the scene where beth walks into her hotel room in russia (***) is the exact scene i thought about writing her story. and i'm so glad i did. this story has elegance, and purity, and i knew i wanted to translate it all to writing. to tell the story strictly from beths point of view, all her emotions and thoughts.
thank you so so much for reading, voting, and loving her story as much as i do.
i love you all dearly, this is for all of you!
xx

s1e7 end game
part two :

ready

i shook my head, denying the offer of alcohol from my guard for protection.

he sighed, "been to russia before?"

i shook my head again, "have you?"

"once or twice," he took his first sip, "there's a few rules." i closed my eyes as if not to roll them, "you have to be ready for anything. one, stay in your hotel at all times unless you're with me. two, don't answer the door or phone unless it's me-"

"how will i know if it's you if i don't answer it?"

he huffed, "three, no drinking."

i lowered my eyelids, "you just offered me a drink."

"that was a test." i smiled a little.

"and let me know if any of the russian players try to speak with you, a signal, note... especially borgov," he cleared his throat, "i want to know. immediately."

a lump gathered in my throat, and i looked back up at him, "what exactly would a signal look like?"

"could be anything. i don't play chess."

moscow, 1986

pouring rain welcomed us in russia, and i wiped the droplets off of my skirt as i sat in the cab.

the hotel was quaint, but fancy. the driver gave me my bags and my guard led me in. my suite was one room, a couch sat across from a rectangle table and a bed on the opposite wall.

(***) "this is definitely better than mine." he sighed, "remember, stay in your room at all times. don't leave the hotel unless you're with me." i nodded.

"knock two times fast and one slow?"

he grunted, and left.

it was then my eyes fell upon the painting above the couch. a women, in a blue dress, stood looking at a piano. one of her hands lay on the keys, and her eyes fell to a point far in the distance. it reminded me of mother, her blue blouse and the way her eyes would lose themselves as she played.

the painting was beautiful, and it brought me comfort as the rain hit my window harder. standing here, in my room in russia, it was hard to push down the anxiety in my every cell. i knew i had an extreme opportunity here, and people back home counting on me. i had an opportunity to chance, to prove to everyone i wasn't a drunk loser, i was a champion. i knew, finally, that i had a chance. i closed my eyes, and opened them to look at the painting again. in a way, it made me feel like mother was here with me, cheering me on like she always was. i remembered her words,

"yes, this'll do nicely."

♖ ♞ ♖ ♞ ♖ ♞

the matches were the epitome of taunting.
low lamps hung from the ceiling, allowing enough light to illuminate the board and nothing else. i wore my best dress, and walked as fast as i could while looking natural to my first match. i didn't even notice the crowds applause until i sat down.

breath beth, i'd say in my head, you are ready. you are ready.

i hoped that this time, if i said it enough, it would be true. i was more ready now, than i ever have been.

they would start our clocks, one at a time, he would make his way down to my table starting the whites time. each click, each chance to fail, each opportunity to win.

each chance to show benny i'm not a drunk.
to show beltik that i'm not a failure.
to show Jolene i wasn't a waste of money.
and to make mom proud.

i had studied up until now. i had sobered up. and if there was one thing i knew for sure now, is that there were no distractions here in russia.

this was all i had.
it was now or never.

27 moves later and i had my first win under my belt, a group of fans met me outside the doors. i gave a pleading girl an autograph. and another one a grin.

a foul dinner and even shorter match later, i was able to walk the town a whole five feet away from my guard. my checkered blouse kept me warm against the chilled russia air.

i stopped as i passed an alleyway in the park. it was filled, though, with what must've been forty tables, and eighty men around them.
playing chess. it was heartwarming, actually, and gave me the inspiration i needed to walk back to my next match. i shook the nerves out of my fingers, and took a deep breath as i sat down.

the next win, and borgov left his game to look at mine. his chair screeching, and his player stunned, he stood over my board as one does a disciplined child. sternness and anger clouded his eyes, but deep within them was determination. finding my flaws and exploiting them was his only goal.

good thing i made sure not to leave any.

a slightly bigger crowd greeted me as i left, and i struggled to meet everyone's eyes. it was easy last time, for they were quiet and kind speaking. this crowd had roared, all yelling for my attention at once. my guard didn't let me stand still for too long though, muttering something about weakness and pushing me in the cab home.

two more wins, and the crowd had doubled in size. but i fought to sign all the papers that stuck out of the mass of limbs, and smiled to as many as i could.

this is what you do this for, beth. the little beth in me smiled. i was here, in russia. playing chess. just like what my ten year old eyes saw and dreamed about from a magazine.

♖ ♞ ♖ ♞ ♖ ♞

Luchenko.
at first glance, a freak.
at first match, pure genius.

his fat fingers combed through his white frizzy hair as he walked to my table. grandmaster before my birth, the oldest player here, and defeater of Alekhine, this match raised some risks. i had worked through his games for years now, and knew who i was up against.

he was in no way the player he once was, but threatening all the same. and i was playing black. i took a breath.

now, i was finally playing the russians. i let the breath out. i had to be careful with this one.

the crowd that now went beyond my eyesight chanted my name as i left the match, and my guard pushed me closer to the cab door.

i let him. tonight, i was tired.

"i don't understand did we win or did we lose?"

i tried not to laugh at the man, "we adjourned."

"meaning?"

"meaning we didn't finish."

needing sleep more than anything, i walked slowly back to my room. the hallways were long and echoey, and my eyelids heavier by each step. that didn't stop me from catching the harsh whispers from the end of the hall though, and i blinked rapidly to clear my tired eyes.

borgov stood over a table, which of course held a chess board, and faced Luchenko. unexpected, but not necessarily shocked either. it was a power move, i'd give them that.

i didn't know if i should've been angry, but i wasn't. was this a sign? one i should be telling my guard? i figured not, as it wasn't something that was sent to me directly or posed as a threat.

the men left the door open, and my room was doors down. who really had the upper hand here. amateurs.

i took as many pieces from the board to memory as i could, inching a bit closer, and walked briskly to my room. two could play at that game, luchenko.

borgov had helped him with his attack, sure. but his skill in ability to respond to mine, even borgov was unfamiliar with that territory.

i brought all i had to my next game, and he met my eyes an hour in.

"excellent." he smiled at me, his eyes covered by his white hair and i took my move, "what a brilliant recovery."

i blinked.

he reached his hand over, stopping our clocks, "i resign, with relief."

i swore my heart stopped, but i forced my next words, "i've always admired your work, mr luchenko."

his smile didn't waver, "you are how old again?"

"i'm twenty-"

"don't tell me." he muttered, "it'll only drive a stake through my heart once more." i chuckled, shaking away the feeling i had gotten back when townes asked me the same question, and denied the answer.

"you are a marvel, my dear." his eyes seemed to glisten, and i tried to hold eye contact, my cheeks blushing, "i may have just played the best chess player of my life." i had lost my ability to breath, so he stood up, bowed, and walked away.

♖ ♞ ♖ ♞ ♖ ♞

i laid on my bed, and for the first time in a while, i thought about my mother. my real mother.

i remembered this one day, driving along a street back in lexington. i was just barely seven at the time, sitting in my back of my moms car. i felt the speed accelerating.

"mama, who was that?" i asked, my voice small. we had just visited a mans house, and i remember watching from the car window as my mother begged him for something, "who was that?"

"a mistake." she swallowed loudly, "a rounding error." she picked her eyes up a bit as tears fell, "it's just a problem i got to solve."

"what problem?"

"what i do with you."

she entered the bridge at a racing speed, hitting another car head on. fast enough so we went under it. she got trampled in the crash, but with some heavy machinery the police got me out with barely a scratch.

"close your eyes."

the last words my mother ever said to me. a single tear strolling down her cheek. i wished she would have just said nothing.

i took the rest of my pills in my hands, glaring at them like dirt, and flushed them down the toilet.

i was done with those now, too. with the memories of my mother, the hauntings of my past, and the uncertainty of my future. there was only one thing i knew.

i was playing borgov tomorrow,
and i was ready to play against him.
i had made it this far, with no pills and no training.
i was ready.

for real this time.