The Gamblers

by Donna Poole

He’d lived with her for four years and thought by now he knew everything there was to know about her, but who knows anyone, really? This was the first time he’d suggested playing cards for money. She hadn’t wanted to, but he’d talked her into it. His stash was getting a bit low, and he’d thought she’d be easy money.

I wish I’d never started this game, but I can’t quit now.

He tried not to fidget or give away his nervousness. A good gambler never does that; no one had to tell him. He knew it instinctively. Gambling was in his blood.

He studied his opponent. Older than he was, she probably wouldn’t have been his first choice to live with, but when you’re down on your luck, you take what you can get. Her hair was getting the tiniest bit gray around the temples, but she was still beautiful. Her blue eyes met his with a smile, but he didn’t smile back.

She held her smile.

If he only knew how I’ve lied and cheated in this game. He doesn’t know I have it in me. But when the stakes are this high, you gotta do what you gotta do.

The smile made him even more nervous than he already was. His hands felt clammy.

What cards is she holding? I can’t tell by her face. She’s scaring me.

He glanced at the money he had left on the table. That pile and one more thing, his prized possession, were all he had left. She’d taken everything else. He studied his cards and her face. Everyone always said about him that he had a gift for knowing what people were thinking, but it wasn’t working this time, not with her.

Had he ever known what she was thinking? He wasn’t sure. And then he lost that hand. And the next. He knew he should quit, but he couldn’t. He shoved his prized possession to the middle of the table and glared at her.

When he’d lost the last hand he’d felt like crying, except he’d never cried once. Not in the four years he’d lived with her.

He loved her, but he was so angry he couldn’t even look at her. She’d known what this game had meant to him, and she’d taken everything.

“I’m going to bed.”

He hadn’t looked at her, and she hadn’t answered.

She sat at the table, calmly gathering the cash into a pile, thinking I couldn’t let him win. Yes, he had a lot to lose, but I had more. If only I’d steeled my heart against that other gambler, I wouldn’t have lost my beautiful house. I wouldn’t be living in this stinking, low-income apartment fighting roaches and bed bugs and listening to drunken brawls through thin walls every night. I’ll never let another gambler win, not if I can help it, especially not this one I just took for everything he’s got. I love him too much. Gambling’s in his blood, I know it is. And I don’t know if I can flush it out, but God help me, I’m going to do my best.

She was exhausted, more tired than she’d ever been, but she went to check on him. The night was chilly, and she wanted to be sure he wasn’t cold. She pulled a blanket up carefully, trying not to wake him. She wondered how long he’d be angry with her.

He woke up and looked at her with those beautiful blue eyes so like her own.

“Goodnight, Grandma. I’m not mad at you anymore. Gambling’s stupid, isn’t it?”

And then he rolled over and popped his thumb in his mouth.

Four-years-old might be too old to suck your thumb, but she never tried to stop him. Poor baby. His father, her son, had staggered drunkenly into her apartment and had dropped him on her table on a cold winter’s day. The newborn had worn only a soaking wet diaper. His mother had died in childbirth a few weeks earlier.

“Here you go, Mom,” her son had said. “I’ve gambled away everything you own and my own life, but don’t say I never gave you anything.”

He’d disappeared into the night before she could say a word. The court had given her custody of the baby.

She didn’t know if her son was dead or alive.

She went back to the kitchen and sat at the table. Then she dropped her head to her arms, confessed her lying and cheating, and prayed for her son.

“Lord, help us all.”

She cried for a while. Then she wiped her face.

She looked at the mess on the table and laughed.

She put the pile of pennies back into the piggy bank, his dearest treasure, the one engraved with his name, Thomas J. Thompson II. Tonight had been Tommy’s first experience with gambling, hopefully it would be his last. If not, she’d be smarter than she’d been with her son, Tom. She knew what to watch for now, and she knew where to get help.

She picked up the cards from the table. Then she picked up the ones she’d hidden on the chair next to her to win the last hand. She put them all back into the box.

“Go Fish,” she whispered.