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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Beth’s house isn’t like anything Benny imagined.  Yet, he knows from the moment he steps into the foyer that it is without argument her.  From the abstract artwork to the trophies lined up on top of the baby grand piano.  She seems nervous, which now explains her uncharacteristic chatter for the last ten minutes of their drive.   

She doesn’t offer to show him around the house, and there’s something that he likes about that.  He isn’t just a guest who needs to be shown the bathroom and where to put his coat.  He’ll be there long enough to figure all of that out on his own.

They both are tired after the flight back from Chicago, but Beth insists on cooking him dinner.  Something that he finds mildly alarming considering they lived together for several weeks and he’d only seen her hard-boil an egg with varying success.

She takes out a worn copy of The Joy of Cooking from one of the cabinets and leafs through it while he drinks iced tea at the kitchen table.  

“What about beef stroganoff?” she asks, still leafing through the large volume.  

“Are you sure you want to cook?  I’m sure you’re beat from the travel.  Or, at least I am.”

“I don’t mind,” she says, still looking down at the book.  But then she looks up at him, eyes warm, and says, “You came all the way here for me.  I want to do something special.”

Beth's words affect him more than he expects.  Over the years of national, and even international, recognition, Benny was not a stranger to people doing things for him.  But, it was always because of what he achieved.  This is different.

"Beef stroganoff sounds great.”

“I’ll need to go to the store.  You can come with or stay here."

“I’ll come with,” he says, standing up and stretching his neck until he feels the delicious crack.  Beth is already off to grab her coat and purse, and he goes to follow her.  He pauses in the hallway, looking at a small framed photograph set on a lone end table.  He recognizes a young Beth, with her bob and blunt bangs.  She's unsmiling with her hand on the shoulder of an older male who appears to be just as unenthused as her.

“Are you ready to go?” Beth says, suddenly next to him.  She's put on a white and pink checkered coat that somehow makes her red hair even brighter. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Later that evening, Beth attempts beef stroganoff and within the first fifteen minutes, manages to set off her fire alarm.  The charred mushrooms are like glue on the pan, leaving a burnt trail on the pan in the wake of Beth’s spatula.  Benny opens up the door of her bubble-gum pink refrigerator and pulls out a carton of eggs.

“For the sake of the fire department, I think I should take over here,” he says.

“I don’t like being bad at things,” she says, loudly tossing the pan into the kitchen sink.

He smirks.  “I know you don’t.  But cooking, much like chess, can be learned.  Come here, I’ll show you.”

He finds a clean pan in the bottom drawer of her oven and he makes them each an omelet, showing her how to flip the omelet and garnish it with a handful of sharp cheddar that he found in the back of her refrigerator.  She makes them each one piece of toast, swearing when she burns the first batch, but the second batch is perfect.

They eat together at the kitchen table and conversation invariably turns to chess, as it typically does with them, but then it shifts and turns again, like the sorts of conversations he always used to imagine regular well-adjusted people having.  The sorts of conversation he never had, because spending your childhood at chess tournaments didn’t result in the most well-adjusted people, as much as he tried to play the part.  But, here they are.  Almost acting like normal people.  And maybe, together, they are just that.

Beth wipes at her mouth with her napkin and says, “Benny, this might be the best omelet I’ve had.”

“Thank you.”

She glances back at the kitchen sink, which still held the evidence of her culinary-failure, and he says, “You’re going to make beef stroganoff every night until you get it right, aren’t you?”

She looks back at him.  “Yes, I am.”

He picks up his plate and takes it over to the sink, kissing the top of her head as he passes.  “We better make sure we have enough eggs.”

Chapter Text

A few weeks into Benny and Beth’s new normal, she brings up having him come and help coach the high school team with her.  He agrees to go to one practice, but by the time the Tuesday night practice comes, they are in their first big fight post-Russia.  Benny was getting anxious about being away from New York for so long and Beth couldn’t understand why, asking him how he could possibly prefer his glorified bomb shelter over Kentucky.  Her back was turned to him when she said it and she missed the flash of hurt on his face.  By the time she turned around he had already recovered, gaining some anger in the interim, and shot back, “I can’t just stay here and play boyfriend.  Not everyone can rest on their laurels, Beth.”

           She was pissed, and when he thought back on it all, rightfully so, but he was too stubborn to back down.  She squared her shoulders and said, “Fine, then go back to New York.  I don’t need you here.”

           “Fine.  I don’t need you either."

  They both were lying, but neither was willing to call the other’s bluff.  That night, Benny slept on the couch and was considering leaving, but he was supposed to meet her team the next day and he didn’t want to disappoint the students.  If he told Cleo this, she would have reminded him that he never cared about students before, so maybe it wasn’t really them he didn’t want to disappoint.  But, Cleo wasn’t there so he kept with his story.

           The next morning, Benny considers apologizing but then she meets him with an icy good morning and his sour mood returns to match hers.  Yeah, he had been a jerk but she wasn’t blameless, either.  New York meant something to him and the fact that she couldn’t see that bothered him.  Besides stiff exchanges during the day, Benny largely ignores his housemate until she steps in front of him, clad in a white coat of hers that was always his favorite, and says, “We should go now.”

           Beth drives them out to the high school, trying to ignore the way Benny fidgets beside her in the car.  He keeps changing the radio station.  Adjusting the heat.  Finally, when he is so distracting she nearly rolls through a stop light, she smacks his hand and says, “Stop it.”

           “It’s 20 degrees in here.”

           “Yeah, well, maybe if you stop messing around with the heater it can actually do its job.”

           He doesn’t say anything, but his hands stay on his lap for the remainder of the drive.  Beth parks the car, briefly checking her makeup in the rearview mirror before stepping out and closing the door behind her.  Benny follows, feeling like a reluctant shadow as they walk through the school.  Before they get to the room, she stops abruptly and turns to him.

           “I know you’re pissed at me, but please don’t take it out on them.  They’re good kids.”

           Benny’s surprised because Beth never struck him as someone who would have particular interest in the younger generation, but he can tell that her request is genuine.

           “Okay,” he says with a nod.

           Beth closes the distance between them and the room, peeling off her gloves and stuffing them into her pocket.  The group of kids had been talking raucously, but they go quiet when Beth and Benny walk into the room.  Having spent time with them before, Beth knows this is more due to Benny, than her.  She may be a grandmaster, but Benny is still the rock star.

           They go over some planned openings for the day, and then the kids start playing, Benny and Beth walking around the room and commenting on the play.  At one point, Beth looks over at Benny.  He is crouched down next to a pair of students, emphatically pointing to the board while the two students listen in rapture.  Benny feels her gaze and looks up, but she had already looked away.

           At the close of practice, one of the girls raises her hand and says, “Ms. Harmon, we were all sort of hoping we could see you and Mr. Watts play part of a game?”

           “You were?”

           The entire class nods enthusiastically and Beth looks over at Benny, who shrugs.  One of the nearby pairs gives up their table and Beth sits down, watching as Benny does the same and then picks up two chess pieces, enclosing them in his palms under the table and then raising his hands.  Beth points at his left hand and he holds her gaze as he opens his palm.

           A white queen.

           She takes the piece and quickly sets up her half of the board while Benny does the same.  He reaches over and starts her clock.  Beth doesn’t hesitate before opening with the Sicilian Defense.  She starts his clock.  Benny smiles slightly before making his next move with equaled precision.  They know this dance well, and they play it through until she moves a rook unexpectedly. He leans forward surveying the board, his eyes darting across the 64 squares.  After a moment, he glides his pawn across the board and she makes her next move without hesitation.  It goes on much like this for the next thirty minutes and Beth feels her heart ache. If only it was this easy outside of the game.

           They hadn’t intended on playing out the entire game, but one move bleeds into the next, and not a single student moves. They’re in the endgame now, and Beth is disconcerted to see that Benny has a clear path to victory and she doesn’t have many options.  She moves her bishop and he looks up at her, his eyes stuck on her like a broken record. After a moment, he looks back down at the board and deftly moves his rook to E4. 

It’s the wrong move.  He had to have known that, and when she glances over at him, she can clearly see that he does.  She stares at him with confusion.  Benny Watts did not throw games. Even games as inconsequential as this, and as the significance of the gesture settles she is so struck that she almost begins to cry.

           “We should call it a night,” Beth says, furtively wiping at her nose.

           There is a chorus of displeasure, and one of the better players says, “But you’re only six moves from check-mate!”  

           “I will see you all next week,” Beth says, standing up.  One of the students asks if Benny came come back then, and Beth looks over at him as he says, “I think that can be arranged.”

           The students are ecstatic and they pepper Benny with questions as she pulls on her coat.  They leave together and when they get to her car, she walks around the hood to him and wraps her arms around waist.    

           “I’m really sorry about what I said,” he murmurs against her hair.

           “Me too.  I understand if you want to go back to New York.  But, this is my home.”

           “I know,” he says, closing his eyes as she presses her face into the crook of his neck.  “We’ll figure it out.”

           Someone laughs near them, the sort of laugh that tries to be smothered against a hand but fails, and Beth pulls away, noticing a group of students watching them.

           “I have a feeling they’re going to have different questions next week,” Benny says.

Chapter Text

Beth didn’t think often of her birth-father.  From all of her memories, his role in her life seemed limited to her conception, and nothing else.  The few times he appeared, the situation had always been fraught and imbued with complications that her young brain couldn’t yet comprehend.  She could still remember watching him from the window of the trailer when she was just a girl and when their eyes met she felt nothing.   

            When the woman knocks on her door, Beth hadn’t thought of her father in well over a year.  Which is why she finds herself confused when the woman, whose name is Ann, tells her, “Your father is dead.”

            She almost needs to remind herself that she wasn’t just sprung from Metheun’s sterile halls and that she did, in fact, have a family before.  An absent father.  A suicidal mother.  She can picture it.  All she has to do is close her eyes, just like her mother said before the car rammed into the side-railing, metal crumpling like tin foil.

            “Dear, are you okay?”  Ann asks, and Beth realizes that she hadn’t said anything in response.

            “How did it happen?” she asks.  It’s difficult to form words, like trying to push a quarter through a gummy slot.  

            “A heart attack, I’m afraid.”  She can see Ann’s eyes tear up.  “It’s so sad.  None of us saw it coming.”

            Beth wonders who exactly she is speaking to, and she slowly asks, “Were you his…”

            “Wife?  No. I’m his sister.  I suppose that makes me your aunt.”  Beth just stares at her.  “Anyway, I figured you may want to come to the wake.  I know it would mean a lot to Robert.  He always did regret how things happened with you and your mother.”

            Beth wonders what exact things her apparent aunt is referring to, as there seemed to be a rather large selection, but she only nods, watching the woman rifle through her purse before she pulls out a small folded piece of paper.

            “The address of the funeral home is on here. The wake is on Saturday.”

            Beth takes the piece of paper and opens it up. The handwriting is clear and neat. Beth doesn’t know what to say, so she says that, and Ann blinks rapidly before she says, “Thank you, dear. Anyway…” she hesitates before reaching forward and hugging Beth, who remains stiff in her arms.  Ann pulls away after only a moment and says, “It’s a shame to meet under such circumstances, but I am so very happy that we did.”

            Beth nods blankly.  “Sure.”

            “I hope to see you Saturday.”

            That evening, Beth tells Benny about what happened over dinner.   He looks up from his plate with surprise and asks, “Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine,” she says flatly.  “It’s not like he was actually a father to me.”

            “Well, yeah, but he still was your dad,” Benny returns slowly.  “That has to mean something, right?”

            “Not really.  He didn’t do any of the things a dad does.  All he did was leave.”  She pushes her peas around her plate.  “Do you know my mom actually tried to give me to him?  It was just before…” she trails off, dropping her fork loudly onto the table. “Anyway, he’s dead.  Life goes on.”

            Benny watches her warily.  Even with her history, this isn’t exactly a normal reaction to finding out one of your parents died, and he chooses his words carefully before he asks, “So, I take it that means you’re not going to his wake?”

            “What would be the point?”

            “I think some closure could be good,” Benny offers.  “Besides, your aunt sounded nice.”

            “She wore too much perfume.”

            “Beth, I think you’ll regret not going.”

            “I’ll get over it.”

            “Beth-“

            “I’m not going,” she says firmly.  “He had over 10 years to reach out.  It’s not like he couldn’t find me.  I was on the fucking cover of Life Magazine.  He chose to keep me out of his life.  And now, I’m choosing to do the same.”

            She stands abruptly and grabs her plate, dropping it loudly into the sink along with the scraps of pork and leftover peas. She stays there, hands planted on the edge of the sink and shoulders hunched.  He knows she’s hurting, even if she won’t say so, but that’s okay.  He doesn’t need verbal confirmation to walk over to her and slide his arms around her waist.  She leans back into him instinctively and then covers his arms with hers.  They stay that way for a while, neither talking.  He can feel her relax in his arms, the tension leaving her shoulders and neck.  She turns her face toward him and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.

            “I’m okay,” she murmurs.  “I promise.”

            Except that night, after Benny is already asleep, she walks over to her bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet, her fingers pushing away various bottles until she finds what she’s looking for.  The bottle is addressed to Alma Wheatley.

             The next morning, Beth wakes up with a dull and familiar headache, and she stretches, noticing that her hand finds air where she expected to find Benny.  She faintly smells bacon, and when she goes downstairs he is making them breakfast.   He doesn’t mention her father and they enjoy a lazy day, going over chess openings well into dinnertime.  She cooks beef stroganoff, which had become a weekly staple after she mastered the recipe.  She doesn’t even use the cookbook anymore, cooking from memory.  When she goes to sleep, she thinks about how it had been a nice day, but then she is back in the window of the trailer, watching her father pause at the door of his car.  She takes another green pill.

            By the time Saturday comes around, she has convinced herself to go to the wake.  It would be an exorcism of sort.  With this final gesture, she will be good and rid of Robert Harmon.  She asks Benny to go with her and he immediately agrees.  He doesn’t ask her what changed her mind, and while she hasn’t told him that she loves him yet, when she does, she’ll think of this moment.  How he knows when to push and when to just follow.

            He drives her out to the funeral home.  It’s a good forty-minute drive and halfway there, it starts raining.  Beth thinks it is only fitting for there to be rain at a wake.  The parking lot is full when they get there, except for some spots in the back, and Benny offers to drop her off at the front but she shakes her head.  She can’t imagine being in there alone.  They park the car and after a thorough search of the backseat confirms that no, they do not have an umbrella, they dart toward the funeral home with Benny’s jacket pulled up over his head and Beth holding her purse over hers.  The rain comes down in thick sheets and they both are soaked by the time they get inside.  Beth’s black dress clings to her and her wet hair hangs in clumped ringlets at the front of her face.  She suddenly has a vision of standing in a bathtub in Paris in a similar state.  

            Beth can feel people watching her, and she hears someone say with dawning realization, “It’s that chess prodigy.  I think that’s his daughter with her.”

            Beth is frozen in place until Benny leans in and says, “I’m a little offended they only recognize you.  Technically, I was a chess prodigy first.”

            Her shoulders immediately slacken and she looks over at him, pushing a wet chunk of hair away from his forehead. 

            “Beth, darling!”

            A woman is suddenly hugging her, the sweetness of her perfume making Beth cough.

            “Hi Ann.”

            “I am so glad to see you here,” she says. Beth doesn’t respond, and Ann looks over at Benny.  After a pause, Beth’s manners kick in and she says, “Ann, this is Benny Watts.”  A beat later she adds, “My boyfriend.”

            Benny looks over at her with a slight grin. She hadn’t called him that before, but by this point it almost feels like a given.  Benny shakes Ann’s hand and says, “It’s great to meet you.  Sorry about our appearances.  We got caught in some rain.”

            “It’s horrible out there, isn’t it?”

            Benny and Ann continue to good-naturedly discuss the weather, or rather Anncontinues to do this and Benny nods along, but Beth’s attention is elsewhere. She can see the coffin set in the back of the room.  It’s open and she can just catch the folded stillness of his hands.  She wanders off without saying goodbye, and she can feel Benny’s gaze on her as she slowly weaves through the crowd, her steps invariably taking her to her father.  There is a knee-rest in front of the coffin and after nearly six years at Meuthen, her body instinctually knows what to do.  She kneels, gazing inquisitively down at her father’s face. 

            He looks older, but in most ways, is indistinguishable from the man she remembers. She hears whispers behind her and when she glances over her shoulder a group of women quickly look away.  Beth looks back at her father.  His skin is waxy, his cheeks an unnatural shade of pink.

            “You should have known me,” she whispers.  “I was worth knowing.”

            She silently says the Lord’s Prayer – whether it was for her father or her, she wasn’t sure – and then she stands up and walks to the side.  Benny is already waiting for her, and she takes a hold of his hand and says, “We can go.”

            He studies her face before he says, “Okay.”

            That night in bed, Benny casually says, “You called me your boyfriend before.”

            They’re wrapped up in her sheets and nothing else, and she’s in the part of the post-coital glow where her senses are just a bit dulled, and she murmurs, “Yes, I did.”  After a pause she asks, “That’s okay, right?”

            He grins and kisses her.  “Yeah, it’s okay.  It’s more than okay.  Beth…” he gets this sort of warm look on his face that makes Beth nervous, and he says, “Beth, I love you.”

            She doesn’t know what to say.  Her only experience with love was a man who shared a room with someone named Roger, and she’s hesitant to say it before she’s certain. She doesn’t know how long she was quiet, and she expects him to be mad, but instead he tells her, “You don’t have to say it back.”

            “I don’t?” she asks with surprise.

            “I mean, I’d like that.  But, that’s not why I said it.”

            “Why did you say it?” she asks curiously.

            He pauses before he says, “Because true things should be said.”

            She considers that, Benny lazily running a finger along her side, and then sits up, swinging her legs over the bed and grabbing her robe.  Benny watches her walk over to the bathroom and then back.  She puts the pill bottle between them.

             “I’ve been taking one of these every night since I found out about my dad.”

            Benny knew about the alcohol – hell, most of the chess community knew about the alcohol – but she hadn’t told many people about the pills.  Benny turns the pill bottle over in his hand and says, “These aren’t yours.”

            “They were my mother’s.  I used to skim some off the top.  She always used to ask me why they only filled the bottles halfway.”

            For some reason, this is an amusing memory for Beth, but she sobers at the look on his face.  “I first took them at Metheun.  They called them vitamins there.”

            “Fuck,” Benny breathes out.

            “The government made it against the law about a year after I got there.  But it didn’t stop me from trying to get them.  I broke into the pharmacy and swallowed an entire fistful of pills.  I had to get my stomach pumped.”

            “Why are you telling me this?”

            She tries to hold his gaze, but fails. “Because true things should be said. And you should know the person you love.”

            “Do you think this will change my mind?”

            She doesn’t know.  In a way, it’s hard for her to imagine any man loving her, because so many in her life hadn’t.  But she doesn’t want to fight with him.  She reaches for the bottle, but he covers her hand with his.

            “Beth-“

            “Let’s just forget about it,” she says.  She wants to go back to how they were before she went and threw in a pill bottle.  “Please.”

            “Beth, listen to me,” he says.  “I know you’re not perfect.  I knew that a long time ago, but I don’t care.  I love you, anyway.”

            “I can’t sleep without the pills.”

            “Then I’ll help you,” he says.  “I’ll recite Elfin Gemmer games to you until you sleep. I know how boring you find them.”

            Beth’s heart swells, and while she doesn’t know if she loves him yet, she does know that there is no one else she’d rather be with. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Flush them down the toilet.”

            “Are you sure?”

            She nods.

            He gets out of bed, taking the pill bottle with him, and she hears the toilet flush before he returns to bed.  She curls against him, resting her head on his chest, and she murmurs, “Benny, can you say it again?”

            “Say what again?”

            “You know what.”

            He clears his throat and begins with, “The year is 1963.  Elfin Gemmer-“  She hits his chest and he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  “I love you, Beth.” 

Chapter Text

Beth is half asleep when the phone rings on her nightstand.  She just bought a phone for the bedroom a few weeks ago, and since then, she seemed to get twice as many calls.  Benny groans, covering his eyes with his hand, and says, “You know, we got a lot less calls before you brought a phone in here.”

            “Please spare me your bedrooms are not for phones lecture,” Beth says, nudging his arm affectionately before she reaches over him and grabs the phone.  Draped over his torso, Beth answers the phone, shooting him a playful look when he pinches her side.

            “Hello?”

            “Beth, I need you to do me a favor.”

            “Jolene,” Beth says happily, picking up the phone cradle and sitting back on her side of the bed.  Benny nudges the cord behind his pillow and then proceeds to close his eyes again.  “What do you need?”

            “A witness for my wedding.”

            “Your wedding is next month,” Beth says, not understanding.  Jolene's married lawyer kept his word and left his wife for her, and they were supposed to get married at the end of the next month.  

            “Well, it was next month, but now it’s this afternoon,” Jolene says.  “Rick's family isn’t too keen on him marrying a black woman. Like I’m not the best thing to happen to the man.”

            “Of course, you are,” Beth says.  Jolene had always been the best of people, even when Beth hadn’t really understood what that meant.

            “So, we’re saying fuck ‘em, and just doing the justice of the peace route.”

            “What time do you need me?”  Beth asks immediately.

  “We’re meeting at the courthouse at noon.”

            “I’ll be there.”

            Beth hangs up the phone and asks Benny, “Do you want to go to a courthouse wedding?”

            Benny opens one eye.  “What exactly are you asking me?”

            “My friend Jolene is getting married this afternoon and I’m going to be her witness.”

            “I thought she was getting married next month.”

            “Change of plans,” Beth says simply, climbing out of bed.  She walks over to her closet and starts going through her dresses.  “I don’t know what to wear to a courthouse wedding.”

            “I’d say the rule is probably still no white.”

            “I know that,” she says, already combing through the various hangers with military-like precision.  Something occurs to her, and she looks back at Benny.  “You don’t have a suit.”

            “So what?”  He’s lying in bed with his arms crossed behind his head, and he looks so positively cute that she almost forgets all about the afternoon and climbs back into bed with him, but she can’t have that.  This is Jolene and she knows her friend is already not getting the wedding she had originally wanted.  Benny is getting a suit.

            “Ben Snyders opens at 9.  We’ll find you something there.”

            “I don’t need a suit.  I have my black coat.  That’s good enough.”

            “You shouldn’t even have that black coat anymore,” she tosses over her shoulder, attention back to her closet.

            “Stay away from my coat, Beth.  You already made me throw away the hat.”

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

            “It is.”

            “I promise to not touch your coat,” she says, turning back around.  “But, you need a suit.”

            He studies her face for a moment and then says, “This is important to you, isn’t it.”

            It’s not a question, but a statement, and she nods.

            “Okay,” he says.  “I’ll get a suit.”

            At 11:45 a.m., Beth and Benny stand outside of the courthouse waiting for the bride and groom.  Beth turns to Benny and smooths down the collar of his suit jacket, smiling to herself.

            “You could try to look less smug,” Benny teases.

            “I just think you look very handsome.”

            “And you look beautiful.”

            Beth isn’t typically a fan of public displays of affection, but she leans in and kisses him softly, lingering with her mouth against his until she hears Jolene call her name.  She pulls away and turns toward her friend’s voice, surprise registering on her face when she sees the pair.  Rick is dressed in a traditional black suit.  Beside him, Jolene is wearing a deep red silk jumpsuit.

            “Aren’t brides supposed to wear white?”  Beth asks with confusion.

            “That’s what they want you to think.”

            “Who’s they?”  Benny asks.

            “The patriarchy.  The white is supposed to be about the bride’s virginity or some shit like that.  And, I’m no virgin.  So, I thought I’d just dress for me.  And Rick. This is his favorite outfit of mine.”

            “It really is,” Rick echoes, and when he looks at Jolene, Beth can see that he’s telling the truth.  Jolene softens in a way that Beth hadn’t seen before, and then Jolene looks over at Benny and says to Beth, “So, you finally threw one of those chess boys a bone?”

            Beth grins.  “This is Benny.”

            “I know who he is,” Jolene says.  “I read about you, Benny Watts.  You’re almost as impressive as my girl, Beth.”

            Beth knows that Benny can be sensitive to the comparison, and she says, “Jolene’s biased.”

            To her surprise, Benny shakes his head and says, “No, I’m pretty sure she’s right.”

            Beth meets his gaze and she can feel her cheeks flush.  Jolene grins wide.  “I like you, Benny.”

            Beth didn’t have many courthouse weddings with which to compare Jolene and Rick's, but if she had to guess, their wedding easily ranked in the top-five.  Both the bride and groom prepared their own vows, and Beth noticed even Benny looking somewhat emotional as Jolene read from her folded up piece of notebook paper, her hands shaking.  The union was sealed with a kiss, and then they went to a nearby diner to celebrate. They all order burgers and drinks, and when Benny looks appraisingly at her chocolate shake, she wordlessly trades her shake for his green river, and then tells him, “This means you can’t complain when I eat your fries.”

            “I think that’s a fair trade.”

            Beth does, in fact, eat a good portion of fries, and after the plates are cleared, Jolene pointedly asks, “So, when are you two walking down the aisle?”

            Beth chokes on her drink and Benny says, “I can’t really say we’ve thought about it.”

            “You do want to get married someday, don’t you?”

            Beth is almost afraid to look at Benny, but then he says, “Sure, if it was the right person.”  He stands up, putting his napkin on his seat, and says, “I’m going to head to the bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”

            “I’ll come with you,” Rick says.

            When they are out of earshot, Jolene says, “You do realize he was talking about you, right?”

            “You don’t know that.”

            “That boy is in love with you.”

            Beth smiles slightly, but then it dims when she thinks about how she still hasn’t been able to say it back.  Jolene reads into her silence and says, “I know it can scary.  Being loved like that.  I felt the same way with Rick.  We’re not used to it.”

            “It’s not that,” Beth says.  “I haven’t been able to say it back.”

            Beth expected some tough advice from her friend, but instead she says, “You’ll say it in your own time.   Something tells me that boy will wait.”

            When they say goodbye, Beth gives Jolene a tight hug, feeling uncharacteristically emotional.  Jolene kisses her cheek and says, “Thank you for being here, today.”

            “Of course.  We’re family, right?”

            Jolene nods, and Beth notices that her eyes are glassy, too.  “Damn right, we are.”

            While Rick gives Beth an awkward half-hug, Jolene wraps her arms around Benny and murmurs, “You hurt her, I hurt you. Butter knife straight to the balls.”

            Benny pulls away, somewhat startled, and says, “That is a very specific threat.”

            “A vague threat does no one any good.”  Just as swiftly as the threat came, Jolene grins beatifically.  “Thank you for coming to my wedding.”

            He walks over to Beth, and as they head back to her car, he says, “So, that was Jolene.”

            “That’s Jolene.”

            “She’s kind of intimidating.”

            Beth looks over at him and says, “She threatened you, didn’t she?”

            “Yes.  And in a very graphic manner.  I’m about as impressed as I am intimidated.”

            Beth grins.  “Sounds just about right.”

Chapter Text

Beth walks over to her bedroom, balancing a bowl of soup, dry toast and a steaming mug of tea on a wooden tray.  She nudges the door open with her foot and Benny turns his head toward her, groaning at the sight of the food.

            “I don’t want that.”

            “You know, you are very dramatic when you’re sick.”

            “I still don’t want that food.”

            “Well, too bad.  You’re having it, anyway.  You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

            “That is by design.  See, if I don’t eat anything I can’t puke it up.”

            “That is very dumb,” Beth says, standing beside him. “Now sit up.”

            “Beth.”

            “Benny.”

            He glares at her, but sits up, keeping a steely silence as she puts the tray on his lap.  She climbs into the bed next to him and picks up the piece of toast.  “One bite.”

            “I don’t need you to feed me like some invalid.” He grabs the piece of toast and takes a large bite.  Through a full mouth he asks, “Are you happy?

            “No.   You haven’t swallowed any of it yet.”

            Benny rolls his eyes and while he swallows Beth takes a quick sip of his tea to make sure that it’s not too hot.  It’s not, and she puts it in front of his face.

            “Wash it down with this.”

            Benny reluctantly takes a sip and puts the mug back on the tray.  He looks over at her and says, “You shouldn’t be here.  You’ll just get sick.”

            “I’ll be fine.  Take another bite of toast.”

            “I just had a bite.”

            “Yes, that’s why I said another.”

            “You know, you’re not a very comforting person to be around right now.”

            “My role is not comfort.  My role is to help you get better.” 

            Benny scoffs when she covers his forehead with her hand.  

            “You’re still warm.  Maybe we should call the doctor.”       

            “I don’t believe in doctors.”

            It’s just about the stupidest things she’s heard, and she tells him as much.

            “How do you not believe in doctors?”

            “They’re overpriced quacks,” Benny says. 

            “You do you realize how ridiculous you sound right now, don’t you?”  Beth asks.

            Benny slumps lower into the bed, nearly knocking over the tray, and says, “I’m sick.  Be nice to me.”

            She goes to say something, but then she notices a shift in his face, and suddenly she’s grabbing at the tray right before he scrambles out of bed and to the bathroom.  She hears what’s happening before she sees it, and she stands in the doorway for a moment before crouching next to him, her hand running up and down his back.  Benny rocks back onto his heels.

            “Remember how I said I didn’t want to eat anything?”

            “I’m sorry.”

            He gives her knee an affectionate squeeze.  “It’s okay.  I know you were only trying to help.”

            He stands up shakily, Beth holding onto his arm, and he washes his mouth out in the sink before going back to bed.  Beth immediately takes the tray and walks it back down to the kitchen, feeling foolish for trying to make him eat.  When she returns to her bedroom, Benny is on his side, his breathing slow and steady.  She sits next to him and grabs a book from her nightstand, flipping open to where she left off.

            “You know you don’t have to stay here with me,” he says.  He sounds tired, his voice muffled against the pillow.

            “I know.  I want to.”

            He reaches a hand out toward her and she smiles slightly before taking it.  She doesn’t let go, even when she has to ineffectually turn pages with one hand.  Benny falls into a fitful sleep and she continues to read until he wakes up an hour or so later.  He looks down at their intertwined hands and asks, "Have you been holding my hand this entire time?"

"Yes."

"How'd you turn the pages in your book?"

"With my other hand.  How are you feeling?"

He considers it for a moment and says, "Better."

Beth puts her hand to his forehead again.  "You feel cool."

"I'm always cool," Benny says weakly.

"Sure, you are," she says with a goading grin.  She pushes his hair away from his forehead, letting her fingers linger.  Gazing down at him, she has that feeling again.  She's been having it a lot lately.  Pretty much every time they're together.  Love.  She feels it, or at least she thinks she does, but she's still not ready to say it.  Part of her wonders if she ever will be.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"Nothing much."

"You have that look.  Like when you're working through a chess move."

"It's nothing," she repeats, softening her tone with her palm pressed against his.  "I promise."

Chapter Text

For all their weeks in Kentucky, Benny and Beth hadn’t discussed returning to New York besides the tense conversations before he visited her high school chess students.  After that, the conversation seemed to be tabled and Beth had been reluctant to bring it up, not wanting to push them into choppy waters, and also, somewhat selfishly, not wanting him to leave.  Part of her was always afraid that if they went back to New York, he would never come back, just like she could never stay.  But one morning, New York is pulled squarely back into focus when Benny says, “I have to go out there for a few days.  I should be back by Monday.”

            “Is everything okay?” she asks gingerly.

            “It’s my mom.  My brother called and said she’s been having some problems recently.  So, I’m going to go down there and try to sort it out.”

            Beth realizes that for all the time she’d known Benny, he hadn’t mentioned his family before.  She wonders then if it was because she never asked, and whether she was supposed to.  She also notices that he didn’t ask her to come with.

            “Okay.”  She hesitates before she asks, “Do you want me to go with you?”

            “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

            His words hurt more than she expected and she crosses her arms over her chest.  “Oh, okay.”

             “It’s not that I don’t want you there.”

            “You sure?  Because it sort of sounds that way.”

            Benny’s face softens and he says, “Beth, you should know by now that there isn’t anywhere that I don’t want you with me.”

            “Then why is my going with you a bad idea?”

            “The reason my brother called is to stage an intervention.  My mom’s an alcoholic.”

            Benny never mentioned this before, not even back during her drinking.  She thinks then of how difficult it must have been to hear what was happening to her. Maybe it was better that he was out in New York then.  She’d seen the haunted look in Harry Beltik’s eyes when he saw her and spoke of his own alcoholic father.

            “I can handle it,” she says.

            “I don’t want to put too much on you.”

            “You couldn’t,” she says.  “You’ve been there for me, Benny.  Time and time again, you have been there for me.  Let me be there for you.”

            “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

            She nods.  “I’ll tell you.  But it won’t be too much.  Let me help you.”

            He takes a long pause before he says, “Okay.” 

            They fly out the next morning and take a cab down to his apartment.  It had been so long since Beth had been there, and if anything, her memory had recalled the place as nicer than it actually was.  She looked at the spot on the floor where the air mattress had been, marveling that she had actually slept on that dank floor for weeks on end.

            “Reminiscing?” Benny asks, palming her waist as he stepped past her.

            “I’m just thinking about how I should have made you take the air mattress.”

            “We both know I wouldn’t have agreed to that.”

            “And now?” she asks.

            “Only if you’re on it with me.”

            “When is your brother meeting us?”

            Benny takes a hold of her wrist and checks the time on her watch.  “He should be here soon.”

            “Are you nervous?”

            Benny shrugs, and she expected some quip about how Benny Watts didn’t do nervous.  Instead, he rakes his fingers through his hair and says, “All we can do is ask her to get help.  Beyond that…”

            “I know.”

            And she does, more than most.  Benny looks at her worriedly.  “Are you sure you’re okay doing this?” 

            The answer is yes, but before she can tell him there’s a knock on the door.  Benny opens the door and greets his brother.  It’s like looking at an abstract painting of Benny.  The similarities are there, but stretched and pulled out of dimension.  She steps forward to say hello, and he grumbles to Benny, “Why is she here?”

            “Don’t start, Cal.”

            “This is a family thing.”

            “Beth is my family,” Benny says in a hard voice.

            Beth feels a certain rush at his words, but its tempered by the boys’ continued bickering.  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for her to come.

            “You really think Mom would want someone other than us to see her right now?”

            “Mom is probably blitzed out of her mind right now. She won’t even remember who saw her.”

            Benny’s wrong.  Even in Beth’s drunkest state, she still remembered the people she saw. The calls she ignored.  Maybe not right away, but they all had a way of creeping back.  Usually in the middle of the night while she stared up at the ceiling, debating whether or not to take a third or fourth green pill.

            “That’s not the point,” Cal says.

            “I can stay here,” Beth offers. 

            “You don’t have to do that,” Benny says, glaring at his brother.  She steps forward and puts her hand on his arm.  “I don’t want to make this more difficult than it has to be.”

            Benny swallows hard and from the conflict in his eyes she can tell that as much as he had tried to give her an out before, he wanted her there.  He needed her.  She squeezes his arm and looks over at Cal.

            “Last year, I was addicted to pills and alcohol. I’m not sure how bad it is with your mom, but I’m pretty sure wherever she is, I was there at some point.  Maybe I can help.”

            Cal holds her gaze before he looks to Benny and says, “I thought all that Freud stuff was bullshit, but you really do end up with your mother, huh?”

            Benny shakes his head and says, “Fuck off, Cal.”

            “She can come.”

            It’s about an hour’s drive out to where Benny and Cal grew up, and the atmosphere can only be described as tense.  The scene in Benny’s apartment clearly demonstrated that he had a complicated relationship with his brother, and during the drive, Beth felt like somewhat of a referee between them.  It was a role that her personality made her particularly ill-equipped to play.  

            Benny parks the car in front of a tidy looing Tudor house.  Thinking of her own past, Beth notes that Benny’s mother at least is well enough to remember to take care of the lawn.  They walk up and Cal pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the front door. The smell hits them immediately.  Sweetness with a sour note at the end.  While the two men recoil, Beth feels a lurch of yearning. 

            “Mom?”  Benny calls out.  “It’s Cal and me.”

            They walk through the house slowly.  The kitchen is messy with dishes piled in the sink. She spots a half-finished bottle of wine, but no wine glasses.  Makes sense, Beth thinks.  At a certain point, the glass just becomes a hindrance to the task at hand.  The living room is in a similar state of disarray. She can feel Benny grow increasingly tense beside her, and it only grows when they find the bedroom empty.  But, Beth knows where to find her.

            “Fuck,” Benny breathes out.  His mother is asleep fully dressed in the bathtub.

            “Why the hell would she be in the bathtub?” Cal says, and his confusion distracts Beth because the choice makes perfect sense to her.  The coolness of the marble against hot skin.  The way you sink into the basin, feeling yourself contained at all four corners as the world spins out of focus.

            Benny strides past her and crouches in front of the bathtub.  He’s all action, which she knows is an ineffective tool against the inertia of drunkenness, but maybe it can work this time.        

“Mom.  Mom, wake up.”

            The older woman stirs, her eyes bleary as she gazes up at her son.  “Benjamin?”

            “Mom, you need to get up,” Cal says forcefully. Everything about him had been forceful since Beth met him.

            “Cool down,” Benny says in a tight voice. “Give her a moment.”

            The woman’s eyes shift to Beth and she says, “Who are you?”

            “I’m Beth.”  After a pause she adds, “It helps to shift to your knees first.”

            “What?”

            “Getting out of the tub.  It’s easier to shift to your knees first.  You have better balance.”

            It takes time for Mrs. Watts to process what Beth said, but then she clumsily leans forward and pulls her knees beneath her. She stands slowly, her sons each taking one arm.  They maneuver her down the stairs with effort and then the talk begins.  You’re hurting yourself.  We’re worried.  You’re out of control.  All of it’s wrong, but of course, they don’t know that.  How could they?  Beth stays mostly out of the conversation, washing the dishes in the sink.  Behind her, Mrs. Watts insists, “I’m fine.  I just had a little too much last night.”

            “Mom, we found you in the bath tub,” Cal says.

            “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

            Beth hears the hardness in her voice and knows that they won’t change her mind today.  But they continue to try, Beth drying the dishes and stacking them quietly next to the sink.  When she’s finished she turns around, her heart breaking when she sees Benny sitting next to his mother.  He pulled the chair close and he’s leaning forward earnestly as he speaks.  Beth places the dishrag on the counter and presses her back against the cool granite.

            “I know what you’re feeling,” she says in a low voice.

            Mrs. Watts looks up at her and smiles unkindly. “Oh, you do?”

            “I do.  Right now, you’re feeling hungover.  But, it’s the other feeling.  The stillness.  The world has so much noise, but after a certain point, everything goes still and all you can hear is the beating of your heart.  But by that point you don’t remember that you can ruin it, so you drink more, and then you create your own sort of noise.  Your heartbeat is too loud.  Everything is too loud.  So, you drink more to drown it out until you either get sick or pass out.  And then you start it again.”

            “Who are you again?” Mrs. Watts asks.  Her voice is so soft that it’s almost a whisper.

            “I’m like you.”

            Ultimately, Mrs. Watts refuses any help and summarily throws her children, and Beth, out of her house.  Cal tries to go back in, but Benny grabs his arm and says, “It’s no use. Today wasn’t the day.”  Beth can see the worry in Cal's eyes, and she thinks then that maybe his forcefulness had just been a way to hide the gnawing fear. 

            “We’ll try again later,” Benny tells his brother.

            Back at the apartment, Benny asks Beth if she would mind having some people over that night. 

"I could use a distraction," he says.

This was one of the things that Beth never understood about Benny. She never felt comfortable in a crowd, but with Benny, it was where he thrived.  She still remembered the first time she saw him, sitting there in his leather duster and hat surrounded by people.

            “I don’t mind,” she says.

            A few hours later, she’s playing simultaneous chess games with Benny, Levetov and Wexler.  Cleo watches from the side, as usual, puffing away at her cigarette. She and Cleo greeted each other as they always did, but Beth felt part of herself withdrawn around her.  Beth didn’t entirely blame Cleo for what happened in Paris, but part of her could not help thinking that if Cleo had never showed up in Paris, she would have won that game.  She isn’t naive enough to think that the drinking wouldn’t have happened at some point, but it wouldn’t have happened then.

            When Beth is finished with the games – she wins them all – she goes into the kitchen to put together something for them to eat. Cleo comes up to her, pressing the smoldering edge of her cigarette into an ashtray on the counter.

            “I always love watching you beat them.”

            Beth doesn’t respond, because she doesn’t know what to say.

            “It’s good to see you,” Cleo says.

            “It’s good to see you, too.”

             “I can’t believe the last time we saw each other was in Paris.  That feels like practically a lifetime ago.”

            Beth nods.  “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

            There is another stretch of silence, and Cleo lights another cigarette.  She takes a long drag, the plume of smoke leaving her mouth like an elongated sigh.

            “I’m sorry that I made you drink in Paris.”

            “You didn’t make me do anything,” Beth says. “I could have stayed in my room. I chose to meet you.”

            “I didn’t know about…” she takes another drag from her cigarette.  “Anyway, Benny was pretty agnry when I told him we met up.  He wouldn’t talk to me for months after that.”

            Beth glances over her shoulder at Benny and sees that he’s watching them.  His eyes are asking her a question and she nods slightly.

            “It’s in the past,” Beth says, turning her attention back to Cleo.  And with that, she feels herself release the resentment she had held since sitting across from Borgov in that gilded room, sweat dotting her hairline.  It truly was in the past, and what did it matter?  She got sober.  She beat Borgov.  It all worked out in the end, even with the detours.

            Cleo grins hesitantly and Beth returns the gesture. 

            “Hey, how’s the food coming along over there?” Wexler calls out.

            “Keep your pants on,” Cleo calls back, eyes sparkling.  “The women are talking right now.”

            Cleo and the boys leave around one in the morning and Beth and Benny play one more game of chess – he wins and she blames it on the hour – and then go to bed.  The next morning, she wakes up to an empty bed.  The apartment is cold and she puts on Benny’s robe, wrapping it tightly around her small frame.  She begins to walk out of the bedroom but stops at the doorway. Benny is at the kitchen table with his back to the bedroom.  She can tell he didn’t hear her wake up because his shoulders are tense.  His movements are short and jerky as he takes a sip of coffee and puts the mug back down on the table.  She walks out and she can tell when he hears her because he rearranges his body, giving her an easy grin. 

            “Morning.”

            “Good morning,” she says, sitting next to him.

            “There’s coffee in the pot.”

            “I don’t need coffee right now.”

            “Okay.”

            His body goes tense again.  “Benny-“

            “I don’t think I can go back to Kentucky right now.”

            She takes a deep breath.  “Okay.”

            “My mom needs help and I can’t put that all on Cal.”

            “I understand.  I can stay here for a few weeks.”

            “I don’t think it will be a few weeks.”  His hand tightens around the mug.  “She’s really bad, Beth. She was never this bad before-“

            He stops himself and she fills in, “Before you came to Kentucky.”

            He nods.  “I checked in more.  I think it helped.”

            “What about Cal?”

            “They never had as close of a relationship.” 

            Beth nods quietly.  “I’ll stay here as long as I can and then we’ll figure it out.”

            “I’m sorry, Beth.”

            “You don’t have to apologize,” Beth says.  She thinks of Alma and how she would have done anything to change what happened in Mexico City.  “She’s your mother.”

            Benny takes her hand and kisses it.  “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with someone like you.”

            “It’s the hair.”

            “I should have tipped my barber more then.”

            “You actually went to a barber?  I always just imagined you in your bathroom with kitchen scissors.”

            He grins and leans in to kiss her.  He stays close, forehead pressed to hers and murmurs, “We’ll get through this.”

            He says it like a statement, but Beth knows him well enough to read the underlying question.  It’s a rare show of vulnerability, and Beth wraps her arms around him, pressing a kiss just under his ear.  “Yes.  We’ll get through this.”

Chapter Text

After a few weeks with Benny, Beth goes back to Kentucky to pay bills and make sure the house is kept after.  She plans to stay for only a few days, a week tops, but then she notices that her refrigerator isn’t working quite right and when she stops by the local high school to visit her chess students – Mr. Ganz filled in in the interim – they tell her that they really need her before their next big tournament, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell them no, even if the majority of her heart is back in New York.

            “Take the time you need,” Benny says when she tells him that she’s going to be in Kentucky a little while longer.

            “How’s your mom?”

            “She let us throw away her wine yesterday. She probably just bought more today.”

            “You don’t know that.”  Beth says, although he’s probably right.  “It’s a start.”

            “Yeah, I guess.”  He sounds tired and she again feels guilty for not being there with him. “I miss you.”

            She doesn’t hesitate before telling him, “I miss you, too.  But, I’ll be back soon.”

            “I have to get going.  I’ll call you again tonight?”

            “Okay.  We’ll talk tonight.”

            Without Benny, Beth finds herself with free time. Her entire days had been filled with him before.  There was playing chess.  Talking about chess.  And then just him.  She misses him, but in his absence, she starts to think about ways to fill her time not only outside of him, but outside of chess.

            It’s central on her mind when she goes to the grocery store to get a fresh carton of milk.  As she’s trying to decide between two cartons, a familiar voice goes, “Beth?”

            She turns around, grinning wide when she sees Harry Beltik.

            “Harry, hi.  How are you?”

            “I’m doing good.  How are you?”

            “Good.”

            “Is Benny around her somewhere?”  Harry asks, briefly glancing around.

            “No, he’s actually in New York.”

            Harry frowns.  “I’m really sorry to hear that, Beth.  It seems like you two were good together."

            “We’re still together,” she says quickly. 

            “Oh, good,” Harry says.  He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by the gaffe. “I’m glad to hear that.  I read about your win in Santa Fe last month. Is it true that you left Hennesey in tears?”

            Beth smiles slightly.  “He says it was allergies.”

            “Likely story.”

            After a pause, Beth asks him, “You took classes down at the community college, right?”

            Harry blinks and nods with surprise.  “Yeah, I did.  Are you interested?”

            She shrugs.  “I might be.  I don’t know. It wouldn’t be for now, since I’m going back and forth between New York.”

            “I never thought the day would come where you would show interest in something that isn’t chess.”

            “I’m interested in a lot of things that aren’t chess,” Beth says.

            Harry nods, but she can tell he doesn’t quite believe her.  “Sure, you are.  Well, when you’re ready, I can recommend some classes for you.”

            “I’d like that.  Thank you.”

            “I should get back to work.  But, it was really nice seeing you, Beth.”

            “You too, Harry.”

            “I have interests outside of chess, right?” Beth asks Benny that night.

            “Sure, you’re interested in me.”

            “That’s not what I mean,” she says with a slight grin. Besides, Benny and chess had always been intertwined in her mind.  “I think I may want to start taking some classes at the community college here.”

            “Really?” he asks, and he sounds just like Harry when she mentioned it back at the grocery store.

            “Why do you sound so surprised?  Harry was like that, too.”

            “You saw Beltik?  How’s he doing?”

            “He’s fine,” Beth says off-handedly.  “Why is it so surprising that I want to take classes? I can have things outside of chess.”

            “Of course, you can,” Benny says. 

            And she can, can’t she?  She doesn’t just have to be one thing.  There’s space enough for her to explore. 

            “Beth,” Benny murmurs, drawing her from her thoughts. “You can have things outside of chess. You can have whatever you want.  I just never thought you wanted that.”

            “It doesn’t mean anything.”

            “I know,” he says, voice soft and yielding. She wishes she was with him.  “Are you still coming this weekend?”

            “Yes,” she says. “I should be in around ten.”

            “I’ll be there.”  After a pause he says, “I love you, Beth.”

            She sighs, resting her head against the couch. “I know you do.  I’ll see you this weekend.”

            The weekend comes quickly and then she is in New York, arms wrapped around Benny with her face pressed against his neck, and everything feels okay again.  When they come to his apartment, she notices some pamphlets for community colleges on the kitchen table.  She picks one up and leafs through it.

            “I looked into some classes out here,” he says. “There are some that are only a few weeks.  I figured if you lined up your visits with them, maybe you could take a few?“

            She walks over and gives him a tight hug. “Thank you, Benny.  I…“

            She stops herself before she says it, but his grip on her tightens.  She goes back to the pamphlets and looks through them, seeing if anything catches her attention.  As she looks through them, Benny says, “I thought we could do something sort of different tonight.”

            “Yeah?”

            “A buddy of mine invested in a show playing downtown.  I thought we could see it?”

            Beth had never been a fan of theater, but she was a fan of Benny, so she nods and asks, “What show?”

            “It’s called Company.  I don’t know a lot about it, but my friend says it’s pretty good.”

            Beth smirks.  “I’m pretty sure he has to say that.”

            Benny laughs at that and says, “We don’t have to go.”

            “No, I think it’s a great idea.”

            Beth didn’t understand theater, and she especially did not understand musical theater.  She didn’t see the point in people breaking into songs.  It wasn’t realistic and it just didn’t mean anything.  She felt nothing from the music or words.  When the first act is over, Benny looks over at her and says, “You don’t like it, do you?”

            “Why is there so much singing?”

            “It’s a musical,” Benny returns drily.

            “If people broke out into song like that in real life, they’d be institutionalized.”

            Benny grins.  “We can leave, if you want.”

            “No,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “We have to see it through now.”

            The intermission ends and the lights dim. Beth half-considers closing her eyes. She’d probably wake up at the applause. But, when Beth decides to do something she does it the right way, so she sits up straighter in her seat and commits to another hour or so of this lunacy.  The second act isn’t much better and she takes a quick peek at the playbill to see how many songs are left.  Only one. 

            “Thank God,” Beth murmurs under her breath.

            The action on-stage makes way to the final number and Beth furtively looks at her watch.   It’s nearly 10:00.  She thinks of all the chess they could have played.

Someone to hold you too close

Someone to hurt you deep

Someone to sit in your chair

And ruin your sleep

          Beth is surprised by the conflict in the music. She doesn’t know anything about composition, but there is an unmistakable tension between the instruments and voice, almost a sense of melancholy, and she feels herself drawn forward in her seat.

Someone you have to let in

Someone who’s feelings you spare

Someone who, like it or not

Will want you to share

A little, a lot

            Her heart is beating at such a pace that her breath cannot seem to keep up.  She can feel tears pressing at the back of her eyes and doesn’t understand why.  The song builds and then the actor steps to the front of the stage, eyes closed as his voice carries through the theater. The sheer force of his voice makes her tremble.  The words. The truth.

Somebody crowd me with love

Somebody force me to care

Somebody make me come through

I’ll always be there as frightened as you

To help us survive

Being alive, being alive

Being alive

            The final chord rings through the theater and there is a hushed silence before the crowd begins to applaud.  People stand around her, but she stays seated, still caught up somewhere in the last verse.  She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Benny covers her knee with his hand.

            “Beth?”

            She looks over at him and everything is so clear. “I love you.  I love you so much.”

            He grins wide and says, “I know.”

            And then he’s kissing her and she is so incandescently happy that she wants to cry out in joy, but her mouth is otherwise occupied.  Benny pulls away and frames her face with his hands, and then she says it again.  She loves him.  She wants to say it again and again, because each time she says it doesn’t feel like enough.  But then the cast comes out for their curtain call and she rises to her feet, clapping until her hands are raw. 

            When they leave, Beth asks, “Do you think your friend can get us another set of tickets?” 

            “I thought you didn’t like musicals.” 

            She’s pressed to his side as they walk to the subway. She doesn’t want to walk anywhere anymore without being pressed to his side.

            “I changed my mind.”

Chapter Text

For the next few months, Benny and Beth alternate visits between Kentucky and New York.   They hadn’t discussed a permanent solution to their problem, which both of them knew they would have to eventually, but for now their arrangement was working.  The US Open is in Vegas again and they meet in the Caesar’s Palace lobby.  Benny makes some teasing comment but she has already dropped her luggage and thrown her arms around him.

            “Geez guys, get a room,” a voice says behind them.  The voice belongs to one of two people, whose voices are as indiscernible as their identical faces.

            “Hello boys,” Benny says smoothly, his arm slung over Beth’s shoulders. “Any insider tips for us?”

            The twins were helping out at the tournament, no doubt swayed by the comped rooms and meals.

            “You know we could disqualify you for even asking that,” Mike says good-naturedly, knowing Benny was only joking.

            “The Federation could have us wired for all you know,” Matt adds.

            “The Federation is too worried about brownnosing with Nixon to worry about who you two are talking to,” Benny says.

            “He has a point,” Mike says.  “We are very low on the totem pole.”

            “Did you hear Gorsky is here?”  Matt says, missing the way Beth’s face pales.  “He wasn’t supposed to come, but he got added last minute.  We had to rearrange all the initial plays.”

            “We should rest-up before the games start this afternoon,” Beth says.  “It was good seeing you two.”

            “Yeah, you too,” Mike says.  “We’ll see you guys later.”      

            Beth doesn’t talk on their way to the room, and after Benny opens the door she immediately runs over to the bathroom and pukes.  Benny crouches next to her, rubbing her back.

            “You don’t have to worry about Gorsky.  You could beat him in your sleep.”

            “I know.”  She stands up and washes her mouth out in the sink. 

            Benny can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it further, and so instead he asks her, “What do you want to do for lunch?  We can just order room service.”

            Beth nods.  “That sounds great.  Thanks.”

            She unpacks her suitcase and hangs her dresses up in the closet, carefully smoothing any wrinkles from the skirts.  Benny watches her and asks, “Which one are you wearing today?”

            “I’m not sure yet.”  She usually has each day’s outfit planned in advance, but this time she had hesitated, throwing in more than enough for the three-day tournament.  Her hand lingers on a cream shift dress that she brought. She planned to pair it with a turquoise cardigan, but quickly realizes she left it at home. 

            “How do burgers sound?”  Benny asks from the bed, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

            “Burgers sound great.”

            After lunch, Beth settles on a deep green dress with white piping throughout the bodice, and she sits at the table for her first match.  A short balding man sits across from her.  He fidgets before they even start to play, and after her first decisive move, the fidgeting increases.  In theory, all the players at the Open should be good, but she beats him in less than thirty minutes.  She continued her streak, some games taking longer than others, and then she is finished for the day.  Benny is still playing and she can tell from the board that it will be a long time before they are finished.  Maybe even the possibility of an adjournment. Beth watches for twenty minutes or so and then stands, wandering through the casino. She stops at a roulette table and watches a group of nicely dressed couples play.  As the roulette wheel spins, a familiar thought presses at the back of Beth’s mind.

            She missed her period.

            She’s thought about it at least on an hourly basis since she reached day 10, and then with each additional day, she thought about it more.  The only time she didn’t think about it was when she was playing chess.  Even during the easy games, her mind became too occupied by the board.  It had been a relief that afternoon to just play.  But then when it was over, the thoughts returned.

            In the beginning, she could tell herself that it was because of stress. It was difficult with all the travel back and forth between Kentucky and New York, and she didn’t like being away from Benny.  But then she started getting sick in the morning.  And sometimes in the afternoon, too.  At a certain point, she had to accept the reality of her situation.  She was pregnant.

            And she still hadn’t told Benny.

            She walks past one of several bars in the casino, surprised when she recognizes the back of a head.  Her feet propel her forward and she reaches out a hand that seems to cover his shoulder of its own accord.

            “Townes?”

            He turns around and she’s hugging him, just like in Moscow, and he murmurs, “Harmon, it sure is good to see you.”

            “What are you doing here?”   

            “I’m covering the tournament for the Kentucky Chronicle.”

            She sits next to him and orders a club soda.  It occurs to her that she now has more than one reason to do so.    

            “You look different,” he says, and for a panicked second she thinks that he knows. “You look happy.”

            His words surprise her.  Had she not looked happy before?  She asks him that and he laughs slightly, shaking his head.  “No, you seemed happy.  But this is different.  You seem, I don’t know, content.”

            “I guess I am in a way.”

            “I heard about you and Benny Watts,” Townes says.  “I can’t say I wasn’t a little jealous.”   She raises an eyebrow, her breath quickening, and he adds, “I’m just imaging all the great chess games you guys must play.”

            Beth laughs, relieved by the turn that took.  “We do play a lot of chess.  But not all the time.  Sometimes it surprises me how normal we are.”

            “Normal is good.”

            “How about you and Roger?” she asks.

            “We’re doing good,” Townes says, taking a sip of his drink.  It looks like whiskey.  Beth couldn’t remember if she had ever seen him drink before.  “So, what’s new with you?  There has to be something since we last saw each other.”

            It’s such an opportune question that she almost tells him.  Because it’s Townes and something about him had always felt safe to her, even when her feelings confused things, but she doesn’t.  She feels guilty for even thinking it.

            “I’m going to start classes at a community college near me,” Beth says.

            “Don’t tell me you’re leaving us,” Townes says.

            “No, I’m not leaving you,” she says with a grin.  “Just exploring a bit.”

            “I think that’s good,” he says, taking a sip of his whiskey.  “There’s more to life than chess.”

            She leans in and says, “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that at a chess tournament.”

            He matches her stature and says, “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

            He grins and she can’t help herself from grinning back, and then someone clears their throat behind them.

            “Benny Watts,” Townes says jovially.  “It’s nice to see you.”

            “Yeah, you too.”  She can tell from his tone that he’s irritated. 

            “How’d your game go?”  Beth asks, hoping to reduce the tension.

            “We adjourned.  Are you ready to get some dinner?”

            Beth nods, slipping off her stool.  “It was good to see you, Townes.”

            “You too, Beth.  Best of luck to you with everything.”

            She nods and follows Benny out of the bar.  He isn’t saying anything, which is how she knows that he’s mad. 

            “Benny-“

            “Did I interrupt something over there?”

            “Of course not.  We were just talking.”

            He nods, jaw clenched, and she doesn’t want to deal with a pissed off Benny all night, so she takes a hold of his arm and stops him.  Before she can say anything, he asks, “Did you guys sleep together in Paris?”

            “What?  No. Why would you think that?”

            Benny makes a sort of scoffing noise and she plants her hands on her hips. “Benny, we didn’t sleep together because Townes is gay.”

            He blinks rapidly and says, “What?”

            “It’s not exactly common knowledge, but he’s gay.  And in a relationship.  So, no, we didn’t sleep together.  And, no, you didn’t walk in on anything back at the bar.”

            “Shit, I’m sorry,” he says.  “I just heard some stuff before, and I just sort of assumed…”

            “I know,” she says.  “But, even if he wasn’t, there still wouldn’t have been anything happening at the bar.”

            Benny looks chagrined, and he says, “I probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions there.  My game wasn’t going like I wanted, so I came in a little hot to begin with, and then I saw you together…”

            “Are you in bad shape for tomorrow?”  she asks immediately.

            “No, I should be fine.  I just made a move I shouldn’t have, and he ran with it.”

            “Do you want to go through some combinations tonight?”

            Benny looks at her and says, “I’m a total jerk and you still want to go through combinations?”

            “You’re the one who told me before that the Americans are at a disadvantage because we don’t work as a team.”

            Benny smiles slightly and shakes his head.  “Yeah, I did say that.”

            “And you’re not a jerk.  I understand why you thought you saw what you saw.”  She wonders then if Cleo ever told him about her being in love with Townes. “So, dinner first?”

            He nods, capturing her hand in his.  “Yeah, dinner first.”

             The next morning, Beth wakes up with a headache and immediate nerves.  Ever since she almost told Townes about her pregnancy, it had become increasingly more apparent how she had not told Benny. At first, she rationalized it that she didn’t want to distract him from the game.  But, she had been getting sick before she left for Vegas.  The truth was, the moment that she told him it became real.

            She purposely didn’t eat before her morning slate of games so that she wouldn’t get sick.  But, it seemed that food had very little to do with the entire process, and she leaves her first game twice to dry heave into a waste basket in the women’s bathroom. It seems unfair that this can still happen and nothing comes up.  She knows Benny noticed and when she gets up during her second game, Benny is waiting for her outside the bathroom.

            “Beth, what’s going on?”

            “I’m fine.  I think I just ate something weird at breakfast.”

            “You didn’t eat breakfast.”

            Irritation crackles in her chest, and she snaps, “Benny, just leave it for now.  I’m fine.  We both have games to play.”

            “What do you mean, leave it for now?”

            She’s tired and her stomach hurts from all of the retching.  All she wants to do is go sit back down at the chessboard and forget about everything else, but Benny is insistent, and she can tell from his stance that he isn’t going to go back to his game without an explanation.

            “Fine,” she huffs.  “If you must know, I’m pregnant.”

            His eyes widen.  “You’re what?”

            “And I need to go back to my game before I have to go dry heave again in fifteen minutes.  Excuse me.”

            She walks back to her board, feeling marginally guilty when she sees Benny reappear, his face completely devoid of color.  She forces her attention back on the board and is able to successfully close the game without having to go back to the bathroom.  She quickly buys a muffin from a café between games and gets half of it down before she has to start her next game.  She’s relieved to see that Benny wins his game.  And then he wins his next too, and so does she. When the day is finally over, Beth is relieved until Benny comes up to her and says, “We have to talk.”

            He waits until they are in their room and then asks, “Are you sure about this?”

            “I’m a month late.  So, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

            She expects him to share her consternation over the situation, but instead, he grins wide, placing his hands on her stomach.

            “Stop that,” she says, swatting his hands away.  “It’s not like anything is really there yet.”

            “You’re not happy,” he says in disbelief.

            “I don’t know what I am,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I know I said I wanted to explore life outside of chess, but this…this is an end to all of it.”

            “That’s not true.”        

            “How can I possibly go to tournaments with a baby?  And then if you get to go, I’ll just grow to resent you for it, and-“

            “Hey, slow down,” he says, sitting next to her and taking a hold of her hands. “Who said you can’t go to tournaments?”

            “Be practical.”

            “I am.  We can find a way to make this work.”

            “How can we possibly make this work?”  she asks, her voice strained.  “Think of this weekend.  How could we possibly make something like this weekend work with a baby?”

            “We have family.”

            “Oh, you mean your alcoholic mother?  Or wait, what about me?  Oh, that’s right, I’m an orphan whose adoptive father won’t even acknowledge exists.”

            “Then we’ll bring the baby with us.”

            “Benny, come on,” she says.  It’s ridiculous and she doesn’t see how he doesn’t see that. 

            “We’re not the first people in chess to start a family.  Borgov has a family.”

            “Borgov’s wife doesn’t play chess.  I’m not going to just become the person who holds the baby while you travel around the country, Benny.  I won’t.”

            “Do you really think I’d expect you to do that?”  Benny asks sharply.

            “No,” Beth admits.  “I just don’t know how to do this.  Any of it.”

            “We’ll figure it out,” Benny repeats, his voice softening.  “But this baby is a good thing.”

            Beth looks over at him, and although she still believes this could all be a disaster, the look in his eyes makes her believe it a little less.

            “How will becoming a father fit in with your image as the rock star of chess?”

            He shakes his head and says, “As long as I’ve got you, I don’t need to be the rock star of anything.”

            She holds his hands against her stomach and says, “I’m scared.”

            “I know.  But, we can handle this.”

            He’s such a steady force.  He always has been.  Even when being around him made her heart beat like mad – either out of nerves in the beginning, or something else later on – there had been a sureness that he brought out in her.  Sureness that she could learn to beat him.  Sureness that she could learn to love him as much as he loved her.  She looks down at his hands, getting a crazy idea, and it sounds even crazier when she says it aloud.  “We should get married.”

            “What?”  Benny asks.

            “We can just go down to one of those 24-hour chapels.”

            “Is this because of the baby?” 

            “Partially,” Beth admits.  She isn’t one for convention, but being a child born out of wedlock had left its scars. “But mostly, it’s because of you.”

            Benny pauses and then says, “Yeah, okay.  Let’s get married.”

            Beth throws on her cream dress, which turns out to be of use even without the turquoise cardigan, and Benny wears his nicer pair of jeans and a black button-up.  They need a witness, so they stop at the twins’ room.

            “Beth and I are getting married.  Any chance one of you wants to be the witness?”

            Mike grins wide.  “There’s not a chance in hell you’re only getting one of us.  Matt, let’s go!”

            It turns out there’s a chapel in the hotel and they go there, ducking their heads down when some other players from the tournament see them walking in.

            “I feel like we maybe should have gone somewhere else,” Beth says.

            “Nah, I think this chapel is perfect.”   

            “Are you going to change your last name to Watts?”  Mike asks Beth.  “Because then we’ll have to update the board.”

            “You both would be B. Watts,” Matt says with dawning realization.  “That won’t work.”

            “That definitely won’t work,” Mike echoes.

            “I’m keeping my last name,” Beth says firmly. 

            The twins look over to Benny and he shrugs.  “Looks like she’s keeping her name, boys.”

            There’s one couple ahead of them who appears to be several bottles deep into the night, and when Beth and Benny walk up, the officiant says, “You two look remarkably sober.”

            “That’s because we are,” Benny says.

            “Well, look at that.  I might actually officiate a wedding that doesn’t end in divorce.  Do you have a witness?”

            “We have two,” Beth says, gesturing to the twins.

            “Sober and over-prepared.  What a marvel.  Alright, let’s get you two married.”

            The wedding is short and sweet.  They realize on the spot that they hadn’t thought of rings, and Benny uses two he is already wearing.  He gives her the one he wore when they first met.  She remembers how he always played with it between moves.  They don’t do any sort of special vows but when Benny kisses her, she is the happiest she has ever been.  

            The next morning, Townes catches her in the elevator – Benny had already gone downstairs for his game – and he says, “I heard a rumor.  It sounds like I can’t call you Harmon anymore.”

            Beth grins and confirms, “Benny and I got married last night.  But, I’m keeping my last name.  So, you can still call me Harmon.”

            He nods.  “I’m glad to hear that.  I’m happy for you.  It seems like you’re in a really good place.”

            Beth doesn’t know if that is true or not given the particular circumstance he is unaware of, but she wants to believe him.  When the doors open, Townes gestures for her to go first and says, “Good luck on your game, Harmon.  Kentucky and me are rooting for you.”

            “Thanks, Townes.”

            When Beth gets to her chair, there is a piece of paper on it that says Mrs. Benny Watts.  She looks over to the twins, who are watching her with glee.  Shaking her head, she crumples the paper into a ball and walks over to them, holding it out in her palm. 

            Mike grins, taking the balled-up paper, and says, “Never change, Harmon.”

            “I won’t.”

Chapter Text

After Las Vegas, Benny flies back to Kentucky with Beth to spend a week with her.  Cal had promised to look after their mother, and he called every night with an update.  Benny shared the news of his and Beth’s marriage to Cal, and he said, “I’m going to not tell Mom you guys eloped in Vegas.  We shouldn’t give her another reason to drink.”

            Both Beth and Benny agreed to not tell anyone about the pregnancy until she was farther along.  Their first order of business when they returned to Kentucky was to see a doctor, and he explained to them the risks in the first trimester.  Beth was surprised, and somewhat relieved, to feel that even with her doubts about being a mother, the thought of losing the baby was unbearable. Maybe she was more normal than she thought.

            One afternoon, they go to Ben Snyders to pick up clothes.  Beth wants, more than needs, a new dress and Benny finally admits that it’s time to replace his leather duster. 

            “I’ll meet you over by the coats,” Beth says, going off to find herself a new dress first.  She runs her hand along the various fabrics, feeling the familiar thrill.  This is her favorite part about shopping.  The moment before, when the opportunities seem endless. Her attention focuses on a camel-colored dress with black and white color blocks.  The shape is not something she would usually wear, but her eyes follow the geometric shapes in an almost sort of wonder.  She picks it up and turns toward the long mirror, holding the dress against her frame.  Behind her in the mirror, she sees an old classmate looking at a rack of maternity dresses.

            “Margaret?”

            The woman looks up, recognition replacing confusion as she says, “Beth. It’s so nice to see you.”  She steps forward, pushing the stroller in front of her.  The small blonde baby that Beth had seen before had grown into a toddler.  The young girl looks at Beth inquisitively before losing interest.

            “How are you?” Margaret asks.

            “I’m good.”  She looks down at Margaret’s bulging stomach.  “How far along are you?”

            Margaret smiles, her hand on her belly, and says, “It feels about twenty years, but eight months.  I swear you get bigger faster with your second pregnancy.  I looked ready to deliver after two months.”

            Beth nods, having no frame of reference with which to respond.  She remembers the bag of liquor that had been stashed under her stroller before, and asks, “What’s it like?  Being a mother?”

            Margaret smiles placidly and says, “Well, it’s the best job in the world.”

            It sounds like a line, but then the toddler starts to squirm and Margaret leans forward, playing with her daughter in a way that makes Beth think that maybe it hadn’t been a line, at all.  She watches Margaret wiggle her fingers in front of the toddler’s face and remembers all the times back in high school when she had yearned for her approval. Yearned to be normal.

            Abruptly, Beth says, “I’m pregnant.”

            Margaret looks up at her, and then down at her bare ring finger.  She and Benny still hadn’t gotten around to getting actual rings.  Beth puts her hand behind her back.

            “Congratulations.  How far along are you?”

            “Only about a month,” she says. 

            Margaret tilts her head to the side and her eyes scan over Beth’s frame. “Yes, I can tell you’re going to be one of those women who only shows from the side.  I swear every part of me inflates whenever I’m pregnant.”

            It isn’t particularly funny, but Beth laughs anyway.  Benny walks over, sans a new coat, and smiles congenially at Margaret before Beth says, “This is my husband, Benny.”

            Margaret’s eyes light up.  “My husband is a big fan of yours.  He would absolutely hate me telling you this, but in high school, he actually saved the copy of Chess Review when you were on the cover.  He wouldn’t even let me touch it.  He just kept going on about how it was going to be a collector’s item one day.”

            “I didn’t know Mike liked chess,” Beth says.

            Margaret looks somewhat sheepish when she says, “Everyone liked chess then. Even if they wouldn’t readily admit it. We should all get dinner one night.”

            Benny looks over at Beth before he says, “Sure.”

            “Anyway, I need to get going.  There will be a meltdown from this one if we don’t get a nap in soon.  It was good to see you.”

            “You too,” Beth says.

            “And congratulations again.”  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a crumpled receipt and a pen.  She writes down her phone number on the back of the receipt and hands it to Beth.  “Call me if you need any advice.  I had so many questions during my first pregnancy that I was too embarrassed to ask my doctor.  I’m happy to help.”

            “Thank you.”

            When she walks away, Benny asks, “You told her you were pregnant?”

            “Yeah, it just came out.”

            Benny shrugs.  “Okay. Were you two friends back in high school?”

            “No, we were practically different breeds.  She was part of this group called the Apple Pi’s.”

            “What did they do, bake pies together?”  Benny asks sarcastically.

            Beth grins, remembering how she had made the same mistake.  “No, pi like the Greek letter.  They all ignored me until I started being written up in the papers.  Then they invited me to a meeting at Margaret’s house.”

            “How did that go?”

            “I left early and stole a bottle of her dad’s liquor.”

            Benny nods slowly.  “So, I’m guessing it’s a no to dinner?”

            “I always wanted to be like her,” Beth admits.  “Even after that stupid meeting.  They all just sat in the living room singing along with the Monkees.”

            “We’ve sung along to the Monkees,” Benny points out. 

            “She says being a mother is the best job in the world.”

            “Is it a job if they don’t pay you?”     

            She grins, linking her arm through his.  “We can do a dinner.  I know how much you miss your adoring fans.”  He smiles at that.  “So, no coat?” 

            “They’re all so boring.”

            “We can try another store.”

            “No, I think this is just reinforcement that my leather coat is perfect.”

            Beth rolls her eyes and holds up her dress.  “What do you think?”

            “It reminds me of a chess board.”

            “Does it?”  She turns the dress around and looks at it again.  “Huh. I guess it does.”

            “A lot of your clothes do, actually.”

            Complicit in this comment is the fact that Benny had looked at her clothes enough to notice a chess motif.  She’d never found him in her closet, so the only explanation is that he had looked at her in her clothes enough to pick up on it.  Despite them being in a very public place, Beth rises on her tip toes and presses a quick kiss to his mouth.

            “What was that for?” he asks.

             “No specific reason.”  She turns back to the rack of dresses.  “I should get this one size up.  It’ll be something to grow into.”

            On their way out, Beth spies a rack of men’s coats that Benny hadn’t looked at, and she convinces him to buy a simple black overcoat. 

            “But you should keep your black leather one,” she says, having an uncharacteristic moment of nostalgia.  He was wearing that coat when they met.  She tells him that, and he returns with, “I also was wearing the hat.”

            She rolls her eyes.  “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

            “It was a great hat.”

            Beth smiles, shaking her head slightly.  “Benny, I married you.  I am carrying your child.  Do you think you can let go of the hat?”

            He steps closer, sliding an arm around her waist.  “It was perfectly worn in.” 

            “So is the couch.”

            He grins.  “Fine, I’ll let go of the hat.”

            “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Benny had plans to go with Beth to her first ultrasound, but New York gets hit by the worst blizzard in years and his flight gets cancelled.  He proposes driving, but Beth immediately tells him no, imagining him stranded on some highway between New York and Lexington.

            “You’ll be there for the next ultrasound,” she says.

            “I’m really sorry, Beth.  I hate that you’ll be there alone.”

            “I won’t be alone,” she says.

            “You better not ask Beltik.”

            Beth smirks.  “I’ll have Jolene go with me.  Maybe going to my first ultrasound will make up for her not being at our wedding.”

            “Good luck with that,” Benny says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “You’ll call me right after?”

            “I will,” Beth promises.

            “I want to hear about everything.  I mean it. Even the boring stuff.”

            “I promise to give you a minute-by-minute account.”

            Jolene agrees to go with Beth to the doctor, and when the nurse comes out to the waiting room to bring them back, she stops short and asks, “I’m sorry, are you two together?”     

            “Yes.  You got a problem with that?”  Jolene asks pointedly.

            Beth suppresses a grin as the nurse pales and takes them back to an examination room without another word.  The nurse quickly takes Beth’s vitals, and then only addresses Beth when she says, “Dr. Woodland will be back shortly to see you.”

            When she’s gone, Jolene leans back in her chair and asks, “So, do you think that was because she thought I was your partner or because she thought your partner was black?”

            Beth considers this.  “Probably a bit of both.”

            “Just when we think we got some progress.”

            “Thank you again for coming with me.  It means a lot to me.  And Benny. He was pretty unhappy about not being here.”

            “I bet he was,” Jolene says.  “You guys figure out what you’re going to do about the whole living in two states thing? Because, I’m pretty sure that won’t work once this baby comes.”

            “I know,” Beth sighs, looking down at her feet.  “We’re working on it.”

            “You’ve got time,” Jolene says.  “Not a lot. But you’ve still got it.”

            Dr. Woodland comes into the room, grinning wide, and says, “Beth, it’s good to see you again.  No Mr. Watts today?”

            Beth shakes her head.  “He’s out of town.”

            “So, she brought the next best thing,” Jolene says.

            Dr. Woodland grins.  “I can see that.  Support is very important during a time like this, so I’m glad she has you.”  He turns his attention back to Beth.  “Are you ready for your ultrasound?”

            Beth nods, and he gestures for her to lay back on the chair.  He lifts her shirt and squirts a clear gel onto her protruding stomach.  It’s cold, and she can feel her abdominal muscles contract. Dr. Woodland places the transducer into the gel and slowly begins to move it across her abdomen. Beth watches the images on the screen, not understanding the shapes and shadows that she saw, but then he stopped the transducer and turned it to the right.

            “There we are,” he says.

            And then she sees it.  The unmistakable shape of a head over a blob-like body.  Jolene goes to Beth’s side, grasping her friend’s hand as she breathes out, “Well, look at that, cracker.”

            Dr. Woodland coughs in surprise, and Beth says, “Don’t worry.  It’s a term of endearment with us.”

            Jolene squeezes her hand.

            Dr. Woodland shifts the transducer a bit against her stomach.  “Would you like to know the gender?”

            Beth hadn’t expected this.  It wasn’t something she and Benny discussed, but with the option of knowing, she couldn’t say no.  She nods slightly and Dr. Woodland tells her, “You’re having a girl.”

            “A girl,” she breathes out, feeling tears press at the back of her eyes.  She looks over at Jolene.  “I’m having a girl.”          

            Beth is too excited to wait until she gets home to call Benny, so she stops at a payphone right outside of the doctor’s office and dials his number.  He answers immediately, and when he hears it’s her, he says, “How did it go?  Hold on – why am I hearing cars?”

            “I’m calling you from the payphone out front.”

            “Why are you calling me from the payphone out front?  Shit, is something wrong?  I knew I should have driven out.”

            “Benny-“

            “I’ll leave right now.  Just say there.”

            “At the payphone?” 

            “You’re right.  Go home. I’ll get in my car right now.  If I leave now, I should be able to make it there in 10 or 11 hours.  Maybe less if I drive fast.”

            “Benny,” she says loudly.  “Please stop talking.  There’s nothing wrong.”

            “There isn’t?  Then why are you calling me from a payphone?”

            “I couldn’t wait.  I found out the gender.”

            It sounds like he drops something.  “Wait, really?  I didn’t know you’d be finding out the gender.”

            “I didn’t either.  But, Dr. Woodland was doing the ultrasound and he asked if I wanted to know.  So, I said yes.  You’re not mad, right?”

            “No, I’m not mad,” he says, his voice rising in both volume and octave. “What did he say?”

            Beth grins and tells him, “It’s a girl.”

            “A girl,” he breathes out.  “We’re having a girl?”

            She nods, laughing at the sheer joy of it all.  “We’re having a girl.”

            The next morning, Beth wakes up to find Benny with her, his arm thrown over her waist.  She turns into his arm and he stirs, smiling lazily before he leans in and presses a kiss to her mouth.

            “I told you not to drive out here,” she says, pressing her palm on his chest. She can feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.  God, she missed hm.

            “I couldn’t wait.  The snow let up but there wasn’t going to be another flight until this afternoon, so…” he shrugs to finish

            “So, you just drove 10 hours?”

            “Yeah.  I drove 10 hours.”

            She turns on her back, folding an arm behind her head, and he covers her stomach with his hand.  “I can’t believe our daughter is in here.”

            “I know.”

            “We should play her music.  I read somewhere that you should play the baby music.  It helps it develop or something.”

            “Where did you read that?” she asks with amusement, imaging Benny holed up with parenting books in New York.

            “And we should read to her.  Do you think she recognizes our voices yet?”

            “I don’t think she has ears yet.  So, I’d say no.” 

            “When do the ears come in?”

            “That wasn’t in your book?”  Beth teases.     

            “Laugh all you want, but I saw Childbirth Without Fear on the kitchen table.”

            “That was Jolene’s idea of a joke.”

            They both go quiet for a moment, Benny’s hand still splayed over her stomach, and she says, “We need to talk about where we’re going to live.”

            “I know.”

            “We can’t be travelling back and forth once there’s a baby.”

            “I know.”  He sounds tired, and she reminds herself that he just drove 10 hours, and knowing Benny, it was without a break.

            “How’s your mom doing?” she asks.

            “Well, yesterday she accused Cal of stealing money out of her purse.”

            Beth considers this and asks, “Did he?”

            “Of course not.  She’s just getting paranoid.”

            She turns back on her side and rests her head on his chest.  “How does it feel to be the son that your mother doesn’t accuse of stealing money from her purse?”

            “It feels like I can’t leave her and Cal alone.”

            After a pause, she says, “I could come to New York.”

            “We both know your life is here, Beth.”

            “I could make it work,” she says, looking up at him.  “I could.  For you. The distance is getting harder.”

            “I know,” he murmurs, pushing her hair away from her face.  “I hate that I’m missing things.”

            Beth wraps an arm around him, a thought looping through her brain.  She plots out all of the moving parts, like she does with a chess game, and then she asks, “What if we brought your mom out here?”

            Benny laughs humorlessly.  “How would you propose we do that?”

            “We have a spare room.”

            “I’m not bringing an alcoholic into your house.”

            “It’s already seen two,” Beth returns reasonably. 

            “Beth, I’m serious.  It would be too much.”

            “But then you could be here and still look after her.  Tell her we need her help with preparing for the baby.  We’ll keep the house dry and make it a condition of her staying with us.”

            “You’re actually serious about this,” Benny says.  After a moment he adds, “She’ll never agree to it.”

            A few days later, Benny drives back to New York. He takes a day for himself and then drives to his mother’s house.  He’s still not convinced that this is a good idea, but he supposed if Beth was opposed to bringing his mother to Lexington, she wouldn’t have been the one to propose it in the first place.  The house looks nice.  The bushes are freshly trimmed and when his mother opens the door, she’s fully dressed.

            “Benjamin, I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

            “Sorry, I didn’t think to call.  Are you busy?”

            “Of course not, come in.”

            He walks into the house and they settle in the kitchen.  She offers him a cup of coffee, and he gathers his thought as she pours him a cup.

            “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Benny says.  “Beth just had her first ultrasound.”

            “Is everything okay?”  she asks immediately.

            “Yeah, everything’s fine.  We’re having a girl.”

            She grins wide.  “A girl. Oh, Benjamin…that’s marvelous.”

            “There’s going to be a lot to get ready for with the baby and neither of us have a lot of family out in Lexington.  We were hoping you would come out and stay with us.”

            “Move to Lexington?”

            Benny nods.  “It wouldn’t be permanent.  We have a spare room that you could stay in.  I know it would mean a lot to Beth to have some help.”  He clears his throat and adds, “You should know, we don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

            His mother’s face darkens.  “So, you want to babysit me.”

            “No,” he says.  “I’d like you to have the opportunity to meet your granddaughter.  But, you can’t drink.  I won’t have that around Beth and I certainly won’t have that around my kid.”

            She pauses before asking, “What would happen to my house?”

            “I already talked to Cal.  He’ll look after it.”

            His mother is quiet for a long while.  So long that he nearly finishes his cup of coffee.

            “Can I think about it?” she asks.

            “Yeah, you can think about it.”    

Chapter Text

            The phone rings while Beth is hard-boiling a dozen eggs for the week, and she picks it up, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear as she walks back to the stove.

            “Hello?”         

            “Hey Beth, it’s Jolene.”

            Beth transfers the phone to her other ear as she nudges a few fraternizing eggs away from each other in the boiling water.  “Jolene, hi, how are you?”

            “I’m good.  How’s my goddaughter doing?”

            “She keeps kicking me.”

            Jolene snorts.  “Good girl. Anyway, Rick and I wanted to know what you and Benny were doing this weekend.  We’re finally having a housewarming for our new place.”

            “We’re in New York this weekend,” Beth says.  “We’re bringing Benny’s mom back here, remember?”

            “Shit.  So, you’re actually going through with it?”

            Beth walks back over to the phone cradle, turning around and pressing her back against the wall.  “Yes. We’re going through with it.  I told you before.”

            “Yeah, but I thought it was just one of those things you talk about but don’t actually do.”  Jolene pauses.  “You and Benny should have all the sex you want now.  Because, once his mother is under your roof…”

            “I’m pretty sure that all goes away with the baby, anyway.”

            “I don’t know, our old secretary here had a baby last year and she used to come in walking side to side sometimes afterwards, and it wasn’t because of the labor.”

            Beth laughs and drily returns, “Thanks for that visual.”  

            “So, you’re missing my housewarming to drive some old lady from New York to here, huh?”

            “We’re also playing in a chess tournament while we’re out there,” she says. “It’s the New York City Invitational.”

            “Do you think when the other players see your name on the list, they’re excited or scared shitless?”

            “I don’t care so long as I win.”

            She hears Jolene snicker before she says, “That’s my girl.  Well, we’ll miss you guys.”

            “Benny and me will stop by after we get his mom settled in.”

            “You can bring her, if you want.  How’s she with black folks?”

            “I don’t know.  I’d say ambivalent?”

            “Well, that’s better than most.”

            Beth hears Benny come in the front door.  “That’s Benny now, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

            “Alright.  Talk to you later.”

            Benny walks into the kitchen, mail clutched in one hand, and he makes a face when he detects the distinct smell of hard-boiling eggs.  “I thought when you’re pregnant, you’re supposed to get cravings for new foods.”

            “I like eggs,” Beth returns simply.

            “Yeah.  I know. That’s pretty much all you ate back in New York.  Who was that on the phone?”

            “Jolene.  She was inviting us to her and Rick’s housewarming this weekend,” Beth says. She remembers Jolene’s offer to bring Mrs. Watts with them next time they visit, and she asks, “Hey, your mom’s not a racist, right?”

            Benny had been going through the mail and he looks up with surprise.  “Why does this feel like a trick question?”

            “It’s not.  I was talking to Jolene about us coming over after we get your mom settled, and she said we could bring her along, too.”

            “I’m pretty sure she’s not racist.”

            Beth nods, walking past him to check on the eggs.  “Good.”

            Benny blinks rapidly and echoes his own good before continuing to go through the mail.

            Beth is grateful that she and Benny have a chess tournament to take up some of their weekend in New York, because the minute they arrive at Mrs. Watts’ house, she and Cal are already arguing.  By that point, they had cleaned the house of all liquor, but considering the stress of dealing with her two sons, particularly the older one, Beth couldn’t have entirely blamed Mrs. Watts for taking a nip.

            “You don’t need two bibles, Ma,” Cal says, holding up one of the holy books. “It’s just a waste of space.”

            “The holy word is not a waste of space,” Mrs. Watts says, snatching the book back.

            “When you have it twice, yeah, it sort of is.”

            Mrs. Watts gives her elder son a withering glare.  “Considering how seriously you took your altar boy duties, I should have known you’d turn out like this.”

            Beth and Benny watch from the side, and she remarks, “I didn’t know you mother was so religious.”

            Benny nods.  “She always has been.  Church every Sunday.  Prayers before meals and bedtime.”

            Beth looks over at him.  “Somehow I can’t picture you in a church.”

            “I used to just plot out chess games on the back of the chronicle.”

            “That makes more sense.”  Beth looks down at her watch.  “We should head out soon.  The tournament starts at ten.” 

            Benny nods and walks over to his warring family.  Cal was currently yelling about his altar boy days, and Benny says, “Enough!  Cal, just let her take the two bibles.  It’s five extra pounds that you won’t even be lifting, so let it go.  And Mom, no one at St. Catherine’s took their altar boy duties seriously.  We all just did it for the free wine.”  Mrs. Watts gasps.  “So, how about you lay off him?”

            Benny walks off without another word, and Beth claps her hand on his shoulder. “That seems like it went well.”

            Just like the Cincinnati tournament from a few years prior, the New York Invitational is held at a local college, students mixing with the chess elite in the dining hall.  Beth gets herself a quick bagel with cream cheese for before her game, and when a group of students stare at her, she thinks they recognize her until she realizes their gaze is at her stomach, not her face.  That tended to happen a lot.  At about five months, she seemed to have grown three sizes, and then suddenly the round protrusion became a point of interest.  People stared.  They asked to touch her stomach.  She never quite understood that last one, and she was always too surprised when someone asked to do anything other than blankly nod, wondering what could be so wondrous about putting a hand on a stranger’s belly.

            Benny joins Beth with his cup of coffee and they trade briefly, Beth taking a sip of coffee and Benny a bite of bagel, before they trade back.  The tournament is being held in the student union, a short walk from the dining hall, and they take their time, the March weather unseasonably warm.  When they get inside, they head straight to the registration table and the man working there looks in quick succession from Benny, Beth’s stomach, and then Beth, herself.

            “Welcome to the New York Invitational,” he says.  “It’s an honor to have you both here, Mr. and Mrs. Watts.”

            While Benny nods, Beth corrects him with, “It’s Beth Harmon.  I kept my last name.”

            This was the third tournament she’d had to correct people about keeping her last name.  Was it really that difficult to remember?

            “Right, of course,” the man says, cheeks flushing.  “I’ll just make a quick note.”  He scribbles something down – what Beth can’t see – and he hands them the materials for the games.

            “Mr. Watts, you are at table 7.  Ms. Harmon, you are over at table 12.”

            As they walk away, Beth irritably says, “I marry you on a whim in Vegas and they completely forget everything else.”

            Benny lets out a short laugh, the type that doesn’t completely make its way out, and says, “A whim, huh?”

            “You know what I mean,” Beth says. 

            “I can always divorce you.  Then you’ll get your name back.”

            Beth grins, knocking her arm against his, and then they are at the table setup, Beth’s eyes scanning over the labyrinth of tables until she found hers. She looks longingly back at his coffee and he says, “You’ll have to use the bathroom ten minutes into the game.”

            “I already will have to do that,” she says.

            He smiles slightly.  “Fine, take it.  I’ll finish the bagel.”

            They make one final trade, Beth tipping her head back as she finishes the drink, and then she tells Benny, “I’ll see you after the games.”

            “You too.”

            When she turns, he takes a hold of her arm and tugs her back, giving her a quick kiss.  They usually don’t do this at tournaments, and when her eyes question him he just shrugs and says, “For luck?”

            Beth grins and reminds him, “You don’t believe in luck.”

            Benny answers with a cheeky grin and heads off to his table.

            Beth’s first competitor is a nervous talker.

            “How far along are you?” he asks.

            “Five months.”

            “My wife had a baby recently.  Last year.  Although, I suppose it’s not that recent if it’s a year ago.  Time really flies.”

            Beth nods blankly.  “Yes.”

            “Will you still play after you have the baby?”

            “That’s the plan.”

            “The sleepless nights are the worst.  In the beginning, I don’t think my wife and I slept for a month.  I could barely tell a rook from a pawn.”

            The start of play is announced, and Beth deftly reaches forward and starts his clock.  She’s relieved for the silence, and wins the game in forty-three moves.

            When there’s a break, she goes over to Benny and tells him about her game.

            “At first, I thought he was just a nervous talker, but I actually think he was trying to psych me out.”

            “Did it work?”

            “Of course not,” Beth says swiftly.  “He thinks I’ll lose my edge.”

            “You won’t,” Benny assures her.

            “I wonder if other people think that, too.”

            “Who cares if they do?  You keep winning and they’ll have nothing to say.”

            Beth crosses her arms over her chest.  “I could be two months without sleep and I’d stillbe able to tell a rook from a pawn.”

           The games close for the day and Beth and Benny drive over to his mother’s house to help with the final stretch of packing.  Mrs. Watts and Cal aren’t speaking, but they put aside the fighting at least for a dinner, and then Beth and Benny drive back to his apartment. It was a long day, and Beth falls asleep almost the minute her head touches the pillow.  She wakes up to the smell of coffee, and Benny makes her the usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. 

            “Who are you playing today again?”  Benny asks.

            “Gorsky.  I swear, I see him everywhere now.  I wonder if he’ll try to psych me out, too.”

            “He’s too afraid of you.”

            Beth takes a bite of toast.  “What about you?”

            “Bellerton.”

            “That’ll be easy,” Beth says.  Bellerton had routinely placed in the bottom-half of competitions.  He would be no match for Benny.

            “He’s gotten better since Orlando.”

            Beth looks over at him with surprise.  “Are you concerned?”

            “Not really, but with everything going on this weekend, I’m not exactly in the best headspace.”

            Beth learned over time that Benny wasn’t quite as good at blocking out the rest of the world during chess as she was, but he rarely admitted it. 

            “You’ll beat him,” she says firmly, believing enough in him for the both of them.

            “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” he asks after a pause.

            “With your mother?”  He nods. “It’s a little late to back out now.”

            He nods and runs his hand through his hair, stopping at the back and giving it a bit of a shake.  “Anyway, we should get going.”

            Despite Benny’s concerns about being distracted, he sails through his games and then it’s the final game, Benny and Beth seated across each other at the lone board left for play.  A camera bulb goes off somewhere to her left.  Benny starts her timer and they’re off to the races, playing with a practiced ease that she never quite managed with other players. 

            It’s difficult to surprise your spouse, but Benny does so in the endgame, bringing his rook over to E8 for reasons entirely unclear to his wife. She studies the board for a good fifteen minutes, hands folded under her chin, before she sees it.  It was a good move.  A marvelouslygood move.  She has one potential road to recovery, but it would leave her Queen unprotected and she knew Benny would see that.  She chooses to retreat, pulling a pawn back to D1, and he immediately advances on her.  The game is over and she turns her king onto its side. 

            Benny extends his hand and she shakes it, the lightbulbs flashing all around them.  She walks off, glancing back over her shoulder to see him waving at the cameras with a relaxed grin.  The win had done him good, and as much as Beth hated losing, it hurt a bit less when she lost to her husband.  When Benny joins her again, she says, “Rook to E8.  I didn’t see that coming.”

            “I didn’t either until the moment right before.”

            He’s exhilarated, like a boxer after a fight, and she reaches up and tugs his face down to hers.  There’s another flash of a bulb.

            Beth pulls away, her face still close to his, and says, “If this is on the cover of chess review next month, I’m going to be really pissed.”

            “Beth Harmon congratulates her husband on an astounding win,” Benny teases.

            “At least they’d get my name right.”

Chapter Text

“That’s it.  Big smiles, both of you.  Perfect. Now, Benny, why don’t you put your hand on her stomach?”

             Benny acquiesces, folding his palm over his wife’s large belly.  He figures the more he complies, the sooner this will all be over. Beth thinks along the same line, which is why she smiles wide and tilts her head just so.  While both had been partial to media coverage when they were younger, the stress of impending parenthood and looking after Benny’s mother made them both forget about the interview with Chess Review they scheduled months ago, and fervently wish for its end.  They weren’t even in the home stretch.  The photographer was up first, the journalist politely poring over her notes as she waited.  Beth spotted at least five pages of questions.  It was going to be a long afternoon.

            “Beth, look over at him now,” the photographer instructs, clicking away at the camera.  “Just like he’s the greatest trophy you’ve ever won.  There it is.

            Beth stares somewhere just above Benny’s eye, knowing that if they were to actually make eye contact they both would start laughing from the sheer absurdity of it all.  When the photographer finished, Benny says in a low voice, “Did I hear him right, or did he compare me to a trophy?”

            “The greatest trophy I’ve ever won,” Beth corrects, tucking his hair behind his ear. “He’s clearly never seen the one from Russia.”

            Benny laughs, and it reminds her very much of how she would rather have been spending this time with just him, instead of with a photographer and journalist. Since their return to New York, it had dawned on her just how little time they had before the baby came.  They had so little time to just be them, and she hates giving it up like this.  But, a scheduled interview is a scheduled interview.

            “So, how are you both feeling?  It’s an exciting time, isn’t it?”  the journalist asks, sitting across from them.  Her name is Poppy and both Benny and Beth are familiar with her from their previous articles in Chess Review.

            “The most exciting,” Benny says.

            “Absolutely,” Beth echoes. 

            Maybe if they just agree with everything she says, they can be done in under a half-hour.

            “Beth, you look absolutely radiant.  Being pregnant definitely suits you.”

            “I guess it does.”

            “So, tell me, how is it being pregnant at tournaments?”

            Beth feels her normal flare of indignation at such a gendered question, but she supposes this time it is a bit different.  A female competitor had been rare, but a pregnant one was non-existent.  She heard the chatter when people first learned about her pregnancy and their base assumption that she would retire, as if the concept of a woman playing chess and growing a child at the same were somehow incongruent.

            “I use the bathroom a lot more,” Beth says.

             Poppy smiles blandly, clearly not impressed by the answer, and asks more pointedly, “Do you feel you are treated differently?”

            Beth presses her lips together.  She forgot how good Poppy was.

            “I think sometimes people think they should treat me differently,” Beth says.  “Or that I am somehow different.  But then it all turns out the same.”

            Poppy is looking down at her notebook when she asks, “And how is that?”  

            “I still win.”

            Poppy looks up with an appraising grin.  “That you do.  So, what are your plans for after the baby is born?”

            “We’ll have to take some time off the circuit,” Benny says reasonably.  “But, we don’t plan to be gone for long.”

            “So, you both will continue to play?”

            Benny looks over at Beth and nods.  “Yeah, we both will.  That’s a non-negotiable.  We have help here, thankfully.  My mom just moved in to lend a hand.”

            As if on cue, Mrs. Watts appears with a tray of cookies.  While Beth and Benny had been unenthused about the interview, Mrs. Watts could not have been more excited.  She had already stopped in on two separate occasions, first to ask if anyone wanted a drink and then with a tray of sandwiches that she said they could “nosh” on as they talked.  Beth wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman was waiting for a mention before making her third grand entrance.

            “Just something sweet for the afternoon,” Mrs. Watts says, trying to take a look at Polly’s notes. 

            “Thank you, Mrs. Watts,” Polly says, covering her paper with her hand.

            “If you need anything else-“

            Benny interrupts with, “Mom, I think we’re good.”

            “-I’ll be in the kitchen,” Mrs. Watts finishes, giving Polly one last smile before she disappears from the room. 

            “Your mother is an interesting woman,” Polly says.  “Where is she from again?”

            “New York,” Benny says.  “My whole family’s up there.  Well, just my brother.  But that’s pretty much the rest of my family.”

            Polly doesn’t ask about Beth’s family, because she already knows the answer.  She shifts into more questions about the future of chess for them, laughing when Beth says, “At a certain point, too, we’ll probably just bring our daughter to tournaments.”

            “Starting them young, huh?”

            “It’ll be the Watts chess dynasty,” Benny jokes.

            “Harmon-Watts,” Beth corrects.

            “Well, dynasty isn’t the wrong way to put it,” Polly says.  She puts the cap on her pen, a sure sign that the interview is winding down.  “You two really are unique.  Such gifted players on your own coming together.  I don’t think your daughter has any choice but to be a chess prodigy.”

            Beth knows that the journalist meant it as a joke, but something in her bristles at her words.  She didn’t like the idea of her daughter being forced into anything, even chess.  But then the woman is standing, thanking them for their time, and she is gone. 

            Benny looks over at Beth and says, “That wasn’t too bad, right?”

            “We survived.”

            They head back into the kitchen for some water, where Mrs. Watts sits at the table and anxiously asks them, “Do you think anything I said will make it into the article?”

            That evening, with her head resting on Benny’s chest, Beth thinks of what the journalist said before about their daughter having no choice but to be a chess prodigy, and she asks, “What will we do if she doesn't like chess?”

            “What?”

            “Our daughter.  What do we do if she doesn't like chess?”

            “Well, considering she’s not even born yet, I don’t think we have to worry about that now.”

            “But, it’s a possibility,” Beth continues.  “Just because we were chess prodigies doesn’t mean she will, too.”

            In fact, part of Beth hoped that her methodical mind wouldn’t pass down to her daughter.  Maybe if that skipped a generation, everything else that went with it would, too. But still, it was hard to imagine a world where their daughter would be removed from something that so entirely filled her parents’ life.

            “I think we let her decide what she likes herself,” Benny says.  “Just like we figured out what we liked.”

            Beth still remembered the joy of her discovery.  The drafty basement, with Mr. Schiable sitting across from her at the checkered board.  She could picture him demonstrating how to move the pieces, and her frustration when he would abruptly end a lesson, telling her, “Not today.”   But, she always knew there would be more tomorrow.  Like pieces of a puzzle coming together until she could finally see the full picture.  And, oh, how thrilling it had been when she did.

            “I hope she finds something,” Beth murmurs.  “Whatever it is.”

            The article was slated to appear in the next month’s Chess Review and when it arrives in the mail, Beth laughs out loud.  Of all the photos taken that day – and there had been many during that painstakingly long photo session – the editors chose for the cover a photograph of Beth gazing admiringly over at Benny.  Below them in bold it states:

Benny Watts and Elizabeth Harmon:

The King and Queen of Chess

             “Hey, look at that,” Benny says over her shoulder.  “They got your last name right.”

            “Of all the photos, they had to choose that one?”

            “What’s wrong with the photo?”  Benny asks.

            “I look like an adoring fan.”

            Benny raises an eyebrow and she hits his arm.

            “It’s marvelous,” Mrs. Watts says, already quickly leafing through the magazine to get to the article.  “We should pick up some more copies from the drug store.”             

Chapter Text

Beth had been relatively calm during her pregnancy. Given her history, she was fairly adroit at navigating change.  She didn’t panic or dwell.  Rather, she adapted.  However, even her steel nerves were put to the test when she was tasked both with bedrest and acclimating to her mother-in-law.  It started with a routine doctor’s appointment, Dr. Woodland uncharacteristically quiet as the blood pressure cuff loosened around her arm. 

            “Your blood pressure is a little high for my liking,” he said.  “But, it may just be nerves.  I’ll take it again at the end of the visit.”

            Beth hadn’t, in fact, been nervous, but she was when the cuff tightened around her bicep a second time.  She looked over to Benny for some sort of reassurance, but he was watching the cuff squeeze her arm like a snake.  The cuff loosened and she felt her pulse deep in her arm, like a betrayal.  

            “You’re still a bit high,” Dr. Woodland said.  “Just to be safe, I’m going to run some tests, okay?”

            One vial of blood and a cup of urine later, Dr. Woodland diagnosed her with preeclampsia and given how close she was to her due date, he recommended bed rest. Benny hovered.  As did his mother.  Beth saw where he got that now.

            “You should drink prune juice,” Mrs. Watts says, forcing a glass into Beth’s hand. “I drank prune juice every morning during my pregnancies with Benny and Cal.”

            “I don’t really like prunes,” Beth says diplomatically.  To be more exact, she thinks they are disgusting, but she didn’t think that distinction necessarily needed to be communicated to her mother in law.

            Mrs. Watts purses her lips into a frown.  The expression emphasizes where she overdrew her lips with lipstick. “It’s not about what you’re a fan of. It’s about what’s best for your baby.”

            Beth sits up with effort in her bed.  “I want what’s best for my baby.  But, I’m also not going to drink prune juice just because you say so.”

            “I’m not just saying so,” Mrs. Watts returns.  “I’m speaking from experience, Beth.  Something where, in this situation, you have none.”

            Benny walks in with a chess board, immediately sensing the tension and he looks between his mother and wife.  “Everything okay in here?”

            “Please tell your mother I am not drinking that prune juice.”

            “Mom, I asked you to knock it off with that,” Benny says wearily.

            “I drank prune juice with both you and Cal, and I was never put on bed rest.”

            “Well, congratulations, you have a better womb than mine,” Beth says loudly.

            Mrs. Watts shakes her head.  “Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you even asked me to come here.”

            Beth was about to say that it was because her son was concerned she would drink herself into a corner, but Benny spoke first.  Probably for the best.

            “Mom, we appreciate you being here, but I don’t think Beth is drinking the prune juice.  So, why don’t we move on?”

            Mrs. Watts responded by taking the glass back without a word and leaving the room. Beth looks over at Benny and says, “I’m pretty sure your Mom thinks that this is my fault.”

            “It’s not your fault.  Dr. Woodland said preeclampsia is pretty common, remember?”

            “Does she really think I want to be on bedrest?”  Beth continues irritably as she sets up the chess board on the bed.  “The Kentucky State Championship is in two weeks.  I’m not defending my title because of this.”

            Benny lines up the row of pawns on his side of the board.  “To be fair, I don’t think you’d be defending your title anyway.  It’s the week you’re due.”

            “Matt told me that all the competitors are relieved I won’t be there,” she says. 

"Well, if they want to win, that makes sense."

            They start a game and Beth tries to lose herself in the 64 squares, but her mind is too stuffed with worries and thoughts and everything in between.  She bounces from concerns about if she will actually be able to continue competing, to whether she will be a good mother, and if she cannot be a good mother, then what even is the point of all of this. Benny captures one of her bishops with his rook in a move that she should have blocked, but didn’t.

            “Beth, you okay?”

            “How am I supposed to be a mother when I can’t even get this part right?”

            “Beth.”  She can hear the pain in his voice.  She knows it hurts him to see her like this, but she needs him too much to shield him. 

            “This is the easy part.  All I really have to do is let my body do what it was made to do, and I’m already failing.  What will happen when I’m actually the one in charge?”

            “You’ll figure it out like everyone else,” Benny says.  “And what is happening right now isn’t your fault.”

            “I know,” Beth says, pressing her thumb against the top of her king-piece. “But your mother thinks it is.”

            “My mother likes to have something to judge.  It used to be Cal.  Before that, my dad.”

            “Never you?”

            “Well, of course not.  I’m perfect.”

            Beth smiles for what feels like the first time in days.  “I just want to get this right.”

            “I know you do.”

            She pauses and adds, “And I really want to defend my title.”

            “I know you do,” Benny echoes.  “But, there’s no way.”

            That evening while Benny snores softly beside her, Beth stares up at the ceiling.  Her insomnia started a few weeks earlier, a common development later in pregnancy, according to Dr. Woodland.  Beth found it particularly cruel that in the last few weeks of uninterrupted sleep, she couldn’t seem to find any.  However, during those sleepless nights, she got to thinking.  She had no concrete way of ensuring she was a good mother.  It was a roll of dice, and arguably a loaded one considering her gene pool.  But, she could work out a way to defend her title. When she told Benny her plan, he was not pleased. 

            “You want to do what?” he asks sharply.

            “I checked with Dr. Woodland, and bedrest just means that he doesn’t want me on my feet.  If I’m in a wheelchair, I’m not on my feet but I can still play.”

            “Where do you expect to get a wheelchair?”

            “Mary Bleeker next door already offered to loan me the one they had for her father.”

            “And who will push you around the tournament?”

            “You.”

            Benny shakes his head, pushing his fingers through his hair.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “My entire life is about to change, Benny.”

            “And you think mine isn’t?”

            “Not in the same way,” Beth says, her voice cracking.  “I feel like this is the last chance for me to be me.  Please let me have this.”

            Benny is quiet, and for a moment she still thinks he is going to say no, but then he sighs and says, “You better win after all of this.”

            She smiles, relief flooding her chest.  “I’m counting on it.”

            Mrs. Watts couldn’t understand how Beth and Benny could possibly be going to a chess tournament the week of Beth’s due date – and frankly, both Beth and Benny couldn’t blame her for that – but at the last minute she made them both sandwiches, telling Benny, “Make sure she eats a little something every few hours.”

            If Beth had gotten looks before, it was nothing compared to the looks Benny wheeling her around the tournament garnered.  Mike and Matt meet them up at registration, and the former smiles wide as he said, “Harmon, you are huge.”

            “Thanks.  That’s what a woman always likes to hear.”

            “Bennett was pissed when he heard you were coming after all,” Matt says.  “He thought he had today in the bag.”

            “We’re glad you’re here,” Mike says brightly.  “It makes our pool a lot cleaner.”

            Benny laughs with surprise and asks, “You guys are betting on the games?”

            “Yeah, of course,” Matt returns.  “And before Beth was coming, some of the games were a little dicey. But, you’ve really balanced the board.”

            “Well, happy to help.”

            “You’re up with Nichols first over at Table 18,” Matt says. 

            Mike leans in and conspiringly says, “It should be a quick game.”

            After a few more minutes of chit chat, Benny wheels Beth over to the table and takes out a bag of grapes.  Before she can say anything, Benny says, “A condition of you coming here is that you don’t fight me on stuff like this, remember?”
            Beth nods and holds out her hand.  “Grape, please.”

            Benny grins and gives her three, watching her happily pop them into her mouth. She looks more content than she has in weeks, and in seeing her like this, Benny feels himself relax, too.  He still wasn’t convinced this was the best idea, but it would only be for the day.  And besides, he stashed Beth’s hospital bag in the trunk of his car in case they had any surprises.

            Benjamin Nichols was known as an uncomfortable chess player, but he also had a lesser known discomfort with pregnant women, which makes the game with Beth particularly challenging for him.  Throughout the game, he keeps looking uneasily at her stomach, oftentimes startled when Beth reaches over and decisively starts his clock.  She beats him in twenty-three moves, easily advancing to the next game. 

            The string of players after Benjamin Nichols are decreasingly impressive, and Beth wonders if it was her or if the Kentucky talent pool had really shrunk that much.  She beats Robert Landon with a rook-knight fork that she would have spotted as a child. Cary Brighton pays too much attention to her bishops, missing the steady advancement of her queen’s knight that steals his queen, leaving his king defenseless to her rook.  George Stanford is all pawns and no hope.  Nicholas Trout is all hope and no pawns. 

            Finally, it is the final game.  Beth versus Edward Bennett.  Before the game, Benny insists that Beth eat half a sandwich and an entire cup of decaffeinated tea.  When she’s finished, he gives her a quick kiss and says, “Now go beat him.”

            There was a reason it all came down to her and Edward Bennett.  He was a strong player, with a style reminiscent of the best parts of both Beltik and Benny.  In short, he was a contender.  But, so was Beth. 

            The game starts off slowly.  Beth attacks as usual, but Bennett is methodical.  He doesn’t match her aggression, instead slowly parsing out his pieces in a manner that gives Beth pause.  She can see how the game is unfurling, but his approach makes her double and triple-check her calculations.  She moves her rook deftly to C6 and after a pause, he takes the piece with his bishop, just as she predicted.  She looks across the board when a sudden pain shoots through her pelvis.  She grips the edge of the table tightly - so tightly that Bennett looks up at her with confusion.

            Beth had never experienced labor before, but is fairly certain that she is becoming acquainted with the process as another cramp seeds into the area just above her hip.  She reminds herself what Dr. Woodland told her about labor, and how the first phase can last anywhere from six to twenty hours.  She moves her rook up two spaces. 

            Beth had played chess in various states over the years, but playing while in labor was probably the most extreme.  To her credit, no one seems to notice except for Benny.  She made the mistake of making eye contact with him after a move and she could tell immediately that he knew.  Bennett asks to take a break about three hours in, and Benny immediately walks over and rolls her away from the table.

            “You need to resign the game.”

            “No, I don’t,” she holds stubbornly.  “My contractions are fifteen minutes apart.”

            “Beth-“

            “Dr. Woodland told us to not even go to the hospital until they are closer to five minutes apart.”

            “Fine,” Benny says.  “But, you’re taking a break in an hour and telling me how far apart your contractions are, okay?”

            Beth nods.  “Okay.”

            An hour later, little progress has been made in either the game or Beth’s labor. The contractions are still about fifteen minutes apart.  She has only managed to capture one of Bennett’s pawns and gained no further advantages on the board.  And so, the game and labor continue.  An hour later, she’s down to approximately twelve minutes.  Bennett has control of the center of the board.  An hour later, Beth has his Queen cornered, but he finds an escape. Her contractions are ten minutes apart. In the last hour, things happen quickly. Bennett loses track of her knight on the board, a critical error that allows her to take his last rook and pin his King between her Queen and an unassuming pawn.  And her contractions rapidly pick up speed.  She’s at seven minutes.  Then six.  She loses count when she captures his Queen, and then it’s suddenly four.

            Fuck.

            For once, Bennett makes his move swiftly.  But, Beth’s attention is no longer on the game.  She looks up with a stricken expression, immediately meeting Benny’s eyes.  She wants to win this game – needs to win it – but in that moment, she feels another instinct.  Without hesitation, she reaches across the table and says, “I resign.”

            Bennet is confused, but then Benny is pulling her away from the table and her competitor can tell from the harried look on Benny’s face what is happening.

            “You were in labor during all of that?” he asks incredulously.

            Beth smiles weakly.  “I’ll see you next year.”          

            Benny and Beth don’t talk as they quickly go to his car.  He gently deposits her in the front seat and then he folds up the wheelchair and stashes it in the back of the car.  He swings the driver’s seat door open and gets in, jamming the key into the ignition.  The car makes a sort of whirring noise, but doesn’t turn over.  He tries again.

            “Fuck.”   His hand slams hard on the steering wheel.  “Stay here.”

            Beth wanted to tell him that she had nowhere else to go, but honestly, she is too scared to speak.  The contractions seem to have doubled in both quantity and pain.  She feels a mixture of fear and guilt spread through her body until she is absolutely paralyzed by it.  Why had she done this?  She should have been home in bed, not at a chess tournament pretending she wasn’t nine months pregnant.

            Benny returns with the twins, which somehow makes the entire situation seem even worse to her.  Mike grabs the wheelchair from the back and Benny and Matt help her out of the car when she feels something warm trickle down her leg.

            “My water just broke,” she bites out, beginning to cry.  “My water broke!”

            “I don’t think she’s going to make it to the hospital, Benny,” Mike says.

            “Put her in the backseat,” Matt says immediately.  “She shouldn’t be standing.”

            Beth wants to know why she can’t go in the wheelchair, but she’s too far gone to articulate that, and instead lets the men maneuver her onto the back seat. Everything is happening quickly, and she dimly hears Matt say, “We’ve delivered babies before.  Well, technically it was a calf.  But, the mechanics are pretty much the same.”

            “No, I don’t want that,” Beth says loudly.  “I don’t want either of you between my legs!”   

            But, she can already feel an intense pressure building at the base of her spine, and while she has never given birth before, she instinctively knows that this is the time.  And she and Benny have absolutely no idea how to birth anything.  She hears the door behind her open and then Benny is behind her, holding onto her.

            “I don't think we have many other options here, Beth.”

            “I’m sorry,” she cries.  “I’m sorry that I made us come here.  And that I’m giving birth in the back of your car.”

            “It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.  There is little time for propriety while giving birth in the back of a car, so she gets rid of any impediments to her daughter’s birth, keeping her skirt as in place as possible under the circumstances, and grips Benny’s hand so tightly that her knuckles go white.  Mike tells her to push and she does just that, the pain blinding. But, she does it again.  And again.  The pain and pressure reach a sort of excruciating crescendo, and then she hears her daughter cry.  It’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

            There’s an old shirt of Benny’s that was wedged under her and Mike grabs it, swaddling the baby in it before handing her to Beth.  In her darker moments, Beth had been worried that she wouldn’t feel anything at this moment.  That somehow, the maternal gene would also skip her generation.  But when she gazes down at her daughter, she feels a love so pure that it almost hurts as much as it soothes.

            “Hi,” she murmurs, wiping at her daughter’s face with the shirt.  She wants to say more, but she can’t speak.  She is too overwhelmed with love and gratitude and how she could have possibly created something so absolutely perfect. When she looks up at Benny, he is similarly at a loss of words.  And so, she looks back down at her daughter, wanting to remember every single detail of this moment.  The shrill tenor of her cry.  Benny’s arm pressed against hers as he cradles their daughter’s head.  Even the twins, grinning wide like they had also just gained a family member.  It is all perfect in a way that Beth didn’t think she would have been able to comprehend five minutes earlier.  Everything had changed.  And for the first time, Beth lets herself think – for the better.

Chapter Text

Within the first few days of being a mother, Beth learned that parenthood was a rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows.  At one moment, she felt such love and gratitude for her daughter that it was blinding to anything else, but then at another moment, often without warning, an equally blinding force descended.  The frequency of those other moments steadily increased until she was lying awake at night, fostering resentment toward her peacefully sleeping husband as their daughter cried. 

            Nothing was going right.  That initial flush of affection for her daughter had been a ruse, because in turn, her daughter seemed to want nothing to do with her.  She cried incessantly and loudly, only calming at either Benny or Mrs. Watt’s touch.  She even rejected Beth’s most primitive offering, refusing to latch onto her breast for feeding.  Mrs. Watts told her not to be upset by it, that sometimes breastfeeding did not work, but Beth felt her old insecurities reappear and firmly root themselves in the forefront of her mind.  She took Mrs. Watts’ words as yet another recrimination of her parenting and swiftly shut her out, and when Benny tried to defend his mother, she did the same to him. Neither of them understood, Benny especially.  He didn’t know what it felt like to carry another person around for nine-months and then have them choose someone else.  She thought of her daughter’s namesake, Alma Wheatley, and feels a longing so distinct that it is almost tactile.

            One afternoon, Beth locks herself in the bathroom after refusing to hold Alma. She should have gone to the bedroom, but the bathroom was closer, and she just needed to get away from Benny and his good-natured pleading.  Alma, of course, screams in Benny’s arms, no doubt anticipating the transfer from her perfect father to her imperfect mother.  Benny doesn’t understand.  None of them understand.

            “I don’t know what to do,” Benny tells his mother.  “I can’t get through to her.”

            “It’s difficult for a woman when she first becomes a mother.  All the hormones.  Sometimes, it gets sorted out and other times…”

            “What do I do?”

            “You should call Dr. Woodland.”

            Beth keeps a list of everything going wrong.  It’s tucked away in her nightstand drawer, hidden just enough to be out of sight but still recoverable if anyone did the slightest bit of searching. And, let them find it.  Maybe then they would understand.  Each night she updates it, and when Benny tells her he called Dr. Woodland without consulting her and thinks she should see him, she starts another list.  This time, it’s her grievances.  There’s a tidy list for Benny.  Another for Mrs. Watts.  The grievances largely range from petty to mundane, but on occasion, something deeper emerges.  Sandwiched between cramped scrawls about Benny’s sleeping habits, Beth writes: Why doesn’t he see me?

            One week later, Beth and Benny go to Dr. Woodland’s office for a routine postnatal visit.  When Dr. Woodland asks how everything is going, Beth blandly returns that everything is fine.  Inside, she is screaming, but translating that into comprehensible words feels like too much effort.  Dr. Woodland eyes her warily and says, “Benny told me that you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

            “I sleep fine now.”

            “She sleeps all day,” Benny says in a low voice.

            “That’s because I didn’t sleep for months,” Beth returns sharply.  “And now, when I can, our daughter wakes me up every few hours.”

            “How are you connecting with Alma?”  Dr. Woodland asks.

            The truth feels too shameful to admit, because what mother doesn’t connect with her daughter, so Beth shrugs and says, “We’re connecting fine.”

            “Are you breastfeeding?”

            Beth inhales sharply.  “No. She won’t latch on to my breast.”

            “We tried pumping, but she wasn’t producing enough milk,” Benny says.  “So, we’re using formula.”

            “Do you both feed her?”

            Beth immediately answers yes, but then Benny says, “Only I feed her.”

            She looks over at him accusingly.  So much for them being a united front.  Benny ignores her, though, which seems par the course as of late, and says, “Beth won’t hold her.”

            “It’s a little hard to hold her when she won’t stop crying.”

            “It’s natural for a baby to cry at Alma’s age,” Dr. Woodland says calmly.  “Each day, she’s having hundreds of new experiences.”

            Beth bitterly thinks that it’s so nice how her daughter is given such understanding, when she is afforded none of the same.

            “Well, it seems like she only has those experiences with me.”

            Dr. Woodland studies her for a long while, and then says, “Beth, are you familiar with the term post-partum depression?”

            Beth bristles.  “I’m not depressed.”

            “Many women suffer from post-partum depression.  It’s very common given the hormonal adjustments that occur after giving birth. Couple that with the sleep deprivation-”

            “I’m not depressed,” Beth repeats sharply.

            “Beth, please just listen to him,” Benny says softly.  “Something isn’t right.”

            For once, her husband is right, but instead of focusing on the real root of the problem, he predictably turns it onto her.

            “Beth, you are clearly struggling.  Which is understandable, but there are ways we can help you.  I would recommend a low dose of Tofranil.  It’s an anti-depressant that should help take some of the edge off.”

            “No,” Beth says immediately, feeling panic rise in her chest.  “I can’t take pills.”

            Dr. Woodland looks at her curiously and says, “They are very safe.  They have minimal side effects.”

            Beth hadn’t shared her substance abuse history with Dr. Woodland, and now hardly seems the time.  Instead, she stands up and says, “I think we’re done here.”

            That evening, Benny confronts Beth about not taking the pills, and she says, “You don’t understand.”

            “Then help me,” he says, kneeling next to her side of the bed.  “Help me understand, Beth.  Because I know you’ve been struggling these last few weeks, and now you have a way to fix it and you won’t do it.”

            “You know I’ve used pills to fix things before, and they don’t work.  I’m enough of a failure right now without adding them into the mix.”

            “You’re not a failure.”

            “Oh, really?  Our daughter hates me and I’m not even so sure I like her, either.”

            “She does not hate you, and you love our daughter.  You’re just going through a tough time right now.”

            “A tough time,” Beth repeats, laughing humorlessly at how inadequate those words were for what she was going through.  “This is hell, Benny.  All of it. Each morning I wake up, hoping it will get better, and it’s not.  I just feel empty and angry.  I’m so angry.”   

            She pulls out the notebook from her nightstand and puts it on the bed between them. “Do you know I actually started writing lists of everything I hate about you and your mother?  When I can’t sleep at night, this is what I do.  I even started a list for Alma.”

            “Beth-“

            She pushes the notebook toward him.  “I started a list about things I hate about my one month old daughter.  I’m not meant for this, Benny.”

            “This isn’t you,” he says, and it breaks her heart not for its truth, but for its innate misunderstanding.

            “It is me,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.  “Why can’t you see that?”

            The next day, Beth falls asleep somewhere around lunchtime and wakes up after the sun has already set. The room is dark and she blinks slowly, sitting up.  Her stomach rumbles, but she has no desire to eat.  She sinks back into the mattress and falls back asleep.  A few hours later, she wakes up again and Benny is next to her, his arm slung over her waist.  She can tell by the cadence of his breathing that he is still awake and she turns in his arms.  He is looking down at her, his face guarded, and she pulls his mouth to hers.  She just wants to feel something other than emptiness and anger.  When he presses her back against the mattress, it is a relief to know that at least this has not changed.  She loses herself in him, letting herself imagine that there is nothing else but this moment, her face pressed against his neck and his hand between her legs.  When they are finished, she curls herself around him, her head resting on his chest.

            “I wrote you a list,” he says.

            “You did?”

            He reaches over to his nightstand and hands her the notebook.  She hesitates before opening it and says, “You really want me to read all the things you hate about me?”

            “It’s not that sort of list.  Although, yours was pretty enlightening.  I’ll try to chew quieter, by the way.”

            “I’m sorry,” Beth says softly.

            Benny pauses, and his voice is thick when he says, “So am I.  I do see you, Beth.  It may not seem that way, but I do.  Or at least I try to.”

            “I know.”

            “Read my list.”

            Beth opens up the notebook, her fingers not cooperating as she turns the pages, and then her handwriting turns into his.  At the top of the page, in all-caps, he wrote: ALL THE THINGS YOU ARE.

            Below, he filled the page with a list of everything that Beth was to him. Some were funny.  Others introspective.  At the bottom he wrote, My reason for everything.

            “I love you, Beth.  But, I’m worried about you.  I can see you digging yourself deeper into this hole, and I’m afraid at some point you’ll be too deep for me to help you.”

            “It’s not that bad.”

            He takes the notebook from her and wordlessly turns to the third page, pointing to a passage int he middle of the page.  She quietly reads her own words.  She doesn’t remember writing them, but the words evoke a distinct ache in her chest.

I understand now why she told me to close my eyes.  I think she did, too.

Careening blindly into an end is sometimes easier than being fully awake for your present.  

            He reaches back over to the nightstand and opens the drawer, taking out a pill bottle.  It’s the medication Dr. Woodland recommended at her doctor’s visit.  She sees her name written on the bottle above the medication name. 

            “I asked him to fill the medication, just in case.  I can’t lose you, Beth.”

            Her entire being revolts at the sight of the bottle, but she can hear the way his breath has quickened, and when she looks up at him, his eyes are glassy. She realizes then that he is in pain, just like she is.  Maybe it’s time she helped them both.  Wordlessly, she takes the bottle and shakes out a pill.  She swallows it without water.

            “I love you,” she murmurs.

            The medication takes a week or so to start working and when it does, it is like coming out of a dark tunnel into full daylight.  A few weeks later, Beth is feeding Alma in the middle of the night, singing a lullaby softly as her daughter gazes up at her.  She feels content in a way that seemed impossible only a few weeks ago.  Benny lets her sleep in the next morning and she wakes up to soft sunlight filtering in through the lace curtains.  Life goes on. A few months later, Dr. Woodland discusses weaning her off of the antidepressant and she hesitantly agrees, although she fears that the darkness will return.  Thankfully, it doesn’t.  She throws away her lists, not needing a reminder of what she had gone through, but she keeps Benny’s list, putting it in a frame on her vanity.

Chapter Text

~ FIVE YEARS LATER ~

            Beth sits at a familiar board, resting her chin on her folded hands as she studies the squares laid out before her.  She can see the path to victory clearly, but there is too much uncertainty on the board for her to know exactly how it will turn out.  As it stands, Beth’s opponent is ahead and it is her opponent’s turn, which gives her another chance to achieve an even farther lead.  Her opponent reaches forward and draws a card. It’s red.  Beth frowns, watching her daughter push the gingerbread man four spaces up.

            “Your turn,” her daughter says crisply, taking a sip of her apple juice.  Chess tournaments didn’t allow beverages other than water, but for a Candyland tournament, Alma considers the apple juice indispensable.

            Beth reaches forward and takes a card.  It’s a measly yellow, which only takes her one square forward.

            Benny walks into the kitchen and takes a look at the board.  “I see this game is going about as well as usual.”

            “How do I keep losing?”  Beth says unhappily.

            Alma draws another card that takes her directly to Gumdrop Mountain.  At this rate, she’ll reach Candy Castle in another three moves.  Maybe two. Alma grins up at her mother.

            “No gloating,” Beth says lightly.  Looking over at Benny, she remarks, “She gets that from you.”

            “I don’t gloat.  I simply enjoy my wins.”

            “Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?”

            Beth draws another card, swearing under her breath when she finds herself pulled into a Molasses Swamp.  She really hated this game.

            Benny crouches next to his daughter and says, “Your mother is very bad at this game.”

            “Daddy, you’re distracting me,” Alma says with exasperation.

            “I’m sorry, kid.”  Benny says. He straightens up, and when he passes Beth he says, “That she definitely got from you.”

            Three turns later, Alma arrives at Candy Castle and stretches her hand across the board, just as her parents taught her.

            “Good game, Mommy.”

            Beth smiles, once again struck by the fact that she had made someone so absolutely perfect.  She shakes her daughter’s hand and then calls out, “Carol, you’re up.”

            Mrs. Watts comes into the kitchen and says, “Another win?  Good for you, Alma dear.”

            Beth plants her hands on the table and stands.  “I think she’s going to sweep the tournament again.”

            Mrs. Watts takes her seat.  “Well, we’ll see about that.”

            Beth ruffles Alma’s hair before she goes to find Benny, leaving Mrs. Watts to play the reigning Candyland champion.  Benny is seated on the couch reading a magazine.  He looks up at her when he hears her approach, and says, “Another crushing defeat?”

            “I swear she stacks the deck.”

            “Honestly, if she did, I’d be a little proud.”

            Beth laughs, sitting next to him.  She rests her head on his shoulder and he says, “How are you feeling about Paris next week?”

            “I’m as ready as I can be,” Beth says.  

            “Borgov is still supposed to be there, right?”

            Beth nods.  Despite both of them being relatively active after Moscow, it is the first time they are facing off since her win all those years ago.  She feels nervous, but in a less unsteadying manner than before.  The thought of him didn’t frighten her anymore.

            “Do you think Alma will like Paris?” she asks.

            “It’s the country of bread and cheese.  I don’t think she’ll want to leave.”

            “And your mom?”

            “She doesn’t mind staying here.  She says she doesn’t like the French because they wear too much black.”

            “Well, naturally.”

            “Besides, I think a little trip just the three of us would be nice.  We haven’t done that for a few years.”

            They had purposely built in a few extra days in Paris to do some exploring. Beth is particularly excited to take Alma to see the Eiffel Tower.  Cleo brought her back a small figurine of it after her last trip there, and Alma kept it next to her bed, saying goodnight to it each evening before she went to sleep.

            Benny goes back to reading his magazine, holding it so that she can read along, too.  After about twenty minutes, Alma runs into the room and exclaims, “I won again!”

            Six days later, the family is in Paris, Alma asleep in her father’s arms as they check into the hotel.  Both Beth and Benny played enough over the years to be recognized, and a few people even ask for autographs.  They make their way up to the room and Benny puts Alma down on the bed, covering her with his coat.

            Beth glances over at their daughter and says, “You should wake her.  Otherwise, she’ll be up at two in the morning.”

            “It’s okay.  I’ll get up with her.  I’m not playing, anyway.”

            Beth nods.  While they kept true to their prior intention of not having children get in the way of tournaments, at a certain point, they did recognize the virtue of having one parent available while the other competed.  And so, after a few years, they tried to only have one of them playing at a tournament, if possible.  Benny played Paris the year prior, so this year, he happily took on the parenting duties.

            They order room service and after a quiet dinner, Beth tries to get some sleep, feeling her usual pre-tournament jitters.  It takes her a while to fall asleep, but when she does she sleeps soundly, and she wakes up feeling refreshed and ready for the day.  Alma is already up and she notices Benny put her in a dress that mimics the one she had chosen for the day.  She laid her dress out the night before and she wonders if Benny had purposely matched them, grinning at the thought.  

            When they go down to where the tournament is being held, the first person that Beth sees is Borgov.  He is standing across the room with his wife, his demeanor its usual reserved and collected. He feels her gaze and looks over, offering her a small wave that she returns.  Benny walks over and lays a hand on her arm.

            “Are you ready?”

            She nods.  “Yes.”

            “I saw you have Ballister up first,” Benny says.  “He’ll be a good warmup.”

            Beth smiles slightly.  “I heard he got better after Mexico City.”

            “I saw him running pawn formations.  You don’t have to worry.”

            “Good to know.”

            Benny looks over her shoulder.  “Borgov’s here.”

            “Yeah, I saw him.”

            Benny senses her hesitation and says, “Don’t worry.  You’re going to beat him.  You’ll beat all of them.”

            The day flies by with one game after another.  Some are challenging, others less so, but by the end, Beth is relieved to head toward her family and get some rest before starting up again the next day. Benny is over by the restaurant, Alma with a piece of baguette in her hand.

            “Where did she even get that?” Beth asks.

            Alma doesn’t answer, her mouth currently full of bread.

            “She just outright asked one of the waiters.  They were so flustered, they just gave it to her.”

            Someone clears their throat behind Beth and she looks over her shoulder, surprised to see Borgov and his wife.  She immediately greets them, shaking his wife’s hand who he introduces as Katarina.

            “It’s very nice to meet you,” Beth says.

            “And you.  I have heard so much about you.”

            Alma steps to her mother’s side, baguette still clutched in her hand, and says, “Hello.  I’m Alma.”

            Borgov smiles warmly down at her.  “Hello Alma.  Tell me, how old are you?”
            “I’m five,” Alma says. 

            “You are?”  Katarina says pleasantly, crouching down to be at the young girl’s height.  “You look so grown up for five.”

            Alma nods and says, “But I am five.  And a Candyland champion.”

            Borgov chuckles.  “Is that so?”

            “We hold tournaments in our kitchen,” Beth explains with a grin.

            “It’s all very official,” Benny adds.

            Alma looks up at Borgov and asks, “Would you like to play?”

            “Oh, you don’t have to,” Beth says immediately, garnering an accusatory look from her daughter.  But, really, they were at a world chess tournament.  She doubted Borgov had the time or desire to play Candyland against her five-year-old-daughter.  However, much to her surprise, Borgov says, “I would be honored.”

            “Really?” Beth asks curiously.

            Katarina links her arm through her husband’s and says, “How can he say no to a Candyland champion?”

            Before them, Alma beams.

            When Beth packed the Candyland board in their luggage, she never could have imagined that her daughter would be playing against Vasily Borgov.  And yet, here they are, doing exactly that in her hotel room.  Alma has her requisite apple juice, and at the last moment, she insists that Borgov have a glass of water because as she puts it, “You might get thirsty.”

            Borgov tells her this is a very reasonable concern and takes the water.  Alma starts off the game and Beth watches Borgov approach the play with the same sort of intensity that he did with chess.  He draws the cards carefully, moving his gingerbread man deliberately across the squares.  When he is sucked down a cherry hole, the discontent on his face mirrors what she might have seen if someone had captured his Queen.

            Katarina sits down next to Beth and says in a low voice, “It may not look it, but your daughter is really indulging Vasily with this.  He used to play with our son, Sergei, but he’s too old now.”

            “How old is your son again?”

            “Twelve.  He’s just at the age where he wants nothing to do with either of us.”

            The game goes on, and after a particularly serendipitous draw of cards when Alma found herself sidelined in the Molasses Swamp, Borgov picks up his gingerbread man and holds it out to Alma.

            “The game is yours.  Well done.”

            Alma takes the small figurine, smiling wide.

            The next day, Beth beats him, too.

Chapter Text

           It’s somewhere around two o’clock the afternoon, and Beth is alone in the house. Mrs. Watts took Alma out to the local zoo for the afternoon – a monthly tradition now, which Alma reminds her grandmother of each month – and Benny is out picking up light bulbs for the house. Beth takes advantage of the empty house and puts Rumours on the record player, dancing around the house as she sings along, picking up Stevie Nick’s harmonies here and there.  She has a batch of cookies cooking in the kitchen for a bake sale that she grudgingly signed up for the week before.  She still didn’t quite understand why parents were expected to play such an active role at the school.  But, when she casually asked at the last PTA meeting whether all parents were required to take part in the bake sale, she had received such looks that she immediately stopped asking questions.  She didn’t even chance bringing something store-bought.  She sensed that the other mothers would pick up on it immediately, like how she could sometimes tell the outcome of a game just by how a player moved their pawn. 

            The timer dings and she takes out on tray of cookies and replaces them with another. They look decent.  Slightly burned, but in this particular situation, she believes it is the effort that counts, not necessarily the end product.  She sets the timer for the next tray and heads back out into the living room, picking up a magazine and beginning to read it while standing, her hips moving to the music.  It’s her favorite song now.

Listen to the wind blow

Watch the sun rise

Damn your love

Damn your lies

            She doesn’t hear her husband come into the house, but then familiar arms encircle her waist and she grins, leaning back as she covers his arms with hers. His mouth pressed against her ear, he starts to sing along, because, it’s his favorite, too.

And if you don’t love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain

             She turns around, draping her arms around his neck.  He tracks the movements of her hips with own, and she can feel the beat thrumming through her entire body.  She missed being close to him like this.  With a mother-in-law and daughter running around the house, they had little time to just be themselves.  But here, swaying in the living room to Fleetwood Mac, it is only them.  They continue to move, their dancing taking up more space as the song builds.  By the time the guitar solo comes, nothing else will do except for full-out flailing, and they throw their bodies around with sweet abandon.  Beth is breathing hard and she can feel hear heart beating in her temples.  The feeling is pure ecstasy, and when she looks over at Benny, she can see the same joy mirrored on his face. 

            The front door opens, and Alma bursts into the house, running over to her parents.  She begins dancing, too, grinning wide and Benny takes her hands in his, spinning her around.  He spins her over to her mother, and Beth picks her up, Alma squealing with laughter. It’s chaos and perfection all at once, and Mrs. Watts watches from the side indulgently until she sniffs the air and says, “Is something burning?”  

            “The cookies,” Beth says, before depositing her daughter back on the floor and rushing over to the kitchen.  She hadn’t heard the timer beeping over the music, and when she pulls out the tray, the cookies are all marked with dark-brown, some verging on black, splotches.

            “They don’t look that bad?”  Benny offers, pushing his hair away from his face.  His face is flushed and he still hasn’t quite caught his breath.  She feels a sudden rush of love for him that is so strong that it almost hurts.

            “Let’s dance more,” Alma says, tugging on Beth's hand.  Beth looks over at Benny with a slight grin.

            “Looks like we’re dancing now."

He grins and walks backwards into the living room doing a little shimmy.  She laughs and bounds after him, teasing, “Is it weird that I’ve never been more attracted to you?”

            “Make perfect sense.  I’ve got moves.”

            He does a sort of waving thing with his arms and Beth snorts.  “Sure, you do.”

            Alma runs in after them and then they have no choice but to dance wildly and freely, mirroring the sort of freeness that only someone under the age of ten can fully inhabit.   Mrs. Watts watches from the doorway, grinning when Benny picks up Alma and swings her around.  She turns back to the kitchen and throws away the burned cookies, quietly setting to work on the next batch. 

Chapter Text

Beth had initially been concerned that she wasn’t suited for motherhood, and while she had her moments, overall, she felt she was doing a pretty decent job.  Her daughter was still alive, for one.  Alma was generally bathed, dressed and fed and, for most intents and purposes, she was a normal, happy six year old.  Over the years, Beth had gradually shed her insecurities about motherhood, but there was always one place where those insecurities poked back in.  Beth had joined the PTA when Alma started grade school out of genuine curiosity.  While she didn’t particularly want to be involved in the inner workings of Alma’s schooling, she liked being aware of them, and the PTA served that purpose. What Beth hadn’t known, was that being in the PTA was a bit like the mob.  Once you were in, there really wasn’t a good way out.  

            The other mothers – and a few fathers – on the board were nice enough, but what Beth learned relatively quickly was that as much time was spent at meetings discussing the other parents as the schooling.  Each month, they met at one of their houses.  This month, they are at a woman named Marjorie’s house.  Marjorie has a frankly overwhelming collection of porcelain frog figurines, and Beth finds herself constantly distracted by them as they talk.

            “Did you see what Lillian brought to the last bake sale?  Those cookies were an abomination.”

            “A total abomination,” another mother intones.  “But, are we really surprised?”

            Marjorie snickers delicately into her napkin.  “I suppose not.”

            Beth had brought her own half-burned cookies to that bake sale, and she wonders what they all said about her when she wasn’t there.  She never feels particularly comfortable at these gatherings. They remind her of that time she went to an Apple Pi meeting.  Trying so hard to fit in and still not quite getting it right.  While she wouldn’t be slipping out with a filched bottle of Marjorie’s liquor, the first part of that is still relatively appealing to Beth.  

            She stays relatively quiet during the meeting, biding her time until she can reasonably say she needs to be home to put Alma to bed, and then she leaves, offering a small wave on her way out and ruminating on the drive home over whether when they were all talking about the parents who should have never had children they were actually talking about her.   

            Beth walks into her house and feels like she has shed at least another person’s weight when the door closes behind her.  Benny looks up from the couch and asks, “How was the meeting?”

            “Oh, it was great,” she says sarcastically, nudging her heel off with the pointed toe of the other one.  “They all think Hilary Banks is having an affair because she got her hair cut.”

            “I don’t always follow the PTA’s logic.”

            Beth collapses onto the couch next to him.  “I’m just happy to be home.”

            “You look tired,” Benny notes, studying her face.

            Beth yawns wide.  “I feel like I’ve just been running around all week.”

            “We can skip the tournament this weekend,” Benny offers.  “Give you some time to rest?”

            They both were signed up for an invitational forty minutes out in Frankfort. Alma would be staying back with her grandmother and already plotted out a whole itinerary of things they were going to do together that day.  Her parents were decidedly not part of those plans.  Besides, Beth had been looking forward to the tournament.    

            “No, I want to go,” Beth says.  “I feel like I’ve been pulled so many different ways lately.  It’ll be nice to just focus on one thing.”

            “Okay.  Then we’ll go to the tournament.”

            Beth rests her head on his shoulder and says, “Do you know what I think my biggest regret in life is?”

            Benny considers this for a moment and offers, “Joining the PTA?”
            Without hesitation, Beth echoes, “Joining the PTA.”

            By the time the weekend comes around, Beth is almost giddy with excitement. Much of the week had been spent on PTA activities – it was the holidays which was a particularly busy time for school-related events – and Beth is relieved to be on her way to do something she was actually good at.  She didn’t understand party themes and the politics of teacher gifts, but she does understand chess.

            It’s a pleasant forty-minute drive or so from Lexington to Frankfort, and Benny puts the Rumours tape in, both of them singing along with gusto as they drive down the freeway.  The tournament is being held at a local community college and Beth can feel the electricity the moment they enter the building.  While chess tournaments had a perhaps more reserved buzz than a sporting event, there was always a distinct energy that Beth felt at tournaments.  She fully takes in that energy as they wait in line at registration, and when they step up she feels fully in control as she introduces both herself and Benny to the registrar.

            “Yes, I see a Benny Watts on here,” the man says, continuing to scan the list. Beth wonders why he didn’t see her first, considering her last name was earlier in the alphabet, but she doesn’t think too much of it until the man looks up and says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a Beth Harmon on my list.”

            “What do you mean?  Of course, there’s a Beth Harmon on your list.  I registered for the tournament.”

            The man swallows uncomfortably before scanning the list again.  He looks back up at her sheepishly.  “There must have been some sort of mix-up, but you’re not on the list.  I’m really sorry.”

            “Can’t you just add her?”  Benny asks.

            “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the man says.  “We already have all the matches set up.  It would throw everything off.”

            Beth blinks rapidly.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “We offer recreational chess,” the man says with a blank smile.  “It’s intended for non-ranked players, but you’re welcome to play there.”

            Beth has a sudden, and terrible, urge to ask him if he knows who she is, but luckily Benny steps in before that ugly exchange could take place, and says, “Just sub her in for me.”

            “What?”  Beth says, her eyes snapping to her husband.  

            “We have about the same ranking, so the matches won’t be messed up or anything.”

            “Well, I suppose that could work…” the man says slowly, but Beth shakes her head and says, “No, don’t sub me in.”  She looks over at Benny.  “I don’t need to play.  Really.”

            “Are you sure?”

            She nods.  “Yes. I’m sure.”

            It had been a while since Beth had been at a tournament and wasn’t playing, and she thinks about how her mother, Alma, must have felt all those years ago, playing spectator at her games.  To be honest, when she wasn’t watching Benny’s games, it wasn’t always particularly interesting.  Initially, Beth approached some of the lacking games with humor, but at a certain point, she just grew frustrated at all the missed wins.  And so, she just follows Benny from table to table, joining a steadily growing crowd as her husband slowly advances toward the top table.

            Beth had forgotten just how good he was.  Typically, they were competing at their own tables, and while she usually stopped to watch a game here and there, it had been a long time since she had properly sat and watched an entire game.  She notices that he has become more aggressive in his openings like her.  He attacks the middle of the board, keeping key pieces nestled at the edge of the board before he deftly brings them out for attack.  It’s exhilarating, and even more so when he sets up a play she hadn’t anticipated.  It is beautiful and merciless and Beth has never wanted to make out with her husband in a random community college classroom more. But, he needs to focus, so she sits on her hands and watches in rapture as he takes one game and another. 

            There is a break after one of his wins, and he walks over with an easy grin. She knows that look.  It’s when everything is going exactly as you planned. She slides her hand around his arm and says, “You have thirty minutes until your next game, right?”

            He nods.  “Yep. Why?”

            “Thoughts on finding a room with a locking door?” she poses innocently.

            His eye brows practically shoot up to his hairline.  “Are you serious?”

            “You are playing very well today,” she says by way of explanation.

            “I am, aren’t I?”  Benny takes a deep breath.  “I think we better start looking.”

            One locked door later, Benny sits opposite his opponent, tugging the collar of his jacket up higher to cover the mark his wife had left on his neck.  The game starts swiftly, but then the pieces are locked and the action is necessarily short and ruminative.  A pawn moving here.  A bishop gliding one or two squares there.  It’s all just biding time until the correct configuration is set for one of them to strike.  Benny’s opponent is good, but he’s better.  He has a plan in place, and while it takes a while to get there, once he brings his knight up to D5 his opponent has no choice other than to move his Queen and the board opens up.  Benny can clearly see his path to victory, and his opponent does nothing to interfere, either not seeing it or recognizing the inevitability.  Whichever it is, Benny’s opponent does not fold easily, only resigning the game when Benny pins his King between his Queen and a rook.  His opponent extends a hand.

            “Good game.”

            As they shake hands, his opponent’s gaze goes to his neck.  Benny knows he probably should be somewhat embarrassed, but all he can do is grin.

            They drive home, holding hands over the console for nearly the entire drive, and when they go inside Alma is already in bed.  Mrs. Watts is finishing up laundry and says, “We had quite the day.”

            “Did you do everything on the itinerary?”  Benny asks his mother.

            “Yes, we did.  Including the three separate stops for ice cream.”

            Beth winces.  “How was that for you?”         

            “There was a lot of running.  But, it tired her out good.  How was the tournmanet?”

            “There was a slight change of plans.  They lost Beth’s registration.”

            “So, I was just a spectator today,” Beth says.  “But, it honestly wasn’t that bad.  I forgot how much I liked watching Benny play.”

            Beth and Benny exchange a grin and Mrs. Watts says, “You two didn’t do something improper at that tournament now, did you?”

            Benny clears his throat, shrugging the coat higher up around his neck.  “No, of course not.”

            “Absolutely not,” Beth says. 

             Mrs. Watts is not remotely buying their denials, and she shakes her head, walking past them with a basket of folded towels as she says, "Honestly, sometimes you two..."

Left alone, Benny says, "For the record, I don't regret it and would one hundred percent do it again."

Beth grins.  "Me too."

Chapter Text

Beth didn’t quite know how she got rooked into hosting Christmas dinner.  She had never particularly enjoyed hosting and of all the holidays, Christmas was definitely the largest undertaking.  With Benny hailing from a religious family, the day was replete with tradition.  The Watts family attended midnight mass, followed by an early rise for presents and a heavy breakfast of Eggs Benedict, Canadian bacon, grapefruit and coffee preceded by passing around a wafer to share that was blessed by the local priest.  When Beth suggested foregoing the grapefruit – she never understood the appeal of a fruit that took that much effort to enjoy – Benny looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

            “I guess we’re keeping the grapefruit then,” she said succinctly.

            Originally, it was only Cal coming into town to join them.  But then, a few days before Christmas, Cal called and told them that he would be bringing a date.

            “You’ll love Holly.  She’s great.”

            “Who’s Holly, again?”  Benny asked, scratching at a spot right next to his eyebrow. 

            “It’s the girl I’ve been seeing.  I told you about her.”

            “Are you sure?  Because I’ve never heard of her.”

            “I’ve definitely told you about her,” Cal said.  “You’re just having selective memory.”

            “I’m not having selective memory,” Benny returned testily.  “And if I had selective memory, why would I choose to not remember the name of a girl you’ve barely mentioned?”

            “I’ve mentioned her plenty!”

            “Benny,” Beth interrupted, catching parts of the conversation from the kitchen while she was drying dishes.  “We can handle another person.  It’s fine.”

            Benny covered the mouth of the phone and said, “Have you ever heard of a Holly?”

            “No. But, let’s just pretend I have? I’ve heard how long this can go on with your brother, and you need to take Alma to her violin lesson in ten minutes.”

            Benny put the phone back to his ear.  “We’d be happy to have Holly join us for Christmas.”

            Beth had expected Alma to put up some sort of fuss about midnight mass. Despite Mrs. Watt’s religious leanings, she had grudgingly agreed to not force Alma to go with her to her weekly Sunday mass and for all the years prior, had allowed Alma to stay home for midnight mass given her age.  However, she was insistent on her attending for Christmas this year.  Beth expected some pushback from her daughter but, instead, Alma was positively thrilled at the prospect of being allowed to stay up past her bedtime.  She even ended up enjoying mass.  She sat riveted and halfway through the sermon, leaned in toward her grandmother and loudly said, “This is a very good show, Grandma.”

            Mrs. Watts’ face turned the same color as her bright-pink blouse. 

            As for the adults, Mrs. Watts was the only person who seemed to be following along with the service more than in rote.  Benny kept looking over at Cal and Holly over at the end of the pew, and after they sat down following a rather rousing hymn, he turned to Beth and said, “I swear I’ve seen her before.”

            “Seen who?”

            “Holly.”

            “You said you never heard of her and now you think you’ve seen her?”

            “She looks familiar.”

            Beth glanced over at the new member of their group.  All she saw was a rather conventional blonde that she had never laid eyes on before that evening.  She gave Benny a shrug.  He looked back over and then straight ahead at the priest.  After a few minutes, he suddenly stiffened and then looked back over at the end of the pew.

            “What is wrong with you?”  Beth said, hitting his arm lightly.

            “I know where I know her from.”

            “What?  Where?”

            “I can’t say it here.”

            “What, why?”

            “We’re in church,” Benny said. 

            “What does that have to do with anything?”

            Mrs. Watts shushed them loudly. 

            After mass, they all headed back to the house and ensconced in their bedroom, Benny told Beth where he had seen Holly before. 

            “She worked at a strip club I used to go to back in New York.”

            “You used to go to strip clubs?”  Beth asked with surprise. 

            “Yeah, of course.  All the guys did.”  He read into her silence and added, “It’s not a big deal.”

            “Of course, it’s not.”  After a beat she asked, “Why wouldn’t you tell me this at the church?”

            Benny shrugged.  “It didn’t feel appropriate.”

            Beth smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I really did marry a nice Catholic boy, huh?”

            “Considering how our marriage came about, not that nice.”

            She grinned, beginning to roll her stockings down.  “Hey, how come you’ve never taken me to a strip club?”

            “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because you’re a girl.”

            She looked up at him.  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

            Benny snorted.  “Of course, you don’t.”

            The next morning, they all opened presents and afterwards, Beth, Mrs. Watts and Holly went into the kitchen to prepare the meal.  As they got to working, Mrs. Watts started asking Holly the basic questions that a mother asks their son’s new beau. 

            “So, Holly dear, what do you do?”  Mrs. Watts asked while Beth chopped up some pecans to go into a salad.

            “I’m a receptionist at a dentist’s office,” Holly said.

            “Well, that’s just wonderful,” Mrs. Watts enthused.  “I’m sure you encounter a lot of fascinating people that way.”

            “I suppose,” Holly said.  “Although, even more so at my prior job.”

            Beth nearly chopped her finger off before Holly added, “I worked as a switch operator.  Sometimes they’d just start talking before I connected them.  You really hear some things.”

            Mrs. Watts nodded with a wide grin.  “I bet.  I probably shouldn’t ask this, but what’s the most outlandish thing you heard?”

            Beth left the kitchen before Holly answered to check on the rest of the dinner party.   In the living room, Alma was entertaining her uncle and father with a Christmas carol on her violin.  When she finished playing, she nudged her empty case toward them and said, “Tips are not required, but always appreciated.”

            Cal looked over at Benny.  “She really is your daughter.”

            Dinner was the requisite crown roast pork with stuffing, creamed corn and green beans.  There were parts of the Watts Christmas tradition that Beth didn’t really care about, but she was very much a fan of this meal.  She had been intimidated by the roast at first, what with its intricate overlay of rib bones and complicated cooking instructions, but with Mrs. Watts’ help it turned out beautifully.  It was over a second helping of this dish, that the day took an interesting turn.

            “So, Holly, how did you and Cal meet?”  Benny asked casually, spooning another heaping spoonful of stuffing onto his plate.  It was at least his third serving and he didn’t seem to show any signs of slowing down.

            “Well, I’m a receptionist at a bank…”  Holly began.

            “I thought you were a receptionist at a dentist’s office?” Mrs. Watts said.

            “Yes, that’s what I meant to say.  A bank. Dentist office.”  Holly plastered on a nervous smile.  “So easy to mix up.”

            “We met at the dentist’s office,” Cal said.  “I was there to get a crown replaced.  And, as luck would have it, this beauty was at the front desk.”

            “A crown?  When did you get a crown put in?”  Mrs. Watts asked worriedly.  “You had perfect teeth as a boy.  Not a single cavity.  I made sure of that.”

            “It’s not a big deal, Ma,” Cal said. “I got some cavities.  So what?”

            “Not so what,” Mrs. Watts said.  “Oral hygiene is very important.  Benji never had any cavities.”  Beth frowned at Mrs. Watts’ use of her pet name for her son.  “Isn’t that right, Benji?”

            “Not a single one,” Benny said, garnering a glowering look from his brother.

            “Which is remarkable considering you never floss,” Beth said.

            “You never floss?”  Mrs. Watts said in disbelief.  “Benny, you have to floss.  I taught you to floss!”

            “I know, I know,” Benny said dismissively.  “Look, why don’t we go back to Cal’s crown?”

            “I can’t believe you have a crown,” Mrs. Watts said, turning to her other son.  “Were you not brushing good enough?  You know what, open your mouth, let me see it.” She leaned forward, Cal trying to swat her hand away as she took a hold of his mouth.  “If it’s far back, you might not be getting the tooth brush all the way back there.”

            “Stop trying to look in my mouth!”

            Mrs. Watts tightened her hold on his chin, remarking, “I don’t see any crowns.”

            “It’s there,” Cal said, pulling away so abruptly that he nearly took down a glass of wine.  “Trust me, it’s there.  But, you don’t have to worry.  I’m the model of oral health now.”  Across the table, Benny choked on his wine.  “I brush. Floss. After every meal. Sometimes even more.”

            “Well now, you don’t want to over-do it,” Mrs. Watts intoned.

            Cal’s shoulders slackened and he said, “Can we just change the subject, please?”

            “Yes, I suppose we can do that.”

            After dinner, Benny and Cal were alone on the front porch with two beers, and Benny broached the topic of the crown with his brother when Cal snapped, “Would you just get off it?  I think Mom practically examining my tonsils at the table was enough.”

            “Sorry.  I just…” Benny trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck.  “Holly seems nice.”

            Cal bitterly said, “I know you know.”

            Benny looked over at his brother.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “She’s not a receptionist at a dentist’s office.  Or a bank.  I could tell you recognized her when we were at mass.”

            “Yeah,” Benny admitted.  “I’m not judging.  Everyone has to make a living somehow.  Mom might take a little more convincing, but I’ll help you out.”

            Cal shook his head.  “She’s not even really my girlfriend.”

            Now, Benny was genuinely surprised.  “What?  What are you talking about?”

            “I asked her to come here and pretend.  God, I feel like such an idiot now.  But you’re out here with your perfect family and I’m just…” he trailed off. “Well, you know what I am.”

            There was something to his brother’s voice that Benny didn’t understand.  And when he told him as much, his older brother looked up at him and said, “You really don’t know?”

            “I don’t.”

             “Probably just as well.”

            Cal went back into the house and Benny stayed rooted in his seat, the last thirty or some years playing through his mind.  He hadn’t thought much about the fact that Cal hadn’t settled down. He always seemed to be dating someone, and Benny always sort of assumed one day he would marry one of them.  He remembered family dinners growing up. The comments made by both their mother and father about alternative lifestyles.  The reproach and ridicule.  And then he remembered his brother, his head bent and eyes hidden.

            Back in the living room, Alma was playing carols for the family again.  As always, when she finished playing, she gestured toward her empty case.  Holly laughed and said, “You are a very enterprising young lady.”

            Alma did not know what the word enterprising meant, but she knew a compliment when she got one, and she dipped her head in agreement with a wide grin.  After a beat, she said, “How about another?”

            “Well, who am I to say no?”  Holly said. “Do you take requests?”

            Alma brought her instrument up to her chin.  “No.”

            Benny walked over to Cal, standing next to his brother and Alma began to play. Cal glanced over, and a look of understanding passed between the two men.  Benny cleared his voice and said quietly, “Is there someone?”

            Cal hesitated before nodding. 

            “I’d like to meet him.  Sometime.”

            Cal smiled slightly before he nodded.  When Benny looked over, he noticed his eyes were glassy.  “Okay.”

Chapter Text

For some seven years, the Watts family had enjoyed a relatively stable existence in Lexington, Kentucky.  They settled into the practiced routines of daily life, the years passing almost without notice.  If it hadn’t been for Alma and the visible changes in her that each year brought, one could have hardly differentiated one year from the other.  However, other changes were afoot, even if they weren’t readily apparent.  In the summer of 1979, a widower moved into the tidy Tudor situated at the end of the block.  The man fastidiously maintained his front yard and so it wasn’t uncommon to see him out on a weekend, either with a lawn mower or a pair of hedge clippers.  One afternoon, Mrs. Watts passed the house on her daily walk and she stopped, pointing out a protruding bit of the hedge that he had missed with the clippers.  He had smiled slightly, lopping the offending protrusion off with a snip, and Mrs. Watts continued on her walk, thinking little of the interaction. However, the next day, he stopped her when she passed, asking her opinion on whether some planting beds would fit with the angular hedges.  The next day, they discussed the merits of beach pebbles versus lava rock. 

            It continued that way for a few weeks, and it was around that time, Mrs. Watts started preparing her face for her walks.  Beth watched her mother-in-law carefully apply a bright red lipstick – a far cry from her normal understated pink – and after she left, asked Benny, “Have you noticed anything different with your mother?”

            Benny shrugged.  “Not really.”

            Beth glanced out the front windows and watched Mrs. Watts disappear around a corner.  “I think she’s seeing someone.”

            “Who would she be seeing?”

            “I don’t know.  She put on lipstick for her walk.”

            “She always wears lipstick.”

            “Not red lipstick.”

            “Maybe she just liked the color,” Benny said off-handedly, flipping through his magazine on the couch.

            Beth leaned against the couch and said, “All these years later, and you still know nothing about women.”

            Some weeks later, Mrs. Watts started mentioning the widower in conversation. His name was Henry and he had two grown children who lived Louisville.  Henry came over for dinner a few times, and even as the pair grinned and preened at the table, Benny hard-headedly refused to acknowledge that anything was happening, proving that stubbornness really could outweigh reason. He did a fairly consistent job of ignoring the obvious, until one evening, Mrs. Watts unceremoniously announces, “Henry and I are getting married.”

            “What?”

            “He proposed last night and I said yes,” Mrs. Watts says tidily, the statement punctuated by a sip of wine.

            Benny blinks rapidly, not understanding what his mother had just said, because it was absolutely ridiculous. 

            “How can you two be getting married?  You barely know each other.”

            “We know each other very well,” Mrs. Watts corrects. 

            “How?  It’s been like two months.  How can you possibly know each other very well in two months?”

            “It has not been two months,” Mrs. Watts says with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

            “Does this mean I get a grandpa?”  Alma asks excitedly.  “I’ve always wanted a grandpa.”

            Mrs. Watts grins.  “Yes, Alma. You are getting a grandpa.”

            “No, she isn’t,” Benny interrupts.  “Mom, you barely know this guy.  You can’t actually be thinking of marrying him.”

            Mrs. Watts looks icily over at her son and says, “I’m not asking for your permission, dear.  I am simply telling you.  Henry and I are getting married.”

            Benny pauses for the slightest moment before standing and storming out of the kitchen.  Alma watches in confusion and says, “So, am I getting a grandpa or not?”

            “You are,” Mrs. Watts says resolutely and Alma responds with a wide grin.

            “I'll be back,” Beth says, standing up and setting her napkin on her seat. 

            She finds Benny in the bedroom and he is already on the phone.  Just as she sits next to him on the bed, he says, “Hey Nick, can you put my brother on the phone?  I need to talk to him.”

            Beth can tell when Cal picks up the phone because Benny leans forward and says, “Did you know about Mom getting married?” 

            From the way that Benny’s shoulders tense, Beth has a feeling that Cal did, in fact, know.  It was going to be a long night.  After a tense conversation, Benny hangs up and says, “Can you believe this?”

            “Benny-“

            His eyes snap to hers, and with shock he says, “You’re on their side.”

            “There are no sides here,” Beth says.  “But, your mom seems really happy, and-“

            “It’s too fast.”

            “She’s a grown woman, Benny.  I think she knows what she’s doing.”

            “I don’t like him.”

            “You hardly know him.”

            “Well, I still don’t like him.”

            Beth sighs and covers his hands with her own.  “Yeah, I know.”

            While Benny comes to terms with one change in his life, each day brings Beth closer to another potential change.  As luck would have it, a few days before Mrs. Watts’ announcement, Beth misses her period. There was a grace period of sorts, and she tries to calm her nerves, wishing for that telltale smear of red more than she ever had in her life.  Benny and her typically used protection, both of them agreeing a few years after Alma that they didn’t have plans to expand their family.  The post-partum experience had been too difficult on both of them. But there had been that one night after watching Johnny Carson where they were a bit careless, and while she didn’t think much of it at the time, she is thinking about it a lot now.

            The wedding is at the same courthouse Beth and Benny were married at all those years ago.  The wedding party is small, only the children and Alma.  Henry’s children are beaming for their father, Cal doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, and Benny shows no emotion.  He still is not on board for what is happening, but has adopted the sort of stern acceptance that a soldier adopts heading into battle. When Benny tells Beth as much, she says, “I’m sure your mother would be thrilled to hear you comparing her wedding to a battle.”

            “I only promised to be here.  I never said I would be happy.”

            Beth goes to respond when she feels her stomach turn.  The morning sickness started earlier this time, and she excuses herself before quickly walking to the bathroom.  She purposely hadn’t told Benny yet, not wanting the wedding to sour the news.  She was nervous enough about doing this a second time, and she needed a supportive husband.  She hears someone else enter the bathroom, and after a few dry heaves, she walks out of the stall and directly in front of her mother-in-law.

            “You’re pregnant,” Mrs. Watts says.  It’s a statement, not a question, but Beth nods anyway.

            “Benny doesn’t know yet.  I didn’t want…” she trails off.  “Anyway, today is your day.”

            Mrs. Watts walks forward and envelops Beth in a tight hug.  “Forget about that nonsense.  I am so happy for you.”

            Beth pulls away, her eyes watery.  “It is happy, isn’t it?”

            Mrs. Watts tenderly tucks Beth’s hair behind her ear, the gesture not unlike a mother comforting a daughter.  “The most happy.”

            Beth hesitates before she says, “It’s not what we planned for.  Another baby.”

            Mrs. Watts reads into her concern.  “He’ll be overjoyed.  My son loves you very much.”

            “I love him, too.”

            Mrs. Watts smiles softly.  “I know you do.  It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

            Beth takes a deep breath.  “We should head back out.  We have a wedding to go to, don’t we?”

            “Yes, we do.”

            The wedding is short, and Beth thinks that the couple looks happy.  Sure, it had all happened a bit fast, but as Beth grew older, she learned that not everything happened the way you thought it would.  The couple was happy for now, and maybe that was enough. 

            Benny continues his sour mood into the reception and Beth makes frequent trips to the bathroom.  It’s a testament to his frustration that it takes him as long as it does to recognize that something is off.  It is only when she declines a glass of champagne for a toast that he actually looks at her, realization dawning in his gaze.

            “Why don’t we go for a walk,” she says.

            The night is cold and he drapes his suit jacket over her slim shoulders. They walk in silence for a few moments before he asks, “How long have you known?”

            “About a week.”

            He stops walking.  “A week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

            She looks up at him.  “Have you been around yourself this week?  It didn’t exactly seem like the time for unexpected news.”

            His face drops.  “Beth.”

            “I know this isn’t want we planned-“

            “It doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, grabbing her hands.  “This is good news.”  He smiles for the first time in days.  “Fantastic news.”

            “It is?”

            He squeezes her hands.  “Of course, it is.  And I am so sorry that I ever made you think otherwise.”    

            She takes a deep breath and admits, “I’m nervous.  After last time…”

            “We’ll be better prepared this time,” he says. 

            She nods, feeling a sense of relaxation settle and steps forward, wrapping her arms around his waist.  After all these years, she still is taken by how perfectly her body slots against his. He holds her under his suit jacket, his fingers pressing into her side.

            “I love you, Beth.”

            “I love you, too.”

They stay that way for a while, wrapped up in each other, and before they head back into the restaurant, Benny says, "So, Alma's getting a grandpa and a little brother or sister this year.  I'm pretty sure that means we're good on presents for the rest of the year."

Beth grins, capturing his hand with hers.  "I'll let you be the one to tell her that."

Chapter Text

TWO YEARS LATER

             When Beth was a young girl, she used to dream about her future.  It was usually after the pills had spread through her body like ink in water.  Her eyes would drift shut and the expanse of space above her would turn back into just a ceiling.  Oddly enough, she never dreamed of chess.  That was her reality.  Instead, she dreamt of family.  True family.  A concept as foreign to her as Paris or London.  For most of her life, she had only known people who were family in name.  Her birth parents.  Mr. Wheatley. Even Alma in the beginning, before their relationship had developed into something real.  

            In truth, Beth never thought she would find a family.  Not the type that she saw other people have.  Warm bodies around a dinner table.  Easy comfort. Interest that had nothing to do with achievements, but rather everything to do with the person.  Becoming a grandmaster seemed more plausible, and yet, here she was. Somehow, she managed to achieve both.

            It’s New Year’s Eve and there is an electricity in the air that that only comes once a year.  Beth and Benny are hosting a small get together for some friends and Beth is, predictably, running late.  She used to have everything together, but then she became the mother of two children, instead of one, and everything went to hell a bit.  She finishes up the appetizers while Benny vacuums in the rec room. When the vacuum switches off, Beth hears Christopher crying and then Benny’s voice as he tries to calm their son.

            Alma walks into the kitchen and unceremoniously says, “Christopher is crying again.”

            Alma pops a cube of pumpernickel bread into her mouth.  She has fully embraced the 1980s aesthetic.  Crimped hair paired with a nylon zip-up and neon leggings.  Beth finds the fashion mildly horrifying, but her daughter likes it enough.  Besides, she is just at that age where fitting in is paramount, and all her other friends were similarly outfitted.  Beth saw them all grouped together one day when she dropped Alma off at the mall and all the neon had been nearly blinding.  

            “Did you vacuum the stairs?”  Beth asks.

            “Yeah.  I still don’t get why I had to.  People don’t go upstairs.”

            “But they can see the stairs.”

            “So what?”

            Beth presses her lips together to stop a smart retort, knowing better than to pick a fight with her daughter, because she would necessarily lose. While she had the advantage of being the mother, Alma had the advantage of being a pre-teen who didn’t care.  Her daughter pops the third or fourth cube of bread into her mouth, and Beth says, “Instead of eating all of that, why don’t you bring it out to the table with the spinach dip.”

            “Okay,” Alma tosses off, picking up the two dishes and heading out of the kitchen. 

            Christopher continues to cry, and loudly, and before long, Benny comes into the kitchen and holds him out toward Beth.  Behind them, the front door rings.

            “Why did we agree to host this again?”  Benny asks.  Over his shoulder, he calls out, “Alma, can you get the door?” 

            Beth takes Christopher and props him on her hip, beginning to shift her weight between her feet.  “Because we’re gluttons for punishment?”

            “That must be it.”

            Benny leans in and gives her a quick kiss before dropping a quick one on the top of Christopher’s head, which only makes him shriek louder.

            “He does know I’m his father, right?”

            “I think we’re both a little murky on that fact,” Beth teases.

            Townes walks into the kitchen, Roger behind him, and says, “Why is my godson screaming like a banshee?”

            “It’s his thing as of late,” Beth says.

            Benny adds, “It’s very fun for his parents, as you can see.”

            “Come here, little guy,” Townes says, coaxing Christopher from Beth’s arms. Within a few seconds, Christopher had calmed, looking over at his parent’s stricken face with minimal interest.

            Benny shakes his head and says, “How is that possible?  I was trying to calm him for five minutes and nothing.  You pick him up and he immediately stops.”

            “I’m good with babies,” Townes says with a shrug.

            “He really is,” Roger intones.  “My sister has a five-month old and I swear the last time we saw her, she tried to send her home with us.”

            “I can’t totally blame your sister.”

            Over the evening, the rest of the party gradually filters in.  Harry shows up with his new wife, Annette, who Beth had improbably met all those years ago at her first chess tournament.  It was funny sometimes how things turned out. Jolene and Rick come about an hour in with their daughter, Nicola.  She’s a few years younger than Alma and looks up to her in a way that reminds Beth of her and Jolene when they were kids.  Alma pours them each a fizzling flute of sparkling apple juice and they finish off nearly the entire bottle before their parents tell them to save some for midnight.

            The evening is filled with the sort of easy and meandering conversation that happens amongst people who see each other often enough to not require anything more. Townes and Jolene discuss his new kitchen renovation over cubes of pumpernickel bread with spinach dip.  Annette excitedly talks about the new Prince album. As midnight approaches, Beth and Benny prepare the flutes of champagne, passing them out to their guests.  Christopher has long since been put to bed, and despite Alma and Nicola’s best efforts, they are passed out on the couch.  However, they are awoken by the adults’ booming voices as they count down to 1982, and waiting for them on the coffee table, is the last of the sparkling apple juice in their flutes.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

            They cry out with glee at the turn of the year, Auld Lang Syne playing from the television where Dick Clark announces the start of 1982.  Beth and Benny kiss before making their way around to hug their friends, but they end up back together, Beth’s arms slung around her husband’s waist.  She feels warm all over and knows that it has absolutely nothing to do with the champagne.

            “So, what are you hoping for in the new year?”  Townes asks, finishing off his drink.

            Beth looks around her, at her friends and family, and says, “Absolutely nothing. I have everything already.”

Chapter Text

Paris, 1994

            The Paris sun is unrelenting.  Beth shades her eyes, longingly picturing her sunglasses on the nightstand in her hotel room.  Without a word, Benny takes off his and holds them out.  He tilts his face up toward the blue sky, one eye squinted shut.

            “I’m glad they had the tournament in the summer this time,” he says.  “It always felt a bit like a lost opportunity to come here in winter.”

            Beth smiles slightly at her husband as she puts on his sunglasses.  The frames are too large for her face, but they get the job done.  She can see again, which is a welcome addition to the afternoon.  They walk through the Champs-Elysees Jardin, Beth’s arm linked with his for balance that she doesn’t need.  She just likes being close to him.  She always has.

            They don’t talk much as they walk.  It’s the quiet before the storm.  Tomorrow, Beth competes for another world champion title.  She had won it before.  And lost it.  The children were younger then, and while chess had always held a significant place in Beth’s priorities, at that time, it wasn’t at the top.  But now the children have grown.  Alma is already out of the house, and in a few years, Christopher will follow her.  Like many parents facing the proverbial empty nest, Beth turned inward to find herself again. And for her, that had always only led to one place.  She started playing again at various opens around the country, using the trips as opportunities for family vacations, and then she received her invitation to Paris.

            Benny pulls them to a stop in front of a fountain. Beside it, there are tables filled with people.  Some are reading or listening to music on their Walkman.  Others are in groups.  Twenty years ago, it would have been filled with chess boards.  Beth tells Benny that, and he points at a table in the back corner.

            “I think I beat you at that table.”
            “Really.  I don’t remember that.”

             They walk on, hands clasped easily between them, and she asks, “Does it bother you that you’re not playing this year?”

            He shakes his head.  “It’s not my time.”

            There isn’t any trace of bitterness in his voice, and she knows he means it.  Over the years, there had been times when he didn’t.  Just as there had been times she resented him under the weight of what felt like endless maternal responsibility.  But, they pushed through.

            “So, what do you want for dinner tonight?”

            “Somewhere with a nice steak.”

            “I think we can manage that.”

            They eat at a café along the river and when Benny spots Borgov and his wife a few tables down, says, “I’m surprised he’s here. He’s practically a dinosaur.”

            “The younger players are probably saying that about me.  Did you hear about the fifteen-year-old from Chicago?”

            “You don’t look a day over 35.”

            “That’s sweet.  And also a lie.”

            Benny leans back in his chair.  “What’s that thing my mom always says?  To grow older is God’s greatest gift?”

            “Your mom said a lot of stupid things.”  Beth catches Borgov’s glance and he stands up and makes his way to the table.  Beth quickly says, “He’s coming this way.  No dinosaur comments.”

            “What, was I raised by wolves?”

            Beth shoots him a glance, to which he just shrugs. After a second, Borgov is next to the table, looking just as reserved and mildly uncomfortable as Beth remembered.

            “I was very pleased to see your name on the list of players,” Borgov says smoothly.  “Welcome back.”  He turns his gaze to Benny and adds, “I’m just surprised you aren’t playing, Benjamin.”

            “Next year,” Benny returns easily. 

            “I look forward to it.  Anyway, I won’t disturb your dinner any further.  I will see you both tomorrow.”

            He walks away and Beth says, “You know, I think he’s the only person besides your mother who calls you Benjamin.”

            The next morning, Beth is nervous.  She barely slept, but if being a mother prepared her for anything, it is operating on minimal sleep. The days of shift dresses and cardigans are long gone, but Beth still dresses for the occasion.  She finds confidence in the sharp lines of the dress with its sculptured shoulders and sumptuous material.  It is a bit like wearing armor, but of the most fashionable sense.

            Benny knows that she doesn’t like eating in a restaurant before a tournament so he orders her oatmeal and grapefruit directly to the room.  They eat in a companionable silence, but after a certain amount of time, Benny can’t help himself.  She is playing Nicholas Waters from Washington first, and Benny says, “Watch his rooks. He always underplays them before the middle game.”

            “I know.”

            She pushes her empty bowl of oatmeal away from her.  “I’ll beat him.  I’ll beat them all.”

            Benny grins.  “I bet you will.”

            The first day is easy.  The second day, even easier.  And then, it is down to Borgov and Beth.  Just like it had been before.  Beth realizes that it is almost twenty-five years to the day.  It is a different hotel, of course.  And she is a different person.  Back then, she was practically a child and the siren of her vices was loud in her ears.  Now, she is nearly fifty and she hasn’t touched a drink for fifteen years.  Her age has brought a sort of clarity that she couldn’t have imagined as a younger woman.  It didn’t necessarily make her a stronger player, but a stronger person. 

            He is phenomenal, just as she expected, but so is she.  They had always matched each other well in both skill and precision, and the years had only served to bring their talents closer.  Beth loses herself in the movements of the pieces, which is what always happened during the best games.  With precise focus, nothing else mattered but those 64-squares and the intricate dance the pieces play across them.

            For most of the game, Beth cannot tell who is winning and it infuriates her.  He keeps matching each of her ingenious moves with something even more ingenious, and he continues to have that placid look on his face that give her no insight into his thought process other than there appears to be none.  But, she knows he’s thinking.  He is thinking well and hard and when he forces her to sacrifice her Queen she wants to scream.  It isn’t a fatal loss, but she is wounded enough to call for a break.

            When she reaches Benny, he immediately says, “You don’t need your Queen.”

            She scoffs and he says, “You can still win.”

            “I know,” she returns shortly.  She bites her lip and glances over her shoulder at Borgov.  He is sipping at a glass of water, entirely unaffected.  “I just don’t know how.”  

            And so, they return.  Without a Queen, Beth’s usual aggressive tactics are forced to the side by a more methodical stretch.  She hates playing this way, but she can see that it is the only path to victory.  For an hour, she makes achingly slow progress until Borgov makes a mistake.  She almost cannot believe it, but there it is.  The rook he had been planning to skewer her king with pinned between a knight and unassuming pawn.  She can tell the moment he recognizes his error by the slight clench of his jaw. She takes his rook and they are once again on even playing fields.  Forty-seven minutes later, he stares at the sparse board and then looks up at her.

            “The game is yours.”

            On the plane ride back to Kentucky, Benny asks, “Would it be bad form for a husband to take his wife’s world champion title?”

            “What makes you think you can actually beat me?” she asks.

            “What makes you think I can’t?”

            They hold each other’s gaze until Benny smiles slightly and says, “We better not start a fight.  We still have another five hours on this flight.”

            “Good call.”

            He leans forward and kisses her.  “I’m am really proud of you.  You know that, right?”

            “Is this before or after you were considering stealing my title?”

            “Not stealing.  Winning.  There’s a difference.”

            She smirks.  “I do know.  That you're proud.  Thank you for being here with me.”

            He takes her hand in his.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”