Dead Man

“My pa-pére taught me to play this game,” she said. “My grandfather. Is this one of those chess problems he used to tell me about?”

“No,” said Dain. “This is just an unfinished game...”

Without visible hesitation, he pulled up a chair across from her and sat down. He leaned forward, studying the board.

“It got interrupted and Marie and I never got back to it.”

Vangie moved a piece. Dain countered. With a sudden soft thud, Shenzie landed on the corner of the coffee table and sat watching the play intently. His black tail with the white tip was twined loosely down around one leg of the table.

“He wishes he had hands,” said Vangie.

“So he can be an engineer when he grows up,” said Dain.

“Check,” said Vangie.

The three of them studied the board intently for a long while, Dain seeking a way to avoid checkmate. Then Shenzie reached out a tiny black and white hand and knocked over one of Dain’s pieces. It happened to be his king.

He and Vangie laughed together. He felt as if he were coming up to the surface of a sunlit sea after a very long time in cold green depths where no light ever penetrated.

They went back into the bedroom to celebrate again what they had found. As they celebrated, Shenzie went to sleep in the middle of the chessboard, the pieces he had knocked aside littering the tabletop like miniature overturned grave markers.