The Chess Set

[pre] Everyone makes mistakes; some mistakes are easy t’ fix and others ain’t as easy. Then again, those fancy people called sociologists or whatever they’re called say that it’s natural for humans to make mistakes; they say that humans aren’t perfect. Believe it or not, this is pretty true; no one’s perfect. Anyways, who’d want to be perfect? If you’re perfect, you’re like a machine: emotionless because emotion drives people to do imperfect actions, without personality because that’s what makes everybody else not perfect, and a strange, physical body since it’s got to be perfect in every single viewpoint of every human being on this planet. But I’m not here to preach about perfection; (you should got to a priest or your parents for that) I’m here to talk about my life, and that’s what I’m going to do……

My life wasn’t very interesting to begin with. I was a good, little boy who kept his shirt tucked in, his mouth shut, and his report cards and records clean (enough). I was a hard worker back then, and opened one of the largest toy shops in town: Roland’s Land of Toys, Collectibles, and More. Yeah, yeah; pretty dumb-sounding name but then again, I didn’t have much creativity in my head to begin with.

I was successful; rollin’ in cash for the most part. I didn’t get a wife because I didn’t need one (who needs a wife when you have money?) Yet, after awhile, I got pretty lonely. And when the time came around, I made one stupid, god-damned, mistake which cost me my life.

When I said life, I didn’t mean that my mistake caused me to die. No, I was spared and left mercilessly on the cold streets to suffer. Once a well-respected store owner, I was reduced to your everyday tramp.

“Pardon me, ma’am, if you would be so kind to give me some money so that I can buy some food and-” That crazy woman screamed and hightailed away from me while pushing her stroller as fast as her skinny legs could travel before I could finish my begging. She turned around the street corner screaming, “If you come near my baby, my husband is going to kick your raggedy-bottomed ass!”

“Sheesh, I thought ladies were well-brought up,” I sighed to no one in particular. Rule number one of the hobo: no one pays any attention to you when you’re talking because they think you’re some kind of a loon who’s talking to some hallucinations. Believe me; I wasn’t any loon. “She could have at least to have the courtesy of dropping a few pennies into my hat before taking off.”

“Mrs. Silverstein is pretty hysterical when it comes to tramps,” a young, female voice replied. “It really wasn’t your fault.” I turned around and spotted a pretty girl. She had chestnut hair and eyes that sparkled with curiosity and wonder. A backpack was slung on one shoulder. I figured she was about in her late teens, somewhere around seventeen, perhaps.

“You wouldn’t want to be associating with folks like me,” I told her hastily. This girl seemed well-brought up and the last thing I wanted was someone to think that I was mugging the girl. “Folks like me are pretty wild and dangerous, especially around the full moon,” I added, imitating a werewolf’s howl and growling savagely.

The girl laughed and I then noticed that she was holding two textbooks in her arms. “According to scientific research, hoboes’ behaviors have absolutely nothing to do with the full moon.” She laughed in a childish manner. “Besides, I don’t think you’re of the dangerous sort. I bet you’re tender-hearted towards kids, aren’t you?”

I snorted derisively. “You ain’t no kid; that’s for sure.”

“That depends on the way you look at it.” The girl tilted her head. Her eyes seemed to penetrate my head and I looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

“Don’t you have somewhere to go, miss?” I asked, trying to avoid her eyes. “Pretty lass like you shouldn’t be wanderin’ the streets.”

“Aw….have you got something against innocent pedestrians?” The girl asked teasingly.

“If I didn’t make a mistake in my younger years, I wouldn’t be sitting here with your smart-talking mouth right now,” I snapped moodily. “I might be one of the innocent pedestrians right at this very moment, strolling down the sidewalk with nary a care in the world…”

“You made a mistake?” The girl was all ears. “What did you do?”

“It ain’t important,” I grunted. “Now, go run off to school.”

“It’s three fifteen right now,” the girl informed, checking her watch. “School’s out. I’d like to know what you did wrong.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “It ain’t a pretty tale. Anyways, it ain’t right listening to old, crazy coots like me.”

The girl wouldn’t give up. She seated herself beside me. “I don’t think that you’re a crazy, old coot. Now tell me your story. I like stories.”

I was rather reluctant. “You sure? It ain’t like those stories like Finderella and Beeping Weauty. My story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“It’s Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty,” the girl corrected me.

I sighed. “Didn’t your folks teach you not to talk to strangers?”

“What’s your name, then?” The girl asked.

I shrugged. “Myers Roland; I used to own one of the largest toy stores in town.”

The girl’s eyes focused intently on me. “Tell me how you became a beggar,” she intoned firmly.

I heaved an exhausted sigh and began my story.

“I owned a large toy store and it was filled with the most wonderful things. The shelves and aisles were jam-packed with the largest assortment of items: Yu-Gi-Oh trading cards, puzzles, toys, balls, sports equipment, and board games. I loved working there and my customers left my store very happy. Well, at least the kids were. The parents were more worried about the money in their pockets.

I didn’t have a wife because I was often too busy with business to go looking for one. I was in my prime, an energetic twenty-six year old man.”

“Weren’t you lonely?” the girl inquired incredulously.

“Hey, I did have a friend,” I answered defensively. “A bright girl of six; she came to visit and help out at the store at least four times a week. Her name was Gwen, I think, and I called her Gwennie, just to make her laugh.

She was energetic but was also reserved, a remarkable quality in a young child. Although she was bright, I’m afraid she came from a rather poor family. This didn’t stop her from living her life to her fullest though. Frolicking like a newborn fawn, she enthusiastically helped stack the new shipments of boxed action figures or kites. And like a father, I opened her eyes and ears to the world of business and store-keeping.

Extremely inquisitive, she constantly asked questions, which I was happy to answer.

“If you buy a Yu-Gi-Oh card for seven dollars,’ she would say. ‘Then why do you set the price at twelve dollars?’

“Business, child,” I would answer. “I have to make a living, you know. If I didn’t charge higher, I would be ruined.” Then Gwen would blink her eyes and think this over thoughtfully.

One day, while unloading the boxes of shipment, I opened a box which revealed the most elegant chess set that I had ever seen.

Being a chess fan myself, I made sure that my store had some chess sets stocked in case a customer comes into the store with a desire to play the game of nobles, the game of kings. I was astonished to gaze upon the beautiful set. It was clear that this was not those standard, mass-produced sets manufactured from toy companies. No, it was the real deal.

The board was made out of a sturdy wood and varnished very nicely. Gwen, who was unpacking some bags of marbles, looked up and uttered a soft gasp.

The chess pieces were wrapped in bubble wrap to ensure safety. Sixteen pieces of the pieces were made of a rich, mahogany color, while the other sixteen pieces were made out of a lighter wood painted white. I picked a pawn and studied it. The detail was amazingly lifelike.

“The horse is pretty,” Gwen exclaimed picking up a white knight. Unlike most chess sets, the piece not only included a horse but also a miniature rider carrying a tiny lance and shield.

“Who sent this?” I picked up an envelope, which was under the chessboard.

Dear Mr. Roland,

As a chess enthusiast, I feel that it is only fair to give to you one of the most beautifully made chess sets in the world. I assure you that the chess set, which is now in your possession is not worth as much as it looks. In fact, the real value would be worth about $500. However, you may discover that money is not all there is to life. There is more to life than profit and I hope that you will use this chess set wisely.

Yours Truly,

Edmund Lamour

“Do you know how to play chess?” Gwen asked. I hastily put the board and wrappings back into the box.

“Yes,” I answered quickly, feeling my heart quicken slightly. “What luck! What fortune! I can sell the set for at least seven hundred dollars and no less!”

“That’s a lot of money, Mr. Roland,” Gwen commented.

“Of course it’s a lot of money, Gwennie!” I laughed joyously. “And I will get seven hundred dollars of profit from just a single chess set!” I was so absorbed in my glee that I failed to notice that Gwennie had left the store without saying good-bye.”

“She was right to do that,” the girl declared. “You were a greedy, selfish man.”

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “If you would stop talking, I shall continue. There, that’s better.”

I noticed that Gwen had stopped coming to help at the store. I missed her company and decided to call her father.

“It’s your entire damn fault!” he roared. I winced from the volume and held the phone back. “Ever since my daughter’s clapped her eyes on your stupid chess set, she’s been working her ass off, collecting cans and bottles from the streets to get money for your set.”

“I’m sorry but it isn’t my fault that your daughter has grown fond of the chess set,” I said apologetically. “Don’t you like chess?”

I could hear her father sigh from the phone. “I still play,” he said. “But couldn’t you just spare her the suffering and just give the chess set to her?”

Now it was my turn to be angry. “Are you crazy? The chess set will fetch a nice price. It’s business.”

“I don’t know why my daughter even became friends with you in the first place,” Gwen’s father shouted furiously. “I’m speaking to you for the first time and I can already tell that you’re a greedy miser, the worst sort of a miser.”

“It has not been a pleasure talking to you,” I interrupted. “Good day.” And so I slammed the phone down.

Gwen’s father’s attitude towards me was one of the signs that my obsession with money was clearly a bad thing. Stupid and arrogant, I paid no attention and continued with my work as usual.

“You were a mean person,” the girl interrupted. “That girl was working hard and you didn’t even pity her.”

I threw my head back, proud of absolutely nothing. “I was stupid, missy, so shut the damn hell up!”

The girl clasped her hands mockingly. “I’m hearing inappropriate language!”

“What’d you expect from a hobo?” I spat bitterly. “Anyways, I priced the set at a nice $700. Many people thought that the price was outrageous, probably because they could not see the true value the set held.

One late Sunday afternoon, while I was closing up, a man wearing an expensive suit walked inside and observed his surroundings. His beady eyes fell upon the displayed chess set.

“I’ll buy that set, old fellow,” he announced ostentatiously, showing off his polished shoes. I stiffened at his insult. Old fellow? You could hardly call twenty-six old!

For some reason, I hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I’m saving that for a friend; a child is saving up to buy it-”

“A fine storeowner such as you shouldn’t be giving away items to stupid children,” the man said sadistically. “I’ll pay you one thousand dollars for the chess set.”

“You should have refused!” the girl gasped in horror. I waved my hand and continued.

“I’m afraid that my greedy side took over. I glanced at the man and shouted, “Give me two thousand dollars for it.”

“Deal,” the man nodded and handed me the money. He grabbed the chess set and headed for the door. Abruptly, little Gwen collided with the man.

“Get out of the way, you sniveling brat,” he snarled and dashed out the door. Gwen was carrying two large jars. One held a jar of change and another held a bunch of bills.

“I got here as fast as I could,” she said breathlessly, her cheeks pink. “I don’t know why I was in a hurry but I finally got enough money to get the chess set so that I can play you to see how good you are-” She suddenly stopped as she stared at the empty display.

“The chess set!” she breathed, her eyes widening in shock. “It’s gone!”

“The man whom you bumped into bought it,” I announced, counting the one hundred dollar bills with satisfaction. “He bought it for two thousand dollars.”

Gwen turned to face me, disbelievingly. “You sold it?” she asked her voice high and panicked. “You sold it?”

“Yes,” I replied indifferently, busy with the counting of money. “Sorry about that.”

“I HATE YOU!” Gwen screamed, her eyes filled with tears. “YOU’RE THE BADDEST MAN I’VE EVER MET! I WISH THAT YOUR STUPID STORE WOULD CLOSE AND THAT YOU WOULD KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE NOT TO BE RICH. OF ALL I’VE BEEN THROUGH, I FEEL SORRY FOR YOU.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked warily.

“You only care about money,” Gwen said angrily.

“Money is everything!” I declared indignantly, appalled at her violent behavior. “I think that you’re overreacting.”

“If you love money so much, then here!” With great force, Gwen threw the glass jars on the ground. Coins and bills spilled out all over the floor. She dashed out the door.

I shrugged and then went over to pick up the money. “It’s business, Gwen. Money’s everything.”

Soon after that afternoon, it seemed as if everyone in town knew about the chess set incident. Whenever I walked in public, people would stare and shoot angry glances at me. I didn’t pay much attention because I had more things to worry about.

Business was bad; I had no customers. No one wanted to buy anything from my store. In less than two weeks, I was broke. I was forced to sell my store.

The money from the store kept me going for about a month. Then I was really broke. As I stepped outside on the first day of being a beggar, I stumbled upon shards of broken wood. After further inspection, I realized that the wood was from the chess set that I had sold less than three months ago.

And so, I became a beggar and that’s how I’ve lived my life to today,” I finished tiredly.

“What happened to Gwen?” the girl asked.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I think she moved with her family or something. Oh, if I could just go up to her and say, ‘Gwen, I’m sorry.’”

“You said sorry to her before,” the girl pointed out.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it then. I want to say a real, sincere apology. I want to let her know that I’m sorry for what I did to her.”

“Really?” the girl inquired, looking thoughtful. “Even if she were all the way on the other side of the planet?”

“I’d trek all the way to Mars if I could say sorry to her,” I laughed, smiling at the thought of me huffing and puffing as I stowed away on a rocket that was heading for Mars.

“I have something for you,” the girl suddenly said, reaching into her backpack. “Now close your eyes.”

Intrigued, I closed my eyes. I could hear the rustling of papers as the girl rummaged through her backpack.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” I opened them and stared. A chessboard lay in front of me. The board was cracked and mended together as if it had once been broken into many pieces. The girl was setting up the badly mended chess pieces.

“After all these years, you still manage to remember everything you went through at that time. Say, I’ve just realized that we never got to play chess with each other,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

“Gwen?” I began tentatively. For the moment, a wave of courage swept over me and I swallowed, gazed up and stared straight into the girl’s eyes. “Gwen, I’m sorry.”

Gwen looked up and her eyes seemed to flash a message to me. She smiled and moved one of her knights.

“Your move, Mr. Roland,” she finally said.

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