“Je n’ai jamais joué.” I’ve never played.
Another twitch of lips and a flicker of what I perceive as pride shines clear in his eyes.
“La plupart répondraient, ‘Je ne peux pas jouer.’ Je préfère ta réponse.” Most would respond, ‘I can’t play.’ I like yours much better.
He takes a pawn and moves it two spaces diagonally before pulling it back in its starting place on the board.
“Tu ne peux avancer ton pion de deux cases que la première fois, une fois qu’il est en jeu, le pion ne peut se déplacer qu’une fois par tour. Lorsque tu retires tes doigts du pion, c’est joué, tu ne peux plus revenir en arrière.” Only the first time can you advance a pawn two spaces, once it’s in play, the pawn can only move once per turn. Once you remove your fingers from the pawn, it’s done, never to be pulled back.
He draws his brows in question, and I give him the slow dip of my chin in understanding. He speaks clear English with his next words. “I was very unhappy to hear about your first move.”
Antoine.
It’s the only conclusion I can draw.
I barely have time to register the implications of what he’s saying as he gestures back to the board. “Pay close attention, Ezekiel.”
He moves down the line, demonstrating the horizontal and vertical movement rules of each piece until I’ve grasped a mild understanding of them. He does this silently for several minutes as I watch on, rapt, paying close attention to the way he regards each piece.
“Vous considérez le pion comme le plus important?” You consider the pawn most important?
“Cela dépend de la connaissance du pion et de sa position. Et puis, l’union fait la force, n’est-ce pas?” It depends on the knowledge of the pawn and its position. And there’s a comfort in numbers, is there not?
The question is directly related to my reason for seeking help in France, which lets me know just how long he’s been aware of me and my quest here, and how deep his connections run. Shoving my pride aside, I admit the truth I’ve gathered through years of isolation here and nod. The time I feel most at peace is at home, surrounded by my brothers.
“Mais tu vois, s’il est correctement positionné, le pion seul peut devenir l’une des pièces les plus puissantes du plateau, et a la capacité de mettre le Roi en échec.” But you see, if positioned correctly, the pawn alone can become one of the most powerful pieces on the board and has the ability to check the king.
He lifts the piece and turns it in his hands with great care, and I watch him, engrossed in his movement before he sets it back on the board.
A lesson in chess is not at all what I expected this morning. The irony strikes me that as much as I’ve compared my moves in my time in France to this game, I only know the basics, the essence of it, the central goal.
Awareness of the strongest kind overwhelms me, and I welcome it, thankful I trusted my instincts earlier on my walk here. There have been a few times in my life where I was certain about my path, by way of overall electricity that consumed me and told me I was exactly where I was supposed to be at a certain point in time. The first time was in the clearing the night my parents died. The second time it hit was the last night I spent in that diner with Preston. And I feel the same zing now as I lift my eyes to the man sitting opposite of me.
“Tu m’as dévoilé ton handicap avec tes premiers mots, ce qui n’est pas une sage décision dans un jeu de tactique. Je sais déjà que je peux et que je vais te battre, mais ton avantage est maintenant le premier coup.” You gave away your handicap with your first words to me, not a wise decision in a game of tactics. I already know I can and will beat you, but your advantage now is the first move.
He gestures toward me to begin, and I summon instinct, moving the first piece into play. His brows lift in mild surprise, and he gives me a slow nod.