Kings and Generals

CARGILL avoided new people at the park thru a calculated use of placement. His seat near the center of the public chess boards ensured a new guy would have to wander thru a maze of exterior games before even getting to him. That they usually took the nearest open seat, saved him the trouble of learning who they were. They mostly stayed in their circle after that. Cargill managed rebuff by withholding the invitation to move generally offered with a glance, a nod of the head or a smile. But once in a great while, a man braved the mass of stone tables and the trail to the center of his kingdom without an invitation.

The sandy haired boy watched from his bench till he was sure no one noticed him and then moved thru the swarm of matches, studying each table, silently absorbing the murmurs of kings and generals at war. He seemed to recognize the pretenders in the group, measuring their play and moving on. Occasionally he’d scratch something into the small black book he hid in his back pocket. He never spoke. But he came every day, moving closer, till his mother whistled a retreat to the bus stop, and a return to their own castle.

ANNA slid gingerly into the seat after her son, looking for a comfortable position. Her back hadn’t recovered from the accident that totaled her car months ago and she hoped her doctor’s hesitant prognosis wasn’t accurate since she was going to be on a bus for the next few months, learning her lesson.

Even though the drunk hit her, her husband still insisted, predictably, that she could have prevented the loss of the car if she’d been paying less attention to Andrew and more attention to the road. With only Mac’s income, options for replacement were limited while the insurance company was giving him the run around. She also recognized her husband would use this as one more front in his campaign to get her back to work now that Andrew was nearly ten.

But Andrew wasn’t a typical latch-key kid. She was not losing this war, so bus it was.

The 45-minute ride to the cheapest homes Mac could find in the district didn’t tarnish the outstanding school, located a short walk from museums and parks. Mac’s priorities weren’t hers, but the school’s reputation among committed public education elites reflected their real attention to the needs of all their students, so her goals aligned with his, this time. They worked Andrew into the mainstream school body teaching him coping skills to help him relate to others. Mac poured every penny saved toward their Ivy League debt. And she overlooked the issues with their rental, taking advantage of the neighborhood attractions, like the chess park full of old men.

CARGILL appreciated the boy’s commitment to the long campaign. After almost three months avoiding battle, he reached the throne room. The notebook appeared almost as soon as he got there, receiving furtive notes before he jammed his mini pen through the closure loops and slid it into his pocket. He didn’t ask to play. He watched. He took more notes. Through his silent distance, Cargill sensed a great deal of curiosity and maybe even hunger. It had been a while since he’d had a protegee. Not that he was a chess wizard, but in a kingdom of jokers, it didn’t take a savant to be king. Cargill silently pushed the chair out to him.

MALCOMB ANDREW MACMILLAN the III – Andrew, not Andy - knew the moves and the rules and could quote them out loud. All of them. Everyone said the man at the center table, Cargill, was the best player so when he offered the chair, Andrew sat down. Cargill wanted to play him! He wasn’t annoyed by Andrew, but he didn’t want to hear all the rules. He didn’t shake hands and didn’t make eye contact. He just made his first move and got to it.

Weeks passed this way. If Andrew talked, it was about himself. Cargill always responded with something that made him feel less anxious.

His father didn’t like him, but who could like a sissy boy who wouldn’t look you in the eyes and still wet the bed? Cargill asked if Andrew knew that military leaders often mastered chess as boys in to learn war strategy, commenting that even sissies grow up.

Dad was a busy lawyer and didn’t have time for foolish childishness. But Mom, who was also a lawyer but not busy, said the foolishness would end soon. After his pause and low ‘hmm’, Cargill assured him some boys matured much earlier than others, it was normal.

When the insurance finally paid, they could get off the bus. Cargill had ridden the bus all over the city when he was about Andrew’s age. They were some of his best memories.

MAC'S first appearance at the park was a surprise, for everyone. Anna started for her husband as soon as she realized he was studying the old men playing chess, and Andrew. His irritation was evident in his stance. He pre-empted her arrival with his abrupt, booming shout of ‘Andy!’ Hearing that name launched the boy from his seat like it was on fire. And they were gone in minutes, cloaking the man’s displeasure in the privacy of a sedan.

CARGILL heard the disallowed nickname that launched Andrew from his seat and watched as the boy retreated in front of his father’s irritation. He made openings for the boy to talk about his family after that, and the more Cargill heard the less he liked it.

The day Andrew showed him his little black notebook was the day Cargill decided enough was enough.

Andrew was deliberating his move – till Cargill finally asked if he didn’t have something in his notes that would help him make his choice easier. That surprised glance might have been the first time the boy actually looked him in the eyes. His obvious discomfort that someone had noticed his book, which he didn’t consult while playing, spurred the older man to immediately mention he’d had his own share of little black books thru the years. It was a manly kind of habit for one so young to have picked up. The relief and embarrassed pleasure that spread over the boy’s face made Cargill’s stomach clench. Gingerly pulling out the book, Andrew explained it was his birthday present from his Mom, with the pen, and the custom loop holders she’d added to keep it closed! His Dad thought it was stupid, but he was so proud to display it. On the first page of the book Cargill saw his name, phone number and a reward for return, stating the value of the little book to the boy.

On the back of that page were the names and numbers of all the people who mattered to the boy. His mother. An aunt. The school. 9-1-1, nothing more. No number for the Dad. He mentioned in the accident his mom had broken her phone but didn’t know his dad’s number from memory to call him for help. Her sister came to the hospital and then later took them home, way beyond bedtime. Dad was still at work. The next morning, he copied down his Mom’s and Aunt’s numbers. It was important to be able to reach your people. Maybe Cargill would like to put his number down? In case there was ever an emergency?

Mastering his emotions, Cargill wrote in his number. Giving the boy his phone number was a trust, an act of covenant. He would be there for Andrew. And he would start now.

So, he called his guy who setup other guys who then told Cargill all about Andrew’s Dad and Andrew’s life.

Two competitive young law school students married mid-way thru their degrees. An early graduate, the wife was immediately employed by the best law firm in town. A surprise pregnancy and a baby with issues overshadowed the husband’s graduation and employment at a competitor’s firm. She stopped working. He became the sole provider. His total commitment to the firm and Andrew’s total dependence on her produced a functional life, undecorated by happiness even with his commanding salary. Financial evaluations revealed the insurance company had settled for her car, so why didn’t she have a replacement? Why did they struggle when he could clearly afford to live better? Why were his student loans paid off but hers still on the books? Cargill recognized a man who knew his own value and focused his investments there, leaving the others in his life hanging. But what to do about it?

ANNA didn’t care what Mac thought about the park. She didn’t care Cargill was old enough to be her grandfather. Andrew had a chess friend he was talking to and talking about. For that she was grateful. Just like she was not going back to work, she was not going to avoid the chess group. When Cargill started walking them to the bus stop, she enjoyed talking with someone who listened and commiserated. She assumed his life had not been perfect either, yet here he was in the park, being kind to the children of others.

He was easy to confide in. He’d been pleased to learn she was working remotely from her home during the school day providing legal research for an out-of-town firm. He’d even offered her the number of his accountant when he discovered she was paid as an ‘outside consultant’. Cargill was a secret pleasure she shared with Andrew.

ANDREW knew that something was up with his Mom. She was doing everything the same as she always had. But she was still different. He was acutely anxious about it and aware there was trouble ahead.

CARGILL heard Andrew's confession that his Dad was talking about sending him away to boarding school because he wouldn’t quit wetting the bed and made a decision. With a slight sigh, barely registered by his young companion and kind squeeze on Anna’s elbow as they boarded their regular bus, he committed to interfere, seriously. A short call to his lawyer produced a document delivered by messenger within 24 hours to his home quietly and without announcement. No need for a fuss.

He had one of his lawyers deliver the legal testament to Anna’s home. Seated on her shabby, dated couch his man detailed the trust that was due to young Andrew from a distant reclusive, unknown, unmarried great-aunt, etc. Her dislike of all her living relatives prompted her to leave her money to those born after her death. There was a small stipend for the managing parent of those children, and small was relative - $20,000. Each month. Andrew would receive his trust at 30 with her agreement. His man advised her to setup a dedicated account from a bank of her choice to receive deposit of the monies regularly. Cargill was sure she was smart enough to remember from law school that inheritances were not communal property if the monies were not placed in joint accounts. He was confident that she’d do what was necessary and she did.

Even after changing homes and promoting thru Jr. High and High School, Andrew still made use of the buses to reach their park daily. Their matches continued thru that season passing into years. Other players came and went as circumstances changed, lives changed and even ended. But Cargill’s protegee kept to his routine. Andrew appeared like clockwork while attending college, and even after graduation while he perfected acute financial skills, practiced at his investment job. Cargill slowed with the passing time, but often joined Andrew in the park, moving thru the maze of exterior games amid the murmurs of kings and generals at war before reaching him at the center of his kingdom.