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Her bishop to a6, taking my pawn. My queen to e5, taking her pawn. Her rook to e1. I quickly move my queen out of the way, back to d6.
“I mean that the system benefits men. That much is true.” I nod. “But how does it brainwash women into believing that their desires are more important, even if they’re evil.”
“Not everyone is evil.”
“A lot of them are, though,” she tells me, and it occurs to me that although we’re bonding over our shared trauma, she’s still been through more than I have at more hands. That doesn’t make her trauma any more or less important, but it’s still something to be sensitive about.
Her rook to e8. My queen to d7. Her bishop to f4. My king is in danger.
My queen moves between them, blocking the way at d6. Her rook takes mine at h8.
“You know, I worked for years and years to forget.”
We both look at the board, trying to figure out our next moves. I could easily take her rook, eliminating it from the board and getting rid of the danger to my king. Her bishop could take mine, and I’d be forced to move my king. But my queen would take it, and it would be off the board.
“Every year after things happened, I told myself that I would just forget it. Like it was some sort of affirmation. One day, if I said it enough times, I would.” I pause, my head tilting as I keep studying the board. “And I did. I did forget it eventually. I found that, eventually, I wouldn’t think about it every day. The time between thinking about it would grow. I’d go, “It’s been longer since the last time. I’m making progress.””
Jerry moves her hand to hover over her queen but realizes there’s no good place to move her.
“After years and years of little goals, I was finally able to stop thinking about it. Stop feeling his breath on me. Stop seeing his face when I went to sleep. I stopped hearing my mom make excuses for not listening to me. Something would always come up. Something would always be more important to deal with at the time. There was always a reason that I needed to go over to his house with them, no matter what.” I think I see a move, but I realize it wouldn’t do me any good, either.
Jerry leans back in her seat, her eyes on me as I keep looking for ways to win this. But she looks done.
“Mom was raised in the cult. One where she wasn’t respected. One where she had to be silent. And I’m willing to bet anything that the same things happened to her.”
I look up, meeting her eyes. The same green as mine. The same green as mom's.
“It’s a stalemate,” Jerry says simply, her arms crossed, not bothering to look at the board.
“It’s a stalemate,” I agree.
She blinks once. Blinks twice. Her nose twitches.
And then she reaches across the table, extending me her hand. I look at it for a long moment, trying to figure out her move. Trying to figure out her angle.
But I don’t think there is one.
I take it.
“We’re going to make that man regret the day he met you,” she tells me, her eyes hardening, her voice predatory.
My lips tip up just a touch. “I hope so,”
There’s a heavy silence between us, and we let it hang there for a long time. “Hey, how did you learn how to play chess?”
She smirks. “Mom gave me my first set that time she visited me. Told me to channel my frustration and hurt into chess. It would make the bad things hurt less."
I nod. She did the same thing for me.
TWENTY-TWO
RONAN
Three days have goneby since the call.
To say seeing Sydney and Jerry getting along is weird is an understatement, but it’s a pleasant surprise.
After their talk, Sydney came to find me. To apologize. I was befuddled, angry that she ever thought she had to apologize to me.
