Checkmate
The boy peered curiously at the sea of black and white. His fingers gently grazed the carvings in the piece. He was more interested in knocking them all down than placing them precariously in each box to be honest. But he had to endure this because daddy had to go to work and momma insisted that they come here.
"Well? What's your next move?" His grandfather's papery hands curled around his, his rough hands, wrinkled with age which were shaking, held his soft, small ones. The boy sighed, kicking his legs up, yearning to be in the sunshine.
"I don't know Grandpa...why don't you just tell me like always?" The old man chuckled.
"You need to develop some patience. I'm not always there to tell you the right moves." The boy rolled his eyes.
"You'll always be there Grandpa." The old man looked at the boy for a moment before resetting the board.
"Look here, everyone is in the right place right? Clean board, a new game of possibilities. What would be your first move?" The boy shrugged, touching a random pawn and moving it two spaces up.
"Are you sure? The pawn is right in the center, what if someone could get in between the lines and take the king? You're making it easy for your opponent to take the pawn." The boy rolled his eyes.
"It's just a pawn. It's so small...why does it matter?"
"Every piece on this board matters...even the little ones. They all amount to something great. Now...which piece is your favorite?"
"The rook I guess." He fingered the piece; he personally liked how it looked like a small castle tower. The old man smiled.
"Most people would say the knight. But I'll tell you my favorite piece is the rook too. It only goes in straight lines, as many as you want...no complication."
"Grandpa, I'm bored...can't I go outside now?" He whined. The old man smiled.
"How about one more game Henry?" He rearranged the pieces. "Now when you-" He cleared his throat and coughed, making a low, hollow sound.
"Grandpa?" The old man was bent over, having a coughing fit. "Grandpa? Mom!" He yelled his hands frantically pawing, clueless at his grandfather's plaid shirt.
It was on that day that Henry Branwell learned the meaning of cancer.
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"Branwell?" Henry winced. His boss must've found the- "Why the hell is there oil all over the coffee maker?!"
"W-well sir..I mean-I though-I just"
"My patience is waning Branwell."
"The coffee maker could work so much more efficiently sir! I thought- if I could just tinker with it then there could be coffee in three seconds flat! No more coffee lines!"
"That wasn't your call Branwell...no you can explain to the entire office why they won't be able to get their coffee! Wait until Mr. Mortmain hears about this!" Henry's red faced boss stomped away.
Henry sighed and returned to his cubicle. This was his job- day in and day out. "Jeez, just trying to spice things up around here." He glanced at all of his coworkers. Nothing. No reaction. In a few hours, he would pack up and shove himself into an already crowded elevator. Take the R train all the way back to his closet sized apartment in Brooklyn, microwave his dinner and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. "I wonder if this was what Grandpa imagined me to be." He muttered, typing out some mindless orders.
"I can't believe this Branwell!" Henry winced as his boss slammed his file on the desk. "You missed an entire page of accounting! This will take days to sort out! What the hell were you thinking?"
"I-I'm so sorry...I can't-don't even realize how I could possibly-"
"Your apologies don't solve anything! The reputation of this company has been compromised because of a puny little office worker." His boss sighed, trying to gain control, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are suspended without pay. Don't come into work tomorrow. Get out of here before I am reminded again of what a waste of space you are."
No one even looked up as Henry packed his stuff and left.
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Charlotte's Bakery was filled with the smell of fresh sticky buns. Charlotte was grappling with a large, rope of dough as the doorbell jingled, announcing Henry's arrival. Charlotte smiled sadly at his downtrodden figure.
"Hello dear, bad day?" Henry sighed, the weight of the world pushing him down into a stool.
"I almost got fired today Charlotte, pretty sure I'm going to be fired pretty soon." Charlotte fixed him a bun and a cup of steaming tea.
"Don't talk like that; I'm sure they're happy to have you there! You were always quite the number cruncher." Henry sipped from the cup, the warm drink melting away the frigid rain.
"But that's all I am to them, a number cruncher. My life is..."He sighed, "seemingly never- ending." Charlotte bit her lip.
"Hold on, I have something for you." She disappeared into the closet for a moment, before coming out with worn out chess set. The pieces were made of wood, splintered and discolored and the board was bent at a funny angle with lots of coffee stains over it but Henry holds it reverently. "I'm sorry; I know it's a little banged up..."
"No." Henry contradicted. He smiled at her, "thank you Charlotte, thank you so much." Charlotte flushed, light pink spreading into her cheeks. Henry tipped a rook over. "I haven't had one of these since I was a kid. My granddad had one you know. But then he passed and it..." He paused, remembering the flashes of hospital gowns and wrinkled fingers. "Well, I never found out what happened to it."
Charlotte smiled sympathetically and adjusted the flower in her vase. "I'm glad this one could cheer you up Henry. It belonged to my father...although I was never one for a game."
"Thanks Charlotte...you really don't know how much this means to me." He leaned over and pecked her cheek. "I'll see you later then?"
"Y-yes of course Henry. Have a nice day!" She grinned.
It was only when Henry closed the door and heard the silence that the euphoria ran out. This was his life: go to work, come home, heat up a frozen meal, go to bed. It was a rather bland existence for a man and Henry had been doing for about ten years. He fingered the used pieces. His grandfather's set had been like this.
The edges of all the pieces had left marks of dirt from the construction workers outside, from the careful, tentative, hesitations of those in the old folks home and the curious grabbing of one young boy. Each piece held someone's touch, each game was a story etched into the board. Henry traced a coffee stain, thinking of every story on this one.
The games were lonely, Henry had two different strategies running in his head and his rustiness didn't exactly help. He often ended up losing to himself or drawing a forfeit. So then, Henry decided it was time for something drastic.
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$20 to the victor of this game
Make any number of moves you want
But the one who is on the other side of the board
When I am beaten will get the money
Henry propped up the cardboard sign and leaned on the stone cold wall of tone of the supports of the Manhattan Bridge. He could smell the smoky scent of shish kabobs frying from the nearby vendors; hear the snippets of Chinese from passersby. The board was propped up; his white pawn was already in the battlefield.
He was glad he had brought a book because all he had gained were odd looks from pedestrians. A young boy had curiously approached the board once, after pushing a pawn over; he had darted off. Henry sighed before packing up his kit.
The first day had been a complete and total failure.
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Henry did this for the following months, every Sunday the chessboard was set up on he hard concrete but no one dared to play. Henry kept his money in his wallet but an empty side of the board. He was halfway through the fifth book of Harry Potter before he felt someone stand over him. Bewildered, he set the book down and saw a raggedy pair of converses. His eyes followed the body up to see a whirl of red hair.
"Is the offer still up?" Henry couldn't find his voice so he just nodded. The girl grinned.
"Great. I'm Clary by the way, Clary Fray." She shook his hand.
"H-Henry Branwell." He stammered. "Please." He gestured, before realizing that there was no chair. Clary chuckled before seating herself on the cement.
"I'm terrible at chess by the way so don't blame me if I'm a bit slow."
"Chess is a mental game, it wouldn't be fun if it weren't slow." Henry said, recalling his grandfather's words. Clary bit her lip before moving her pawn forward three spaces. "That's not how it moves." Henry remarked. Clary looked at him with blank eyes.
"It's not?"
"Do-do you know how to play?" Clary laughed sheepishly.
"Well I'm a bit rusty...you know haven't played in a- yea I have no idea what I'm doing, can you please teach me?"
Henry suddenly felt a burst of enthusiasm, a student? This was even better than another player. "Of course." He quickly rearranged the pieces to their natural order. "Now here, the pawn moves only one space in any direction however..."
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"So why are you out here every week?" Clary asked as she slid her rook two spaces forward.
"Well my friend gave me this set...and I never really had anyone to play with so who better than all of New York?" Henry chuckled. "My grandfather once said that chess can make friends out of enemies and I guess that's true. What better way to work out your aggression than to use up all of your mental power?" He slid the bishop three spaces diagonally.
"Your grandfather sounds like a smart man." Clary bit her lip, about to move a pawn before seeing the slight shake of Henry's head. Her hands quickly found a knight.
"He introduced me to this game. I remember I used to hate visiting him because he would always make me sit inside and play with him when all I wanted to do was run around."
"And now?" Clary slid her knight forward.
"And now, I can't of anything I want to do more than play a game with him." There was a moment of silence before Henry slid his queen into place. "Checkmate."
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"So what do you do for a living?" Clary asked.
"Accountant for Mortmain Enterprises." Henry furrowed his brow, shifting his rook forward.
"Really? That must be exciting." Clary snorted.
"More like depressing. My boss isn't exactly the best person to work with."
"Well don't you have cool coworkers at least? It could be like in The Office." Clary moved her bishop 6 spaces forward.
"They don't even know my name. It's all about the money there, the number crunching. I can't even bear to use the computer because I'm so sick of hearing the sound of keystrokes. Besides, the only thing I do at the office is ruin everything with my lame inventions or fix ups."
"Come on, it can't be that bad." Clary scoffed, capturing Henry's rook.
"I once got the coffee machine to serve oil instead of coffee...and no one told my boss." Clary winced.
"Was it bad?"
"I got suspended...without pay." Henry moved his queen.
"Oh...so why don't you do something that you want to do?" Clary asked.
"I'm not good at anything...besides I'm just a waste of space anyway."
"...check." Clary said quietly.
The lessons went on for weeks, sometimes her boyfriend Jace came to see the tension in the games as Clary built her skill (though Henry found Jace more of a distraction as Clary couldn't seem to stop turning red at every move). The little group attracted attention as well, there was soon a cluster of people surrounding them, all cheering for one person or watching in awe.
"Well a deal's a deal..." Henry smiled as he handed over his twenty. "I have taught you well." Clary grinned as she stood up, ready to go with the dispersing crowd. Henry felt a twinge of sadness; he would miss his lessons with Clary.
"Don't look so down, you'll be seeing me again." Clary smiled.
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The next Sunday, Henry was walking towards the bridge ready for another long wait. He was confused to hear the murmur of activity near his spot. He sprinted towards it, ready to take his place before anyone else before he stopped dead.
Chess Lessons from the great player himself:
Henry Branwell
The sign was propped up against a brand new chess set, gleaming in their novelty. He stared at it, not quite sure if this was reality when he felt a tug at his sleeve.
"Hey mister, is it true you can teach me how to play chess?"
A few blocks away Clary smiled, intertwining her fingers with Jace's warm hand. She recalled the words on that wrinkled sheet of paper:
Never underestimate the simple joy of a board game.
A/N: I know, I'm sorry I haven't updated but here's my newest chapter! I'm still not sure when my other chapters will be coming out but I will definitely be finishing my works so look out for another chapter soon.
This was inspired by a walk my dad and I took through Chinatown. A man would set a game of Chinese chess up and anyone could play. However unlike Henry, they had to stay for the whole game and if they lost, they would need to give the game $10 dollars and vice versa if they won. According to my dad, no one has won...yet.