Pawn to D3. I peered over my notebook and set my pencil down, waiting for my peer's move. He studied the board while his opponent, the elderly woman, eased back in her chair. The soft murmurs of the residential center's game room filled the air.
"I think you deserve to win," He stared at his pieces and then hers.
"Don't go easy on me because I'm old, that would be demeaning." She chuckled.
"Why'd you say deserve?" I laughed.
He pushed another pawn up a space. I noted down the move. "I think she deserves to!" He smiled. "She's already got me beat in her head, probably. Plus I'm tired today, this is too much thinking for me."
The elderly woman smiled. "Too much partying last night?"
He offered a small smile and shrugged half-heartedly. "It's a Tuesday at 9am."
"I've done crazier things back in my day than party on a Monday night and volunteer the next morning." She smirked. She carefully placed her piece to the adjacent spot on the board. I noted down the move.
My peer let out a small quiet laugh, almost forced. I suddenly furrowed my brows in concern, studying his face. The woman seemed to be doing the same.
"I got in a fight with my dad yesterday," He spoke timidly, "but nothing out of the ordinary I guess." He stayed leaned back in his chair and reached over to the chessboard to move another piece.
"What happened?" I asked cautiously.
He shook his head and continued to look intently at the board. "Just dumb stuff. We've never seen eye to eye but..." He trailed off.
"But you keep going back." The woman shifted her piece on the board.
He nodded and shrugged. "It's what you do. It's just what you do."
"Yes, it is." The woman slowly leaned forward in her chair. "You know, my father was an alcoholic. But not until later in my life, maybe when I turned 16 or so."
"I'm sorry." I offered my sympathy. She smiled.
"It's a disease of the mind, it is. But I couldn't stop thinking about the man he used to be when I was a child; kind and caring." She glanced at him to see his reaction.
"Because you craved familiarity." He paused slightly before moving his piece forward.
"Yes," She said. "I did. I mean, I do, still." Her face slowly became consumed in thought. "Maybe that's why my late husband was the way he was."
I had an idea of what she meant but I didn't want to say it out loud. Judging by the look on my peer's face, I could tell he was thinking the same.
"Why?" He asked solemnly.
"Why was he an alcoholic?" She clarified.
"No, why did you choose him. Despite everything you've experienced in your life, you chose him." He seemed frustrated for her. As if he wanted to turn back the handles of time and yell at her to stop. The murmurs in the room grew more saturated.
She exhaled as she retracted her pawn to its original space. "I don't know. All I can say is, do it right this time. Don't give up. You're going to meet the same person many different times in many different forms. Especially when you live to be as old as me. But if you don't learn to navigate the first person the first time, it's only going to get harder. When you repeat a mistake it's not a mistake anymore, it's a decision."
I remember him looking into her eyes with a flurry of emotions; frustration, confusion, sadness. I too didn't know what she meant for a long time. I remember ending the game early, waving goodbye to the woman, and walking to the bus stop with my peer, waiting to go home. We stood in silence, the saturated murmurs of the residential center lurking behind us.
It wasn't until almost 2 years later that I understood. I watched a young couple argue in a grocery store parking lot. I admit to watching them from my car rearview mirror with curious eyes. Although they were waving their arm animatedly and shouting loudly, I couldn't help but notice their feet and their eyes. Their feet pointed towards the other person's feet and their eyes were soft, almost sorrowful. I felt like they knew each other for a lifetime, maybe more.
And I realized, it's just that. Familiarity and deserving. Two words spoken years ago floated back into my mind. Why are people attracted to a certain type of person? Whether it be alcoholics or angry partners or something else. Maybe it stems from a sense of familiarity. Maybe people are drawn to the things they've experienced before but never had a chance to rectify. Maybe people subconsciously put themselves back in these situations to master it in a different string of time, to bring closure to trauma and hurt.
Maybe people, deep down, know they can be loved, but feel the need to earn it. To deserve it. To put themselves back in situations to prove to themselves, to others, that they can do it right this time. And when it goes right, they can find peace. They can find love.
I sat in that grocery store parking lot, inches away from the arguing couple, years and miles away from the elderly woman and my peer, wishing it was as easy as opening my mouth and letting my findings see the light. Wishing I could somehow convey that time heals and kills. Wishing it was easy to tell the difference.