Elliot Allagash by Simon Rich

Avenue.”
    “Actually, our offer was
twelve
hundred,” Elliot corrected. “But still, an excellent deal.”
    My father put down the dice and glared at them.
    “I already told you,” he said. “I’m not giving up my monopoly. Not for any amount of money.”
    Terry chuckled.
    “Suit yourself.”
    There seemed to be a lot riding on this game. Usually, if I offered my dad a trade, he would accept it automatically. But when I offered him a get-out-of-jail-free card for Short Line Railroad, he had flatly rejected me. My father rolled the dice and I held my breath as they skittered across the board. They collided with some Allagash hotels and eventually came to a stop by the Community Chest cards: a three…and a four.
    “Seven!” I shouted. “That’s Free Parking!”
    My father thrust his fist in the air and made a grunting noise.
    “Yes!” he shouted. “Yes!”
    I held up my hand and he slapped it, hard.
    “What time is it?” I asked. “Is it ten, Mom?”
    “Um…”
    “It’s ten!” my father said, waving his watch in the air. “It’s exactly ten! Game over!”
    He leaned forward and scooped up the enormous stack of money from the center of the board, while laughing and tousling my hair.
    “Congratulations,” Terry said, extending his hand.
    My father slapped it.
    “Don’t feel too bad for losing, Terry. I’m an economics professor, so this game is kind of my thing.”
    “You know,” Elliot said. “Strictly speaking Free Parking isn’t an official part of the—”
    Terry cut him off.
    “Thanks for having us,” he said. “We had a wonderful time.”
    • • •
    My father leaned back in his chair while my mother finished Windexing the table.
    “Did you see the look on Terry’s face?” he said. “When I rolled that seven?”
    My mother scooped some crumbs into her cupped hand and went back into the kitchen without responding.
    “It was great, Dad,” I said. “Really, really great.”
    “You’d think a business tycoon would know a little something about Monopoly! Especially a robber baron like Terry Allagash! Oh man…that family hasn’t been creamed like that since the Sherman Act!”
    I had no idea what he was talking about, but I laughed along anyway. It was the happiest I’d seen him since he’d handed in his book six weeks earlier.
    “The trick is to
control the board,”
he said. “I knew I had them in the palm of my hand with those greens so I—”
    The phone rang. He answered with a cheery “Hey!”—but his smile quickly faded.
    “Yes…okay…I understand…”
    He took the phone into his bedroom and closed the door. My mother, who had been watching from the kitchen, sat down next to me.
    “What’s going on?” I asked her.
    She didn’t respond. She just kept her eyes locked on the closed door. Eventually, my father came out and slumped down beside us. His face was pale. He didn’t say anything.
    “What’s wrong?” my mom whispered. “Who was that?”
    “My agent,” he said. “They sold my book.”
    “Oh my gosh!” my mom shouted, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you! Oh, we need to celebrate!”
    She poured the last bit of wine into a glass and handed it to my father.
    “Which one was it? The St. Louis one?”
    “No.”
    “The Canadian one?”
    “No.”
    “Then…who was it?”
    “It was Bishop,” he said, forcing a smile. “They changed their minds. In the middle of the night.”
    He stared at the wine glass for a moment and handed it back to my mother.
    “Cheers,” he said.
    • • •
    My parents usually policed my television watching, but they were having some kind of argument in their bedroom and didn’t have time to deal with me. I sat on the living room couch for hours, watching old sitcoms, trying to make out their distant voices. Eventually, they came out of the bedroom and sat on either side of me. I apologized for watching TV so late, but I could tell they weren’t mad. My mom unbuttoned my shirt collar and