Read It's You for Free Online

lulled by the sound and rhythm of the game. The dealer, the opener, the responder . . .
    My mother always laughed when she was the dummy.
    I loved her for that. I loved that she was so warm and easy. She had an ego, but it was about education and excellence and schools. Never herself.
    Now Dad, partnered by the formidable Edie, is the dummy, but he doesn’t seem to mind. As the game progresses it’s obvious he’s fond of Edie, almost deferential. But then, he does like winning, and they are winning now. From the quiet, sporadic banter around the table, to the winning of tricks, it’s clear Dad and Edie are the team to beat.
    Thirty minutes later the game finally ends, and Dad rises carefully, using a cane to assist him to his feet. Bob offered an arm but Dad wouldn’t accept the help.
    Now Dad leads the way to lunch, walking slightly ahead of me, working the cane as if an aggressive sea captain on the deck of his ship.
    He’s thinner than when I last saw him, noticeably thinner, but his mood is ebullient after the win. His voice isn’t steady but it’s impossible to miss his confidence. “Bob and Rose arrived in March and everybody started saying they were the best bridge players at the Estates. But that was before Edie and I started playing together on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
    “That makes you happy.”
    “It’s fun to win.”
    “She seems a little bossy.”
    “She’s almost ninety-five. She’s entitled to have a few opinions.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “You don’t like her.”
    It’s a statement, not a question. I shrug. “I don’t know her. But she’s not exactly warm and friendly. Whenever she looked at me she seemed to be giving me the evil eye.”
    “Oh, she was. She doesn’t tolerate stuff and nonsense—”
    “I’m not stuff and nonsense.”
    “But you were interrupting our game.”
    “You told me to meet you for lunch. I was here at noon. That’s lunchtime.”
    “She’s very smart, Edie. She was raised overseas, speaks a half-dozen languages, and could have worked for the State Department but chose to become a teacher instead. I enjoy her company a great deal. There aren’t a lot of women here like her. She reminds me of my aunt Mary. Mary was brilliant. She wanted to be a doctor but her father, my grandfather, wouldn’t hear of it.”
    We’d reached the large dining room just off the entrance atrium. The dining room’s longest wall was lined with tall French doors overlooking Napa’s rolling hills covered in trellised grapes. It’s a picturesque view and the May sunlight spills into the room, streaking the hardwood floor and dappling the place settings.
    The lunch hostess takes us to a table for two near the French doors. Dad is still leaning on his cane, but taking smaller steps to match his small talk with the hostess as she leads us to our table. I think the hostess isn’t there to seat us as much as to make sure Dad and the other seniors don’t topple over.
    I’d been worried that Dad and I would have nothing to talk about but he’s cheerful as we study the menu, recommending the taco salad which comes in a big tortilla shell, shaped like a bowl. I consider his recommendations but end up ordering the Chinese chicken salad.
    We have ice tea with our salads and I have to pretend it’s notdifficult to watch Dad struggle with his meal, hand shaking, as it takes him two, three attempts to get lettuce and ground beef onto his fork. He shouldn’t have ordered something with ground beef. It doesn’t clump. The salad and cheese and beef fall off the tines before they reach his mouth.
    “Need help?” I ask.
    “Nope.”
    Why did I know he’d say that? But his good mood wanes as he battles to get his lunch onto his fork and up to his mouth.
    I feel a pang.
    I haven’t seen him enough. Haven’t talked to him enough. The phone call every couple of weeks (is it even that often?) isn’t enough. I know it’s not enough. And more confusing is that I don’t know