My mother didn't know about the deal between my grandfather and I. Though my father passed, my grandfather's gym was still up and running. I'd often help out at the gym when my father was alive, so when I told my mom I'd be helping my grandfather that night, she didn't have a reason to be suspicious.

My grandfather picked me up in his old pickup truck. I couldn't remember much of what it looked like, but I could remember the smell of the rust on the hood and the way the engine growled as he pressed the gas. His catalytic converter was out for as long as I could remember, I could smell the unfiltered fumes seeping out of it, even if he was down the street.

I honestly loved that car. I loved feeling the vibrations as the engine roared. I guess most people would look out the window as they ride in a car, but I enjoyed feeling my body rumbling in my seat. The way the car vibrated allowed me to sort of map out what was around us.

My grandpa and I used to play a game whenever we were at a traffic light. He'd ask me how many cars were waiting at the light with us and I'd be either right or one to two cars off. Pretty impressive for a kid without eyes, I guess.

It wasn't long before we ended up at our destination...

My grandfather's home. 

I had the entire city mapped out in my brain after years of riding blindly in the passenger seat, so I knew exactly where we were. "I thought we were training?" I asked him. He opened his driver's side door and grunted as he stepped out. Before he shut the door, I heard him say. "We are." 

The door shut and I began climbing out of the car through the passenger's side door with my walking stick. My grandfather approached and walked side by side with me, acting as my guide. I didn't really need anyone to guide me, but I always appreciated the gesture.

"Then why are we at your house?"

"Training."

My grandfather loved being vague, and quite frankly, it always sort of pissed me off. I sighed, wondering what he had planned for me as I followed him toward the house. We stopped in front of his garage door and he inputted the garage's code: 1 2 2 6. The garage door started to open, and at this point, I figured he must have had a setup in there that I'd never witnessed. 

I expected some weights, a punching bag, and other gear for boxing. Of course, when the garage door fully opened, I hadn't a clue what was inside. Nonetheless, the two of us entered his garage before I heard a chair scrape against the concrete in front of me. "Sit."

I did as he said, folding my walking stick before setting it aside and sitting on the metal folding chair he pulled out for me. Once I sat, I could tell there was a table in front of me, so I began feeling around slowly for anything that could give me hints about what type of training this was going to be.

The table was an old, chipped wooden one with a single corner broken off on my side. It smelled of mahogany and beer, I could even feel a stain from one of my grandfather's beer cans on the other side of the table. 

'This is just some ordinary table...' I thought to myself. I figured maybe we were going to wrap my hands while sitting or maybe he was just having me wait there while he gathered our boxing gear. However, I would have my answer without a single word being said as he placed a board on the table, along with a bag filled with pieces of ivory.

"Chess?" I whispered. My grandfather pulled his chair, sat down, and scooted himself forward before handing me the bag filled with ivory pieces. I felt inside, and I could make out the shape of a knight and a rook, confirming my suspicions.

"Grandpa, I said I want to learn how to box, not play chess. I already know how to play chess, I beat my dad all the time."

My grandfather laughed at me once I said this. It was a slight chuckle, but he found it funny nonetheless. "Oh, did you? Either he was washed or he was going easy on you. My guess is the latter." He then continued to laugh, and by this point, I was growing irritated.

"What's so funny, gramps?" 

"You truly have no idea how your father became a world-class boxer, do you, boy?"

"Training with you and Mom."

"Your father had to become a grandmaster-level chess player before he was allowed to even put on a pair of gloves in my gym. Or at least, he had to beat one a single time." 

I could hear the smile on his face as he spoke to me. It was a smirk, one full of pride. "You're a grandmaster?" I asked him.

"Once upon a time, I was." 

For some reason, this was news to me. No one ever mentioned that my grandfather was apparently a chess god.

"Well, congrats. What does this have to do with boxing?"

My grandfather said nothing and took the bag from my hands. He then began placing all of the pieces on the board, one by one. "So you're just not gonna answer my question?" I asked him. He still didn't respond.

It wasn't until he finished setting up the board before he spoke once more. "If you want to box, you have to beat me. You're playing white, so you go first."

'Whatever. If Dad could beat him, then so can I.' I was pretty confident I could win. My father made it a point to never go easy on me. He knew how much I hated being pitied because of my disability, so he treated me as if I were a sighted individual in anything we did. 

"E4." I said as I moved my pawn onto the E4 square. I heard my grandfather exhale before he grabbed one of his pieces and placed it in an instant. "E6."

We played for about five moves before I heard him call out, "Checkmate" and the game ended. "What!?" 

"Checkmate."

"I heard what you said." I started feeling around the board, checking all of the pieces. He was right, there was nothing I could do to win the match. I had completely lost. "How?" I muttered, only to hear my grandfather's croaky cackle reverberating off of the walls of his garage.

"It's simple, really. You suck."