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Beatrice, I’ve rewritten this letter a hundred times trying to find a way to apologize for lying to you, for keeping things from you. I’m sorry for hurting you and leaving you when you’ve gone out of your way to make sure I would never be alone. The problem is, that regardless of whether I stay or not, I will lose you and I want you to live. I want you to be free. I want you to love and be loved even if it means that I’m not there to provide it. I love you, Bea. It’s taken me so much time to say it, if you only knew. Our time in Switzerland was something I wouldn’t trade for the world. How lucky I am to have your trust, understanding, support, and tenderness. I could tell you the very moment that I fell in love with you and every moment after how much I wanted to tell you or kiss you. I wish I could have more time with you. I wish I could have been more brave for the both of us. Please know that my heart will always seek you, in this life or the next. –Ava
The days felt like weeks; months even. She’d gone through it all thoroughly, over and over, in hopes that there would be something that would relieve the grief and absence she felt. With tear filled eyes she decided to go again, tear through all of their belongings to find something, anything that would make her feel normal, real. How she had regretted not telling Ava she loved her before allowing her, what she would hope, respite from battle she had fought. Her hands ripped through the drawers, clothing, bedsheets, the closet–
“Bea,” her name came out hoarse but Beatrice felt her more than heard her. She broke then, Camila’s hand on her shoulder felt like a weight adding onto the weight her heart wasn’t able to overcome. It was done. She’s gone. Camila came round to hold Beatrice as she wept. The rookie had been right all along. While there was nothing wrong with the love that Beatrice had had for Ava, Ava was never really her’s. Ava was too free of a soul for her; she lived in the here and now and Beatrice could never let her hair down long enough to enjoy that. It was too risky and Bea didn’t live by taking any risks. Her decisions were very logical and fully fleshed out. There were repercussions to everything and her mind worked like the wind, swiftly and briskly. It was a way of surviving; a learned trait she’d gained at a young age. When people didn’t accept her in society, it felt like there was a target on her back–even if it might have been untrue–and she was just trying to prevail. To be the best. To overcome. To be the protector. To be someone that was accepted of their own divine truth and life.
Bea’s hands clamored at Camila’s shoulders, the weakness in her finally giving in. She’s not here. “Why can’t I find her?” She sobbed quietly into her shoulder. She should be here. Beatrice was panicking and Camila was still finding out how to approach the situation. Nobody had seen the sister warrior in an uncontrolled panic. For the first time in a long time, Beatrice was allowing herself to be vulnerable, to let people see the feelings behind the mask. It was gut-wrenching despair and Camila could feel her own emotions taking over her. Ava was light for Camila but air for Beatrice. Everyone in Cat’s Cradle felt the impact of Ava’s absence. It was in combination with the loss of Lilith. It was the burden that Beatrice had to carry with Ava being gone. She didn’t want to let her go but if she didn’t, Ava still wouldn’t be here. Ava had a chance on the other side, right? There was a fighting chance that Ava lived, somewhere where there was no pain or agony but only recovery and eternity as Dr. Salvius had theorized. Beatrice’s shaking slowed as Camila rocked back and forth with her. Or was Ava simply gone? What if Reya had taken the halo from her? Would Ava still be able to find her way back or would it kill her?
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Upon reading your letter I feel foolish to have somehow disregarded your feelings–our experiences. I’m writing from the Alps with the highest faith that you find your way back. Your way back to me. I, somehow, allowed myself to fall prey to the possibility that I wouldn’t ever find you again; that you would be forever lost to me. You wanted me to feel free, and while I do in most cases, I find myself cross. I can’t seem to feel free without you. I found solace in your presence and regret that I didn’t allow the time for us to both be free. I’m struggling to find you in the simplest places. The places I remember you fully and the places that we shared briefly. I stay in wait to see you walk through the door or to see you joining the fight or causing chaos as you usually do; though I admit I even miss the unpleasant feeling about you falling out of line. If that is all that comes to me if and when I see you again, I will fight alongside you and give myself to you fully. I miss you. I love you. I know it’s too late to say, but I do. I want to teach you how to dance. I want to give you all that you need, whether it be traveling or otherwise. I feel empty in our previously occupied apartment; that I’m leading a life that is not what either of us wanted, yet, I can’t help but to have you at the forefront of my mind. I see you sometimes; whether it be in town, at the bar, or in our apartment. I can’t explain how much I long to be with you or simply be around you. It’s almost as if you’re forbidden to me. Perhaps that’s how I felt all along. It’s even deeper now. And I realize, while my heart feels so very full, it is also so fucking empty. Where can I find the light when you aren’t here?
Ava wiped at her cheeks before pulling the next letter out of the stack. Her hands lie in pause at the wax seal and she took time to roam her fingers over Beatrice’s initials. The letters were the most personal she had gotten considering the guarded Beatrice she battled prior to making her choice and so she took care to see another part of her. Maybe a part that she had missed or a part she had never gotten to know. She waited. She noted as she looked at the thickness of the compilation of letters. The pain in her grew. It reminded her of all the letters she spoke into existence to her mother. So many letters left unread without answer. Did Beatrice feel like that? Left? Abandoned? She pried open the next envelope carelessly, needing to know and feel Beatrice again after what had felt a lifetime to her.
“I’ve decided to write multiple times throughout the day as I cannot seem to let you go. It feels wrong traveling without you. I imagine the places you’d like to go and, even though I would never see myself there, I dream of you dancing on the beach or in the city so vibrantly. I picked up something that I felt would fit you naturally. I know how much you like a good pattern. As I walk the streets of France and cruise their waters I think of you. While I generally don’t allow you the credit, I can say that you were right. I’ve never allowed myself the freedom to experience the beauties of traveling. I admit, embarrassingly, that I rummaged through the clothing you left and that I couldn’t seem to leave without some piece of you, so I took your cap. I have yet to wear it but I keep it pinned to my belt hoop. It was the one thing you absolutely decided upon when I took you for your first mall trip. So picky, might I say. You didn’t have much to say about anything else, save for the overalls and converse. When I see you again, I will have a closet full of the items you found, “cool.”
Ava stopped reading. Eyes, face, and ears full of rage. Rage that she had missed this. Without preamble she began tearing open the following seven letters and skimming them to see a constant feeling of loss. The hole in Ava’s heart grew impossibly wider. She wanted Beatrice to find herself, visit the places she never got to enjoy without supervision, and live as her own without anyone reprimanding her. Beatrice was traveling, had traveled, but there was one common statement in her letters: “I imagine you in the early hours of the morning, smile turned towards the sun as you guide me to the tides hand in hand–you leading me down the streets of Cordoba to show me the architecture–you showing me the art of the churches–you pulling me into the shallow ends of a pool to show me you know how to swim in the deep end.” Beatrice wanted to travel with her. She wanted to bask in the freedom and happiness that they’d feel in unison.
“Ava, my darling, I’ve had an inconsumable feeling to come back to Marseille. You always said France showed art in its purest form so I am here. I’ve walked the streets, visited museums, and taken tours to learn the history and I would be remiss to say that you were right all along. Still, my heart yearns to be with you in the place we made home. I hope I made it feel like home, at least. It’s the one place I shared a bed with you for the longest. I regret that I couldn’t appreciate our time together for what it was and as I embark on these travel marks, I can’t help but to feel this pull towards Switzerland. Unbeknownst to me, we concentrated our efforts there. It’s a place where I think I might feel you, in a spiritual sense or otherwise. My heart doesn’t know the difference. Perhaps that’s where I need to be–”
Ava didn’t read past that. It was all she needed to know. The Cat’s Cradle had served its purpose by providing what Ava really wanted. A family. A link. A special person just for her. The one that would always be by her side. She didn’t know if Bea meant that but their time in Switzerland was what she based her need off of and it didn’t take much to convince the clergy.
It took a bit to find where she needed to be, considering the bar a landmark. They’d walked home enough times for her to know the way home and, if she were honest, it was her saving grace. She wasn’t as good with the streets as Beatrice was. She walked along the path she guessed, assuming better ways in her travels. While Ava had grown accustomed to asking others for help, it had been harder for Bea to ask for guidance being the person that everyone went to. It wasn’t hard to find through the process of elimination of where Bea would be. Would she be there waiting? Did she have her own life? Had she met someone ne?<,/em> It wasn’t out of question as she knew that Beatrice was
Ava had quietly entered the apartment unannounced, fearful of causing disarray. She stopped midway through the door when she heard someone running the kitchen sink. She sidled her way through and closed the door without making a sound. The apartment was somehow virtually the same as they had left when they had left for Madrid. She’d always hated the blank walls and had fought Beatrice to put some pictures up but she always countered with, “we can’t leave a trace if we leave.” She tiptoed round the corner and caught the edge of a frame against her perpendicularly. As she slowly walked across the room, she found her sought after photographs of them and their time in Switzerland. Her heart ached and sunk at the same time. “Was this what she really wanted this whole time despite her responsibility?” Ava took in every piece to see they were all a part of the collection of photos that she had taken prior to their leaving. She did want this then. When she turned the corner to see the pictures framed on the adjacent wall her heart skipped a beat. She always wanted this. Her hand came up to touch the photo when she heard cabinets closed.
There were many ways she could define Beatrice: delicate as a raindrop, unique as a wood’s grain, and as strong as a lion. She watched as Beatrice wiped down the counters and stove in preparation of lunch as she always had. It was a routine that Ava didn’t understand but didn’t bother to question, in fact, it was one of the things that she grew to love about her. Her incessant need to be clean when she was occupying an area and leaving that same space. Ava was quick to cook and rinse cookware to wash for later and it was one of Bea’s pet peeves of them living together. It was simple. It was nothing, yet it made her heart ache. It was creepy. This. Standing there watching as she added vegetables to a pot, turning up the heat with one hand and adding water with another. Beatrice wrapped in a familiar flannel and a good pair of joggers was an unknown sight to see; in and out of an apartment. She hadn’t ever decided to dress comfortably; always wearing presentable clothing for whatever may come. It was favorable in Ava’s taste and also questionable. She thought amongst herself, “it’s almost as if she’s taken every bit of her own comfort and flipped it.” Wait. Are those mine?” Upon further inspection she realized Beatrice was indeed wearing her clothes. All the time she was away she had hoped that B would feel her reaching out to her, to tell her would find a way back. Perhaps in this way, Ava was always wrapped around her providing the reassurance that there was a chance, that Ava wouldn’t abandon her and by god the shorter woman couldn’t. It was selfish of her to assume B would wait considering she had no idea how much time had passed but considering the letters, it was enough time to feel at loss.
Beatrice swirled the pot with a spoon and Ava turned back around the wall and held her breath. She didn't want to surprise her, she knew what Beatrice was capable of and while she had learned her offensive moves quite well, she wasn’t sure if they had changed. So it was a wait and with every minute Ava grew closer to her, enough away to watch her simmer a culmination of ingredients in a pan. She was so close. Her hand reached out and nearly touched her back before her fingers curled inwards when Beatrice’s head dipped down. She turned down the heat and dipped her chin to her right shoulder, eyes closed.
I’m here. I’m finally here. Ava’s mind kept repeating. I’m here. Don’t you feel me?” Ava closed her eyes to feel Beatrice in the way that she assumed the latter had felt her, in ghost-like arms that filled the empty parts of her heart and body.
It was through the silence that Ava heard whimpering but she dared not open her eyes. Beatrice wiped her eyes and turned, reaching her arm out to reach for something tangible and when she felt cloth her eyelids sprang open and before she thought best, she thrust her hand out for Ava to catch.
“I can’t tell you how I’ve longed–” Ava says and she’s cut off with the biggest hug she’s ever received. No reprimand about how she’s caught her off guard or some snarky remark about how her humor isn’t funny in times like these but an honest, emotional meeting that only makes Ava’s arms close automatically around her. She’s not sure it’s what Beatrice needs but she whispers into her hair and ear, “I’ve longed to have you in my arms.” It made her cry desperately into her neck, she felt nearly all of her weight when she continued to reassure her, “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here and I fucking–” her voice cracked, “I love you.”