And we go through phases where one of us always has a deck of cards in our purses or back pockets, because sitting around is good, but sometimes it is nice to have something to do. Somehow, we haven’t all gotten around to learning the same good games; Lucy and I will play rummy if it’s just the two of us, but it’s rarely that anymore, and the boys don’t have the patience to listen to the rules when we’re already sprawled out at a table somewhere with just enough left in us to shuffle. The compromise is B.S. (the game)— bullshit— it’s the one where you have to see who’s lying. It’s a bit like poker in that way, only it’s for children, or for people who don’t want to commit to more than twenty minutes of gameplay, or for people who don’t want to actually put anything on the table.
And when Alex comes back with another round of waters, because we’ve given up on spending money for the night (but we don’t have to feel so bad, because the bars are already dead enough in January, and we’ve already ordered about a drink and a half each), the first hand has been dealt, and we’re already playing.
Your turn, we say to him. You’re threes. And Alex sits down, and he puts down the waters, and he picks up his cards, looking at them without showing much. Then he puts a card down on the little pile we’ve started in the middle of the four of us, and he says one three (this is basically how the game works. It gets boring fast). He says it quickly— I think I hear a bit of bullshit in his voice— I try to look him in the eyes to confirm my suspicions, but he won’t bite back; he’s already looking down, rearranging his hand for no real good reason. Anyway, it’s too early in the game to bother calling anything (this is how we, decidedly, play).
Lucy puts two cards down. Two fours, she says. And Paul, of course, skeptically replies, two fours? while half-squinting, right before taking a big thirsty sip of Alex-provided water— because even though it’s too early in the game to bother calling anything, it’s good to let Lucy know that, if she is lying, we’re sort of onto her. I take a sip of water, too. It tastes a little funny; really, it just tastes a bit like melted ice; I still swallow it fine. Lucy smiles very slightly, not quite back towards Paul, but in response to him. I’m almost positive she put down one real four and one fake one (the fact that I can be almost positive of this makes it feel like our nice little secret).
And now it’s my turn. I look down at my hand, which is notably five-less. With what I will to be the lack of an expression on my face, I loosely place the Jack of Spades facedown on the pile, saying one five. Alex locks eyes with me quickly, before I can find somewhere else to pretend to focus. If I look away now, he’ll know; he probably knows already, but the game becomes tedious even more quickly if we start to give ourselves up without even trying. I blink. He blinks. What? I ask. Nothing, he says, and he’s looking at me hard now, and it isn’t fair.
Three sixes, Paul says. Our eye contact breaks. Paul lets his palm linger over the pile before dropping a trio of cards, slightly bent from where he’s held them. Lucy and Alex’s mouths open at the same time; Lucy’s laugh moves up in pitch when Alex’s moves down. I laugh because they’re laughing. Paul just sits with a small smile. Three? we all ask him. Three sixes? And Paul sort of shrugs. And Alex is still half-laughing when he says it; he says B.S.; come on. And then Lucy says yeah. Bulllllllshit, and we can all feel her tongue in her mouth in our ears when she says it, and it feels good. And I just stay quiet while Paul stays quiet and flips over the top card with his left thumb: six of hearts. Well, you’ve got one, I say; we all know having one doesn’t mean shit when you decide to say you have a ridiculous three. Show the rest, Lucy says, reaching for the cards herself. Paul blocks her hand calmly with his lightly hairy wrist and flips over the second card: six of diamonds. Don’t make us wait for the third one, Alex says, prompting Paul to pick up the last card and hold it to his chest, facing it firmly away from us. Lucy and Alex glance at each other with a knowing annoyance I’m almost privy to; I try to smile; my eyes float for a moment before fixing themselves on the card. Paul turns it around, looking at me, probably aware that I’m the only one watching: six of clubs. Alex and Lucy notice at the same time, and they begin to gasp and groan; they both called bullshit on Paul, who has now been proven honest, so now they both have to get the punishment dealt out to them; this is how we play. I pick up the pile and split it in two. The bullshit-callers take their halves quietly, without a fight.
And then it’s Alex’s turn again. What are we on? Sevens? One seven. And I can see the King of Spades bleeding out from underneath his hand as he puts his card down— and I think he did that on purpose, because now he’s looking at me like he just wants to see what I’ll do.
Lucy, I say. You’re eights.
The Junction Journal 
When reading this, I had a smile on my face. These small interactions often go unnoticed in over daily lives, but the way you described this game of cards reminded me of how meaningful they can be. I’m really loving the way you describe every tiny detail, from the taste of the water to the eye contact to the way your friends laugh. Your word choice is perfect. Your choice to use the word “bullshit”, makes this post feel more real, like you’re talking to a group of friends instead of strangers on the Internet. I really loved that last line, “Lucy, I say. You’re eights.” It’s a really short line but it says so much. It perfectly captures the essence of friendship and the little moments that makes life so amazing.
LikeLike
Honestly speaking, this was an interesting read. It’s pretty cool to see an entry that’s revolved around something as simple as a group of friends playing a card game with each other. The fact that the game in question is also something that they’ve created for themselves independently reminds me of the many instances in which my friends and I would do the exact same thing, like turning a random board game into an entirely new concept to keep ourselves entertained. This whole story has a lot of aspects to it that just makes it feel genuine, it’s an interaction that feels realistic, one that the audience can Invision themselves being in. The scene in paragraph six where the cast react to Paul’s play of dropping the trio cards is probably one of the best examples of this throughout the story; “Lucy’s laugh moves up in pitch when Alex’s moves down. I laugh because they’re laughing. Paul just sits with a small smile. Three? we all ask him. Three sixes? And Paul sort of shrugs. And Alex is still half-laughing when he says it; he says B.S.; come on. And then Lucy says yeah. Bulllllllshit,…” It’s not a life-threatening situation or anything, but more so a humorous exchange that displays the lighthearted vibe of being with people you like to spend time with, showing the stakes that they hold for this game as well. Every description from line to line greatly aids in portraying the tone of the atmosphere, which in full effect makes for a really solid story, dope!
LikeLike