So sorry for the wait. xxx
"Were you any good?"
Roger's question disarmed Syed. He had prepared himself for indignant anger, as he knew his hope for a fairy tale dawning of realisation and the reply, "of course! I must do more!" was highly improbable. The conversational swerve, with no response at all, left him deflated; worried he may never find the opportunity, or courage, to challenge him again. Roger waved a white wooden chess piece at him and he gazed thoughtfully at the perfect circle of green felt on its base, shaking his head.
"Not really. I only did it for a term. My mum made me join loads of stuff where I might meet suitable boys and girls…"
"To get you away from the unsuitable ones?"
Syed laughed.
"Thankfully, she had no idea how unsuitable. All went pear shaped though. She was boasting about her clever son, leading light of the chess club, when her friend Bushra, pointed out, in front of everyone, that playing chess is considered haram…"
"Ha what?" Roger put down the last of the white pieces and began sorting out the black.
"Forbidden. In my faith."
"Really?" Roger studied the castle in his hand suspiciously, as if he were worried that it might sprout wings, catch on fire and propel itself into Syed's face. "Why?"
Syed slid his eyes to the King and shrugged, knowing that Roger wouldn't understand.
"Statues. And wasting time. Strangely, Ludo seemed to be exempt from any such rule in our house. Which was a shame, might have saved evenings of tortuous boredom…"
"It was Trivial Pursuit at ours." Roger said, sympathetically. "I used to get told off for not letting Christian win. Mind you…" He chuckled and began to remove the chessmen from the board. "…I was always being told off about something or another. I suppose Poker's out of the question?"
"Sorry. Don't know how anyway." Syed picked up a pawn, left unnoticed behind the bottle of Bourbon and twisted it between his fingers, smiling to himself at the recollection of an argument. Christian had been yelling, telling him it was a shame he didn't play, because he would clean up and be a millionaire, due to 'that ambiguous thing' he did, at which point, protesting that he had no idea what Christian meant, he had unwittingly done it and been thrown onto the bed to be punished with kisses.
"Shame." Roger took the pawn from Syed and dropped it with the other pieces, closing the box with a snap. "Doubt if Maudie's got Ludo. What did you do instead, when you got wrenched from Chess club?"
Syed narrowed his eyes and grinned. "Not so much wrenched as liberated. Swimming club. She had me down as a future Olympian. The unsuitable friend joined too. I mostly doggy paddled about in the shallow end while he showed off."
"Christian's a good swimmer."
"I know." A vision of strong arms, cutting through the water, droplets on smooth skin, taut thigh muscles, made Syed wriggle in his seat and glance towards the door, desperate to be with him. Another blast of wind rattled the glass in its frame and a dustbin lid arced through the air, crashing dangerously onto an abandoned car.
Maudie bustled over and deposited a fat red candle on an enamel plate between them.
"Here. Can't see a freaking thing, sky's so dark. You okay honey? I'd offer you something to eat, got a freezer full of steaks defrosting and no way to cook them. That generator was only fixed last month."
Getting a lighter from the top pocket of his shirt, Roger flicked it and lit the wick of the candle. He winked at Maudie and pulled out a cigar, enquiring with his eyes as to whether he could smoke it indoors. She pursed her lips and glared, hands on hips.
"No freaking way. You'll have to go outside. Good luck with that. Ed! Come and see if you can't help me fix this heap of junk."
Roger watched her stride across the Diner with Ed in tow, disappearing, cursing, to wreak vengeance on the generator and raised the cigar to his lips with a mischievous glint in his eye. The flickering flame, guttering in the whispers of wind that seeped in from outside, sent shadows over his skin, deepening the grooves, making him look as if he were carved from rock, eroded by the elements. Studying him, Syed thought of the Grand Canyon, of the president's heads on Mount Rushmore, wistfully wondering if he would ever get to see them, or just the inside of Miami airport again before he started the long journey back to England.
Sighing, Roger abandoned his impishness and tucked the cigar, unlit, into the pocket on the front of his beige shirt.
"Women. Your mum a bit of a battle axe then?"
Syed bridled at the insult, his jaw setting defiantly.
"No! She's kind, funny, caring…." The evidence of other behaviour flooded to the forefront of his mind, fond absence unable to deny it and his mouth twitched into a reluctant grin. "…interfering, opinionated, stubborn."
"Sounds like Linda. She get on all right with my boy?"
"Brilliantly, now." Stating the fact aloud, made Syed pause for a moment, marvelling at how such a thing could have ever come to pass and Roger regarded him sympathetically.
"Gang up on you, do they?" He swirled the Bourbon in his glass, the candlelight making it glitter, matching the colour of Syed's troubled eyes. "I know that feeling."
"I'm sure Christian and Linda don't mean to."
Roger laughed hollowly and took a large swig of the drink. Looking pitifully at Syed as if he were a poor, strange fool who had just suggested that the earth was flat, not noticing the lack of conviction in his statement, he said patiently,
"You don't know the half of it. Ah well, I suppose it was my own fault. I was working away a lot when he was a boy, let her spoil him, make me the enemy. Always ready to take offence that one, so damned touchy and proud. I learned to keep my mouth shut and let him believe what he wants. I wasn't impressed by him going after his sister's husband the way he did and I won't lie, I'd rather he wasn't that way inclined, but he is and he's still my son, regardless. At least now, he seems to have calmed down a bit, since he found you. Must be all he needed, someone to challenge him enough to keep him interested, someone to love. I'm well aware that he's never going to feel anything other than contempt for me, that's how it is. I can live with it."
"Oh I'm sure he…" At the sight of Roger's sternly arched eyebrow, Syed trailed away, knowing he was fooling no one, that any protestations he tried to make, any attempt to claim that Christian had no issues with his father at all, would be as flimsy as gossamer. He twisted a strand of his hair between his fingertips, venturing quietly, "It's not too late for things to change, is it? All pull together as a family. Do you think, maybe, now Linda's unwell, she might be better off going home?"
"She is home. She wanted to come here. It was her dream."
"Was it?" Defeated, Syed found a little comfort in having tried, but an overwhelming sense of tiredness washed over him and he slumped in his seat, the plastic squeaking against the back of his knees, a sad little noise of failure. "I suppose you must love it here. Why would you ever want to leave."
A clap of thunder overhead shook the walls and deadpan, Roger remarked,
"You have to admit the weather's nice. It's okay here, lad. I like the golf course, this place does a nice rib eye. It's not Shangri La, nowhere is. Basically, I just want a quiet life. If she wants to go back to England, she only has to ask."