Chapter 4
After typing out the conversation from my second trip to see Jack, I did a lot of thinking about how I could beat him in chess. I think I figured out a way.
The next visit I showed up at his door with two chess boards in hand.
"You've come back for more I see."
"I'm doing it for Jacky."
He just laughed, "Well come in, I'll go see if I can find her."
Committed to his witticism he went to the kitchen, his bedroom, and the bathroom, and called out for Jacky. Meanwhile I set up the two mismatched chess boards on the table next to his.
"I can't find her," he said and grinned very suspiciously seeing the three boards lined up on the table.
"What?” I asked.
“I think three games at the same time could be pretty hard. Very mentally taxing.”
I nodded and we both made our first moves. He started by pushing his king’s pawn forward two squares. I countered with the one I remember him playing the first game last week. I pushed the king’s pawn forward two squares.
We moved to the next board where he was white, and he made the same move as the first board which I hoped he might. I continued to copy whatever move he did on the first board on the third board.
I could tell he was thinking very hard. He was perfectly matched by his own skill, because he was basically playing himself.
I had to go out of order, by moving back to the second board to begin the second round, so I could figure out what move to make on the first board. I tried to be casual about it. We played through all three games and just like I planned, I won the game on the third board!
He shook my hand and congratulated me. “I guess you’re going to get a story out of me after all.”
¶
Jack began, “Why is it that excitement always leads me to discouragement?
I was at another get together, and instead of trying to take center stage, I kept telling myself I might find something intriguing on the floor... Well I did! It was an empty reflection of a girl with a troubled mind, and no happy medium.
I think either my brain speeds out of control, or my senses are lagging far behind my interpretation.
Speeding or heightening my sense experience, was by far worse than numbing my mind. Then again, only in some ways, but either is not a state I could ever adapt permanently.
Mom would always say to pick your battles…
I don’t even know what happens, I tell myself being right doesn’t matter, but then when the situation arises, there I am proving my point.
Jokes on me, someone who is usually right is also usually alone.
Maybe I’m not even usually right, maybe I am just good at proving my point to myself…
I just feel like I have so many important things to say, or maybe I just want to say important things. Anything said is more important if someone else listens… right?
Okay, that’s the root! I don’t feel important.
I think I come to conclusions like this often, and I don’t know where they go, I just forget about them.
I need to figure out how I can feel important.
I feel like I’m paddling out into the ocean. The waves and the spray distract and block my view, and I never know how far I have gone; it’s frustrating. I should just stop looking for signposts, and just keep moving forward.
If what I am thinking is important, regardless of whether someone hears it, maybe I should write it down.
I will chart where I am going as I write, and that will help me see how far I have come. I will try to make progress, and hopefully the evidence I write of my progress, will keep me from moving backwards.
First thing I don’t want to turn back on is, the epiphany: that anything important is important, whether anyone hears it or not.
Second, hmmm, feeling important is a real struggle for me, but not more real than my capacity not to let it be.
Every time I feel motivated and excited, there is this looming fear that it is just my lucky rabbit’s foot--That I just want things to be different, but I am fighting my own DNA. A fish can’t climb a tree.
So many other things in my body work right, I can hear, I can see, walk and chew gum at the same time.
My dad would say walking and chewing gum is difficult for some. He was just being witty I suppose, but I’d like to think there is nothing wrong with me.
Why then, does it seem my brain is on fire sometimes?”
¶
Of course Jack ended the story in a question, then added to it by giving me a puzzle as well.
“With a balance and four weights, I can measure any weight between one and forty pounds with a one pound accuracy. What are those four weights?”
¶
I forgot to mention it earlier, but the answer to the last one by the way, was ‘no.’ Novice, Nobody etc.
As I was getting ready to leave he put his hand on my shoulder, “Oh and I’d like a second try at the three boards at one time and I’m going to practice while you’re gone, so that I’m ready for next week.”
“Alright, I’ll bring them again.”
¶
I realized after thinking about his last comment, that he could have easily beat me on all three boards. It wasn’t that he really found playing his best self entertaining, mostly that I thought I was clever. Or it could be that deep down he wanted to continue telling Jacky’s story and gave me a break.
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Jack Emerson Page 4