Day 19: Know when to fold 'em

Today's task--Take on someone else's voice.

From the minute I pulled in the parking lot at the senior center, I could see things were fixing to be trouble today. Mabel had taken my parking space, and she did it on purpose, too. I promise you that. I pulled my white Buick right next to her brown Pontiac, “You don’t scare me,” I said as I squeezed myself out of my car. “Oops,” I grunted through a snorting chuckle as I surveyed the chip my driver’s door left in the door on her passenger’s side. “I do park awful close sometimes, don’t I?” I sighed and made my way to the entrance. Today was Wednesday, which meant “Pitch and Pork Chops Day” at the senior center and after all her table talking and cheating last week, Mabel Musser was cruisin’ for a bruisin’ as far as I was concerned.

As the door swung open, I scanned the room, shouting my hellos to the usual suspects and keeping my eyes fixed on Mabel. It doesn’t do any good to give someone the cold shoulder if you don’t see how it’s affecting them.

“Hey, Clark! Hey, Thelma! Doris, you ready to win big today?” I shouted, staring daggers directly into Mabel’s eyes through a weak, gravelly chorus of, “Hey, Phyllis.” Mabel took a sip of coffee from a small Styrofoam cup and met my glare for just enough time to let me know that she knew what I was up to. “Don’t worry, Doris,” I called out as I approached my pitch partner of 15 years. And then just loud enough so everyone in the room could hear me but makin’ like I was just talkin’ to Doris, “We’ll get ‘em this week, and I asked Cleta to remind all of us about the rules before we get going since it seems some of us would like to try the boundaries and such. You know, like table talkin’ and the like.”

I caught Mabel rolling her eyes and then heard her say to her partner, Maxine, “That Phyllis knows good and well that we don’t do no table talkin’.”

Doris cut me a look over her bifocals, letting me know that I was the one trying boundaries this morning. But I had on my gold shoes and my favorite clip-on earrings, and well, I just felt too good to let things go smoothly this morning. All the same, Doris was a good friend to me, and we had more card-game wins than we had losses, so I bit my lips together and let a bit of silence clear some of the tension away. “Who’s ready for some pork chops?” I asked Doris. “Cleta sure knows how to do ‘em up just right.”

Doris and I took our seats next to Clark and Thelma at the lunch table. Thelma was wiping some crumbs off of Clark’s shirt collar. “Phyllis, you make sure you play nice today. Last thing any of us wants is another knockdown drag out between you and Mabel.”

“Ain’t nothing to be worried about, Thelma. I just play to have fun,” I said sarcastically.

“Ain’t a body in this place would believe that, Phyllis.”

Cleta served up the pork chops, and we mostly ate in silence. I found my mind trying to figure how I could get me and Doris stationed at Mabel’s table for the first round. I wanted to be the one to put her in the loser’s bracket, and I wanted to do it early. Judging from where she parked this morning, she was still riding high from that G.D. win last week. Cleta surprised us all with pumpkin pie, so I had some extra time to plot a seating chart change. I’d simply approach Cleta and ask if last week’s winners could play the winners from the week before. Never one to weaken the competition, Cleta would probably oblige my request without much thought.

I excused myself from the table and approached Cleta who was wiping down the pork chop serving tray in the kitchen.

“My, Cleta. You’ve really outdone yourself this mornin’,” I said as I placed my hand on her shoulder. “You’re really too good for us old people.”

“Oh, Phyllis. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Say, Cleta?” And I told her my idea about putting me and Doris up against Mabel and Maxine, and I just explained how the competition would be good and how everyone would love to see a good card game. Before I knew it, Cleta was scratching through a couple of names on her seating chart and putting Doris and me versus Mabel and Maxine at table one during round one. I swung open the kitchen door and joined the rest of the munching seniors as they finished up their last bites of pie and dabbed their napkins in the corners of their mouths. Several refilled their Styrofoam cups with decaf coffee, and then we all waited for Cleta to come in and give us this week’s table assignments. She started with table six and worked her way down. Of course, by the time she got to table one, everyone knew who would be in the last two spots.

“And finally, table one,” Cleta called unwittingly. Her red hair bounced as she announced, “Phyllis and Doris will take on Maxine and Mabel.” Doris looked at me; her mouth showing its shock as it hung open just a bit. “Now, I’ve been asked to go over the rules for everyone. Just as a reminder,” Cleta said. There were a few groans. Turns out most of us old people think we’re well aware of how to play pitch. Cleta continued, “I don’t think there’s a real need for us to go over the rules, but it’s nice to hear a reminder about playing fair and having good sportsmanship. Ok, everyone, let’s find our places at this week’s table assignments.”

“You’re ruthless,” Doris whispered as we got up from our seats at lunch.

“Maybe,” I shrugged, and we made our way to table one. “Well, well, Mabel and Maxine. Funny how this has worked out. S’pose you’ll be tryin’ out some of that table talk from last week?” I said as I slid into my chair. Maxine acted as if she didn’t quite hear me, and Mabel scoffed.

“Table talk ain’t got nothin’ to do with it, Phyllis, and you know it.”

I rolled my top lip under my teeth and tried to keep my mouth shut. Playing cards is about luck and a little bit of strategy, but there’s also something to your state of mind. If a person can get inside the head of the person they’re playing, it raises the chances of seeing a “W” next to their name just a little bit more. And I had been working on Mabel since the moment I walked in the door, and I wasn’t about to let up now.

Doris and I got the first bid. “Hearts,” I called.

Doris tried to lighten the mood with a little bit of small talk for all of us as we lay down our cards.

“Boy, Cleta can make up those pork chops just right, can’t she? Mm, mm. mm. Wednesdays sure are my favorite day of the week, and pie today, too.” No one took the bait. Doris’s attempt was met with one nod, one “sure was good pie,” and a one eyebrow raise (that was me). Doris and I counted up our points, Doris scrawled a seven and a three down on the score pad. “Doris, you can sure make laying them cards down look pretty.” Doris hates when I compliment her just to get in the craw of the person we’re playing.

The bid went around again, and this time it went to Maxine. “Spades,” she called. The round went on, and the tension thickened. After several rounds, we had 46 and they had 43. It was time to turn up the heat and make my move. Luckily, it was my turn to shuffle, so the game was in my hands—I had last bid, and I had a partner who would back me up no matter what (at least during a card game). Maxine and Doris passed their bids. This was always about me and Mabel anyway.

“Eight,” Mabel called flatly.

“Nine,” I shouted.

“Name your suit,” Mabel shot back.

I studied my cards a moment. In all the excitement, I had forgotten to even look at what cards I had. It didn’t matter. I had my partner, and she was do or die. “Hearts,” I said. “Mine’s feeling cold in my chest today. Don’t think I’ma be able to scrounge up any mercy for the likes of you, Mabel.”

With that, I lay down my ace and waited for the rest of the cards to fall. I hoped Doris had the trey. If she did, she’d throw it down now, and is she didn’t, she’d through down a slough card to let me know the school. She threw down a 10 and shifted her eyes nervously. Mabel threw down an eight, and I picked up the pile. I didn’t have the king, so I decided to lay low for a second and throw out the deuce, which I got to keep. Just as I threw out the deuce, I bumped feet with Mabel. “Sorry, Mabel, sure didn’t mean to kick you,” I said as I reached down to pull my knee out of the way with my hand.

Unfortunately, our hands bumped and I felt something—a card. Mabel was trying to pass a card to Maxine under the table, and I just found her out.

“Oh, Mabel, what do we have here?” I asked.

Mabel cast a shamed expression in my direction. It seemed to me that she was waiting to see where I was about to take this information.

“Would you like to tell them, or should I?” I asked her through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Phyllis, it’s not like you’re perfect.”

“Perfect? Oh, I don’t pretend to be perfect, but I know well enough that if someone suspects that I’m a cheater, I’d sure try and keep my cheatin’ to a minimum when I played ‘em. Handin’ cards off under the table, Mabel. Is that really your best strategy when you play someone like me?”

“You drove me to it, Phyllis.” Mabel snarled. “You’ve been trying to make me a fool since you walked in today.”

“Wasn’t ever anything I could do to make you look like a fool, Mabel. Seems you take care of that pretty well on your own,” I said with mock reassurance.

With that, Mabel’s chair went screeching away from the table as its feet dragged on the speckled tile floor. She stood at the table, threw her cards into the center and raised her hand as if she were about to slap me across the face.

“Mabel, get your great big paw outta my face. I’ve never bowed to you, and I s’pose today ain’t the day to start.

Mabel looked around the table. It seemed like this was the first she was realizing that she was the only one on her feet. She huffed, rolled her eyes and looked at Maxine who hardly seemed rattled by the uproar.

“Sorry, Maxine, This week wasn’t our week,” she said.

“Sure wasn’t,” I murmured.

She turned and gave me one last look.

“Oh, and Mabel . . .” I called out as she reached for the handle of the door, “Sorry about your car. I sure do park awful close sometimes.”