The anticipation was like a heart-racing crescendo in a horror movie score, as Joel's first day at Oakland Prep loomed closer. Rachel, ever the nurturer, sensed the storm brewing in her son's chest. His pale cheeks would be even paler now, if that were possible, and the twinkle in his sapphire-blue eyes had dimmed like stars swallowed by dawn. She knew the drill, the dance of words and comfort she'd have to perform to ease his anxiety. But this time, she pulled out the big guns. Joel desperately craved time with his father, doing anything that would give cause to provide even a glimmer of encouragement.
"Robert?" Rachel called out to her husband, the master of calm under pressure.
Robert leaned into the living room from the kitchen where he was making himself a sandwich. "What is it, dear? I'm making my lunch."
"When you finish, would you please make some time to challenge Joel to a game?" Robert knew Rachel's request wasn't really a request. "He's stressing out about school starting soon, so he's been downstairs pacing a rut into the carpet all morning, with Lulu following his every step. Maybe it'll take his mind off things for a little while, and give you guys some quality time together."
"Yes, dear." His voice flat and emotionless.
Robert went back to making his sandwich. When he finished, he made another. He grabbed another dish from the cupboard, placing it on top of the one he already had out. He stacked the two sandwiches on the plates and grabbed a few napkins.
tap tap Robert knocked on the door to Joel's apartment.
A low, muffled woof came from inside, then silence.
thunk thunk He knocked louder. "Joel!" Robert called him through the door.
The louder knock put Lulu on high alert. She erupted in a series of sharp, insistent barks.
The door flung open. "Dad?" Joel's face beamed, and his surprised voice echoed up the stairs into Rachel's ears. A sad smile appeared on her face. "Come in!" Rachel heard the excitement in Joel's voice and Lulu was barking, her tail wagging; her smile became less sad.
"Hungry?" Robert's voice was still flat. He held the plates out for Joel to see. "I made one for myself, so I thought you might like one."
"Sure, thank you! Come in!" Joel motioned to the table near the kitchen. He was overjoyed; this was Robert's first visit to his new space. Lulu, upon seeing Robert, immediately stopped wagging. She gave his pant leg a cursory sniff, let out a soft huff, and retreated to sit by Joel's shins, her eyes fixed on Robert.
Robert set the sandwiches down on the table before pulling out a chair nearest the door, through which he had just entered. He sat down, rearranging the sandwiches on their individual plates, then setting one in front of Joel’s chair as Lulu sniffed his pant leg.
"Thirsty, Dad? Let me get you a drink! Do you want a Coke?" Joel excitedly looked in the fridge. "I have Coke, Orange... Uh, I have Coke or Orange!"
"Water's fine, thank you." Robert replied as he scanned Joel's apartment, his eyes lingering for a moment on the dog. "Looks like you're settled in."
"Oh, yeah! I've been working dawn to dusk since we got here.” His eyes darted around his space. “Ugh, moving is a lot of work! I don’t recommend it. I still have lots more to do, but I’m making progress." Joel dropped a single ice cube into the glass before filling it with water and heading over to the table. "Here you are, Dad. Just the way you like it, not too cold." Joel took his chair opposite Robert. His face beamed, brighter than his hot pink hoodie, at the sight of his father sitting at HIS table. "Oh, I’m a terrible host! Can I get you anything else? How about some chips? I have chips! You want some chips, Dad?"
Joel started to get up from the table when Robert stopped him. "No, no chips, Joel, thank you."
The excitement began fading from Joel's face. "Oh... okay." Then he perked up again as he sat back down. "Thanks for the sandwich, Dad! I didn't realize how hungry I was." Following Robert's lead, he took a bite from his sandwich. Smiling at Robert, "Mmm, this is good!" His cheeks looked like a squirrel’s who’d found their winter stash of nuts.
Robert’s eyes furrowed. "Don't talk with your mouth full, son." Casually scolding Joel, in his flat tone.
Joel shrunk in his seat, swallowed hard, and replied sheepishly, "Sorry, Dad." His initial excitement for Robert's visit completely faded. They finished their sandwiches in silence. Lulu, sensing the shift, lay down at Joel's feet, her head on her paws, her eyes locked on Robert.
Robert wiped the corners of his mouth, took a sip of his water, and asked, "You up for a game?" His voice still as flat as the bread they'd just eaten. There was no need to specify which game, they only played one.
Joel’s eyes snapped up from his plate, bright and wide. "Really? Sure!" He jumped up from his chair, running to the other end of the apartment, Lulu's nails clicking on the floor as she scrambled up to follow. He frantically dug around in a box that was sitting on the floor between his gaming system and a massive, floor-to-ceiling shelf spanning the length of the end wall, holding his entire collection of books.
Joel had never beaten his dad, but he always enjoyed the game, and their time together. Even though it was quiet time. It was always quiet. Robert never spoke during a game. Not audibly anyway. His eyes said more than words ever could.
Once retrieved, Joel rushed the game back to the table, setting it down in front of Robert with a big smile. He sat in his chair, on his knees, leaning in on his folded arms, on the table, trying to find the best angle of view. He watched wide-eyed as Robert set up the chess pieces, one by one, with mind-blowing grace and precision. His hands moved swiftly from box to board and back again, until every piece was set precisely in the center of their respective squares. Then, Robert took a pawn in each hand, one white, one black. He put his hands under the table, moving the pieces around in his hands, then bringing them up and holding out his hands toward Joel. "Choose," he stated flatly.
Joel stuck out his tongue, licking his lips, as his eyes darted back and forth between Robert's patient hands. Joel knew the odds of getting white, but he always gave the decision due contemplation anyway. "Hmm..." Full of nervous energy, he held out his little white hand, pointing, and hesitantly touching the top of his father's right hand. "Hmm... This one!" he said, quickly looking up at his father’s eyes to see his thoughts. Joel’s white eyebrows furrowed as he thought to himself, Hmm, nothing... same as always. Robert flipped over his right hand, revealing the black pawn. Joel frowned. "Humph," making his disappointment unmistakably clear as he spun the board around to its correct orientation.
The pieces clicked and clacked on the board like a Morse code of silent understanding as the game unfolded. Joel’s heart raced, each move a declaration of his intellectual might. Robert, ever stoic, his eyes squinted slightly with each of Joel's unorthodox moves, his mind racing through the possibilities like a chess supercomputer.
Robert’s usual game was as predictable as the sunrise; he followed strategies that had been laid down over centuries of human wisdom. Yet here he was, his son, an immature teenager in his view, challenging him with moves so avant-garde, it was like watching Picasso play with a Rubik's Cube. Joel’s pawns danced across the board like they were auditioning for Swan Lake, while his knights pirouetted into positions that seemed more suited for a game of Twister. It was a veritable ‘Game of Thrones’.
Robert’s eyes narrowed as he studied the board, trying to discern the method to Joel’s madness. Joel’s love for fashion was no secret, but it was finally becoming clear to Robert, that his son's creativity extended far beyond his daily outfit choices. He made his move, placing his bishop in a spot that would surely put Joel in checkmate. Or so he thought.
Joel’s grin grew as he took a deep breath, his mind racing with excitement. He had been waiting for this moment, the moment where he could finally show his father, that he wasn’t just a pretty face with a penchant for designer duds. He was a force to be reckoned with, a master strategist in his own right. With a dramatic flourish, Joel gleefully set down his rook, capturing Robert’s unsuspecting knight. "Check," he declared, his voice quivering with excitement.
Robert blinked, his stoic mask slipping for a fraction of a second before it snapped back into place. Joel didn't miss it. In his mind he was jumping up and down, screaming, 'Oh my god, I just might pull this off!' He was using every bit of energy he had in his bones to contain his excitement. He scrutinized Robert's eyes, looking for another sign of weakness.
In a shockingly rare show of doubt, Robert muttered, "Hmm," as he studied the board, his mind a flurry of calculations, trying to find a way to counter Joel’s unorthodox play style. "Interesting choice," he murmured, his eyes darting between the pieces.
Did I just see lightning strike twice? Twice in one game? Joel’s mind was exploding with shock and awe, as he watched his father's usual rock-steady demeanor falter before his very eyes. He knew he was pushing boundaries with every non-traditional move he made. This is monumental! Unprecedented! Like the War of Independence! This was his moment to shine, to show Robert that he too had depth, that he was more than just the facade of white and bling. He took his time with his next move, placing his queen in a seemingly vulnerable position.
Robert eyed Joel over the rim of the glass, as he took a sip of his, now tepid, water. Setting it down, he then looked over the rim of his glasses. "You're playing... differently today," he said, his typically flat tone now contained a tiny mix of curiosity and challenge.
Joel's eyes widened at his stoic father’s words. Oh my god, a third time? Is Mercury in Retrograde? His hand hovered over the board; his blushed cheeks betrayed his calm demeanor. "Well, Dad. Sometimes, you know, you gotta switch it up," he replied, trying to keep his voice from also betraying him.
"Checkmate." Joel's voice was calm, but his blood pressure was skyrocketing as Robert's king was surrounded, unable to escape the relentless siege of Joel's pawns and bishops.
The clock ticked like a gong in the quiet room. Robert took his time, his eyes darting from piece to piece, contemplating his response. His frustration began to show, ever so slightly, causing Joel's heart to thump harder as he read his father's eyes. Lulu, sensing the tension, lifted her head from her paws, her gaze fixed on Robert.
Robert sat back, his eyes narrowed. "Hmm," he murmured, not quite a question, not quite an accusation. It was the closest Joel had ever seen him to showing genuine emotion. Robert tipped his king and examined the board one last time, as if he were memorizing it. Then he stood up, looked at Joel with his own sapphire blues, and said, "Good game, son." He collected the plates he’d brought with him, looked at Joel again, whose face was beaming with pride, and winked, before turning toward the door.