You're the One (a Bistro La Bohème novella)

Chapter 2: Okinawa

Adrien had expected October to be a lot milder here in Okinawa than in Paris, but this wasn’t just mild—this was need-a-dip-in-the-ocean hot. As he walked from his hotel to the Okinawa Convention Center, he took in the sights, smells, and the general feel of Ginowan. It was different from Tokyo and Kyoto in so many ways, and he liked it better.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the rest of Japan. He had a lot of admiration, even awe, for its refined beauty and achievements. But he found it too stiff and rushed. The island of Okinawa was relaxed. People in the street wore flip-flops. They smiled. They ate pork soup for breakfast and lived to be a hundred.

As he stepped into the convention center, the air conditioning hit him with an icy gust. Like most buildings in Asia, the air conditioning ran at maximum capacity, cooling the air a little too much for his liking. He should have packed one of his sweaters. His wool sweaters were bulky, but they were comfy and warm.

He had an appointment with Gustavo del Rio, the world chess champion, five years running. Adrien had arranged to stay on for three days after the tournament to play a few practice matches with Gustavo—at Gustavo’s request.

Adrien was a little early, so he wandered over to the coffee machine. Gustavo was there, frantically patting his jacket pockets, his face contorted in anguish.

“Need some coins?” Adrien asked.

“Adrien—thank God.” Gustavo smiled, and his whole body relaxed. “Yes, please.”

After the machine spat out two espressos, Adrien said, “Thanks again for having suggested this practice. It’s a great opportunity.”

Gustavo took a sip from his paper cup. “Ay! I burned my tongue.” He gave Adrien a plaintive look before adding, “It was my pleasure.”

Adrien pursed his lips, choking back a joke on the pleasures of burned tongues. This was Gustavo del Rio, after all.

“I’m not quite sure what’s in it for you, though . . .” he said instead.

“I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning.”

“Gustavo, I may be a well-rated grand master, but I won’t be able to challenge you the way Tokalov did earlier this week. Or the way your computer does any time you want, for that matter.”

“Ah, I see now.” Gustavo blew on his coffee. “My interest is in your style. It may not be as aggressive as Tokalov’s or as well calculated as a computer program, but it’s elegant. You play the most elegant chess, Adrien. And I like it.”

“Why, I’m flattered,” Adrien said.

And he was. To hear words of admiration from a better player—from the best player in the world, as it happened—was gratifying.

He finished his coffee and threw the cup into a trash can. “Have you seen the room where we’re supposed to play?”

Gustavo threw out his cup and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure I can find the way. You see, my assistant got a stomach bug last night, so I’m left to my own devices today.” He spread his arms. “I must say I’m completely lost.”

Adrien smiled. “Follow me.”

As they crossed the spacious lobby, Adrien thought about how thoroughly Gustavo’s life was centered on chess. His absent-mindedness was legendary and when he traveled, his longtime assistant Jimena was his key to survival, his lifeline. When in Argentina he rarely left his house, which he shared with his mother. Gustavo played chess most of his waking hours and, admittedly, in most of his dreams. He played with a partner or a computer or—if he was stuck somewhere without access to either—an imaginary contender.

They entered the room where everything was prepared for their practice match. The local organizers greeted them warmly and offered refreshments. Adrien stole a glance at Gustavo who radiated good mood, now that there were people around to take care of the practical side of life.

It takes this kind of single-minded dedication to be the world’s top chess player. And I don’t have it.

Worse, he didn’t even want to have it. Life was about more than chess. He wanted to save a good chunk of it for his family, friends, a girlfriend, and the new family they’d create someday.

Which meant that even though he had enough talent, he’d never be the world’s top chess player.

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