The Game

He watched as the young girl shifted in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. She clasped her hands in her lap and her foot tapped against the plush carpet. Andrew looked at her carefully, taking in every detail of her face. Fist clenched, he rested his temple against his knuckles, twirling his pen between his fingers in his other hand.

As he watched her, she rubbed her knuckle into her eye and glanced over at him, met his eyes then looked away again. He followed her gaze to the largest book, 'The Repressed Mind', the white cover pristine despite its continual use. Keeping her in the corner of his sight; he shifted in his seat and watched her look around his office again. She had paused at the plant again. She stared at the plant frequently while he watched her.

Andrew pushed his glasses further up his nose then rested his head back onto his fist. He ran his pen along his bottom lip and began to suck on it gently, twisting it in his mouth. He smiled to himself, like he’d remembered the punch-line of a particularly funny joke. He glanced to the clock on the North wall; twenty past. Those who were coerced by parents or court order always took longer, but private patients usually didn’t want to shut up, even after the hour was over.

“You know, Dana,” Andrew began as she looked up at him. “My sister has that shirt.” He pointed his pen at Dana’s t-shirt, at which she smiled uncertainly and began twisting the bottom of it around her finger. His latest effort to make her talk was as useless as all the others. Three sessions and the only words she’d said to him were ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, ‘yes’, and ‘no’.

The first session, three weeks previously, he’d continually asked her questions, occasionally receiving a yes or no answer. The second session, he’d decided to let her talk first, and subsequently spent the hour in silence bar her tapping her foot. During the third session, he quietly balanced his cheque book while pretending to make notes, and so far this session, he’d played through the Monty Python ‘Dead Parrot’ sketch in his head. Twice.

Andrew glanced at the clock, twenty-five past. He twisted his pen around in his fingers as her foot began tapping again. She was reading the titles of the books. Third time today, not to mention the number of times she must have done it in the previous sessions.

He began the Monty Python sketch.

‘Hello, I wish to register a complaint.’
‘Hello, miss?’
‘What do you mean “miss”?’
‘I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a…’

“If you’ve repressed a memory, how do you get it back?” asked Dana, startling Andrew out of his thoughts. He regarded her for a moment, her eyes still set on the Freud book.

“Do you think you have repressed memories?” he asked carefully.

“Well, how do you know? I mean, if it’s repressed, you don’t remember it, right? So how would you know it’s there?”

“There are indicators. People, places, or objects inspiring emotions you can not explain.”

“Do you wash that plant?” she asked quietly. Andrew looked back at it, smiling slightly.

“I do.”

She nodded and smiled back at him. The first smile.

“I’ve wanted to ask since I first came here.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“Thought it was a bit too personal.”

Andrew contemplated this answer for a few minutes. She was starting to open up, but if he handled this wrong, it could be another three sessions before she did again, if not longer.

“Dana, we’re here to talk about personal issues.”

She looked away from him and was silent for almost five minutes. Just as Andrew was giving up hope of her talking again that session…

“I like Chess.”

Andrew twisted in his chair and looked up at the clear and frosted glass chess set on the top shelf. He stood, carefully picking up the game and placing it on the desk between them.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said as she looked at him expectantly. “We play a game, but before each of your turns, I may ask you a question, and you may do the same before I make a move.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment then nodded, looking down at the board.

“What’s your sister’s name? The one with the same shirt as me,” she asked, before adding quickly, “white always moves first.”

Andrew had no idea why she had assumed the frosted glass were the white pieces, but he grinned and leaned forward anyway.

“Her name is Lilah; she’s a year younger than me.” He picked up a pawn and moved it forward a space. “Who taught you to play chess?” Dana’s smile travelled to her eyes in the first time he had known her.

“My dad. We’d play every Sunday,” she answered. “What’s the D stand for?” she nodded towards his Diploma under the clock. He looked over. It looked crooked.

“Daniel,” he replied, picking up another pawn. “Do you have any siblings?”

Dana shook her head.

“Mum said there were complications.”

“Did you want brothers or sisters?”

She looked up at him, a nervous flicker in her eyes, but didn’t answer.

Andrew chuckled.

“I apologize, I’ll save it.”

“Are you married?” she asked.

“Divorced.”

“I’ve always wanted an older brother, you know, someone who’d threaten to beat up kids if they bullied me.”

Andrew nodded and chuckled.

“Did you threaten to beat up kids if they hurt your sister?”

“Once. The boy was two years older than me. It’s safe to say he won the fight. I went home with a black eye and split lip and was grounded for fighting.”

Dana covered her mouth as she laughed.

“Didn’t you explain?”

“Tried and failed,” he replied. “What is your favourite subject at school?”

“Drama and maths.”

“They’re rather different.”

Dana nodded, sweeping her bishop across the board and taking one of his pawns.

“Why did you get divorced?” she asked quietly; she sounded almost scared. Andrew rubbed his temple.

“She met someone else,” he replied lowly.

“I’m sorry.”

Andrew shrugged and took her bishop.

“You said you and your father used to play chess every Sunday. Why did you stop?”

Dana frowned, contemplating her move.

“He got too busy I guess.”

“If you ask him to play, I think he might like to. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t want to anymore.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked quickly, defensively.

“Well, parents often become estranged from their children as they become teenagers. Their interests change quickly, and suddenly parents aren’t cool anymore.”

“Do you get on with your parents?”

“I do,” he smiled gently, “though I suppose I could make an effort to see them more.”

He leaned forward and took a sip of water. Leaning back, he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Torn between wanting to get to the root of the problem and worrying she’d close up if he asked anything too personal, he stared down at the board. Dana had leant back in her chair and was studying the game for her next move. Finally, Andrew looked up.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Even without a movement, Andrew could see that Dana had tensed up. She stayed staring at the same square on the board, her teeth clenched. Andrew watched her intently as she slowly shook her head. Making a quick note, Andrew smiled.

“I wouldn’t worry. I never had a girlfriend in school. I was… looking back… a geek.”

There, it had done the trick. Andrew watched as she relaxed again, moving her knight across the board.

“Do you have children?”

“I have a little boy.” He pointed to a photo on one of the bookshelves. “Adam, he’s five.” Andrew smiled at the photo and turned back to her.

“You find family important, don’t you?”

Dana blinked and stared at him.

“Every question you have asked me apart from one is about my family. My ex-wife, my sister, my parents, and my son.”

“Same as everyone else, I guess,” she shrugged. “I don’t have issues with my parents if that’s what you mean.”

“Maybe we’ll get to that later,” Andrew replied reassuringly. “But right now, it is my move and I am keen to make it.”

“Alright,” Dana replied cheerfully, looking at Andrew like a truth or dare subject. “Who’s your favourite band?”

Andrew laughed. She was a typical patient underneath it all.

“I’m what you call eclectic, I like all music. However, I find The Eagles very good.” Jumping his knight over one of his own pieces, he deleted her rook from the game. Dana frowned, and swept her other rook from the other side of the board, picking up Andrew’s unsuspecting knight.

“Good poker face,” he said, stunned. “Where did you learn that?”

“Loads of places. My dad. He’d say I was a book. If he went to move a piece and I smiled, he knew I’d planned it.”

“Well, you said you like maths, maybe you could be a card counter when you’re older.” He was greeted by a blank stare. “Never mind.”

“My mum told me that jokes cover for something else.”

“Sometimes she would be right. Not all the time though.”

“How do you know?”

“Know what?” he asked.

“If it’s covering something,” she explained. Andrew frowned.

“It takes a long time, watching someone talk and their body language. You can’t tell with one joke.”

Dana nodded dolefully and leant back, staring out of the window.

“Why did you become a Therapist?” she asked, her gaze flickering between him and the window. He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I had an aptitude for the subject and I had been told I’m a good listener.” He smiled a little, more to himself than anything. “Plus, my dream job didn’t pan out.”

Curious, her eyes rested on him for a moment longer than she had previously, but didn’t say a word. Andrew let her watch him as he leant over the board and strategically moved his queen to the square in front of his king.

“A fireman,” he explained finally.

“You wanted to be a fireman?” she repeated, a slight smile dancing over her mouth.

“Until I realised they didn’t use the fireman’s pole nearly as often as you’d think.” He shook his head ruefully.

“I wanted to be an explorer.” Dana replied thoughtfully. It wasn’t the question he’d been planning on asking her, but it worked well enough. “Except they’ve found everything.”

“Not everything,” he corrected kindly as Dana made her move. “But I agree it doesn’t really have the same allure it used to.”

“Did you really not become a fireman because they don’t use the pole?”

“That and the lousy pay.”

Andrew carefully took a sneaky glance at the clock. The hour was almost up. In theory he didn’t mind, his next appointment wasn’t until 3pm. However, there was a large stack of reports he had to file about his court order patients, which is why he hadn’t filled the vacant two slots to begin with. Dana had made her move, a clever one with her bishop that seriously compromised Andrew’s knight, but fortunately for him, left her king wide open.

“What do you want to do now, Dana?” he asked as he moved his rook two squares over.

“I’m not sure. I liked the idea of being a teacher, but I’ve gone off it.”

Andrew watched as a shadow passed behind Dana’s eyes. His eyes narrowed momentarily and he reached for his pen as she reached for one of her pawns.

“Do you like being a Therapist?” Her gaze had drifted back over to the bookcase, where it darted over titles and authors.

“I find it fulfilling, helping people to help themselves.” He answered thoughtfully. “There is a protective feeling when a patient leaves, like a parent sending their child to university, I suppose.” He smiled contently and looked down at the board to consider his move.

He had two moves that could put her in check, though both would put his pieces in jeopardy, one more that would take her tyrannical bishop and… there, he’d missed that one all together but it was perfect.

“My English teacher forced himself on me.”

Andrew stopped midway as he reached for his bishop. The words had come out so fast that for a second he thought he had misheard her. He looked up; a small lone tear was creeping its way softly down her cheek as her eyes stared holes into the chess board.

He had a million questions for her now, but he was unsure which to ask first. Should he ask when this happened, or if her parents knew? Should he ask why she hadn’t told the police or someone at the school? Dare he ask what happened or if this was the first time? Or should he wait to see what she told him on her own.

Whatever questions there were to ask, as Andrew’s eyes drifted back to the chess board, he remembered it was his move. Picking up his bishop, he swept it deliberately across the squares.

Checkmate.