The Game of Life

‘I have cancer. They’ve given me six months,” Rock Cameron admitted to his dearest friends around the poker table, covered in chips, cards and coinage. He scratched his head and stared at his cards. A two and three of clubs, a ten of spades and an ace - all nothing worth betting on. He seemed to recall the ace of spades symbolized death. He frowned and considered folding.

He looked up and watched their faces contort into strange expressions of grief, anger, and pity. The same thing he was learning to accept from those around him. At first, he had been in shock, anger had followed along with an absurd hope that maybe it would go away on its own, but now he had come to terms with it and was drifting along in a quiet acceptance.

“Isn’t it always the case?” grumbled Abel Thorne while downing a scotch on the rocks. “Life sucks and then you die.” He struggled with life and his money troubles frequently got him down. “I ain’t got nothing. I’m folding.”

“How are you coping with that?” asked Jonathon Crop, sipping from his soda. He was always the most caring, though he frequently lost sight of the darker side of life by putting his positive spin on everything. He held his hand close to chest. The tell that he had something good hidden.

“We need to have a celebration,” said Reginald Path, a cigar in his mouth, “We can take the next six months and do everything on your bucket list. It will be great.” Reginald lived for the moment. Determined to never let anyone control him and frequently the life of the party. His eyes shifted sideways, trying to peak a look at Jonathon’s cards to see if he could bring the man down.

“I appreciate the thought, but I haven’t quite figure it all out yet,” said Rock, “I know what my fate is, but I’m not quite sure how to spend the time I have left.”

“Have you thought about life after?” asked Jonathon.

“Not since I was a young man. I attended church, but I never made that deeper connection that you and so many others seemed to have. I like the idea of a life after.”

“There’s too many problems in the world to realistically believe the life after is any better,” grumbled Abel.

“Ha, the afterlife? I agree with Abel, you Christian folks are all alike. Your head is in the clouds and it means you lose sight of the here and now,” said Reginald, “You need to live for the now, Rock, buddy. You’re lucky. You know your fate, and now you need to decide what to do with the time you have left.”

“Here and now?” asked Abel, “If I had cancer, I would welcome my fate. I could go to sleep and escape life.” He drank his drink down and poured another, relaxing back in his chair to watch those around him. “I feel like I never have a good hand,” he complained.

“You need to get some help,” said Jonathon, eying Abel with pity.

“I don’t see how this is helping. You’re grimmer than grim and I was hoping you all might provide some support,” muttered Rock. “Reginald? You going to bet or fold like Abel?”

Reginald studied Jonathon, “I think I’m going to bet.” He nodded towards Jonathon, “I doubt he has anything.”

“My wife said, Fate is resourceful. Maybe you’ll die a different way. For all you know you could walk out of here and the world will have ended or you could have a heart attack,” suggested Abel.

“Ever the optimist,” said Jonathon and they all laughed. “We have a saying that says the same thing. The heart of a man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Reginald groaned, “Don’t start.”

“But its true,” argued Jonathon. “Even biblical truths are often mirrored in the world around us.”

“So are buddist and hindu truths,” argued Reginald. “A truth is a truth.”

“I guess fate will be the true decider of truth then,” said Jonathon.

Rock had an idea for a joke to lighten the mood. The conversation was taking a serious turn and put him off taking either side. It was the reason he had decided to become an agnostic. He was determined to make light of the situation. He grinned, “My wife is Fate and she is very resourceful.” They all laughed, even Abel who was now onto his third glass and swaying in his chair.

“As I was saying,” said Jonathon, still trying to catch his breath from laughing, “I know my fate, regardless of death and I feel like it gives me the strength to face the troubles in life. It gives me hope that I will simply move on to a better place and see my savior.”

“You mean heaven and all that?” asked Rock.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I think your idea of what you expect your fate to be causes you to lost sight on your focus on life,” argued Reginald. “Rock told you his fate and your first thought was on the next life instead of this one.” He played his hand. Four eights, one in each suit. “Ha, got you!”

“Is that really so bad?” argued Jonathon. He grinned, his eyes circling the table. “Royal Flush.”

Abel laughed, “Old John's always winning the game of life, you idiot.”

 Reginald groaned. “Play again?” he asked. “I’m sure I can beat you this time.”

“Are you sure you want to?” asked Jonathon. “It’s getting late.”

“Yes,” Reginald said and began dealing the cards out again. “You know, I have a heart condition,” he told them, “I could be gone any day and so I am living life to the fullest.”

“Y’all are full of it,” said Abel, pointing his glass at them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be dealt back in?” asked Rock, “There’s always the possibility you could win.”

“Nah, I gave up long ago,” Abel replied.

Rock considered his friends, leaning back in his chair and drinking his own rum and coke while the next hand played out in silence. They were all so different. He admired Jonathon and his connection to the next life, but had never felt it, but he also wished to live in the moment like Reginald, and Reginald really new how to live. He frowned at Abel and knew that he did not want the world’s problems to choke the last of his life away. These three men had decided on their fates and their lives were defined by them. He struggled to define his own, lost in a sea of doubts.

He excused himself and went to the bathroom. There was silence when he reentered the room. His three friends were bent over the table, still and unmoving.

Rock went to them and touched them, they were ice cold. Dead. He swallowed nervously, knowing the same fate would meet him in six months. Something caught his eyes, before he went to dial 911. The words Fate is Resourceful etched in blood across the table. They had all met their fate and whatever that would be. He began to consider which path he would take.