lbs. Alysha is a 42-year-old African-American woman. I like Alysha. She’s a very pretty woman with cornrow braided hair and a lovely smile. I talked to her once at a meet and greet event. She was very nice and allowed me to have my picture taken with her. Alysha retired from catfighting several years ago, but as a single parent in financial difficulty, she returned to the company to make extra money. She won her first return fight against a newcomer. But tonight, she’s facing a very tough opponent, a woman who goes by the name of “Venom.”
Venom is an auburn-haired Caucasian woman in her 20s, about the same size as Alysha. She is not a particularly attractive woman and does not seem like a very friendly person. She has served time in prison for burglary and is rumored to have been in a girl gang associated with the Lenox Street boys. This is her third bout with the company, she has won the previous two.
The referee summons both women to meet in the center of the mat as he reviews instructions. I always like this part in topless contests when the women stand in front of each other, face-to-face with their tits opposing each other. Both women look strong and but neither one has a fit looking body. Stripped to their panties, Alysha’s are yellow and Venom’s are purple, the women posture and do the stare down. I really hope Alysha wins. I’m disappointed that the crowd is solidly rooting for Venom.
The referee has the women step back, then calls for the match to start. The ladies circle each other, then lock up. Venom seems to be the stronger of the two, able to push Alysha backward. Venom goes for the legs, taking Alysha down. As the older woman escapes, Venom immediately goes right back after her, tying her up on the mat. As Venom attempts to transition, Alysha escapes again.
Venom is very aggressive, barely giving her opponent time to breathe. She is dominating Alysha. I’m worried that Alysha may not be able to hold off this assault. She is using her experience to survive, but that is all she is doing in this match, just surviving.
We are now several minutes into this match and it is all Venom. She is wearing out her older opponent, using her weight for leverage, applying riding techniques. Alysha is having a harder and harder time keeping her shoulders off the mat.
As more time goes by, Alysha looks absolutely gassed. As the ladies tie up into a stalemate on the ground, the referee has them stand. Poor Alysha struggles to get on her feet and her breathing is labored. I’m heartbroken for her. I fear her defeat is inevitable. I’m dreading hearing the ten-count over her doomed supine body.
Venom wastes no time seizing Alysha, lifting her off her feet and slamming her to the mat. With Alysha on her back, Venom pounces on her victim for a cross body press. The count starts. At five seconds, Alysha manages to squirm enough to lift one shoulder up. However, Venom keeps up the pressure. She pins Alysha several more times but can’t get to the full ten count. The crowd is loving it as they count along, waiting to erupt at the fateful final second.
I know Alysha is desperate and cannot avoid defeat much longer. I’m wishing she would just take the ten to end this humiliation. Venom is getting visibly frustrated. Finally, the aggressor tries to transition to a schoolgirl pint, but once again, Alysha still has enough to hang on by a thread.
Venom, now looking very irritated, dismounts her opponent and taunts her to get to her feet. She apparently feels she needs to punish her victim more to get the final pin. Alysha struggles to get up as Venom verbally abuses her. The ebony beauty barely lifts her knees off the mat when Venom takes hold of her, then throws her down with a judo toss. As the former gang girl moves in for the kill, Alysha, while on her back, kicks Venom’s leg, knocking her off balance. The fighting single mom sits up, wraps her arm around her stumbling opponent’s neck, hooks a leg with her other arm, and rolls Venom over on her back, locking in an inside cradle hold. The referee and the shocked crowd counts. Venom kicks her feet furiously, but Alysha clasps her hands together tight, keeping the younger woman trapped. Eight…Nine….Ten! The crowd goes nuts. Alysha, dear Alysha found a seemingly miraculous way to win.
The pretty black woman releases the hold and rolls on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Battered and exhausted, she is motionless except for her bare chest with her large dark areolae and nipples heaving up and down, her gaping lungs sucking in air. I wish I could freeze this moment in time. This beautiful warrior, this wily veteran, gained a victory within inches of her life. However, I’m concerned that age has caught up with her and she may not be so fortunate next time. But, right now, her dark skin glazed in sweat, her body flat as she waits to recover, she has this moment.
Venom pounds her fist on the mat out of frustration and storms out of the arena, as Alysha is helped back to the dressing room to a round of applause. A woman cleans the mat with a mop during a brief intermission. Alysha’s victory feels like an appetizer to the next event: Sherry versus Gunda in a bikini catfight. Sherry’s victory will make this into a perfect night.
I feel restless anticipating Sherry’s arrival to the mat. I know she is in her dressing room in the final seconds waiting for her cue. I text her again. She returns it with the heart emoji for love. I’m excited and a little giddy. I am not worried and I have no doubt Sherry will win. Pound for pound, she is the best fighter in the company.
And then…the two bikini-clad participants approach the mat from opposite sides. Sherry is wearing her trademark pink. Her green eyes look intense, as in all of her fights. Her cute pixie face is stern. Her blonde hair is curly and short and won’t be easy to pull.
This is my first look at Gunda who is visiting from Germany. Her straight black hair is in a tight bun. She has sleeve tattoos and ink on her upper chest. Her oval face is solemn. Her body is small and tight, like Sherry’s. And just like Sherry, she looks like she means business.
The women do their stretching exercises, as the owner of the company introduces the fighters. A loud raucous of applause erupts when Sherry is announced. She is a fan favorite. “I love you, Sherry,” a man shouts from a bleacher behind me. “Marry me, Sherry,” another hollers. I smile. I am a very lucky man. I feel badly that I didn’t see Sherry before this fight. I wanted so much to be with her, give her encouragement. I hope she’s not upset with me.
“I see you, Conner. I am so glad you are here now.”
What? What was that? A voice?...Sherry?
“We’ll be together soon. Right after I kick this woman’s ass. I can’t wait.”
It can’t be Sherry. It’s a hallucination. It’s not real. Except…this is different. I know what my auditory hallucinations sound like and this isn’t it. It’s real…Sherry is reading my mind and communicating with me telepathically.
“That is correct, sweetie. Our love has connected us together. But I must go now. I love you.”
I am overwhelmed with joy. This confirms that Sherry and I are one. We will be together forever. I can hardly control my excitement as the fight is about to start. Sherry looks so sexy during the stare down. The two diminutive bikini fighters stand toe to toe, facing each other. Sherry can freeze anyone with her stare, but Gunda’s is just as intimidating. Both women are sent to their corners to await the signal.
The order is given, “Fight”. Both women immediately rush at each other. Sherry usually starts out aggressively, but Gunda has the same plan as he two fighters go immediately on the offensive. The action is a blur of swinging arms, slaps, grabbing, pushing, legs kicking as their shrieks fill the arena to the excitement of the testosterone filled spectators. With their arms wrapped around each other, the ladies due a stumbling dance, trying to trip each other with their feet. Locked together, they tumble to the ground, rolling across the mat, each pushing and pulling as the tangled legs struggle for control. They roll, alternating which one is on top. Finally, it is Gunda who maintains an upper position holding Sherry on her back. However, Sherry is able to use her legs to avoid more serious trouble; she uses her legs to scissors her attacker’s waist, knocking her off balance, then kicking her in the chest, before rolling to an escape.
Both women rise to their feet. This time, they approach each other more cautiously, circling each other instead of rushing in.
She’s tough, Conner. But I can take her.
I know you will, baby girl. You got this. The two fighters glare at each other, as they shorten the distance between them. They engage in another stare down, when suddenly, Gunda unleashes a slap across Sherry’s face. The smacking sound is heard throughout the arena, as the crowd reacts with “ooh.”
Sherry, with her fast little hands, retaliates with her own quick slap. Once again, the women tear into each other. Infuriated, Sherry dominates this time, tackling the German woman to the mat. The ladies grapple, with Sherry maintaining an advantage on top. She is pissed off and looking for a finish, throwing a series slaps and punches, but Gunda is blocking most of them. She manages to push Sherry off of her, but my little fighter stays on the attack.
That bitch! She has no idea what I’m about to do to her.
My little Sherry is a sweetheart, except when she fights, she has a hot temper. Gunda has fired her up with that slap to the face. Sherry pounces on Gunda again, forcing the brunette on her back while Sherry tries to mount her for control. Gunda struggles to avoid an extreme disadvantage, fighting and bucking, until she manages to escape again. As she tries to stand, Sherry swiftly moves in, executes a headlock, then swings Gunda down to the mat, squeezing the head with all her might. She positions her little body against her victim’s face, attempting to smother her into submission. It must be working, because I see Gunda frantically kicking and flailing like a panicked person who can’t breathe. Shery knows this as she urges the woman to give up. The crowd also senses this as it anticipates Gunda’s surrender.
Suddenly, Sherry shriek’s and releases the hold. I am confused as to what happened. Now I see. Gunda reached around and used her nails to scratch Sherry across the back. I don’t like scratching in catfights, Sherry doesn’t either, but when an opponent crosses that line, Sherry can scratch with the best of them. Sherry rolls away. I can see the linear red marks on her back. Sherry is pissed. Gunda is really asking for a severe beating.
What a dirty piece of shit, Conner. I am going to beat the fuck out of her now.
Sherry stands while Gunda is now on her knees. Sherry circles her in a game of cat-and-mouse. As the tattooed fighter tries to stand, Sherry delivers a hard kick to the belly, doubling over her adversary. My little warrior moves in for the kill, scratching Gunda across the back in retaliation. Then, she unleashes all her fury. Her hands and arms are a blur as she throws flurries of slaps and punches, peppering Gunda’s head and body. This time most of them are landing. The German girl tries to fight back, but Sherry is overwhelming her with the attack. Gunda is staggered. Sherry takes advantage and rips open the front clasp of her opponent’s bikini top, forcing the cups apart, exposing bare breasts.
Sherry’s claws her hands and aims right for the vulnerable boobs. Gunda lets out a squeal as Sherry squeezes the mammary tissue, digging in her finger nails. As Gunda tries to extract Sherry’s tiny talons, Sherry takes advantage of the opening and delivers a hard slap across the face that nearly turns her enemy’s head around, causing her to reel uncontrollably across the mat.
Gunda manages to stay on her feet, but she is looking stunned and beaten. Her skin is covered in red blotches and scratch marks. Her bikini top is held on by the back clap and neck tie only, with the front cups detached and dangling downward. Sherry moves in with more blows, belting her opponent across the arena.
After dishing out a serious beat down, it appears that Sherry is looking to end the fight. She forced Gunda’s head forward, and wraps her arms around her head, applying a front face lock. She forces Gunda to walk with her to the center of the mat. I am excited to se how Sherry will finish her off. Sherry looks like she’s about to execute some kind of take down.
Watch this, Conner. This is dedicated to you!
I’m watching, babe. I’m watching. What are you going to do to her? Are you going to… What happened? Sherry, what happened? What’s going on?
I’m shocked and confused as I see my girl release the hold and drop to her knees in pain. I saw what happened but it was all so fast. Gunda kneed my little Sherry in the pussy. My honey is on her knees with her head pitched forward on the mat. She is in pain.
Gunda is standing over her. Sherry knows it. She tries to rise, but Gunda positions herself behind my little angel and starts hammering Sherry’s back. Blow after blow. One after another. Gunda’s uses her fists like tiny sledge hammers, pounding my baby repeatedly.
Sherry drops forward, now lying face down on the mat. I call out to her. The crowd seems nervous. Gunda mounts her back. She seizes Sherry’s left arm and pulls it back, bringing the wrist nearly up to the shoulder in a brutal hammerlock. The German fighter drives a knee into Sherry’s back. She maintains the hammerlock with one hand and pushes the back of Sherry’s head, burying my baby’s nose into the smelly mat. This can’t be happening. “Give up, bitch?” Gunda demands an answer.
With her face planted in the mat, her little bare feet helplessly kicking, Sherry could barely mutter words I never dreamed of her saying. “Yes, I give up. You win. Stop.” At the same time, her right hand frantically taps the mat, lest her muffled voice could not be heard. The crowd falls quiet. The moment is surreal. And for a few seconds, I thought I had an out of body experience.
Gunda releases the hammerlock and allows Sherry to lift her face up enough to breathe. But she remains mounted on Sherry’s back and raises her arms upward in a victory pose. The winner removes the last attachment of her bikini top, proudly showing off her breasts with the body language of a female who just bested another woman. She grabs the back of Sherry’s hair and pulls upward, showing the anguished elfin face to the spectators. All I want is to go to Sherry, pick her up and tell her how much I love her.
Don’t look, Conner. Don’t see me this way. I’m so sorry, Conner.
Finally, Gunda dismounts Sherry and victoriously leaves the arena to faint polite applause. Sherry lies still for a moment then slowly rises. She is given applause. “I still love you, Sherry,” a man yells. Once she is on her feet, Sherry bursts into sobs, covers her face, then runs toward the back area.
I am devastated but I cannot think about my feelings right now. I must be strong for Sherry. She will depend on me to help her heal physically and emotionally.
“Conner, I need you. Please come back here with me.
I’m coming Sherry. I’m on my way, baby doll. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take you home. I will care for you. I will help build you up again. You will be back. I will be there every step of the way. You and I, honey, we are a team. I leave the bleachers, and run from the basketball court to the lobby. I race toward the hallway to the locker rooms. A large arm grabs me.
“Where do you think you are going, Bud?” a man asks.
“I’ve got to see Sherry.”
“Oh, no you are not. No men allowed past this line.”
“But Sherry is waiting for me.”
“No exceptions.”
“But Sherry is my girlfriend. She is calling for me. Look, I can prove it. Here are her text messages.” I bring up Sherry’s messages, then show the man my cell phone.
“Uh,” the man says, “Real funny, Dude. You just showed me a string of texts that says ‘Undeliverable Message. Invalid number’. Nice try.”
“You don’t understand!” I try to explain. Sherry needs me!”
“Look Bro, you are going to have to leave. Hey Derek, show this gentleman the door.”
An even larger man, leads me by the arm, kicks the door open and pushes me outside. The door slams behind me. The frigid air numbs my body as I hurriedly cover up into my winter apparel. I have no choice now but to wait. It hurts knowing Sherry wants me with her. I need to dry her tears. I am so heartbroken for her. I am relieved when I hear her voice.
Conner, where are you? Please come back to my room.
I tried, my love. They would not let me. They threw me out the door. Come outside when you are ready. I will wait for you.
Freezing rain begins to fall, creating a layer of ice on contact with the roads and sidewalk. I shiver as I wait for Sherry. I can hear faint cheers from inside the walls of the building as the fight program continues. I pace back and forth on the sidewalk to keep warm. I think of how I will wrap my arms around Sherry and hug her the moment I see her.
Conner, I hurt so badly.
I know, honey. I will take care of you. I can’t wait to see you. I will hold you and comfort you. I will take away your pain. Come outside. I will accompany you home.
I slip and nearly fall as the freezing rain makes any type of transportation treacherous. Sherry is taking her time. That’s alright. She can have all the time she needs. I will be here for her. I can only wait. This is a bad neighborhood with a lot of crime. Fortunately, the weather is driving everyone indoors. I notice a street vendor about to close shop. Perhaps I can buy a gift for Sherry. I shuffle toward the merchandise display. I can’t believe my good fortune. A dozen long stem roses. The vendor, a thin older black man with a white beard, hurriedly takes my money and hands me the flowers. “A snow and ice storm is coming, my friend,” he says. “Gonna call it a night and get home. I suggest you do the same.”
I head back to the outside of the YMCA door and resume waiting for Sherry. I haven’t heard her voice for at least half an hour, so I send her my own telepathic communication, reminding her I am here. I hear nothing back. I text her but receive no reply.
Twenty more minutes go but. Finally, the door swings open and spectators pour out onto the street and sidewalk. “Oh shit, it’s freezing rain, they say,” as they gingerly trying to avoid slipping. More and more people exit, some of them discussing the fights, until the file thins. Then the door closes. Still no Sherry.
I text her. Nothing. In my head, I call for her. She doesn’t answer back. I feel my anxiety growing. I see two people approach me from around the corner. It’s a couple. The man has his arm around the woman as they walk, bundled up against the cold and sleet. As they get closer, I see they are black. I know the woman. It’s Alysha. She looks just as elegant in her winter attire as she does in only her panties.
“Hi Alysha,” I call out. “Congratulations on your win. Have a good night.”
“Why, thank you, dear,” she smiles. “You have a good one as well. Stay warm.”
What a class act. “Um, Alysha, have you seen Sherry? Is she still inside. I’ve been waiting for her.” Alysha and her companion do not answer as they fade into the dark icy night. Perhaps she didn’t hear me. The YMCA door opens one more time and I see the producers leaving the building. Are they the last to leave? I wonder.
“Excuse me,” I shout. “Is Sherry still inside?”
“We told you, ya dumb fuck, we don’t give out any info about our ladies,” they scoff at me as they shuffle off.
The door to the YMCA building is now locked from the outside. I’m totally alone. The streets and sidewalks are empty as the stinging mixture of sleet and snow becomes denser. All of my communications with Sherry have failed. I let her down.
Then, I realized something. Alysha came from around the building. There must be another exit. There must be another door at the back of the building. Sherry must have gone out that way like the rest of the girls. I run as quickly as I can, slipping and sliding on the ice covered concrete and asphalt. I’m now behind the building. Yes! I see the door. It’s locked.
Down the next block, I see a silhouette through the steady sheets of falling ice and frigid air, walking away on the sidewalk. My heart pounds. Sherry, I found you. I gallop toward her as quickly as the hazardous conditions will allow. It’s her. It’s definitely her. She looks so lovely in her parka and winter boots, her pretty hair covered in an adorable large wool cap. I’m coming Sherry. I’m almost there.
“Sherry!” I scream as distance between us melts away. “Here I am, love. Let’s go home.” I run up behind her and wrap my arms around her petite waist, spinning her around, kissing her face and head. She struggles, her arms fly at me, slapping and scratching my face.
“AAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH!” Her shriek shocks me. Her lovely green eyes are windows of sheer terror. She looks like a panicked wild animal. I don’t understand it. She’s confused.
“Sherry, it’s me…Conner”. She pulls away from me. Her hand is reaching toward my face. She is holding something. My eyes burn, I am blind. I don’t see Sherry. I reach for her, but I lose my balance. The ice causes my feet to slip away. I crash to the ground…Now I know…Pepper spray. It was pepper spray. Poor Sherry. She doesn’t understand. I want to go to her and explain, but I can’t see her. I struggle to get up, but I fall again. I lost Sherry’s roses. Where is she? I hear a man’s voice.
“Sherry! Are you okay? Who is this guy?”
“I have no idea,” her trembling voice answers.
I am kicked in the stomach as I lie on my side. The pain bores right through my abdomen to my back. I can’t breathe.
“You motherfucker! Don’t ever touch my girl again,” the man growls. “Let’s call the cops.”
“No, I just want to go home,” Sherry says. “Hunter, what took you so long to get here?”
“My fucking old man took his good old time showing up with the bail money.” I hear Sherry sob. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I’m here now. Come on babe, I’ll take you home. My car is in the parking garage.”
All is quiet, except the sound of the wind and the soft crinkle of sleet falling on the unforgiving urban jungle. I’m in too much pain to move. My eyes still burn. My hands find one of the lost roses. There’s still hope…It’s all a misunderstanding…I still love you, Sherry…And I know you still love me too.
