The Word is 'Vintage'

“Stop leaving me behind.” 

“Well, you’re going too slow. Keep up if you don’t want to get left behind.” 

“You just made me die!” 

“No I didn’t, you died because you’re not good.”

In the kitchen I hear everything. Another afternoon of endless bickering and yelling over video games. “Time’s up in ten minutes,” I yell up to them, knowing it’ll land on deaf ears. I wait for a response that doesn’t come. “You hear me?” I yell, this time with a bite in my tone. 

“But Mom, Jack never lets me be first player,” Grace yells down to me on the verge of tears. 

I close a half-unloaded dishwasher, yank the towel off my shoulder, and trudge irritably upstairs. “Jack,” I sigh in annoyance when I reach the landing, “are you sharing with your sister?” 

“No, he isn’t,” she interjects. 

He shoots her a nasty look. “Is your name Jack?” he snaps. She glares at him but says nothing. 

“Grace I was talking to Jack, please don’t answer for him,” I cross my arms not loving his demeanor but agreeing with him nonetheless.

“Why can’t the two of you get along when you play video games? Why does it always have to sound like a war is going on up here?” 

“Because Jack leaves me behind and makes me die.”

“How is he leaving you behind? Don’t you have to take turns?” 

“No. We both play at the same time while the screen side-scrolls. That way we don’t have to wait for the other player to finish their turn. Can you imagine how boring that would be? Sitting there and just having to watch someone else play?” 

“The humanity,” I gasp sarcastically, throwing my hand across my chest. “So, let me get this straight,” I continue when my banter doesn’t land, “you both are playing on the same screen at the same time? It’s not even a split screen?” I question, not quite understanding the gameplay.

“Yeah,” he says plainly, looking at me like I might as well have the word ‘idiot’ stamped across my forehead. 

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do. You both are done playing for now. Please go to your own rooms and take some time apart. I don’t care what you’re doing in your rooms but stay there until I say so. Consider cleaning them if you’re bored.” 

“But Mom,” Jack starts. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” I say matter-of-factly as I watch them both mope to their rooms, ignoring their defeated grunts before heading back downstairs feeling equally defeated.

I walk through the kitchen and glance at the growing number of dishes in the sink that always seem to manifest out of thin air, but instead of taking up where I left off, I slump on the couch and throw my feet up on the glass coffee table that’s laden with fingerprints. I rest my head on the cushion behind me and exhale heavily. Stella looks up at me from her bed, her deep brown intuitive eyes sensing my deflation.

My gaze lands on the storage closet under the stairs, the contents inside strategically piled so as not to topple over when the door is opened. I hate that closet. Still, I decide to brave it, hoping my idea will be received without too much contention. I slowly open the door, bracing myself by sticking my arm out like a football player to prevent anything from falling on me. I roll my eyes and let out another sigh of irritation that catches Stella’s attention once more. Of course the box I want is in the very back. 

I begin taking out some of the boxes to make a path. Some of them are only half taped shut and bend awkwardly when I pick them up causing me to stumble more than once. Stella has become intrigued and begins sniffing each box with intent, as if searching for something specific. 

“Move Stella,” I say sharper than I mean to as I drop a large storage bin down that I have no business lifting on my own. She turns away startled by the loud thud and lies back down in her bed, resting her head on her paws in annoyance. 

“Mom, can we get out,” Grace yells down at me. 

“No. I’ll tell you when you can come out,” I shout from inside the closet, not knowing if she heard me or not. 

Finally, I reach the box labeled ‘video games’ and carefully maneuver around everything I’ve already taken out. I carefully make my way upstairs, adjusting my grip twice so as not to drop the box on my bare feet. 

“Okay, you both can come out now,” I say breathlessly, dropping the box in front of the TV. 

“Video games?” Jack mutters questionably, shooting me a look of skepticism with one eyebrow raised. I got such a kick out of that when he first learned how to raise just the one. Now, I’m just annoyed that he uses it against me when he doesn’t trust me. 

“Yup,” I say without further explanation as I start untangling a medley of cords belonging to multiple gaming systems. I pull out a Sega Genesis, an original PS1, a Super Nintendo, an N64, a Nintendo Game Cube, and a Nintendo Wii. I look up at them and smile genuinely. “These were mine and your dad’s gaming systems as kids. All of them are mine except the Sega and the PlayStation. I grew up in a Nintendo heavy household,” I laugh, mostly to myself, and continue working on the knotted wires, now with a little more determination. 

Jack picks up a controller that looks significantly different than the rest. It’s larger with 3 large grips. “And what in the world is this thing?”

“That’s an N64 controller. I’m honestly not sure what Nintendo was thinking with that one, but it was actually pretty efficient.”

“It looks like an upside-down pitchfork,” he says, tossing it back in the box and examining the contents inside. “These are so old.”

“Vintage,” I correct. 

Grace leans over and peers into the box. “Where are all the games?”

“They’re in the bottom somewhere underneath more wires.” She reaches in and starts pulling out games of all formats, not quite knowing what to make of them. 

“They all look different,” Jack finally says, picking up Donkey Kong belonging to the N64 and Gran Turismo from the PS1. “Mario?” He picks up Super Mario Brothers for the Super Nintendo. 

“And Yoshi,” Grace squeals with excitement, snatching the game from his grip. “And Mario is riding on him. Do you get to ride on him in the game?” she asks with anticipation.

I nod and she beams as she continues to look at it curiously, as if discovering an ancient fossil, which it might as well be.

“Excuse me, I was looking at that. Mom, Grace just grabbed that out of my hand when I was looking at it,” Jack whines. 

I smile but say nothing, satisfied that they’ve taken enough interest to argue about what can only be described as antiques. 

“That was my favorite game as a kid. I spent hours playing it when I was around your guys’ ages.” 

“Is that when you lived in Arizona?” Grace has such a good memory for a seven-year-old. 

“Yeah. Uncle Dylan and Uncle Zach weren't even born yet, and grandma and grandpa were still so young. They used to play it after I went to bed. Sometimes I’d wake up and hear them whispering and laughing until the middle of the night.” I always secretly loved being an only child for so long because my parents were practically kids themselves.

“Can you even hook these up to our TV? I’ve seen those really old ones, the ones with the giant backs. There’s no way these cords will work.”  

I raise my eyebrows and look up at him. “Before you were born, dad and I used to hook up these old systems and play all night long, but in order for us to get them to work we had to buy adapters. That was when TVs first started using HDMI inputs. Fortunately, HDMI cables are all that’s really used anymore so these adapters should still be good.” 

I finally manage to get everything untangled and place all the cords with their respective systems. I stand up and put my hands on my hips, “So, do you guys want to try one out?” 

“I do,” Grace pipes up enthusiastically. “I want to play this one.” She holds up Super Mario Brothers and gives it to me urgently, as if afraid I’ll suddenly change my mind.

My lips turn up slightly at my small win. I manage to get the system set up with the adapters, making sure I’m on the right HDMI input and switch it on. I wait but the screen stays black. I slump back on my heels waiting for a snide remark, but one doesn’t come. I pop the game out with the center ejection button and in one fluid motion blow hard in the bottom of the game. 

Jack chuckles under his breath. “What the heck are you doing?” 

“Sometimes the dust builds up and messes with the game cartridge, so you just have to blow on it because they can be a little temperamental.” I pop it back in hoping this time it’ll work, not wanting to give them any more ammunition to point out how old I am. “In my experience, blowing on the game works about 50% of the time.” I switch it back on and hear the familiar coin chime. “See,” I say smugly with a wide grin.

He laughs but ignores my comment. “Why isn’t the picture clear?” 

“That’s as clear as you’re going to get it. We didn’t have high-def or 4K back then. This was the quality we had. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Jesus,” he says under his breath.

“Watch your mouth,” I snap, shooting him a look of disapproval that softens his expression. 

“Can I go first,” Grace asks, ignoring the exchange, and I’m grateful for her timing. 

“You don’t even know how to play. Let me just show you some of the basics. Beware though, this is a game where you take turns. That means you must watch the other person play until it’s your turn,” I say playfully, winking at them both. 

I start a fresh game before starting in on another anecdote. “I got so good at this game that I learned every secret. I can start a brand-new game and defeat Bowser in under ten minutes,” I say proudly. “It was actually one of the things that won your dad over. On our second date I told him how good I was but he didn’t believe me, so he came to my apartment and I showed him. To this day he says that was when he knew he was going to marry me.” I laugh, reminiscing in my head and ignoring the eye rolls I see out of the corner of mine. 

After a heated game of rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to play as Mario, a couple frustrated outbursts about the ‘game over’ stipulations, and learning to exercise patience during the other player’s turn, they begin to settle in and figure it out, so I leave them to it. I lift the video game time limit for the evening and let them play after dinner and before bed, happy to hear them working together instead of arguing.

***

“What are you two playing?”

“Dad!” Grace runs to him and gives him a hug. He lifts her up like he does every evening after work and spins her around.” 

“Hey bud,” he says in a mildly offended tone when Jack doesn’t run to hug him.

“Hey dad,” Jack says without turning around.

“You better pause that game right now and get over here and give me a hug,” he scolds, only half serious. 

Jack turns around and smiles. “Sorry dad. Me and Grace just started playing this game that mom showed us.”

He looks at the TV and then at me, giving me a playful smile. “That’s your mom’s favorite. You know, I knew I was going to marry her,” he begins. 

“We heard,” Jack laughs, cutting him off. 

“Okay you two, it’s time for bed. I’ve let you play long enough.

“Ten more minutes mom,” Jack begs. “It’s Friday.” 

“Ten? What happened to five?” 

“Okay, five?” he barters. 

“Fine. Five minutes and no more,” I agree, pretending I mean business but secretly reveling in my tiny victory. “But then I’m serious. It’s already past your Friday night bedtimes.”

***

Stella is restless that night and I wake up to her sitting by our bedroom door, wanting to go out. I halfway sit up, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Under the door I see a faint blue light. I slowly get up and walk hesitantly toward the door opening it quietly. 

“No, you have to go in that green tube,” Jack whispers. “Just wait for that piranha plant thing to go back down.”

“Won’t it bite me?”

“I don’t think so. I think if you’re standing on the tube they don’t come up.”

Their backs are to me as they huddle closer to each other than usual, their bean bag chairs touching. They don’t hear the door open, and I don’t say anything. Instead I hold my foot behind me keeping Stella at bay so she doesn’t run out, and slowly shut the door. 

Stella lays back down next to the bed with a sigh, annoyed at me for the second time that day. 

I gently lean over and rub her head. “Leave them be Stella.”