Flee

I'm considering giving up chess. As in never playing again. Not even in Washington Square Park with Mr. Haq or Zolov or Renny. Definitely not with Sam. Not with anybody. The fact of the matter is that I can't play anymore. I've lost my edge. The game confuses me. The last few times I played, I couldn't strategize. I was losing left and right. And for a grand master, that's humiliating.

More to the point, my life has always felt like chess, like combat. Life makes its move, and I make mine. Maybe I haven't been exactly comfortable with the setup, but at the very least I've been used to it. It's all I've ever really known.

Now it seems like I'm no longer even a player in my own game. I feel more like a pawn. And I'm not even sure of the sides. In the past it was easy to make out black from white, but now the board is a blur of gray.

Who is the white knight? My father or my Uncle Oliver?

I've had my doubts about all of this before. But I've never been as confused as I am now. The simple facts are these: my father is gone again, and Oliver is back -- asking me to live with him. And Sam? I can't even go there. My feelings about him are a negative image of what they on ... read full excerpt from Flee ebook