War
By Tess Almendarez-Lojacono
he thing was, Trini Mendez already had a boyfriend. Actually, she was back with her high school sweetheart. Everyone assumed that Trinidad had left home for good, when suddenly she returned and she and Ken just picked up, as though time and distance had never parted them. And Ken was not only an old flame; he was an old icon, an old idol, a real Ken-doll. At least that's how BOB thought of him.
Ken had graduated from university with an engineering degree, so he wasn’t stupid; he was destined for success in his family’s construction business, so he wasn’t without prospects—but he was also fantastically rigid, so he wasn’t indomitable either. There was something about playing by the rules, that BOB felt sure he could use against the guy, because he had to find some way to prove to Trinidad that Ken would never appreciate the beauty of her soul and to settle for this would be tragic.
BOB was considering how best to overcome this magnificent obstacle, when it came to him. There was one area in which he excelled--the curious and capricious arena of the ‘homemade game’. BOB delighted in concocting one game after another; challenging himself in contests of chance, skill, and intellect. He used his stores of knowledge: names of animals, herbs, plants, planets and continents; minerals, rocks, people, living and dead; generals, battles, economies and gross national products, to test himself continuously. People said he was amusing. They also called him weird. He didn’t care--he was smart. They had to admit he was smart.
One day, BOB waited at Trini’s house for her brother, Carlos. They were to play a game of war. BOB’s variation of the game was one in which the stakes could be re-arranged, traded, so that one would be vanquishing his foe one minute and flailing helplessly against him the next. BOB sat in the living room, in front of the old coffee table, shuffling through a Farmer's Almanac from 1963.
He could sense Trini’s approach before she appeared. The air was charged, clean and clear, like a breeze before rain. He inhaled sharply.
“Looking for Carlos?”
He nodded.
“He should be back soon. Just ran down to the Shop-N-Save for Mama.”
BOB picked up a yellow legal pad. “Hey, how ‘bout a game?”
“Oh, thanks BOB but Ken should be here any minute.”
BOB snorted.
“What?”
“Nothing.” A pause, “Ken?”
“It’s a name!”
“A short one.”
“So’s BOB!”
“No, I meant the game. A short game then.”
“Oh.” Trini walked over to the window. She peered down the driveway. No sign of a car yet. “What kind of game?”
“War?”
“That’s short?”
“Okay. What If?”
“Another BOB original?”
“What if it is? Chicken?”
She crossed her arms. “Go on.”
“What if you’re--?” He looked about the room for clues. Books and more books, a cluttered desk, a sewing basket, a girl scout sash, waiting for its little badges to be sewn on, probably belonging to Maria Elena. BOB remembered Maria Elena teasing Trini because she didn’t get any of the swimming badges--she was afraid to swim! “In a life boat.”
Trini swallowed. She looked the other way.
Purposely not smiling, he spoke softly, drawing her in. “What if you have with you, your five most precious possessions? Here.” He ripped a page from the legal pad, tore it in half and fished a pencil from his pocket. “Write them down.”
She sat. “People?”
“If you like. Don’t bother to write your own name. You’re the one in the boat after all.” It didn’t take her long to scribble five things. “The water is rough, getting rougher. A big wave washes over you, washes something overboard. Cross out the third thing on your list.”
She frowned. “Okay.” BOB’s gravity made her uneasy.
“The day drags on. The sun beats down mercilessly. You’re thirsty. Really thirsty. Your throat is parched, your tongue thick with fear. You’d kill for even a sip of water.”
“Or a cigarette?”
“No. No joking. You want water! Check out what‘s left. What if I trade you the last thing on your list? For water?”
“How much water?” she murmured.
He raised an eyebrow. “A cup.”
Trini shook her head.
“A gallon?”
“How long would that sustain me?”
“What if I give you enough for, say, I don’t know-- a week?”
“Ugh. After a week without a shower I’m gonna wish I was dead anyway!”
“You and whoever you have on that list!”
She laughed. Her laugh cut the tension; so beautiful it pained him, and at the same time made him smile. Trini checked the window again. Nothing.
“Okay,” She looked up. “Water!” She crossed something out with a flourish.
“Man, you’re tough!”’
“What if you get in a boat, BOB?”
“What if I get in yours?”
“What if you already are?” But the way she said it, made it clear that he was not.
“Ha!” BOB coughed. “Okay, okay. Now, what if it’s night and a storm brews up again. It’s dark and you’re wet, cold, freezing cold! You gotta get warm! You're scared to death and all you can think about is sweaters and down blankets and warm socks, and then suddenly--the boat springs a leak! You’re going down!” He paused. “Holy shit--you can’t swim!”
Trini white-knuckled her pencil. She forgot about checking the window. She whispered, “And?”
“What if, to keep afloat, you have to toss one of the three items left?”
“I have to choose it?”
He nodded.
“But BOB, I can’t do that. I don’t like this game.”
“It’s not about liking. It’s about making choices.”
“BOB, it’s just a game.”
“Trini,” he answered, “It’s just a game.”
She took a deep breath and crossed out one more thing.
“Okay now, hand me the pencil.” She did. He closed his eyes and slashed through one of her remaining items.
“Hey!”
“Clumsy Coast Guard.”
She smiled. “Well, at least he--.”
“Don’t tell me what’s left.” BOB smoothed the other half of the yellow paper and poised his hand to write. “My turn. Go.”
“Okay.” Trini folded her list very small and tucked it in her fist. “What if you’re on an airplane?”
He smiled at his pencil. “Touché!” BOB’s fear of flying was a joke among those who knew him.
“Little tiny tin can of a plane with two propellers and one is going out. You’ve got four things with you.” She nodded at the paper.
“Only four?”
Trini shrugged. “Small plane. Plus, I figure you probably only own about four things.”
“Ooh, cold!” BOB scribbled in silence. “Hey, wait, I just thought of one more. Don’t worry. It won’t take up any space.” He wrote again. “Okay, go.”
“Head winds. Toss two.”
“Two? Do you even know what a head wind is?”
She laughed again.
“Brutal!” BOB chewed the end of the pencil. “Two,” he muttered. Slowly, he drew a line through one thing and then more quickly, through another. He kept his eyes on the scrap of paper. “Go on.”
“Okay, you’re headed for a mountain top. Whoops! Good flying, you missed it, but, oh no! A giant pterodactyl is coming straight at you so in a panic, you grab the biggest thing left and fling it straight at the giant bird’s head!”
“You know,” Bob looked up, “This isn’t a joke.” He frowned at the paper, moved his hands like he was weighing something and slashed his list again. “Okay.”
“Now, there’s hardly anything left of your plane.” Trini sounded sad. “I have a parachute. What will you trade me for it?”
“Oh, shit. Hey, what if I have one on the list?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“You have to live. To win.”
“I know, I know. Shit.” He crossed off one last thing. “Okay. Since I started, I get to make the offer.” BOB stood. “I’ll trade my last thing for yours. If you don’t trade me, you only get one more day to live, but you get to keep your thing. Is it a deal?”
“No.” She stood too, hands on hips, mouth set in a line.
“Hey, Trini! I’ve been sitting in the driveway for ten minutes! Didn’t you see the car?” Ken suddenly filled the room.
“Ken!” She spun around. “You’re here! I was just finishing a game with my friend, BOB.”
BOB noticed she didn’t say ‘my brother’s friend’. “How’s it goin’, man?” BOB stuck out his hand. His crumpled list was still in it.
“What the hell’s this?” Ken uncurled the paper and read, “Universal Omnipotence? Exactly what game were you guys playing?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t know it.” BOB waved dismissively.
“More importantly,” Ken hammered on, “Who won?”
“I did!” They said it in unison. “No, I did!” Now they glared at each other.
“But you’re dead!” BOB insisted.
“Not yet, my friend!” Trini was surprised at her own anger.
“Trini, who cares!” Ken looked at his watch. “So what’s the deal?”
“She could have had my omnipotence!” BOB sputtered. “Instead she chose to die for whatever’s left on her list!”
“I won!” Trini protested, unfolding her proof. “He may rule the rest of the world, but he doesn’t rule me! He couldn’t take the thing I value most.”
“Something you’re willing to die for? Lemme see.” Ken took her paper and read his own name. He hooted. “You could've had the world and you kept me instead?”
“You sound surprised.” (Actually, Trini sounded that way.)
“Little fool! You could have gotten me back with worldly omnipotence!” He kissed her on the mouth.
Trini didn’t kiss him back. “I didn’t think that was an option.”
“You mean you didn’t think of it.”
She blanched. “I didn’t need to.”
“Well, I guess that’s why I’m the--” (‘Ass,’ thought Trini and BOB simultaneously, glancing at one another and immediately looking away again.) ”Engineer and you’re the angel.”
“You know the great thing about engineers?” BOB murmured. “They’re really good at fixing things. For other people.” He turned to Trini and raised an eyebrow. “You knew I’d win.”
She had the feeling (she didn’t know why); he wasn’t talking about What If.
