Chapter Text
Beth Harmon felt more at peace than she could ever remember. She looked out the window of the Aeroflot jet heading toward Orly airport in France gazing down at the countryside underneath racing by, her mind going over the last week, the most wonderful experience of her life. She was supposed to have flown out yesterday morning, the day after the tournament concluded with her victory over Vasily Borgov, the reigning world champion, but because she took that walk on a whim and spent the rest of the afternoon in the park, the flight had to be rescheduled to the next day. It caused a bit of a flurry with the embassy and the State Department, but they managed to make all of the arrangements.
The lull of the plane engines was soothing. Booth, the State Department man assigned to come along for protection at the Invitational did not speak to her, absorbed in whatever he was reading, and probably still annoyed at Beth for screwing up his schedule. This suited her just fine. She just wanted to be alone, remembering the day before, playing chess. Just playing chess for the fun of it. She had played game after game with the old men in the park, a different one each time, feeling content, safe, at peace within her world of sixty-four squares. Even as she beat them, they were happy to see how she had done it, and she loved just analyzing the games with them, showing them the lines of play that she saw, enjoying their excitement every time when they saw what she was showing them.
Her Russian was still poor, and she asked pardon for mangling the language as she spoke to them, but they were very understanding and tolerant of her. Fortunately, she did understand most of what they were saying, so they were able to communicate fairly well. Booth, of course, was close by watching over her, and at those times she didn’t understand he stepped in and interpreted back and forth.
When she played the games, she was pleased that each of her opponents recorded their moves very carefully. They wanted to study the game for the next time they encountered the same position. But also, they wanted to have proof they really played the great ‘Liza Harmon’. She felt honored that they used the diminutive form of her name. Such use would normally happen only between people who are well acquainted with each other and between relatives. Between strangers it would be rude, but the old men were telling her that they knew her, accepted her, admired her, that she was now one of them, a fellow chess player.
After each game, the opponent gently bowed to her as they shook her hand, smiling. By the end of the day, a large crowd had gathered around to watch, and even a few reporters and photographers were there to record the event. Many of them were autograph seekers and her driver who thought she looked like Ann-Margret had called in extra men to keep the crowd from getting too uncontrolled. Booth later told her he was KGB, but she had already guessed that. She signed autograph after autograph after she finished playing, several times between games. When she did that back home, she was always a little apprehensive. She didn’t trust people being this close to her normally, feeling threatened. But here she was completely relaxed with no fear, none whatsoever, only a feeling of pure joy and contentment, because they were the same as her. They were chess players. She kept thinking ‘These are my people’.
When she finally had to leave at sunset, she was still signing autographs. Booth had urgently told her they needed to go. She was amazed that almost all of the people were still there. She apologized, explaining she had to leave. Her Russian, though broken, was good enough to convey how heartfelt she was at their acceptance of her, and that she hoped to be able to return and do it again. They applauded once more, and many of the old men again bowed respectfully, the joy evident on their faces as they uttered their dasvedaniyas to her. Another solid round of applause and cheering came from the crowd as she was literally escorted back to the hotel by them like a parade. The park wasn’t that far away from it. When they reached the hotel she turned and waved again. Another round of applause and cheering greeted her before she went inside. Booth and the driver had stayed on either side of her watching for any trouble. She felt like she was in heaven, and had not ever felt this fulfilled and happy. Everything made sense here.
Like the Russians, Booth had kept watch over her the entire time she was there, making sure that no threat got anywhere near. He later said she was so popular in Russia right now that there probably would have been another Russian revolution if anything had happened to her. Apparently, even General Secretary Brezhnev was aware of the situation and had made it known she was to be safeguarded. Of course, the Russian government certainly did not want to have any kind of diplomatic incident with the U.S. if something happened to their number one player who had just beaten the World Champion on his home court.
But the Russian people had truly adopted her as one of their own and gladly kept her safe. She hadn't talked about any political subjects to the press. In fact she made it clear she did not want to talk on that subject at all, nor did she try to impress any kind of American superiority. She was there to play chess, nothing else, so there was no antipathy toward her for being American. In their minds she was just this wonderful, beautiful girl who played the Russian national game they loved with an excellence and dignity rarely seen. They saw this as a form of respect for, even confirmation, of their own way of life.
On the plane, Booth handed her a copy of Pravda, the main newspaper in Moscow. The front page had a picture of her playing one of the old men, alongside a face portrait of Borgov. She tried to read the article, but could not make out much. She still had trouble with the Cyrillic characters, and promised herself she was going to do better at reading and speaking the language. When she asked Booth about it, he said the article was very complementary toward her.
This was the world she wanted to be in. She wished she could have lived in that park with the old men. They understood her. She understood them. Their world held no danger.
Unfortunately, she had to leave. She didn’t know how she would exactly get back, but if there was a chance there was really just one way she could do it. She had to go for the world championship. It made no difference to her there had never been a female world champion, nor had there ever been one as young as her. These were insignificant details in her mind.
Why it was possible was simple. She had beaten Borgov, proven he was not invincible. The more she thought about it, she saw she could do it again. But the Russian chess federation would be paying a lot more attention to her now. They had no idea how good she really was before the tournament. Now they did, and they would not be surprised a second time. She hoped they wouldn’t anticipate how much more she was sure she would improve.
She had no plan exactly how she would do that, though; right now she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to enjoy the feeling of calm and satisfaction of the moment. Her mind went back to Borgov. Ever since she first read about him in Chess Review years ago, he was in her mind this incredible cold hearted domineering machine who crushed everyone and everything in his path. He was truly unbeatable and this was the one thing that really frightened her. She could feel the moments of terror over the three games they had already played, her stomach tying up in knots whenever she saw the listing on the tournament board showing him as her next opponent, even the game she had just won, and sitting across the board from him almost made her panic and run out of the room.
When she saw him at the zoo in Mexico City with his wife and son, that was the first inkling that he was more than this merciless unfeeling monster. But it was the moment when Borgov gave her his black king, hugged her, and then applauded with everyone else, that had truly astonished her.
She had to control herself from breaking down in pure happiness, her eyes tearing up as she struggled not to cry. Yes, Borgov as an opponent was tougher than iron, unfeeling with that expressionless face, unyielding and unforgiving, the most dangerous, and the best player she had ever faced. But she had never suspected this side of him also existed, so empathic and giving, so human, so accepting of her without any judgement.
***
She really did not want to go to the White House but there was no way to avoid it. She wore the Navy Blue dress with the white trim that she had played in at the tournament. It was dry cleaned for her while she slept in the hotel overnight. There had been a crowd at Dulles that cheered her when she deplaned, but thankfully she was met by US Secret Service and taken directly to her hotel, bypassing all the gawkers and their autograph books and signs. The hotel was nice, though not as nice as it was in Russia.
When she entered the White House the next morning, she was met by the Press Secretary and informed of the order of events. She would be brought into the Oval Office where the President would congratulate her on her victory, then several legislators would be brought in and introduced to her. The press would come in last and they would witness a short game between her and the President. Pictures would be taken of the event in various poses, looking over the game in play, shaking hands, and standing with other politicians.
When everything was ready, she was ushered in. The President was sitting behind his desk, and he stood to greet her with a genuine smile, the Vice President just behind him.
“Miss Harmon. It is a such a delight to meet you.”, he said in his Texas drawl, “I’m sure you know who this is.”
Beth shook hands with the President first and then turned and shook hands with the Vice President as well, murmuring, “It’s nice to meet you both, sir.”
The President continued, “I want you to know that the entire country is behind you in your career, and we congratulate you on your brilliant victory. I’m sure we’ll see more great things in the future with you and hopefully a resurgence of American chess.”
Beth quietly thanked him again.
“Now, I confess that I don’t play chess. I tried to learn it once, but I just didn’t have the mind for it. The Vice President does know how to play.”
“Not very well, I’m afraid, Miss Harmon,”, he replied with a smile and a chuckle.
“He’s agreed to be your sacrificial lamb for the game today.”, the President said.
They all laughed quietly as she nodded, understanding.
“When did you start playing chess, young lady?”
“I was eight, Mr. President.”
“My word, eight years old. I understand you grew up in an orphanage in Kentucky.”
“Yes sir. I learned how to play chess from the janitor.”
“He must be very proud of you now.”
Beth looked down a moment before facing the President again.
“I think he would be, sir. But he passed away a while ago.”
The President lost his smile, “My condolences, Miss Harmon. I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right, sir. Thank you for the kind words.”
“Very well.”, he replied, smiling again. He turned to the Press Secretary.
“Okay, let’s bring the herd in.”
She opened the door and people started coming in, so many it got quite crowded, which set Beth on edge. She never liked crowds, especially if their attention was on her. It still seemed remarkable to her that she did not feel that way in the park in Moscow.
The President began introducing her to several members of Congress and a couple of senators. She shook hands and smiled as they filed past her. The Press had also come in behind them and were now snapping pictures, the flash bulbs irritating her further. She could not remember any of the names of the people she met past the Speaker of the House. By the time she finished shaking hands, she was starting to get sweaty and nervous. The chess set was just in front of the desk. The Vice President played the white pieces; the game was over in thirteen moves.
Everyone clapped at the win as the Vice President laid his king down on the board.
The press continued to snap dozens of pictures of her standing by the board, next to the President and Vice President. Reporters asked her the same inane questions.
“ How did it feel to beat the Russians at a sport they’ve dominated for the last twenty years?”
“I’m just glad to win, whether it’s against the Russians or anybody else.”
“What did you do to prepare for the tournament?”
“I studied the games of the other competitors, to learn their styles and look for any possible weaknesses.”
“Did the Russians have any weaknesses you could exploit?”
She shook her head, “No, they didn’t. That’s why they’re the best in the world at it. I think they just weren’t expecting me to be strong enough to compete with them.”
“There’s never been a woman world champion. How does it feel to be one.”
She looked at the reporter momentarily with anger, about to jump down his throat, but quickly controlled it.
“That’s not how it works. I am not the World Champion. Vasily Borgov is the World Champion and has been for the past eight years. Yes, I won one game against him, but he has beaten me twice. One game alone does not determine who holds the title. The championship is determined every three years. There is a qualifying tournament for the best challengers. Eight are chosen from that tournament and they play a single elimination series of matches. The winner of that gets the right to challenge the champion in a twenty four game match.”
The President interrupted momentarily, looking squarely at the reporter, “As to your other inference, I should say the fact she’s a woman is irrelevant. In fact I believe Miss Harmon did mention at one time that it was easier to play chess without the burden of an Adam’s Apple.”
Everyone in the room laughed except the reporter.
"How about the woman's world championdhip?"
Beth smiled, "The women's world champion is Nona Gaprindashvili. I would love to play her. But like her, I see no need to limit myself to just playing the women. She's a strong international master who had held her own against male players as much as anybody, and has beaten top grandmasters all over the world."
"So you'll play her?"
"I'm sure at some point it will happen. I look forward to it."
“So will you then challenge Borgov at some point for the championship?", the reporter asked.
She paused a second before answering, “Every serious chess player always aspires to do just that.”
“Will you next year?”
She shook her head, “I haven’t competed in enough tournaments to qualify for this coming year’s championship.”
“What about the next one in ‘72?”
She paused again in answering, “Well, Mikhail Tal was the youngest official world champion in history at the age of twenty-five, and the next youngest was in his mid-thirties."
She shrugged and smiled.
"I’m only nineteen. We’ll just have to see.”
There was more laughter and then the Press Secretary announced that was all the time they had. The press and photographers filed out as did the legislators, each of them shaking her hand again and congratulating her once more. When they were all gone, the President turned back to her.
“Young lady, it has been a genuine pleasure to meet you. I wish I had more time to hear your fascinating story, but there’s work for this lame duck president to do here, I’m afraid. I do wish you a lot of luck in your endeavors.”
Thanking them once more, she shook both their hands and was escorted out by the Press Secretary. As she was led outside, the Press Secretary smiled and thanked Beth for coming, wishing her luck as well. The Secret Service then drove her back to her hotel and she was done. The reception at the Russian Chess Club in Georgetown had been the previous night and could not be rescheduled. She was only too delighted to miss it. An afternoon flight back to Lexington took her home.
At Blue Grass Airport, she exited the plane and was stepping down the boarding ramp stairs as she heard the marching band suddenly start playing. She had been looking down, watching her step, and was startled. She paused and looked up, wondering what was going on when she saw the signs ‘Welcome Home Beth Harmon!’ and “Kentucky’s Native Daughter!’, among others. Her cheeks reddened. She paused a moment and let out a heavy breath, then continued on down the ramp where she was met by excited, smiling people who started shaking her hand.
Two state police officers put themselves at her side, obviously her official escort. The first person to meet her was the mayor, shaking her hand energetically with an enthusiastic smile on his face. He started talking immediately, saying how wonderful it was to have such a great competitor and lovely young lady represent Kentucky and Lexington to the world. He continued to drone on, but she didn’t hear him. She wanted nothing more than to get away from them all. After shaking hands with so many more people she was sure she would never see again, she again endured the press asking the same questions with photographers snapping away, She shook hands with the mayor a few more times so they could get the shot. A large brass key on a small base with a plaque on it was presented to her, noting she was being given the ‘key to the city of Lexington’, along with the date.
Eventually she was able to beg off, saying she was tired and needed to go home, and the official welcome was finished. She was escorted by state police through the terminal as they called a taxi for her. People were still following and pestering her, wanting autographs or to talk. She continued to beg off as much as she could, but they did not let up. She kept thinking how the Russians were so much more polite and respectful, even the enthusiastic women who greeted her before and after the games at the auditorium hall. Finally, she had to excuse herself and go to the restroom. Fortunately, no one else was in there, and the state police guarded the door so nobody else came in. She leaned over a sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror above it, seeing her eyes were red and tired. She dampened her neck with some water, dried off, and took some deep breaths relaxing as much as possible. When she felt better, she quickly went out and got past the crowd with the help of the police, and they guided her to the taxi taking her home.
Before she left, she dumped the ‘key’ into the restroom’s trash container.
***
“Did you really say that ‘bout Deardorff?”, Jolene blurted out over the phone.
“Yep, I did.”
“Really? That she liked being cruel to the girls?”,
“Well, it’s true, you know.”, Beth said smiling.
“I know! But man, you are cold, girl! I ‘bout peed my pants when I read it!”
Beth laughed with her. She sounded good, and she was looking forward to seeing her again.
“That was a nice thing you said ‘bout Shaibel, too.”
“Well, they didn’t print it in the Life interview. I made them promise to do it this time.”
“Good for you. Now you’re not just U.S. champion. You beat the World Champion too.”
“But that doesn’t make me World Champion. To do that, I have to become a candidate, beat the other candidates, and then play him twenty-four games with the first one to 12½ games winning.”
“Huh....They sure make you earn it.”
“Yep. That’ll be in a little over three years or so. Borgov will face a challenger this coming year. I wasn’t able to qualify soon enough for that, which is just as well. I just don’t want to think about it right now.”
“Are you going to do it in three years?”
“I am thinking about that, yes.”
“If you don’t, what will you do?”
Beth shrugged mentally, “I don’t know. Probably go and play tournaments, earn money.”
“Like that Benny fellow you told me about? So are you going to do that as a couple?”
Beth began to regret telling her about him. They had slept together a few times. It was fairly enjoyable, at least more than it had been with the other two men with whom she had slept, and with them she had only done it once. But it wasn't so good with Benny either, at least to her.
“We’re not a couple, Jolene. He was training me for Moscow. We work together as collaborators.”
“Ain’t that just another word for roommates?”
Beth huffed at her, “Damnit, Jolene!”
“I’m just saying......”, she replied passively, “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah........yeah. I will be.”
“I’m just a phone call away.”
“I know.”
“Okay, Talk to you later. We’re gonna do some squash on Saturday, right?”
Beth had to laugh, “What are you now? My own personal trainer?”
“Well, of course! Don’t chess players got to stay in shape?”
“Not that way!”
“I disagree. So you meet me, Saturday.”
“All right.”, Beth said smiling to herself, “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Okay, see you. Bye.”
“Bye.”
She smiled as she hung up the phone. Jolene always could cheer her up, even if she was aggravating Beth in some way like forcing her to exercise. But she was in Louisville, which still saddened her to be that far away, making it hard to see her.
When she had gotten home, there had been a convoy of reporters waiting on her. She told them she had no statement and walked into the house without answering a question. But they kept knocking at the door, tapping on the window trying to get her attention, until she finally had to call the police to get them to stop. The police did come and clear them out. But it had gotten her severely stressed. Without thinking, she went upstairs and opened up a bottle of pills. She caught herself. As she told Townes, she didn’t need them any more. And she was sure of it.... for about a day until Townes arrived.
So why did she still have the urge? The elation and joy of winning the tournament had worn off now. In its place, her stress level had gone dangerously high from having to go through that airport mess and all these reporters. God, she hated it.
She looked at the pills for a second and put them back in the bottle, then stashed it back in the medicine cabinet. It was getting crowded. There was a box of Polident in the back which she hadn’t seen before. She remembered Alma had used that stuff to clean her dentures. She pulled that out and threw it away to make more room. She might need to get more pills.
She had to keep herself busy to keep from getting overwhelmed by those thoughts, so she started cleaning up the house. But there was still a lot to do after she did just a few chores, and it was getting late. She thought ‘Tomorrow’ for the rest of them. She looked in the refrigerator and found some romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, and a few roma tomatoes. She cut these up and made a small salad for herself, using some bottled Italian dressing from the refrigerator. There was a six pack of bottled beer. She stared at it a while, wanting to chug one, then closed the refrigerator door and poured water into a glass. She sat down on the sofa, eating her salad, and started going through the mail that had piled up. This diet thing that Jolene had her on was going to kill her. God, she wanted a good burger.
The phone rang and she cursed softly under her breath. It had to be another reporter.
‘Dammit, I should have just left the thing off the hook!’, she thought.
“What is it?”, she spat into the receiver.
“Hey......I figured you’d beat me back.”
“Townes! You’re back too?
“Yeah. Sorry about calling so late, but I tried calling before and it was always busy.”
“No, I’m sorry. The phone was off the hook. I’m trying to avoid the reporters.”
“I don’t blame you, especially since I am one.”
She smiled, as he laughed.
“Listen, I’d love to see you again, and the paper wants an exclusive if you will let me.”
“Sure! How about tomorrow?”
“Great. Lunch?”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll come by your house.”
“I’ll cook. Okay?”
“Sure.”
***
He was only about five minutes late. She took the trouble to go to the market that morning and buy some steaks and potatoes. She grilled them both, timing it right for when he arrived. She answered the door, immediately hugging him close, staying that way for a long time.
When they released each other, he asked, “ How are you?”
She smiled, “I’m doing okay. Medium rare on the steak?”
He laughed, “That’s fine, Just how I like it.”
She went and pulled the steaks out and set them on the plates along with the potatoes. There was cheddar cheese, butter, chives, and sour cream already on the table, along with the Lea and Perrins. She opened a beer from the six pack she bought for him and put the bottle next to his plate, then got herself a glass of milk.
As they ate, he asked her viewpoints on the tournament, and her assessment of the matches and the opponents with everything being recorded on a portable tape recorder. When they finished, he helped her with the dishes. Then they went upstairs and he snapped some pictures of her with her chessboard.
When he was finished, he packed his equipment, making ready to go. Beth kept looking at her bed.
He noticed, “What are you thinking?”
She got embarrassed.
“It’s...........different from the last time we did this.”, she said.
He looked at the bed, then looked down as he smiled, the way he always did. She loved it when he did that.
He was still smiling when he looked back up, “Yes, but we are still friends, right?”
She looked back at him expectantly, but then nodded, “Yes, we are friends. I just kind of wished....that.....”
“I know.”, he said, “But you understand why I can’t.”
Her lips compressed to a thin line as she reluctantly nodded again.
“I didn’t know exactly how, you know, to handle it. But it’s good to see you.”, she said.
“It's okay, and I would like to get together with you every now and then too, just to see how you’re doing.”
“I’d like that. Will the other guys come by?”
“Yes. Matt and Mike should be by soon.”
“Guess I’ll have to go to New York to see the others?”
“You mean Benny?”
“Well, him too, of course.”, she said uncomfortably.
“Beth, I know you spent those weeks in New York training with him.”
“He was just training me. We aren’t, uh, intimate..... uh, not now anyway.”
“I heard differently.”
She stared at him, ‘Did Benny say some―”
“No.”, Townes said firmly, “Benny would never do that. He's not the kind to kiss and tell. It was Cleo."
She grimaced, “Yeah. Don’t believe everything she says. She’s pretty much been, you know, 'involved' with everyone there, it seems like.” She kept thinking she should not have spent that one night with Cleo herself.
“Uh, did he say anything?”, she added.
He grinned, “Only to say he’d call you. I was wondering why you didn’t call him.”
Her face fell.
“I couldn’t......I can’t”, she said, stone faced like she always got with unpleasantness, “I was always calling him, you know, asking him for help. I was like this whiny kid who wouldn't stop bothering him."
"I don't think that's how he looked at it. He called you more than you called him, right? At least that's what he said."
"Yeah, maybe. It didn't matter. I finally wore out my welcome. He was so pissed when I gave back the money to that Christian group. He told me to never call him again.”
“Well, Benny was never that sociable, you know.”
Her eyebrows knitted together as she asked, “He isn’t? It seems like he is. He's got a lot of friends.”
He chuckled low and said “I got the impression that whatever the two of you have was a good thing. So, are you friends too, or what?”
She grimaced again and looked away as she said, “I don’t know. In any case I think he considers me to be too much trouble.”
“Do you want to be with him?”
She did not want to discuss this with Townes. He was the one she wanted, and she didn’t like her having slept with someone else being a topic of discussion here.
He saw her frown slightly and duck her head, then he said, “Beth, it’s okay. If that’s what you want, I’m happy for you.”
“It’s not like that. We’re......just collaborators.....”
“.....that slept with each other.”
“It’s not like I want him or anything!”
He smiled that incredible smile she so loved, “If that’s the way you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She pulled her lips to one side of her face, “It’s okay, Townes. We’re both cool with it.”
“And he did help with Moscow at the end.”
“Yeah.....I still can’t believe he did it. I’m so glad you got him to agree to do that.”
Townes shook his head.
“You got it wrong. I didn’t arrange anything. It was all Benny.”
Stunned, she gawked, “It was Benny? How?”
“He was trying to find a way to get to the tournament, to be your second, even after your little ‘blow up’ with him, whatever that was. But it was last minute and he couldn’t swing it. He didn’t have the money, and couldn’t get the tickets in time anyway. We know each other from Chess Review and he thought I could help since I’m in the Press Corps, so he called me. I was already planning on going, but I wasn’t allowed to bring anyone with me. You know he practically ordered me to get on the damn plane and get to Russia? Then he called Mike and Matt to come....”
“He knows Mike and Matt?”
“And Harry! Beth, he knows everybody. He got Levertov and Wexler to come in too. He threatened them all at knife point with that toothpick he always carries around if they didn’t come help!”, he said laughing.
“But you know they all would have done it anyway. They knew they couldn’t help much if you completed your games, but they could go over the games of the others that were completed to give you insight on whomever you would play next. The important thing though was that if there was an adjournment, they had time to get the position from the papers and start analyzing it, like with the game with Borgov.”
“Benny did that?”, she said in wonder.
“Beth, he’s not pissed at you, at least not now.”
Her face was blank, not quite believing, “I’m.....I didn’t think that.....”
Townes looked at her slyly.
She slowly shook her head, “No, Townes. He’s the original chess bum. He dates other women all the time. He doesn’t want any.......entanglements. I don’t either. We’re just friends.”
“....that went to bed...”
She colored with embarrassment, “Are you going to keep harping on that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you having a relationship with him.”
“Townes, there’s nothing more to it than that! I not expecting anything more. Neither is he.”
“You’re sure?”
She just stared at him with an annoyed look, “Why are you pushing this?”
He grinned and held his arms out, gathering her into a big hug.
“Just be open to the whole situation. You never know. You could actually break his heart.”
She snorted, “Townes! Really, it’s not that serious.”
“Maybe, but you really do have a way of breaking hearts, you know.”
In his embrace she rolled her eyes, “Jeez! You’re going to throw that back at me?”
He pulled back, chuckling, still holding her arms, “What are friends for?
She grinned, playfully punching his arm.
“I think you two look good together.”
“But you’re the one I want!”, she said with a smirk.
He laughed, “You already have me!”
She looked back up at him with a mischievous face, smiling, but didn’t reply.
“I’ll call you.”, he said, “We’ll have lunch sometime.”
“Okay.”
He kissed her lightly on the cheek, a friend’s kiss or a brother’s.
They went downstairs and he waved at her as he went down the walk. She waved back and slowly shut the door, then watched from the window as he drove away, thoughts of regret briefly dancing in her mind. She got back into her routine of cleaning house.
That took the rest of the day. As the sun set, she again made herself dinner, just boiling a couple of eggs with toast and eating them with salt and butter before heading upstairs. She decided to go to sleep early, changing into pajamas and getting into bed. There was a copy of Chess Review on her night stand and she opened it and started to read, trying to find a game that was interesting. She found a couple that halfway intrigued her, and she could easily see the mistakes the analysts missed. She played the games out in her head with the corrections to see where they would go. Both times, the other side won if the mistake had not been made.
She began to think about this. What if instead of looking for the moves that won the games, what about looking for the moves that lost the game? She tossed this idea around in her head for awhile trying to figure out how to use it, when a loud knocking at the door startled her. She put on her dressing robe and headed downstairs cautiously, hoping this wasn’t some damn reporter really making a nuisance of himself. Then she heard a voice yell “Come on, Beth! Open up!”
She recognized that voice. Surprised, she ran up and opened the door and there they were. Mike, Matt, and Harry. They had beer, wine, snacks, barbeque, and pizza to celebrate. They immediately cheered and each one hugged her as they came in. Mike and Matt filed into the house and started setting things up in the kitchen. Harry brought up the rear. Beth grabbed his hand. He turned and looked at her. She led him back out onto the porch. Her face was scrunched up and apologetic, and it was clear this was hard for her.
“Hey, Harry...”
He smiled at her, “Hi, Beth.”
She bit her lip, looking contrite as she smiled, saying softly, “Thank you, Harry. You were right. I did need help. I didn’t mean to, you know, to get intimate like that, without.... Well, it was wrong of me..."
“You don't have to apologize. I wanted it, too.”, he replied tenderly, “Remember, I fixed my teeth and waited for you, just to see if we could.”
“But I know I hurt you, and... ....I’m sorry.”
Harry took her into a warm embrace, still smiling and looking relieved, “It’s okay. Nobody’s to blame. We gave it a shot and sometimes things like that just don’t work out. I’m just happy that you got help for the drinking and the pills. You’re better. Just stay that way, please?”
She nodded, “I will, and I meant what I said. You really did help me a lot.”
“I know.”
He kissed her gently on the cheek. They both knew they wouldn’t go down that road that again. The guys had set up the food on the kitchen counter readily digging into some of it and opening up the alcohol. Beth got some orange juice from the fridge.
“Levertov and Wexler send their best.”, said Matt.
“So does Benny.”, added Mike.
She paused at bringing out glasses, looking pensive.
“He stayed in New York?”
“Yeah, he said he didn’t have the money. But he’ll call you later, said he would. Now you have to show us the games. I want to know your thinking. Let’s start at the beginning with Laev.”
Oddly, she felt disappointed, but said nothing. Harry went and got her chessboard, setting it up on the counter next to the food. They ate and drank as he set up the pieces. Then they spent the rest of the evening going through games. They had barely gotten to the Luchenko game when Beth had to call it an evening. It was after midnight. The guys wrapped things up. They would get together with her another night to do the rest of the games. Harry was the last to leave and she gently grabbed his arm again.
“Harry, really, was Benny all right? I mean....”
Harry nodded thoughtfully, “I know he was pissed at you, but he was also adamant you needed a second. That’s what brought him around. I think everything will be fine between you two now.”
“When he wanted me to come back to New York, it was just.......I was so, you know, messed up. I just couldn’t do it. I had to be by myself, and I thought he didn’t want to see me again.”
“Beth.”, he said, looking drollful, “He led the charge to make all of us your seconds.”
She nodded, “I know. Townes told me. I still can’t believe he did that."
“If it’ll help, you know the guys and I will always be there for you, right? As for Benny, well, he’ll call.”
“Really? So.... do you still think I'm Paul Morphy, then?"
He nodded, smiling wider, "Morphy didn't have someone like Benny helping him out, though, or us. We're here to help you, okay?"
She smiled back at him, feeling a little more relieved, then kissed him on the cheek, saying "Thank you". He said “bye” and went out the front door. She slowly closed it behind him, feeling better. In the kitchen, she cleaned up the leftover mess and put the chess board back on the coffee table. She was glad Harry and she were still friends, thinking she really made a mess of that, and he still forgave her for it.
Benny was a different matter entirely. She remembered that disastrous night in Paris, going through the drunken binge with Cleo. Cleo came straight out and asked if she liked fucking Benny. She had answered, “sometimes.” She did like fucking Benny, sort of. He was able to make her have an orgasm occasionally, but the way they interacted was sort of wooden and unfeeling. She was hesitant and leary as he approached her and she didn't respond very emotionally to him. He seemed to pick up on that, and didn't like it that much either. At least it seemed that way to her. It pissed her off, but it also appeared to be what he wanted. He would just go to sleep afterward, unless he wanted to talk about chess, which simply ruined the night for her. If that was what making love was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it any more. It was more trouble than it was worth.
She was in love with Townes, and that was not going to go anywhere. She did have feelings for Benny, but it was more like she was fond of him, and as far as Benny was concerned, Cleo was right in that his first love was himself. She saw that. But something changed after Paris. He was so insistent on her coming back to New York. After she got home, they would talk on the phone a lot, helping her to prepare for Moscow, advising her on what to do. He kept asking her to come to New York. She begged off, saying that she really needed to stay and take care of the house and other things. Then he said he missed her. She just didn’t know how to answer that. She didn't understand exactly what he wanted.
She thought again about the way she treated both Benny and Harry, and she felt hurt. Did she do something wrong after all? It made her agitated, and before she knew it she went upstairs and took two of the pills. She swore she wasn’t going to do it. She didn’t need them anymore. But she still took them. There was still a few bottles of wine from when the boys came over. She opened one up and started chugging it, then went up to bed. Her thinking got cloudy enough she could see the board on the ceiling. She played the games from the Invitational which soothed her anxiety and anger.
She was on her third bottle when there was an impatient knocking on the door. Annoyed, she looked at the clock. It was 2:53 in the morning. Did the guys come back? What if it was a reporter? If it was, he was about to get an earful. The knocking picked up again. Now irate, she got up, put her robe on, and went downstairs. She was careful not to slip. The knocking started up yet again and she got angry, muttering, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
She opened the door and said impatiently, “Damnit! What do you guys want now―?”
Benny was leaning against the door jamb on his arm, looking down at the floor. Still in his leather hat and jeans wearing his ever present leather coat, his eyes came up to hers looking askance as he seemed to pout.
“Benny!?”, she cried, “I... ....I thought you were going to call!”
He sighed, compressing his lips into a line, “Yeah, well, this is me calling. I had to get in a couple of poker games to get the money to come out. I would have waited until morning, but your bedroom light was on, so I figured you were awake."
She stared at him, eyes wide, “Benny, I’m―”
“You’re drunk again.”
She blinked and gawked at him, then realized she was still holding the wine bottle. It made her angry.
“Fuck you, Benny! If you don’t like it, go back to New York!”
“Beth, don’t...”
“Don’t what? You don’t have any right to show up at three in the morning and judge me!”
She tried to shut the door, but he stopped it as she walked away from it, trudging upstairs. He followed, closing the door behind him.
“I’m not judging you. I told you if you wanted to get drunk, that’s fine. It’s better if you do it when I’m around.”
“I don’t care! It’s still none of your goddamn business!”
She went into her bedroom and slammed the door shut, but he ignored it, opening the door and walking through.
“Goddamn it, Benny! This is my bedroom! Get out!”
“Not going to happen. Do you have any more wine?”.
“Why?”
“In case you need more. I’ll go get it for you. Look, if you need to get bombed, go ahead. I just want to be here to keep you safe. That’s all.”
She glared at him.
“Fine! Downstairs, in the cabinet above the sink.”, she muttered.
“Okay. When you finish that one, I’ll go get more.”
Beth just shook her head, grumbling, removed her dressing robe and then climbed back into bed. She lay propped up on the head board, and kept taking swigs from the wine bottle. She didn’t quite finish it before she passed out.