Garvey in the Dark

THE MYSTERY OF GENES
Mom is half Angie, half me. Mom and I play chess when we’re not reading, but she’s quick to kick any ball Sis or Dad toss her way.
On the other hand,
Dad’s all sports, all the time. Well, almost. Luckily his vocabulary does include music, just like mine.
I guess it all works. Every family has its quirks, right? Ours could be worse. But here’s the main thing: true love shows up when we’re together.
SUBURBAN MORNING
Taps on my window let me know Joe is ready for our daily game of catch. You’d think we’d get bored, except baseball’s how we speak
without using words.
Who cares that I’m no athlete? I grab my mitt, meet my friend, take my stance. “Let’s go,” is all we say. Then we play.
MANNY FOR SHORT
Funny how time helps you dive beneath the surface when it comes to friends. I hardly notice Manny’s pink eyes or colorless skin
or his snow-white hair. He’s just Emmanuel, or Manny for short, the other tenor from chorus who sings in the key of we.
JANUARY REPORTS OF A MYSTERY ILLNESS
One Sunday, at lunch, Dad mentions something awful happening over there, somewhere far away, but I’m only half listening.
It’s not like we go out for pizza every day. Don’t ask me to pay attention when melty cheese, thin-crust goodness is calling!
WEEK-NIGHT LESSON
Dad’s fingers on mine, he shows me the way to play. My new guitar is quickly becoming a friend and, finally, so is Dad.
CHECKMATE
Mom and I play chess one Sunday and Dad walks in as I swipe Mom’s queen. “Checkmate!” I belt out. “Take that!” Mom falls back in her chair as
if I just hit her.
“Ugh! I didn’t see that one coming. Well, guess I’ll get the ratatouille on.” (Manny taught me what that is!)
I notice Dad’s eyes are still glued to the chessboard. “I don’t get this game,” he says. I shrug, wondering how to explain. “Uhh, would you
like me to teach you?” I hold my breath. “Hmmm. Okay,” Dad says, sitting down. “Where do we start?” Concentrate, I tell myself. Quit grinning.
OH, WELL
Three tries, and this New York transplant decides chess is not for him. Okay. At least he gave it a shot. Now it’s my turn, which is why
I’m munching on chips and dip next to Dad, watching Monday Night Football. So what if I don’t get it? Dad and I are together.