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Beth returns to Kentucky from Moscow, after her two-week press tour. The house is dusty, the mail piled up in front of her door.
She opens the curtains to let the light come in, but somehow, it doesn’t seem enough.
The smell of vodka lingers, no matter how many candles she lights or how hard she scrubs, even though there is no liquor to be found in the house.
Lexington, on the other hand, is full of changes.
The townspeople have always been interested in her, as a sort of odd curiosity, the orphan that Alma Wheatley adopted who became a world-traveling chess prodigy. Now, fresh off her international win against Borgov, she can’t go anywhere without being recognized and gawked at.
She hates it.
So when a real estate agent calls her up and says he’s looking to buy a bunch of homes in her neighborhood, to turn it into some kind of gated community, she sells the house for a tidy sum.
-
When the real estate agent sends over the papers for her to sign, it finally sinks in. She is selling the home that became her childhood home. And now she needs to find a new place to live.
But where to go?
She could move to Louisville, near Jolene. She thinks that Jolene would be excited to have her in the same city.
She could move to somewhere else in Lexington. Maybe near Harry or the twins.
She could move to Paris. She likes the streets and the fashion and the pastries.
She could move to New York. Benny is there. And though she didn’t venture out much during those five weeks she stayed there, what she did see, she liked.
But Jolene is busy with law school. Staying in Lexington feels like it’s moving in a circle, a back and forth postponing a draw when there are no winning moves. Paris reminds her of Cleo and Borgov and losing and the start of her spiral and she’d rather not. New York, well, Benny is in New York and that feels like both a positive and a drawback for reasons she can’t quite articulate.
No, she can’t make this decision based on other people.
And so she does what she always does. She looks to chess. She spends time pouring through old issues of Chess Review and the tournament sections, triangulating where the most tournaments are held.
New York it is.
-
In her apartment hunt, Beth finally comes to understand why Benny lives in the place he does.
Even with the money from the sale of the house, her choices are either: decently-sized in a neighborhood the real estate agent describes as “unsavory” or the size of a shoe box and in a so-called “charming” neighborhood.
The shoe box apartments she is shown by the agent remind her too much of Methuen, too much of the trailer she grew up in. So she opts for decently-sized. She’ll make it nice inside.
She doesn’t take much from the Kentucky house, but she does take the new sofas she got. And Alma’s piano.
The piano takes up most of her new living room and it’s a pain (and expensive) to get to New York and up the two flights of stairs to her new apartment, but it is worth it.
-
Beth must pick up the phone and put it down at least 64 times before she finally dials his number.
“I moved to New York,” she says. There is no preamble, no “hellos” after months of radio silence. She takes a second to hope he doesn’t hang up on her.
There’s a pause and for a moment, she wonders whether Benny even knows it’s her. “Oh it’s official now,” he says. “You’re crazy. You are out of your fucking mind.”
She laughs and says, “Maybe. Probably.” She cocks her head into the phone. “But I did it, and it’s too late to undo it.”
Benny returns her laugh and says, “Well, that makes two of us, I guess. Welcome to the city that never sleeps.”
Beth gives him the address and tells him not to be a stranger.
-
Benny calls her and tells her he’ll come by that very weekend.
She is excited and nervous all at once.
She hasn’t seen Benny since the last time she was in New York. And yes, he did call her in Moscow, but he’d also told her not to call him again, and who knows if he was just doing his American duty in helping her? Still, he’s coming by and that must mean they’re okay right? (She tries to push down the nagging part of her brain that tells her it’s all an elaborate joke or set-up, that he’s really coming to yell at her).
But part of her doesn’t want them to be just okay. She wants them to be…well, she doesn’t know.
No, she tells herself, don’t think like that. Whatever it is that she may want, or thinks she wants, whatever was once between them, that’s in the past, it’s old news.
She is in New York, living in New York City, and New York is for new beginnings.
-
She needn’t have worried, it turns out, that they would be different.
Beth meets him at the subway station entrance and on their walk to her apartment, and they fall easily into conversation about her game with Borgov, chess, and even their mutual acquaintances.
When they get into her neighborhood, she can see a familiar frown poking at Benny’s lips.
“What?” she says. Her heart pounds and she’s afraid they’ve gotten to the hard part, the part where he chews her out, where she doesn’t know what to say, where he rejects her.
But it’s not at her that Benny looks at disapprovingly. Instead, his eyes glance around the neighborhood warily, eyeing the boarded up windows, the long-closed businesses. “Your neighborhood…” he starts.
And then, she cracks into a smile and she starts to laugh because Benny Watts is really about to criticize her living standards. “You really don’t have any room to judge,” she says, before the judgement she knows is on his lips can come out.
“Hey!” Benny pretends to look affronted. “Besides, I wasn’t going to judge…”
“That’s a lie,” Beth replies, but she’s not annoyed. She remembers how she first looked at Benny’s apartment, when they first drove in from Ohio all those months ago.
He smiles a crooked smile at her and Beth hides her own as she juggles the keys to unlock the myriad of locks on the front door.
-
The next time they meet, Benny hands her a small box and tells her to open it. It’s not wrapped or anything like that, and Beth is unsure at first if it’s a gift.
“Go on, open it,” he says with a barely concealed smirk.
She does, taking the lid off to find a small knife in a white hide holster. It’s about the same size as the one he always carries.
She laughs. “What am I going to do with this?”
“For protection,” he says. “From whatever.” His eyes twinkle.
“Thank you,” she says. She feels like she should say more, but she doesn’t know how, and she has to swallow something in her throat.
She doesn’t wear it, but she does keep it on her shelf, in plain sight of any visitors.
-
She likes New York. She likes the buzz, the rush that comes from the constant sounds and neon signs. She likes that no one here really cares that she’s an international chess champion, no one awkwardly gawks at her or whispers about rumors of an alcohol problem (which isn’t a problem anymore, thank you very much). Everyone is too focused on what they’re doing to care what anyone else up to.
She likes the crush of the crowd, and that when she wants to, she can go home to her own cozy little space and retreat away.
She likes that there is always something to do. She likes that she can stay at home and play through games to her heart’s content and not have to worrying about keeping a house in shape. She likes that she can go to Washington Square Park and play chess with little old men and women who are there simply for the love of the game, no ratings, no titles, no pride at stake. She likes that she can walk along 5th Avenue and look at all the windows with pretty dresses (and even go in and buy some from time to time). She likes that there are tons of chess tournaments she can play in that are only a day’s train ride away at most. She likes that there is always a different food place to try, with food from all around the world, food so delicious and authentic that she almost feels as if she is actually there.
She is not one for idle time, and Benny was right (though she’ll never admit it to him): New York is the city that never sleeps. It suits her.
-
She sees Benny fairly often. After all, the main reason she moved here was chess, and chess circles can only be so big.
The New York chapter of the Federation hosts socials every few weeks, and in an attempt to get back into their good graces, Beth attends the somewhat dry events. To her surprise, Benny also attends often. (“Gotta keep my fans happy,” Benny says to her when she asks him why he attends the dull events. “Plus,” he’d adds, “I’m doing them a favor. I liven up any room.”)
They end up at many of the same tournaments, of course. The ones that are just out of the city are a little harder for Beth to get to, but not much, with the train system. That becomes moot when Benny pulls up in his beetle outside her apartment before a match in Jersey and tells her, “We’re splitting gas.” She rolls her eyes and protests because she’s not going to let Benny Watts think he can boss her around, but eventually she climbs into his beetle and finds it much more comfortable than the train. Plus, it helps to run through games with someone else before a tournament, she tells herself.
-
New York is good, it is new, it is fresh. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss Lexington sometimes, doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss her friends, doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss the house she’d grown to call a home.
And while New York keeps Beth plenty busy, it doesn’t mean she forgets how easy it was to lose herself with a swallow of a pill or a shot of whiskey.
Sometimes when she itches to go down to the deli and buy a beer or to the pharmacy and buy a bottle of Librium, she’ll go for a walk instead.
She walks all over. Around the neighborhood. To the park. Up to the East Side. One time, she even walks across the Brooklyn Bridge.
She walks until the urge subsides for the time being, or she’s too tired to do anything but trudge back to her apartment and collapse in her bed.
It’s tedious, but it works and her apartment stays clean of liquor bottles and of little green pills.
-
Eventually, Beth and Benny get into a routine of meeting in the park on Sunday mornings.
The first time they’d met in the park had been an accident. Beth had been sitting in Washington Square Park, taking a break, just admiring the small hubbub of the amateur chess players, eating a delicate croissant from the bakery across the street (the line is always long there but it’s worth it). When she’d seen the crowd part ways for the man in the cowboy hat and trench coat, she told herself she should’ve known. Of course they’d meet here eventually, she thinks. She can never seem to get too far from him.
After greeting a few players (it seems as though Benny was no stranger to them), he’d seen her, perched on the bench, watching intensely.
“Why, hello, Beth,” he’d said in that easy way of his, as he’d walked over.
“Why, hello, Benny,” she says. She feels as if they are replaying an old game, going over it again, but she’s not sure which one it is. “What brings you here?”
He gives her a what do you think? look. He sits down next to her on the bench.
“I come here on Sundays, sometimes. Study the games,” he says. “What about you?”
She looks at him, surprised. She didn’t think Benny Watts would deign to study the games of some pedestrians. Before Moscow, she wouldn’t have either (she’d had to grudgingly study the games of grandmasters). But then she’d played in the park in Moscow and she’d felt like she did the first time she played with Mr. Shaibel and for the first time in a while, she’d felt as if she’d learned something. It wasn’t new moves or cutting edge strategy. It’d been something she couldn’t quite place her finger on, but she’d enjoyed it just the same.
(On the way to the airport, after her CIA agent had finally wrangled her into the car, the driver had commented that the park was full of true lyubitels. Beth had interpreted it as “amateurs” and she’d started to protest, to defend the park and the men she’d just played. The driver had stopped her, speaking in English, “No, I mean lyubitels in…how do you say it in English…lovers.”
When she’d gotten home, she’d looked up lyubitels and amateurs in her dictionary, just to make sure she hadn’t been wrong about her Russian. She hadn’t been wrong, but she did find out that amateur came from the Latin word “amare,” meaning to love.)
She gets the same feeling here, in this park, full of strange people (yes, including a man in a cowboy hat and leather duster and that isn’t even the strangest outfit she’s seen all morning).
So she knows why she’s here. Still, she’s surprised at Benny’s answer, but it also gives her a feeling of deja-vu from a time in Ohio when she’d asked him another question, on another bench.
Benny must read her mind, because he answers her unspoken, unformed thought. “It’s always good to keep a fresh perspective,” he says. “You can’t just play by yourself.”
And for a moment, she’s not sure whether they’re talking about chess. But then he launches into how he’s learned some of the best speed chess moves here, from these players, and they are back on familiar ground.
They don’t plan it per se, but they arrive at the same time the next Sunday, and the Sunday after that, and the next Sunday as well, and it becomes something Beth looks forward to all week.
-
The first person to visit her from Kentucky is Harry Beltik. He arrives with a familiar patched suitcase and a bear hug for Beth.
She makes up her couch for him and then takes him out to eat at Katz’s Deli.
As they’re munching on their pastrami sandwiches, Harry remarks, “Well, this is certainly a long way from turkey sandwiches at your kitchen counter.”
It certainly is. It’s a long way from sandwiches hastily fixed for a man she barely knew who she invited just to stave off the loneliness in the wake of Alma’s passing. For a minute, she feels a pang, remembering Alma. But then she remembers how Alma said she’d always wanted to spend Christmas in New York. And this year she will. For Alma.
Harry’s visit passes by quickly, and they try to do all the touristy things at first, before Harry gets uncomfortable with the crowds and Beth grows bored. Instead, they settle for companionable walks in the park and friendly games of chess at stone tables.
As Harry is getting into the cab for the airport, he kisses Beth on the cheek. “You look really happy, Beth,” he says. “I’m really glad for you.”
She smiles. “Thank you. It’s really nice to hear your voice.”
He gives a pointed look around the neighborhood (the only sticking point throughout his visit had been that he’d been worried about her safety in the neighborhood, though she’d assured him she was fine). “Be careful, Beth,” he says.
She laughs and hugs him once more. Yes, they have come a long way. Especially her.
-
Beth likes the New York Public Library, which is infinitely better than Lexington’s library, and has a truly amazing selection of chess books.
The architecture is grand and it reminds Beth, in parts, of Paris and of Moscow.
She gets a library card and checks out more books than is comfortable to lug back to her apartment on the subway.
Sometimes, Benny will call her up and they’ll go to the Strand and pick through the bargain paperbacks outside. Sometimes, they find chess books, but more often not.
When they do find that rare gem, Beth doesn’t miss Benny will sneak in a Western paperback with his purchase.
-
One day, their Sunday morning fun is cut short by a sudden rainstorm. They run through the wet streets and end up stumbling into a coffee shop with worn leather couches and stacks of poetry books, along with people who dress just as eclectically as Benny.
Beth checks her ever present watch and realizes she was out at the park longer than she’d realized. She should get home soon. She’s supposed to get a call from her lawyer about some business or other thing (she doesn’t quite remember what) this afternoon. But the rain doesn’t seem to be letting up, and she doesn’t really want to get soaked.
So, Beth orders coffee and Benny orders an apple juice. And then they spy it. In the corner, tucked away along with some dusty boxes of Connect Four and Monopoly, is a chess set.
Or, what looks like a chess set. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the pieces in the “set” have come from at least three different boxes. The white pieces are really a mix of white, off-white, and light tan wood and the black pieces range from cheap black plastic to darker colored pieces of wood. The queen of the black set is really a white queen, but it has a big “B” written in permanent marker on it to distinguish it. The white set has a knight that is of darker wood, but someone wrapped a white piece of paper around it to indicate its true belonging. But all the pieces are there.
Benny looks at Beth, and he doesn’t even need to verbalize the question.
She looks out the window. The rain is getting lighter and she really should be getting home. But she didn’t get to finish her last game in the park this morning and something about this set calls to her. And she doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t want to leave Benny just yet.
“Fine,” she says, sitting down on the white side. “One game.”
Benny smiles and takes the seat across from her.
“Got it?” she confirms with Benny.
“Alright,” he says, the smile not leaving his face. “Shall we say, five bucks a game?”
She rolls her eyes. “I haven’t even had my coffee.”
As if on cue, the barista approaches them with their drinks.
“Well, look, here it comes right now,” Benny says, his smile turning into a smirk.
Beth picks up the knight.
-
Beth calls Jolene every week and they spend at least an hour talking, catching up. Jolene tells her all about law school and Beth doesn’t really understand much of it, but she still listens and is happy for Jolene. Beth tells her about the chess she’s played that week, the new neighborhoods she’s explored, and the different people she’s met at the park.
One day, Beth finishes recapping her week, when Jolene asks her, “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that cowboy haven’t you?”
Beth is silent. She hasn’t really thought about it but she supposes she has. It’s not that she hasn’t made other friends (or well, friendly acquaintances at the very least) in New York. It’s just that she and Benny do so much of the same thing, like they’re mirroring each other’s moves. It just makes sense that they do it together. Besides, he’s helping her get used to New York. It’s friendly.
Still, saying any of that out loud would mean opening it up to inspection, and she doesn’t know if she can handle that. “I guess,” she replies.
“Are you sleeping together again?” Jolene asks, never skirting around the topic.
“Jolene!” Beth gasps through the phone, though she shouldn’t be surprised.
Jolene laughs through the phone, the rich sound echoing through the line. “What? You two are a matched pair, with all your chess and trading rooks and whatever.”
“Just because we have similar interests,” Beth says, trying to make her voice sound nonchalant. “Does not mean that we’re a matched pair, or whatever you say.”
“Okay, whatever you say, cracker,” Jolene answers through the phone. “But, for the record, the way you talk is more than having similar interests. Also, it doesn’t sound like this Benny boy is really the type to usually roll out the welcome to New York mat. At least not for just anybody.”
Beth ignores that and switches the topic, which Jolene allows.
After she hangs up the phone, Beth pauses to think about what she’ll do. She decides to go to the Natural History Museum. They’re having a special exhibition on chess around the world, and she’s been wanting to go since someone mentioned it at the last Federation social.
Her phone rings and she thinks it must be Jolene calling her back, having forgotten to tell her something or other.
It’s Benny. “Have you checked out that chess exhibit at the museum yet?”
-
Beth likes to get her coffee at a bodega right down the block from her. The coffee is from an old pot that sits there all day, but Beth comes in the morning when it is fresh and they put just the right amount of cream and sugar in it.
Soon enough, the owners know her face and have her coffee order ready for her when she walks in the door in the morning.
They have a daughter, and the first time she recognizes Beth from the cover of the stack of Chess Reviews they just got in, she excitedly asks for Beth’s autograph.
The next time Beth comes in, the little girl tells her how she’s started reading Chess Review cover to cover.
Eventually Beth cajoles Benny into the bodega and the look on the little girl’s face is worth it (even if Beth had to promise to buy them coffee for the next three Sundays).
-
Sometimes, Benny will invite her and Levertov and Wexler and a few other chess federation acquaintances over and they’ll eat and talk and play bughouse or skittles, or just plain old chess.
They’ll talk about the latest chess news, what players are up-and-coming in the Elo rankings, who will get invited to what invitational, and the like.
They’ll play late into the night, eating and sipping on apple juice, talking and playing, playing and trading stories about different tournaments and invitations.
Benny always insists on accompanying her home, taking the subway with her (“since you won’t use the fucking knife I bought you,” he grumbles), walking her right to her apartment door. She tells him she’s fine, she can handle herself, but he insists, and after a while, Beth stops protesting. After all, she really doesn’t mind.
One summer night, one of the nice ones that’s not too sticky, they walk all the way from Benny’s apartment to hers. It takes about an hour, but neither of them mind. They get ice cream on the way and they’re just finishing off their cones when they arrive at Beth’s doorstep.
Beth isn’t quite sure what it is, but the air feels different tonight. More alive, more electric than usual. She looks at Benny.
His hair is still long and just a bit shaggy. He’s not wearing his duster or his hat, just a plain button-up shirt and skinny jeans, along with his regular necklaces. And his knife, of course. The light catches his hair, making it look more golden than usual.
If Benny notices Beth staring, he doesn’t let on. “You have ice cream on your face, Harmon,” he says.
Beth snaps out of her reverie and quickly reaches up with her left hand to wipe it. “Oh,” she says, slightly embarrassed. “Thanks.”
Benny laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Of course.” He looks back at her and Beth feels her breath catch.
And then, Benny’s hand is reaching up and Beth thinks this is it, they’re on the precipice of something new. Or maybe something old. She’s not sure.
His hand grazes her cheek and instead of his lips on hers, she feels his hand brush the corner of her lips.
“Got it,” Benny says.
Beth blinks in surprise. “Got what?”
“You missed a spot,” he says, though his hand still lingers, just centimeters from her face.
“Oh,” she says, hollowly. A lock of his hair falls in his face now and she has to stifle an impulse to touch it, to push it out of his face, to pull it towards her.
For a moment, they’re caught there, in a slice of time that seems to stretch infinitely, neither the past or present, neither moving.
And then a fire truck sounds down the street, and the moment crashes. Benny’s hand drops and he stuffs them in his pocket. Beth starts to shuffle around her purse for her keys.
She coughs. “Well, thank you,” she says. “Even though I told you you didn’t need to.”
Benny looks away, at the ground, and then back up to her. “Of course,” he nods. He starts to walk down the stairs. “See you Sunday,” he calls back.
Beth swallows thickly, not sure if it’s the summer air or something else. “See you Sunday.”
-
When Benny finds out she goes for walks late at night, after she casually mentions it on the phone one day, he actually growls and tells her, “You shouldn’t be by yourself.”
She’s oddly touched by the concern in his voice. But still, she isn’t going to let him tell her what to do. “I’m fine, Benny, really,” she says.
He grumbles something inaudible into the phone. Then, “Well, you can call me if you want. We can talk it out. Or call me and I’ll come.”
She finds herself smiling into the phone. “Thank you, Benny.” She pauses, and then adds. “For everything.”
-
To her surprise, the next time she feels the craving, feels the itch, she calls. It’s 2am and she’s not even sure whether he’ll pick up.
But he does. He’s at her apartment in 20 minutes and then they’re out walking.
She feels a little safer with him by her side, even though she’s fairly sure she’d be just as much if not better in a fight against any muggers (though he does have that knife, Beth thinks wryly). Either way, it’s nice, and there’s an extra warmness to her that she’s fairly certain isn’t just coming from Benny’s skinny body.
Sometimes they’ll talk it out. Other times, they won’t and they’ll just walk in not-uncomfortable silence. Sometimes they’ll stop at the all night diner and get coffee.
Sometimes, they’ll walk all the way to Central Park and play on one of the boards in the moonlight. (It’d be a romantic picture, if they were like that. Of course, Beth thinks, they’re not.)
-
Beth’s first Christmas in New York, she thinks of Alma, thinks about how she said she always wanted to spend it in New York. How she never got the chance to.
Well Beth is in New York now. Alone.
She’d tried to make the best of it, for Alma. And she had, in a way. She’d gone and seen the tree at Rockefeller center earlier in the week. She’d gone to Macy’s at Herald Square and looked at all the windows, abundant with holiday lights. She’d worn a pretty red dress at the Federation Christmas party.
Jolene is due to visit for New Year’s, but today Beth’s alone. She’s not religious and she spent too many Christmases at Methuen spent in silent prayer for hours (well, really, she’d just gone over openings in her head but still) to have a taste for church anymore.
Still, Beth doesn’t despair. She puts on a pot for tea and makes some eggs and prepares to curl up with Modern Chess Openings.
That is, until her doorbell rings. She contemplates ignoring it, but decides to answer it anyway. Just in case. In case of what, she doesn’t know.
She opens it to three women standing there, bundled in heavy jackets and long skirts, with rosaries around their necks. They clutch brightly colored pamphlets. “Have you heard the word of Jes—” one of the women starts.
“No, thank you,” Beth says, and quickly shuts the door. So much for that, she thinks, and goes back to her book.
Her doorbell rings again and she almost ignores it but decides not to at the last second. She opens it.
This time, it’s a group of carolers, dressed in bright colors and carrying red poinsettias. They sing a few songs and she fishes out a few dollars from her wallet.
Finally, she gets back to her book and her now cold tea.
The doorbell rings again. She is definitely ignoring it this time.
At least, she tries to. But the doorbell is insistent and there’s accompanied knocking. After a good five minutes of ignoring it, she pushes to her feet and goes to open it.
“What do—” she starts. Then she sees who it is.
This time, it’s Benny Watts at her door, in all his cowboy hat and leather duster glory.
“About time you answered the door,” he says, his tone suggesting annoyance but the smirk on his face betraying him. He shoves a paper bag into her arms.
Surprised, she steps back from the doorway to let him. He hurries into the warmth of her apartment.
“What are you doing here?” Beth asks.
“Didn’t have plans,” he says and shrugs. He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He goes to her kitchen table, where she has a game set up. She’s been running through it herself, trying to decide what the stronger move is. Knight or queen. Benny ponders it for a second. He moves the knight.
“Sure,” she mutters. “Make yourself right at home.”
“Thanks,” Benny says cheekily. “I think I will.”
She rolls her eyes and then remembers the paper bag in her arms. She sets it down and starts rooting through it. In it is some slices of ham and a pie. “What’s this?” she asks.
Benny is still staring at the chess board. He switches the knight back to its original position and then goes for the queen move. “Oh,” he says. “Wexler’s mom insisted I bring some over when I left their house.”
Beth shifts. I thought he said he didn’t have plans. She almost presses him on it, almost calls him out. But something stops her. He’s here now and she finds she doesn’t really care what his other plans may have been.
She goes to study the board with him.
-
In February, a few days before Valentine’s Day, Jolene brings Benny up again.
“You finally gonna tell that skinny white boy how you feel?” Jolene asks. She’d met him when she’d visited for New Year’s and while she didn’t seem impressed, per se, she hadn’t outwardly disapproved. That’s something, Beth supposes.
“There’s nothing to say, really, Jolene,” Beth says into the phone.
“Sure, there isn’t,” Jolene says, but lets it go and starts to talk about the ski trip her man is planning.
Beth thinks. They were in the café the other day and one of their friends had started on one of their typical rants about the Man keeping them down. This time, the target was Valentine’s Day and how it was a capitalistic holiday only celebrated to sell cheap candy and over-priced flowers.
She’d noticed Benny nodding along with the others and she’d laughed and hadn’t thought too much about it. (There’s nothing to think about, she tells herself.)
-
Valentine’s Day is on a Saturday.
Benny comes over to Beth’s apartment, bringing a new stack of international chess magazines to dig into. Somehow, over the past couple of months, Beth’s place has become another one of their spots. It makes sense, really. It’s nicer during the day than Benny’s apartment. It has more sunlight (which isn’t a hard bar to beat since her apartment actually has windows) and is better for reading.
Neither mentions the day and they don’t talk much, but they spend hours in companionable silence, going over games in their heads, the latest international magazines or pamphlets, the newest chess book published. Sometimes, one will call the other over, point out a move they missed, or a particularly interesting commentary. But mostly, they let the day stretch over them, the warmth of the heater enveloping them in their own bubble.
Finally, Beth rises from her chair as her stomach growls. “I’m starving,” she says. “Let’s go eat.”
Benny looks up from his book, where he’s lazily stretched out and Beth is struck by how right he looks there, a piece on his color. “Okay,” he nods. They grab their coats and head to the diner.
It’s dark when they go out and Beth realizes that the whole day must have passed by.
The diner is decorated with red hearts and cheap plastic Cupid decorations and Beth grimaces a little. Benny doesn’t seem to notice, instead fiddling with his rings while they wait to be seated.
The waitress, who has a headband with red plastic hearts sticking out from it, drops off their menus and makes sure to point out the Valentine’s specials. They ignore those and order coffee and eggs and practice their Russian.
-
The next day, they meet at the park, their usual time, their usual place.
It’s a little less crowded, maybe from people recovering from a night of celebrations, Beth thinks idly.
Either way, they snag a table and set up for a game. They play a few speed rounds together and then go to play some other players.
Beth ends up seated across from a kindly-looking old man who ends up giving her a run for her money. It ends up being a tough game and they end up drawing a crowd. Benny hovers by her shoulder.
Beth makes her move and studies the board, wondering what he’ll do. The old man stares at the board for a while, contemplating, taking it with all the seriousness as if they were at the World Championship.
They stay like that, locked in, studying the board. Finally, the old man pushes back from the table and stretches, announcing he needs a coffee break. Beth nods, tearing her eyes away from the board. The crowd is a bit disappointed, and disperses while the old man goes off in search of a coffee.
Benny has pulled up a chair next to her and sits, still studying the board, his face intense. Then, he leans back, his smile broad.
“What?” she asks. Is he seeing something on the board she isn’t? She used to hate when that happens (she still does), but right now she’s more curious than anything.
He leans in to whisper to her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She shivers.
“If he goes for the knight, hit him with the king rook pawn.”
She smiles. She sees.
-
Benny walks her back to her apartment after the game (which she won).
“That was a good game,” he says.
“It was,” she agrees. She’s in a good mood, high off the win they achieved together.
“I like playing there,” he says.
“Me too,” Beth says. And she really does. She’s not surprised to hear it from Benny either, now.
“I like playing as a team,” he continues. They stop in front of her doorway.
Beth pauses, getting her keys out. She knows how this goes. “Just like the Russians?” she teases.
Benny brushes his hair from his eyes. “Well, maybe not exactly like the Russians,” he says. “We make a good team, Harmon,” he says quietly.
She opens her door. “Yeah, we do,” she says, though she’s not sure what she’s saying thank you about, what exactly they’re talking about. Not sure whether she should hope.
He nods. “See you around,” he says.
“See you around,” she says.
He goes to turn to walk her down her steps. And something in her heart clutches and she doesn’t know what it is that makes her this brave new person, whether it’s Benny or New York or something else, but she grabs his arm. “Wait,” she pants out. “Hey.”
He slowly turns back to her, his eyes meeting hers. “Yes?” he says.
She swallows. “I still like your hair.”
-
When Beth tells Jolene, she laughs and tells her she told her so.
“Good for you cracker,” Jolene says. “Good for you.”
-
They play. They don’t play grandmaster games or any other historic games. They are past playing as other people, playing other games. They only play as themselves now.
It’s old and it’s new, all at the same time. It’s New York City.