Catherine says that awaits every Wednesday from Wednesday evening. What is its small moment of pleasure. I do not I have no illusions, though: he says so many things. When I get has already put in place the pieces on the chessboard and pillows, as we play on the floor and each game lasts an hour or more. "It is not my black" I do, as every time. "It is instead," she says, stroking his white pawn as if they were a small army of good. He sits down and opens
light: horse in F3. I reply with the advance of the pawn on D5. The games always begin that way.
"You prepare the board with this available, "I say.
"Never" answers offense.
takes very seriously the small gestures that anticipate each meeting: open the old wooden box, remove the cloth, fold it carefully and place it on the table, take the pieces of ivory, one at a time, watch them, cuddle them and then arrange to their place, ordered and trained to play.
"Every piece has its own personality," he told one of the first times. "The towers are the defining boring, standard-bearers instead of court jesters."
"And the horses?"
"They are noble in the service of his majesty, of course."
I apologize to him and sacrificed a pawn to my tower.
It's a trap, I realize too late.
Catherine is much better than me. I am a beginner stubborn stumbling into the same errors; her patient teacher who I train with the challenge of this year.
says that lately has seen some progress, but she says many things. How to wait for this every Wednesday. It is I who opened her days as a rosary, and those parts, for me, now have an excuse.
"Do not be distracted," she scolded with a mischievous smile, as if my thoughts were a statement shouted to the sky.
defend myself from his attacks as I can: Catherine eats my pieces, one after another, and I feel increasingly vulnerable.
are uncomfortable, I ache too. She is motionless with his legs crossed, I move every five minutes. I get up, I lie, I'll sit down and then stretch again. Catherine
snorts: "Chess is suffering and concentration."
Sometimes the parties are reversed. Then take a serious look at it and study the layout of the remaining pieces on the board. I like it when his eyes narrowed in this way, attentive and determined and I guess in his mind all the overlapping moves. It drives me mad observe biting his lower lip, undecided and sensual. Then smile triumphant and overthrow the tables. I'm left back to defend, but happy for those stolen minutes of pleasure. Today, however, is not
one of those days. The slide moves to declare read yet another defeat.
"We did not, you are not careful enough," he says and moves his head. The scent of her hair around me for a moment and everything disappears.
right. And the fault is yours: I am upset and not even realize it.
With a few simple moves, Catherine King is close to my
"Checkmate" exults.
On my face is a veil of sadness that can barely disguise. The match was too short as well as my presence here at home.
"Better luck next time" I am consoled.
front of the door I give you my hand is smooth and soft; Catherine stretches out on the tips and kisses me three times on the cheek.
"You do not have hopes for the race."
"Could you let me win, what it cost you?"
teacher today, tomorrow's opponent.
"I would never do. You mount the head and you would not be more to my lessons. I can not afford. "
I returned the smile.
Now the creed really expect from this Wednesday evening.
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