Post by Dionysus on Dec 17, 2022 23:38:00 GMT -5
A gentle snowfall danced through the air as Dionysus looked out the window. The weather had finally taken a turn for the better, perfect for a very important visit. Even as he poured himself a glass of wine, Dionysus could see his hands were shaking. The feeling he had…was it his nerves? Anticipation? Fear? He could not quite place the emotion in his mind, but he was thankful no one else was with him to see how transparent his emotions were at that moment. It was a long drive, admittedly; it would take about an hour to reach his destination. Thankfully, he would not be the one to drive.
Dionysus turned his head, facing forward, to look out the front of the car, and in particular, the driver. He was a portly man, presumably in his early 50s, the remaining hair on his head changing from a rich black to a stately grey. He wore a plain black suit and tie, though with the chill in the air, he also donned a peacoat, his gloves sitting in the passenger seat next to him, if Dionysus had to guess. They had a brief conversation before making the journey, as the location was not particularly well-known, and since then, the vehicle was silent, all but the orchestra of the road entertaining the ear.
That is, until the driver saw Dionysus looking at him. “Something wrong?” he inquired, not taking his eyes of the road. “Are we still heading in the right direction?”
Dionysus snapped out of his long stare and took another glance outside. He marveled at the sight of the Minnesota bluffs in the winter, and perhaps took a moment too long to respond back to the driver. Dionysus heard the driver repeat the question, and he sheepishly replied, “Ah, yes, sorry. We are heading in the right direction. Take the next right, and there will be a spot to pull over about a half a mile down the road.”
“Yes sir,” the driver confirmed, leaning closer to the wheel to see the road signs better.
“I don’t believe I caught your name. Apologies,” Dionysus added, looking to break the silence more.
“Henry,” he replied gruffly, his attention predominantly on reaching their destination.
Dionysus shrugged, allowing a chuckle to escape his lips, as he took a long drink from his glass. He set the now empty glass in the compartment next to him, and watched as the vehicle started to turn down a familiar road. A minute passed and at long last, they had arrived, pulling into the turnoff spot. “Here it is, sir: Appleby Pool,” Henry announced. He looked back at Dionysus, a look of both confusion and concern crossing the stranger’s face. “You sure, uhh…you sure you want me to leave you here? I can stay if-”
Dionysus nodded, digging in his pockets for his wallet. “Yes, for about an hour or so. I know-it is an odd-*grunt* request,” He said, struggling to pull his wallet out, “But I would prefer to be alone for a while.” As he looked for crisp bills, he looked back up at Henry, noting his concern. Dionysus smiled, reassuring, “Oh I’ll be fine, Henry. What I mean to say is…it will be boring for you if you wait here for an hour. So go get lunch, on me,” he paused, handing Henry two twenty dollar bills. “Think of it as an extra tip.” Henry relaxed, reaching for the money, then stopping short. “I’m sure you cannot accept extra tips, but I won’t say anything if you won’t,” Dionysus devilishly implied. That seemed enough motivation for Henry to grab the twenties from his hand. With that done, Dionysus opened the car door and set one foot outside. “Plainview is not too far from here, if you would prefer somewhere close to eat. Enjoy your time off. One hour,” Dionysus concluded as he stepped out of the vehicle, bundling his coat tighter to his body. With a wave of his hand, Dionysus saw the vehicle drive off, heading southbound.
It was only Dionysus and the elements now.
He took in a deep breath of cold winter air, savoring how clean it smelled, compared to where he lived in the city. As he exhaled, he watched his breath float away, mingling with the falling snow. He adjusted the collar of his jacket and began to trudge through the snow, walking along the edge of the lake. As he did, he looked out across the icy sheen of the water’s surface; it was smooth, completely undisturbed from what he could see. In a few weeks, maybe even days, this lake would be home to a handful of ice fishing structures.
But not this day. This day was for Dionysus. As he continued to hike to his destination, a memory flashed into his mind…
Dion, as he preferred to be called as a child, stared at the static of the television set in front of him. It was late, much later than his mother would normally let him stay up. His red curly hair was trimmed for school pictures the next day, but was as messy as ever. His socks hang loosely from his feet as his much-too-tight-for-his-size pajamas clinged to his body. His feet dangled at the edge of the couch as another man was smacking the side of the television, then smacked the VCR, before returning to the TV for one final whack. The static cleared, bringing an image of a wrestling match already in progress. The man then stood up, groaning and stretching his back as he did so. Dressed in a white beater and shorts, the older man took a seat next to Dion, his eyes focused on the screen. “You see that, Dion?” he asked the child with pride. “That’s your dear ol’ dad in his first wrestling match.”
Dion looked up at his father, his eyes filled with wonder and admiration. His hair was slicked back, his mustache full and luxurious, perfectly accenting his somewhat bulbous nose. That part was not a fault of genetics, though; he had injured his face earlier in the day, and decided not to bother with putting an ice pack to reduce the swelling. Dion giggled, sliding up next to his father saying excitedly, “That’s YOU?!”
His father, Hector, laughed loudly. “Sure is, kiddo. I don’t look like that anymore, not since I-uhh…got hurt, but-”
A loud thud, combined with an announcer saying “OH MY” and a roar of cheers from the crowd, came out of the television. Dion squealed with excitement as he watched Hector on screen delivering a body slam to a much larger opponent. Hector wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, as he looked on with anticipation. Dion heard footsteps from the next room and turned to look. His mother was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, looking tired but smiling warmly. “Now you know that you’re up past your bedtime, young man. You have school tomorrow,” she informed, though any harshness was tempered out of her voice.
“Aww mom, just five more minutes?”
“Aww Josephine, just five more minutes?”
Like father, like son, both of the important men in her life just spoke simultaneously. She couldn’t help but giggle, then sigh with content, saying “Okay, five more minutes. But I also have school tomorrow, so Hector, would you mind turning down the TV?”
“Anything for you, sweetie pie,” Hector teased, waggling his eyebrows and winking at his bride.
“EEEEEEW!!” Dion yelled, sticking his tongue out. “Blech!”
The laughter the family shared that evening was one of warmth, of a love and bond that could never be broken. Dion hopped off the couch, giving Josephine a hug goodnight. She knelt down next to her son, giving him a bigger hug and a kiss on top of his head. Then, gently ruffling Dion’s hair, she turned back into the bedroom, gingerly closing the door behind her. Dion ran back to the couch, and at the last minute deciding to sit on the ground, in front of Hector’s legs. “Hey, look look! Here comes the finish!” Hector whispered, pointing to the screen as his younger self perform a ripcord clothesline.
“WHAT A MANEUVER!” Shouted the announcer as Hector drops down for the pin, and after three, winning the match. Both Hector and Dion cheered quietly, and Hector watched as his son crawled closer to the screen, watching as his hand was being held up in victory. Dion turned to look at his father, his eyes bright and filled with determination. “Dad, can I be like you when I grow up?”
Hector laughed with delight while he pointed at Dion. “You, little guy, want to be a wrestler?” he joked.
Dion pretended to get angry. “I’m not gonna be so little, and when I get big and strong, I’m gonna be the best wrestler ever! I’ll be a good guy and help everyone!” he exclaimed.
“Shhh,” Hector responded, attempting to quiet his son down. “Okay, okay, I believe you,” he said with warmth, holding his arms out. Dion stood up from the floor and ran to his father’s arms, sharing an embrace. “If you want to be a wrestler, then you’re going to be one, son. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.” He held his son tight, his pride welling up inside. Hector could even feel tears starting to form, but he blinked them away.
Dion looked up at his father. “You really mean it? I don’t want to do it if you won’t be there,” he pouted.
Hector laughed again, saying “I do, kiddo. Don’t you believe me?”
Dion, with all the defiance in his heart, held his small pinky in front of his father. “Pinky swears it?”
Hector looked at the pinky with confusion, then shrugged, wrapping his pinky around his son’s. “I promise you, Dion. I will help you make your dream come true. I will always be there for you, even when you can’t see me. I’ll always cheer you on, and always do what I can to help you. No matter what.”
Dion smiled. “Good, because I’m gonna be someone who helps fix people, so I’m gonna be The Fixer!”
Hector laughed again, pretending to argue, “Hey, that’s my name! You can’t be…”
Dionysus blinked rapidly, shaking himself out of his daydream. It seemed like only yesterday that he made that promise with his father. And yet, all these years later…Hector was nowhere to be found. His search had given him many leads, but nothing bore fruit. He was truly gone, either having passed away without anyone knowing, or working diligently to ensure no one ever found him. The only place where he knew he could find him…or rather, his spirit…was ahead.
His hike led him to a small grove nestled at the foot of the bluffs. A creek ran southward toward the lake, and next to it a large maple tree stood, naked in the winter air. Dionysus had been the one to plant it, along with his mother, so he knew what kind of tree it was even without the obvious identifier of the leaves. He had crafted a small bench to sit at, as well as a shrine near the base of the tree. Seeing that the shrine had filled with snow, Dionysus fell to his knees and began to clear it out. What would normally be a tedious task for some, he saw as being meditative; a chance for him to clear his mind and be in the presence of his surroundings. As he brushed snow and leaf aside, the shrine opened up more. Despite the name, the shrine itself was bare, aside from a stone set in the very back that read, “Animo,” the latin word for courage. Dionysus grinned, admiring his most recent addition, and relieved that it was still here.
Dionysus wiped his gloves clean as best he could of the snow and debris he cleared out, then he stood, choosing instead to take a seat on the bench after wiping it down. It was cold, and the dampness left by the snow seeped into Dionysus’s pants, but he paid it no mind. Now he had made it to his father’s place. Not his resting place, but the place he knew his father had spent most of his time growing up. Dionysus took a deep breath, saying “Hey dad…I wonder what you are up to…wherever you are.” He looked around sheepishly; he knew how awkward it was to be speaking aloud in the open, and despite his knowing that no one was there, Dionysus checked to be safe. “I just thought of that time you were showing me one of your old tapes…and the promise you made to me all those years ago. Well, here I am. Lord of the Vine. Master of Revels.” he paused, chuckling before adding “Best Ass in the Business. …Long story on that one, dad.”
He felt his head bob instinctively, the chill beginning to cut through his coat. He let out a shiver before continuing. “But yeah…your darling boy is a wrestler…just like you wanted,” he stuttured, feeling his emotions well up inside him. He started tapping his heel, first slowly, then much more rapid. It was a fidget he had mentioned to no one before, as Dionysus was embarrassed by it. “I just wish you could have seen the things I have done…the things I am about to do…and also the things I will do in the future. But…no one knows where you are.” He started to focus on his heel tapping, which bothered him greatly. He slammed his fist against the bench, shaking off some snow that had stuck to the bottom. The brief pain he felt in his hand calmed his nerves. “I don’t get why I can’t move on from you, you know that? Mom did. She remarried. Not that you would know. She married Benjamin, the man who raised me like the father you should have been,” he nearly shouted as his voice cracked. His face was flush and wet, though whether it was from the snow or his own tears, he was unsure. Dionysus did the best he could to wipe his face clean, clenching his now soaking hands in his lap. “I…there are days where I want to hate you. For leaving us without a word. For not telling us anything for years. For breaking your word to everyone you know and love in our lives…” he trailed off, gripping his hands tightly together. “...But I still can’t do it, dad. I love you too much. You gave me the inspiration to be the man I am today. I owe a lot of what I have done to your early guidance…but I also left you behind. I’m now doing all these things for my sake, not yours,” he finished, with confidence.
There was a brief moment where he felt hands press against his shoulders. As Dionysus turned to look, as he saw before, no one was present. Maybe his father’s spirit had heard him…wherever he was. But no, that was a childish fantasy, one that would never be resolved. Dionysus took off one of his gloves and, after unzipping his jacket part of the way, started digging around in his inner coat pockets. “I, uhh…I wrote down a little speech for you. Its stupid, I know, but I figured I will end up in a hall of fame at some point, so you might as well hear what I have to say now, before I get up on a stage and make an ass out of myself,” he mocked, drawing out a folded packet of paper. Dionysus coughed as he unfolded the paper, making sure he had the right page in front of him. He took a deep breath, then paused, snapping his fingers in his free hand. “I suppose I should do an introduction…but that would be kind of pointless, given what we’re doing here, dad...”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the latest inductee into the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame; The Lord of the Vine, Dionysus Berget!”
The audience clapped and cheered respectfully in this moment, the sold out ampitheater honoring the careers of many hall of fame inductees on this night. Dionysus sat, now in his late 50s, his hair now a wild red and silver with age. By some sheer force of will, or perhaps pure luck, his iconic deep blue suit still fit him...aged as it looked. He carried around a walking stick with the symbol of the thyrsus embedded into a ruby gem at the grip. At the sound of his name, Dionysus stood, albeit slowly; age was catching up to him, after all. His daughter, Cloe, helped him out of the chair, standing along with her other sisters, Leslie and Angela, as they cheered for their adopted father. He took the steps slowly, a sour expression on his face. The cheering and clapping died down as he creeped toward the podium. Then, just a few feet from the dais, he stopped...
He fell...
...
...
...And he rolled, standing upright on the other side of the podium, arms outstretched.
The crowd laughed and cheered at the same time as Dionysus waved to the audience, taking his proper place at the podium. A hall of fame ring sat in an open ring box on one side, a plaque with his name engraved on it on the other. Dionysus withdrew the note cards he had written his speech on, as well as an aged, folded document. He tapped the note cards gently, then adjusted the microphone so that he would have no need to lean over so much. "You know, they wanted to cast me as Wonka for the Willy Wonka remake," he began, getting the crowd laughing again.
Dionysus took the moment to look out into the crowd; many faces, old and new, looking up at a man with a storied history in the business. He had finally arrived. He reached the goal his father had instilled in him. If only he were here now to see it. Dionysus took a deep breath, exhaling and hoping to see just a bit of winter air. But alas, the bright lights made the stage much warmer than being able to see one's breath.
"Much like any of us in this business," Dionysus began, "we start our crazy lives in this business with watching wrestling. With friends. Family. Loved ones. Then we start to think, 'hey, maybe I can do that. Maybe that will be me one day.' And as I'm looking out at all of you, and those of you that will watch this in future years...I want to tell you. It is okay to dream." The crowd applauded cheerfully at his opening remarks. "Just don't take my spot on the card, and we'll be okay," he continued, getting the crowd behind him again.
"My father was a professional wrestler. Hector 'The Fixer' Berget. That's probably not a name anyone here would recognize, but it is an important name for me. This was the man who gave me the drive and passion to be standing here today, receiving the highest honor imaginable. To be immortalized...in the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame." Dionysus turned to the screen behind him, raising a hand to gesture at a picture of his father posing for a trading card. "He was a great coach who spent countless hours with many different talents helping to hone their craft. And I hope, as you can see from my father's image...I definitely got the looks from my mother." Another round of laughter. This is going well, he thought to himself, smiling as he looked down at his cards. "And today, I have taken that passion and turned it to a new generation of Bergets. My daughters," he paused, gesturing toward the three sisters as they stood, waving politely at the smattering of clapping and applause, "you know them as The Sisters of Fate. And I don't need to tell you...they're pretty darn good. Isn't that right, Trios Champions?" Dionysus boasted, his smiling even wider as his daughters basked in their own moment of glory. "I helped coach them, but it is their talent and passion that made them a success. I couldn't be more proud of everything they have done." The audience let out an "aww" as his daughters began to tear up and applaud.
He returned to his note cards, flipping one over, then absentmindedly flinging it toward the side of the stage. Adjusting the microphone again, he continued, "Now normally an inductee would give some long-winded speech about all their accomplishments; their titles, their rivarlies, their successes and failures, and how all of that led them right here. Lucky for you, we live in an age where you can look up any matches I have had and see the things that I have done. Multiple title reigns, tournament victories, hell, I even wrestled a bear once. If you know, you know," he pointed to the crowd accusingly. Dionysus then waved his hand dismissively, "Oh don't worry, the bear was fine. ...I think," he paused again for more laughter. "So I'm not going to bore you all with the ramblings of an old man saying the things I did back in my day. Because as I'm standing up here, I see a lot of wrestlers out there. Veterans, up-and-comers, you name it. And it wouldn't look good as the head of the Coliseum Wrestling Academy if I didn't give at least one lecture up here. That's right, everyone; you didn't even know it, but you're getting a free lecture from me!" he exclaimed, hearing cheers of "here here!" throughout the crowd.
"Now then," Dionysus started, rolling into his lecture voice. "Quia Possum Luctari. The core tenant of the academy. Can anyone tell me what that means?" Not one second later, he heard 'I wrestle because I can!' Dionysus pointed in the direction of the response, saying, "That's exactly what-well, technically it is 'I FIGHT because I can,' but the meaning is still the same. We could be using the skills we learn in this industry and, in many cases, apply them in different ways. However, we choose to hone our skills and use the opportunity to sports entertain. That is the role we have decided for ourselves in this life. Like a Broadway show, we audition for the role we would like to portray. The starring role. The villain. The plucky hero. The upstart. Face, heel, good, bad, these are all roles that we are given and expected to know how to play them. Many of us can do this well. Others...well, others don't end up at these functions. They wash out, disappointed that their home videos of cutting a scathing promo in their bathroom was not as good as they thought it was. And you can either learn to hone your craft, to improve and develop at your own pace...or you can try to meteor your way to the top, end up being disappointed when someone obviously better than you takes their rightful place, and leaves you with nothing."
Dionysus paused, knowing the crowd was trying to watch him flip note cards. "What, you think I'm giving a speech off of these?" he held one up, revealing...that the notecard was blank! He grabbed the stack of blank note cards and flung them all around the podium, saying "These words come from the heart; I don't need a flowery speech to give you all advice. There are two different ways any one of us can fight. You can fight for blood. Or you can fight for gold. Fighting for blood is foolish, for then you are fighting for the sake of a fight. There is no loyalty, no honor, in fighting like that. But if you fight for gold, you fight for a purpose. That purpose could be for blood...literal blood, I mean. Like revenge. But it could also be for literal gold, like a title. Or perhaps it is to prove something to others, or to yourself. The point I'm rambling on to make is...wrestle with a purpose. Don't make the mistake I did and coast from company to company, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Your moment is there. Grab it."
Dionysus allowed for the applause to continue for a minute as he recomposed himself. "Once again, I would like to say how appreciative I am of being awarded with this honor. There are a number of people I would like to thank. First, to some of my oldest friends; Torture, for never giving up on me when I felt so close to leaving it all behind. To Daniel Fehl, for being one of the best partners I have ever had and for being a great friend. To Spencer Adams, for always daring me to push my limits. To Lissie Hope, because if I don't include her name in here somehow, she'll probably kick my teeth in between episodes of The Challenge. To my students at the Coliseum, including Whale Helmet, Impact, Salem Croft, and many others, for allowing me into your lives and help cutlivate your skills. To the many fans through the grapevine, who cheered through good times and bad. To my beautiful daughters," he paused, once again gesturing to the trio, "for putting up with a pain in the ass like me all these years. To my stepfather, Benjamin, both as a business partner and as the man who raised me, for teaching me everything I needed to know growing up. To my mother, Josephine, for her unconditional love and fierce devotion to my trade. And finally...to my father...Hector "The Fixer" Berget..."
Dionysus paused, and as he scanned the crowd once more, he saw...a familiar face. The hair a mess. The mustache thin and grey. The nose...still bulbous. The man looked timid, but also gave Dionysus a knowing look. A fierce smile crossed Dionysus' face, tears welling up in his eyes. "...Wherever he may be...that he is still watching over me, our family...and knowing that we have so much to share with him when he finally comes home." Dionysus turned to face the old man directly, mouthing "I love you" in his direction. A moment passed, and the old man mouthed back, "Proud of you, son."
The silence was deafening, Dionysus realized. He coughed politely, saying, "As this is the last time you will see me here, let me leave you with one final piece of advice." He unfolded the aged document, having written it so many years ago. "Remember these words: Gloria Familiae. Friends and enemies will come and go, but your family will always be there for you, even if they are not actually there to help you. There is your blood family, and the family you choose for yourself. These are people who you can rely on to be in your corner when you need them most. Cherish them. And cherish every moment you have with them. After all..."
"...family is the most important thing in the world. Gloria...Familiae," Dionysus finished, looking back up at the shrine under the maple tree. He folded the paper back up, and placed it back in his coat pocket. He let out a long sigh, watching his breath once again catch on the wind. The temperature was beginning to drop around the lake. How long had he been out here? Certainly not the full hour yet. He checked his watch. 4:57 PM. His car would be returning shortly. Dionysus stood, brushing the snow off of his head and shoulders, and wiping down his pants as best he could. Alas, the water had soaked into his jeans. It would be a damp ride home for the Lord of the Vine.
He kneeled once more next to the shrine, placing a kiss at the top of the structure. "Goodbye dad," Dionysus said. "I hope my words reach you...wherever you are." He placed a hand on the top of the shrine, then, careful to not put any strain on the shrine, he rose to his feet to venture back toward the main road. As he made it halfway across the clearing, he could see his car pulling into view. Dionysus picked up the pace as he saw Henry walk around to the rear passenger door, getting it open for him. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel or blanket in your trunk do you?" Dionysus shouted, "I'm afraid I fell in some snow and I'm feeling quite damp at the moment."
Without any response, Henry moved to the trunk, opened it with a flourish, and retrieved two thin blankets. "These'll have to do," Henry replied, "some unlucky customer left them in my car when they did holiday light tours." Dionysus thanked Henry through deep breaths, taking both blankets and lining the back seat with each one. The warmth of the car was a welcome respite; while he was used to the cold and even tolerated it, an hour was enough for Dionysus. "Want me to take you home?"
"Please, thank you," Dionysus replied, removing his jacket and setting it to the seat next to him. The snowfall had broken, and the sun cracked through the clouds. Dionysus admired the shimmering lights bouncing off the frozen surface of the lake. "This area is quite striking, is it not?"
"I got a place I rent in Lake City. Love it out here," Henry remarked. It seemed his lunch was quite nice, though Dionysus was unsure if his rosy cheeks were due to the cold or due to the drink. Still, he seemed okay to drive.
The car pulled away from Appleby Pool as they began their trek back north to Minneapolis, and to the home of Dionysus. They drove in silence for a while, Dionysus absorbed in his own thoughts, while Henry maintained his professional focus on the road. About twenty minutes went by when Dionysus asked, "Henry...do you have any family?"
Henry looked at Dionysus in the rearview mirror. "Sure, I do," he said matter-of-factly, "got a wife and two kids, a brother who keeps asking me for money, and a dad who never thinks I do good enough. I work, I provide for my family, isn't that enough?"
Dionysus had not expected him to vent the way he was. He remembered, however, the conversation he had with his father as a child. He was here to help fix people. Maybe it was time he helped his new friend Henry. "That sounds hard," Dionysus commented.
"Yeah..." Henry trailed off. "But its family, y'know? I still love'em, even if they drive me crazy."
"Perhaps they drove you to drive," Dionysus pointed out.
Henry chuckled, saying, "Man if that ain't the truth. But y'know, I don't know what I'd do if any of them were gone. Since my mother died last year, it's been getting harder for my dad to do anything on his own. I offered to take him in, but he's too stubborn. Doesn't want the help."
Dionysus nodded, understanding of Henry's predicament. "He's grieving. Even after all this time, your father wants someone he holds dear back in his life. I can understand that." He reached a hand over the car seat and placed it gently on Henry's shoulder. "The best thing you can do for him, as his son, is be there with him to help him process his grief. He'll know the right thing to do when he's ready."
Henry gave Dionysus a friendly smile. "You know, we just met today and you didn't have to say anything. I appreciate the tip. I'll give it a try." He turned his attention back to the road. "Y'know, you're really good with this kind of stuff. How do you manage it?"
Dionysus leaned back in his seat, staring out the window, watching each individual snowflake dance in the breeze.
"Because it is what I would have done...if I had the chance."
Dionysus turned his head, facing forward, to look out the front of the car, and in particular, the driver. He was a portly man, presumably in his early 50s, the remaining hair on his head changing from a rich black to a stately grey. He wore a plain black suit and tie, though with the chill in the air, he also donned a peacoat, his gloves sitting in the passenger seat next to him, if Dionysus had to guess. They had a brief conversation before making the journey, as the location was not particularly well-known, and since then, the vehicle was silent, all but the orchestra of the road entertaining the ear.
That is, until the driver saw Dionysus looking at him. “Something wrong?” he inquired, not taking his eyes of the road. “Are we still heading in the right direction?”
Dionysus snapped out of his long stare and took another glance outside. He marveled at the sight of the Minnesota bluffs in the winter, and perhaps took a moment too long to respond back to the driver. Dionysus heard the driver repeat the question, and he sheepishly replied, “Ah, yes, sorry. We are heading in the right direction. Take the next right, and there will be a spot to pull over about a half a mile down the road.”
“Yes sir,” the driver confirmed, leaning closer to the wheel to see the road signs better.
“I don’t believe I caught your name. Apologies,” Dionysus added, looking to break the silence more.
“Henry,” he replied gruffly, his attention predominantly on reaching their destination.
Dionysus shrugged, allowing a chuckle to escape his lips, as he took a long drink from his glass. He set the now empty glass in the compartment next to him, and watched as the vehicle started to turn down a familiar road. A minute passed and at long last, they had arrived, pulling into the turnoff spot. “Here it is, sir: Appleby Pool,” Henry announced. He looked back at Dionysus, a look of both confusion and concern crossing the stranger’s face. “You sure, uhh…you sure you want me to leave you here? I can stay if-”
Dionysus nodded, digging in his pockets for his wallet. “Yes, for about an hour or so. I know-it is an odd-*grunt* request,” He said, struggling to pull his wallet out, “But I would prefer to be alone for a while.” As he looked for crisp bills, he looked back up at Henry, noting his concern. Dionysus smiled, reassuring, “Oh I’ll be fine, Henry. What I mean to say is…it will be boring for you if you wait here for an hour. So go get lunch, on me,” he paused, handing Henry two twenty dollar bills. “Think of it as an extra tip.” Henry relaxed, reaching for the money, then stopping short. “I’m sure you cannot accept extra tips, but I won’t say anything if you won’t,” Dionysus devilishly implied. That seemed enough motivation for Henry to grab the twenties from his hand. With that done, Dionysus opened the car door and set one foot outside. “Plainview is not too far from here, if you would prefer somewhere close to eat. Enjoy your time off. One hour,” Dionysus concluded as he stepped out of the vehicle, bundling his coat tighter to his body. With a wave of his hand, Dionysus saw the vehicle drive off, heading southbound.
It was only Dionysus and the elements now.
He took in a deep breath of cold winter air, savoring how clean it smelled, compared to where he lived in the city. As he exhaled, he watched his breath float away, mingling with the falling snow. He adjusted the collar of his jacket and began to trudge through the snow, walking along the edge of the lake. As he did, he looked out across the icy sheen of the water’s surface; it was smooth, completely undisturbed from what he could see. In a few weeks, maybe even days, this lake would be home to a handful of ice fishing structures.
But not this day. This day was for Dionysus. As he continued to hike to his destination, a memory flashed into his mind…
Dion, as he preferred to be called as a child, stared at the static of the television set in front of him. It was late, much later than his mother would normally let him stay up. His red curly hair was trimmed for school pictures the next day, but was as messy as ever. His socks hang loosely from his feet as his much-too-tight-for-his-size pajamas clinged to his body. His feet dangled at the edge of the couch as another man was smacking the side of the television, then smacked the VCR, before returning to the TV for one final whack. The static cleared, bringing an image of a wrestling match already in progress. The man then stood up, groaning and stretching his back as he did so. Dressed in a white beater and shorts, the older man took a seat next to Dion, his eyes focused on the screen. “You see that, Dion?” he asked the child with pride. “That’s your dear ol’ dad in his first wrestling match.”
Dion looked up at his father, his eyes filled with wonder and admiration. His hair was slicked back, his mustache full and luxurious, perfectly accenting his somewhat bulbous nose. That part was not a fault of genetics, though; he had injured his face earlier in the day, and decided not to bother with putting an ice pack to reduce the swelling. Dion giggled, sliding up next to his father saying excitedly, “That’s YOU?!”
His father, Hector, laughed loudly. “Sure is, kiddo. I don’t look like that anymore, not since I-uhh…got hurt, but-”
A loud thud, combined with an announcer saying “OH MY” and a roar of cheers from the crowd, came out of the television. Dion squealed with excitement as he watched Hector on screen delivering a body slam to a much larger opponent. Hector wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, as he looked on with anticipation. Dion heard footsteps from the next room and turned to look. His mother was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, looking tired but smiling warmly. “Now you know that you’re up past your bedtime, young man. You have school tomorrow,” she informed, though any harshness was tempered out of her voice.
“Aww mom, just five more minutes?”
“Aww Josephine, just five more minutes?”
Like father, like son, both of the important men in her life just spoke simultaneously. She couldn’t help but giggle, then sigh with content, saying “Okay, five more minutes. But I also have school tomorrow, so Hector, would you mind turning down the TV?”
“Anything for you, sweetie pie,” Hector teased, waggling his eyebrows and winking at his bride.
“EEEEEEW!!” Dion yelled, sticking his tongue out. “Blech!”
The laughter the family shared that evening was one of warmth, of a love and bond that could never be broken. Dion hopped off the couch, giving Josephine a hug goodnight. She knelt down next to her son, giving him a bigger hug and a kiss on top of his head. Then, gently ruffling Dion’s hair, she turned back into the bedroom, gingerly closing the door behind her. Dion ran back to the couch, and at the last minute deciding to sit on the ground, in front of Hector’s legs. “Hey, look look! Here comes the finish!” Hector whispered, pointing to the screen as his younger self perform a ripcord clothesline.
“WHAT A MANEUVER!” Shouted the announcer as Hector drops down for the pin, and after three, winning the match. Both Hector and Dion cheered quietly, and Hector watched as his son crawled closer to the screen, watching as his hand was being held up in victory. Dion turned to look at his father, his eyes bright and filled with determination. “Dad, can I be like you when I grow up?”
Hector laughed with delight while he pointed at Dion. “You, little guy, want to be a wrestler?” he joked.
Dion pretended to get angry. “I’m not gonna be so little, and when I get big and strong, I’m gonna be the best wrestler ever! I’ll be a good guy and help everyone!” he exclaimed.
“Shhh,” Hector responded, attempting to quiet his son down. “Okay, okay, I believe you,” he said with warmth, holding his arms out. Dion stood up from the floor and ran to his father’s arms, sharing an embrace. “If you want to be a wrestler, then you’re going to be one, son. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.” He held his son tight, his pride welling up inside. Hector could even feel tears starting to form, but he blinked them away.
Dion looked up at his father. “You really mean it? I don’t want to do it if you won’t be there,” he pouted.
Hector laughed again, saying “I do, kiddo. Don’t you believe me?”
Dion, with all the defiance in his heart, held his small pinky in front of his father. “Pinky swears it?”
Hector looked at the pinky with confusion, then shrugged, wrapping his pinky around his son’s. “I promise you, Dion. I will help you make your dream come true. I will always be there for you, even when you can’t see me. I’ll always cheer you on, and always do what I can to help you. No matter what.”
Dion smiled. “Good, because I’m gonna be someone who helps fix people, so I’m gonna be The Fixer!”
Hector laughed again, pretending to argue, “Hey, that’s my name! You can’t be…”
Dionysus blinked rapidly, shaking himself out of his daydream. It seemed like only yesterday that he made that promise with his father. And yet, all these years later…Hector was nowhere to be found. His search had given him many leads, but nothing bore fruit. He was truly gone, either having passed away without anyone knowing, or working diligently to ensure no one ever found him. The only place where he knew he could find him…or rather, his spirit…was ahead.
His hike led him to a small grove nestled at the foot of the bluffs. A creek ran southward toward the lake, and next to it a large maple tree stood, naked in the winter air. Dionysus had been the one to plant it, along with his mother, so he knew what kind of tree it was even without the obvious identifier of the leaves. He had crafted a small bench to sit at, as well as a shrine near the base of the tree. Seeing that the shrine had filled with snow, Dionysus fell to his knees and began to clear it out. What would normally be a tedious task for some, he saw as being meditative; a chance for him to clear his mind and be in the presence of his surroundings. As he brushed snow and leaf aside, the shrine opened up more. Despite the name, the shrine itself was bare, aside from a stone set in the very back that read, “Animo,” the latin word for courage. Dionysus grinned, admiring his most recent addition, and relieved that it was still here.
Dionysus wiped his gloves clean as best he could of the snow and debris he cleared out, then he stood, choosing instead to take a seat on the bench after wiping it down. It was cold, and the dampness left by the snow seeped into Dionysus’s pants, but he paid it no mind. Now he had made it to his father’s place. Not his resting place, but the place he knew his father had spent most of his time growing up. Dionysus took a deep breath, saying “Hey dad…I wonder what you are up to…wherever you are.” He looked around sheepishly; he knew how awkward it was to be speaking aloud in the open, and despite his knowing that no one was there, Dionysus checked to be safe. “I just thought of that time you were showing me one of your old tapes…and the promise you made to me all those years ago. Well, here I am. Lord of the Vine. Master of Revels.” he paused, chuckling before adding “Best Ass in the Business. …Long story on that one, dad.”
He felt his head bob instinctively, the chill beginning to cut through his coat. He let out a shiver before continuing. “But yeah…your darling boy is a wrestler…just like you wanted,” he stuttured, feeling his emotions well up inside him. He started tapping his heel, first slowly, then much more rapid. It was a fidget he had mentioned to no one before, as Dionysus was embarrassed by it. “I just wish you could have seen the things I have done…the things I am about to do…and also the things I will do in the future. But…no one knows where you are.” He started to focus on his heel tapping, which bothered him greatly. He slammed his fist against the bench, shaking off some snow that had stuck to the bottom. The brief pain he felt in his hand calmed his nerves. “I don’t get why I can’t move on from you, you know that? Mom did. She remarried. Not that you would know. She married Benjamin, the man who raised me like the father you should have been,” he nearly shouted as his voice cracked. His face was flush and wet, though whether it was from the snow or his own tears, he was unsure. Dionysus did the best he could to wipe his face clean, clenching his now soaking hands in his lap. “I…there are days where I want to hate you. For leaving us without a word. For not telling us anything for years. For breaking your word to everyone you know and love in our lives…” he trailed off, gripping his hands tightly together. “...But I still can’t do it, dad. I love you too much. You gave me the inspiration to be the man I am today. I owe a lot of what I have done to your early guidance…but I also left you behind. I’m now doing all these things for my sake, not yours,” he finished, with confidence.
There was a brief moment where he felt hands press against his shoulders. As Dionysus turned to look, as he saw before, no one was present. Maybe his father’s spirit had heard him…wherever he was. But no, that was a childish fantasy, one that would never be resolved. Dionysus took off one of his gloves and, after unzipping his jacket part of the way, started digging around in his inner coat pockets. “I, uhh…I wrote down a little speech for you. Its stupid, I know, but I figured I will end up in a hall of fame at some point, so you might as well hear what I have to say now, before I get up on a stage and make an ass out of myself,” he mocked, drawing out a folded packet of paper. Dionysus coughed as he unfolded the paper, making sure he had the right page in front of him. He took a deep breath, then paused, snapping his fingers in his free hand. “I suppose I should do an introduction…but that would be kind of pointless, given what we’re doing here, dad...”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the latest inductee into the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame; The Lord of the Vine, Dionysus Berget!”
The audience clapped and cheered respectfully in this moment, the sold out ampitheater honoring the careers of many hall of fame inductees on this night. Dionysus sat, now in his late 50s, his hair now a wild red and silver with age. By some sheer force of will, or perhaps pure luck, his iconic deep blue suit still fit him...aged as it looked. He carried around a walking stick with the symbol of the thyrsus embedded into a ruby gem at the grip. At the sound of his name, Dionysus stood, albeit slowly; age was catching up to him, after all. His daughter, Cloe, helped him out of the chair, standing along with her other sisters, Leslie and Angela, as they cheered for their adopted father. He took the steps slowly, a sour expression on his face. The cheering and clapping died down as he creeped toward the podium. Then, just a few feet from the dais, he stopped...
He fell...
...
...
...And he rolled, standing upright on the other side of the podium, arms outstretched.
The crowd laughed and cheered at the same time as Dionysus waved to the audience, taking his proper place at the podium. A hall of fame ring sat in an open ring box on one side, a plaque with his name engraved on it on the other. Dionysus withdrew the note cards he had written his speech on, as well as an aged, folded document. He tapped the note cards gently, then adjusted the microphone so that he would have no need to lean over so much. "You know, they wanted to cast me as Wonka for the Willy Wonka remake," he began, getting the crowd laughing again.
Dionysus took the moment to look out into the crowd; many faces, old and new, looking up at a man with a storied history in the business. He had finally arrived. He reached the goal his father had instilled in him. If only he were here now to see it. Dionysus took a deep breath, exhaling and hoping to see just a bit of winter air. But alas, the bright lights made the stage much warmer than being able to see one's breath.
"Much like any of us in this business," Dionysus began, "we start our crazy lives in this business with watching wrestling. With friends. Family. Loved ones. Then we start to think, 'hey, maybe I can do that. Maybe that will be me one day.' And as I'm looking out at all of you, and those of you that will watch this in future years...I want to tell you. It is okay to dream." The crowd applauded cheerfully at his opening remarks. "Just don't take my spot on the card, and we'll be okay," he continued, getting the crowd behind him again.
"My father was a professional wrestler. Hector 'The Fixer' Berget. That's probably not a name anyone here would recognize, but it is an important name for me. This was the man who gave me the drive and passion to be standing here today, receiving the highest honor imaginable. To be immortalized...in the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame." Dionysus turned to the screen behind him, raising a hand to gesture at a picture of his father posing for a trading card. "He was a great coach who spent countless hours with many different talents helping to hone their craft. And I hope, as you can see from my father's image...I definitely got the looks from my mother." Another round of laughter. This is going well, he thought to himself, smiling as he looked down at his cards. "And today, I have taken that passion and turned it to a new generation of Bergets. My daughters," he paused, gesturing toward the three sisters as they stood, waving politely at the smattering of clapping and applause, "you know them as The Sisters of Fate. And I don't need to tell you...they're pretty darn good. Isn't that right, Trios Champions?" Dionysus boasted, his smiling even wider as his daughters basked in their own moment of glory. "I helped coach them, but it is their talent and passion that made them a success. I couldn't be more proud of everything they have done." The audience let out an "aww" as his daughters began to tear up and applaud.
He returned to his note cards, flipping one over, then absentmindedly flinging it toward the side of the stage. Adjusting the microphone again, he continued, "Now normally an inductee would give some long-winded speech about all their accomplishments; their titles, their rivarlies, their successes and failures, and how all of that led them right here. Lucky for you, we live in an age where you can look up any matches I have had and see the things that I have done. Multiple title reigns, tournament victories, hell, I even wrestled a bear once. If you know, you know," he pointed to the crowd accusingly. Dionysus then waved his hand dismissively, "Oh don't worry, the bear was fine. ...I think," he paused again for more laughter. "So I'm not going to bore you all with the ramblings of an old man saying the things I did back in my day. Because as I'm standing up here, I see a lot of wrestlers out there. Veterans, up-and-comers, you name it. And it wouldn't look good as the head of the Coliseum Wrestling Academy if I didn't give at least one lecture up here. That's right, everyone; you didn't even know it, but you're getting a free lecture from me!" he exclaimed, hearing cheers of "here here!" throughout the crowd.
"Now then," Dionysus started, rolling into his lecture voice. "Quia Possum Luctari. The core tenant of the academy. Can anyone tell me what that means?" Not one second later, he heard 'I wrestle because I can!' Dionysus pointed in the direction of the response, saying, "That's exactly what-well, technically it is 'I FIGHT because I can,' but the meaning is still the same. We could be using the skills we learn in this industry and, in many cases, apply them in different ways. However, we choose to hone our skills and use the opportunity to sports entertain. That is the role we have decided for ourselves in this life. Like a Broadway show, we audition for the role we would like to portray. The starring role. The villain. The plucky hero. The upstart. Face, heel, good, bad, these are all roles that we are given and expected to know how to play them. Many of us can do this well. Others...well, others don't end up at these functions. They wash out, disappointed that their home videos of cutting a scathing promo in their bathroom was not as good as they thought it was. And you can either learn to hone your craft, to improve and develop at your own pace...or you can try to meteor your way to the top, end up being disappointed when someone obviously better than you takes their rightful place, and leaves you with nothing."
Dionysus paused, knowing the crowd was trying to watch him flip note cards. "What, you think I'm giving a speech off of these?" he held one up, revealing...that the notecard was blank! He grabbed the stack of blank note cards and flung them all around the podium, saying "These words come from the heart; I don't need a flowery speech to give you all advice. There are two different ways any one of us can fight. You can fight for blood. Or you can fight for gold. Fighting for blood is foolish, for then you are fighting for the sake of a fight. There is no loyalty, no honor, in fighting like that. But if you fight for gold, you fight for a purpose. That purpose could be for blood...literal blood, I mean. Like revenge. But it could also be for literal gold, like a title. Or perhaps it is to prove something to others, or to yourself. The point I'm rambling on to make is...wrestle with a purpose. Don't make the mistake I did and coast from company to company, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Your moment is there. Grab it."
Dionysus allowed for the applause to continue for a minute as he recomposed himself. "Once again, I would like to say how appreciative I am of being awarded with this honor. There are a number of people I would like to thank. First, to some of my oldest friends; Torture, for never giving up on me when I felt so close to leaving it all behind. To Daniel Fehl, for being one of the best partners I have ever had and for being a great friend. To Spencer Adams, for always daring me to push my limits. To Lissie Hope, because if I don't include her name in here somehow, she'll probably kick my teeth in between episodes of The Challenge. To my students at the Coliseum, including Whale Helmet, Impact, Salem Croft, and many others, for allowing me into your lives and help cutlivate your skills. To the many fans through the grapevine, who cheered through good times and bad. To my beautiful daughters," he paused, once again gesturing to the trio, "for putting up with a pain in the ass like me all these years. To my stepfather, Benjamin, both as a business partner and as the man who raised me, for teaching me everything I needed to know growing up. To my mother, Josephine, for her unconditional love and fierce devotion to my trade. And finally...to my father...Hector "The Fixer" Berget..."
Dionysus paused, and as he scanned the crowd once more, he saw...a familiar face. The hair a mess. The mustache thin and grey. The nose...still bulbous. The man looked timid, but also gave Dionysus a knowing look. A fierce smile crossed Dionysus' face, tears welling up in his eyes. "...Wherever he may be...that he is still watching over me, our family...and knowing that we have so much to share with him when he finally comes home." Dionysus turned to face the old man directly, mouthing "I love you" in his direction. A moment passed, and the old man mouthed back, "Proud of you, son."
The silence was deafening, Dionysus realized. He coughed politely, saying, "As this is the last time you will see me here, let me leave you with one final piece of advice." He unfolded the aged document, having written it so many years ago. "Remember these words: Gloria Familiae. Friends and enemies will come and go, but your family will always be there for you, even if they are not actually there to help you. There is your blood family, and the family you choose for yourself. These are people who you can rely on to be in your corner when you need them most. Cherish them. And cherish every moment you have with them. After all..."
"...family is the most important thing in the world. Gloria...Familiae," Dionysus finished, looking back up at the shrine under the maple tree. He folded the paper back up, and placed it back in his coat pocket. He let out a long sigh, watching his breath once again catch on the wind. The temperature was beginning to drop around the lake. How long had he been out here? Certainly not the full hour yet. He checked his watch. 4:57 PM. His car would be returning shortly. Dionysus stood, brushing the snow off of his head and shoulders, and wiping down his pants as best he could. Alas, the water had soaked into his jeans. It would be a damp ride home for the Lord of the Vine.
He kneeled once more next to the shrine, placing a kiss at the top of the structure. "Goodbye dad," Dionysus said. "I hope my words reach you...wherever you are." He placed a hand on the top of the shrine, then, careful to not put any strain on the shrine, he rose to his feet to venture back toward the main road. As he made it halfway across the clearing, he could see his car pulling into view. Dionysus picked up the pace as he saw Henry walk around to the rear passenger door, getting it open for him. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel or blanket in your trunk do you?" Dionysus shouted, "I'm afraid I fell in some snow and I'm feeling quite damp at the moment."
Without any response, Henry moved to the trunk, opened it with a flourish, and retrieved two thin blankets. "These'll have to do," Henry replied, "some unlucky customer left them in my car when they did holiday light tours." Dionysus thanked Henry through deep breaths, taking both blankets and lining the back seat with each one. The warmth of the car was a welcome respite; while he was used to the cold and even tolerated it, an hour was enough for Dionysus. "Want me to take you home?"
"Please, thank you," Dionysus replied, removing his jacket and setting it to the seat next to him. The snowfall had broken, and the sun cracked through the clouds. Dionysus admired the shimmering lights bouncing off the frozen surface of the lake. "This area is quite striking, is it not?"
"I got a place I rent in Lake City. Love it out here," Henry remarked. It seemed his lunch was quite nice, though Dionysus was unsure if his rosy cheeks were due to the cold or due to the drink. Still, he seemed okay to drive.
The car pulled away from Appleby Pool as they began their trek back north to Minneapolis, and to the home of Dionysus. They drove in silence for a while, Dionysus absorbed in his own thoughts, while Henry maintained his professional focus on the road. About twenty minutes went by when Dionysus asked, "Henry...do you have any family?"
Henry looked at Dionysus in the rearview mirror. "Sure, I do," he said matter-of-factly, "got a wife and two kids, a brother who keeps asking me for money, and a dad who never thinks I do good enough. I work, I provide for my family, isn't that enough?"
Dionysus had not expected him to vent the way he was. He remembered, however, the conversation he had with his father as a child. He was here to help fix people. Maybe it was time he helped his new friend Henry. "That sounds hard," Dionysus commented.
"Yeah..." Henry trailed off. "But its family, y'know? I still love'em, even if they drive me crazy."
"Perhaps they drove you to drive," Dionysus pointed out.
Henry chuckled, saying, "Man if that ain't the truth. But y'know, I don't know what I'd do if any of them were gone. Since my mother died last year, it's been getting harder for my dad to do anything on his own. I offered to take him in, but he's too stubborn. Doesn't want the help."
Dionysus nodded, understanding of Henry's predicament. "He's grieving. Even after all this time, your father wants someone he holds dear back in his life. I can understand that." He reached a hand over the car seat and placed it gently on Henry's shoulder. "The best thing you can do for him, as his son, is be there with him to help him process his grief. He'll know the right thing to do when he's ready."
Henry gave Dionysus a friendly smile. "You know, we just met today and you didn't have to say anything. I appreciate the tip. I'll give it a try." He turned his attention back to the road. "Y'know, you're really good with this kind of stuff. How do you manage it?"
Dionysus leaned back in his seat, staring out the window, watching each individual snowflake dance in the breeze.
"Because it is what I would have done...if I had the chance."