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For a nearly thirteen-year-old boy, thinking about life large-scale is both uninteresting and annoying.
But for Jason, he's reached a point in his own life where he questions the meaning of it. So he tries translating it into the only way he understands the world.
The fluorescent lighting of the hospital room reflects off the chess board making him blink a few times before trying to fully adjust again. Usually, Jason thinks that you're the white side as a human being, but he isn't playing the white side today: he chose black, and the sickly pale man smiled when the boy turned the chess board so he could be white.
Father's neighbour, Cordelia, gave him some food to give Whizzer on his personal hospital visit. His Mother thanked her kindly, as she's waiting with Jason's stepdad-slash-psychiatrist outside of the hospital room now. It was dinnertime, and Jason insisted that this be a "Whizzer Dinner."
Life is funny sometimes, other times it's boring and confusing. The only thing that ever made sense was chess, and that's when his Mother and Father began to worry: they knew he stopped trying to understand much else.
Jason moved one pawn two spaces forward, as anyone usually does. Jason made the first two steps forward when he was little, too. He smiled when Mother smiled at him and laughed when Father would play baby games with him, but four-years-old was when he stopped being able to go two steps forward with his pawns, as they had been used up,
And it became a difficulty to even make one step.
***
Jason didn't really talk until he was around six years old, or at least, not in public. It's not like he didn't talk at home, constantly babbling about something new that interested him: it was only when they stepped into his kindergarten when his asocial behaviour blossomed into a concern.
"He's a delight to have in class," Mrs. Silvers, Jason's kindergarten teacher said to Mother and Father, "but he tends to ignore the other students that want to play with him. Now, he isn't... mean, just disinterested. Do you know why?"
Mother looked at Father, searching for answers. When Father didn't reply, she looked back at the teacher and says, "No, we- I mean, I don't have a clue. Marvin?"
"He talks all the time at home, so that can't be right." Father says, Mother smiled and nodded, "Yes, yes! All the time!" Mrs. Silvers moved her glasses to mount atop her hair and said, "Perhaps he doesn't know how to make intimate connections. Are you two thinking of having more children? It would be a shame if he couldn't share the childhood experience with someone if he is asocial." Mrs. Silvers eyes landed on Marvin's king, now in check. With a little extra effort, her rook could have a chance at checkmate in the positions they were in.
"Well, we've been discuss-"
But Father gets nauseous at these games.
"We... appreciate your insight. Trina, let's get Jason and leave. It's almost dinnertime." Father said, and got up out of his seat to fix his tie and unwrinkle his clothing. He glares at Mrs. Silvers grey eyes and shudders. Mother shut her mouth, grabbed her bags and politely asked where the bathroom was before taking a silent Jason by the hand and heading towards the restrooms.
As Jason got older, he talked even more than he already did. However, despite his parents efforts, talking to other people or making friends with his peers still wasn't something that interested him. They were thrilled to learn that Jason wanted to play baseball, as that could be a great way to connect to the other Jewish families who were in his baseball league. But Jason didn't talk to anyone unless he had to. He got there, (poorly) played ball, and left.
Whizzer moves two spaces forward.
***
At some point, when Jason was around ten-years-old, one of his two friends (Mother and Father) began coming home later and missing dinner. Jason would pick at his food, the scraping of the fork would fill the silence.
He couldn't tell if he was angry at Mother or Father. Mother, who refuses to call Father even though he's late to dinner for the fourth night in a row. If she says she knows where he is, why can't she call him? There has to be a phone nearby. Why does she just let him leave so frequently? And then there's Father, who can't seem to stay home for longer than four hours total each day, and two of those are getting up to leave for work in the morning and whatever he does at night. The other two are spent on Jason and Trina during breakfast and whenever Jason wakes up at 4:00 in the morning just to catch his weatherman Father for just a little longer.
Why is it so hard for both of them to work?
Jason didn't understand marriage, girls, boys, parents, friends, family, love- anything. It's not like they ever understand him or anything either. How can Jason expect Mother and Father to get him when they can't even sit down at 6:30 pm and eat together? Why do they still try? It doesn't make any sense.
Is this what love was supposed to look like? Jason would ask himself this question often, the less he saw of Father and the more crying he saw of Mother would make it pop up each time.
The most beautiful thing in the world, Father said.
How was it beautiful when it looked like this?
"Jason, eat your food." Jason's scraping gets louder, as he moves his green beans in circles. He hated green beans, and he hadn't ate them since he was four.
He wants to hate Mother and Father. He wants to hate these friends he doesn't feel like he has.
Jason can't eat dinner with all of these questions swimming around in his head.
"Jason." Mother said.
For the first time in a while, Jason didn't want to talk to this friend of his. He didn't want to talk to his friend who will stumble home a lot later either.
He wanted a friend who made sense. So after he forced food down his throat, he went to his closest thing to a third friend: chess.
But soon, another friend would knock on their doorstep one day for a planned dinner. And so, Jason moves one step forward.
Ding dong, the doorbell rang that very day.
Whizzer snags his pawn.
***
Whizzer had been coming over the past weeks, and Jason had been eyeing him. They never often Father's parents aside from the occasional phone conversation with Grandmother asking if Jason wanted siblings - Grandfather, Mother's dad would ask the same thing, except his tone of voice came off as a warning. Jason doesn't think Grandfather would agree with Grandmother, but it's not like they had met more than once - so having Whizzer around was strange.
One evening, Whizzer sat down on the couch next to Jason when Mother and Father were in the kitchen, "politely" arguing about what they thing Whizzer would like to have for dinner. The living room was quiet aside from faint, somewhat controlled "raising of the voice."
Jason had just put himself in check, and right before he moved his bishop to beat himself for the third time today, Whizzer spoke. "You're pretty fast at chess. Mind if I play after you beat yourself again?"
Jason blinked at Whizzer several times. Mother hadn't encouraged him to play chess since it became all he ever wanted to do, and Father just wasn't fun to play with. Jason quickly reset the chess board and slid it across the table where Whizzer could reach.
"Mind if I take black this time?"
"Yeah, I wanna go first."
Whizzer chuckled at that.
The same chuckle he let out at this moment, except this one was weak - this one felt like it had aged faster than it should've. Jason didn't know what Whizzer was chuckling at. This wasn't his warm home they were in, it was the cold hospital with that hideous lighting. The cold unfamiliar hospital Jason is desperate to leave. He just doesn't want to leave without Whizzer behind him. That's what he told god, whomever that guy may be.
***
Two years ago, Mother and Father got a divorce because Father is a homosexual. Jason didn't know who he was upset at, but he hated Father for a long time. No more Father also meant no more Whizzer, but after a long time of searching, Jason found where Marvin wrote down Whizzer's phone number before he left for school.
He stood in front of the phone just a block down from his school. It was the end of the day, and usually, this was the day his stepfather-slash-psychiatrist Mendel would pick him up because baseball practice let out too late for Trina's comfort, especially since his team wasn't exactly good at baseball. However, Mendel was running late.
It was just Jason and the phone, his money, and so he dialed.
Click. "Whizzer?"
"...Jason?" The voice over the phone said. "Well, I almost didn't recognise you. Your voice seems to be changing a little."
Jason giggled, "My voice hasn't changed too much."
"Oh, nonsense. I bet you've grown taller too." Whizzer said, and it almost made Jason forget why he called in the first place. A long pause hung over the phone call, "Jason?"
"Whizzer, I know dad and you don't talk anymore, but I have a baseball game on Saturday and I want you to come. The only people I invited were my mother, father, psychiatrist and the two lesbians next door, so it isn't a big party."
Whizzer let out a loud cackle over the phone, and Jason would laugh too if it weren't for his anxiousness. He didn't know if Whizzer would respond the way he wanted him to: "yes."
"You're doing baseball now?"
"At my school. Will you go?"
"Well..."
Jason's heart sped up. Having Whizzer at his game would be like inviting friends to his birthday party, but it wasn't like he had many of those. Whizzer was a friend, so this mattered. Jason loves Whizzer anyhow.
"I'll stop by."
Jason smiled. He would see Whizzer again for the first time in a very long time. "Alright!" He said excitedly his baseball helmet flipping as he jumped up.
"You better head home now, yeah? It's getting close to dinner."
And with that, Whizzer hung up and Mendel came at that moment. Jason put down the phone before Mendel had come around the corner, "Sorry it took so long, this girl named Caroline kept me for what felt like forever. Let's go, Jason!"
Jason followed Mendel silently with a smile on his face. Whatever Mendel was saying about psychological habits and the essence of pretending things are alright flew in through one ear and out the other.
Whizzer would be at Jason's baseball game, Jason would move his bishop three spaces to the right.
***
Whizzer coughs after Jason makes his move, and Jason almost panics. He quickly starts pouring water, spilling a little bit onto the table. Whizzer chuckles at that again. Why is he laughing?
Why is he laughing when he's just going to cough again?
"I'm fine, Jason." He says, but Jason doesn't believe him. Jason tends not to believe things, so Jason hands the water to him anyway. Whizzer sighs and gulps it down then clears his throat. "See? I'm fine."
Jason wanted to say "No, you're not." He wanted to scream it like his father would. Like Father almost did on the phone when he first told Jason and Mother that Whizzer was getting sick, but he was too stunned to raise his voice. He stammered like Jason did when he was five and Mrs. Silvers tried to get him to talk to his male classmate, except this time, Father was in pain. Jason was merely disinterested and talking was a chore.
But Jason stayed silent. Whizzer looked into his eyes with pity and took his hand, "Come on, boy. Let's play some chess. I'll beat you this time."
Jason tried to smile, "Not if I can help it."
But his smile was less of an arc and more of a crooked fence.
***
Jason wasn't into God, being Jewish and all. But as of recently, he felt like he should try talking to him.
He put his hands in a praying position, "Hello god." Jason whispered. He suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious, even though he was only just in his room.
"I don't think we've ever spoken, but if it's okay with you, how about a miracle?"
Is that too much to ask considering the state of our relationship? Jason asked himself, but he shrugged and carried on anyway. "I don't know if you're even real. Maybe you're a big psychiatrist, but if you can make miracles: make my friend stop dying."
Jason felt a pang in his chest.
"I don't know if you know him, but his name is Whizzer, uh, Brown- Whizzer Brown. He's also Jewish like I am." Jason swallowed the lump in his throat and got himself to continue.
"I'm not naive, I know it'll be hard. But you're god, I think, so... hard things are part of your job."
The moon shines through his window curtains and he sighed at the sight. Jason wondered if Whizzer was an at angle where he could see the moon from the Hospital window.
"I don't think I want a Bar Mitzvah," he whispers, "but I'll have one if he stops dying. If you could grant me that one miracle, then I'll have a bar mitzvah and I'll make so many more friends."
Jason feels a tear drop down his face.
"Just don't kill the best friend I've ever had. That would be," Jason lets out a shaky sigh, "a miracle of Judaism. Uh, amen."
He quickly wiped his tears and flops down on his bed trying not to cry like Mother would and scream how Father would.
How can love be the most beautiful thing if it hurts like this?
What about that is beautiful?
***
Jason has Whizzer's king in check.
And for once, chess has him feeling the worst he's ever felt. He doesn't want to take Whizzer's king.
"We might as well call it quits, I'm already in check, kid. Let's just eat this food before it-"
Jason moves his queen one step forward. The same queen that was six steps away from the king, unable to put him in checkmate in just one move. Whizzer is stunned.
"Jason?"
"You can win this time."
"Jason..."
"Just win this one time." Jason is practically begging him.
"I have a feeling this is more than just chess." Whizzer notices and Jason feels himself unravel. "Is winning what you want me to do?"
"I asked god to let you win, too." Jason says, tapping on the chess board. Whizzer chuckles that stupidly happy chuckle and clicks Jason's king off the board with his own.
"Checkmate."
Jason embraced Whizzer, making all the chess pieces go flying.
That feels like a miracle of Judaism.
***
"My father says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world," Jason tells god that night, after leaving the hospital where he played chess with Whizzer.
"I think I agree with him now."