09.16.07
The Secret of the Chess Set
On the coffee table rests a quaint chess set. Stained Stradivarius-red by the craftsman, the wooden box has a glass top with alternating dark and light squares to serve as the battlefield. A flick of the oriental brass lock would reveal the two royal couples with their officers and sentinels – all of them in their glassy state against a bed of black velvet… and fostered alongside the thirty-two, is the secret.
This curio will ostensibly thrive as a family heirloom. But people will never know that I did not purchase this objet d’art for that intention. They will be ignorant of the truth that I acquired it for you. Yet, the farcical verity is that you do not know, too.
I bought it years ago. To perpetuate the smiles we exchanged during a game that ended in a draw. To hold dear the pleasurable memory of scrutinizing every strand of hair on that intelligent head, your face, and your youthful smile as you
pondered on your moves. To memorialize the day I wore pink when my
wardrobe consisted mostly of black. To remember that like the pieces, we each need a higher power to guide us in every move we make. To commemorate the eternal draw – that despite our differences and inadequacies we are equals.
Nevertheless, cowardice held me back. Circumstances convinced me it was improper to give it to you… and you went away… unknowing…
…and it still sits there… nothing but a piece of nostalgia. So the kings, the queens, bishops, knights, towers, and pawns, will whisper the royal secret
among themselves everytime one crosses the other’s path along the checkered etched glass… but they will never tell anyone… not even you.
