Finally Marshall pushed himself up from his wheelchair and walked to the den in only a slightly altered gait, his orthotic shoes clapping as he marched. As soon as he sat on the couch and began to assemble the chess set, his curled wrists and stiff fingers magically unfolded as he gripped the pieces to place them on the board. The transformation in stature, Sidney noted, was remarkable. She remembered something similar from weeks before at the Sebolds’ home.
“He can do a lot on his own,” Grace said. “But he has to be pushed. The TBI, the brain injury, has led to progressive muscular dystrophy. If he doesn’t use his muscles, he’ll lose them. He never used to be this bad. It nearly broke my heart the first time I saw him in a wheelchair when he visited me at Bordelais. I was shocked to get home and see that it had progressed so much. My damn parents haven’t been making him help himself for years. Without motivation, he’ll just sit in that chair and let his body atrophy to the point of brittleness. He doesn’t know any better. He can’t help himself unless he’s reminded. Now that I’m around, he’s reminded often. More than he likes. I think he’s getting tired of me.”
“I doubt that,” Sidney said.
“Chess is his only interest. When he plays chess, his physical ailments disappear. His muscles loosen and he can use hishands and fingers just as well as you or me. His speech improves and the slur disappears. The doctors explain it as tapping into a small portion of his brain that he can’t access any other way than through the analytics of chess. When he utilizes this part of his mind, it supersedes his physical limitations. Essentially, when he’s playing chess, he’s his old self. Even though he doesn’t notice the change—at least, he’s never mentioned it—I think it’s why he likes playing so much.”
“That’s amazing,” Sidney said, watching Marshall sit and move as if he had no physical ailment. “He walks really well.”
“It was worse just after I got home. It’s better now in just a few days since I’ve been pushing him. I remember the doctors telling us, you know, before I went away, that with physical therapy he could reasonably walk for many years, well into his thirties. Maybe even his forties, before he was confined permanently to a wheelchair. I just have to stay on him. My parents . . . I love them, but Marshall has been a lot to handle. He’ll need more help than I can give him, but my parents were ready to shuffle him off to a full-care facility. He’s not ready for that, and neither am I. As soon as things settle down with the media, I hope to move back home and take better care of him until I can get a place of my own.”
Sidney blinked as she stared at Grace. Seeing her with Marshall made this visit harder than it was already going to be. “You’re a good sister.”
“I’ll make coffee. Go play chess, then we’ll talk. What’s going on, by the way? Any problems?”
Sidney hesitated before she answered. “I’m not sure yet.”
Grace gave a quizzical expression. She nodded toward the kitchen. “We’ll talk when you’re done.” She squeezed Sidney’s wrist. “Thank you for playing with him, and for treating him like . . . an equal.”
Grace headed to the kitchen, and Sidney turned to the den, where Marshall was organizing the pieces on his new chessboard, the one his sister had purchased for him on her return home after ten years in jail. She walked into the den and sat down across from him.
“I like the new chess set,” Sidney said.
Marshall offered an indifferent look. “It’s not as nice as my old one.”
Sidney remembered the Lladró porcelain set from weeks before when she played chess in Marshall’s bedroom. The intricate medieval pieces replaced now with traditional wooden figures. The cheap, composite plastic chess case she looked at today seemed quite a leap from the elaborate, pinewood cases that held the competing black and white Lladró pieces.
“Why did Grace buy you a new one? Your old chess set was beautiful.”
“She doesn’t like to play on the old one. It brings back bad memories for her, so she asked me to put it away. For as long as she was gone, I did. I only took it down once, when you and I played.”
“Why does it bring back bad memories for her?”
Marshall shrugged. “Just reminds her of her old life. She wants a new life now. I don’t blame her. Like this chess set, I think she’s hoping her new life will be simpler than her old one. Black or white?” Marshall asked.
Sidney looked down at the pieces. “White.”
He pushed the stray pieces from his previous game with Grace over to Sidney. She arranged them in order.
“You open,” Marshall said.
Sidney moved her pawn forward.
Marshall quickly advanced his own pawn, immediately opposite.
“Why do you like chess so much?” Sidney asked.
Marshall shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“No idea?”
“I guess it’s because I used to play football, and chess is a way to compete.”
“Your mom tells me that you were quite a star in high school.”
Marshall stayed quiet.
“You still miss it? Football?”
