Two men stared at each other from across a table. Eyes narrowed in concentration, penetrating the other’s glare.
One was black, with an ageless face, yet full of wisdom. He wore plaid pajama pants and a baby blue shirt. House slippers graced his bare feet and lightly tapped the polished, white tile. He pursed his lips, rubbed his balled head, but continued to stare into the other man’s eyes.
The other was white, decades older, yet holding that same ageless quality. He dressed more formal, attired in black pants and a black button up shirt, both neatly ironed. His feet remained still, adorned with recently polished black loafers. His hands rested in his lap, away from the nicely trimmed pepper gray hair.
“Your move, Alex.” The white man said.
Alex gripped his chin and cheek, contemplating the move. Other than a move of e4 and e5, all the other pieces stood guard in their originally assigned spot. Ten minutes had gone by since the last move. However, since Alex had always played the game too quickly, which was why, in his mind, he never won, today, he’d try a different approach.
“Just formulating a strategy here, Father.”
Alex reached for the knight on his left.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Alex? Just call me Donovan.”
Alex stopped inches from the white horse’s head. No—don’t want to do that. Took that approach last time.
“Working on my show of respect and civility. Don’t look too much into it, Donovan.”
Alex finally decided on a move of Bc4. Donovan moved his Knight to f6.
“A new assignment from Dr. Mattheson?” Father Donovan asked.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes. That man is full of them, isn’t he?”
“Don’t look at it as a bad thing. You need something to occupy your time Tuesday to Sunday.”
“Or you could come more than once a week.”
Move—d3.
“I’m sorry, but others require my time as well.”
Move—c6.
“What, terminal patients looking for a miracle, hobos in need of beer money, whores a prayer for a clean conscience?”
A man dressed in blue scrubs walked up and stood behind Alex. “Everything okay?”
“Its fine, Chase. In the middle of something here.”
Chase was a man in his forties. Clean cut, black hair, and looked like he exercised. Other than that, Alex didn’t really have an opinion about him or care to know a single iota more.
“Time for your pills.”
Alex held out his hand, but kept his eyes on the board.
“Sorry about that.” Alex said.
“It’s okay, Alex, just thought I should—
“Not you, Chase.”
Alex grabbed the little white cup, shot the pills down his throat, crumpled it up and plopped it back into Chase’s hand.
“Every Monday.” Chase muttered before turning to leave.
“Not going to work on your homework with him?” Father Donavan said.
Alex sighed.
“SORRY ABOUT THAT CHASE. YOU’RE DOING A FANTASTIC JOB. THANKS FOR ALL YOU DO!”
Chase shook his head but didn’t turn around.
Move—Bg5.
“I think you hurt his feelings.” Father Donovan said.
“Hmm? What’s that, now?”
“Don’t think you’ll be getting an A on your homework assignment when you see Dr. Mattheson today.”
Move—h6.
Alex shrugged. “I’m fairly certain it’s pass/fail. Besides, my problems stem far deeper than my lack of social etiquette.”
Move—Bxf6.
“Has there been any headway in that department?”
Move—Qxf6.
Alex cringed at seeing his bishop taken by the priest’s queen. His thoughts quickly flickered and fired. Focus on the game or answer the question. Both were difficult. The priest always had a knack for distraction. Posing serious questions and intriguing ideas.
Just last week the priest had discussed the ancient Hebrews’ brilliant use of constellation mapping and lunar observation to create their calendar. The part that fascinated Alex the most was that these desert wanderers had figured out they needed to add a thirteenth month every seven years because 360 days didn’t quite add up to a full year. That they saw the stars and moon as a map, not celestial objects to be worshipped. But it was also this kind of information that took Alex’s focus. Kept him from winning.
Damn, he’s doing it again.
Move—Nc3.
Alex rubbed his hands together. “No real progress, if that’s what you mean.”
Move—b5.
“That’s a shame. Was hoping to hear about some progress today. It concerns me that you still don’t fully understand why you’re here.”
Focus. Focus. Resist the trap in taking his pawn. Not worth losing a bishop.
Move—Bb3.
“Don’t sweat it. Mattheson’s a hack. I’m pretty sure he had some extra help getting his doctorate, if you know what I mean.”
Move—a5.
Alex dug into his thigh. It never failed, Donovan always had a quick response. He hadn’t even studied the board while Alex spoke.
“I’m not sure I quite understand.”
Alex sighed. Donovan certainly knew how to keep him talking. Keep him interested in anything but the game. But it was such a good question.
“Well, for starters, the man still clings to Freudian thought.”
Move—a3.
A smile twitched at Father Donovan’s pursed lips.
Move—Bc5.
“That would be rather unnerving.”
“Right, thank you. I’ve tried telling the orderlies that and hell, even the other patients. They don’t get what the problem is. See, this is why you and me click—
Move—Nf3.
“—why you’re the only person I can really talk to in this place.”
Move—d6.
“I’m sure there are others.”
Alex chuckled as he eyed the board. Could take his pawn with my knight. No, he’ll just take it with a pawn. Can’t take anything, yet.
“Do you actually talk with the other patients or just pray over them? Because if you’ve talked to the same insane folks I have, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Move—Qd2. Not too early to move my queen. Just a space.
“Perhaps you haven’t given them a chance.”
Move—Be6.
“Look at Jenny over there. How much paint is on the canvas?”
In the corner of the rec room sat Jenny, a woman probably in her early thirties, but difficult to tell due to the stringy hair, blue sweatpants, gray sweat shirt, and pink socks rocking stitched yellow bunnies. Jenny might have been twenty-five.
An unused paintbrush was lying next to Jenny’s hand. Her fingers, however, flashed a rainbow. She nervously twitched as she smeared green paint across her forehead. Her left cheek already exhibited a lovely shade of red, while the right a deep purple. In spite of the shakes, and obvious effects of stupor induced meds, she wore a genial smile. Next to her, on an easel, stood a blank, white canvas.
“What’s wrong with her?” Father Donovan said.
Alex shrugged. He left his bishop open. Take it.
Move—Bxe6.
“What about him over there? The old guy. He’s reading a book.”
Move—fxe6.
Damn it. I should have caught that.
A small, electrical wave jolted into his frontal lobe. Alex slightly winced and rubbed his forehead. The meds had begun their attack on his neurons. Won’t be worth a damn much longer.
“Look closer at the book.” Alex said.
Father Donovan narrowed his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and leaned a bit closer to try and see what Alex was talking about.
Crazy old Tom sat in the corner opposite of Jenny. As one can imagine, the old man, who sported a neatly trimmed beard, gray with speckles of the black it once was, sat comfortably in a lounge c
hair, holding a worn and faded hardback. A gentleness seeped from his eyes and the crow’s feet around them revealed years of smiles and laughter. In Crazy old Tom’s hands was a copy of Mein Kampf, upside down. The leathery old hands turned a page and immediately began to cackle.
“He probably doesn’t know what he’s reading.” Father Donovan said.
“Sure he does.”
Time to pull out the old switcheroo.
Move—O-O.
“I assume he’s spoken to you, or rather, said some unkind words?”
Move—g5.
I don’t think he even looked at the board that time.
Alex interlocked his fingers and cracked the eight knuckles simultaneously.
“Tom is so out of it he doesn’t even know I’m black. Tried to get me and Darren to partake in some Nazi march the other day. Guy still thinks it’s the forties.”
“He doesn’t look old enough to have participated in the war.”
“You do remember where you are, right?”
Move—h3.
Alex nearly dropped the pawn as he moved it, eyes on Father Donovan the entire time. I hope that came off as smooth.
Move—Nd7.
“What about Gerald? I recall some mention of him a few months back. Guy with some interesting theories.”
Alex sighed as he tried to decipher the new arrangement on the board. He couldn’t figure out what Donovan’s plan in the game or conversation. Gave him a headache. Feels like a ruse.
“What’s with the sudden need for me to find a buddy? You plan on leaving me or something?”
As the words left Alex’s mouth, a slight shiver clinched his shoulders. He had never meant the question to be serious. Wouldn’t have asked it had he not been sure Father Donovan would say no. However, even now, with the question still acrid on his tongue, Alex was unsure of how the priest would respond.
Alex’s fingers began to tremble as his right hand hung over his pawn to the far right. He grabbed it with his left hand and held them still. The game, he refused to think of anything
The Spiral Effect Page 7
