The Orchid

by Robert Waggoner

  Afterwards, when the Andersons had gone home, my mom and dad sat talking with me on the back porch. Well, my mom talked while my dad was at least present.

  “You two make an awesome team,” my mom said. “She’s a very bright girl.”

  My dad lit a cigarette and nodded. He usually did not contribute much to the conversation. Things had gotten a little easier between my dad and me since Lindsey had come on the scene. His eyes lit up when she was around and he had been glad to set up the archery range.

  “She’s pretty cool. It’s like having a kid sister around sometimes, though.” I smiled. “She challenges me about stuff that none of my other friends ever did. I cannot just spout off opinions without backing them up. She asks “why” and “how” and “what if” until my head explodes! When she gets excited her Boston accent comes back big time!” I laughed again. “Sometimes I just watch her when she’s studying. It is as if she is doing two things at once. She is taking notes and reading at the same time. I never saw anyone as excited about learning as she is.

  “I find myself asking why now. Before this year, I really struggled with math. I told Lindsey that I didn’t like it and she gave me so much grief about it that I finally said, ‘Well, teach me if you’re so smart, you little turd.’ Oops.” I caught the shocked look on my mom’s face. “I didn’t mean it mean, mom.”

  “I’m surprised she lets you get away with that!” My mom said.

  “Anyway, she did teach me. I actually understand math and geometry. She’s studying algebra—which isn’t even her subject—so she can tutor me!”

  My mom seemed surprised at that.

  “I taught her chess and now I’m worried that she’s going to beat me every time we play!” I looked at my parents conspiratorially, “I had to ask her to teach me her favorite game, backgammon, just to keep from getting beat in chess. Oh, too late. She did beat me! She goes home at night and looks up stuff on the internet and in her home “library” just to make me feel stupid sometimes. I don’t mean she does it to make me feel stupid, but its stuff I should know and when I don’t I feel dumb.” I was moving the wheel of my chair back and forth. My mom always called it “pacing” and she gave me a look to make me stop. I put my hands in my lap. “She comes over with something new all the time. When does she even have time to learn that stuff?” I gazed at my mom and dad but did not see them.

  “I know what I’ll do! We haven’t talked about poetry yet!” I looked at my parents, “Dad, mom, who’s your favorite poet?”

  My dad shrugged but my mom seemed to be struggling with some inner tickle. A smile kept playing with the corner of her mouth. Finally, she burst into giggles while my dad and I looked at her in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said, all out of breath. “I was just having a moment.” She tried to suppress more giggles.

  I’d never seen my mom giggle like that—at least that I could remember. My dad and I were curious. I could see him wanting to ask her what was so funny. I tried to recall the last few words to see if they were funny but I didn’t think so. My mom got up and excused herself, “I need a drink of water,” she said. I heard her giggles turn into what I thought were tears. I looked at my dad in concern and alarm. He got up and went to the kitchen where mom was. It was a little while before they came back to the porch. They had said something to each other and my dad was smiling. I was the only one left out of the joke or whatever it was.

  My mom sat down and patted my arm. “I just got tickled at your description of Lindsey.”

  I believed her. I began to talk again. I talked with great enthusiasm for almost a half hour until I realized that my parents had not said a word in quite a while. I stopped talking.

  They exchanged a glance that I could not quite interpret but I guessed it was about Lindsey and me. Something I said during my monologue had triggered it. I looked at each of them and then decided it was time to let them talk for a while. I could have gone on for a lot longer about Lindsey but something in that glance caused me to feel embarrassed.

  Chapter 5

  Lindsey entered eighth grade my junior year. She heard about the chess club from a friend and asked me to join with her. We went together and found that you had to be a freshman to join. I started to wheel away from the room but Lindsey said something that made me stop and listen with interest and amusement.

  “If I can beat every player, will you let me join?”

  I turned my chair around and sat in the doorway to listen. The chess club president was a senior who knew the club was not very good but he did not know the rules very well. He hemmed and hawed until one of the junior members, who thought he was good, pulled out the rulebook. “There’s nothing in here about ages or grades. That must be a local rule,” he guessed.

  The president smiled condescendingly to Lindsey and said, “Sure. But you have to beat all seven of us and we play with timers.”

  “Fine,” Lindsey said. I saw the look on her face and knew that look well. She was extremely competitive! These guys were in for a surprise!

  I did not want to throw a game so Lindsey could join the club so I told her to play the members and if she got in, I would join.

  I got a little sarcastic with the president and asked, “Do I have to beat everyone in order to join?”

  The president looked at me without comprehension. “You’re not an eighth grader too, are you?”

  Lindsey sat down at one of the tables. Her first opponent, the lowest ranked member of the chess club sat down opposite her. He smiled condescendingly and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

  She beat him in seven moves. The boy was so stunned that he just stared at the board in disbelief. “I want a rematch!” He said. “I could have beaten her!”

  The next player in line gave his teammate a derisive look. His meaning was clear. Nevertheless, despite his implication that he would not be as careless, he went down in the same seven moves! Lindsey ran into a little problem with the third and fourth guys—it took her fifteen moves to beat them and then she ran up against two good players.

  The president of the club sat down next to me to watch and to find out if he was in big trouble when he played her. “She’s good!”

  I shrugged. “She’s only been playing for a year.”

  “No way!” He said as Lindsey beat the fifth player in just eight moves and then the sixth player in twenty moves. So far, it only took forty-five minutes for Lindsey to decimate the chess club. The president sat down uneasily across from the eighth grade girl and I could see him sweating before the match started. He lost but she let him stay in the game long enough to keep face. She waited until move twenty-one to pin his king in the corner and declare checkmate. He mopped his brow and said she was on the team.

  They had a little ceremony the next meeting and we joined. Lindsey and I were soon teaching the other members of the chess club how to recognize chess moves and soon we had chess “meetings” in my house after school. It was a lot of fun and it was good to have friends around. Most of them were there because Lindsey was but since I was the only one who could beat Lindsey more often than she beat me, they seemed to think I was okay. I did not mind. We had to move our meetings downstairs and finally mom said we could only go until 7:00 p.m. on school nights. That was okay with me because it gave Lindsey and me time to be alone together to study until at least 8:00 p.m. She was talking to her parents about extending the deadline but so far, they said no.

  We won our first chess competition. Lindsey, I, and Frank Gillette, a foreign exchange student who joined the chess club that year, easily beat everyone that the Class 2A School had to offer. Then we won our next match and our next one and pretty soon everyone was talking about chess. Lindsey and I had an undefeated record going into our match with the only 3A School on our schedule. It was usually not much of a contest for the 3A boys. They came to the match cocky and sure of victory. In fact, they were undefeated in their division.

  I was pleased to see that chess was a bit more exciting at Placerv
ille High than it was at our school. Dozens of spectators were there. I noticed the principal sitting on the front row. He watched with interest as the match progressed. Now and then, the kids would ask him questions about chess moves and he would answer. From what I could tell, he was good at chess. I guessed he might be their chess teacher as well as their principal.

  Lindsey and I each won the first match in seven moves. We were as surprised as they were dismayed. Nobody had apparently seen the classic Bobby Fischer, Boris Spatsky matches. Our other team members lost as expected and if Lindsey and I had lost, the match would have been over in the first round. However, because we won, we had to play again until we beat everyone on their team or lost. When Lindsey and I beat the second rank, people began to gather around. When I won my third contest, everyone raced over to see if the eighth grade girl could beat a senior chess champion. She did.

  Now the 3A boys were not so cocky. We faced our opponents and I grinned at Lindsey. So far, they had not shown us anything that we had not used against each other during our long summer of playing. Lindsey was nervous. I started with a classic Bobby Fischer opening and my opponent, a big, rawboned farm boy, smiled and countered easily. The game went back and forth and I could not concentrate on Lindsey’s game. I heard a roar and looked up to see Lindsey with a grin on her face and the first ranked 3A senior looking stunned. I looked back at my opponent and saw that the color had drained out of his face. If he beat me, he would have to play Lindsey. I thought he was going to throw the game to me just to avoid the risk that Lindsey would beat him but he chewed his lip and made a clever move that made me think he was going after my queen. I decided to draw him in and moved a pawn so he could slip in and put me in check with his queen. He barely even hesitated.

  “Check!” He called. “And checkmate on the next move!” He was in very high spirits.

  I shook my head in pretend sadness. “I guess you are right about that,” I grinned at him. “Checkmate,” I said, taking his queen with my knight and putting him in mate at the same time.

  After that, we were held in awe by our school and a lot of kids became interested in the game. Lindsey and I began to teach the game to anyone who wanted to learn. They could not believe she was so good. When chess competition season ended however, we dropped back into anonymity.

  I got my license right on schedule in November, on the fifteenth and dad let me begin driving to school the next day. I felt comfortable behind the wheel of the big Ford and wished that Lindsey could ride with me. It did not make much sense for her mom to take her now that I could drive. But, my dad squashed that. He wanted me to get a little experience driving by myself first.

  I managed to convince my dad that I was a safe driver by the end of November. I begged him to go riding with me to check me out. He made me drive all the way to Nashville and back and then declared that I was a better driver than he was. He gave me permission to drive Lindsey to school and back if her parents agreed.

  I talked to her parents the next day. Mrs. Anderson was skeptical but I asked her to take a test ride with me. She could determine the route. She almost declined but Lindsey convinced her that it was a good idea. Therefore, throwing caution to the wind she had me drive to school and back while she rode in the passenger seat. At the end of the trip, she gave permission for Lindsey to ride to school with me.

  Coming back from school in December that year, Lindsey impetuously leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It was the first time since she had come back from vacation that she had kissed me and it was the second time ever. I glanced at her and saw some mysterious inner happiness lighting her face. She was smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m just remembering how we beat the 3A boys!” She had a blissful look on her face. “You made it possible, Jimmy!”

  “I did?”

  “Yes! You taught me how to play. You challenged me and made me study the stupid game because you kept beating me.”

  I was not about to take credit where it was not due. “You’re just so stubborn that you refuse to be beaten!” I declared. “I remember my mom having to kick you out at night because you just wanted to play one more game to get your honor back!”

  She nodded happily. “And don’t you forget that I’m stubborn!” She put her head against my shoulder. Her brown hair had grown some and hung down on my chest.

  That was a first. We were brother and sister in almost everyway except by happenstance of birth. I liked her better than I would have liked any sister. It was probably because she went home at night and because she was not challenging my position in the family. I thought about putting my arm around her as I drove but since I had to use my hands for driving, it would not exactly work. Then I wondered about that. She was thirteen and I was seventeen. Even if I became the slightest bit interested, the age gap was too great and it would freak both our families out.

  Before we got home, she scooted over in the seat and the mood returned to normal. Suddenly I was glad that the specially designed Ford came with bench seats instead of the standard bucket seats.

  The rest of the school year passed quickly. Lindsey, I, and various members of the chess club continued to play and study together. However, for most of the week and all of the weekend it was just the two of us. Our parents got so used to us being together they just treated us as if we were their kids, no matter which house we were in. Oh yeah, Lindsey’s parents put in handicapped ramps so I could visit. My dad had a sidewalk poured across the yard so I could wheel over to the Andersons. I did not ask them for it, but I guess they got together with Lindsey’s folks and decided to do it. They realized that we had formed a bond before I did.

  Chapter 6

  School was out and Lindsey’s parents asked my parents to come on vacation with them. Lindsey and I hoped they would agree and they did. We spent a crazy week at Disney World in Florida, and then went to cabins further up the panhandle that we rented together on the beach near Destin. It was a long section of the beach that was private, which I think was for my sake.

  The first day I just rested on the front porch and listened to the breakers crashing. I was glad to get away from the excitement of Disney World. There was so much to do and see that you felt like you had to be on the go all the time. I was ready to relax.

  Lindsey tried to talk me into going exploring on the beach with her but I knew it would be impossible to navigate through the sand. The wheelchair wheels would just bog down. My dad solved that problem. That afternoon he rented a battery-powered wheelchair with balloon wheels from a nearby rental place. I really appreciated that and told him I did. He nodded.

  “When you are ready to go, just let me know,” he said. “I’ll help you around the water.”

  It was a breakthrough of sorts. Lindsey gave me a look full of secret happiness in her eyes. I tried to push it off as no big deal. My dad was a strong guy who didn’t know how to deal with a crippled son. It was not something he had ever figured he would have to do. I guess there is no good way to prepare for something like that. It was like my friends at school who stopped coming around because they felt awkward around me. I was not like them anymore and they did not know how to deal with it. Neither did my dad. However, he could not exactly stop coming around. The one breakthrough with the archery range did not really create enough of a change in our relationship to be satisfying. He taught me to drive and that was a great time but he had reverted to silence afterwards.

  “It’s waterproof but don’t get out in the water or you’ll get dragged away,” he warned.

  I tried it out. It was a lot bouncier than my thin-wheeled chair. I did not have to push it either! It had a battery. I raced it up the street to get used to it. Lindsey sat on the porch and watched me as I played. When it got dark, I rolled up the ramp onto the porch and let the screen door close behind me.

  The great thing about this vacation with the Andersons was that we did so many things together. My mom and dad and the Andersons seemed to like each other. Lin
dsey and I had become inseparable. It was special out here because there were no distractions.

  The first day was our recovery day and the second day was exploration. Lindsey wore a tee shirt over her pale green, two-piece, bathing suit. She was bare foot, tanned and anxious to go exploring. The families ate breakfast together by mutual agreement at our cabin. It was our turn to do the dishes so we hurried to do them before it got hot outside. Finally, we were ready.

  The battery was good for at least three hours, according to the rental place, so when we left the cabin at 9:00 a.m., we decided that wherever we were, we would have to start back by 10:30 a.m. or face running out of juice. We crossed the first large dune that separated the cabins from the beach, traveling on the boardwalk. When it ended, we found ourselves navigating across the thick white sand. The electric wheelchair had no problems. It was almost like driving a dune buggy and I began to enjoy the ups and downs of the sand hills. When the going got too tough, we went closer to the water where the sand was packed and flat. There were a dozen vacant, hurricane-damaged houses set back from the private beach we were on. I felt sorry for the crowds of people packed together on the public beaches about a mile from us.

  We found a copse of big, old palm trees, and stopped to rest. Lindsey sat on a fallen tree in the shade and I, who did not need to sit down but did appreciate the shade, watched her. She was sweating and we had only been out for twenty minutes.

  “Go for a swim,” I suggested. The water was bluegreen and bright. The waves were rather calm. I could see a sand bar change the color of the water a hundred feet off shore.

  “That would feel good!” Lindsey stood up and took off her tee shirt. She handed it to me and I followed her to the edge of the water. She walked into the water until it was ankle deep and stopped to feel the sand suck out from under her feet as the waves pulled back from the shore. She laughed with pleasure and described the feeling to me before continuing. It seemed as though she walked forever before she was waist deep in the surf. With a backward glance at me, she turned and dove into an onrushing wave.