| General Fiction posted December 22, 2022 | Chapters: |
...22 23 -24- 25... 
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E.J.'s competitive nature leads to an unfortunate event
A chapter in the book Some Call It Luck
Some Call It Luck - Chapter 24
by Jim Wile
| Background A brilliant and beautiful but insecure, nerdy young woman befriends a going nowhere older alcoholic caddie. Together, they bring out the best in each other and collaborate on a startling new invention |
(A continuation of the chapter: E.J. Budrowski - August, 1986)
The next morning, following my loop, I made my way down to the snack bar to speak with Abby before I headed home. I planned to play nine holes this afternoon.
“Hi E.J.,” she greeted me. “That was really fun last night. I’m so glad you could join us for bridge. You did very well, you know!”
“Thanks, I had a lot of fun too. Hey, that’s a great book you lent me. You know, Sheinwold’s book? But I’m almost up to day five now, and I’m going to need another pretty soon. You said you’ve got some more?”
“You made it that far—in one day? That’s really incredible! It took me two weeks to read it the first time. Are you getting all of it?”
“Yeah, I think so. It all makes sense. Some of the bidding seems a little arbitrary, but I guess you’ve got to have some system to communicate with your partner, and it appears to work. The play, though, is what really fascinates me. Nothing arbitrary about that.”
“Well, if you like the play so much, I’ve got the perfect book for you. It’s called Watson’s Classic Book on the Play of the Hand at Bridge. What a great title, huh? It’s all about the play of the cards—no bidding.”
“Yeah, that sounds perfect, but is there really enough there for a whole book about it?”
“Yes, there is; you’d be surprised. He starts simple but gets into a lot of advanced techniques by the end. You’ll learn about some really cool plays. They don’t come up all that often, but when they do, they really can distinguish between a good player and a really good player who can recognize the situations and employ them.”
“Well, that sounds like just the book for me. Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind bringing it in tomorrow, I’ll have finished the other one and will exchange it with you.”
“Okay, I will. Hey, I’m really excited that you seem to genuinely like bridge.”
“I do! Who’d a thunk it just a few days ago?"
“You know, E.J., I haven’t quite gotten you figured out. You seem so intelligent, and yet… ”
“And yet, I’m just a caddie who lives in a dump over a laundry.”
“Well… yeah. I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but I guess you know what I mean.”
“I’ve asked myself that a few times over the years, and I haven’t exactly figured it out. I know that I tend to freeze up under pressure, and that’s why I tend to go after jobs that aren’t too challenging. Let me ask you something, Abby. What makes you want to befriend a guy like me? And why does someone with your obvious intelligence work behind a snack bar for a summer job?”
“Well, I’ll answer your second question first: Aunt Helen told me about the job and offered me free room and board for the summer. It seemed perfect. But I also really like working here. There’s plenty of downtime, and I get to do a lot of reading on the job between groups coming through. Plus, there are large lulls when no groups come through at all—like right now, for instance.
“As to why I consider you a friend: I haven’t had many friends over the years, and”
“So you take what you can get?” I interrupted.
“No, it’s not that. I had an unpleasant time at school growing up. I was this short little, funny-looking, red-haired girl with glasses, who always had her head in a book, and always had the answers in class. The kids resented me and made fun of me—especially the girls. I only had one friend in junior high, and he moved away after two years. High school wasn’t much better. They were very small schools, and there just wasn’t anyone who I connected with.
“Probably my only friend, besides my parents and sister, was my grandpa. He taught me always to be nice, and to treat people the way I wanted to be treated. You know, the ‘Golden Rule?’ He’s the one who taught me to play bridge, by the way.”
“So how did things change for you? You certainly don’t seem at all bitter.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I still have some bitterness in me; I just try not to show it. In college there are very few women in the math and science courses I’m taking, and I’m continually underestimated by many of the guys. It pisses me off, but I try to ignore them and show them with my test scores that I’m smarter than most of them. I try to follow Grandpa’s advice and always be nice, but sometimes it’s awfully hard.
“So, E.J., in answer to your question about why I want to be friends with you: It’s really very simple. I just like you. You’re interesting, and kind, and non-judgmental. I feel very comfortable talking to you, unlike with many people. Do I need a better reason than that?”
“I guess not. Well, thank you. We can all use friends. Now I’ve got to run. I just wanted to stop and thank you for last night and for lending me the books. I’ve got to get home and get ready to go play golf this afternoon. First time in 20 years. Wish me luck!”
“That’s great! Good luck and have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Abby.” Gosh, what a kid: so smart and pretty and just so nice. Don’t know if I deserve a friend like that.
The next few days seemed to fly by as I developed a pretty consistent routine—caddie in the morning, practice at Bud’s range in the afternoon, have a few drinks, and study bridge at night.
Abby asked me if I’d like to play bridge again the following night, and of course, I jumped at the chance. I couldn’t wait to try out my new skills from all the reading I’d done. She told me the same time, same place, and that she’d come and pick me up again at 6:45.
“You don’t need to do that. I can get to your place by 7:00.”
“It’s no problem. I really don’t mind.”
“One of these days I’m going to buy a car. Hitching to the driving range is getting kind of old. I don’t always get a ride there. Plus, I hate putting you out so—giving me rides all the time. I’ve got a few hundred in the bank. As soon as I save a little more, I’m going to go out and buy a clunker. I figure with double loops on Saturdays and Sundays, I’ll be able to save enough in about a month’s time.”
“Well, until then, don’t worry. I can give you a ride. I’d like to turn this into a weekly game."
“Abby, you’re a peach. That’s really nice of you. Alright, I’ll be waiting down in front at 6:45. And thanks!”
Abby arrived as promised. I got in her car, and we started talking about the upcoming game. I told her I’d finished Watson’s Classic Book and confirmed that it really was a terrific book. I couldn’t wait to try out a double squeeze or grand coup. She again warned me that they don’t come up that often, and I shouldn’t feel disappointed if I didn’t see the chance for one tonight.
We got to Abby’s place a few minutes before 7:00. I had brought a bag of Fritos this time, which she placed in a bowl for later. Soon, Mrs. Olsen and Marj arrived.
We cut for partners, and Abby and I were together first. Like last week, we changed partners after each rubber.
We played for several hours. Toward the end of the night, I was only a couple hundred points behind Abby, and we were both well ahead of Mrs. Olsen and Marj in the scoring. I really wanted to try to come in first to impress Abby with how far I had come. I hadn’t had a drink in a while now, and I was feeling quite out of sorts. Perhaps that explained what happened next.
Marj and I were partners for the final rubber. Together we bid to a slam—a high-level contract that gets big bonuses if you make it—and Marj was playing the hand while I was the dummy. Marj started out well enough, taking the first eight tricks, but then she made a big mistake and lost three of the last five tricks for down-2. I couldn’t take it and said in a peeved voice, “Maarrrj! Why didn’t you overtake your jack of diamonds with the ace on the table? Then you could have run the rest of the tricks from the table and made it! Jeez. So simple!”
Marj looked stricken. Abby glared at me. Oh my God, what had I done? As she gathered up the cards, Marj said, “You’re right E.J. That was pretty dumb. I’m sorry for messing it up.”
Suddenly I felt terrible about what I had just said. “Oh, Marj, no need to apologize. I’m the one who needs to apologize for my rudeness. I am so sorry. I just get too wrapped up in the game, but that’s no excuse. I am really sorry.”
She was very forgiving, but I could tell the vibe of the night had changed. We finished in another ten minutes or so, and it was time to leave. Once again, I apologized to Marj for my incredible insensitivity and told her I hoped she would be willing to play with me again sometime. She assured me she would like that, but that did little to assuage my sense of shame at what I’d said, particularly at how I’d said it.
As we drove home in silence, I sat, stewing. Finally, I said, “I am such an idiot! None of you are going to want to play with me again. That was so stupid of me.”
“Don’t fret so much, E.J. It happens. How Marj played that hand was pretty bad. Just remember, though, it’s only a game, and we’re there to have fun. We’re not playing for money or anything, so how we end up doesn’t really matter. I know you wanted to win tonight, and you like competing, but this is just a casual game among friends. If you really like competition, let’s try some duplicate bridge together soon. You’ll meet a lot of good players there and can really test your abilities.”
“Duplicate bridge? What’s that?”
“We would play as partners together for the whole session. We play the same pre-arranged hands as many of the other partnerships, and our score is based on how well we do on each hand versus everyone else playing the same cards.”
“Well that sounds confusing. I guess I’d have to see it in action… if you’re still willing to play with me, that is.”
“Of course I am. I’ve got a competitive nature, myself. Duplicate’s a whole different animal. I think you’d really enjoy it. Let’s think seriously about trying it soon.”
“Sounds good. Thanks. If you’ve got any more books, could you lend them to me? I’ll return Watson’s book tomorrow.”
When we finally arrived at my place, I said goodbye and thanked her for the ride and the evening. I apologized for my behavior once again, but she just shooed me away, said goodbye herself, and drove off.
Well, that was a lesson in humility. I tried not to fret about it anymore, but the feeling of unease just wouldn’t abate. Back in my apartment, I poured myself a big glass of bourbon and sat down to drink it. I tried to settle down.
Despite the last few minutes of the game, I really did enjoy the night otherwise. Although there wasn’t an opportunity for a squeeze play, I was able to employ a good play called an endplay successfully to make a difficult 4-spade contract. I was pretty proud of that, and Abby had complimented me on it. I was also intrigued by her mention of duplicate bridge.
For those of you who are neither bridge nor golf enthusiasts, I hope these few scenes won't put you off the story. I've tried to keep them brief and not too technical. Hopefully there will be enough human interest to keep you going.
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