Koby anticipated the pass, intercepted it and played the ball up the wing from halfway. Riley beat a defender and drove the ball past the keeper. Sideline supporters whooped and applauded. Riley would be remembered for scoring the winning goal and some who followed the game closely would remember Koby as the playmaker: the coach, his parents, his grandfather, his girlfriend; his loyal supporters, on the sideline among the many friends and family of the team: parents, partners, mostly young adults like the players themselves, a few toddlers and curiously, a young man in a dress, certainly a curiosity in Koby’s grandfather’s view. The old man sat in his parka propped up on the sideline on a monopod with a fold out leather seat, which folded up again to serve as a walking stick when he moved on.
“Good game. Well played,” they all agreed.
“Good on ya boy,” his grandfather said as he stood up and pulled the monopod spike out of the turf.
Koby’s mother spoke to him out of earshot of her father. “Can you go pay Granddad a visit this weekend? I think he’s feeling a bit lonely since Grandma passed away.”
“I don’t know; he seems pretty content with his own company, but yeah, I’ll drop in on him,” Koby agreed.
“He always enjoys getting a visit from you anyway. You could give him a game of chess.”
“Yeah, he always gives me a good game. We’re pretty even. He’s still sharp mentally but he’s quite a curmudgeon these days.”
“He’s always been a bit opinionated and blunt.”
When Koby arrived at his grandfather’s unit he kicked off his shoes and knocked on the door and entered without waiting so the old man wouldn’t have to come to the door. “It’s me, Koby,” he announced.
The old man was sitting in the warmth of the room with his computer on his lap.
“How are you Granddad?”
“Well my back’s pretty buggered,” he said. “Other than that I’m fine. Everything’s still working; at least I think it’s all working. The old entertainment centre has fallen into disuse since you’re grandma passed away.”
Koby had never thought of his grandparents having sex, not in their old age, not after having their own children. It was weird enough thinking of his parents doing it.
“You played a good game today,” said Granddad. “Good game to watch.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the story with the boy wearing a dress?”
“Oh, Toni. He’s gay.”
“Looked a bit dour if you ask me,” Granddad said.
“You know what I mean, Koby said. “He’s…”
“Yeah, I know he’s a homo.”
“He’s actually transgender,” Koby said, “or neutrois.”
“Neutrois? What the hell is a neutrois?”
“No gender.”
“You can’t be no gender,” Granddad insisted. “You’re either male or female. It’s coded into every cell of your body. You can’t argue with nature. Some people are just confused about their gender.”
“Oh, Granddad. You’re such an old homophobe.”
“I’m not homophobic. A phobia is a fear. I’m not afraid of homos. I just don’t like them. Actually I feel sorry for them.”
“You’re just out of touch.”
“I keep up to date with what’s going on. The media’s full of LGBT nonsense. It’s LGBTTQIA++ now. How much longer is the string of letters going to get to include every aberration?”
“Aberration?” Koby said.
“Well, perversion, then,” Granddad said.
Koby rolled his eyes.
“I see on the news male transsexuals will be allowed to compete in sports as women,” Granddad continued. “It’s just men playing against women. That’s not very fair. It’s right there on msn news,” he said, prodding the screen of his laptop. “Somewhere in amongst all the bloody pop up ads. You click the close button on the ads and then you have to click on why you want to close it – because it was covering the text. You get We’ll try not to show you this ad again. The ad disappears but it leaves a blank block still obscuring the text. Bloody rude.”
“Yeah I know it’s really annoying,” Koby agreed. “Do you want a game of chess?”
“Yeah. It’ll make a change from playing against the computer.”
Granddad put his laptop aside on top of a stack of books and sat upright with his hands on the armrests of his chair in a Lincoln memorial pose.
“I’ll make us a cup of tea first, eh,” Koby offered.
Playing chess would hopefully divert the old man from contentious discussions. The board was on a small side table with the carved wooden pieces always set up. Koby cleared the books from the seat of the other armchair and pulled it up to face his grandfather. He hung his jacket on the back of the chair and set the board on its table between them. He held out a pawn in each closed fist and his grandfather pointed to his left hand, which he opened to reveal a black pawn. Granddad used to trick him by holding a black pawn in each hand.
Koby opened with a Queen’s Gambit, or a Queen’s Bandit, as he used to call it, and the old man played Gambit Declined. They competed for dominance of the middle of the board with middle rank pieces and they both castled early. Koby had learned a lot about chess from his grandfather. He well remembered the day he finally beat him. It was a sweet victory because he knew the old man would never actually let him win. He used to let him take moves back but never again after that win. Koby learned to be more cautious about his moves and anticipate consequences. He even began to see some of the same principles operating in real life. His gaze drifted to the family photos on the bookcase while he waited for the old man to make a move: Koby’s grandparents on their wedding day, uncles, aunts, cousins and a photo of himself as a toddler sitting on his mother’s lap.
“How’s that girlfriend of yours?” Granddad asked.
“Charlotte, um, she’s fine.”
“You going to marry her?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s early days yet.”
“Playing the field, eh.”
“Not really. We both want to get through uni before even thinking about marriage.”
“Quite right.”
You sleeping with her?
“Uh, yes.”
“You should save that till you’re married too.”
“Did you save yourself for marriage?” Koby asked.
“No, I had no faith and no morals in those days. I’d do it differently if I had my time over.”
“Easy to say now,” said Koby.
“Maybe so but that’s what I believe now.”
“When did you change your beliefs?”
“When I became a Christian at the age of thirty-six.”
“Did you really have no morals before that?”
“Well, I wasn’t completely immoral or amoral. I just had nothing to base my morals on. If you’re not accountable to God it’s easier to be selfish.”
Koby took two pawns, a bishop and a knight, for the loss of the same, piece for piece, and moved his rooks into the cleared files. He brought his queen up, covered by a rook, to attack Granddad’s weaker king side. The old man saw it coming and got his defence in place. Koby had him cornered but he escaped with a queen exchange. Koby’s gaze was drawn again to the toddler in the photo.
Election’s coming up this year,” said Granddad. “You get a vote this time. Who you going to vote for?”
“Not sure. Maybe Labour,” Koby said.
“I used to give them my vote. Not anymore. I won’t vote for those baby killers.”
“Eh?”
“Abortion.”
“You think abortion is baby killing?”
“Of course it is,” Granddad asserted. “They’re aborting foetuses right up to full term. Babies that would survive if they weren’t killed. And if they survive the abortion they’ll still kill them. That’s not abortion. That’s infanticide.”
“I agree they’ve gone too far with that but there are valid reasons for abortion in some cases,” Koby said.
“Well, inconvenience isn’t a valid reason and neither is gender.”
“How does gender come into it?”
“You know, the mother says, “Oh it’s another boy. I want a girl this time. Let’s kill it and try again.””
“They wouldn’t approve that.”
“I’m not so sure,” Granddad said. “Abortion is a government funded industry, run by family planning clinics. Family planning. What a sad joke! It’s all PC language and euphemisms. They don’t even say it’s an abortion. It’s a termination. Who kills the baby? The terminator,” he said, mimicking Schwarzenegger. “Hasta la vista, baby.”
“What really happens,” Granddad went on, “the unpleasant reality is the abortionist goes in with forceps and grabs whatever parts of the foetus. He pulls out an arm, a leg, the head, half a torso and assembles all the dismembered bits to be sure he’s got all of it. At least they’re not doing the barbaric partial delivery that they do in America for full term abortions. They turn the baby for a breach delivery and deliver all but the head but expose enough of the head to stab a pair of scissors into the base of the skull and force an opening to insert a catheter to suck the brains out and collapse the skull.”
Koby winced and tried to maintain his concentration on the game. Maybe the old man was just trying to put him off. Chess pieces continued to fall without a checkmate until finally there was insufficient material to achieve a checkmate, as they say.
“I guess we’re too good for each other,” said Granddad.
Koby set the pieces back on the board and said, “Granddad, here’s an update on ‘How’s your girlfriend?’ She’s pregnant.”
“Oh, I suppose I should congratulate you. I’m sorry about going on about abortions.”
“It’s okay. It confirms my feelings. I don’t want the baby aborted.”
“Of course you don’t. What does Charlotte want?”
“She wants to go for a termination. She hasn’t told her parents. She doesn’t have to tell anyone. We haven’t told anyone. But now I’ve told you. I know you can keep a confidence. But it’s going to come out eventually (no pun intended) if I have my way. I don’t want her to get an abortion. I agree with you: A baby conceived has a right to be born.”
“You should marry her. I got married at your age. But if she doesn’t want to get married and doesn’t want to keep the baby she can put it up for adoption. There’s plenty of couples wanting babies who can’t have their own.”
“Yeah, including same sex couples,” Koby said.
“No need to go there,” Granddad said. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”