I say, “Grandma, you landed on Chance. You’re supposed to pick a card.”
She picks a card but doesn’t read it. “So if you like plate food, Renee, why are you going to a sandwich place?”
Renee says, “Because sandwiches are easier to eat than plate food. I always spill on the first date.”
Kate says, “I thought you said it wasn’t a date.”
“It isn’t a date,” Renee says. “But I still don’t want to spill.”
“You can spill with a sandwich,” Grandma says. “Especially the big ones they make at the Submarine Station. You take a bite and it comes smushing out the other end.”
I take the card from my grandmother, read it, and pay the fine with her money. “Grandma, you’ve got to roll again. You got doubles.”
Grandma looks up. “I rolled doubles?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the boss, Christy.” She rolls the dice absently. She gets doubles again.
“You want to buy State, Grandma?” I ask.
“Certainly I want to buy State! What do you think?” Grandma hands me two hundred dollars. “Give me change, honey.”
Kate says, “You don’t wrap your sandwiches in a napkin, Ida? I always wrap up my sandwiches. When I eat sandwiches. Mostly I like plate food.”
“Except hamburgers,” I mutter.
“Exactly,” Kate agrees.
I give Grandma change. “You rolled doubles again.”
“Christy, hold on,” Grandma says. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Just trying to move the game along,” I say with a strained smile.
“Then what?” Renee says. “We finish and I have to wait three hours for my hair appointment. Ida, roll the dice. You’re making Christy antsy.”
Grandma gets a ten and lands on Free Parking. “Where’s my money? Christy, honey, you forgot to put out the money for Free Parking.”
“That’s not in the rules,” I say.
No one says anything, but I sense hostility. “You guys play with one hundred or five hundred?” I say, taking both bills from the bank.
Grandma smiles. “Now you’re catching on. Monopoly isn’t life, Christy. In life, there’s no such thing as Free Parking.”
Kate says, “ To me, Free Parking symbolizes stagnation. You don’t go anywhere, you don’t do anything. You just sit there.”
“Or it could be the elusive respite we’re all looking for,” Mom says. “The opportunity to meditate without interference.”
“ To me, Free Parking is family,” Grandma says.
“The whole game is a metaphor for family,” Kate says.
“It is?” I ask.
Grandma pats my hand. “You’ll understand when you have your own children.”
I nod as if I understand her.
“In the meantime, I’ll take five hundred bucks.” Grandma snatches the bill from my hand.
Renee says, “You know, Allison, if Christy hurries up and has a baby, you can have five generations of Hathaway women.”
“I’m only twelve,” I say.
“Say you have a baby at twenty-two,” Kate says. “Not so impossible.”
“Not at all,” Grandma agrees.
“That means Mom has to make it to ninety-seven,” Renee says.
“Mom has longevity in the family,” Kate says.
“It would be better to have the baby at twenty,” Renee states.
Grandma says, “Mom, didn’t your mother live to ninety-two?”
Great-granny grunts twice.
“Ninety-three, excuse me,” Grandma says.
Renee says, “So split the difference and have a baby at twenty-one, Christy.”
“Thanks for planning my life,” I say.
“Oh, Christy.” My grandma waves me away. “Can’t you take a joke?”
I don’t say anything, because I know she’s not joking. “Whose turn is it?” I say angrily.
“Mom, is it your turn?” Renee says.
“Great-granny had her turn,” I say. “She bought Oriental, remember?”
“I’ll take a turn,” Renee says. “Unless you want to go ahead of me, Kate?”
I blurt out, “How do you guys ever finish anything? You move so slowly and talk so much, it’ll be Easter by the time we’re done.”
Five pairs of eyes stare at me. Even Granny is looking at me. I suddenly feel embarrassed by my outburst. No one knows what to say, and I mutter an apology.
Renee pats my arm. “Aw, youth.”
“It’s hard being with a bunch of old ladies,” Kate says.
“No, really, it’s not,” I say. “I’m just impatient.” I pick up the dice and give them to Renee. “Your turn.”
At first everyone is real quiet, and I feel very bad. But after a few minutes, the chatter starts. I bite my lip and endure it. The rest of the visit moves slowly. I try to understand them, I try to be patient, I even try to contemplate the true meaning of Free Parking. But I fidget and squirm and probably make everyone feel uncomfortable. Two hours later, the game is still going. Renee checks her watch and says it’s time for her hairdresser’s appointment. Without ceremony, we clean up the board, get up, and kiss Great-granny goodbye. They will meet again for the game next week. I’m sure they’ll be happy that I’ll be in school.
After Mom has dropped off her kin, I turn to her. “How do you stand it week after week?”
“Stand what?”
“The game, Mom. They move so slow. It’s so boring!”
“It depends on what you want out of the game, Christy. For you, the outcome is important-who wins, who loses. For your grandma and her sisters, it’s the process. The game is just an excuse for them to get together and chat.”
“So why don’t they just get together and chat?”
“Because then Great-granny wouldn’t be included.”
“She’s hardly included now. They move her pieces, they talk around her. All she does is make an occasional grunt.”
Mom smiles at me and kisses my cheek. “You’ll understand when you get older.”
“Yeah, just like I’ll understand the philosophy of Free Parking.”
My mom pauses for a moment. “Some people race through life, Christy. Some people stroll through it. Whatever suits you, suits me. Just remember, whether you walk or run, it doesn’t matter much. The finish line is still death.”
I frowned. “What a morbid thought.”
“Not if you have beautiful children like I do.”
I stare at her. “That isn’t a hint, is it?”
“A hint?”
“You guys kept saying that I should have a baby at twenty-one. They didn’t really mean that, did they?”
“Of course not,” she says. “They were just doing some idle talk.”
“A lot of idle talk.”
My mom kisses me. “Have a little patience, Christy.”
“You sound like Grandma.”
“I am her daughter. Maybe one day you’ll sound like me.”
A scary thought. I say nothing.
“After all, we are four generations of Hathaway women.” She smiles. “And maybe one day, when you’re willing… and the Higher Spirit is willing… it will be five generations.”
“But not at twenty-one,” I say.
“I agree,” Mom says. “No sense rushing things. Besides, it could all be for naught. You just might have a boy.”
T he Luck Of The Draw
with Rachel Kellerman and Ilana Kellerman
“The Luck of the Draw” is a sweet story that was commissioned for the anthology Mothers and Daughters, edited by Jill Morgan. It was cowritten with my daughters, Rachel and Ilana. I wanted this effort to be a true collaboration, not my interpretation of their ideas. To achieve that goal, I had the girls write from their point of view. Rachel and Ilana, now young women, were fifteen and eleven when we wrote this story, and as I reread their words, I find them a touching window into bygone days. What a cherished way to capture my daughters’ points of view as children.