The Memory Painter

“What was her name?” he asked gently.

“Grace.” Linz could feel the lump rising in her throat and swallowed. “She was from England … she came here to help curate the Egyptian Art collection.”

Dr. George Reisner had led the longest-running and most successful excavation in Egypt from 1905 to 1942, a joint effort by the MFA and Harvard. It had resulted in Boston becoming home to one of the largest collections of Egyptian artifacts in the world. Linz had thought it quite fitting that the visiting exhibit centered around Egypt too.

“When I was growing up, I would sometimes go there alone and pretend she was still here … that I would round a corner and bump into her,” Linz confessed, astounded she was sharing something so intimate with a stranger.

But he only nodded and said nothing. There were no knee-jerk condolences or sympathetic remarks. He simply accepted and understood.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

Linz felt like he was talking about more than the game.

“Your move,” he said.

She blushed and looked at the board, trying to recapture her determination to win. But as the game progressed, she began to realize it was pointless. He was unlike any player she had ever encountered. Most people mastered chess by remembering thousands of essential patterns and potential plays, but he played with no pattern, creating new ideas as he went. It was impossible for her to get ahead of him. Still, she retaliated with every tactical position and forced move in her arsenal. She caught him smiling on several occasions after one of her plays.

This went on forever. Neither said a word, until finally he spoke, “It’s going to be a draw.”

Linz checked the board, unwilling to admit defeat. A draw was not a win. But after a moment, she saw he was right. It irritated her that he had seen it first.

“I’m here every Friday if you want a rematch.”

She glanced up at him, trying to see what he meant by that. Was he signaling that he wanted to see her again? Because she wasn’t quite sure what to make of this whole encounter. But he was staring at the board again. Maybe the attraction she was feeling was all in her head.

Linz checked her watch and was startled to see that two hours had flown by. She had plans tonight and she needed to head home and change. She gathered her purse and stood.