The Faraway Chess Game

"See, and now it's your turn."

She dragged her fingers across the board, clumsily brushing each wooden piece before deciding on grabbing a Knight.

"I like horsies."

"You've mentioned."

She slid the bold, black Knight five squares forward, decimating any hope I had for myself as a successful instructor.

"No, that's wrong."

"Oh. Woops! Sorry. I knew that. I knew that."

Without making direct eye contact with me, she leaned forward to once again take hold of the Knight, and returned it to its original location. She flicked her eyes around the board for a bit, and it was clear she was getting bored— the shred of interest that may have been there before, was gone. I didn't let on that I noticed.

"L Shape."

As if a curse she had once heard spewed before, she instantly scooted the piece one square towards me, and two squares to my right. She then looked up at me. I tried to genuinely look at her, too. But I was lost, in the game. I needed to be lost in the game.

"Do you miss your girlfriend?"

I didn't hear that. I stared intently at my white Bishop. It needed to be moved. It needed space; it needed to be free. So I moved it, far away. I tilted my chin up a slight amount, to see if her hands were once again dragging across the board. They were not.

"I bet you miss her alot."

She was no longer playing. I wanted to cry.

"Your move."

Without thought, she willed a Pawn to crawl forward.

Only one space. Without thought.

It just happened so fast.

"Do you want to kiss her right now?"

I scratched the back of my neck and smiled out of pain. I rested my aching fingertips gently on top of my King, standing so firmly protected in the folds of white-and-black squares. I looked to my Queen, positioned so delicately within enemy lines. My Pawns, arranged expertly, formed an unbreakable fortress of wooden pieces that belonged solely to me. The Rooks sat untouched, unneeded, and The Bishop stood alone, having escaped from the confines of my own construction. And then, yes, I even glanced at my Knight, so lovable and unloved.

Then I breathed.

"Yes, Meghan. I want to kiss her."

And flipped my King, who, for the first time, felt the floor.