Page 41 of People Skills

‘What makes you think I’m bad at winning?’ I ask.

‘I can see it in your eyes. Some people enjoy winning too much,’ he says.

‘Oh, I’m very used to winning, I hardly register it anymore,’ I say, and he laughs. The wine is making it harder to both concentrate and keep my face impassive. Your opponent’s face can reveal a lot when playing in-person chess. Your face, in general, gives a lot away in life and you can either do something about that or not. I am practiced in fake smiles, neutral expressions, concerned nodding and relaxing my features even though my mind might be going a hundred miles an hour, because if Hillary thinks I am judging her, or am repulsed by her, or annoyed by her, our relationship won’t work. And if she sees the effort in my face, she won’t want me around, because when she asks ‘Can you get me haemorrhoid cream from the chemist?’ or ‘Can you book me in for a two-hour deep-tissue massage followed by a foot scrub?’, she won’t want to see judgment about that request reflecting back at her. I have to be a duck, gliding smoothly on the surface and paddling crazily underwater, all my exertion and reactions carefully hidden. I like being a duck, I think it suits me. There is power in keeping it together, in having parts of yourself safely locked away.

Is Xavier a duck? A duck who is going to beat me at chess?

He lifts his hand to move a piece, and I see him hesitate. What he does now with his knight determines whether he digs himself further into a hole. If he moves it forward, it makes it a lot easier for me to win, but if he moves it back to its starting position, then my path to victory is less straightforward. Moving a piece back to its original square in chess is very psychologically difficult, though. To admit you’ve made a mistake so early in the game, and start over, is humbling.

I can see he’s considering it.

But then he decides against it, moves his knight forward and seals his fate.

From here, I’m sure I’ll win. And I do. The game plays out exactly as expected. I see the opportunity for a flashy finish, and I sacrifice my queen, which I can see confuses him, but he takes it, and then realises that his king is surrounded as I move my knight.

‘That’s checkmate,’ I say.

‘Damn,’ he says.

‘Sorry,’ I say. I smile at him, trying not to look smug. I need to prove I can be a humble winner.

He smiles at me. ‘You kicked my butt.’

‘I did.’

‘What did I do wrong?’

‘Almost everything.’

He grins. ‘What was the first thing?’

I tap his knight. ‘Early on, you were thinking about moving this piece back, weren’t you?’

‘Yeah, briefly. But it felt like a waste.’

‘That’s the move that could have saved you.’

‘How did you get so good at chess?’

‘The way you get good at anything. I play a lot.’

‘You need to teach me,’ he says.

‘And you need to play the piano.’

‘No, don’t make me do it,’ he says. ‘I’m begging you.’ Once again, he says he’s begging, but he’s not.

‘You really don’t know what begging is, do you?’ I say.

I’m definitely tipsy now, and high on winning the game. ‘Simone!’ I call out across the bar. ‘Xavier is going to play the piano.’

Simone gives me the thumbs-up. ‘He better be good,’ she calls back.

‘He’s brilliant,’ I yell, a little too loudly, and several people look over at us, and Xavier shakes his head.

‘Sorry, but you lost the game,’ I say, all innocent.

Xavier looks at me and then quickly drains his glass of wine and stretches his hands.