Playing Games

We sat on the floor of her old house, playing a game of cards and cardboard money. We had been playing all night and, in the pre-dawn morning, I believed I had the advantage and she did too, so she chose to distract me with conversation.

"So I've been meaning to ask," she began, possibly leading with a lie "what's the hardest part of your job for you? I don't think I could handle some of the horrible shit you've seen."

I saw through her game and decided to not let her throw me off by forcing me to think about something other than my plans. She wanted to steal the secrets I held in my hand, the objective of the game. I couldn't let her have them, so I told the truth. "Actually...the hardest part for me is communicating."

She was taken aback, not expecting this answer at all. "Oh? What do you mean? Because you're smarter than everyone else?" She had made a common assumption which was also a mistake.

A thin smile revealed my teeth, accompanied by a low chuckle. Volume had to be conserved as to not wake her family. "No no, not that. There are plenty of smart people I can talk to." I shook my head as I placed down cards, hiding my secrets behind further walls of protection.

I hesitated for a moment before continuing. I had somehow forgotten that this is a woman who has known me for many years. She gets me and always has. "I mean how..." I pause, searching deep behind layers of learning and a little sea of alcohol for a word. "I can't really get them to see my vision."

Her bottom lip found purchase underneath her top teeth as she pushed past my walls, finding a way to a secret. "Oh? Do go on." The game continued.

I nodded and did as she asked, falling into another trap. "Well, I have trouble explaining to them how I see and feel things." I wave my hand in the air, swatting pest-like ideas from the sky. "I can't get them to see how I don't just see some dudes trudging through a snow-covered clearing in the woods. I see a vast living tundra, attempting to swallow whole a platoon of warriors as they push into a deep jungle."

It takes me more than a moment to think of another example and another gameplan to protect the secrets she was trying, and succeeding, to steal from me. "I don'tjust hear the sounds of gunfire. I hear the cacophonous roar of a percussive symphony."

She nodded, another secret in her pocket. One left.

I opened my mouth to continue. Unfortunately, I found myself to, once again, be the victim of my own cowardice. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I didn't just see a pale brunette in a blue t-shirt and jeans, her hair messily pushed into a bun, when I looked at her.

My lips and tongue fell slack, denying me the chance to tell her that I saw a statue carved of porcelain. A statue with a cascade of willow branches, woven into shape behind her head. A statue with almond-painted eyes and a mural of the sea upon her torso and a portait of the sky on her legs, complete with a pair of clouds to cover her feet. And a dangerous hand of cards in her possession

Her eyes drifted from the weapons she carried to mine, her gaze casually brushed my soul. She stole my last secret. The game was hers again.