Once Upon A December

Part 14: Chess & Dialogues

Okay, I get it. Michael wants us to eavesdrop into other people's conversations beside our table. But we have to pretend we're playing chess while doing it? I mean, if not, we'd only be accused of snooping into other people's business. That's not a good way to start this second workshop, that's for sure and certain.

"These two are the closest you can hear." He whispers as he shoots a look at the two people beside our table. A man and woman, both serious and quiet as they play chess.

"Are you serious?" I said, keeping my voice down as much as I can. "They're barely talking... He's about to threaten her queen, anyway." I take a quick glance at their board by side-eyeing them discreetly.

"Do you have any experience with... reading faces and gestures?"

"Huh?"

"They're not in a good mood." He sighs. "They're probably playing chess to avoid talking to each other."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Look at him," Michael pointed the guy with his lips. "He barely glances at her when she looks at him. His focus is on the chessboard and his pho---"

"Oh," I laughed silently. "Maybe he's just stressed thinking about his next move, don't you think?"

He shakes his head in disapproval. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Michael shoot his eyes at the guy's hand, gesturing me to check. I turn to take a closer look to see what he's referring. And to my surprise, the man is texting with his phone under the table, using one hand.

"He does that when she's busy thinking her move." His eyebrows went up and down quickly. "Not interested, Claire."

My jaw slowly dropped open in surprise. How in the world does he know these things? I thought men only knows how to read their own emotions and not someone else's?

"And what if they don't talk any time soon?" I asked, crossing both arms over my chest.

"Oh, trust me." He takes his earphones out from the pocket of his jeans. "They will."

-

Our fake chess game ended earlier than expected. I had to resign the second time because of how good Michael plays. I didn't even notice that his hidden bishop was snooping on my king. And before I knew it, my pieces had nowhere to run to.

"Would you like to order another plate, miss?" A waiter asked as he approached me.

"No, thank you." I said. "I'm pretty stuffed."

After a little while, while Michael is busy blasting songs on Spotify, I try to observe from time to time about the two people beside us. A few more moves and one of them can resign. I didn't really care about the game. I'm only waiting for a conversation to come up at this point.

I sigh deeply after finishing a small serving of red velvet cake. My coffee is now empty, too. And while this 37-year-old man across from me keeps listening to his music, he can't seem to take his eyes off the pocket book he's busily reading, Nicomachean Ethics, whatever that is.

"The game is over." The man at my side says.

I slowly drag my chair a little to hear what he's saying. I never actually thought I'd hear him talk. But here it is.

"And so are we." The woman replied. My eyes widened because of such straightforward answer. "We've been fighting for two months, Garry. I told you this will be the last time we'd see each other."

Although the entire bar is never silent, I can feel a sense of tension and quietness around them. I've never tried listening to strangers' conversations all my life. And to hear a potential break-up conversation like this? It scares me.