“And?”
“They can get places other pieces can’t.”
He shrugged.
“Sometimes weird is better.”
Arthur smiled wider than I had ever seen him smile.
Then he reached for the pawn Miles had promoted.
He was going to add it to the other seven.
Make eight.
Miles stopped him.
“No, Artie.”
Arthur frowned.
Miles gathered all seven saved pawns.
Then the eighth.
He dropped every one into the clear container filled with sugar packets.
Arthur stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Miles looked genuinely confused that Arthur even needed to ask.
“That you’re not finished teaching me.”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
Tears slid down his face.
He didn’t wipe them away.
Neither did I.
—
Eventually I asked,
“Do they have a chess table here?”
A staff member found one in a common room near a large window.
Arthur sat on one side.
Miles sat opposite him.
I took a chair nearby.
Exactly like the park.
Except this time my laptop stayed zipped inside my bag.
And I watched.
Really watched.
The long pauses while Miles thought.
Arthur’s hidden smile whenever Miles stepped into a trap.
The way Miles bit his lower lip right before committing to a move.
For months I had been ten feet away.
But ten feet away while staring at a screen isn’t the same as seeing someone.
That afternoon, I saw everything.
And perhaps because I finally understood there wouldn’t be endless afternoons left, I made myself remember every detail.
When it was time to leave, Arthur slowly packed away the chess pieces.
His hands trembled slightly.
“Tomorrow, Soldier.”
Miles groaned automatically.
“Fine.”
He walked halfway toward the door.
Then stopped.
He ran back to the table.
Grabbed one white pawn.
And shoved it into his pocket.
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Stealing?”
“Borrowing.”
“For what purpose?”
Miles closed his hand around the pawn inside his pocket.
“Because he hasn’t reached the other side yet.”
Arthur went quiet.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Fair enough.”
Miles came back and took my hand.
We started walking down the hall.
Behind us, Arthur called,
“See you tomorrow, Soldier.”
Every single time Arthur had used that nickname before, Miles had protested.
Stop calling me that.
Always.
Without fail.
This time, he didn’t.
He simply slipped his free hand into his pocket.
Wrapped his fingers around the pawn.
And smiled.
We returned the next afternoon.
And the one after that.
And every day Arthur still had left.
There turned out to be more of those days than the doctors expected, something Arthur treated as though he had personally defeated them in a game.
Miles carried that borrowed pawn in his pocket the entire time.
At the beginning of each chess match, he sometimes placed it beside the board.
A little white witness.
Then before we left, he put it back into his pocket.
And slowly, finally, I understood exactly what Miles was doing.
He was walking Arthur forward the same way Arthur had taught him to walk every pawn.
Patiently.
One square at a time.
Protecting him as long as he could.
All the way to the other side.
