Chapter 6
Chess

On Sunday, the scab on my knuckle was gone, replaced by a mostly pink scar. I rubbed it again trying not to think about how quickly it had healed.

Mom and I grudgingly agreed to head to church with Sis. Justine could be pretty persuasive, especially when the other option was to stay home with John. I used to go about once a month, but lately I went more and more just because it was another excuse to get out of the house.

The three hours of church came and went painfully. I was relieved to step out of church and breathe in the outside air—at least until I felt something tug on my chest.

Ouch. I rubbed at my chest through my white church shirt. Who’s watching me now? Everyone was leaving church, and there were too many people to pick out one pair of eyes in the crowd. A mom was running after her little boy, shouting at him to stay out of the parking lot. I could hear the chatter of people talking and cars starting. I tensed my muscles, wanting to get out of there fast, but the only place to go was home, and I would trade going home for being watched any day.

The tugging on my chest snapped as we drove the half-mile to my house. I wished the drive were longer than a half-mile, but churches in Salt Lake are like gas stations; there’s one on almost every corner.

As we walked into the house, John was watching golf in the front room. I’d been hoping he would be hiding away in his den when we got home. That left me without the Xbox or the DVR. I swore under my breath.

“Hey,” Sis said, smacking me on the arm.

“What?” I responded. “Isn’t golf a swearing sport?” I laughed.

Mom witnessed our interaction and glanced at John. She took a breath then asked, “John, could you watch that in your den?”

He glanced back at Mom, his eyebrows pulled low. “The hell I will,” John responded. The tension immediately elevated.

Uh oh. This was going to be another yelling match.

My sister and I hurried upstairs. I wanted out of my shirt, slacks, and tie as soon as possible anyway. Mom and John shouted back and forth for about an hour before John shut himself in his den. I hated John. I think the only reason my mom and John were still together was because his structured settlement gave her stability. I still don’t know how he got a settlement. I’ve never seen him act injured or hurt at all. Except for being as round as a globe, he seemed perfectly healthy. If only the drunk driver had killed him instead of only supposedly injuring him, the settlement would be all my mom’s and we’d all be better off. Even though it was true, I felt guilty for thinking like that.

I pulled off my church clothes and put on some shorts and a tank top. Sis knocked. I let her in. She’d put on her comfy, pink pants. I think the white camisole she wore was the same one she’d worn to church under her dress. I shut the door behind her because I could hear Mom and John still yelling at each other.

Sis and I watched a movie in my room on my laptop. I let her pick the movie again. She chose an old Eighties chick flick called Some Kind of Wonderful. I think Sis caught me smiling when the main character Keith gave Watts the earrings.

Sis had her date with Dylan that evening, and I was unwilling to venture into the war zone downstairs just to play Xbox, so I went over to Luiz’s and played chess against him and Mr. Espinoza, his dad. I tried really hard to win; I really did. They took turns playing me, and they each checkmated me twice.

“The trick, Jacob,” Mr. Espinoza offered, “is to always have a second way to attack.” He spoke with a Spanish accent, saying ees instead of is. Mr. Espinoza was probably thirty pounds overweight and had the same black hair as Luiz, but Luiz, at five-ten, had outgrown his dad by a couple inches.

“Always have a second wave of attack planned,” he continued. “If your first wave is blocked, use your second. Then always have a last resort. Three waves.” Somehow, I got the feeling that this suggestion went beyond chess and blended into the challenges of life.

“I can barely mount a good first wave of attack,” I laughed. Honestly, I wasn’t that bad. I could hold my own against anyone else on the school chess team except Luiz. “I want to see you play each other,” I told them.

¡Por supuesto!” Luiz answered, and they started a game. Luiz still hadn’t beaten his dad—ever—but their game was taking longer than all four of mine put together. About a decade ago, Luiz’s dad was the first Mexican ever to be ranked number one in the world in chess. I paid attention and learned a few moves for next time.

After they’d traded a few pieces, Mr. Espinoza started coughing hard, and Mrs. Espinoza came in and helped him up. She was a short round woman with black hair and soft, motherly eyes.

Discúlpanos,” Mrs. Espinoza said, excusing them both as she helped her husband to the kitchen. I glanced at Luiz, but he didn’t say anything. He seemed to be concentrating on his next move.

“Is everything OK?” I asked when they returned.

“Fine,” all three of them answered at the same time. But Mr. Espinoza didn’t look fine. His face looked pale, and his eyes were droopy.

“Why don’t you play for me, Jacob?” Mr. Espinoza suggested, and he and his wife headed to bed.

“Is your dad OK?” I asked Luiz again.

He looked away from me as he spoke. “Yeah, he just has la gripe.” That meant the flu. “Take over for my dad.” Luiz pointed to the chess set. “You might win.”

“I’ll try.”

The game lasted longer, but I gave up my queen on a foolish move. “You’re forked!” Luiz laughed, using the chess version of the F-word. It went downhill after that. Luiz wiped my pieces one by one. “Checkmate!” he grinned at me.

We hung out for another hour chatting about football and girls and our upcoming senior year before I headed home. I played video games on my laptop till 2:00 a.m. before checking if Sis got home from her date with Dylan. She was already asleep, so I went to sleep, too, and happily did not dream of my biological father.