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- Уолтер Тевис
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Her
morning
game
was
with
a
Mexican
in
his
early
twenties
.
Beth
had
the
black
pieces
,
played
the
Sicilian
and
caught
him
off
-
guard
on
the
nineteenth
move
.
Then
she
began
wearing
him
down
.
Her
head
was
very
clear
,
and
she
was
able
to
keep
him
so
busy
trying
to
answer
her
threats
that
she
was
able
eventually
to
pick
off
a
bishop
in
exchange
for
two
pawns
and
drive
his
king
into
an
exposed
position
with
a
knight
check
.
When
she
brought
her
queen
out
,
the
Mexican
stood
up
,
smiled
at
her
coldly
and
said
,
“
Enough
.
Enough
.
”
He
shook
his
head
angrily
.
“
I
resign
the
game
.
”
For
a
moment
she
was
furious
,
wanting
to
finish
,
to
drive
his
king
across
the
board
and
checkmate
it
.
“
You
play
a
game
that
is
…
awesome
,
”
the
Mexican
said
.
“
You
make
a
man
feel
helpless
.
”
He
bowed
slightly
,
turned
and
left
the
table
.
*
*
*
Playing
out
the
Girev
game
that
afternoon
,
she
found
herself
moving
with
astonishing
speed
and
force
.
Girev
was
wearing
a
light
-
blue
shirt
this
time
,
and
it
stuck
out
from
his
elbows
like
the
edges
of
a
child
’
s
kite
.
She
sat
at
the
board
impatiently
while
the
tournament
director
opened
the
envelope
and
made
the
pawn
move
she
had
sealed
the
day
before
.
She
got
up
and
paced
across
the
nearly
empty
ballroom
where
two
other
adjournments
were
being
played
out
,
waiting
for
Girev
to
move
.
She
looked
back
across
the
room
toward
him
several
times
and
saw
him
hunched
over
the
board
,
his
little
fists
jammed
into
his
pale
cheeks
,
the
blue
shirt
seeming
to
glow
under
the
lights
.
She
hated
him
—
hated
his
seriousness
and
hated
his
youth
.
She
wanted
to
crush
him
.
She
could
hear
the
click
of
the
clock
button
from
halfway
across
the
room
and
made
a
beeline
back
to
the
table
.
She
did
not
take
her
seat
but
stood
looking
at
the
position
.
He
had
put
his
rook
on
the
queen
bishop
file
,
as
she
had
thought
he
might
.
She
was
ready
for
that
and
pushed
her
pawn
again
,
turned
and
walked
back
across
the
room
.
There
was
a
table
there
with
a
water
pitcher
and
a
few
paper
cups
.
She
poured
herself
a
cup
,
surprised
to
see
that
her
hand
trembled
as
she
did
so
.
By
the
time
she
got
back
to
the
board
,
Girev
had
moved
again
.
She
moved
immediately
,
not
bringing
the
rook
to
defend
but
abandoning
the
pawn
and
instead
advancing
her
king
.
She
picked
the
piece
up
lightly
with
her
fingertips
the
way
she
had
seen
that
piratical
-
looking
man
in
Cincinnati
do
years
before
and
dropped
it
on
the
queen
four
square
,
turned
and
walked
away
again
.
She
kept
it
up
that
way
,
not
sitting
down
at
all
.
Within
three
quarters
of
an
hour
she
had
him
.
It
was
really
simple
—
almost
too
easy
.
It
was
only
a
matter
of
trading
rooks
at
the
right
time
.
The
trade
pulled
his
king
back
a
square
on
the
recapture
,
just
enough
to
let
her
pawn
get
by
and
queen
.
But
Girev
did
not
wait
for
that
;
he
resigned
immediately
after
the
rook
check
and
the
trade
which
followed
.
He
stepped
toward
her
as
if
to
say
something
,
but
seeing
her
face
,
stopped
.
For
a
moment
she
softened
,
remembering
the
child
she
had
been
only
a
few
years
before
and
how
it
devastated
her
to
lose
a
chess
game
.
She
held
out
her
hand
,
and
when
he
shook
it
she
forced
a
smile
and
said
,
“
I
’
ve
never
been
to
a
drive
-
in
either
.
”
He
shook
his
head
.
“
I
should
not
have
let
you
do
that
.
With
the
rook
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
she
said
.
And
then
:
“
How
old
were
you
when
you
started
playing
chess
?
”
