Know that old saying �there are two sides to every story�? Well, I now know that it can refer to people as well. There are two sides to every person.
Sure, each person have their own little quirks, and different layers of personality and all that, but I had never really believed in any of that crap before. Well, that is, until tonight, when I realised that each of us really do have two sides � the public one that we show everyone, and that is expected of us; and the private one that we show only to a select few, if any.
*
I hadn�t meant to eavesdrop on her. I had gotten to the arena early, wanting to have a talk with my new boss. The door had been partially open, and just as I had been about to knock, something made me just stop and listen to her. Her voice had been soft, almost inaudible. She had sounded upset, and her voice had been husky, as if she�d just been, or was still, crying.
�I don�t want to fight over the phone,� she was saying, practically pleading. �Please, can�t we just-� She broke off, obviously having been interrupted. And she had sniffed. She had been crying. �Of course not! How can you even say that?�
I know that the conversation had been extremely private, and that it was meant for no one else�s ears. But I just couldn�t seem to make myself take a step back and walk away. There had been something in her tone that made me want to go inside and throw my arms around her, tell her that everything was going to be okay.
�You know that�s not true,� she had said after a pause. �Can�t we just- You don�t mean that��
And then there had been no more. A soft sob had escaped her throat, and my heart had constricted. God, how I had wanted to hold the woman in my arms, wipe away her tears. Just hold her.
*
I�m not blind. The first time I saw her in person, I fell in�love? No, I don�t believe in any of that rubbish either. I think I just plain wanted her. In person, she�s the definition of beauty. Of course I�ve seen her on TV before, but seeing her face to face, it was just�wow!
And I�m pretty sure I wasn�t the only person who noticed. I�ve seen a couple of the other guys staring at her in what can only be called �adoration�. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had power. A woman in charge of a man�s world.
Then, she had opened her mouth. And my perfect vision of her was tarnished. She had seemed so arrogant, so selfish. Hell, she had seemed like right old bitch! Still didn�t take away the fact that she was beautiful. A little too skanky-looking for my taste, but underneath all that inch-deep makeup, she was just�wow. So I had continued to furtively stare, watching every single movement she made. And I know for a fact that I wasn�t the only.
And I�m still not the only one.
How could we not stare at her? Despite her being a married woman, and to one of the top wrestlers in the industry today, all of us are always trying to flirt with her, impress her. Make her laugh, make her smile. Just make her look at us.
Make her look at me.
*
Then, her tone during that phone conversation�that�s when it had hit me. The woman that she reveals in public eye isn�t the real her. Because the Real her is the one who had been inside that dressing room, softly crying as her husband � I can only assume � had expressed displeasure with her. A woman as vulnerable to the aches and pains of life.
As quietly as I could, I had finally turned and walked away. But for that minute that I had been privy to the Real her, it had been somewhat an exhilarating feeling. I knew the Real her.
Me.
When I saw her again just before my match, she had reverted to her Public self. One that I was starting to dislike already, because it wasn�t the Real her. The Real her was real, was human. The Public her was a role.
Before I knew it, I had reached out and touched her. I had placed a hand on her shoulder as she screamed out �I hate you!� to the image of Jericho on the TV screen. I had touched her.
During the match I found myself performing for her. I knew she was in the back, watching. Watching me. Despite the crowd not being behind me, I hadn�t cared. Because I knew that she was cheering for me, willing me to win.
And I did.
Just like any other match, I was hurting as I made my way to the back. But I was happy, because I had won, and she had seen me win. She and her brother had come out to congratulate me, huge smiles on their faces.
I made her smile. It was the Public smile, but it was because of me. And only me.
Soon after I was surrounded by fellow WCW and ECW wrestlers, and she and her brother had disappeared. No doubt to motivate the others yet to wrestle.
*
I don�t see her again until the end of the night, when we find ourselves walking out of the arena at the same time. I�d be lying if I said I�m not at all intimidated by her.
�Hey,� she greets with a Public smile.
�Mrs McMahon-Helmsley,� I reply, not wanting to offend her by calling her by her first name.
But she just rolls her eyes. �Please, just Stephanie. Besides, technically, you work for Shane, not me.�
I smile, some of my nerves leaving. Stephanie. �Alright.�
And she smiles again. A Real smile. A Stephanie smile. �You wrestled great out there tonight, Billy.�
But before I can reply, she walks away towards her car and gets in. And I find myself jealous of a man I have yet to meet. Triple H. Her husband.
Because she goes home to him, as Stephanie, and leaves behind McMahon-Helmsley for the rest of us.