The Cardturner: A Novel About Imperfect Partners and Infinite Possibilities Read online

  You would think it would have been easy in this case, since I hated Toni, and since I was just calling her back.

  You would think.

  My mother was waiting for me as I stepped out of the bathroom, Toni’s phone number in her hand. For someone who supposedly hated the Castanedas, she was awfully insistent.

  I went to my room and called Toni on my cell.

  “Hello?”

  “Toni?” I asked.

  “No, this is her father. Who’s this?”

  For the record, although his initial hello might have been slightly high-pitched, Toni’s father had a normal masculine voice.

  “Alton,” I said.

  “I didn’t get that.”

  “Alton,” I repeated.

  I don’t think I’ve ever said my name just one time to anyone.

  A short while later Toni came on the line. “Hi, Alton,” she said cheerfully.

  “My mom said you called,” I said cheerlessly.

  “Your mom seems really cool,” said Toni.

  That answered that question. Of course, everyone knew the Castanedas were bonkers.

  I stared out my window at the disaster known as our backyard and waited for her to say whatever it was she had called to say.

  She got right to it. “Why do you pretend you don’t know how to play bridge?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, neither admitting to nor denying her accusation. I felt like I’d been caught, but I wasn’t quite sure what I was being accused of.

  “You knew about the takeout double,” she said. “I saw it in your eyes. And you’re always trying to guess what card he’ll play before he plays it.”

  “I may have picked up a little, watching him play,” I said.

  “You need to tell him!” she said. “He’d love it if you played bridge. He’s always saying how he wishes more young people would take up the game. He’s afraid that bridge is like a dying culture. He’s worried that in like thirty years, there will be no one left to play it.”

  “Well, I’ve never actually played,” I said. “And I never can figure out what bid he’s going to make.”

  “Bidding’s not that hard, once you learn the basics. Trapp and Gloria use a complicated system and I’m trying to learn it, but you don’t have to do all that. You just have to know which bids are game-forcing, which ones are invitational, and which ones are just cooperative.”11

  The words meant nothing to me. “O-kay,” I said hesitantly.

  She laughed. “I can teach you,” she offered.

  I thought it over.

  “Okay, sure,” I said.

  “Maybe we can have a game,” she said. “Do you know two other people who might want to play?”

  I knew one for sure. Leslie had been dying to play.

  “My sister,” I said. “She’s only eleven, but she’s real sharp. And I have a friend who’s really good at cards.”

  “Great,” said Toni. “How about tomorrow?”

  I told her I’d check with my friend first and call her back.

  It’s funny how you can go from hating a girl to maybe liking her, maybe liking her a lot, just because she shows a little interest in you. I pictured Toni in my mind. Her shy smile. The freckles across the bridge of her nose. The way she concentrated so intently when she was playing bridge with Trapp.

  I was reminded of the girl who had sat next to me in freshman algebra. We didn’t have traditional desks. Two students shared a table. I’d watch her out of the corner of my eye as she tried to factor algebraic equations. She was oblivious to the world around her, oblivious that I was sitting next to her, as she chewed on the tip of her eraser. It made my heart ache, she was so beautiful.

  That girl had blond hair, and Toni’s hair was dark, but they both had that same look of innocent and total concentration.

  I called Cliff.

  I should tell you that so far, when I’ve recounted my conversations with Cliff, I’ve left out certain descriptive words. It’s not that we’re especially vulgar or crude. It’s just that those kinds of words seem worse in print than they do when we would just say them in an offhand way. I think I’ve been able to omit those words and still give you a fairly accurate account of what was said between us.

  However, if I were to try to repeat what Cliff said when I asked him if he wanted to play bridge, I’d have to leave out every other word. Let’s just say he wasn’t overjoyed with the idea.

  Still, he was my best friend, and when he realized I was serious (adverb deleted), and that it was important to me (adverb deleted), he agreed to play (adverb deleted).

  “But afternoon only,” he said. “Katie and I have plans for tomorrow night.”

  He normally wouldn’t have mentioned Katie. He would have said something like “I’m busy tomorrow night.” I think he just wanted to twist the knife a bit, since he’d agreed to do me a favor.

  As I expected, Leslie was thrilled to finally get to play bridge. She wasn’t too thrilled, however, that Cliff would be our fourth.

  “He’s a big goof-off,” she said. “He won’t concentrate on the game. He’ll just make stupid jokes.”

  Leslie was a lot like her uncle Lester. She took her bridge very seriously.

  “Besides …,” Leslie said.

  “What?”

  She didn’t say, but I knew what she was thinking. She blamed Cliff for what had happened between Katie and me.

  Like a football coach getting his team ready for the second half, once again I had to pump myself up to call Toni. You would think it would have been easier for me the second time, but you would be wrong.

  She answered the phone this time.

  “We’re on,” I said. “You, me, Cliff, and Leslie.”

  I told her two o’clock, and she said she was looking forward to it.

  “So why did you call me?” I asked, regretting the question as soon as it came out of my mouth.

  “What do you mean?”

  What I meant was this: we hadn’t exactly been friendly at the bridge studio. She mostly ignored me, and my attitude toward her can best be described as surly. But I didn’t say that to Toni.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I mean, I was just … surprised you called.”

  “My grandmother told me to,” said Toni.

  “Oh. Okay,” I said. “Well, see you tomorrow. You’ll really like Cliff.”

  28

  Toni’s Grandmother and President Nixon

  I had felt so awkward asking Toni that question that I readily accepted the answer she gave, and really didn’t think about what she said until after I hung up. Her answer was even stranger than my question.

  Everybody has two grandmothers, I realized; in fact, Toni had three, if you count the woman Henry King married later on. I had no reason to assume Toni was talking about Trapp’s “perfect partner,” his ex-wife’s insane sister. I had also assumed that person had died.

  If she was still alive, and living with Toni’s family, it would explain why Trapp went there for dinner. But why didn’t he play bridge with her anymore? Did she even remember how to play, or was her mind too far gone?

  But that wasn’t what made Toni’s answer so strange. Why would Toni’s grandmother (whichever one it was) tell her to call me? I had never met any of them, except perhaps at Trapp’s birthday party eleven years ago. To use an expression my own grandmother used to say, they didn’t know me from Adam.

  Besides, since when does a teenage girl call up a boy at the suggestion of her grandmother?

  I wandered back out into the kitchen.

  “Well?” asked my mother.

  “Well, what?”

  “Well, Toni?”

  When I told my mother about our upcoming bridge party, you would have thought from her reaction that she must not have heard me clearly. She must have thought I had said the Queen of England was coming for tea.

  She immediately started cleaning everything in sight as she worried about what she would serve.

 
“Potato chips?” I suggested.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, then ordered me to vacuum the living room.

  My father came home in a bad mood. He had spent half the day filling out forms at the unemployment office, and hardly said a word during dinner. Not that I’m such a sparkling conversationalist either. Usually the most they can pry out of me are a few “Uh-huhs” and “Pass the applesauce.”

  “It’s bad enough losing a job,” he said finally. “Then some condescending government worker treats you like you’re some kind of welfare cheat. It’s my money!”

  “Pass the applesauce,” I said.

  “I’ve paid unemployment insurance for seventeen years,” my father continued. “All I want is what’s rightfully mine. Those government clerks never worked at a real job in their lives.”

  My father doesn’t like government workers any better than he likes car salesmen and pool contractors. He didn’t like people on welfare, either.

  My mother interrupted his diatribe to tell him that “the Castaneda girl” would be coming to our home the next day.

  “We’re going to play bridge,” Leslie said happily.

  My father withdrew back into his silence.

  “Is Toni’s grandmother still alive?” I asked. “Or did she die in the insane asylum?”

  My mother stared at me like I was the one who belonged in an insane asylum. “Now, don’t you go asking Toni a lot of stupid questions about her grandmother. Try to act like a normal human being.”

  “I was just curious what ever happened to her,” I persisted.

  “She went crazy,” said my mother. “They locked her in an asylum.”

  “I mean after that. Did they ever let her out? Is she still alive?”

  “She’s dead,” my father said flatly. “She died in the asylum. Nixon led the investigation into her death.”

  I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “Nixon?” I repeated. “President Nixon?” I had learned about Nixon and Watergate in U.S. History.

  “It was before he became president,” said my father.

  “Senator King was a very important man, from a very prominent family,” said my mother. “When his wife died at such a young age, you can be sure there was an investigation.”

  “What did they find out?” asked Leslie.

  “About what?” asked my mother.

  “How did she die?”

  My parents didn’t know.

  “I think it was ruled a suicide,” said my father.

  “Those were different times,” my mother explained. “Before CNN. People’s privacy was respected. It was bad enough for Senator King that he married such a person. The public didn’t need to know all the embarrassing details.”

  Embarrassing? I wondered. His wife kills herself, and he’s embarrassed?

  29

  A Silver Ice Bucket

  I didn’t know we owned a silver ice bucket. Tiny silver tongs, too. They had been placed on a silver tray, along with several bottles of soda. There was also the box of fancy cookies that had been sitting on the top shelf of a cabinet for as long as I could remember. Leslie and I had been forbidden to open it. Until now.

  My mother had gone to a store and purchased a “bridge set,” which included two decks of cards and a special score pad with the words We and They printed on it. She also bought a cheese ball.

  “You’re wearing that?” she asked me.

  I didn’t reply. I was wearing what I was wearing.

  “Can you at least comb your hair?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to answer it?”

  I opened the door to see Toni’s nervous smile. “Hi,” she said quietly.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  My mother told me to quit standing there like a bump on a log. “Invite your guest to come inside.”

  “Come on in,” I said.

  “Welcome to our humble home,” said my mother.

  “Thank you,” said Toni.

  “And how are your parents?” my mother asked her.

  “They’re fine, thanks.”

  “We go way back, you know.”

  “Yes, they’ve told me about you,” said Toni.

  That couldn’t be good, I thought.

  “Too bad you never got to know your grandparents,” said my mother. “I think it’s tragic when a family can’t get along.”

  “It was tragic,” Toni agreed.

  “Are you still seeing the same psychiatrist?” my mother asked. “What’s his name?”

  “Don’t answer that,” I said, then told my mother to “quit badgering her.”

  “I’m not badgering anyone. I’m just making friendly conversation. She’s your guest, and you’ve hardly said a word. Somebody has to pick up the slack.”

  “It’s all right,” said Toni. “His name’s Dr. Ellsworth.”

  “Ellsworth’s a good man,” my mother said, as if she had a clue. “Are you taking medication?”

  “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed. This from a woman who complained about people’s privacy not being respected anymore.

  “It’s no big deal,” said Toni. “Yes, Mrs. Richards. I have a prescription to control my schizophrenia.”

  My mother shot me an I-told-you-so look. Then she turned back to Toni and told her she had “wonderful poise. Don’t you think so, Alton?”

  “Yeah, she’s got great poise.”

  Toni smiled.

  “It’s wonderful that the world of medicine has come so far,” my mother said. “Too bad those drugs weren’t around for your grandmother.”

  For the first time I thought I saw a flash of defiance in Toni’s eyes. “There was nothing the matter with my grandmother,” she said. “She didn’t need medication.”

  “Well, I’m no psychiatrist,” my mother admitted.

  I managed to lead Toni away from my mother and into the living room. We sat down at the card table across from each other. She began shuffling one of the decks of cards, and I shuffled the other.

  “Sorry about my mother,” I said.

  “It’s okay. My parents warned me about her,” Toni said, then instantly put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “No, I know,” I assured her. “If anybody needs a psychiatrist, it’s her.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I like Dr. Ellsworth,” said Toni. “But I don’t take the meds.”

  I started to say she seemed perfectly normal to me, but stopped myself in time. I’d already put one foot in my mouth.

  I had told Leslie to stay away until Cliff arrived, so I could have some time alone with Toni, but that wasn’t working out exactly as planned. I’m a lot smoother in my daydreams than I am in real life.

  “Are you having a pool put in?” Toni asked, looking at the backyard through the sliding glass door.

  “No,” I said.

  We continued to shuffle our cards.

  “So, what else do you like to do, besides play bridge?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, different things,” said Toni. “My friend and I are making a quilt.”

  “A quilt?”

  Her face reddened. “You think that’s really lame, don’t you? Who is this loser?”

  “No, not at all,” I said.

  I tried to think of something fascinating to say about quilts, but nothing came to mind.

  Leslie stepped into the room. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess Cliff’s not here yet. Big surprise.”

  I told her to come join us.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “Leslie’s been bugging me for weeks to play bridge,” I told Toni, “and now she’s afraid to enter the room.”

  That was unfair. For one thing, Leslie was never a pest. She shot me an accusatory glance, but then, not wanting to make me look bad in front of Toni, she smiled sweetly.

  “It�
��s a great game,” said Toni. “You’ll love it.”

  Leslie went to the ice bucket. She picked up a single ice cube using the tiny silver tongs and dropped it into her glass. Kerplunk! Then another. Kerplunk! Then another. Kerplunk!

  From the way Toni and I watched her you would have thought she was performing delicate surgery.

  Leslie noticed our stares. “You want a soda?” she offered.

  “No thanks,” said Toni.

  “I’m cool,” I said, being anything but.

  30

  The Life of the Party

  Cliff was only about ten minutes late, which was about five minutes early for him.

  “So?” he asked, when I opened the door.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You and Toni? So?”

  “She’s just here to play bridge.”

  “If you say so, Romeo.”

  He walked ahead of me into the living room and sat down at the card table across from Toni, in my seat. “I’m Cliff. You must be Toni. I hear you’re quite the card shark.”

  Toni smiled shyly. “Not really,” she said quietly.

  “That’s what she says,” Cliff said, “but I saw that twinkle in her eye.”

  Toni’s eye might not have been twinkling before, but it was then.

  Leslie looked at me, waiting for me to say something. She knew I wanted to be partners with Toni, but it seemed silly for me to make a big deal out of it. Cliff was already sitting down. Besides, I realized, it probably made more sense this way, since if Toni and I were partners, Cliff would be Leslie’s partner.

  “We’ll have to watch out for these two,” Cliff said to Toni. “They have that brother-sister telepathy thing going.”

  Toni gave us a brief lesson on bidding. She said that bidding is a conversation between you and your partner. The only way you can talk to each other is by the bids you make. No other talking is allowed.

  “Can you wink?” asked Cliff.

  “That would be unauthorized information,” said Toni.

  He winked at her.

  Toni’s cheeks turned pink. “After you sort your hand into suits,” she continued, “you count your points. An ace is worth four points. A king, three. A queen is worth two, and a jack, one.”