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An unbelievable GM!

Posted by Gimwinkle on Friday, January 04 2019 at 05:45:49AM

New Year’s Eve, 2019


I had been repairing some night stands and a chest of drawers to bring to my kid’s home some 15 minute drive from our apartment. After about a week of sweat, the three pieces were ready. They sat for several days in my front room until Wifey decided it was time to deliver them. It was December 31, 1800 hours local. In the back of my mind, I knew it would soon be the changing of the calendar but it really wasn’t on my mind. I just wanted to get rid of the stuff and get back comfortably home.

I dropped one of the night stands trying to get it to the car. But, without much damage, everything got loaded into the SUV and we headed to the kid’s house. There, I carefully pulled out all the furniture and E, my son-in-law, grabbed a night stand in one hand and walked off with it. Of course, I had to duplicate his feat and I grabbed one myself, leaving the two-wheeler hand truck useless. Twang went a back muscle. Not bad, but, well, I’m getting old.

Anyway, all three pieces got upstairs and the repairman sat on the bed-edge resting his back. M, my daughter, decided to move the chest of drawers around ad nauseum so I sat watching the crazy young woman torture her husband. Wifey, downstairs, was beginning to play in the kitchen. I left the two interior decorators to their tasks and went down to jump into my shoes and head back to the car. Where’s Wifey? Ah, in the kitchen.

“?”

“E’s parents are coming and Mr. Z and his family are coming. I’m going to get dinner started.” I knew Wifey and Mrs. Z were close friends and suddenly realized why she had waited until today to get the furniture delivered. She needed an excuse to drag ME there. Let me make this clear: I don’t eat Chinese food and I feel really ridiculous just watching Chinese people do it. Chinese food is poisonous to me. I will die a horrible death just tasting one little piece of something I can’t pronounce nor spell. Nonetheless, Wifey and M had conspired to get me there. I learned that M had a pizza in the oven that was dedicated exclusively to me. (Me on a diet? Uh….)

Okay, I thought. I’ll just put up with the social insanity and the Mandarin (of which I know only four words) to keep Wifey and the kids happy.

E’s parents got there and we hugged each other while E’s Dad said, “Mandarin Words!” I nodded, smiled and said, “Yeah, same to you!” E’s Mom pointed to and patted my tummy. Yeah, she knew I was on a diet. M laughed and probably commented to her mother-in-law about how my diet was failing me. Or M could have been talking about octopus eyes or chicken claws. Who knows? Then, as is custom apparently, Wifey, E, M, E’s Mom and E’s Dad all crowded into the kitchen and began creating poisonous substances they all were planning to eat. I just stood there looking stupid. M told me to go watch TV. (I don’t watch TV in English, why would I do it in Mandarin?)

Some soap opera looking TV episode was playing so I began a short game of chess on my cellphone. Then the doorbell rang. My life was about to change forever. Believe me, it was about to go from “hmmmm” to “Oh my gawd, my heart’s stopping.”

In walked Mr. Z, Mrs. Z, Mr. Z’s Mom and Mr. Z’s Dad. And… and… Emmy, the six year old lightning bolt into my brain. I had forgotten that Mrs. Z had a daughter. Yes, the summer before, we had all gone out on the boat and I didn’t die from lack of a heartbeat. So, yes, I had met Emmy before and survived with my honour intact. So, as soon as my brain got itself back into gear, I managed some sort of “Hello” and “Happy New Year” to everyone. (Yes, I do know the Mandarin words for that.)

Emmy is Chinese. Oh, gawd, is She Chinese. Those eyes are burned into my postcard memory wall inside my head. As I write this, I am having trouble thinking words to write because my brain wants to dwell on the memory images of Her gorgeous eyes. Her long, straight black hair, parted with precision on the right side of the top of Her head, curved down Her back and around Her neck, downward caressing the sides of Her chest, and almost level with Her elbows. And I wanted to rub my face there. I wanted to feel the soft warmth of the cotton t-shirt She covered Her delicate skin with. I wanted to hold Her small fingers in mine, to embrace them as only a lover can. I wanted to trace my fingertip around the question mark curves that Her ears created, to touch Her chin that defined what a child’s chin should be. Her lips parted elegantly as She spoke, instilling a craving in me to place my own lips intermixed with Hers. The table hid Her legs from me, and I wanted to move the table out of the way. Fortunately, what remnant of intelligence I had, stopped me from such imprudent actions. Suddenly, there, before my eyes, something amused Her, something Her spirit found humorous. And I saw a slight pull of a smile, a crinkling of Asian eye, a flash of sparkle in Her Godhood that I would die for to see again.

But Emmy doesn’t smile much. She is so quiet. It’s Her eyes that blink and glisten and look at things, and… Oh, how I am so obsessed with staring at Her face.

Okay, so I’m intensely attracted to Her. This is a given considering where I’m posting this. I love looking at Her. But… there’s more.

The meal went as most Chinese family meals go with the exception of the roly-poly me gobbling up several pizza slices. Emmy’s quiet project was to agree to eat what Mrs. Z shoved at Her or ask for something else. All perfectly normal. And me? Stealing glances at Her every chance I got. Fortunately, M had stationed my seat directly across from Emmy. (No, M does not know of my history. Wifey has never told our kids about me.) There I was happily going through most of the pizza when I was stopped dead in my bite. Those jewels of Emmy’s eyes glanced at my pizza. Then, She took a bite of something green and orange and, again, looked at the pizza beside me. I don’t know how I managed to get a suggestion out to Emmy’s mother since I had stopped breathing. Mrs. Z speaks perfect English (with a wonderful Mandarin accent) and nodded her permission for Emmy to have a slice of pizza. I passed the plate to Mrs. Z who took a piece and gave it to grinning faced Emmy. For the remaining evening, I did not touch another piece of pizza because She might want another one for Herself. Hunger never entered my mind. Later, back home, I would go through three bologna and cheese sandwiches.

The meal dragged on and I, with nothing to eat, headed into the front room to watch more TV (more chess.) The Chinese make a meal into a festival several hours long… every day, several times per day. So, I was alone in the front room.

E’s Dad eventually came in and sat to watch the TV. He motioned to the deck of cards on the table. Several days before, six of us went to Niagara Falls to learn how to give money to the casinos. Quickly realizing that slot machines were a ridiculous waste of money, they wanted to play Blackjack. At $5.00 a hand, they also decided not to try that. We ended up back in the (very nice) hotel room and I taught them Blackjack as well as Texas Hold’em and Five Card Draw. Soon, they changed the betting rules to something Fubar to gambling. But we had fun.

This time, several hours before “Xīnnián kuàilè!” we began playing Blackjack again. With… guess who! Emmy. Sitting, again, directly across from me. Emmy speaks excellent English as well as Mandarin. Kids that age can pick up three or four languages at the same time and not think anything of it so long as they are immersed in them. Emmy rarely spoke, however. Like I said, She’s very quiet. She had not seen Blackjack before (I’m sure She’s seen Go Fish or something) so She listened intently as I explained the game to Ms. Z and Emmy’s grandparents. Eventually, I finished the lesson and announce a real game. I dealt.

Emmy got a low card face up. The rest of the players got their cards. To Emmy’s right: card? Yes, hit me. Card? Yes, hit me. Card? No, I stay. I looked at Emmy. Card?

She picked up her held card to peek at the value then lightly replaced it on the table. Then She looked up and to Her right and froze. She looked back at Her cards, peeked at the held card again, and looked up and to Her right again. I could see She was calculating. Twenty one? Get a card? Stay?

Keep in mind that She is only six. Her math training was probably non-existent because She wasn’t in School yet. I don’t think. Maybe She was. I never asked. So, if you don’t have the addition tables memorized, how do you decide to get a card or stay? You use your mental fingers and count. “Yī', èr, sān, sì” which translates to, “One, two, three, four.” And, yes, I can count in Mandarin. To four.

Emmy took several moments to make Her calculations which all of us patiently, quietly waited for Her to finish. Then, just as if She was in a Casino, She replied, “Hit me.” I gave Her a second card and, again, She did her upward stare while calculating. Then, just as professionally, she said, “I’ll stay.” And the game continued. The betting was beyond my comprehension but it didn’t matter. We were using poker chips that had no relationship to money at all. The night drew closer to 2019 and people began dropping out of the game. Different dealers took their turns but Emmy declined to deal. So, we skipped Her dealing.

The person (I forget who) to Emmy’s right left and we all moved around to get more comfortable. Emmy was kneeling on the carpeted floor and my position suddenly required me to sit on the floor, inches from my worshipped Goddess. No, I could not shuffle cards very well so, being very very distracted, I complained of my arthritis (of which I do not have.) The cards were dealt and I stopped reading my cards and just pretended to play. I was riveted to my cards, though. Or, at least, that’s what I’m sure it looked like. In reality, I was staring at Her. I was compelled to look at Her. I was obsessed with what I could see of Her. I wanted to touch Her. I wanted to kiss Her. I wanted to BE with Her. The game continued, I faked my playing, and I carved a detailed memory of Her as carefully as I could, noticing how Her hair would fall past Her thin, narrow shoulders. I can see, even now, how Her chest was boy straight, how Her hands moved about the cards, how Her eyes focused absently upwards to do her slow calculations. I could sense the soap Her mother had used on Her before they came over. I could hear Her sighing as she grew tired. With my own heart, I could feel Her heartbeat less than a foot away from me. Watching Her play, I could admire how smart for a six year old She was. And, amusingly, how She was beating me in the games.

The New Year began. We celebrated with exclamations and handshakes and hugs. Oh, I thought… I prayed for… could I get a… no, that would NOT be a good thing to do. I don’t think I would have stayed honourable. I would have held the hug way to long. People, important people, parent people, and even a wife person, all would look at me and suddenly realize the obsession I had for Emmy. Yeah, a big no-no.

Wifey and I returned to our apartment. I have a strange sleep pattern so Wifey went to sleep while I sat in front of my computer and wondered how I could record my memory onto the electronic memory that would be more reliable than my meat one. Going over what memories I had, I needed to take a shower. I fixed myself a couple sandwiches afterwards and watched some YouTube explosions, chemical fires, and truck drivers sliding in the snow. Then, feeling a sleep cycle come on, went for an hour nap. Did I dream?

Ha ha. Yes.





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