Page 51 - WTP VOl. X #3

seem to notice the bites missing from the bread, the tooth scrapes in the butter marking this food as mine. I feel briefly possessive of the plate, think of moving it away from him. But I don’t. I’m curious: what does he mean by this? Will he do it again?
The seven of diamonds has been played, correctly, then the nine. The only pattern left to me is red cards in increasing value, but no, Fritz plays the seven
of clubs. Jacob says no way, but God insists this is correct. “Aha,” Anna says, and tries another seven
of clubs. Jacob calls this a cowardly move but Rajiv declares it wrong, placing it under the correct seven, and Jacob apologizes. “You don’t know everything,” Anna says. “I don’t know this rule,” Jacob says. Dan plays another nine of diamonds, correct, which meets with groans. “I don’t know this rule because there are no clues!” Jacob says. It is his turn. There’s a long wait while he ponders a move that tests a wor- thy hypothesis. He pulls out a card face down, purses his lips, wobbles his head, hmms a bit, and finally re- veals yet another seven, this time hearts. “No!” Anna says, while Jacob protests, “It had to be tested!” Rajiv moves the seven under the nine of diamonds. “You see? Now we know the move isn’t determined by the number of the last card played!” Anna rolls her eyes in mock disgust.
It’s my turn next and I have no idea what to play. A fresh start is needed. There are no sevens in my hand, no nine of diamonds, so it’s safe to pick a card at random. I pull out a queen of spades, which I’m convinced is wrong. It’s right. We are all confused.
Jacob and Anna, across from each other in the circle, continue their mock debate on the necessity of re- peating experiments. Rajiv smiles mysteriously. Fritz rubs Greta’s feet through her socks. Terry eats all the food on my plate without once looking at me. I am shocked by this. At one point I pick up a carrot stick, bite it, and put it down again, to see if he will take it. He does. Never noticing a thing. He locates the plate by peripheral vision and touch. With each raid on my food his fingers brush the floor, slide to the rim of the plate, pick up something, and raise it to his lips. He touches each piece of food lightly with his tongue before biting.
When all the food is gone, his hand comes again. I put a card on the edge of the plate. Terry’s fingers tap and lift. The card is almost to his open mouth when his expression changes. He stares at his hand, at the plate, at me. This is hopeless, I think, how embar-
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“It seems there is a list in the back of my mind, a
list of men who might have been, men I might have dat- ed, had I been single. I don’t always know who is on it.”
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