With a bit of whistling and a roll of the wrist
I slipped into some rusty overalls to go
...
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Heather Santo is a procurement category manager in Pittsburgh, PA with her husband and two children. In addition to writing, her interests include photography, travel, and collecting skeleton keys. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter @Heather52384. "Across the Board of Time" is in Short Circuit #19, Short Édition's quarterly review.
Lena walked through the soccer field and to the edge of the woods. The large oak greeted her, outstretched branches bursting green with the early spring. "Hello," she said, patting its trunk. She found the flat patch at its base, worn smooth by her many visits.
Her backpack slid off one shoulder and Lena removed an antique chessboard. A gift from Caleb, just days before the car accident. They'd never had a chance to use it.
Lena placed the board in front of her. Handmade from walnut wood, its 8 x 8 grid was inlaid with mother of pearl. A velvet pouch contained the thirty-two chess pieces. She set up the game.
A breeze rustled the undergrowth. Despite the day's warmth, Lena shivered. Something shifted— something she couldn't quite name. Not the forest itself, rather the spaces between everything.
"Hey."
Lena looked up sharply. She knew that voice. Of course she did.
Caleb stood before her, but not as she'd last seen him alive. He was eleven years old again. She looked down at herself. Instead of the jogging pants and running shoes she'd put on that morning, she wore frayed jeans and Converse sneakers.
Caleb grinned. His brown hair flopped over one eye and he brushed it aside, studying her. "Lena, right? We aren't in the same class, but I've seen you around."
This conversation had happened before. Forever burned in her memory.
"Yeah," she said. "You're Caleb."
A popular, up-and-coming athlete in their small school district. It was no surprise she knew his name, but Lena had been surprised he knew hers. Painfully shy, she'd always kept to herself. Never participating in social activities, always watching from the edges.
He gestured at the chessboard.
"You play?"
Lena blushed, embarrassed.
"I do."
"By yourself?" he asked.
She didn't want to tell him she didn't have any friends to play with. "Sometimes."
"How does that work?"
Lena shrugged. "I play against myself. Sometimes that's harder than playing an opponent."
"I know how to play. If you want, you know, an actual opponent."
"Really?"
"Yeah, my grandfather taught me." Caleb moved a pawn.
The nameless something shifted again. Lena experienced a weightlessness, like a roller coaster drop, and spring bled into burgundy fall. Caleb still sat across from her, but he was a few years older now. His face had lost the roundness of youth, giving way to more mature, chiseled features.
Lena shivered.
"Are you cold?" He shrugged off his letterman jacket. "Here, put this on."
The jacket was warm, and smelled like a mix of musk and spice. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
"Why don't you ever talk to anyone at school?"
She replied, "I don't have anything interesting to say."
"That's where you're wrong." He chuckled. "You're one of the most interesting people I've ever met."
Butterflies flitted inside Lena's ribcage. "You're the only one who thinks so."
"Everyone else is wrong."
She picked up her pawn and moved it.
The heat of summer pressed in with the next shift. She wore shorts and her thick mane of curls in a knot on top of her head. Caleb's skin glowed with a bronze tan. The woods vibrated with cicada song, and Lena felt it channel into her bones.
"I really enjoy our games," Caleb said.
"Me too," Lena replied. "I'll miss this after graduation."
His eyes widened. "Why does it need to stop after graduation?"
"I don't know," she said, backpedaling. "We're both going away to different schools. Things will be different."
Unsure what else to say, she rose and walked around the tree. Caleb followed.
"Just because things are changing doesn't mean things between us have to change."
Her eyes burned into his.
"What if I want them to change?" she demanded.
His body pressed into hers. The tree's bark bit into her exposed skin. "What do you want to change?" he asked. Lena raised her hand to his face. Gently, he brought his lips to her fingertips. Drawing him closer, Lena's lips met his. The summer was no match for the heat between them. When they finally pulled apart, breathless, she said, "Your move."
This time, the weightlessness was accompanied by the sound of cracking ice, and the forest became winter encased. Both of them were bundled in heavy coats, breathing out white clouds. The chessboard rested on a quilt Caleb had spread over the snow, and flakes fell through the oak branches, so slowly, as if impeded by the magic they had created here.
Lena held out her mittened hand and caught one.
"I can't believe college is almost over," she said.
"I told you," he replied, "our games didn't have to stop because of college."
She leaned over and kissed him. "You were right."
"I'm always right." He smiled. "Just like I am about this."
Gasping, Lena watched as he came to one knee. The ring sparkled like sunlit frost.
"Let's get married."
Before answering, she moved her bishop.
"Okay."
Her stomach floated, and the snow melted, washed away by rain. There was an umbrella propped over the chessboard, protecting it from the wet.
"Maybe we should go home," Lena said.
Caleb held out his dripping hand.
"A little rain never hurt anything. Plus, I like playing here better."
"Why is that?"
"This place belongs to us." He playfully flicked water into her face. "Just like we belong to each other. No matter what happens, pieces of us will always exist here."
She flicked water back at him, and Caleb grabbed her wrist. Kissed it. Then moved his knight.
Time locked back into place. Lena sucked in the air, as if she'd been holding her breath a long time. She was alone with the chessboard. Back in the present. Looking around, she noticed the pieces were in play.
She studied the board for a few moments, listening to the creaks and groans of the oak branches. Finally, she moved her queen and picked up Caleb's king.
"You were right," she whispered. "We will always exist here."
