He approached the park with a small anxiety. More than thirty years had passed since he had last been here. To him it would always be a place of menace. All memories fashioned at the level of a child's eye were unreliable in scale, but Gramercy Park was otherwise unchanged. And so perfect was the memory of his sixth birthday party, Charles Butler winced.
Edith had invited all the children in the square to that party, all the children who'd had nothing to do with him on previous visits. And he made no new friends that afternoon, but had once or twice been the cause of uproarious laughter which made him want to sink into the earth, to be anywhere but there.
While Cousin Max had loomed over the children, making objects go up in flames and birds go up in flight, six-year-old Charles had shrunk as much as possible, scrunching down in his chair, aiming for invisibility. For the magic show's grand finale, Max had given Charles his fondest wish. First, he made the boy the center of attention, and then, mercifully, Max made him disappear, something which Charles's large nose had hitherto made impossible in any company of children.
After the show was over, Charles had reappeared against his will. The children with smaller noses and more modest brains had surrounded him and demanded to know how the trick was done. But he was honor-bound not to betray Max's secrets. In slow steps, and of one mind, the children were closing the ranks of small menacing bodies while Edith and Max were packing up the magic act and trundling boxes and bags through the gates, across the street and back into the house. He was alone in the circle of faces all filled with hate, small eyes bright with anger.
The first punch to his stomach put him into shock, so startling it was to be hurt for no reason he could understand. He covered his stomach to protect it from the next blow, and he was kicked from behind. An open hand shot out to slap his face, and he thwarted it with his raised arms. The same hand came back to him again as a fist in the side.
And now he understood them.
He dropped his hands to his sides and smiled at them, stretching his mouth to its widest, its looniest. They stood back half a step, still of one mind, and that mind was confused. What was this, asked their eyes which were one pair. In their base understanding of anger and fear, this smiling was against the rules. The tentative shot of a fist hit the back of Charles's head, but there was no real force to it. Their energy was draining off for lack of anything to feed it. There were no more blows before Edith entered the children's circle, put one hand on his shoulder and disappeared him back into the house.
During subsequent stays with Edith and Max, he had remained on the sidewalk side of the bars, where he stood now, looking in.
He opened the gate with Mallory's key and found himself a bench in a nice broad patch of October sun.
The boy at the gate must be Henry Cathery. Kathleen had supplied a more detailed description than Charles needed. The small traveler's chess set would have been sufficient to identify the boy. She hadn't needed to add the part about the visitor from another solar system. Charles, fellow alien, had a painful idea of what this boy's life must be like among the earth people.
He brought out his own traveler's set in the minutes while Cathery was settling into his own patch of sun. Charles's ancient wooden board was inlaid with squares of mahogany and cedar. The chess pieces were made of ivory and jade. The carving had surely driven the craftsman blind with the incredible detailing of each miniature. At the bases of the figures were the pegs to correspond with holes in the board.
From a distance of park benches, he noticed that Cathery was now sliding his own chess pieces across a metal board on magnets. Cathery's concentration made him impervious to the discomfort of being stared at. The boy was alone in his own universe, and Charles, a universe away, was not likely to catch his eye in anything approaching a natural encounter.
There was nothing in childhood which had prepared him for any pleasant encounter with a stranger. He had missed that stage of socialization which other people found so natural. He was not at all given to spontaneous conversation. Ah, but then, they were countrymen of sorts, this fellow Martian and he. He folded his set and walked slowly across that chasm which separates strangers and their very personal territory of park benches.
When he was standing over Cathery and blocking his sun, he said, "I see you favor magnets over pegs."
Cathery nodded, never taking his eyes from the board. If Charles had spoken from a burning bush, it would not have impressed Cathery sufficiently to break his concentration. Charles unfolded his own set and held it out between the boy and the metal board. Cathery looked at it and began the slow smile of a child within grabbing distance of candy.
Well that was better.
"I've seen one like that before," said Cathery, not looking up, eyes fixed on the board and its figurines. "It's a museum piece, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Where could I get one?"
"You couldn't. There are only three of them, and two are in museums."
"You want to sell it? I don't care what it costs."
"No, I don't think so. Care for a game?"
Cathery never answered him but put his own set to one side and looked up with the apprehension of one unaccustomed to this little social dance, unfamiliar with the steps. In that moment, Charles understood him with an insider's knowledge. This brilliant young chess master had all the socialization skills of a very small child. Charles smiled and sat down, placing the peg board on the bench between them. He held up the white to Cathery. The boy nodded. Their conversation had begun, though more than twenty minutes would pass before any more words were exchanged.
A glance at the magnet set allowed him to predict Cathery's opening, a classic game from a championship match.
Yes, that was it. Three moves later, it was apparent that Cathery was extending the chess problem to the new game. Charles called up the playing field from a page in a chess book and moved accordingly. And accordingly, Cathery's every move was predictable. If he continued to play with all the original moves, Cathery might catch on. The boy probably had no eidetic memory – that was rare – but he would certainly have committed these particular moves to what memory storage he had.
While Cathery's eyes were fastened to the board, Charles ran through the possibilities of more obscure games to match the opening. It was dishonest in a way, he supposed – Mallory had her influences on him – but if he didn't provide a master game, he might not be able to hold Cathery for long in a conversation about the weather.
"I've never seen you here before," said the boy, tossing a bishop into harm's way in a mad rush for a new queen. "You just moved in?"
"No, I don't live here." Charles spared the bishop and plotted to take down the would-be queen. "My cousin used to live in that house." He nodded to the other side of the park. "I expect it's been divided up into apartments now. It was a wonderful old place. I used to play in this park when I was a child. It hasn't changed. Peaceful, isn't it?"
Cathery nodded. "I'll never leave here."
Charles believed him. Now that Cathery was grown and beyond the torture of children, he would find this place a perfect environment for a solitary chess-player. No street people, no panhandlers to interrupt his game, to break his concentration with acts of supplication or acts of insanity. Henry Cathery would thrive on simplicity. There was nothing about his person to say he went to any trouble about his clothing or his hair. The spotty beard was an obvious growth of neglect. The boy would always opt for extreme simplicity, less distraction from the game.
"Henry!"
But just now, a distraction in the form of a thin young woman was calling to Cathery from the gate. Her hair was matted and her long, dark red dress was torn. An over-large vest of faded brocade was her only cover against the chill October morning. He found it interesting that she called Cathery by his given name.