Page 47 of It's a Brewtiful Day
We never finished the game, mainly becausealthough he said he wasn’t frustrated by my random moves, I heard the subtle sigh each time. Some came with a wee bit of a snicker, so it wasn’t all an upset.
“Would you rather playGuess Who?”
Elliot opened the box and scooted the chess pieces in, adding the cheap chess board on top before putting the lid back on. “Are all the pieces in that one?”
I shrugged. “No idea. I thought the chess set was complete. Harvey already had them in the box so I assumed it was good to go. Besides, how many things can go missing on aGuess Whoboard?”
It had been years since I played. My cousins had the game, and it was a highlight playing with them as it always became a tournament-style marathon. I wasn’t too proud to boast of my outstanding win-loss ratio. For whatever reason, they never guessed the man with the glasses and the moustache until it was too late.
Elliot slid the chess box back onto the shelf and returned to the windowed table with the only other game in the shop.
A deep sigh rolled out of me as I glanced out the window. The winds still sent the occasional piece of garbage tumbling down the street, slowing their speed enough to not be considered gale forces. The leaves on the branches nearest us flickered almost ominously, and the sky remained dark.
“Do you think the storms are done for the night?” My heart pitter-pattered a touch harderthinking another sneak attack could happen.
“I’m not a meteorologist, and I don’t recall what they said about the strength and length of the storm, but I hope not? Maybe just a drizzle of rain, but maybe not even that.” He stared out the window looking lost and sad.
I squeezed his hand. “Let’s hope someone comes by and we can alert them.”
He banged his hand on the window, and we both craned our necks searching for signs of life. None appeared. He tried again to no avail and then stormed over to the door, throwing his weight against it. There wasn’t a budge in the door—the tree had wedged itself tightly into the entrance.
Defeat was stronger than the first storm, and hanging his head, he shuffled back. Disappointment counted his barely audible words. “Yep, we’re still stuck.”
I swallowed. A tinge of adrenaline coursed through my system from the window banging I hadn’t expected. “We’ll be fine.”
Because we had to be.
There was no other option.
***
When it’s dark outside and darker inside, seeing the details on the printed faces of the game proved more of a challenge than we needed or even wanted to work through.I tucked the box back onto the shelf with a heavy sigh.
“What time is it?” I didn’t want him touching the screen of his phone too often for fear it would drain the battery.
The screen brightly lit up the space. “Nearly midnight.”
It must’ve been the magic word for suddenly Elliot yawned. Once he finished, I instinctively followed.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait right here for you.” Another yawn, but there was a light-hearted sound to his words.
“Miss me.” But I was kidding. I was going like twenty feet away. Hardly missing distance.
“You got it.”
I walked to the guest washrooms located in the main part of our space, hoping there was enough ambient light to guide me. I didn’t want his phone’s flashlight, nor did I want to venture back into the back of the building where pitch black didn’t even describe the space.
I was more than slightly humiliated because as when I got to the bathroom door, I realised there wasn’t a door stop (and why would there be?) so Elliot needed to come and hold it open, even though he had offered me his flashlight a dozen times.
Really, I should’ve accepted it as I have a hard time doing my thing if I think someone is listening, and how could he not have been within earshot beingthree feet away with his back to me. In return, I offered to hold the door for him, and he politely declined; his phone would help, and the minimal battery drainage was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Standing at the makeshift beds, I stared down at the display. Two wingback chairs butted top to top and the cushions on the floor nearer to the window. It wasn’t going to be the most comfortable of sleeping arrangements.
“You take the chairs,” Elliot said, slinking up beside me.
“Oh, no, you should. This is your store.”