Page 23 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Do you still play every month?” I asked Dad as I pulled out the chips and cards. Years ago, he had set up a professional quality poker table in the game room of our home and hosted monthly evenings with his friends.

“Not as often. Two from our original four have passed on, and it’s not the same,” he said, and suddenly, the mortality of my aging father hit me. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed as he smiled and patted it in reassurance.

“I don’t know how to play, so I’ll just watch for today,” Sona said, coming around to sit beside Tara.

“We’ll teach you,” I said.

“I can’t play either. Can you teach me?” Riya asked.

I nodded and passed out the chips.

“My mom’s family plays rummy every time they gather for festivals. When I was in India, my aunt and her husband used to fight to have me sit by them. Each claimed I was their lucky charm,” Sona said with a nostalgic look in her eye.

“In that case, here’s a seat for you, Sona,” Mom said, pulling an empty chair closer to her.

“Nice try,” Dad said, pulling the chair toward him. “Sona, you can sit here.”

She laughed her sweet laughter. “How about this? I will sit right between the two of you. That way, the luck will be equally distributed,” she said, looking at my parents. Then, turning to Tara, she said, “That’s how I used to placate my aunt and uncle too.”

She adjusted the chair between my parents and settled down, sharing a laugh as if she had known them all her life. I tried very hard to keep my eyes off her while Dad taught her the game, doling out expert tips like he used to give me.

Dad was an excellent player, and Tara took us by surprise. But my father had trained me well, and I was better.

“There you go, Dad,” I said as we wrapped up the last round. “This shows you luck can’t stand up to talent. No offense, Tara.”

Tara flipped her cards to the table with a huff.

Sona smiled at Dad. “Don’t worry, Uncle, you’ll beat him next time. You are clearly the superior player, but you were distracted trying to teach me.” That made Dad laugh, and Mom smiled lovingly at them as I gathered the cards.

“This isn’t fair,” Riya wailed. “You didn’t let me win even once,” she said to me with an angry expression.

“Hey, there are no friends in poker,” I replied with a mock glare.

Sameer patted her hand. “I’ll teach you, Riya, and then you can beat him fair and square.”

“You’re a terrible player, Sameer,” I said. “Let Tara teach her.” I grinned at him, and he scowled back.

“Don’t let it spoil your mood, sweetheart,” Tara said to Riya. “Let’s go get ice cream.” She gave Sameer a look that was both pleading and authoritative.

“The winner gets the treats,” Sameer jeered at me.

“Alright,” I rousted myself up with a sigh. “Any flavor requests?”

“I think I’d prefer to have chai instead,” Dad said.

“I’ll make some,” Mom said, but Sona put a hand on her arm and said, “I’ll make it, Aunty, if you don’t mind.”

Mom’s face bloomed. “Not at all. But I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. Aunty, Uncle, how about you?” she asked Sameer’s parents.

“We never say no to tea,” Amrit aunty said with her usual graceful demeanor.

“I’ll make coffee,” Sameer added and followed Sona.

When I returned from the ice cream shop with several quarts of different flavors, everyone was back in the living room, relaxed and laughing. As I brought the cake out, they scrambled to get their gifts. Tara and Sameer had brought a monogrammed crystal whisky decanter and glass set while Riya pulled out an exceptionally well-made card.

“Tara made this, didn’t she?” I teased, and she jumped with indignation.

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