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The Big Felt Table in the Sky

by Jordan789 

Posted: 25 May 2007
Word Count: 373
Summary: For Challenge #61


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Diane sat at the black jack table with the early bird special group. She liked it there, because the people never took the game too seriously like at the more expensive tables. She was fifty-seven years old, but she looked seventy, with smoker’s skin and smoker’s lung and a hunched over posture perched on the edge of her chair like some vulture. As far as she could tell, the others at the table were seventy, but she didn’t like to think about it much.
A man had sat down at the table, wearing a cowboy hat pitched forward over his face, and grizzly sideburns running down almost to his chin. After a few bad hands he said to the group, “Them aces are about as popular in these parts as we will be in ten years, huh?” The small group laughed politely.
Another woman who didn’t quite seem seventy, retorted, “You speak for yourself.” The comment started a small discussion between the two, and started Diane thinking. She had been lucky so far. She had smoked a lot of cigarettes over the years, and thinking about it made her cough a couple of shallow, dry coughs. Diane tried to concentrate on the snap of the dealer’s wrists as he went around the table, and the green felt, and the sound of the lady shuffling her chips.
“Miss, it’s your turn,” the dealer said to Diane.
She apologized and made a poor call, asking for another card. The cowboy and the woman were talking now about death and this and that.
The cowboy was mid-sentence, and Diane cleared her throat. She sat herself up in her chair, and cleared it again.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you all,” she said, “But do you have any children?”
She had directed the question at everyone at the table, so no one jumped at the chance to speak up. But then the dealer, a young Latino smiled and responded.
“I’ve got one daughter,” he said, in his accent. And he smiled.
“Well I’m sure she’s lovely,” Diane said.
The dealer nodded his head and went on with his shuffling. The cowboy and the other woman stopped arguing and they all leaned back and played their game of cards.






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Comments by other Members



Account Closed at 08:50 on 25 May 2007  Report this post
This reminds of something Raymond Carver would have written - there's a wonderful feeling of displacement but of things being connected in ways which aren't obvious. I enjoyed it - very much!

The only things I would say is (a) isn't it "smokers'" and not "smoker's"???, and (b) I think sideburns go down to the chin anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a surprise?

Otherwise, lovely!

A
xxx

Cornelia at 09:16 on 25 May 2007  Report this post
I liked the atmosphere and the sense of this place having been there for some time, but I think I'll have to read it again to understand the significance of Diane's question. This Raymond Carver is worth looking out for, it seems, and may give me a clue. I've read a couple of his stories in a class I attended and I appreciate that the meaning needs to be teased out. Oh, I think I see it - yes, that kind of idle chat wouldn't be tolerated at the bridge table, either. I like it - very good mix of characters economically described but very clearly drawn.

Should it be 'blackjack' or even 'Blackjack'?

I loved :

the early bird special group.


I didn't quite get:

he said, in his accent.




Sheila



Dom Kilroe at 00:04 on 27 May 2007  Report this post
Raymond Carver.

I`m trying to exorcise his influence from my writing also. His vision is so distinctive, once you`ve read it, it`s impossible to go backwards to a state where you are not affected by it.

Prospero at 04:11 on 27 May 2007  Report this post
I tried Raymond Carver and couldn't get on with him at all. But I enjoyed this story where loose talk of death is summarily halted by a direct reference to life.

Clever.

Best

John

Cornelia at 09:06 on 27 May 2007  Report this post
Thinking about it, I haven't read many short stories, except for DH Lawrence and Chekhov, also Katherine Mansfield and Somerset Maugham, but all too expansive for flash fiction, so a bad influence.

Does Diane, in this story, have children, I wondered? I assume not- her question is a reproach and we know she doesn't like to think about people being over seventy. Ironically, her smoking is a kind of death-wish - and the gambling, I suppose. I knew someone who had to give up playing bridge when most clubs introduced no-smoking policies. I attended her funeral last year. Some people still manage to nip out for a quick draw when they are 'dummy'.

For me the different cultural aspect here adds interest. I guess this story takes place in America where the cult of youth/fear of death is more prevalent.I assume, too, that if this were set in the UK, Diane would play play bingo, not blackjack.

People I meet at bridge clubs are proud/relieved to be elderly - one reputed ninety-year-old is regarded with general admiration -and I can see why. Fortunate enough to have lived more than sixty years free from major wars, the members are financially comfortable, some even 'richly left'.

Sheila




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