A soft knock came from behind Mitch, which pulled him out of his head. He turned towards the origin of the sound, and nearly did a doubletake. In the doorway stood a bespectacled man with a neat beard that was about as broad as the space he occupied. His shirt was a size or two too small, and Mitch thought to himself that if this guy so much as coughed, it’d be torn to shreds.

“Uh, hi there,” Mitch gave a small wave, since Jodie either hadn’t heard the knock or was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice. He did his best to act nonchalant even though he was very aware of the visitor’s identity. They’d never met until now, but being anywhere in the vicinity of the indies these days meant being familiar with Avi Sher.

“What happened to your arm, dude?” Avi asked, as if they did know one another. His voice much softer than whatever Mitch had anticipated.

“I-” Mitch tensed up, totally caught off guard. “Torn rotator cuff from a match the other night.”

Avi gave a low whistle, and it made Mitch even more desperate to hide away than he’d already been. This reaction was getting old fast, and he wondered at what point in his life sympathy started to equate with shame and suffocation. Was it when he’d immigrated to the United States as a child? When he first came out to his friends and family about being gay? Or maybe when he had to confess that he’d been abusing painkillers and needed help?

“Hey, you Avi?” Jodie -the defacto savior of Mitch’s entire well being- spoke up.

Avi smiled brightly. “Yeah, I’m looking for Jodie. I take it you’re-”

“Jodie,” she replied and held a hand out, which Avi stepped forward and shook. “So I have some paperwork for you to fill out. Are you cool with Mitch hanging out on the couch, or do you want me to boot him or…” She trailed off and pursed her lips in thought, and Mitch could practically feel her gearing up to be tactful. “He’s kind of going through some shit right now, but he also can leave.”

Mitch made a face at her.

“Nah, it’s cool. We were just talking about his arm.” Avi looked over his shoulder, still smiling. There was that familiarity again; it wasn’t unsettling, but Mitch was naturally wary. He slid over to one side of the couch so that Avi could have a seat. As he wrote down information on a sheet of paper that was attached to a clipboard, Mitch couldn’t help but notice that the guy smelled like an entire Lush catalogue.

While Jodie and Avi had their discussion, Mitch tried not to eavesdrop too hard, but it was tough. Jodie was an decent bullshit artist when it mattered, and always talked just enough shop so that she appeared to be knowledgable. Her gift had always been analysis, and that made her an effective carny. It never ceased to amaze him how little Jodie actually knew of “the business”, historically speaking, or that she didn’t even care about that lack of knowledge. She’d only gotten into this just a few years prior, after she’d met her biological father and found out that he was a professional wrestler. But she was a theater kid in highschool and held a MBA, so between that and a decent understanding of how to use Google, she was always able to be seen as competent when it came to wrestling.

“So we have a ton of stuff to go over, but my dad isn’t here to take you through your duties. I can give you a tour of the place, though,” Jodie offered.

“Sounds good.” They both got up to leave, and before Avi followed Jodie out of the room, he paused in the doorway, turned to Mitch, and in a gentle tone said, “Hey man, good luck with your recovery. I’ve been there, it goes by fast.”

“He lives at the house, you can talk to him more about it then,” Jodie called behind her.

“Oh!” exclaimed Avi. “Well in that case, see you later, roomie!”

Mitch blinked, and for the sake of politeness managed to blurt a “Ye-yeah. Later!”, but they had both already left the room.

After letting go of a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding onto, Mitch stared into space and tried to process whatever had just happened. As he did, his phone vibrated. He’d completely forgotten about it, as well as the entire nightmare situation he’d been plunged into, for that short duration.

And if he could not focus on it for 5 minutes, god willing, he might be able to pull through after all.