Words at Sea

Scrabble again after the previous demonstration of why confidence should be rationed at sea. The board occupied the table with its usual innocent appearance, concealing the capacity to turn an agreeable evening into an examination of everything one has forgotten. Priya settled opposite me looking entirely comfortable. I had the air of a man returning to a dentist voluntarily.

I played ZA. It is not a word I would ordinarily offer in conversation, but ordinary conversation rarely rewards two letters so satisfactorily. Priya challenged it at once. The challenge was crisp, certain and delivered with the quiet authority of someone removing an obvious error from an otherwise sound system. I tried not to look too hopeful.

She consulted the ship dictionary and discovered that it was valid. For a moment she looked personally betrayed by the English language. I enjoyed that moment with the restraint appropriate to a guest, which is to say not nearly enough restraint to conceal my pleasure. Unfortunately, possessing one irritatingly legitimate word did not amount to a sustainable strategy. I still lost.

Container slept on the score pad, a position that gave her considerable influence over the documentary record. Neither of us wished to be the one who moved her, so she remained where she was, breathing softly through our calculations. I admired the completeness of her victory. Priya had beaten me at Scrabble, I had briefly annoyed Priya with a dictionary, and the cat had secured the only outcome involving no effort at all.