“Good then,” he finally offered and opened the front door, leaving it open behind us.
“Don’t you want to lock it?” Salinger called after him.
He moaned something unintelligible and waved Salinger’s comment away. Salinger snorted and closed the door. We practically had to sprint to catch up to him. He meandered through streets, mumbling to himself, and reached a little shop called the Café Du Monde.
“Come on,” he said, waving us on, “I haven’t got all day.”
“You don’t work, Bernie,” Salinger teased him. “You do have all day.”
The old man whipped around, his robe flowing around him as he did so. He raised a finger up at him and frowned the most comical frown. He opened his mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, and dropped his finger.
When Bernie opened the door to the shop, people looked up only to widen their eyes then raised their newspapers or hid behind their coffee cups or found the ceiling very interesting. I wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. He scared me. He amused me, but he scared me a little more.
Bernie bypassed the line, which shocked me, but not a single patron complained or even gave a dirty look. He was expected and he was tolerated, it was apparent.
A young man reached over the countertop and handed Bernie a large bag along with seven coffees to go. Seven? All were wrapped elegantly and ready for transport.
Bernie grabbed the bags, slapped cash down on the countertop, and turned.
“See you tomorrow, Bernie!” the boy shouted after us as we fought to keep up with the old man.
Bernard grunted in reply and, like a tornado, left Café Du Monde behind him.
Salinger glanced at me as we raced down the street back toward Bernard’s house and lifted his shoulders in question. I opened my mouth wide in disbelief and tried not to laugh.
“Taking too long, ya rascals,” he griped.
We picked it up and edged closer to him. He threw the bags in Salinger’s hands and signaled for me to meet his stride, so I did.
“Salinger said you’re pretty good. Is that true?”
“I don’t know,” I answered him.
Bernard stopped abruptly again. “You don’t know?” he asked, finally meeting my eyes for the first time that morning.
“Only enough to know I’ve beaten every software I’ve ever played a-and Salinger,” I explained.
When I said his name, Salinger playfully reacted like I’d punched him in the face. Sorry, I mouthed.
“Hmph,” Bernard said and started forward again.
We walked into his house to find four other old men sitting in the chairs I’d noticed in Bernard’s sitting room.
“It’s about time!” one of the old men shouted, standing up. “What do we have here?” he said when he noticed Salinger and me.
“Carl,” Bernard said, pointing to an African American gentleman with a shock of white hair tucked under a golf cap.
“How’d you do?” he said, tipping his hat.
I smiled at him.
“Gus,” Bernard said, pointing to another little old man. Gus was either a little younger or in better shape than the others. He stood up and shook my and Salinger’s hands. He wore trousers with a button-up and suspenders.
“Abe,” Bernard said as he introduced the third old man. Abe looked of Spanish descent and wore a guayabera shirt along with a pair of linen pants and sandals. He had a glint in his eye that told me he was probably up to no good a lot as a young man.
“Nice to meet you, hija,” he said, taking my hand with a smile.
“This is Ralph,” Bernard said, pointing at the fourth and final gentleman. Ralph was wheelchair-bound and dressed the smartest with a bow tie, jacket, and button-up, and topped off his ensemble with a straw fedora. I didn’t know how he fit in the room, but you could see where they’d carved out a spot for him.
All the men there, you could tell, were comfortable and must have spent most of their days there with grumpy Bernard.
“A pleasure,” Ralph greeted us sweetly.
Salinger and I scaled the newspapers to shake his hand.
“Clean this damn place up already, Bernard,” Carl chimed in, plopping into a chair and surfing through the scant, blurry channels Bernard’s old TV would produce.
“Oh shut up, will you?” Bernard complained.
He gave Salinger a little push and indicated to him that he wanted the bags dropped on the small foyer table in the hall right outside the crowded sitting room. Carl and Abe grabbed some paper plates and opened the bags, doling out beignets and passing them over to Ralph, Gus, and Bernard.
“There you are, hija,” Abe said, offering me a plate.
“Thank you,” I told him.
Carl offered me a chair at the side of the room and I started to sit.
“No! No!” Bernard yelled.
“What?” I asked, frightened.
“Sit here,” he said, pointing to the chair across from him at the chess table.
My heart beat in my throat. “Okay,” I said, sitting down.
“You play?” Carl asked me, sitting nearby.
“Yes, sir.”
“Salinger’s told me she’s the best he’s ever played, including me.”
Bernard raised an eyebrow at Salinger.
“Just wait, old man. You’ll see.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see this,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together.
“Whoa, whoa, that’s a lot of pressure,” I said, feeling a little hot.
“Don’t worry, baby girl. You’re here for fun. Have fun. Don’t over think it,” Gus told me before taking a bite of his beignet.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, let’s go then.”
“You don’t mind if I play white, do you?” Bernard asked.
“Of course not,” I told him.
Bernard spun the board around with ease, like he’d done it thousands of times.
“What is the first move, though,” Gus teased Bernard, “if it’s answered properly?” he finished, winking at me.
I looked to my left, at Salinger. He gave me a small smile and a head nod to encourage me.
“Need him, do you? Lack confidence, do you?” Bernard asked. He avoided eye contact and sat back, cleaning his reading glasses with the edge of his robe.
I swallowed.
“Nice, friendly, casual game, mind you. I just want to see what you’re made of,” he commented.
Nf3 Bernard scooted to the end of his chair. Without hesitation, he moved.
Nf6 That was his favorite move. I could see it in his eyes, in the slight tilt of his mouth.
I took a solid breath, left the room around me, and glanced at the board. I saw my usual grid, my invisible lines, the pure potential. I ran hundreds of tactics instantly through my mind, but pushed them aside. Wait, I thought. I repaid in kind.
c4 He smiled at me and moved his pawn.
g6 I knew this opening. I flipped through my mental catalog and processed all potentials then moved.
Nc3 He expected this. His next move, I expected as well.
Bg7 Bishop, I thought.
d4 Bernard yawned, mumbled about the time of morning, and picked up a pawn.
O-O King’s Indian.
Bf4 Bernard’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing.
Abe and Gus leaned into one another and said something, though I couldn’t hear it.
Bernard countered.
d5 What are you doing, Bernard? Finally, I moved to the center.
Qb3 Bernard took a sip of coffee then moved.
dxc4 He was trying to throw off my pawn structure. I closed my eyes and imagined the board, shifting pieces in my mind and predicting tactic.
Qxc4 I further entrenched my pawn. Bernard moved.
c6 This was what I expected.
e4 I brought out another pawn. As did Bernard.
Nbd7 Bernard thought he owned the center. I could see it in his face. I took a deep breath.
Rd1 Bernard looked at me like I was an idiot.
Nb6 I countered.
Qc5 He leaned back in his chair a little and made his next move.
Bg4 My turn.
Bg5 “A pin is mightier than the sword,” Abe whispered, and the other men chuckled beneath their breath.
We ignored them and I waited for Bernard. He moved.
Na4 His center made vulnerable to me. I moved my knight.
Qa3 Bernard cleared his throat, the first sign he felt slightly uncomfortable. He moved his queen.
Nxc3
bxc3
Nxe4 Instinctively, I scooted farther to the edge of my chair, took a deep breath, and moved my knight.
Bxe7 He didn’t move, didn’t blink. I’d backed him into a slight corner and he was analyzing. Adrenaline raced through my veins. He aimed for his bishop.
Qb6 My fingertip edged my queen. I steadied my nerves and moved her.
Bc4 Some small part of myself recognized the incredible silence in the room, but I shut it out immediately. Bernard took his bishop on a trip once again.
Nxc3 I rested my forefinger on my knight, confirmed the move with myself, and took his pawn.
Bc5 He took his bishop and aimed for my queen.
Rfe8+ I shifted a rook.
Kf1 He moved his king.
Be6 A bishop for me.
Bxb6
Bxc4+ He responded in kind.
Kg1 King.
Ne2+ Knight.
Kf1 King.
Nxd4+ Knight.
Kg1 King.
Ne2+ Knight.
Kf1 King.
Nc3+Knight.
Kg1 King.
axb6
Qb4 Queen.
Ra4 Rook.
Qxb6
Nxd1
h3
Rxa2
Kh2
Nxf2
Re1
Rxe1
Qd8+
Bf8 Bishop.
Nxe1
Bd5 You could hear even the slightest movement. It was deathly quiet.
Nf3
Ne4
Qb8
b5
h4 He moved a pawn. He was grasping at straws. He looked up at me, the first time he’d made eye contact since we’d begun and his face was unreadable.
h5
Ne5
Kg7
Kg1
Bc5+ I placed a bishop. There was a single sharp intake of breath, but I didn’t know from whom it came from.
Kf1 He scrambled his king. He knew he’d lost. He knew, but he respected me enough to finish it out.
Ng3+ My knight.
Ke1 His king.
Bb4+ My bishop.
Kd1 His king.
Bb3+ My bishop.
Kc1 His king.
Ne2+ My knight.
Kb1 His king.
Nc3+ My knight.
Kc1 He moved his king.
Rc2 I placed my rook at his queen.
“Checkmate,” I whispered.
The room came back all at once and I relaxed my muscles, beyond relieved.
I breathed a sigh of relief then glanced around the room, starting with Bernard, and noted each of their faces were blank. I stopped at Salinger. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape.
“I’ve never seen anyone beat Bernard,” Carl said, breaking the silence. “And I’ve known him twenty years.”
“Young lady,” Gus told me, “that was nothing short of brilliant.”
I felt my cheeks burn and looked back at Bernard. Slowly, his mouth started to twitch, then moved into a smile. I jumped when he started to laugh, gut laughed, fell back in his chair and laughed hard.
The other men were unsure of how to react to him but everyone eventually, except for Salinger, began to laugh along with him and when that laughter died down, Bernard sighed, stood, and offered his hand.
“Miss Lily,” he said, his voice slightly shaken.
“Yes, sir?” I answered him and took his hand.
“Very good game, young lady. Very good game.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“WHERE ARE YOU FROM, GIRL?” Bernard asked me over lunch. “Who are your parents?” he asked without giving me an opportunity to answer his first question.
I felt my eyes burn but I kept myself together. “I don’t know who my dad is, but my mom is, or,” I swallowed the lump in my throat, “was, a blue-collar worker in a manufacturing plant in the town over from where I grew up.”
“Oh, is she not working there anymore?” he innocently asked.
I tried to smile at him. “No, sir, she’s passed on.”
Bernard looked sad but fixed his expression. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So sorry,” the other men grumbled, casting pitiful stares my direction.
I started to feel panicky and rubbed my palms on the thighs of my jeans over and over. I felt antsy, like I needed to stand up and leave. Salinger had sat next to me at the table and, just when I was going to stand to bolt, I felt his left hand find my right and his fingers wrapped around the tops of mine. He squeezed them gently.
“Lily needs to find a tournament still to establish her rating,” he told the men, swiftly changing the subject.
I turned toward him. Thank you, I mouthed.
Bernard cleared his throat. “I know the perfect one,” he mumbled, staring at his reading glasses. He found something on them and cleaned them with the edge of the robe he still store.
My heart settled in my chest then remembered that Salinger still held my hand and it picked back up again. I stared down at his fingers, just stared at them. He looked down at our joined hands. I heard him swallow and I looked at him, his Adam’s apple rose and fell with the movement. He lifted his hand from mine and rested it on the tabletop.
None of the men had noticed what was going on, too engrossed in their own conversations, but I was hyperaware. How could I not be? His hand was warm, lean, but strong, and slightly callused from the work we did.
I kept my hands under the table but turned them palms up. I studied them. They weren’t nearly as rough as Salinger’s, but they were starting to look it. I felt a deep burn resonate through my chest. My mom’s hands were callused like that, callused from years and years and years of hard labor. I miss her, I thought. The burn in my chest rose to my eyes and threatened tears. No, I demanded of myself. No. That wasn’t the deal. It’s finish the house, get visitation, get the girls, then mourn Mom, and deal with Trace. Stop.
Salinger found my left hand again, this time palm up, and threaded his fingers through mine.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Where are you, Lily?”
A sharp intake of breath and I turned toward him, inches from his face. “Here,” I lied.
He didn’t answer me, at least not right away. Instead, I watched his eyes search my face, like he was memorizing me from a proximity he’d not experienced. He leaned into my ear again.
“Lie,” he quieted, letting go of my hand, leaving it lonelier than it’d ever felt, and sat upright again.
“What about Austin?” Bernard asked the table, unaware of the personal chaos I wrestled with.
“I thought about that,” Salinger contributed, like he hadn’t just melted me to my seat. “I’m just worried, since it’s her first tournament, that she runs the risk of being overwhelmed.”
“Nonsense,” Bernard commented, flippant. “She’s a natural. She’ll wipe the floor with everyone there.” His hand went to his forehead and scratched through the messy hair at his temple. “Let’s see, who do we know will be there for sure?” he asked no one. He snapped his fingers. “Aurek, I think, is the top player there that weekend.”
Salinger folded his arms across his chest and casually laid back in his chair. “Aurek is phenomenal, but she’d beat him. She’d leave there with at least a twenty-five-hundred rating.”
“At least,” Abe said, taking a drink from his tea.
“Aurek’s a bit of a ball-buster, though,” Carl chimed in.
/> “Not like our girl here,” Gus added with a wink my way.
I smiled at him or tried to. I wasn’t sure it translated.
“That gives us two weeks to prep her for tournament. That’s plenty of time,” Bernard said.
“What does that give us, though?” I asked Salinger.
He looked at me. “I don’t know. This entire weekend, next?” he asked me.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“No,” Bernard interjected. “You’ll need to practice every day here.”
“I can’t do that,” I told him, feeling panicked. “I have to work. I have to… Well, I just have to work every day.”
Bernard waved my comment away. “That’s no good. You need the time, the practice. You’ll take the next two weeks off.”
I looked at Salinger.
“Lily has obligations,” Salinger said, coming to my rescue.
“A girl as young as her? Please, Salinger,” Bernard answered him, not grasping what we really meant.
“Surely you can take a few days off,” Gus added.
“No, sir,” I said quietly. I began to ring my hands. “I, uh, I’m alone and I’ve got some issues with my home and, well, I—” I stuttered out.
“She definitely cannot take time off. I’m sorry, boys,” Salinger chimed in. He turned toward Bernard. “You’ll have to do your best with her this weekend and next.” He looked at me. “Are you okay staying the night out here tonight?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Bernard complained, “but I suppose we’ll have to just work with what little time we have.”
After lunch, we all returned to Bernard’s. All the men, but especially Salinger and Bernard, tried their best to school me on a tournament-style match. I was so overwhelmed with trying to remember procedure, I lost my first game after lunch to Bernard. Then I lost my second. And my third. And my fourth.
“Excuse me,” I told the room and walked out onto Bernard’s little front stoop.
I poured myself down the few steps there and began pacing in front of his home. I felt rather than saw Salinger appear on Bernard’s stoop, so I stopped, my back to him.
“I’ll never get my sisters home, Salinger. I can’t do this. The first win was a fluke. He’s too good.”
I wrapped my hands around my arms and turned around. He had closed the door and had leaned on it, both hands in his pockets.