Escape Points by Michele Weldon

Author:Michele Weldon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicago Review Press
Published: 2015-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

14

Gesture

* * *

February 16–17, 2007

I pulled to the curb outside Dorothea’s apartment at 6 in the morning on Friday. It was still dark and bitterly cold, four below zero, the kind of dagger-sharp chill that hurt your nostrils when you breathed and made you feel as if your clothes were made of cellophane. Snowflakes fell like promises. Brendan and Colin were stretched in the middle and third seats, each with a pillow and blanket, ready to doze on the 126-mile drive to see their older brother compete in the individual state finals. I’d called the younger two boys out of school the night before; Weldon had gone with the team on the bus Thursday night.

It was Weldon’s second year at the IHSA Individual State Wrestling Tournament, but as a senior, this was his last chance to make it to the finals stand, the winner’s boxes. Dorothea’s son, Dan, was wrestling as a sophomore at 145 pounds, one weight class above Weldon’s.

I’d gotten up by 5 AM, making sure I had everyone’s overnight bags by the door. I packed sandwiches, fruit, snacks, soda, water, and Gatorade for the day. The year before when Weldon competed at state, I’d learned that pretty much all the concession stands inside the arena offered was fried, refried, batter dipped, cheese or chocolate-smothered, and prohibitively expensive. Enormous scoops of ice cream in waffle cones, four-dollar fountain drinks, huge wedges of pie with fistfuls of vanilla ice cream on top, soft pretzels the size of catchers’ mitts. You could spend twenty dollars on lunch, easy. I also knew we would have to hide the food we brought from home in our coat pockets, as you were not allowed to take any coolers or food into the arena. They checked purses and bags. Dorothea ended up stowing some oranges in her sweater. We figured no one was going to frisk her.

We had a large entourage of parents from Oak Park and River Forest High School that year—nine wrestlers plus Coach Powell and all the varsity, freshmen, junior varsity, and youth wrestling coaches too. The youth coach took a group of Little Huskies in a van to watch. Every one of the boys on our team, and every team from across the state, Class A and Class AA (this was two years before Class AAA was added), were aiming for first place ideally, but a medal for second, third, or fourth would be great. Other members of the Huskies team had painted a sign for the Oak Park High School student center with the names of state-bound wrestlers and their weights alongside an outline of the state of Illinois. “Good luck at State!” it read in the center. Painted in blue were the names and records of the eight Huskies wrestlers headed to state—a huge number from the roster.

I booked a room at the local Ramada. We would drive back Saturday night, no matter how late. I was hoping it would be late and that Weldon would be the champion; there was chatter at the high school that he could win it all.

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