3.17 Queen of Hearts

Cathy, age 11, 6th grade

1960 • La Habra ~ My sisters drank pot after pot of Folgers and smoked pack after pack of filters, complaining the whole time how crappy their hands were, bad-mouthing Mother, and bitching about their husbands. I was clear I didn’t like coffee or cigarettes, clear I was not going to grow up and be like Mom, and real clear I was not going to marry some s.o.b. like they had.

Playing Hearts, I carefully organized my cards by suit and value, alternating the reds and blacks, trying not to drop any face up on the table, when it dawned on me what I had. I held the Queen of Spades, all the high hearts, and enough lower ones to shoot the moon. Yabba dabba doo!
“Yessss!” I hid my crooked grin behind my fanned cards, so excited I could barely contain myself, my cowlicks and peepers popping with glee.
“Whooeee!” I slapped my free hand on the table.
“Yaahooo!” my butt cheeks danced on the chair.
“Oh yeahhh!” 
Swearing, the three of them threw in their cards and didn’t let me play my hand.
“I hate you!” I whined.
“Oh shut up and shuffle,” they replied.

Mom, age 43

There’s nothing like a common enemy to unite sisters, and we had Mom. When she pulled up in her black-and-white Buick Special with the four chrome holes on the sides, we readied ourselves. Mother’s redeeming value was that she was a card player. However, she wasn’t as sharp as she once was, her thinking ability leached by alcohol, pills, and recent shock treatments. My sisters took full advantage and cheated when they played with her, slightly fanning their cards to each other and passing under the table whatever they needed to fill out their hand. Snarky about Mom, they referred to her as “your” mother, as if she wasn’t theirs, just mine, though I didn’t want to claim her either. Carleen and Betty didn’t like being stuck with her as a partner either, but since “either” had to go to school during the day, they tolerated her as my fill-in. I also knew not to align myself with Mom; defending her was a bad idea. Claudia straddled the fence as far as Mom was concerned; she didn’t defend her, but she wouldn’t join in trashing her either. Betty’s stand: if you weren’t with her you were against her, and fence-straddling eventually put Claudia in the enemy camp.

I learned a lot more from playing cards than just shuffling, cutting, and dealing. Like how to win and how to lose. I realized that pouting didn’t improve my hand one whit. I got the hang of the rules, how to keep score, and how to count. I learned how to bluff. I mastered keeping my cards close to my chest, when to hold ’em, and when to fold ’em. I learned to lead with my strong suits, and to play my bad cards as well as I could. I got cheating wasn’t fair, or all that much fun. I learned to play the cards dealt me even when they were rotten, and that it was only a game and not to take it too seriously. I learned about the Ace of Hearts and the Queen of Spades, and that hearts trump everything and hope trumps anything. And I learned that there was always a new hand soon to be dealt, and possibly, a better one.

to be continued…

© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
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