26. “Who taught you how to play anyway?”
“WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO PLAY ANYWAY?”
HALE
Harry took my bishop, easy.
Just reached over and slid it off the board like he was clearing crumbs from a table.
“Your move,” he said.
I leaned back, trying to figure out where the hell I’d slipped. I thought I had his habits locked down, but apparently not.
“Damn.”
It was quiet for a Tuesday. Leaves shifted overhead. A dog dragged its owner across the grass, and some kid bounced a basketball on the far side of the path, the hollow rhythm carrying farther than it should.
Harry had been at this same table every Tuesday and Saturday for years, his caretaker a few tables over, close enough to help him up when the game was done and far enough away not to interfere.
The first time I’d seen him here, he’d finished a game with a guy who walked off muttering, and Harry just looked up at me and said, “You play?”
Now he beat me more often than not. I didn’t mind. These afternoons were simple. Show up. Sit down. Pay attention.
I picked up my knight, turned it once between my fingers.
“You’re stalling,” Harry said.
“I’m thinking.”
“Who taught you how to play anyway?”
“Dad did. Give me a second.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.
Buzzed again.
I moved my queen.
Harry leaned in, eyebrows drawn together beneath his old wool cap. He moved his knight.
“Checkmate.”
Motherf—
I sighed, tipped my king over in surrender and pulled my phone out.
Yasmine: Busy?
Me: Lil bit. What’s up?
Yasmine: Nothing.
Yasmine: Just checking in.
Me: You don’t “just check in.”
Yasmine: I do sometimes.
Me: Not really.
Yasmine: …
Yasmine: Can I call you?
“Again?” Harry asked.
I pushed back from the table. “Not this time. I gotta run.”
Harry leaned back. “Problems?”
“No.”
His attention dropped to the phone in my hand, then came back to me.
“Girl?”
“Woman.”
He snorted. “That so.”
I slipped the phone back in my pocket. “Her name’s Yasmine.”
“Serious?”
I didn’t have an answer ready.
Harry smiled, sun catching on his cedar skin, the lines around his eyes deepening. He waved a hand at the board. “Go on then. Don’t keep her waiting.”
I started toward the path, then stopped. “Same time Saturday?”
He didn’t look up, already resetting his board, his hands quick and practiced. “Mm.”
I shook my head and kept walking, lifting a hand to his caretaker on the way out. He nodded back from behind his book.
By the time I hit the sidewalk I was already calling her.
“Hey,” she said.
Her voice was steady but there was strain under it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine. Mostly.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing really.” A quiet exhale. “Nothing new.”
“Your family?”
“My mother had CeeCee over for dinner. Shaun was there. They hadn’t planned on me being there and we had… words.”
I slowed to a stop. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Come over,” I said. “Stay with me tonight.”
“I’m fine, Hale. I just wanted to hear your voice for a second.”
“Come anyway. Let me pick you up.” I wanted her close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to know the steadiness in her voice wasn’t costing her too much.
I waited.
Then, finally, “Okay.”
“Thirty minutes?”
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
The line clicked off.
Across the park, Harry caught me standing there like a fool. I shook my head and started walking.
Serious.