Otherwise - 54682

Otherwise
after Jane Kenyon
By Mark Anderson

I woke up this morning
feeling refreshed and clear.
It has lately been otherwise.

I guzzled a liter of water
while brewing the coffee.
It has lately been otherwise.

I drove you to work and missed you
the moment you left the car.
It has lately been otherwise.

54682
By Michael Herman

Harry Phillips sat down for a game of dice. It was a game of his own invention and the rules were simple. There were two die and Harry would start the game by setting a goal number. Sometimes it was a high number and sometimes it was a low number. He would then continue to roll the dice for multiple turns. If their total was more than the goal number, he won. If their total was less than the goal number, he lost. In the case of equaling the goal, he simply rolled again. Since he was playing alone, it was what he did anyway. Harry was simple like the rules of the game so he thought it would amuse him.

However he had not won the game in nearly thirty years. Every night since May 5th, 1967, when he was both younger and more inclined to believe in chance, Harry sat down at his kitchen table after his wife went to bed and began rolling the die. He would roll them repeatedly onto one of his wife’s woven placemats to dampen the sound. Over and over and over until he reached the point of exhaustion. Without fail, he would lose the game of his own construction.

At first he thought it had something to do with the dice. The dice he used were worn from years of playing the game. All of the edges were rounded off and they would often take many more additional tumbles than a new pair. You could even tell the faces of the die were wearing away because of how shallow the dots were becoming.

His suspicion was unfounded. The condition of the dice was the same when he rolled the initial goal number as when he was rolling each successive time. For all intents and purposes, they were the exact same conditions except with a consistently different result. The same went for the placemat, the table, the chair he sat in, how he sat, how he rolled the dice, etc. In each case, the conditions were the same and even the introduction of new variables like sitting more upright after setting the goal had no effect.

The next thing he investigated was if it was something not obvious which was affecting the game. Harry was never superstitious and in fact had faithfully attended church every Sunday with his wife since they were first married. In his mind, if there was anyone who deserved the Good Lord’s favor, it was him. Still it nagged at him and he tried different things which may or may not have an unknown influence on the dice. He tried thinking of the result he wanted as he rolled. He didn’t look at the dice as they tumbled. He tried holding his breath as he rolled. Each technique was tested hundreds of times and each time the result was a loss.

Finally he gave up trying to figure out the cause and believed he could figure it out by just observing. There was something there which he simply hadn’t noticed yet. Only by the close and considered playing of the game could he figure out the root of the anomalous results. So he continued to play well after like-minded people would’ve given up and taken on new amusement.

Earlier tonight he had again waited until his wife grew tired and retired to their bedroom. She had a routine of her own and he knew to wait until she washed her face, brushed her teeth and came to give him a good-night kiss. Like every night since October 23rd, 1971 he pretended to read the newspaper in his favorite easy chair while she rattled around in the bathroom. Originally he had actually read the paper and it had occurred to him at some point in 1969 to check if there was something special about the last date he’d won the game as if he were a part of a larger phenomenon. When he found nothing of note and no pattern emerged from the news stories he read, the paper became a prop to his ruse.

“Good night, Harry,” his wife said as she crossed the living room. “Come to bed soon.”

She kissed him and Harry smiled a compact smile at her. He made no noise and she returned across the same path which carried her into the room. Once he heard her weight press down into their queen-sized bed, he folded his paper nicely and carried it to the mudroom to be stacked atop the other newspapers for recycling. After rescuing the dice from the family Monopoly game, Harry sat in his usual chair at the kitchen table where he could see the door to the bedroom. He placed the woven placemat in its usual configuration wider than it was tall and shook the dice to set the goal number.

Nine.

Harry knew there were five combinations which could win against a nine. He could get two fives, two sixes, and either a four or five and a six. At first he was reassured by getting a higher number as the goal. The lower numbers were more frustrating. At least with a higher number, there were fewer opportunities to win so it simply followed the cause was just that there were fewer chances to win and that’s why he wasn’t winning. That theory went out the window when his losing streak extended well beyond when the law of averages should’ve entered in and given him a win. Now he abhorred the higher numbers. He wanted the best chance to win and rolling a nine gave him a lessened chance of winning.

He took the dice into his hand again and rolled them onto the mat.

Five.

He rolled again.

Four

He rolled.

Six.

Again.

Eight.

Again.

Two.