the card cheat

A day or so ago, I was talking to my son on my cellphone. Now, I think I am pretty well-versed in the ins-and-outs of my phone, but every so often, I have one of those mishaps that I accuse "old people" of having. You know, something goes inexplicably wrong with a piece of sophisticated electronic equipment and the elicited response is "It must have done that by itself! I didn't touch anything!" Yes, I have pointed the finger at many an older person for such an infraction, knowing full well that it was absolutely something they did. Cellphones — as well as computers, tablets, remote controls — don't just do things. The user just did something — pushed a button, hit a key, double-clicked on something they should have single-clicked on — of which they were not aware and triggered some unexpected result. That story about Bartlett Finchley, on a 1960 episode of Twilight Zone, was just a story. Machines aren't "out to get us." We're just.... um.... clumsy.

So, during my conversation with my son, I must have pressed my face hard on the screen, essentially "clicking" an icon on the home screen. This brought up my Contacts. Then, unknown to me, I dialed a number at the top of the list. It was an acquaintance from high school named Adam*. What Adam's name and number is doing in my Contact list, I am not quiet sure. I haven't spoken to him in over forty years. And even forty years ago, I had very little to say to him. My son was in mid-sentence and suddenly he was interrupted by a muffled ringing. I looked around the room and saw nothing unusual. I pulled the phone away from my ear and saw Adam's name in big letters across the screen along with the words " Dialing...." Panicked, I hit the red "end call" icon and continued my conversation. I didn't mention what had just transpired to my son, lest I be subject to a little finger-pointing myself.

I knew Adam in high school. He was a friend-of-a-friend. I wasn't especially fond of him. If I remember, he hung with a different group than I did. (There were a lot of students in my high school.) Our paths crossed very infrequently. Our few encounters were not pleasant ones. He was one of those "one-up-you" kind of guys. Every comment was met with his attempt to do you one better. If you said your father just bought a car, he would counter that his father just bought a better and bigger car. If you told of a restaurant you went to, he would belittle your experience and tell you of a fancier and more expensive restaurant he went to with his family. His face was twisted into a constant sneer and you could just feel him looking down on everyone.

When I was in high school, I got together with a group of friends on a very irregular basis to play cards. It wasn't a "high stakes" game. We played for nickels and dimes. Some of us didn't have jobs and those that did, didn't have a lot of expendable income. It was a friendly, often silly, game and more of an excuse to congregate to talk, eat and listen to records. If we got in a few hands of poker, well then the evening was a success. One weekend evening, I showed up at a friend's house to play cards and Adam was there. I guess my friend was his friend, too, although I don't think I was aware that they even knew each other. This was the first time that Adam was included in our card game.

We all sat down at the table, making sure that we were properly surrounded with soda and chips and other assorted — yet very important — snacks. Someone made sure that the stereo was pumping out an album side that we all agreed on. We were ready to begin. Adam, of course, spoke up first. He suggested a bunch of variations on poker that we could play. Everyone at the table turned to him and frowned, opting instead to play the games we were used to — five-card draw, seven-card draw and something with a specific card or suit designated as "wild." Nothing too complicated. Adam scoffed at our plebian decision and reluctantly went along with majority rule, his signature sneer forming across his lips.

We played for an uneventful hour or so... until Adam got a little squirmy. Then someone spotted a few cards under Adam's wrist. He was unsuccessfully trying to conceal them from his fellow players. Someone angrily stood up and alerted the other players.

"What are those cards?," he yelled. Those who were not immediately aware of what was going on, were certainly aware now. Adam had been caught cheating! In a nickel-and-dime card game! Among friends!

Adam hemmed and hawed and made a million different excuses. I stood up. I began to put on my coat. I thanked my friend for hosting the game that evening. Then I turned to Adam and told him that I would never ever play cards in a game that included him. I left. In the ensuing weeks and months of high school, I avoided Adam as much as physically possible. I never spoke to him again.

Many years later, my wife ran into Adam at a merchandise trade show. He was working as a salesman for a local wholesaler from which my wife often made purchases. Adam was showing my wife some new item and they got to talking. Through their conversation, he discovered that she was married to me and that we knew each other from high school. Later in the evening, my wife mentioned running into Adam. I hadn't heard his name in years! Many, many years! As soon as my wife spoke his name, I told her that he was caught cheating in a card game when we were teenagers. She frowned and the conversation ended.

After I "cheek-dialed" Adam on my cellphone, he called me back and left a voicemail for me. I listened to his message. He said he saw I called and he looked forward to my returning his call... as though we were best friends and our friendship was a strong bond that had remained strong for all these years.

I deleted his contact information from my phone.

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* His name is not "Adam."