Jack Emerson by Michael Brent Jones
Chapter 3
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“I’m glad you told me to wait to give you my answer,” I told Jack after we had said hello and taken our seats in the living room.
“So what did you come up with?”
“Eight cigarettes,” I replied.
His expression didn’t change at all, which made me second guess myself.
“How’d you get eight?” he asked.
“Well, with the forty-nine butts he could make seven cigarettes, and then after he smoked those, he could make one more, and smoke it.”
Still Jack’s expression didn’t change. I gave him a questioning look so he said, “How sure are you?”
“Pretty sure, why? What’s the answer?”
“I didn’t ask how many whole cigarettes he smoked.”
“What?!”
“That’s why I ask my own questions, it’s no good playing someone else’s game,” he said and laughed. “I’m kidding, the answer was really eight. I was just messing with you to see how you took it. Seriously though, I do prefer finding my own questions.”
I laughed too, “That was pretty funny, you really had me going. I’m just glad I’m not getting a grade from this class.”
“That shouldn’t change anything.”
“It has taken me a while, but I have figured out how to give teachers or bosses the answers they want, regardless of what I really believe,” I told him.
“That is a good skill to have, I’ve just been obstinate my whole life,” he chuckled.
I bet he really wasn’t kidding.
He continued, “Serious now, you will find, there are two types of questions; ones with answers you can check, and questions that you can’t. There are also two types of questions that don’t have answers to check; questions people have asked before, and questions nobody has ever asked. The latter are the best.”
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“Could you tell me more about Jacky Roberts?” I asked changing the topic.
“You just won't leave that alone will you?”
“I want to know what happens to her.”
“So do I.”
“Alright.”
“Alright what?
“We both want to hear the story.”
“I don't know.”
“Come on,” I urged.
“How about you beat me in chess and then we'll see about a story.”
“Oh great..." I groaned.”
“What?”
“I'm not going to win.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“I have learned never to bet people that want to bet. I'm not the type of person that goes around looking for a fight, but I have seen how fighting someone that wants to fight is usually a bad idea.”
“Sounds like there's a story there.”
A very short story. A guy came to a party and wanted to fight someone. A friend of a friend thought he was tuff. It was terrible to watch, but worse to listen to. I've crashed snow skiing pretty hard, and I know the body doesn't like to make those sorts of sounds. End of story.”
“Interesting,” he said and seemed to be analyzing me.
“What do you see?" I asked and smiled.
“I think you could beat me in chess.”
“How do you see that?”
“In your story you weren't the one getting beaten.”
“That's cause I wasn't the one fighting," Jack just nodded his head. "I don't even know anyone good at chess I could bring to help me."
"You’re not even going to give it a try? I could be bluffing you know."
He wasn't bluffing. He wasn't bluffing at all. Somehow I said yes to a second game... Probably because the first one ended before I knew it started.
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“I said you had to beat me to get a story, but I could give you a little preview.”
“I knew you wanted to continue the story.”
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Jack began, “I tried as hard as I could to keep that image of the stars at the forefront of my mind. I hoped it would etch it’s anthem into the walls of my mind, and resonate in my heart.
I became obsessed; I felt if the image faded, so would my hope. I imagined myself painting a beautiful picture that would not only keep the dream alive for me, but possibly inspire the whole world. “The Starry Night Before the Beautiful Sunrise”.
I would paint just the golden stars in their majestic array on a pitch black background. No figures, no landscape, how hard could it be?
…Hard.
The walk to the store, the money spent on paints, and the emotion invested, all seemed to be a waste.”
¶
Jack just stopped there. He seemed to enjoy the anguish that I wanted to hear what happen next. I dreaded to not only have to wait till next week, but that was only if I figured out how to beat him.
“I will give you another puzzle though,” he said rubbing it in that he knew what I was thinking.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” I grumbled.
“What word could you put in front of the five words to make five new words?
Vice, Body, Table, Where and Mad.