Chances

Chapter 5: Checkmate

As soon as we reach to Liberty Park, Dad parked the Buick on the red  bricked parking space, took his suitcase, and opened his door. Liberty Park was one of Washington D.C.'s famous tourist attractions, other than the White House. 

Like any other park, it has fresh cut grass with a luscious garden, narrow trails for jogging, and of course, tables and benches sculpt from stone. 

Legend has it that Abraham Lincoln planned to build this park in Philadelphia, probably because he's heard of Paul Revere before. 

But due to his assassination, the plans of the park were given to someone close to him, perhaps his family or friends. As soon as I unbuckled my seatbelt, I crawled out of my seat and got out of the car. 

Grabbing my hand, Dad took a sharp right turn at the narrow, yet damp pavement. 

Looking to my right, I could see children inhabiting the colorful playground. Couples lounged on the grass, holding hands while elders sat on wooden benches, feeding birds.

The sun is still there, maneuvering the clouds like a Pac-Man game. All of a sudden, I let out a loud yawn and rubbed my head against Dad's leg. 

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"No," I lied. 

"Do you want me to carry you?"  

"No, thank you." I repeated politely. 

The trail lead us up the hill and straight down to the field of anxious chess players, sitting on ivory benches.

Men, women, and even children were squinting their eyes down at the chess pieces, hoping to outsmart their opponent.

"There's an empty table over there," Dad says. He pointed his finger at the clean table, just right next to the elderly men.

"Cool," I said happily. "Come on Dad, let's go!" I hurriedly race down the hill.

"Cleo, wait for me!" he called.

But I was too excited to listen. As soon as my sneakers entered the light gray pavement, I walked pass the eager chess players.

"I almost got you," a low chuckle escaped from an elder man.

Like his friend, the old man wears a dark cashmere sweater, brown slacks, and black pointy shoes. He had deep blue eyes and a lopsided grin.

Looking down at the chessboard, I saw that there were four King pieces: two white and two black. The first man grinned and closed his eyes while his opponent stared quietly at the sky.

I stared hard at the pieces then quickly moved the dark King in front of its white counterpart and tipped the white over.

"Checkmate," I whispered. The minute they woke up from their daydreaming, the opponent blinked at the chessboard and smiled evilly at his friend.

"Ha!" he laughed. "Guess I beat you at your own game, Charles!"

The old man, supposedly Charles, stared at his defeated King and moaned.

The minute Dad caught up with me, he was breathing heavily.

"Cleo," he breathed.

"What took you so long, Dad?"  I giggled.

"I told you to wait for me," he huffed.

"You were walking too slow." I pouted.

"I'm twenty-five years old, not eighty." Dad retorted.

As Dad opened his suitcase, he pulled out the chessboard and placed the pieces in front of us. 

"Black or white?" he asked.

"White," I answered.

He nodded grimly as he gently switched the board.

While Dad has dark pieces, I had the opposite. Right next to us were golden clocks, in case we want to spice things up.

As soon as we got settled in, Dad began his move.

He pressed the button on top of the clock, moved his black Knight in front of mine, and stopped the time.

I watched as he took away my Knight and left it outside of the board.

Swallowing a gulp, I start the time and moved my King one space.

Darn it, I muttered. I thought I could take his King.

Sighing, I stopped the time and waited for Dad's  turn.

After pressing start, Dad moved the Bishop to a white square then watched me for an hour or so.

As we began taking each other's pieces, people stop playing chess and gaped at our rapid movements.

By the time I was down to four Black pawns, Dad had only two White pawns. Triumphantly, I pressed the tip of the clock, tipped over Dad's pawn, and claimed victory.

"Yes!" I squealed.

Dad only smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed. "You beat me."

We shook hands firmly then put the chess equipment away. The small crowd soon dissipated as Dad takes the suitcase, stuffed the chessboard, and zipped it back up.

"Let's go," Dad said, ruffling my hair.

I grinned as I hopped out of my seat and walked him to the Buick.

But just when we left, an old woman approach us. She had chin length white hair, bags under, wears a purple dress and periwinkle heels. Her eyes were the color of weeds.

"I enjoyed your chess game," she said. "I never seen a talented prodigy, except Bobby Fisher."

"The youngest chess player in the seventies?" I asked.

"I heard that he challenged the Soviet Union for a game during the war."

Amazed by my intelligence, the woman asked me how old I was.

"Seven," I answered.

"She's really gifted ever since she was born." Dad chuckled.

"My wife thinks she inherited my intelligence."

"Well, I thought there was just one genius." the woman giggled.

"Everyone is a genius, but you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."

"Albert Einstein?" I guessed.

The old lady nodded, reached into her pocket, and gave me a mini Snickers bar.

I politely thanked her as I unwrapped the candy and ate it.

"See you around, kiddo." she beamed.

She soon turn her heel and left the scene. Dad smiled widely as he swooped me into his arms and kissed me furiously on my forehead.

"I'm so so proud of you," he mumbled.

"Dad, we're in public!" I moaned. "Stop embarrassing me!"

After the awkward embrace, he puts me down and picks up his suitcase.

"Okay," he sighed. "Time for you to go home."