He studied me for a moment. I didn’t know what he was looking for but whatever it was, he’d decided what he’d decided and it was obvious I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Good then,” he finally offered and opened the front door, leaving it open behind us.
“Don’t you want to lock it?” Salinger called after him.
He moaned something unintelligible and waved Salinger’s comment away. Salinger snorted and closed the door. We practically had to sprint to catch up to him. He meandered through streets, mumbling to himself, and reached a little shop called the Café Du Monde.
“Come on,” he said, waving us on, “I haven’t got all day.”
“You don’t work, Bernie,” Salinger teased him. “You do have all day.”
The old man whipped around, his robe flowing around him as he did so. He raised a finger up at him and frowned the most comical frown. He opened his mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, and dropped his finger.
When Bernie opened the door to the shop, people looked up only to widen their eyes then raised their newspapers or hid behind their coffee cups or found the ceiling very interesting. I wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. He scared me. He amused me, but he scared me a little more.
Bernie bypassed the line, which shocked me, but not a single patron complained or even gave a dirty look. He was expected and he was tolerated, it was apparent.
A young man reached over the countertop and handed Bernie a large bag along with seven coffees to go. Seven? All were wrapped elegantly and ready for transport.
Bernie grabbed the bags, slapped cash down on the countertop, and turned.
“See you tomorrow, Bernie!” the boy shouted after us as we fought to keep up with the old man.
Bernard grunted in reply and, like a tornado, left Café Du Monde behind him.
Salinger glanced at me as we raced down the street back toward Bernard’s house and lifted his shoulders in question. I opened my mouth wide in disbelief and tried not to laugh.
“Taking too long, ya rascals,” he griped.
We picked it up and edged closer to him. He threw the bags in Salinger’s hands and signaled for me to meet his stride, so I did.
“Salinger said you’re pretty good. Is that true?”
“I don’t know,” I answered him.
Bernard stopped abruptly again. “You don’t know?” he asked, finally meeting my eyes for the first time that morning.
“Only enough to know I’ve beaten every software I’ve ever played a-and Salinger,” I explained.
When I said his name, Salinger playfully reacted like I’d punched him in the face. Sorry, I mouthed.
“Hmph,” Bernard said and started forward again.
We walked into his house to find four other old men sitting in the chairs I’d noticed in Bernard’s sitting room.
“It’s about time!” one of the old men shouted, standing up. “What do we have here?” he said when he noticed Salinger and me.
“Carl,” Bernard said, pointing to an African American gentleman with a shock of white hair tucked under a golf cap.
“How’d you do?” he said, tipping his hat.
I smiled at him.
“Gus,” Bernard said, pointing to another little old man. Gus was either a little younger or in better shape than the others. He stood up and shook my and Salinger’s hands. He wore trousers with a button-up and suspenders.
“Abe,” Bernard said as he introduced the third old man. Abe looked of Spanish descent and wore a guayabera shirt along with a pair of linen pants and sandals. He had a glint in his eye that told me he was probably up to no good a lot as a young man.
“Nice to meet you, hija,” he said, taking my hand with a smile.
“This is Ralph,” Bernard said, pointing at the fourth and final gentleman. Ralph was wheelchair-bound and dressed the smartest with a bow tie, jacket, and button-up, and topped off his ensemble with a straw fedora. I didn’t know how he fit in the room, but you could see where they’d carved out a spot for him.
All the men there, you could tell, were comfortable and must have spent most of their days there with grumpy Bernard.
“A pleasure,” Ralph greeted us sweetly.
Salinger and I scaled the newspapers to shake his hand.
“Clean this damn place up already, Bernard,” Carl chimed in, plopping into a chair and surfing through the scant, blurry channels Bernard’s old TV would produce.
“Oh shut up, will you?” Bernard complained.
He gave Salinger a little push and indicated to him that he wanted the bags dropped on the small foyer table in the hall right outside the crowded sitting room. Carl and Abe grabbed some paper plates and opened the bags, doling out beignets and passing them over to Ralph, Gus, and Bernard.
“There you are, hija,” Abe said, offering me a plate.
“Thank you,” I told him.
Carl offered me a chair at the side of the room and I started to sit.
“No! No!” Bernard yelled.
“What?” I asked, frightened.
“Sit here,” he said, pointing to the chair across from him at the chess table.
My heart beat in my throat. “Okay,” I said, sitting down.
“You play?” Carl asked me, sitting nearby.
“Yes, sir.”
“Salinger’s told me she’s the best he’s ever played, including me.”
Bernard raised an eyebrow at Salinger.
“Just wait, old man. You’ll see.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see this,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together.
“Whoa, whoa, that’s a lot of pressure,” I said, feeling a little hot.
“Don’t worry, baby girl. You’re here for fun. Have fun. Don’t over think it,” Gus told me before taking a bite of his beignet.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, let’s go then.”
“You don’t mind if I play white, do you?” Bernard asked.
“Of course not,” I told him.
Bernard spun the board around with ease, like he’d done it thousands of times.
“What is the first move, though,” Gus teased Bernard, “if it’s answered properly?” he finished, winking at me.
I looked to my left, at Salinger. He gave me a small smile and a head nod to encourage me.
“Need him, do you? Lack confidence, do you?” Bernard asked. He avoided eye contact and sat back, cleaning his reading glasses with the edge of his robe.
I swallowed.
“Nice, friendly, casual game, mind you. I just want to see what you’re made of,” he commented.
Nf3 Bernard scooted to the end of his chair. Without hesitation, he moved.
Nf6 That was his favorite move. I could see it in his eyes, in the slight tilt of his mouth.
I took a solid breath, left the room around me, and glanced at the board. I saw my usual grid, my invisible lines, the pure potential. I ran hundreds of tactics instantly through my mind, but pushed them aside. Wait, I thought. I repaid in kind.
c4 He smiled at me and moved his pawn.
g6 I knew this opening. I flipped through my mental catalog and processed all potentials then moved.
Nc3 He expected this. His next move, I expected as well.
Bg7 Bishop, I thought.
d4 Bernard yawned, mumbled about the time of morning, and picked up a pawn.
O-O King’s Indian.
Bf4 Bernard’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing.
Abe and Gus leaned into one another and said something, though I couldn’t hear it.
Bernard countered.
d5 What are you doing, Bernard? Finally, I moved to the center.
Qb3 Bernard took a sip of coffee then moved.
dxc4 He was trying to throw off my pawn structure. I closed my eyes and imagined the board, shifting pieces in my mind and predicting tactic.
Qxc4 I further entrenched my pawn. Bernard moved.
c6 This was what I expected.
e4 I brought out another pawn. As did Bernard.
Nbd7 Bernard thought he owned the center. I could see it in his face. I took a deep breath.
Rd1 Bernard looked at me like I was an idiot.
Nb6 I countered.
Qc5 He leaned back in his chair a little and made his next move.
Bg4 My turn.
Bg5 “A pin is mightier than the sword,” Abe whispered, and the other men chuckled beneath their breath.
We ignored them and I waited for Bernard. He moved.
Na4 His center made vulnerable to me. I moved my knight.
Qa3 Bernard cleared his throat, the first sign he felt slightly uncomfortable. He moved his queen.
Nxc3