Age Twenty-One
Walking under the cover of the canopy of trees at the entry of the park, I shove my hands into my jeans keeping a leisurely pace. A lone bird swoops in from above, catching my eye as it flies overhead before landing on one of the low-hanging branches. Eyes fixed on the bird, I feel his watchful return stare following my progress as I stroll past. My mind wars with the significance of its appearance as my gut tries to decipher if it’s a warning or a signal to keep going. I decide on the latter, walking further along the outskirts of the park. It doesn’t take me long to spot the group of men gathered in pairs at a cluster of tables, most of them older, mid-to late-sixties. All of them are situated across from each other, chessboards in between. Only one man sits alone, the pieces on his board scattered as if mid-game, the chair opposite of him empty. Pulse kicking up, I take the last few strides positioning myself amongst them before sliding into the vacant chair. The men surrounding us don’t so much as spare me a glance, too immersed in their own games.
The man I’m sitting across from doesn’t acknowledge my presence in the slightest when I survey him, his face etched with years of wear, deep lines in his forehead and around his lips. His thick, greying hair is on the longer side, and his worn clothes are slightly wrinkled—as if he gave no thought about his appearance and simply rolled out of bed. He situates the board pieces delicately, caressing each one with the pads of his fingers before releasing them as he sets them back to their starting position on the worn board.
Seeming satisfied with his ritual, he finally lifts eyes—the color of mine—to sweep me with the same careful inspection. His lips twitch in amusement at the slip of my expression due to our likeness, a clear familial relation.
Since I’ve been in France, and due to whispers about my birth father, I’ve grown more curious about the man he was before his sickness claimed him. I’ve discovered some sparse details from Antoine, who was, from what I gathered, at one point in time his associate when my parents were together. My father was, in essence, an executor of orders for the highest bidder. Many feared Abijah. Some respected him. As a thousand questions bud on my tongue, I don’t dare ask them. I’m here on invitation, and I’m not about to fuck it up with my curiosity before I find out why the invite was extended.
He wasn’t on the exhaustive list of contacts Delphine so carefully constructed for me—that consisted mostly of my mother’s relatives—all of whom are former activists, and very few on my birth father’s side. In truth, he’s an unlikely ally. Skepticism takes hold for his motivations, but I know without a doubt I’m staring at Abijah’s father, my grandfather. Someone I would never have considered to enlist help from in any form, the fear ingrained inside of me when I was young. The notion embedded deeply by my mother that Abijah was a man I should never be curious about or seek out in any capacity. Because of that, I’ve rarely, if ever, given much thought to his extended family.
As we study each other, some part of me recognizes the possibility that because my mother fled France—taking Abijah’s only son while abandoning him completely for another man—that it may have caused an indirect grudge for all involved, including me.
I weigh his expression closely for any trace of that grudge or resentment. Instead, I find something resembling joy in his eyes as if he’s been thirsty for the sight of me all of these years.
But maybe it’s not me he sees as he stares back at me, but the ghost of my birth father, a son he lost to mental illness long ago. I can sense an inkling of that bond now as I stare back at him. A bond I had at one point with the man who raised me and that I now have with my brother.
The spring sun begins to beat down on our heads as the morning clouds part, lighting up the board.
“Se voir accorder le premier déplacement est per?u par certains comme un avantage. Je considère que c’est mon avantage. Avec ce seul coup, je peux souvent dire si mon adversaire est agressif ou non. Fais le premier pas, Ezekiel, je suis assez curieux de voir.” Being granted the first move is seen by some as advantage. I consider it my advantage. With that one move, I can often tell whether my opponent is aggressive or not. Do make the first move, Ezekiel. I am quite curious to see.