I woke up around midnight with spasms in my legs. It was so painful I hit the intercom button and called my mom and dad. I felt just like I’d cramped up playing football! My mom and dad had no idea what to do so they called Steve who called Dr. Lang and woke him up in South America. By the time he called us back the spasms had subsided.
“You can expect that to happen more frequently, Jimmy, “he warned me. “As the nerves begin to do their job, they see stuff that is not right and try to fix it. The only thing you can do is wait it out. It shouldn’t last more than ten minutes.”
“But what is it? What’s causing that to happen?” I asked.
“It sounds like the nerves are arcing. They’re growing, Jimmy! If they get too close together, they short out and your muscles cramp up. I think we talked about this before the surgery.”
After I hung up, my mom and dad stared at me. “Well?” Mom said.
I told them what the doctor said and then complained, “I never knew how long ten minutes could last!”
“Try having a baby,” my mom said somewhat unsympathetically.
“What do I do if I’m driving and this happens?”
“For the next three months, you better let someone else drive,” Steve said. “That’s how long Dr. Lang said this might last.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I wanted to know.
“Exercise, buddy, exercise,” Steve said cheerfully. “You gotta pay the price. Didn’t football teach you that?”
I threw myself into exercising with a passion. I wanted to keep the cramps and my agony from Lindsey—call it a perverse need to surprise her with my progress. I wanted to surprise her by standing up from my wheel chair and holding her in my arms. I was determined to do that as soon as possible.
My mom began to drive me to the university. Lindsey was concerned, scared, worried that I was not driving but I told her it was because my car was out of commission and needed to be fixed. She accepted that because I never lied to her. I worried about that. I hoped it would not come back to haunt me in a big way. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let her know about the cramps.
They came at night. Great, massive bolts of pain out of the blue would grip me and twist me until I was sweaty and sobbing. I never called my parents after that first time. I buried my face in my pillow and waited for the torture to ease. The worst thing about any pain is the unknown. Once you know what is going on, it’s easier to face. The cramps began to come regularly almost every night as if some malevolent force had me pinned down and delighted in torturing me! Fortunately, they only hit once a night, no more.
I remembered Dr. Lang’s words about some patients only getting this far in their recovery and I thought—if that happens to me, I’ll take a gun to myself. The only thing that kept me sane was the hope that there would come a day when these muscle-wrenching cramps would end.
During March, and right up until the tournament in April, Lindsey and I played over a hundred games of chess in preparation for New York. Lindsey wanted to have Principal Jones tutor her in chess but her parents nixed that idea. She did the second best thing and played a few games with him via e-mail at the end of March. She lost but Dr. Jones was encouraging in that he said she was very good. He gave her some pointers before he hung up.
Lindsey put his advice to immediate use. She asked me to play specific combinations of moves against her from games played by the masters. She did not want to know what particular game or master I chose so that she could get a feel for the tournament conditions. I chose some obscure masters from two centuries ago and studied their moves. I pitted them against Lindsey repeatedly, in different combinations, until she recognized the plays and found a defense against them. Soon she was recognizing them within two or three moves and countering easily. I suggested she play Dr. Jones again and she challenged him that night a week before the tournament.
This time Lindsey countered every move he made. He called and continued the game over the phone. The game ended in a draw. He told Lindsey she was more prepared than anyone he had ever tutored.
The chess tournament took place in late April over a weekend. We flew to New York separately. Her family had an anonymous sponsor who funded their trip. We never knew who, but I suspected Steve Singleton was behind it in some way.
We did not realize that Lindsey would be the star attraction at the chess tournament. It was a lot of pressure on her and she held up well the first day but her nature was one that fled from the limelight. Match play began on day two. When Lindsey wasn’t playing, she was barraged by questions. They all wanted to know how it felt to be a girl player at this level, if she was going to win and so on. Dr. Jones smiled with pride as he anticipated Lindsey taking the chess world by storm.
The tournament was age-based so Lindsey was in the 17 to 18-year-old division. There were no other females in the competition and the boys were mostly of Asian or Indian heritage. Here and there were a few Caucasians and blacks, but no other females to take the attention of the media off Lindsey.
She faltered right away in her first chess match. With cameras and flashbulbs popping and snapping every time she moved a chess piece, she began to doublethink every move. The boy across from her had been there before. He expected to win and he was good. Lindsey lost in thirty-two moves.
It was a double elimination tournament, which meant that Lindsey had lost once and she would be out of the match if she lost twice. Her next opponent was a very skilled player who was last year’s champion. Before the match, Lindsey came and sat down next to me.
“I didn’t do very well,” she said. “I couldn’t think.”
“There are too many people who will be disappointed if you don’t win, right?”
She nodded miserably.
“Then I guess you just have to play as if today is the last time you will pick up a pawn. Maybe tomorrow all of your fingers fall off. Who knows, it could happen.” I held her hand and moved each digit. “Yeah, I think this one’s ready to fall.” I wiggled her pinky.
She grinned and gave me the look. “I’m being pretty stupid to worry about what these guys think of me, right?”
“I think you’re pretty great. Who cares what they think.”
She held my hand tightly for a second or two and then got up. “Do you think I can win?”
I shook my head affirmatively.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
When she sat down, I knew the other boy was in trouble because she began to play with a ringlet by her ear. When she twisted her hair with two fingers, she was concentrating. She recognized his King’s Gambit opening and let it play out until she was able to counteract it with one of Serchez’s moves. He apparently had not seen that because he fell into the trap and in six more moves she called checkmate.
Lindsey drew white on the next game and she opened with Fray’s Attack. The boy across from her failed to recognize the danger and countered with standard moves that should have been good with any other opponent. Lindsey beat him and suddenly the crowds around her table began to grow again.
Lindsey won the next two matches and the tournament paused for lunch. After two hours, it resumed and Lindsey won the afternoon matches. By the end of the day, only four people remained and Lindsey was one of them. The chess match would resume at 10:00 a.m.
That night Lindsey and I went to the observation lounge in the Hotel. It was quiet and the view of New York’s lights was amazing. It was nice to look down on the Big Apple and not see the wormholes. The lights were beautiful. The night was clear and cloudless and the lounge was dark. We talked about the tournament for a little while and then turned our thoughts to more important things.
“I’ve had a good life, Jimmy,” Lindsey said. We were holding hands in a dark part of the lounge. There were not very many people around us.
I looked at her. Her fingers were squeezing mine as if an electrical pulse was running through her. “It’s a good life so far,” I corrected her.
“No, I mean it. Lo
ok at all the things I’ve been blessed with,” she said fervently. “I have you, my parents, I’m going to be valedictorian, like you were, and I have lots of friends…”
“Lindsey, what are you trying to say?” I did not like the direction the conversation was taking.
“Maybe I’m having second thoughts about my optimism. Everyone says I’m too optimistic.”
“Not me,” I corrected her again.
“I know, not you, Jimmy. But a lot of the teachers at school think I’m looking at life as I want it to be instead of as it really is.”
I sat silently. Her fingers pulsed.
“They say it’s a mistake to be excessively optimistic. Like some of the great philosophers of the past: Niche, Kierkegaard…others,” Her voice trailed off.
“Lindsey,” I spoke at last, hoping I understood enough to talk about it. “You are not excessively optimistic. You are a realist with an abundance of hope. I’ve seen you hope for the best in every situation while observing the thing as it really was.”
“Maybe I’m just scared,” she admitted.
“Of what, exactly?” I asked.
“I think it’s the realist in me that says Meckler’s disease is going to win. There’s too much stacked against beating it.”
“How can you say that? We don’t understand enough to know what the odds are.”
“Everyone who dies—dies young.” She replied quietly.
We looked out the window. After a few minutes, I pressed her hand. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow—tomorrow,” she said, “but the future, yeah, I feel a little worried.”
I waited.
“I didn’t worry until you started getting ants in your pants,” she giggled at her own humor and it lightened the mood briefly. When she sobered, she said, “I began to think that maybe you would get better and Romeo and Juliet would happen: I’d die.” Lindsey suddenly burst into tears.
I was shocked. Rarely had Lindsey admitted to doubts or fears since I had known her. I leaned over and pulled her onto my lap. I put my arms around her and held her while she cried quietly in the empty room. When at last her tears subsided, she wiped them away with a napkin.
“You’ve been my strength, Lindsey,” I said resting my chin lightly on her shoulder. “You have carried me through the most difficult times of my life. But, Lindsey, nobody can do that for as many people for as long as you have without getting tired.”
I kissed her cheek lightly. “I’m going to be your strength tonight. Can you feel the strength in my arms?” I held her tightly. “Can you feel the strength of my heart beating right next to yours? That is where it will be all the days of our lives. After tonight, Lindsey, we are going to go out into this world and finish what we have started. We will not quit. I won’t and you won’t.”
We sat in silence for a long time just being together. When at last someone entered the lounge, Lindsey stirred and got off my lap. The person walked back out, not seeing anyone else. Lindsey knelt beside me and put her head on my lap. “I’ll let you be my strength, Jimmy.”
I stroked her hair. “You know what you taught me that day when we talked to your mom and dad, Lindsey?”
“No,” she looked at me.
“That you should always live until you die.” I grinned at her.
Her fingers reflected that her spirit was calming down. The pulse stopped. “There really isn’t anything I can do about Meckler’s disease, is there?” She asked.
“Not a single thing,” I agreed.
“In that case, I’m going to live until I die!” Then she kissed me.
The next morning Lindsey won the first match. The crowd erupted in applause as she called checkmate and sat back in her chair. Her opponent wiped the sweat off his brow with the handkerchief he had been using regularly, and then admitted to defeat. He shook hands with her and walked away.
Lindsey now faced the one person that had defeated her. He was confident and had the advantage of starting the game. Someone next to me whispered that Lee Young was the best young chess player they had ever seen. I looked over at Principal Jones and saw his look of anticipation. He had never made it this far with any of his players before. Already he seemed to be thrilled. Lindsey had made it to the final round!
Lindsey’s face was blank. She would wait for the first move and then her features would wind up like a clock under tension. I knew how that wonderful mind worked. The thing that bothered me was her hand. She was not touching her hair. Then she glanced over at me and smiled. I felt relief wash through me. It would be okay.
Lee Young’s opening move silenced the anticipatory murmurs in the audience; it was the standard King’s-pawn-four. Lindsey countered and the game was on. Move after move the two of them fought for control of the center four squares. Lee was squeezing Lindsey out of the squares and she would recover. It was fitting that the last match of the tournament would come down to the most basic moves.
Lee moved his King’s Bishop out and Lindsey countered. He moved his King’s Knight out and Lindsey countered. I could see that he was playing with more than just confidence. He was playing carelessly. I understood immediately that he considered Lindsey lucky, not skilled. I sat back and could not help but grin. Lindsey took advantage of Lee’s carelessness and pride. She hesitated over a couple of moves and drew Lee’s attention to those moves. I saw her do it and understood that she was leading him to make a decision based on her feints.
There comes a moment when you realize you have been had. Lee’s face fell when he realized that moment. Lindsey had him and he knew it. He valiantly played the game to the end and then looked at his female opponent as if seeing her for the first time. It was a look of respect. I was glad Lindsey had taken advantage of the boy’s carelessness and knew that he would not make that mistake again. Lindsey took no pride in the win, she merely put his king in checkmate and reached across the table and shook Lee’s hand. The crowd erupted in applause.
Lee looked disconsolate. He had expected to sweep the tournament. It was his first loss and it bothered him because he had gotten careless, thinking Lindsey was not his equal.
Lindsey had white on the second game. She tested Lee by opening with Horatio’s Attack. Lee knew that one and the game ended in a draw. Lee opened his next with Gioacchino Greco’s standard opening. Lindsey countered it and the game turned into a draw. Both of them went back and forth using the great master’s openings, testing each other.
The afternoon wore on with neither player showing the least signs of fatigue. The crowd sighed with each draw. Finally, Lindsey had White again and she opened with Fray’s Advance. Lee seemed confused by the opening and missed countering it with the best move. Lindsey took advantage of it. She went on the attack and Lee found himself scrambling to cover. He managed to get his footing back when Lindsey made a single, small mistake. She recovered quickly and pressed the attack again. Both players struck repeatedly until it looked like a draw was inevitable. Lindsey had one pawn left and both bishops. Lee was down to his queen and king. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as Lindsey marched her pawn down each rank while trying to keep Lee from putting her in check and capturing the pawn. Lee was desperate. He would have to sacrifice his queen because Lindsey controlled the squares that the pawn was on with her bishops.
Incredibly, Lee managed to put Lindsey in check and capture one of her bishops without losing his queen but Lindsey countered by putting his king in check with her remaining bishop. He had to move his king, which allowed Lindsey then to advance to the final rank and regain her queen. Since she had forced him onto the last rank, he was in check the moment she regained her queen. He had to place his queen between Lindsey’s queen and his king. Instead of taking his queen at the cost of her own and ending the game in another draw, Lindsey moved her queen and put Lee in check once more. He countered by moving his queen. Now Lindsey was in danger by Lee’s queen if she moved her queen. She could not move it back to where she had previously had him in
check because that would begin the countdown for a draw. She took a gamble and took Lee’s queen with her own. Lee took Lindsey’s queen with his king and now the race was on. Lee had to escape long enough to win a draw. Lindsey began to move in with her king and bishop.
The first move favored Lindsey because she was able to keep him pinned on the back rank with her bishop. Slowly and with carefully thought out movements, Lindsey managed to get him into the corner where she put him in checkmate.
The audience roared its approval. Lindsey was the first female ever to win the tournament previously dominated by men. She accepted her trophy and a full, four-year scholarship to the college of her choice. She walked quickly to where we were waiting and begged us to get her out of there. Cletus Jones came to us with shining eyes and hugged Lindsey. “I didn’t recognize your gambit on that final match,” he said. “But you were brilliant!”
Chapter 13
Steve told me he was going to fly to Hawaii in the summer. It was the first opportunity he had to take a vacation and he was going to use it to look for Dr. Laird.
My feet hurt like the devil all the time now. The fire spread into my calves and sometimes up the back of my leg making me itch like crazy. I scratched and rubbed when Lindsey was not around.
Lindsey had come into her own during her senior year. The thing with Frank could have devastated her but the feeling of calm and of being looked after, even in the middle of that, changed her. She was assured, mature, and kinder than ever before. I watched her interact with people. She was never one to take something wrong. She never complained. Some nights I just stared at her while she did homework. She clutched a pencil between her teeth and tangled a curl around her finger while she studied. She would catch me looking at her, give me a brilliant smile, and then go back to what she was doing. In a moment, she would raise her eyes to see if I was still watching and if I was—which was always—she would reach across the table and catch my hand. A little while later, it would start all over again.
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