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It's a miserable Sunday afternoon, but nothing makes me more miserable than my husband sitting in front of me playing Scrabble.
It's a hot day, and I can feel the tension in the air as we sit in the living room. I can't help but think about how distant my husband seems. It’s frustrating, and it makes me wonder what I've done to make him feel this way.
I'm playing Scrabble with a man who would rather claw his eyes out than spend time with me. But I digress; this is how fate has worked, and I can't change the past now.
My husband plays the word "BEGIN," scoring twenty-two points immediately.
I almost want to laugh in his face as he plays that word. Idiot—he can't figure out anything! Why did I marry him again? I rearrange my letters,
clack, clack, clack.
Then, I noticed a word I can make with these letters: "JINXED."
I play "JINXED," placing the "J" on a double-letter score. That's thirty points! I'm beating him. Obviously, he's not hard to win against. It would be harder to lose to him than to win. I can see my husband's face; he's clearly unhappy with the current score. Too bad for him. I’m just the smarter person.
It’s my husband’s turn, and I can see him chewing on his letter like some dog. It’s disgusting. I have bad habits, sure, but chewing on a letter like you’re some first-grader is beyond gross. I might have to touch that.
I watch as he searches through his letters, moving so slowly I thought I’d fall asleep before he placed it dow. Surely, he can find something with the letters MIHZPA. My husband plays "WARMER" for 22 points. It starts to get hotter. Hotter than it's ever been.
I realize I need to focus on my own letters. I look down at what I have: WETIERS. Suddenly, I spotted a word.
I play "SWEATIER", using all my letters. That’s 24 points plus a 50-point bonus. I notice my husband giving me a murderous look; he’s such a sore loser. Is it getting hotter here? I glance at my palms—they’re sweaty and clammy. I need rain. I need something to take away this feeling of melting in my own skin.
I watch as a light bulb goes off in my husband’s brain. He plays the word
"HUMID" on the "D" of "JINXED", hitting a double-word score. The letter U makes a little splash of saliva when he puts it down. Gross. Another 22 points for him. I can tell he’s hoping I’ll lose this game so he can feel some power over me.
Guess his hope was right because I have the worst letters in history.
“My letters are lousy, these are terrible,” I tell him, and I can see the hatred grow in his eyes.
It’s too hot in here, and with the letters I have, I play the word "FAN", placing the "F" on a double letter. I really need it but I don’t see anywhere and I’m really thirsty. Finally, I get up to fill the kettle—I’m thirsty, and it really has gotten too hot. I turn on the air conditioning unit to get some much needed cool air.
I went to turn on the air conditioning just as my husband played the word "ZAPS," with the letter 'Z' doubled.
At that moment, I received a static shock from the air conditioning unit. We definitely need a better air conditioning unit; I shouldn't have to get shocked every time I touch it. I give it a good whack for shocking me.
When I looked over at my husband, it was the first time I noticed something that resembled a smile on his face. He seems happy with my pain. Bastard.
I sit back down with a heavy sigh. Back to these lousy letters again. I fiddle for a while, trying to find something usefulness out of these letters.
Clack clack. Clack clack.
I notice a shift in my husband's behavior as I’m trying to find a word. Usually, he gives me dirty looks or grumpy grunts, but this is different. I feel my life hanging on a single thread—a tiny, ever-short string. I feel like he could kill me right now. Maybe I can dodge or run before? Hide? Attack?
I could try and grab my pepper spray and run off. Maybe this is just the boiling point of 5 years of worthless time, energy, money on this god forsaken relationship, of wasting our best years on a man child who can’t even go a day without a complaint, maybe-
Then as quickly as it was, the shift almost disappears as he sits back down. I don't think it's just me when it feels like my heart beats out of my chest. The kettle starts whistling. I had almost forgotten I had the kettle on. I focus on the game again.
I play "READY" on a double word for 18 points, and then I go to pour myself a cup of tea. I need a break from my thoughts and tension.
"Do you want some tea?"
I get no response from my husband so I just pour some for myself. I hear some rustling while I'm pouring. Is he going into the letter bag? I turn around suspiciously when I see my husband just sitting in his chair as if nothing has happened. I set my cup of tea down on the table, careful not to let it slip too far over the edge, but the ring it leaves behind is a reminder of our ongoing game. As I glance up, I catch him quickly tossing a letter back into his rack. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, but I shake it off.
He plays an 8-letter word "CHEATING", connecting it to the "A" of "READY". I feel a rush of disbelief as he rakes in the points, including the 50-point bonus.
"Did you cheat?" I ask, unable to hide the suspicion in my voice.
I can feel a wave of frustration wash over me. It’s not just about this game; it’s the way he seems to revel in the win, leaving me in the dust. My heart sinks, and I can't shake off the feeling that there's more going on here than just a friendly match.
I play "IGNORE" on the triple-word for 21 points, feeling a small surge of triumph as the score updates to 153 for me, and 155 for him. The steam rising from my cup of tea makes the room feel even warmer, amplifying the tension between us. I glance at my rack of letters, trying to form something useful, something that will shift the game in my favor. But all I can muster is “SIN”—hardly a game-changer.
As I watc him struggle, I can sense his frustration mounting. A flicker of amusement crosses my mind—if only there was some clever way to get him to take a break. Then, suddenly, I see him clear his throat, a glimmer of determination in his eyes.
He spots the chance to use all his letters. "EXPLODES", he plays, claiming the "X" of "JINXED". The score jumps dramatically, a staggering 72 points. I can’t help but feign a laugh at his need to one-up me. But then, just as he places the last letter down, a deafening bang echoes through the room, and the air conditioning unit goes silent. Maybe I shouldn’t have hit the AC that hard.
Amid the chaos, I can’t help but feel a mix of shock and exhilaration—this game is heating up in more ways than one.
My husband's heart is racing, but I can see it's not just from the shock of the bang. He looks like he’s in disbelief, and I can’t help but feel uneasy. The way he’s staring at the Scrabble board, I know he’s got something wild brewing in his mind. I need to know if it’s real. If it’s true or if I’m going crazy and the Scrabble isn’t some Jumaji.
I played the word "SIGN", piling up points with the "N" on a triple letter. No way this is real. A Scrabble game can't make things happen in real life?
I think about the letters and how they might have made the air conditioning unit explode, and suddenly it all sounds absurdly possible. The explosion, The zap, the fan. The words seemingly coming true, the game being… JINXED. I shake my head. It feels like a stretch, but the tension in the room is palpable.
I watch my husband as he frantically analyzes his tiles, convinced he needs to test this theory. His rack is strange: ABQYFWE. I can’t help but smirk at how limited his options are, and I wonder what he’ll come up with. Then he starts chewing on the B, deep in thought.
When he plays “FLY”, using the L from my last word, I can’t help but roll my eyes. He leans back in his chair, eyes closed, waiting for something miraculous – as if he truly believes he might take off. It’s ridiculous, and yet, I can sense his anticipation in the air. Does he really think he can fly?
I almost laugh when all that happens is a fly buzzing above the board. Just a regular insect, hovering like it owns the place, hardly the grand revelation he was hoping for. I glance at him, trying to mask my amusement. If the letters have power, like he thinks they do, then what else could come from this wild game?
I can see my husband gazing at the Scrabble board as if it's his lifeline. What exactly is he thinking?
I play the word "CAUTION," using a blank tile for the "N," scoring 18 points. I am aware of how intense my husband can be. He has always struggled to keep control in life, and I also know he's not entirely happy in our marriage. I want to make it clear that if he tries anything too extreme or becomes overly confident, I won't hesitate to push back. I'm beating him. That amazing feeling of triumph is quickly overshadowed by the weight of the atmosphere. My husband seems lost in thought, his focus narrowed to the tiles in front of him.
He stares at his rack, a confusing mix of letters: AQWEUK, and the B he rolls around in his mouth like a nervous tic. There's a flicker of frustration in his eyes; I can see it. He yearns for something more than just the letters in front of him. A part of me wants to know what he’s thinking, to share in whatever dark excitement has gripped him.
Cheating has crossed his mind, I’m sure of it. I can almost hear him contemplating the letters that could create a chance to kill. It’s in the way he grips his tiles tighter as if they might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. And then his expression shifts; something darker takes hold.
There’s a sudden clarity in his gaze as if he’s been struck by a revelation. I wonder what word has captured his imagination, what powerful and terrible concept he’s conjuring up now. Whatever it is, I know it won’t be light or forgiving. It’s a moment filled with unspoken intentions, a subtle reminder of the game we’re both playing—one that transcends the board in front of us. This has gone too far and it's clear only one of us is walking away from this.
I watch as my husband puts the word "QUAKE" for 19 points.
I can see the gears turning in his head. He's getting cocky, too cocky as if he's the king when I was the one who started this Jinxed game. I had warned him and now the time had come.
As the earth starts to quake I put the word "DEATH" in for 34 points. I watch as my husband suddenly gasps and claws at his throat. I suddenly remember the B he was chewing on in his mouth. At this point, he's drawing blood. But I refused to help. This is a reward. This is deserved. This is fate and karma at the same time. He would've taken the chance to kill me before I blinked.
As my husband falls to the floor I watch as he takes his final agonizing breath, as the feeling of freedom starts to become more and more clear.