Page 52 - WTP VOl. X #3

Everything Flirts (continued from preceding page)
rassing. Then he redeems himself. He looks around, sees no one else has noticed, and whispers, “Sorry. Have I been eating your cards?” The British accent is perfect for this line.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone, now I’m winning,” I whis- per back.
“Shall I eat this one, too?”
I pretend to consider this. It’s Jacob’s turn; mine is next. “No, that one’s correct. I’ll play it.” I haven’t a clue whether this or any other play is correct, but by the grace of Rajiv it is, and Terry, who also hasn’t a clue, is impressed.
“Ah, Tess knows the rule,” Rajiv says. “See, someone got it, you guys are just novices.”
This forces me to pay some attention to the cards. Everyone is eager now, one of us has it, the others don’t want to lose face. Especially me. Come on, brain, we are all thinking, giddyap, get to it. You can almost hear the snapping of whips. To my great excitement
I discover a nice pattern: the numbers on red cards increase, while blacks descend. When it’s my turn
I place the card so confidently that Rajiv almost doesn’t look at it. It’s wrong.
Jacob immediately challenges my brief reign of supe- riority, asking what my rule was, if I had one. In any- one else this would be unbearably obnoxious, but as an ex-roommate he has earned some of the privileges of siblings, we insult each other at will. I point out my pattern, only now proved wrong, and ask if he has seen it. He hasn’t. Anna is smug, Rajiv pleased, Terry more impressed. “Nice,” Jacob says. “It’s a better rule than yours, Rajiv.”
“Now, now, Jacob...”
The rule, which in the end no one gets, turns out to use only the numbers of the cards. It is a sliding win- dow of opportunity: two though five, three through six, four through seven, cycling around. “We should have gotten that,” Jacob says. “Wouldn’t we have got- ten that before? We’re getting stupid.”
~
During a break between gods, the topic of Alex comes up. There have, not surprisingly, been rumors among the physicists. Jacob hasn’t after all forgotten that I was supposed to be in Europe. He tries to draw me discreetly aside to talk, but I don’t cooperate: I find I want to tell my story where Terry can hear it. In the end, everyone gathers round. Those who were casu- ally eavesdropping stop pretending to study Jacob’s bookshelves. Anna, in the kitchen getting drinks, comes running out to hug me. I tell her I am fine and give my easy summary of events, the flipping of Alex’s heart due to that classic human complication, the other woman. “He’ll be back,” Jacob says confidently. That’s what everyone says, and I believed it for the first month.
“No, this is it, it’s over,” I say sadly but with convic- tion. For Terry’s sake, I realize even as I say this.
“Tess, that’s crazy. The guy’s gone temporarily insane. He’ll get tired of her and then he’ll be back.” It is mildly flattering that so many people believe only insanity could account for Alex’s leaving me.
Anna is more perceptive. “Don’t you want him back?” She has me cornered. I can’t say, even in front of Terry, that I don’t.
“It isn’t up to me,” I say. Which is true.
The game continues, with a different seating arrange- ment. Jacob and Anna sit together, occasionally touch- ing. I wonder if they are seeing each other again. I smile a little and look across the circle for Alex, to catch his eye, see if he’s noticed. He’s never missed a game before. Greta and Fritz continue to rub socks. Terry concentrates fixedly on the cards and almost outscores Rajiv. Rajiv sits next to me; my good show- ing during his rule has caught his attention. But for the rest of the game I am distracted: by Terry, by wondering about Anna and Jacob, by a sudden fit of specific loneliness, lock and key, the key lost. I don’t guess any of the other rules, and Rajiv gradually
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