Page 138 of The Ruler
I drew in a deep sigh. “Okay, I’ll try again, but I don’t think I can empty my head of thoughts – it’s too crowded in there.” I placed a finger on my temple.
“It takes practice, but if you get distracted you just center yourself almost as if you’re sitting on a bench watching people pass. You don’t have to get up and follow them. Think of the thoughts as people and let them pass.”
“Okay.” I hesitated.
“What is it?”
“It’s just that there are a lot of unpleasant memories from my past and I’m wondering if the muddy water isn’t better than seeing that shit clearly again.”
“You think about your past?”
“Yeah.” Maybe it was the aftermath of our wedding night or the bond I felt with her for becoming my wife, but I opened up. “I bring back the worst memories when I’m under pressure. They help me stay cold and ruthless.”
Pearl’s eyes expanded and her chest rose in a deep intake of air. “Be careful about what memories you allow to occupy your thoughts. Did you know that your brain works like a database? It’s constantly trying to figure out what interests you and show you more of that. If you focus on the negative it will show you more negatives, and the more you focus on a specific memory the more your brain will play it for you. In time, it’ll archive memories you don’t think about. They’ll be forgotten as if they never happened.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
She crossed her legs. “Try to focus on the good memories and push the negatives to the background.”
I scrunched up my face. Christ, she made it sound so easy, but she probably had no idea what it was like to live with memories like mine.
“Come on, I’ll meditate with you,” Pearl said, placing her hands in her lap and closing her eyes.
I started the meditation guide again and this time I let my thoughts come and go, remembering her words that it was okay to just let the thoughts pass without taking any action. The music was relaxing and when a small bell rang after twenty minutes I felt my heart rate beat slow and steady, as if I had no cares in the world.
Opening my eyes, I watched my wife sitting across from me like a statue crafted to honor female perfection.
She looked completely at peace.
My first movement made her open an eye. “How was it?” she asked.
“Good,” I said and leaned forward to kiss her. “I’m very relaxed now.”
“That’s wonderful. We’ll do it again tonight.”
I didn’t object because she had joined my world by moving here, and I wanted to share some of hers by learning her traditions. Plus, I actually did feel better.
“I’m just going to take a quick shower before I’m meeting with my mother,” she said when I pulled her up from the floor. “We’re going to the school to help prepare for the girls’ arrival tomorrow; will you come?”
“Finn will take you, but I’ll follow in a few hours. I just have some work I need to look at.”
Two hours later I sat in my office. The house was quiet and my feelings from the peaceful meditation came back to me. My eyes fell to the chessboard, and Pearl’s question from earlier about why I loved chess so much made me think.
A memory pressed on my inner walls but it had a different feel to it, as if it didn’t really belong. I closed my eyes and let the memory take me back twenty-four years.
As I sat crouched over a chess game, my head rested in my hands and my mind was analyzing my options.
“Not bad for a ten-year-old,” my father said when I finally made my move. “I didn’t think you’d see that opening. I’m impressed.” He moved his knight just like I’d hoped he would, and I was just about to make my move when my concentration was broken by my father’s friend Mr. Zobel, who came in to remind my father of an appointment. Disappointment filled me that we couldn’t finish our game.
“Give me a minute, I’m getting my ass whipped by my son,” my father said. “Stay and watch if you want.”
Surprise and immense pride rippled through me from his words and because he prioritized finishing our game.
And then a few minutes later, I said the words that would later become addictive in my life. “Checkmate.”
My father’s deep rumbling laughter filled my heart and I grinned widely when he used his large palm to ruffle up my hair. “Good job, my boy, that’s what I like to see – you’ve got brains.” And then he called Magni over, pointing to the chessboard. “Magni, did you see that? Your brother might be a fucking genius.”
I leaned back in my seat, no longer a ten-year-old boy, but a grown man blinking while repeating that last sentence again and again.A fucking genius.My father had called me a genius.
