Chapter Text
“Camila, no.”
Beatrice holds her phone between her ear and shoulder as she carefully stacks used books onto the paint-chipped shelf in front of her. She can tell these particular books were donated by locals — a lot of the covers have faded from sun exposure and she spent several minutes shaking sand out from between the pages — but worn books are better than none.
Usually the used books she receives end up being six copies of the same smutty romance novel, kids books that have drawings in the pages, and some yellowing copies of whatever’s in the high school English curriculum these days. None of it is particularly groundbreaking content, but books aren’t getting any cheaper, and she’s just glad the shop can provide some alternative to breaking the bank with printed paper.
“Camila, you can’t keep mentioning me to the single women on your tour,” she responds, neatly arranging the books for an unnecessary amount of time. She has this conversation with Camila maybe twice a week, so it’s an endless carousel of the same responses. “And you absolutely cannot tell them where I work. The last time you sent someone over here, she leaned over the counter and her—” She stops herself, clearing her throat. “You know what? Never mind.”
Feeling satisfied with her work, she takes her phone in hand and wanders to the back of the room, rolling her eyes as Camila makes fun of her.
“Yes, I am capable of saying boobs, thank you.”
(She lowers her voice at ‘boobs’, out of habit, like the boarding school nuns who are currently in another hemisphere are actually in the walls, or something.)
Camila — her closest friend and, unfortunately, her biggest cheerleader — begins to tell a story about their other friend Mary and her recent dating adventures. Beatrice takes a seat on the wooden stool behind the counter, surveying her temporary kingdom. It’s early afternoon and the place has been deserted for hours. The only sounds are the fans in the room and the seagulls enjoying the tepid spring air outside. Clouds pass by the window behind her in a lazy manner. Not enough to indicate rain, but just enough to provide the sky with some drama.
She picks up her glasses, wiping the lenses with her shirt before placing them on her nose. The world around her shifts into focus. It’s not unusual for her to be bored at work — especially during the off-season — but she’d much rather be out on the water on a day like today. It’s not too hot outside, but the water will be gorgeous. She could be with her board, letting the ocean sift through her troubles. She could be diving with Mary, exploring the pocket worlds below the surface that are scattered along the coastline.
But she feels safe here, weirdly. Like if the entire world was burning outside, she has this unspoken belief that she could come in here to hide out and everything would be okay. Like the walls of this place would protect her. And that’s unusual, because she has spent so much time feeling unsafe. Unsure. Here, she can exhale and not worry about the next time she has to hold her breath.
Everything about the shop feels like home. The sun-bleached, salt-weathered wooden sign nailed above the door that reads SUPERION BOOKS in large green letters. The bell above the front door, designed to notify a customer’s entry, despite the shop being so small that it’s near-impossible to miss someone entering. The short, wooden fence-like structures that divide the bookstore from its cafe counterpart, even if Beatrice is sure they’re supposed to be outdoor garden decorations. The tall bookshelves that are in desperate need of a repaint, carrying an assorted array of fiction and nonfiction, new and used. The distinct forest green colour that washes over the entire space like a wave. The potted and hanging plants spaced around the room.
Her job involves recommending books, making the occasional coffee, and keeping plants alive. She has very little to complain about.
(And despite having to sit on a stool whenever she needs a break, she has immaculate posture.)
She even loves her job when Camila tries to play matchmaker by sending poor, unsuspecting women into the shop with the false hope that they’re going to get a date out of it. She prefers the days when Camila herself drops by to keep her company, spending hours talking animatedly at the counter about everything and nothing. Not a single town event has gone unexamined at the Superion Books front counter.
Two years ago, when Beatrice breezed into town with nothing more than a duffel bag and enough emotional baggage to fill the Pacific Ocean, Camila became the sister she never had. And honestly, the sister she never thought she wanted as an only child. Patience and care are gifts given freely by Camila, the kind that wraps around Beatrice like a blanket. Camila doesn’t know everything, of course. Some parts she protects, or perhaps holds hostage, in the darkened corners of her mind. She lets the shadows wrap around to obscure them from view, but as she’s learned, nothing ever truly vanishes.
But the town of Suncliff Beach is a miracle. At least, to her. It’s helped her in immeasurable ways, that she’s sure no other town in the world could. Ways she knows would sound ridiculous to anyone she described it to. Because it’s just a town, and it’s just the sea, which nobody around here is a stranger to. To Beatrice, it’s the two arms that carried her when she was made of concrete. It’s the oxygen when she was suffocating. It’s the warmth that moves through her veins like liquid molten.
And while spectres remain in her periphery, her heart anchored to an immovable beast, Suncliff lifted her from the darkest of parts. The parts she thought would chain her down to the bottom of the sea for eternity. The parts that might’ve killed her if she’d remained immobile. And it’s not just the people who soothe, but the ocean too. The sea breeze that tickles her spine. The whales breaching off the coast as they return south, calves in tow. The dramatic cliffs that provide a glorious backdrop to any day. The lighthouse at sunset, and the breathtaking view of the stars, the lack of light pollution creating a tapestry across the sky. The salt water stings the burns of her past, and helps her skin grow anew.
It’s an atmosphere that can’t be fabricated or replicated. It’s a tourist town, sure, but she’s never been anywhere that felt more authentic. If someone told her it was a living entity, capable of breath and emotion and light, she wouldn’t completely doubt it.
She leans over to switch the nearest fan on. Their old air conditioning unit needs replacing, and despite the shop often trapping heat, the weather isn’t hot enough to justify running it this time of year. Tourists will think otherwise, of course. Peak whale watching season in Suncliff is before summer arrives, and even then, they think the weather is too hot. She says the word ‘humidity’ so many times a week that it lost its meaning a long time ago.
Instead, the windows are open, the sweet sea air wafting through, and it feels like floating. The heat is pleasant, like an afterglow. The smell of salt air is a balm that soothes, and Beatrice can’t ever get enough.
They use both large ceiling fans and portable fans around the shop to keep the air flowing. A small one sits on the counter and points directly at her on the lowest setting, lazily blowing the strands of hair that have fallen from her bun throughout the day.
“I appreciate that you put in so much effort, Camila, I do.” She is as sincere as she can be, which sometimes she feels is not enough. Growing up feeling like you were shoved into a canvas bag to be stifled can do that to a person.
Her fingers drum against the worn paperback novel she’d been reading before Camila called. She knows Camila won’t take her words personally, and she’ll continue to try with unwavering optimism and kindness. Beatrice loves her for that, and she’ll tell her as much. But it is always the friends who are happily taken that try to play matchmaker.
Beatrice sighs. “I know you’re only looking out for me, but I—”
A loud crash is a magnet that pulls her attention away from the conversation. The front door of the shop slams open so hard that the doorbell is immediately silenced before it can properly ring. The sound startles her, and she almost drops her phone, her whole body jolting. A woman stands in the doorway, breathing heavily with a light flush on her cheeks and chest. She’s wearing a sleeveless white top with dark blue shorts, and Beatrice can see the hints of sunburn on her shoulders. On her head sits a partially-faded black bucket hat with ‘MILF’ written on it, and underneath in tiny letters ‘(Man I Love Frogs)’.
They’ve never had a burglar in the shop, but this would certainly be the strangest one.
“Oh my God.” The words spill out of her mouth like water, to the point where Beatrice almost doesn’t understand what she’s saying. This woman’s urgency makes her think she should call triple zero preemptively. “I am so sorry. Did I break it?”
That sincerity Beatrice tries so hard to convey in a meaningful way? This woman has it in spades.
“Camila, I have to go.” She pauses, her eyes locked on the woman who is now standing on her toes in a futile attempt to examine the bell. She’s clearly too short to see it properly, and it’d be amusing if Beatrice’s heart didn’t feel like it was trying to flee from her chest. “Yes, a customer. Yes, I will. Okay, goodbye.”
The woman jiggles the door slightly, and the bell still makes a ringing sound, but it’s slightly distorted. “Shit.” She turns towards Beatrice, who has hung up and gotten off her stool. The woman looks genuinely panicked, like she’s being chased. “Is this a ‘you break, you buy’ kind of thing? Is it a hundred year old antique? ‘Cause I only have, like, twenty bucks and a dream.”
The world around Beatrice goes fuzzy as she hones in on this woman’s voice. There’s a melody to it. Her mind is a house and it’s playing softly on an old radio in the other room. It’s her appearance that reveals she’s a tourist — Beatrice has become an expert at spotting them over the years — but the accent intrigues her. It’s a subtle mix of multiple places, which is interesting, because this girl can’t be older than her early twenties.
And she’s not in any life-threatening danger at all. She’s simply worried about the doorbell that came in a pack of three.
“It’s a bell,” Beatrice responds, stupidly. “It’s from Amazon.”
She doesn’t mean to sound so deadpan, but she’s still a little dazed from the initial crash that could’ve woken the dead. She hadn’t been expecting a customer for the rest of the afternoon, especially with the ‘cafe closed’ sign JC had haphazardly stuck to the front window earlier in the day. Still, it’s a little like a mirage in a desert, because as Beatrice approaches her, she has to blink a couple of times.
This woman is glowing, to put it mildly. Beatrice isn’t sure whether it’s the skin, the smile, the attitude, or all of the above. There has to be a warning label somewhere, because she is radiating something and it can’t possibly be legal. The sun just agrees with some people, and this woman has been touched by God. He has his favourites, she is well aware. Surely she’s flat-out staring at this point, but looking away feels even more dangerous. Like she’ll vanish into thin air if she does.
Beatrice knows Camila didn’t send this one.
Time has definitely slowed in her mind somewhat, because she feels like an hour passes before the woman responds. She figures that regarding an attractive person for the first time in slow motion can only mean trouble.
“Oh! That’s good. If it is important though, I can definitely scrounge up some change.” The woman’s head bobs, not missing a beat. Beatrice can barely keep track of her energy as it sparks across the room. It’s been injected into her spine and now she can’t move or speak. She’s helplessly tethered to this awkward part of the room which isn’t near anything to lean on. She also becomes painfully aware of her hands and the fact that she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“I—” Beatrice stutters, praying that her mind untangles itself. She feels the neurological pathways in her brain slowly reconnect, one by one. “No, it’s— It’s really nothing.” If she’s being honest, a broken doorbell captures the essence of this place perfectly.
“You know,” the woman begins, her breathing finally slowing, “for that, I should win the No-Bell prize.”
That causes Beatrice to stop. The entire conversation shifts gears. “Wow. That was…” It’s so bad that it’s kind of brilliant. Who has bell puns in their back pocket just waiting to be used?
“Spectacular?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I—” For the second time, Beatrice falters. Her eyes roam over the woman, wondering where on Earth she came from and why she’s in such a hurry. “Are you… looking for anything in particular?”
“Yes!” The woman’s eyes light up, as if she’d forgotten what she was doing here to begin with. Beatrice doesn’t even remember what she’s doing here anymore, and she’s the one earning the paycheck. The woman straightens her back and takes a breath, as if she’s about to deliver a presentation in front of a corporate boardroom. “I’m Ava and I need every single book you have on whales.”
Beatrice’s eyes widen slightly. That’s… not what she’d been expecting. Which is a little stupid, because this is a bookstore and Ava is looking for books. And this is a town known for whale watching and she wants to know about whales. Then again, Ava is not what she’d been expecting, so she’ll cut herself some slack. “Every…?”
“Yes!” Ava exclaims again, her eyes sparkling. Like onyx, Beatrice thinks, because in this light, she’s unable to tell what shade her unimaginably dark eyes are. Despite the colour, they’re somehow bright and burning. They could devour, and the thought makes her heart jerk. “I’m going whale watching tomorrow and I have so many questions. And, yeah, I know that’s kinda the tour guide’s job — and I’m sure they’re great—”
(They are. Beatrice knows them personally.)
“—but I just want to know everything.” The passion causes her eyes to crackle like firelight, and Beatrice thinks back to everything she knows about biology to see how that can be natural. There’s something about the way she says ‘everything’ followed by an exhale that makes her feel like she’s taking a step, but there’s nothing underneath her feet. “And, y’know, bonus points if the books have pictures.”
Somewhere between thinking about Ava’s eyes and her finishing her sentence, Beatrice’s brain reboots slowly, like an old computer with the dial-up sound whirring in the background. “Well… I think we can manage that.”
Playing along causes Ava to grin and oh, okay, that’s another thing. Beatrice inhales slightly and holds it until the most dazzling, genuine smile she has ever seen vanishes into an expression of gratification. As she re-learns basic human functions in record time, she turns around and leads her to the nonfiction section. She’s not sure she can trust herself to be in customer service autopilot right now, but Ava doesn’t seem to notice that some kind of demon has possessed Beatrice’s mind during this encounter.
“Oh my God, I’m so rude,” Beatrice hears behind her, and she turns to see Ava has removed her hat. Her hair is cut into a bob, golden brown in colour, and most definitely highlighted by the sun. She runs a hand through it, shaking it out messily before folding her hat into an impossibly small shape and sticking it in the back of her shorts.
Beatrice’s eyes flicker to the hat as she folds it so she isn’t caught staring at her hair. “Is your ‘women want me, fish fear me’ hat in the wash?” She assumes the joke is safe to make in Ava’s presence, given that MILFs are a part of the conversation.
Ava grins again, like causing a woman she’s known for sixty seconds to crack a joke means she’s unlocked a secret to the universe. “No, but it is in my suitcase.”
Beatrice’s smile reaches her eyes and warmth floods her body. It’s a serene warmth, instead of the anxious flushes she’s used to having, and she isn’t sure where it’s coming from. Actually, that’s the part that scares her. This isn’t typical Beatrice behaviour. She needs to be studied in a lab.
She doesn’t realise just how many books they have on whales until she’s standing right in front of them. Everything from kids picture books to hefty guides. Ava immediately sidles up next to her, picking up a hardcover with a humpback on the front.
“Wow.” She frowns as she spies the price tag. “Books here are expensive.”
“Hm,” Beatrice responds, amused. “Yes, they are.”
“Okay… well, my twenty bucks and a dream may not be enough for this classy joint.”
Beatrice looks around at the ‘classy joint’ in question. There’s a hanging plant above her that’s stubbornly shedding dead leaves onto the chipped bookshelf below. “Wanting every book may have been a little ambitious.”
Ava’s eyes suddenly illuminate again with a mischievous glint, and with the natural light flooding through the nearby window, Beatrice finally solves the mystery of her eye colour. They're the richest, darkest brown, which is possibly the most devastating outcome to Beatrice, because it’s a tender colour, like the concept of warmth itself, and every other shade suddenly pales in comparison.
(Quite literally.)
Meanwhile, Ava is entirely oblivious to Beatrice’s divine discovery, instead looking at her like she’s got a poorly-hidden secret. “What if I… proposition you?”
She’s so caught up with Ava’s eyes that saliva immediately gets caught in her throat at the suggestion. She widens her eyes, resisting the urge to splutter everywhere.
Ava reacts swiftly. “Oh. Fuck, no— that’s not—” To Beatrice’s surprise, she laughs. “I don’t even know your name. I mean, that hasn’t stopped me before, but— I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. You’re very attractive, though. I mean, fuck, the whole tanned-freckled-glasses thing is really working for you.”
Beatrice’s heart is no longer in the vicinity of her ribs, and she has no idea what to say except: “Beatrice.”
“Huh?”
“My name. Beatrice.”
“Oh?” A smile curls playfully on her lips and yes, Beatrice realises that was certainly the wrong time to present her name due to the context of the conversation. Luckily, Ava is merciful, but she has a feeling that won’t last forever. “Well, Beatrice, I have a professional proposition for you.”
Beatrice’s throat is dry. She feels like she’s spinning in circles. “Professional is fine.”
“Okay, so,” Ava clasps her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I don’t have money, but I can offer you services. And yes, the dirty services haven’t been ruled out yet.” She gives Beatrice what can only be described as a half-finger gun, which is more endearing than anything else. “I will make you the best cocktail you’ve ever had. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering ‘Ava, how could you possibly do that? You don’t have access to a bar’, but that’s just it. It’s drinks and entertainment. See, we go to a bar — and I know this is starting to sound like I’m seducing you, but just go with me — we go to a bar and we’ll distract the bartender, and I’ll hop over the counter and serve you. Boom! The best cocktail you’ve ever had. More than one, if you love it. And I know these books are more expensive than a cocktail, but I’m desperate, and I really hope you’ll take pity on me and just let me read them here.” Her admittedly-impressive spiel ends with her sticking her lower lip out, and Beatrice wonders just how often she gets everything she wants. “I promise not a single page will be dog-eared. If I remember.”
It’s possibly the least professional offer she’s ever received, but much in line with this version of herself who is being puppeteered by an external entity, she finds herself considering the offer. Beatrice, who is so often a stickler for rules, to the point where her friends make fun of her for it. She doesn’t care if it’s a cheesy line, but simply put, there’s just something about Ava. Whatever carefree nature this woman has been blessed with is contagious. There’s a part of her that makes Beatrice want to match her energy, even if it’s not something she would usually do.
Also, this Ava seems to have such an impact on people that Beatrice already knows she doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face.
Her boss isn’t here to scold her. JC isn’t here to make fun of her. She’s sure none of the locals are going to be in for the rest of the day. So what’s the harm, really? Perhaps they can let go of the whole ‘let’s commandeer a bar’ idea, because there’s no way Beatrice isn’t going to be recognised and get caught. But there’s this pull deep in the centre of her chest. She doesn’t want Ava to leave yet. She wants to continue to revolve hopelessly around her, caught in her gravity. Even if it’s only temporary.
“Alright,” she replies simply, and it’s worth it just to see Ava’s eyes become the sun once again. “I will let you read them here if you promise not to hijack a bar.”
Ava covers her mouth with both hands, but Beatrice can still see a wide smile behind her fingers. “That was… way easier than I thought. Beatrice, you have saved my life today.” If there’s another thing she’s quickly learning about her, it’s that Ava’s just a touch dramatic. “I promise I’ll take care of them like they’re my own children, cross my heart. And I absolutely owe you that drink. Even if you don’t wanna hijack a bar, I will bring the whole bar to you. Promise!”
Ava grabs a bunch of books and begins stacking them into a teetering pile in her arms.
When she catches Beatrice staring, she throws her a wink. “Sorry, I have no shelf control.” She begins to chuckle at her own pun and while Beatrice has never been pushed out of a plane without a parachute on, she has a feeling the swooping in her stomach shares some resemblances.
And the puns. It’s cute. Beatrice really wishes it wasn’t.
As the pile in Ava’s arms begins to grow, she frowns. “Would you like some help?”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to bother you. Thank you though!” Once she’s finished, she skips over to one of the two lounge chairs nestled amongst the bookshelves, somehow managing to hold on to every book. A palm frond from a nearby plant hangs over her head as she curls herself up against a cushion. She opens three different books at random pages and begins flipping through.
Beatrice is left standing blankly in the nonfiction section, staring at the wall and fiddling with the rings on her fingers. It’s an anxious habit she has, but she feels an unfamiliar buzzing sensation at the base of her spine that rises to her shoulders. She’s keenly aware of Ava’s presence on the other side of the room, and her world finally widens enough for her to realise that yes, other people do exist outside of this building. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, but she suddenly feels like she’s on the edge of a cliff with the wind buffeting around her. There’s an omniscient voice in her ear telling her to leap.
Beatrice is left with very little to do except go sit behind the counter again. Back to her stool, back to her book. It’s close enough to Ava that she can hear whenever she turns a page over the whirring of the fans, but she’s far enough away that it doesn’t feel intrusive and any conversation from this distance would be awkward. She picks up her abandoned novel and opens it, adjusting her glasses, but she doesn’t absorb any of the words on the page. She glances at Ava out of the corner of her eye and sees her sitting with her legs tucked underneath her, completely and utterly rapt.
Even the small children who come barging through the shop with exasperated parents struggling to keep up behind them don’t get this excited about the whales.
It remains this way for about an hour — with Ava and Beatrice existing in separate universes in the same room. Every so often, Beatrice will hear a ‘oooh’ or a ‘hmm’ coming from her direction. There’s a game of tug of war in her chest, and Ava burns on the edges of her vision. She can’t call Camila back without making the conversation very public, and she’s not sure she knows how to contain everything that is Ava into a text message. Especially not without Camila asking her a million questions that she simply doesn’t have the answers to.
Even if she only sees this woman today, even if she disappears and Beatrice becomes an afterthought in her memories, a large part of her wants to keep this brief moment in time to herself.
(She thinks she’ll be able to let it go at the end of the day, but little does she know it’s already taken root in her stomach and begun to blossom. Ava has already moved in and changed her forwarding address.)
Beatrice realises that she simply needs something to do with her hands and her mind will follow suit. She stands up and crosses the room, which feels like an eternity as she does so. She passes into the cafe section of the shop, where everything is currently darkened or switched off. JC has the afternoon off, but usually he’s the one standing here, fiddling with things he shouldn’t and humming along mindlessly to whatever song is playing over the bluetooth speaker. Beatrice would never admit it to his face, but she enjoys the strange sort of distant company they share with one another on a daily basis. She has her corner and he has his. He’s one of the few people that she can exist in the same space with and not feel the need to fill the silence. Sometimes he’ll wander over to the bookstore to ‘annoy’ her, but he’s only ever irritating in the way a sibling would be.
The apparition that Beatrice is convinced is controlling her body decides to step behind the counter and go through the familiar motions of making coffee. It’s something she can do with her eyes closed, but allowing herself to focus on what she’s doing may give her an opportunity to be released from the shackles that are causing her organs to seize up.
So she waits for the machine. Makes coffee. Cleans up after herself. All undisturbed.
Ava is so engrossed in the small picture book she’s currently holding at a ninety degree angle that she doesn’t notice Beatrice's approach until she speaks.
Despite spending minutes making this coffee and having plenty of chances to change her mind, she feels silly as she presents the final product to her. Like she’s a dog and she’s offering a dead bird to her owner. Ava lifts her head to look at her, then her eyes land on the takeaway coffee cup held carefully between her hands.
“I felt something with a lid was best, as there are innocent books in your possession.”
“Wait, this is for me?” Ava gestures towards the coffee cup. There’s a look in her eyes that Beatrice can’t decipher immediately. For a second, she wonders if she’s somehow offended her terribly. Standing in front of someone holding a coffee cup has never been so anxiety-inducing.
“Yes. I wasn’t sure how you take it, so I just made a cappuccino. If you don’t want it, I can—”
“Beatrice,” Ava interrupts, fondness in her tone. She says her name like it’s a promise. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? ‘Cause holy shit, thank you.” She reaches out tentatively to take the cup from her, and Beatrice appreciates that she’s taking extra care around the books.
A small sound of amusement escapes her. Ava’s choice of words is most certainly an inside joke Beatrice has with herself. Oh, if the nuns could see her now. “It’s just my job, Ava.”
(It’s not. Generally, people ask for the coffee first.)
“I don’t know, I’m starting to feel like a VIP.” Ava takes a small sip and smiles. “Fuck. Wow, yeah. Every time I meet an Australian they always go on about the coffee here, and I always thought they were full of shit, but this… this is so good. These small towns really do it best.” She holds the cup against her chin, as if she wants to keep it close. “How much do I owe you?”
Beatrice hadn’t even thought about collecting payment. She’d just made coffee for the sake of making it. Because it seemed polite. Like this was her home and not an actual place of business that needs to turn a profit. Besides, she’d sprung the coffee on her. Making her pay just seems tactless. “Oh, no, I—”
Ava shakes her head. “No way. You’ve given me way too much charity already.” She uses one hand to dig around in the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a crumpled note and some coins. “This good?”
“Yes,” Beatrice exhales like she’s been holding her breath for an hour. She wonders if Ava realises that she personally drags the attention of everyone in the room towards her, like a fish to a lure. She holds the money awkwardly in her palm. “Yes, it’s good.”
“Keep the change.” Ava winks at her (again) before taking another sip. It draws a low hum of contentment out of her as Beatrice’s eyes wander to the ripple in her throat as she swallows. She realises that she’s probably been standing too close to her for far too long, and she takes a very obvious step backwards.
Ava watches her the entire time, ignoring the books in her lap that she’d been so desperate to get her hands on earlier. There’s an inquisitiveness to her, like she’s examining something she doesn’t quite understand. Beatrice gets it. “This isn’t your place, is it?”
Unsure of what to do with her hands now that she’s not carrying the coffee, Beatrice pockets the change and holds her wrist in front of her with her other hand. “No. My boss is currently travelling, though.”
“So you’re in charge.” Ava’s smile is so wide that it’s blinding. “All of this is very sneaky, I’m impressed.”
Beatrice feels her cheeks warm. She wouldn’t do it for just anyone who waltzed in here and broke their doorbell, and that realisation confuses her even further. Ava had charmed her on purpose to get the books, but then continued to passively charm her for the entire afternoon. Her gaze drifts down to the books scattered on her lap and the floor, in an attempt to change the subject. “Have you always wanted to go whale watching?”
At the question, she perks up again. “I mean, it wasn’t like a bucket list item, but I heard this town was the best place to see whales on the east coast and it just happens to be the right time of year… just seems like the stars aligned, you know?”
Beatrice finds herself nodding without thinking. “Yes. I know the feeling.” In more ways than one, at this point.
Signs from God were something Beatrice had given up on a long time ago. But she believes the universe itself sends signs too. And maybe God is the universe and the universe is God. The fact is it doesn’t really matter to her. In the end, she can’t help but find meaning in things both large and small. Perhaps that’s a gift her faith had given her, but the baton has been passed to something greater than that.
“Well, I can personally vouch for the tour guide. She’s very good at her job, but will also make the experience fun. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. At this time of year, you’re almost guaranteed to see whales.”
“Whoa, I already bought the ticket, you don’t need to give me the brochure talk,” Ava jokes, cradling her cup of coffee like it’s a precious item.
“I would recommend talking to the locals if you wish to learn more about the wildlife.”
A smirk crawls onto Ava’s face. Painfully slow, as if she’s purposely taking her time. “Oh, like you?”
Beatrice adjusts her stance. “I do consider myself a local, yes.”
Ava shuts the book in front of her without a second glance. There’s a glint in her eye, a challenge that Beatrice sees coming before she opens her mouth. “So you’re saying I went through all this with the books when I could’ve just asked you?”
“Well, you broke the doorbell and offered your body trying to get the books. I assumed it was life or death.”
Ava stares at her for a moment, clearly not expecting her to make a joke, before she giggles. It’s full and warm and it bubbles over, filling the space between them. That same warmth hits Beatrice square in the chest before melting like snow.
Ava tilts the coffee cup towards her. “Touché.” The moment stretches on as she considers Beatrice, before leaning forward in her chair, gaze locked. “So… are you going to teach me something?”
Beatrice averts her eyes immediately. It’s partially involuntary (again, the nuns are in the walls) and partially because the last hour has been a whirlwind. It typically takes time for her to process things, and Ava seems to operate at the speed of a bullet train. She glances over at the other chair sitting close by, almost beckoning her over.
“Well…” She clears her throat, once again trying to forget how Ava asked the question. Feeling her gaze trained on her, Beatrice moves over to the chair and pulls it across the carpet so that she can be seated opposite her, their knees almost touching. She’s close enough now that she can behold Ava’s entire appearance at length.
She can tell that she’s recently been near the water, because her hair is tousled with salt. She can see very light freckles on her sun kissed shoulders. She smells coconut, mixed with a floral scent she can’t identify. Her top is extremely low cut, and Beatrice tries to erase from her mind the fact that she can’t see a single tan line.
Her skin, her lips, her hands — everything about her appears soft and dreamlike. Like she’s stepped out of her imagination. Like she’s a manifestation of Beatrice’s own ideas on what angels should be. There’s just a constant warmth emanating from her being, from an unknown source deep within.
In an attempt to prevent complete humiliation, Beatrice tears her eyes away and points one finger at the hardcover with the humpback on it that Ava had initially picked off the shelf. “Suncliff is best known for humpback whale sightings,” she explains. “This is one of the few places in the world where they stop to feed while travelling, so the town gets quite busy this time of year. We also get other species of baleen whales, dolphins and seals. Sometimes we see penguins, but that’s fairly rare.”
“Penguins?”
Beatrice looks up at her to see she’s sitting upright, a student hanging on her teacher’s every word. “Yes, penguins.” A ghost of a smile crosses her lips, amused. “The Wildlife Service is trying to get a colony to settle nearby. Giving them their own protected land, away from the public and predators, gives them a chance to live and thrive.”
She suddenly feels overexposed. The realisation of just how much talking she’s doing hits her like a train. Ava keeps staring at her after she finishes speaking, and she doesn’t know what to do with the prolonged attention.
“What?” She asks, heat slowly crawling up her neck.
“It’s just—” Ava begins, her grin refusing to fade. “Your accent is obviously British, but sometimes you’ll do that upward inflection thing that Aussies do. It’s cute.”
(The way she says ‘Aussies’ is very un-Australian. Beatrice tries to focus on that and not the word ‘cute’.)
(She fails.)
“Oh.” Beatrice stops, the heat which had halted at her jaw now fully flushing her face. She never speaks to strangers for a prolonged period of time, and most of her friends obviously hear her speak often, so she hadn’t anticipated the possibility of her accent slowly changing in the time that she’s been here.
Ava’s smile grows when she notices the effect she’s having. Beatrice wants to sink into the floor. “And there are baby whales, right?”
“You should see calves, yes.” She reaches over and Ava lets her turn to a page with baby humpback whales and their mothers. “They migrate to warmer waters in order to have their young, then they return south in time for summer.”
Ava lets out a hum. “It’s kind of beautiful. That they travel thousands of miles every year but always return home? I don’t know. Sounds nice.”
Beatrice looks up from the book at her face, and she’s almost taken aback by her wistful expression. This is the first time she’s seen anything a little more contemplative from her. Like she’s been dropped in a deep pool of thought. She continues to watch, enthralled, until Ava’s gaze meets hers. Something blooms behind her eyes, embers in the coals.
“Where is home for you?” Beatrice asks, her voice coming out a lot softer than she intended. She’s a spinning top, unable to find a single point to focus on. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I was born in Portugal, but I’ve spent most of my life in Spain.” By the way she speaks, she doesn’t seem particularly attached to either location. “Got out as soon as I turned 18. I really wanted to travel, so here we are.” She gives the information so freely, without a hint of hesitation. Another concept that is so foreign to Beatrice, it’s like they’re breathing different air on different planets. “So, honestly? I have no idea.”
Again, Beatrice isn’t sure Ava will ever understand just how deeply she relates to the sentiment. “Spain is beautiful,” she adds, just to contribute something. At least, as beautiful as it can be when you’re an only child on a trip with your rigid, conservative parents.
“Yeah,” Ava agrees. “I mean, it wasn’t my choice to live there, but it’s probably pretty cool on your own terms. I don’t know. I’m not really ready to put down roots or anything.”
Beatrice nods. “How long have you been here?”
“A couple of weeks. We flew into Sydney and spent some time around there, but I really wanted to travel by car. There’s something so magical about driving along the coast. Having the windows down and feeling the sea breeze… Fuck, I never would’ve imagined anything like this place as a kid.”
Beatrice does take note of the ‘we’, but it’s quickly squashed by a feeling of fondness that takes her heart hostage. There are many kinds of tourists who fly through Suncliff year after year. There are the families with their kids, wanting a beach getaway in paradise. There are the fishermen, who shuffle by quietly, remaining unnoticed. They’ll get the occasional photographer or photojournalist, documenting the area for some travel magazine or blog. There are the classic couples who are enjoying their honeymoon, the overseas tourists with terrible sunburns, and the drunk, rowdy students who rent a house on the beach just to throw parties.
Then there’s the category of Ava. The kind of person that doesn’t just breeze through because there’s a beach and whales and it’s a getaway from life’s hardships. The kind of person who appreciates it wholeheartedly, and tries to immerse themselves in the community and the natural environment. Beatrice has certainly never spoken to any tourist for this long about the town before. And something tells her that Ava often falls into categories of her own in many aspects of her life.
“I can tell you love it,” Ava offers, and instead of bursting the bubble of Beatrice’s thoughts, she further expands it. “The way you talk about this place. It must be special.”
Having your deepest thoughts acknowledged when you haven’t said them out loud is often like being stabbed with a knife. Those who know her understand, because Beatrice was in shambles when she first showed up here. They’ve watched her change like the tide, and it’s jarring to have a stranger comment on it. It doesn’t feel intrusive in the way she’s expecting, but more like she’s being seen by someone who is looking for her in the dark.
“It is special.” Beatrice exhales, feeling slightly shaky. Having the attention directed at her makes her skin crawl with anxiety. She has no desire to reveal any aspect of her past, but it’s so intrinsic to her connection to this place, that it’s hard to hold back. “There’s something in the air here. Sometimes it feels… like it’s alive. I don’t know.” She knows it sounds foolish, and she regrets it as soon as it leaves her mouth.
Ava only smiles, watching her earnestly. “They should hire you for tourism.”
Beatrice’s brow softens. “Well. Only if it attracts the right kind of people.” The words slip out mindlessly, like ribbons spilling forth, and her breath catches ever-so-briefly as Ava’s eyes meet hers. Everything stills, as if even the gust of air rolling by has halted to bask in the moment. Beatrice knew before it began that the moment wouldn’t amount to anything. That it will simply pass by and linger endlessly in her mind, as moments tend to do. But Ava’s expression forms a fist around her heart and squeezes, and the sensation leaves an echo in her bones.
The familiar sound of her phone ringing snaps her out of her trance. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, before checking her watch. “Oh,” she says bluntly, blinking a couple of times to ensure she’s not seeing things. It’s fifteen minutes past closing time. She jumps up and hurries over to her phone, seeing Camila’s name flash on the screen.
“Camila?” Beatrice tries her best not to sound flustered, but unfortunately, she loses that battle, and her friend knows it. “No, I’m fine. I’m still at work. No, there’s— it’s a customer. Camila.” Her cheeks flush. She’s going to kill her. “I will meet you at Vincent’s, like we discussed.” She lowers her voice, hoping that Ava can’t hear. “There’s no story. The longer I speak to you, the longer you have to wait for me. Okay. Yes, goodbye.”
At some point during the phone call, Ava stands up and wanders closer to her. “Jealous partner?” She asks as Beatrice hangs up, wiggling her eyebrows. “Not to eavesdrop or anything, but… sounds juicy.”
The comment is so offhanded that Beatrice laughs, and it’s probably the heartiest laugh anyone’s gotten out of her for a week. “Oh, absolutely not. No, that was your tour guide for tomorrow.”
Ava’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Oh?”
“As I said, I can vouch for her. She’s very reputable.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Beatrice tilts her head just a fraction, and she opens her mouth to say something more before the once-familiar sound of a bell, now fairly warped, breaks the silence.
Ava winces at the sound. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”
Beatrice waves her hand, dismissing any more talk about remuneration for the broken doorbell.
Ava peeks around Beatrice to find the source of the sound, before excitement floods her features. “Oh, Michael!” To Beatrice’s surprise, she runs at the tall, blonde man who has just walked through the door. She bounces on the balls of her feet, speaking animatedly about whales and how they’re going to have such a good time tomorrow. Michael takes her by the shoulders and says something indistinguishable and Ava throws her head back and laughs.
Beatrice’s feet are suddenly encased in ice, frozen to the ground. To automatically assume that someone like Ava is single is a ridiculous notion to begin with. Flirty does not equal single, and she should do well to remember it. It dawns on her that it really doesn’t matter in the least if a tourist flirts with her. What would it amount to? She has a known track record of not knowing what to do with single, available women standing in front of her anyway. Of course the ‘we’ refers to Ava and her boyfriend.
Ava bounds back over to Beatrice, holding both of Michael’s hands in hers. Beatrice can’t feel ashamed of her own stupidity for too long, because she looks so excited that the hand around her heart clenches.
“Michael, this is Beatrice.”
“Good to meet you.” Michael holds his hand out to Beatrice and both options presented to her feel extremely odd, so out of some strange sense of obligation, she takes the hand and shakes it.
“Beatrice, this is my friend Michael.” Ava bumps her shoulder against his arm. “He’s my travel buddy slash designated driver slash loyal bodyguard.”
Friend? Travel buddy? Beatrice feels like throwing herself in molten lava. The nuns in the walls are laughing at her.
“Hi, Michael.” Beatrice finally feels capable of smiling at him. She tries not to let the mortification she feels show on her face. “I apologise for this, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
Michael shakes his head. “I had a feeling she would take a while. Something about ‘wanting to read all the books in the bookstore’ just sounded like an awful idea.”
“Whoa.” Ava holds her hands out in front of her. “I’m sorry, are we ganging up on me right now? ‘Cause I’m a little hurt.”
“How long are you staying for?” Beatrice studies Ava’s expression. “You could’ve spent the afternoon at the beach.” Or literally anywhere else in town. Instead she was here, with her. The gravity of it only just lands on Beatrice, now that an outside entity has popped the bubble they’d been existing in for the last couple of hours.
“Only for a few nights,” Michael responds. “The tour is really the only thing on our itinerary.”
“I’m glad I didn’t spend the afternoon at the beach,” Ava replies gently, and Beatrice suddenly forgets Michael is in the room. “Imagine how boring your afternoon would’ve been if someone hadn’t come in and broken your doorbell?”
Beatrice smiles, dropping her gaze. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Trust you to make a friend in just a few hours of being here.” Michael smiles at her fondly, and Beatrice can immediately tell that he’s also under the Ava spell.
Ava’s body language changes, as if Michael’s words spark an idea that lights up her entire face. “You should come with us tomorrow!”
“What?”
“Whale watching! You’ve probably done it a million times but c’mon, it’ll be so fun.” Ava clasps her hands in front of her. “I won’t beg. At least, not in front of Michael.”
Michael rolls his eyes, clearly very used to her shenanigans. “Ava—”
Beatrice, still decidedly not used to her shenanigans, suddenly feels hot in this room that’s been fairly pleasant all afternoon. “I’m…” Until she has a better method, she has decided the best way is simply to go around the parts she doesn’t know how to respond to. “I don’t actually go all that often.”
“You don’t have to come,” Ava responds quickly. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. No hard feelings if you say no.”
“Oh.” Beatrice wasn’t expecting to be given an out, but this is her chance to throw her walls back up. To rebuild her trusty defence mechanism. To do what’s supposed to be easy and let her go before she becomes attached. But for her, it’s not the easy option. The easy option is to follow behind Ava in the trail of sunlight she leaves in her wake. She technically doesn’t have to work tomorrow with JC willing to cover her, and the weather’s likely going to be beautiful.
Half as beautiful as the woman in front of her, and she might just learn what heaven is all about.
“No, it’s not that at all.” Beatrice’s voice is quiet, finding that in the presence of a third person, she has withdrawn back into her shell. “I would enjoy that.”
Ava tries to subdue the smile that creeps on to her face, but Beatrice is delighted when she fails. “Okay. Good.”
“However, I don’t have a ticket, and I can guarantee that the tour is sold out.”
Ava scoffs playfully. “You just spoke with the tour guide on the phone! You’re clearly friends, I think you can swing it.”
She has a point. There’s no universe in which Camila is going to say no to this, especially when she learns that Beatrice is coming as somebody’s guest. Somebody she only met the day before. That’s simply unheard of.
Ava’s still watching her, and Beatrice feels like she’s somehow able to slowly unpack every single thought in her mind with just a glance. She doesn’t feel like she can hide when that fatally gentle gaze is upon her. The restless, anxious feeling continues to flow steadily through her veins. She needs to decompress from whatever this afternoon is.
“Yes,” Beatrice concedes. It’s not the kind of favour she would usually ask Camila for, but there is most certainly a first time for everything. “You are correct.”
“We can come pick you up tomorrow morning. From your place or here, whatever you want. And if you change your mind by tomorrow, you can just tell us to fuck off,” Ava says, gleeful.
The edges of Beatrice’s lips turn upwards. “I don’t believe I’ll be saying that.”
“Then it’s settled!” Ava beams, and even if Beatrice genuinely didn’t want to go, she has no idea how she would refuse. That smile could power the entire town, she’s sure of it.
She inhales, before exhaling in one decisive breath. “You may pick me up from my house.”
Ava gives her a ‘you have a house?’ look, and Beatrice hands the address over to Michael, who dutifully notes it down in his phone.
Ava keeps her eyes on Beatrice the entire time, and she feels hot under her gaze. It’s only when Michael says a gentle ‘C’mon, we should probably let her close up’ that she actually comes back down to Earth, clearing the haze that has settled around them over the last several hours.
She grins. One last time, for Beatrice to replay in her mind. “Okay. Bye, Beatrice. We’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow,” she agrees, as they turn to leave the shop. “Goodbye, Ava.”
/
Ava and Michael have to walk a little to reach their rental car parked at the bottom of the hill.
Superion Books sits on the end of an entire street of businesses — from cute souvenir shops to newsagents to the Suncliff Visitor’s Centre. They’re a couple of streets back from the beach, but close enough to feel and smell the sea breeze. The air is so fresh, it gives life to every step she takes.
Ava thinks she’s addicted. To the feeling in her chest whenever she’s near the ocean, or any beautiful natural environment. The majesty of it all, and the countless secrets it hides. It’s endlessly fascinating, especially in a place like this, which is seemingly untouched by outside influences. Sure, it’s a tourist town and there’s an industry they’re trying to push, but it doesn’t overwhelm. This town, nestled away into the coastline, just minding its own business, is paradise.
It’s not like this back home, or anywhere Ava has travelled before. There’s so much space and freedom of movement here. Small towns can often feel overrun by the amount of tourists passing through each day, an entire town can feel like a business. She doubts that even on Suncliff’s most crowded summer days that it’s overwhelming in the least.
They’d arrived at midday, taking a quick journey from another town further north. Despite Michael having the funds for more, Ava insists that they stay at a smaller motel that’s close to the water. She wants to be able to open her window in the morning and be slammed with the smell of the ocean. Luxury doesn’t interest her in the least.
The entire definition of peace sits here, cradled by the landscape. The sea is so vibrant, the horizon so surreal and unobscured, Ava has been mesmerised since she arrived.
Her mind wanders back to the bookstore. To Beatrice. Beatrice, with gentle words and honey-brown eyes. Beatrice, with gorgeous tanned skin and freckles that are perfectly scattered. Beatrice, whose presence is as steady as the waves that lap against the shore. Beatrice, who briefly stopped Ava in her tracks the moment she laid eyes on her. Even with a broken doorbell and Ava’s hurried words between them.
Ava made a fool out of herself in multiple ways only to receive kindness in return. She was spoken to with patience, but not condescension, even when she felt she sounded ridiculous. Her lack of real life experience makes her feel childish at times — she can often come across seeming younger than she is. However, Beatrice had just looked at her exactly as she was. Any joke she made was well-timed and never at her expense.
She knows being treated like an adult is the absolute bare minimum, but every time she is, it’s like she’s a tangled up piece of jewellery that’s patiently being unravelled.
That’s the main reason why she invites Beatrice, and Ava is known to be a spontaneous creature. This trip across the other side of the world with a fairly blank itinerary can certainly attest to it. It’s the freedom she craves, and this is the only way she knows. And there’s nothing wrong with making connections with people you meet along the road. Even if this is not the typical ‘connection’ she generally goes for.
She pulls her hat out of the back of her shorts and it’s creased, but she manages to place it back on her head to offer some sort of protection from the sun.
“Hey, Michael—” She turns to look at him. One thing she appreciates about him is that he slows down to her pace when they walk side by side, despite having much longer legs than her. “Is it okay that I invited Beatrice without checking with you? You paid for the tickets and I wasn’t even thinking—”
“Hey.” He waves a hand in response. “The more the merrier. Besides, me paying for things is never something I’m going to use against you, Ava. We’re friends.”
She nods, biting the inside of her cheek. The spontaneity that she’s so famous for can sometimes get her into trouble. Sometimes it can be classed as recklessness, and she finds herself walking the tightrope between the two regularly. She often needs someone else to tell her which is which.
“Besides, there was no way she was going to say no to you,” he adds.
“Why?” Her face wrinkles in confusion. “I told her she could say no.”
He laughs. “Getting the chance to spend the day with you? Ava, I don’t think you realise the effect you have on people. I’m sorry, but nobody is going to say no to that.”
And he’s right, Ava doesn’t realise it at all. Being genuine, showing up with a smile, and yes, sometimes charming her way into odd situations, is apparently unusual. At least, that’s what Michael has told her every time they’ve visited a place and she gets free drinks or free tickets or the phone numbers of an entire group she met ten minutes ago. She’s never experienced that kind of attention before, and she’s certainly never had someone around to tell her what it all means.
“What did you two talk about anyway? You were in there for hours.”
She falters a little in her response, because she and Beatrice weren’t discussing anything particularly groundbreaking. There were the whales, the trip, the coffee. But somehow the time had flown by — even Beatrice had been surprised when she checked her watch. They didn’t learn a whole lot about each other. At least, not with details that were revealed verbally. Still, Ava didn’t learn nothing.
She learned that Beatrice adores this place, to the point of a physical reaction when asked about it. She learned that she spends a lot of time in the water, judging by the natural blonde highlights she spotted in her hair, neatly tied back. She learned that she needs to stay on her toes around her, because if she blinks, she might miss her crack a joke. She learned that she makes Beatrice nervous, but she has a feeling that doesn’t come with a simple explanation behind it.
She learned that she wants more. In whatever way she can have it. Even if it’s just a companion for a few days until she moves on. There are layers she wants to peel back, even if she has a feeling it’ll be hard work. And if there’s one thing Ava Silva loves, it’s a challenge.
She realises that she still hasn’t responded to Michael, and she looks up at him, his tall frame illuminated by the sun behind. The hat gives her just enough cover to make out his features. “I don’t know. Is that weird? We talked about the trip. She told me a little about the town.”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say it’s weird. Some people you just connect with. You can easily pass the time with people like that.”
It’s such an offhand comment, but it burrows its way deep into her chest. That true point of connection with other human beings is one of the few things she strives for in this life. Something to make up for the lack of kinship she had growing up. Hell, the lack of kinship she has now besides the man walking alongside her. Whatever it takes to fill the cavernous hole that resides within her, still unidentified. Maybe Beatrice could be another person in her life, in whatever capacity she wants to be.
It’s presumptuous of her, but Beatrice seems receptive to the idea of being friendly, at the very least. Ava’s not picky.
When they finally reach the car, she turns back to the bookstore just in time to see Beatrice exiting the building. She’s on her phone again, and she fiddles with the keys for a moment before locking the front door. She makes her way to a fairly weathered dark blue car that sits out front and gets in. It has an empty roof rack on it, fit for a surfboard or paddleboard.
Ava stops to focus entirely on watching her go, her eyes fixed on the tail lights until they have long vanished from view.
/
Twenty minutes later, Beatrice sits opposite Camila at an outdoor table at Vincent’s, watching the waves idly roll along the shore.
There are many culinary establishments along the boardwalk on the main beach in Suncliff, but after moving here, Beatrice quickly learned that her new friends had claimed the restaurant and bar known as Vincent’s long ago. Predictably run by a man named Vincent, it seemingly has the perfect atmosphere of any occasion. Many birthday parties, weddings, first dates and formal dinners have occurred at Vincent’s.
Many mindless drunken nights have occurred at Vincent’s, too. Truly an establishment for all occasions. It doesn’t hurt that Vincent is a fantastic chef either.
It had been Beatrice’s boss, Suzanne, who first introduced them. The only one in their friend group who was actually born around here is JC, and it always brought her comfort to know that everyone else was the new person in town at one point. Of course, she’s been the newest arrival for two years, but Vincent has welcomed each of them one by one, and it’d become an unofficial gathering place for them.
The outdoor portion of the restaurant looks directly over the main beach. It’s nothing spectacular, but it’s still one of her favourite views in town for its simplicity.
She picks up the wine glass sitting in front of her, watching the liquid swirl around like a slow-moving whirlpool. She decides to just come right out and say it with no preamble: “So, there’s somebody you’re going to meet tomorrow.”
“Is this my daily horoscope?” Camila asks, closing her eyes for reasons that are beyond Beatrice. “Let me guess… I’m going to meet somebody who will change my life.”
Beatrice almost laughs, because she is talking about Ava, and really, that’s a fair assessment. “I met someone today who’s going on your tour. Well, her and her friend,” she explains, taking a long sip of her wine before continuing. “And… they asked me to come with them.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Camila shakes her head rapidly, and Beatrice knows what’s coming before she says it. “When I invite you to come out on the boat, you say ‘no I have work’, but when some stranger asks you, you accept right away? Is she cute? She’s gotta be cute.”
“I do have work, Camila,” she replies, completely ignoring the last part. “But JC offered to cover me tomorrow because he was gone this afternoon.”
“Oh, she must be really cute.”
“Camila—”
A glass full of beer suddenly hits the wooden table, golden liquid spilling over the sides carelessly as Mary climbs into the chair beside Camila. “What are we talking about?”
“Bea met someone,” Camila gives Mary a pointed look, and Mary turns towards Beatrice, who has begun dabbing at her mess with napkins.
“No shit?”
“It’s not like that, Mary.”
Camila sighs dramatically. “I know, I know, she’ll be gone in a few days. It’s the same old story, just let me dream! Sometimes it’s fun to romanticise meeting a hot tourist, that’s what all those stories are for!”
Beatrice and Mary look at each other, knowing that neither of them have any knowledge of what she means by ‘those stories’. The two of them have been single for a long time — they are certainly not Camila’s target audience in this scenario.
“And everyone here is so single, how are Lilith and I meant to double date in these conditions?”
Mary snorts. “Lilith does not want to double date. If it were up to her, she’d have you all to herself all the time.”
Beatrice sighs, attempting to take control of the wayward conversation. “Anyway, that’s why I was late, so I am sorry. You’ll get to meet her tomorrow, so consider that recompense.”
“Wait… was this the customer that came in when we were talking?” Camila asks, and she nods. “And then you were late closing up… Oh my God, she was there for hours. Bea!” She leans over and smacks her lightly on the arm.
Beatrice opens her mouth, bewildered. “What—?”
“She was there for hours,” Camila repeats, drawing the final syllables out, before turning to Mary. “Who spends hours in a tiny touristy bookstore unless you think an employee is hot? It’s not a library and the cafe was closed! Be serious.”
Mary only shrugs, taking a long swig of her beer. She clearly doesn’t want to be the focus of Camila’s matchmaking attempts either.
“Could we not talk about this anymore?” Beatrice asks, feeling uneasy at the turn in conversation. She doesn’t know how to bring up the fact that even if she had the opportunity to date someone, if she well and truly liked them enough, if they weren’t just a tourist passing through, it would require patience that she can’t ask of anyone. Salt water can’t heal all wounds, as much as Beatrice wishes it were so. There are some beasts that are her own to tackle.
“If you want,” Camila resigns with a huff. “Besides, you said it yourself, I’m going to meet her tomorrow.” The glint in her eye is very reminiscent of another person Beatrice has dealt with today. “Give me five minutes with her, and I’ll have all the answers you want.”
She already knows Ava and Camila are going to get along like a house on fire. There are a lot of similarities, and she absentmindedly wonders how it is that she attracts such similar people. The only answer she wants is if she’s going to make it out unscathed. Turning to God for guidance on this matter seems unwise, and all she can think to do is remind herself of the simple truth: Ava will be gone in three days and none of the rest of it matters.
Three days.
She can survive three days.
/
When Michael picks Beatrice up for the first time the next day, they pull up outside of her house a little after eight in the morning.
When she walks out the front door, backpack slung over one shoulder, she can see Ava hanging out of the passenger seat window. “Hey!” She calls out, her smile just as breathtaking as Beatrice remembers it. She feels a surge of energy pass through her, as if powered by her warmth. “We weren’t sure if you were hungry but we brought you breakfast anyway. I assume you like eggs. Oh fuck, you’re not allergic are you?”
“No, not allergic,” Beatrice responds with a tease of a smile.
She had stayed out later than she originally intended with Camila and Mary the night before — and then just Mary after Camila had gone home to Lilith. As the evening wore on, she felt she really didn’t want to be at home alone with her thoughts. And it worked out well, because Mary is the last of her friends to push a topic that she doesn’t want to talk about. So they sit and drink and have dinner, and they chat away about the upcoming summer season.
Mary jumps between lifeguarding, doing snorkelling tours and teaching people how to dive during the warmer months. She’d even been the one to teach Beatrice how to dive when she first moved to Suncliff. It wasn’t something she ever thought she’d be interested in, but there’s a certain kind of serenity to being underwater. Not in a morbid sort of way, but a peaceful one. Plus, there’s an abundance of wildlife and natural beauty that just can’t be observed from a boat.
Mary is often described as being gruff on the outside, but Beatrice knows her better than that. In truth, she’s one of the kindest people she’s ever met, with a fierce loyalty for those around her. If there’s anyone that she thinks would take a bullet for their friends, it’s Mary. And she enjoys her company, and Mary is content when she doesn’t feel like talking.
Continuing with her plan to not sit alone and overthink, Beatrice had woken up early this morning to go for her usual pre-work surf. She enjoys the ritual of strapping her board to the top of her car and driving down to one of the smaller beaches, usually tourist-free. She enjoys sitting out on the open water, staring out at the horizon and letting the gentle lull of the waves calm her mind. Even if the conditions are too calm for anything particularly thrilling, it’s going through the motions that provides her with comfort.
However, all of this carefully-planned distraction doesn’t prepare her for being face to face with Ava again. It’s a little like being smacked in the face.
Beatrice sees that she’s opted for a cap today, and that they had similar ideas on what to wear. Ava’s got a light blue linen button down over another sleeveless top. It’s definitely oversized, the sleeves rolled up so they don’t cover her hands. There’s a pair of sunglasses hanging from her fingers and a takeaway cup in the other. Beatrice’s attire is similar, only that her shirt is white and actually fits her suitably.
Upon closer inspection, she realises the cap Ava’s wearing is, without a doubt, of ‘women want me, fish fear me’ fame, and her lips turn upwards as she spots it. Her immediate thought is that Camila’s really going to like her.
“You didn’t have to bring me breakfast, Ava,” she says as she approaches the car.
“Why?” Ava frowns. “Did you already eat?”
“Well, no—”
“You have to eat! No whales on an empty stomach,” Ava points at her in an attempt to be commanding, but she dissolves in an instant. “Oh, we also got you tea.”
Beatrice reaches for the door to the backseat before freezing at the handle. “How did you know I drink tea?”
Ava’s smile only grows. “Well, obviously ‘cause I just know you so well. Y’know, after our one conversation.” Her grin is cheesy, and Beatrice wonders about her ability to fill even the most ordinary conversations with joy. “We went to the bakery on the main street and I mentioned you and since everyone knows you, I think the lady who owns the place came out. She was all like ‘Beatrice doesn’t drink coffee, bring her this!’ and so, here we are.”
“Nora,” Beatrice supplies, her expression softening at the fondness of it all. She doesn’t order from the bakery’s cafe all that often, but they know what she drinks regardless. Even after two years of living here, that’s something she’ll never get used to. “The woman who owns the bakery, her name is Nora.”
“Nora,” Ava repeats with a nod, like she’s filing it away for later use. “Their coffee is really good too. Not as good as yours though,” she adds, throwing another wink her way.
Beatrice realises she’s still not in the car, hand stuck on the door handle like a fool. She finally climbs into the backseat, only managing to greet Michael with a couple of words before Ava turns around in her seat to look at her. She’s suddenly glad Michael is here, because she’s not sure how she’d handle this situation otherwise. Ava is a lot, and not in a negative way, but in the way a very repressed Beatrice sometimes struggles not to let all of her poorly-contained emotions burst forth.
Ava hands over the tea and a brown paper bag that contains what smells like a bacon and egg roll. Their fingers brush briefly as she takes it. “Thank you, Ava.”
When Beatrice had been standing outside, her smile was loud and bright. Now, in closer proximity, it’s gentler, but no less impactful. “You’re welcome.” The moment is swept away when her smile becomes a grin again. “Let’s get this par- tea started.” She taps their takeaway cups together for emphasis, and Michael rolls his eyes in the driver’s seat.
Beatrice knows what the tea tastes like before she sips it. But it tastes even better knowing that someone cared enough to not only find out what she likes, but also bring it to her. Someone who has known her for less than twenty-four hours.
As Michael starts the car and begins to drive, Ava sticks her thumb back in the direction they came from. “Also, that’s your house? It’s so cool.”
“It’s not mine,” Beatrice clarifies. “I’m only renting it.”
It’s a small, one-bedroom house that was definitely built and designed to be some sort of holiday home for short stays, but it suits Beatrice just fine as a permanent residence. It has enough room for the very few belongings she arrived in town with, and whatever else she’s picked up since. It even has a small backyard with a modest patch of grass out the back. She’s able to walk to the main beach if she wants, and the other beaches are only a short drive away. Plus, her rent is far cheaper than she would get anywhere else.
“Still cool,” Ava muses with a smile, turning her attention to the road in front of them. Michael rounds the corner, and the ocean becomes visible in front of them, bright and dazzling. The sunlight makes the surface sparkle, and despite being vastly different colours, it reminds Beatrice of Ava’s eyes when she’s excited. To be as expressive as the ocean is a gift. Her eyes drift to Ava’s profile, and she watches her expression change as she takes it all in. Her shoulders raise slightly as if she’s taking a breath. It reminds her of herself the first time she came here. Like she’d stepped into another world entirely and couldn’t think of a single reason to leave it.
Once they arrive, Beatrice directs Michael to a side street, a local trade secret for easier parking. When they step out of the car, a sudden gust of wind whips Ava’s shirt around her. The weather is shaping up to be warmer than yesterday, but not too unpleasant. Beatrice knows the breeze will certainly help matters when they’re out on the water. With her hair tied neatly in another low bun, she’s able to pull her sun hat out of her bag and put it on without issue.
She notices Ava watching her out of the corner of her eye. It only lasts for a fleeting moment before she turns her attention back towards the water again.
As they approach the wharf, Beatrice spies the white boat with the familiar Cat’s Cradle Tours printed on the side. She takes a deep, steadying breath. She’s never needed to introduce anyone in Suncliff. There’s never been a person that she’s met before the others. She’s never had Camila watching her with inquiring eyes, watching every exchange between her and someone else like a hawk. It’s her own fault for building up any sort of anticipation, making it seem like a bigger deal than it is, but the idea of showing up with Ava without warning seemed worse.
Ava’s shirt has fallen slightly off her shoulder during the walk, and Beatrice’s gaze gets caught on her exposed clavicle. At this proximity, she can smell the sunscreen on her skin, and maybe a hint of body lotion. She looks impossibly soft, not a single sharp edge. Beatrice is content to just appreciate her. Bask in her for just a little while.
It scares her that her first instinct is to reach out and adjust her shirt.
Luckily, her brain still has a good relationship with her hands.
Instead, she focuses on the way the wood beneath her feet moves and creaks with each step. She focuses on the waves of heat that curl in the air, back in the direction they came from. She focuses on the fact that Michael is right there and yes, she’ll need a third person to help maintain some semblance of equilibrium.
She spots Camila before Camila spots her. She’s standing near the boat, chatting excitedly to a family of four who are presumably also going on the tour. She kneels down to the two kids and her face brightens as she talks to them, gesturing wildly with her hands. Beatrice takes the lead, strolling along the worn wooden planks to where Camila is pointing towards the boat.
“Bea!” She calls out with a grin, taking her sunglasses off to get a better look at her. “You know, I was hoping the rumours were true.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes. “What rumours? I told you myself that I was coming.”
Camila looks past her at Ava and Michael, and Beatrice casually steps out of the way. She watches Camila’s eyes immediately zero in on Ava, and she really wishes this didn’t feel as awkward as it does. She begins to spiral on why it feels awkward to begin with.
“Camila, this is Ava and Michael.” Beatrice gives her friend a pointed look, silently begging her not to go too off the rails. “Ava, Michael, this is my friend, Camila.”
Camila looks at her with a raised eyebrow — she notes a hint of approval that she doesn’t like — before turning to positively beam at Ava. “It’s so nice to meet you! You know, I’ve heard a lot about you considering Bea has only known you for, what, eighteen hours?”
Beatrice opens her mouth. Well, that didn’t take long. “That’s not—”
Camila places a hand on her shoulder. It’s more tender than she’d been expecting. “I’m just teasing, Bea.” It’s a ‘if you want me to stop, I’ll stop’, and yes, Beatrice loves her friend to pieces, even when she’s being insufferable.
“Hi, Camila!” Ava’s enthusiasm is once again bright and infectious as she leans towards Michael, a playful smirk on her face. “See? Told you I made an impression.” It’s as if the three of them had written a script and rehearsed it when Beatrice wasn’t looking. Any control she thought she might have over the situation slipped away before she even realised what was happening. She’d lost the battle before it began.
“You must’ve, if you got Beatrice to come out on a weekday.” Camila makes motion with her hands to indicate that she’s mind-blown. “That takes some skill.”
Beatrice frowns at the insinuation, but it doesn’t last as Ava bumps her gently with her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, only looks up at her with a very tiny smile. The gesture settles any negative thoughts she’s having, before she realises that Camila is overtly watching their every move. Knowing her, she’s already got the group chat open and is documenting every single syllable exchanged. She can picture Yasmine’s many exclamation points and Lilith dropping in with the eyes emoji, her way of caring while pretending not to.
Ready to spend her day being sufficiently humiliated, Beatrice steps towards the boat. “We wouldn’t want to make you late for your own tour, Camila.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Camila waves her hand in the direction of the boat. “Just try to get rid of me.”
As they head further down the wharf, it takes approximately twenty seconds for Beatrice’s phone to buzz in her pocket.
[Camila] Oh, yeah. She’s really cute.
Beatrice bites the inside of her cheek to prevent any other kind of reaction. If someone told her two days ago that this is the nightmare she’d be dealing with, she certainly wouldn’t believe them. But, she can definitely turn her attention to the least nightmarish part: Ava, Miss ‘I Need Every Book You Have on Whales’, is about to actually see real, living, breathing whales. The thought causes her heart to jump a little, tugging in Ava’s general direction. Once again, she decides to ignore why she’s feeling this way about a near-stranger that’s eventually going to leave.
The boat has an upper and lower level, and both indoor and outdoor portions. Both the driver and Camila stay on the upper deck, which means Beatrice won’t be harassed by her in person, but there’s still a good chance there’ll be some texts flung her way. There’s a couple dozen people on board, which confirms her earlier suspicions about the tour being sold out. Camila had been more than happy — giddy, in fact — to add her to the list. (Beatrice double checked to make sure they weren’t contributing to some sort of boat capacity violation first.)
Beatrice and Michael let Ava take the lead, and she breezes through to the front of the boat, landing by one of the railings. Beatrice occupies the space beside her, resting her arm on the railing and gazing out at the sea, laid out like a red carpet before them. The boat bobs slightly as the waves pass underneath it, and she turns her attention towards Ava, who she finds is mirroring her movements.
A treacherous feeling overtakes her as she watches Ava look out at the ocean, her emotions roiling like the waves. She enjoys it. The face Ava makes when she makes a discovery, or the face she makes when she’s simply taking it all in.
Camila’s voice comes on over the loudspeaker, breaking Beatrice out of her haze. “Hello, hello! Testing, testing… can everybody hear me?” There’s a chorus of yes’s from around the deck. “Alrighty! Welcome to Cat’s Cradle Tours, my name is Camila and while I do have a boating licence, I am not your pilot today—”
Michael leans over to Ava. “I feel like you’d be really good at this job.”
“Fuck yeah, I’d be a star. Imagine the pun potential. You’re going to have a whale of a time—”
“Oh, no.”
“You know what the saddest whale in the sea is? The blue whale!”
“You know what? I take it back.”
“Wow. Rough.”
Beatrice stifles her laugh.
“Basically my job here is to provide you with information, point things out to you, answer your questions,” Camila continues. “I am also your designated seasickness expert. If you’re feeling queasy, come find me and we will do everything we can to help. There’s always one, or three, so don’t feel embarrassed! We also have snacks and drinks on board, so please help yourself.”
“I’ll get us all some water,” Michael offers, before passing the two of them and heading towards the lower cabin.
Ava’s still looking out at the ocean, and Beatrice reaches up to tap the brim of her hat once. It takes a moment before she makes contact — the inner turmoil she’s feeling causes her to pause a couple of times before she gets there. “Good choice today.” It’s easily the least poignant thing she’s ever said, and in the most foolish way possible.
Whatever moment Ava is having as she stares out at the water is broken, and she turns to her with a proud smile. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Oh, I can only imagine.” She’d started off strong with the MILF hat, so the possibilities are truly endless. “Surely the sentiment is bad luck, though.”
It’s a teasing remark, and Ava knows it, but she’s not Ava if she’s not keeping her on her toes. “Women wanting me is bad luck? Sounds like a dream, actually.”
Beatrice’s brain suddenly empties. “I… was talking about the fish.”
Either Ava’s leaning in closer or Beatrice’s perception has been whittled down to only her. “Good thing whales aren’t fish. I learned that in one of your books.”
“Well—” Beatrice suddenly feels hot under her shirt. “—Glad to be of service.”
The deck beneath them begins to rumble as the boat’s engine starts up, and Beatrice takes the opportunity to break eye contact. She notices Ava’s hand, fingers curled around the railing. It hasn’t left since they boarded, and she continues to keep an eye on it while listening to Camila establish some ground rules in the background.
Camila continues to speak as the boat slowly picks up speed. “So this part of the coast has a few names. Some call it the Sapphire Coast, for obvious reasons. It’s also known as the Humpback Highway — that one always gets a few giggles. But it’s well named! This is one of the best places to see humpback whales as they migrate, because they stop for days at a time to feed and play while they journey back home to the Southern Ocean. Now, this time of year is particularly special, because—”
“Has anyone ever fallen off?” Ava asks suddenly, leaning her head over the railing slightly to watch the water rush by beneath them.
Beatrice cranes her neck over the edge too, in solidarity. “It’s very rare. If it were a real concern, they would legally make you wear lifejackets on board.”
Ava only nods, and it’s then Beatrice notices that her knuckles have turned white from holding on to the railing so hard.
“Ava?” She asks, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” It sounds like something is stuck in her chest as she speaks. “It’s just… I can’t swim.”
Beatrice’s eyebrows shoot up, and her concern only grows. The amount of tourists who travel here not knowing how to swim is staggering, even more so when they decide to go in the water anyway. It’s her firm belief that if you’re able to learn, then you should learn, especially if a person is spending so much of their time by the coast. She’s not sure that ending up on an episode of Bondi Rescue is part of Ava’s itinerary.
“I know, I know,” Ava exhales. “It’s stupid. If I fall in, I’ll drown.”
“Well, no,” Beatrice says immediately, on autopilot. “You’re not going to drown as long as I’m here.” She would hazard a guess and say she’s the strongest swimmer on this boat, judging by the amount of children and middle-aged tourists that are surrounding them. “Besides, they do have life-saving measures on board. You’re very safe. I believe Camila jumped in after a child once.”
Ava shifts her feet restlessly. “I saw your reaction. I’m stupid for not learning before I got here.”
“I— Ava, you’re not stupid.” Beatrice feels the immediate need to defend her from herself. Yet another thing she’s learning about herself this week. “I apologise, I was just surprised.” The words rush out — not her most eloquent apology. “When I met you, I just assumed that you loved the water.” She pauses, searching Ava’s face. “Does Michael know how to swim?”
She just nods.
“And he never offered to teach you?”
“He has, I just…” She looks back down towards the water again, embarrassed, and Beatrice finally understands.
She’s afraid.
This time, she’s careful enough to not let any surprise flash across her face. Of course, she has only known Ava for less than twenty-four hours, but she’d come across as completely and utterly fearless in that amount of time. Or, at least, so carefree that showing any fear seemed highly unlikely. And to know she’s been in this country for two weeks and hasn’t been swimming breaks her heart. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, of course, but it’s such a magnificent part of being here. At least, in Beatrice’s opinion.
She reaches over tentatively, again. Pausing for a moment, again. Finally, she wins the war and her hand covers Ava’s on the railing. She tells herself it’s an attempt to get her to relax hers, but as Camila’s giving a history lesson on the country’s anti-whaling policy in the background, her voice fades out of Beatrice’s periphery. She doesn’t have the ability to teach her how to swim in the next several hours, but she can at least make her feel safe and understood. Because she does understand. Fear has been a constant companion of hers for a long, long time. “You won’t fall in,” she assures her again. “Unless you wish to go swimming with the whales, which I don’t recommend to anybody.”
That causes a smile — a beautiful, radiant smile — to break out on Ava’s face. “Well shit, if that was an option, I probably would’ve learned.”
/
It doesn’t take long at all for them to come across a pod of humpbacks.
It’s essentially a guarantee on this tour, to the point where a partial refund is given if you don’t see anything. In Suncliff, they’re lucky that 1) the migratory patterns of whales are fairly predictable, so they will pass through the same places every year, and 2) this happens to be a favourite spot of the humpbacks in particular. Beatrice isn’t sure why — Suncliff is no more remarkable than the other towns dotted along the coast. But if she thinks there’s something special about this place, maybe the whales do, too. Perhaps they know something that humans simply don’t.
Camila lets them know that they’re approaching the pod, and to keep an eye out. Ava’s demeanour has changed completely from earlier — when she leans over the railing now, it’s fueled by excitement, and Beatrice has the urge to pull her back from the edge several times just in case she actually does become one of the rare occurrences.
They see a fin first — one of the adult humpbacks waving at them in greeting before disappearing below the waves again. They’re still quite a ways away, but the disturbances on the surface — the ‘footprints’ — indicate that there are multiple in the vicinity. Ava steps up on the lowest rung on the railing, like that’s somehow going to get her closer, but all it does is make Beatrice nervous. Michael stands close by her, clearly having the same thoughts as her.
Beatrice has seen whales out on the water many times now, whether by boat or from the shore, but it’s always just as breathtaking as the first. And she remembers her first well: Suzanne buying a newly-arrived, flat-broke Beatrice a ticket to this exact tour, with Camila as her guide. It just so happened to be the first time they met, and since she was alone, Camila adopted her like the extrovert she is. In time, she introduced Beatrice to all of her current friends — Yasmine, Mary, Lilith — and the rest is history. Arriving in Suncliff had catapulted her from one experience to the next, in a chain reaction that felt so natural it was like breathing.
Add whales into the mix, and it’s a little more than spectacular.
As they inch closer, multiple bodies emerge from the water, one after the other, as they swim along. They reveal their backs first, spouting water from their blowholes. They glide through the sea, in the effortless way that Beatrice envies. She’s as free as she can be as a person, having taken her pre-ordained life into her own hands and broken it with her bare hands. But there’s something about that unattainable, animalistic freedom of a sea creature with the entire ocean as their playground. They have rituals and responsibilities, yes, but the complexities of the human experience are lost on them.
The first real breach happens soon after. One of the whales leaps, seemingly out of nowhere, and the entire boat gasps in surprise. Nearly its entire body leaves the water as it twists, before crashing back down. Humpbacks are known for putting on a show, and there’s something about being able to see a group of people witness it for the very first time. This must be how Camila feels whenever she recounts it, as she does often and excitedly when they have Friday drinks at Vincent’s.
Meanwhile, Ava is delighted, her eyes wide with awe, and Beatrice will look back on this day and realise that this was the moment she knew she was in trouble.
It gets even better when the calves make themselves known. They begin to frolic in the water alongside their mothers, and Ava lets out an “OhmygodBeatrice” that’s definitely not supposed to be one word, but turns out that way regardless. The adults continue to show off, flying out of the water as they breach, in sensational displays of agility. Beatrice still wonders about the kind of strength it takes for a whale to lift its entire body out of the water like that. It’s almost like a circus act, and those on board the boat are just as enthralled as if it was.
At one point, one of the whales gets so close to the boat that it splashes the front deck as it breaches, and Beatrice thinks the smile Ava’s wearing in that precise moment is her favourite one yet. She wishes she had her phone out to document the moment, but she resigns to committing it to her memory instead.
A couple of hours and several whales later, when the boat returns to the wharf, Ava all but bounces back on to dry land. Her steps are airy, like she’s carried by nothing but the wind. Michael offers to go grab the car and promptly goes, leaving Beatrice standing there with an active livewire of a person who is unable to stand still. It threatens to draw her in all over again. She’s constantly being reeled in on a line but never released. She only gets closer, and closer, and closer.
“That was…” Ava inhales deeply and then lets it out, like she doesn’t know what to add. Like she’s trying to contain herself. Beatrice desperately wishes she wouldn’t.
“Tell me,” she finds herself saying without a thought. Ava’s excitement, the way she looks at the world with fresh eyes, is addictive. She wants to know everything.
Ava’s eyes light up at being given permission, like the first time they met all over again. She spins around in a circle dramatically. “Amazing. So fucking cool. There were babies!”
“There were babies,” Beatrice repeats, smiling easily. Casually. Which is such a foreign word and concept, but it’s so natural around Ava and her innate presence. Feeding off of her energy is effortless, like a brushstroke. Except the only thing that ends up on the canvas is a smattering of Beatrice’s emotions, all black, white and blue.
“And they were playing!”
“They do like to show off for a crowd.”
“It was so… I don’t even know how to describe it. They really live out there,” she gestures towards the water. “They just live out there under the water with so many other creatures and they’re so big and they make such loud, cool sounds and we never get to see them! Except you live here, so you can see them every year. There’s just so much we don’t know, right? Earth is, like, ninety percent water?”
“Seventy,” Beatrice supplies.
“Yeah!” Ava bounces on her feet again, and it’s easily becoming one of Beatrice’s favourite ‘Ava is excited’ tells. As if when she’s truly eager, her body follows suit. “We’ve spent so long exploring land but the ocean is so… unknown.”
“You know, they think they’re still discovering new species of whales, even in recent years.”
As she’d hoped, Ava’s eyes begin to sparkle. “That’s fucking awesome.”
And when Beatrice looks back on this day, she’ll realise this is the moment she started to miss Ava before she was even gone.
Then, an idea pops into her head, and she’s unsure whether it’s a good one. It’s not the kind of idea she would bounce off of just anyone. For example, asking Camila for advice would only bring up more questions. But again, Ava is going to be gone in a couple of days, so anything that Beatrice thinks is scary now will soon be a distant memory.
“I’m not sure if you have dinner plans,” she begins, “but I can’t let you leave town without recommending my favourite restaurant. I’d love to take you and Michael, it would be my treat.”
Ava blinks a couple of times. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting Beatrice to initiate any plans for them, especially considering she had unexpectedly sprung today’s trip on her. If she’s being honest, she didn’t expect it either. “Really? You don’t have to pay for us, Beatrice.”
“I know, but I’d like to.”
“Okay,” Ava replies softly. “That sounds nice. I’m sure Michael will say yes. I’d like to give him a break from paying for everything.”
Beatrice feels there’s a story there, but she doesn’t want to pry. “How about I make a reservation for seven? I’ll tell you where it is and meet you there.”
“We’ll pick you up,” Ava offers quickly. “If you’re paying then I’m not gonna make you drive too. Then you can have a drink or two. Y’know, assuming you drink.”
Would she say she knows Ava particularly well at this point? Not really. But one thing Beatrice does know is that arguing is completely futile. Even if her argument was weak, she is simply powerless while in her orbit. “If you insist, Ava.”
“I do. I insist.”
Beatrice nods, managing to keep her smile under control. “Then… I will see you tonight.”
Ava has a much harder time controlling her smile, which is decidedly goofy. Instead, her lips purse adorably. “See you tonight.”
/
When Michael picks Beatrice up for the second time that day, it’s dusk, and the first and only thing she notices is that Ava is wearing a white sundress. The stark contrast of the flowing fabric against her glowing, sunkissed skin causes Beatrice’s lips to part for the briefest of moments before she snaps them shut again.
She sees a lot of women in sundresses every day. She lives among tourists and beachgoers. It’s basically part of the town uniform.
But then there’s Ava, with her golden, windswept hair and her eyes that contain something celestial, and when she’s wearing a sundress, Beatrice will absolutely pay attention.
This time, when she exits her house, Ava is waiting outside the car, leaning against the door. It feels strangely intimate, like being picked up for a date. Beatrice gets a full view of her from head to toe, and it’s as if she stepped off a movie set, still in costume.
Beatrice has opted for a pair of nicer shorts and a long-sleeved flowy shirt with stripes. She keeps a few of the top buttons undone, allowing her skin some access to the balmy night air. Her long hair is out, swept over one shoulder as she fiddles with her keys. The rings she wears clink noisily against the metal.
Even Michael looks nice, sitting in the driver’s seat with a short-sleeved button down and his hair styled. It’s about as dressed up as anyone gets around here, especially approaching summertime.
“Hi,” Ava says lightly as she approaches, and it’s the closest she’s ever been to bashful in Beatrice’s presence.
“Hi,” Beatrice echoes, matching her tone. “You look lovely, Ava.” It’s the world’s biggest understatement, but she’s attempting to keep herself contained. And she can’t not comment — it feels like a disservice.
Beatrice sees it as soon as it happens — the blush spills forth on her cheeks and when did they suddenly enter a parallel universe where Ava is the one getting flustered? Perhaps she’s suffering from heatstroke after being out on the water all morning. To Beatrice, that’s a more reasonable explanation than actually being shy.
“Thank you.” Ava just looks at her, transfixed. She’s so soft just standing there — her voice, her skin, her words. Like Beatrice needs to tread carefully in her presence. “Your hair… it’s so pretty.”
Oh. This is the first time Ava has seen her with her hair out, but she hadn’t been expecting any kind of reaction. She runs a hand through it self-consciously, but that only seems to make her stare harder. At her hand or her hair or both, Beatrice is unsure.
“I— Thank you, Ava.”
The interaction feels charged, and Beatrice doesn’t know what to do with all this energy uselessly floating between them. The only thing bringing her back down to Earth is Michael, who is patiently waiting for the two of them to get in the car. Poor Michael, he’s had to put up with a lot in the last day.
Beatrice clears her throat. “I… suppose we have a reservation to get to.”
“Right! Yes.” Ava spins around immediately, opening the car door and hopping inside. She does so in record time, and it leaves Beatrice with whiplash.
She opens the back door and climbs in, greeting Michael as she does. As he begins to drive, all she can see of Ava is the back of her head and the thin strap of her dress against her bare shoulder. For the second time today, she wants to brush her fingers along the skin there — the kind of impulse she doesn’t normally feel that makes her stomach do somersaults.
The kind that makes her feel like she’s arriving home only to be shipped off to Catholic boarding school again.
The kind that scares her, like a ship in a raging storm.
/
Michael pulls into the carpark of a bar-restaurant called Vincent’s, and Ava’s immediately surprised by how close to the beach it is.
It’s situated on a boardwalk with a bunch of other restaurants and shops lining it all the way along. But if you step off the boardwalk, you hit sand, and from there, it’s a brief stroll to the water’s edge. By the time they arrive, the sun has just set, and the orange glow in the sky is giving way to a purple hue. It’s hard for Ava to imagine that those same whales they saw today are somewhere out there, in a whole other world, living parallel to them.
“This place looks nice,” Ava comments, bouncing on her toes a little as she stands next to Beatrice. It feels a little pathetic — like she’s desperately seeking any kind of interaction she can get from her — but she is nothing if not shameless.
And, of course, it doesn’t help when Beatrice indulges her. “It is,” she responds, turning towards her with a devastatingly gentle smile. Her eyes are darker now that there’s no daylight, and Ava is content to stare for an acceptable amount of time before it’s considered creepy.
As soon as they enter the restaurant, a woman with dark, curly hair approaches them with a bright smile, holding several menus.
Beatrice steps forward with an exasperated sigh and a poorly-hidden smile of her own. “Yasmine, I told you, you don’t have to greet us at the door.”
“Nonsense.” She waves a hand. “What kind of manager would I be if I didn’t make a good first impression? This is a business, you know.” Turning towards Ava and Michael, she beams. “Hi! I’m Yasmine, Bea’s very, very good friend and I’ll be looking after you this evening, despite the protests of this one.” She nudges Beatrice with her shoulder.
Michael politely steps forward to shake her hand. “I’m Michael, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“I’m Ava, and wow, Beatrice, are all of your friends this nice? ‘Cause I want some.”
Yasmine chuckles. “She hasn’t met Lilith, I imagine.” She and Beatrice share a knowing look.
Beatrice laughs lightly, and now Ava is even more curious. The more she learns about this woman, the more she wants to dive in and keep swimming.
“But it’s lovely to meet you, Ava, Michael. You wanted a table outside, Bea?”
All of Beatrice’s friends are so… lively. Both Camila and Yasmine have this bright energy that follows them around, like they each have a halo. Beatrice is so different to them both, and it makes Ava so curious about the lives they have here, how they became friends. Camila’s accent is much closer to Australian, but still laced with something else. Yasmine seems to be somewhere between Camila and Beatrice, with a British accent that isn’t quite as strong. They all appear to be from different places, but they’ve all converged here. Together. It’s a really nice thought that pulls at Ava’s chest.
Walking through the restaurant, there’s a long bar at one end of the room, with various patrons standing around waiting for drinks. Next to it is a door that presumably leads to the kitchen. Another door towards the front leads to a function room of some sort. The main restaurant features large windows that face towards the water, and about three-quarters of the tables are currently occupied. The walls are covered with photos of various sizes — mostly of coastal landscapes, underwater photography, and various people. Some taken inside the restaurant, some not. The lights are slightly dimmed, and each table has a small lantern-like lamp on it. There’s a space in the corner that appears to be available for live music, but it’s currently vacant.
Yasmine leads them outside into a separate courtyard that overlooks the beach, but it’s not the ocean in front of her that gives Ava pause. Beautiful fairy lights hang around the space, giving it an luminous glow. Lattice blocks the space from the public, and ivy and other greenery are woven between the spaces, further obscuring the view. It’s not the atmosphere Ava had been expecting. Sure, not everyone out here is a table for two — there are a couple of groups, likely enjoying end-of-the-week drinks. But she can definitely see herself coming here if she was actively searching for a romantic vibe.
They’re led over to a table in the corner, which would likely have a fabulous view of the ocean during the day time. Once they get themselves situated, Yasmine hands them their menus.
“So, you can order your drinks with me or go up to the bar at any time,” she explains. “Bea knows the drill, but if you have any other questions, please let me know.”
Michael orders for himself, but Ava is content to let Beatrice choose what she drinks. She doesn’t have a preference, and can drink just about anything at any time. And she wouldn’t categorise Beatrice as entirely straight-laced, but she’s definitely wound a little tighter than the average person. So, naturally, Ava is desperate to know what kind of alcohol she drinks. In the end, she opts for a bottle of white wine for them to share, and Yasmine leaves them to decide on their food.
“Wow, you’ve got the manager taking care of us?” Ava lets out a low whistle. “Getting the VIP treatment two days in a row.”
Beatrice shakes her head with a smile. “I called Yasmine to make the reservation and she was very interested when I said it was for three. My friends are incapable of minding their own business, but that’s alright.”
“If you come here a lot, then you must know what’s good,” Michael says.
“Well, I’m not much of a seafood eater but I do highly recommend it. Vincent owns the restaurant but he’s also the head chef, so the food is always incredible. His steaks are the best along this boardwalk, if not the entire town.”
Michael makes a thoughtful sound before turning back to his menu.
“What’d you do for the rest of the afternoon?” Ava asks Beatrice, leaning on the table with her chin in her hands. She hasn’t looked at her menu once, but while Michael is keen to get food, she’s much more interested in the present company.
Beatrice also puts her menu down to make eye contact. “I went for a surf.”
“Again?”
Beatrice smiles. “Again.”
“Damn, that’s commitment.” Ava smiles goofily at her, just as Yasmine returns with their drinks.
Beatrice’s brow furrows as she approaches. “What are you doing serving these? Don’t you have an entire restaurant to manage?” She doesn’t say the words unkindly, more out of confusion.
“I’m not above serving drinks, Bea.” Yasmine pretends to huff. “I was serving drinks here before you’d even heard of this town.”
“I’m well aware,” Beatrice replies, amused.
Ava grins as she looks between them. “We were just saying we’re being treated like celebrities here. Careful, Beatrice, a girl’s gonna think she’s special with all this attention.”
It’s a joke, and the atmosphere at the table tells her that everyone takes it as one, but what she hyper-focuses on is the way Beatrice’s eyes land on her. Like a moth to a flame. Her expression isn’t serious, but curious. Puzzled. Like there’s some sort of inner battle going on behind her eyes that even she doesn’t fully understand. The other thing Ava notices is that she doesn’t verbally respond, so the response she does receive is for her only.
Yasmine seems to notice the energy shift, and she takes a step back. “I will be back in a couple of minutes to take your order. Take your time!”
Ava raises an eyebrow as she looks at the two wine glasses. “Shouldn’t I be buying the drinks? Pretty sure that was part of our deal yesterday.”
Beatrice doesn’t always go along with her banter, but when she does, it’s glorious. “I believe I was promised a handmade cocktail. Simply paying is a little too easy, don’t you agree?”
“Well, there is a bar back there. I think I can convince Yasmine.” Ava nods, pretending to be serious about her plan.
She keeps her eyes on Beatrice, but she does notice that Michael has lowered his menu, looking back and forth between the two of them. There’s a sly smile on his face, perhaps imperceptible to someone who doesn’t know him as well as Ava does, before he closes the menu.
“Ladies, I do apologise,” he begins, “but I may have to take my leave. I thought I could stick it out through dinner, but I truly don’t think I can.”
“What are you talking about?” Ava frowns. “You were just saying you wanted food.”
“Honestly, I haven’t been feeling very well at all since we got back from the tour. That fish I had for lunch doesn’t seem to be agreeing with me, and I think I need an early night.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Beatrice seems perplexed, and surely she doesn’t believe whatever act he’s putting on. Whatever it is, he’s certainly making a show of it. “We can leave and reschedule for tomorrow night, it’s really no trouble.”
“No, no, no.” Michael waves a hand as he stands up out of his chair. Ava knows he’s feeling just fine, but honestly, he looks pale enough a lot of the time for it to be somewhat convincing. “Please, stay and have a good time. And I am sorry, Beatrice.”
“No, it’s absolutely fine,” Beatrice responds, her words trailing off as if she’s a little lost in the conversation. Honestly, Ava doesn’t blame her.
And just like that, he’s gone, and there’s suddenly two of them at a table for three.
“That was fucking weird,” she says bluntly as soon as Michael is out of sight. A part of her wants to chase after him. Beatrice invited the both of them out, and it seems rude to up and leave the way he just did.
“He didn’t seem sick when you picked me up,” Beatrice muses. “If I’ve done something to offend him—”
“Oh, it’s definitely not you, I promise,” Ava assures her. Beatrice, possibly the most considerate person she has ever met, is very likely not capable of offending someone accidentally. That, she can vouch for. The last thing she wants is for her to feel bad in any way. “I’ll text him,” she offers, because she, too, isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing. It’s unlike him to not explain himself, especially if it involves leaving her behind. She pulls out her phone, tapping out a quick message.
[Ava] hey, what the hell was that?
[Michael] I’m fine. Text me when you need to be picked up
[Ava] well that’s super vague and unhelpful
[Ava] what the fuck’s going on with you?
[Michael] Ava, look around
[Michael] Trust me, I think you’ll thank me later
As she lets his messages sink in and she dares to absorb her surroundings, the lightbulb finally goes off in her head. The fairy lights, the food, the banter, the atmosphere, the sound of the waves in the dark. He was having the exact same thoughts she had when she walked in. He felt like he was third-wheeling. He’s giving them time alone.
Of course, alone time with Beatrice is award-worthy in Ava’s book. She highly recommends alone time with Beatrice. But she doesn’t want to force her into an intimate date-like scenario that she didn’t consent to. Still, Beatrice picked this place knowing full well what was involved, and she hasn’t backed out yet. The best thing to do may be to just follow her lead, and not make the situation anything more than it currently is.
[Ava] your acting sucks, we have to work on that
“I think he’s okay,” Ava finally tells her, putting her phone away. “He was vague about it, but he gets like that when he’s tired.”
Beatrice only nods, and the worry lingers on her face only briefly before she rejoins the present moment.
“I’m sorry about that. You invited us both out and I know he really appreciates it, I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude.” Knowing what she knows about Michael, it’s fairly rare that anyone pays for his meals unless he’s back home with his family. He probably appreciates the gesture more than either of them realise.
“No,” Beatrice responds, a little too quickly. “I don’t mind. We can continue, if you’d like.”
Ava’s heart swells. She’d been worried for a moment that maybe Beatrice would want to back out. Break the spell of whatever this evening was. As the hours tick by and the more time she spends with her, she understands just how precious these moments with her are.
“Yeah, no, I’d love to.” Ava picks up the menu again, deciding to try her absolute best to salvage the night. “You were saying something about seafood?”
/
“What do you like to do? When you’re not working.” Ava hopes it doesn’t come across sounding like a line, because she’s genuinely curious and she thinks she’s done a fabulous job so far at balancing on this very fine line.
Their plates have been cleared, they’re on their second bottle of wine, and Ava feels a very pleasant buzz, as if she’s floating. It’s most definitely the alcohol, but she’s sure she’s also a little drunk off of this entire evening. Michael was right: Regardless of how it ends, she will definitely be thanking him for this.
Especially with Beatrice looking the way she does right now. With her cheeks lightly flushed and her shirt partially unbuttoned. With her gorgeous hair, tinged with gold. Ava’s eyes continue to land on the exposed patch of skin on her chest. She’s sure if she looked close enough, she’d find more freckles. She focuses on the way her ringed fingers hold her wine glass, and how each one of her smiles reach her eyes.
Another thing she’s learned: Beatrice talks a little more after a few drinks. Not a huge amount, but here and there she’ll add a few more details to a story, or she’ll elaborate a little more on a point she makes. It gives Ava a glimpse into what she’s like when she’s truly comfortable around a person. If she were candid and filterless. Maybe allowing herself to drink this much in front of Ava means she is a little comfortable with her.
“Honestly, I’m usually out on the water. Surfing or diving. My friends like to hire a boat if it’s a particularly hot weekend. Camping can be fun if the humidity is bearable. And we come here a lot.” She gestures to the space around them.
There’s a joke there about how Beatrice likes to be both above and below, and it’s burning on the tip of Ava’s tongue, but she forces herself to square it away because there’s that fine line again that she can’t bring herself to cross. Jesus Christ, you’ve known this woman for a day. She needs to hold her horses. She doesn’t need to attempt to seduce someone in every town she goes to. Beatrice isn’t some drunken guy having a wild night out with his friends, or a woman that is very obviously hanging all over her. She's not a one night stand.
And yes, perhaps her global escapades have included trying to have sexual experiences and find some sort of connection through them. Being the weird orphan kid and the weird foster kid growing up really does a number on your self-esteem. Now she’s an adult and she’s seeing the world and she’s no longer confined to a cage. People find her hot. Often. And sure, she doesn’t sleep with everyone who buys her a drink or makes out with her in a club, but it’s new and exciting and Ava explores that whenever she feels like it. She’s always safe and she gets tested regularly, so she’s certainly no danger to society.
Then there’s Beatrice, who tends to clench her hand or her jaw when she’s uncomfortable. Who often blushes and averts her gaze in the moments when Ava’s mouth has disconnected from her brain. But God, she is beautiful. Especially under the soft glow of the fairy lights, she is heavenly. Like Vincent hung them just so Beatrice herself could bask in them. So she dials it back, at least a little, because she doesn’t want to overstep the boundary she put there herself.
Surely this is just the heat making her restless.
Ava can tell Beatrice is trying to read her expression and it’s then she realises she’s completely lost track of the conversation. She doesn’t even remember the last thing she said. “Fuck. Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I totally lost myself for a sec there.”
“Are you okay?” And, yeah, the constant concern for Ava’s wellbeing doesn’t help matters. It’s almost automatic with Beatrice, and she’s desperate to know where that tendency comes from.
“Yeah, of course.” Her head bobs. “I just… I guess I want to know about you. Is that weird?” It’s not entirely false, but she’s definitely going to give her the PG version of her thoughts.
“We were already talking about me,” Beatrice responds, teasing.
Now it’s Ava’s turn to flush red, the heat searing up her neck. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Did I say that already? Maybe I got too much sun today.”
Without missing a beat, Beatrice picks up the water jug Yasmine had delivered to them some time ago and carefully pours some into Ava’s empty glass. She focuses on the condensation sweating on the outside of the jug, trying to ignore the way her heart skips a little at the gesture. “Thank you.”
“Heatstroke can sneak up on you, especially after the sun goes down. Do you feel nauseous at all?”
The worst part is, Ava knows she definitely doesn’t have heatstroke. Her brain just melted while looking at the extremely attractive woman she’s currently opposite. Maybe the symptoms are similar. “No, I think I’m okay.”
“You should still drink,” Beatrice tells her and, well, of course she’s going to obey. The water is still refreshingly cold, and she finishes the glass in one go. Beatrice looks satisfied, which is all she can really ask for. “You asked me what I like to do,” she adds kindly, taking her by the shoulders and gently steering her in the direction of the conversation.
“Right!” The lightbulb moment causes a burst of enthusiasm. “We don’t have to talk about anything too personal, but I don’t know… I’m interested in your life here— I hope that doesn’t sound weird.” Beatrice doesn’t have to tell her that she’s reserved, because Ava knows just by interacting with her that they’re total opposites. “People sort of find a place and put down roots but… it doesn’t always mean something, I guess? Yesterday you made it sound like you were bonded with this place for life.”
It intrigues Ava because she’s never had that. In yet another way, they’re the exact opposite. She bounced around multiple countries and never felt an anchor in any of them. And it wasn’t just the places themselves, but it was difficult to find people to connect with, too. She doesn’t have the social skills that everyone else her age does. She often feels behind in just about everything.
“I got lucky,” Beatrice says simply, and Ava sees the affection behind her eyes. “My boss, Suzanne… she owns both the bookstore and the house.”
“Your boss is your landlord?”
Beatrice chuckles lightly, and it’s better than music. It’s a rare gem amongst ruins, pure and untouched. “When you put it that way, it sounds awful. No, she’s…” Her gaze drifts over Ava’s shoulder, focusing on a point somewhere behind her. “She became like a mother to me. She’s been through a lot and she took me in when I first arrived. I wouldn’t have a home or a job without her.”
Ava’s immediate thought is that she wants to meet her. She wants to meet anyone who has touched Beatrice’s life so profoundly. Anyone who has shaped the woman sitting in front of her is someone worth knowing.
“I was running.” Ava holds her breath, and Beatrice doesn’t elaborate. “For years it felt as if all I did was run. This was the first place that made me feel like I didn’t have to.”
Ava softens. “I’m glad you found that.” Beatrice sometimes comes across as cautious, or even distant. Even though she doesn’t go into details, Ava’s surprised she opened up as much as she did. “Thank you for telling me.”
It’s then that Beatrice flashes an embarrassed expression, and she drops her gaze to her lap. “I feel like I’ve monopolised the conversation.”
“I can tell you something about me,” Ava offers. For a lot of her life, she felt like she was screaming inside a soundproof cage made of glass, but nobody was paying any attention to her. Maybe it’s her desperation for someone to finally see her as she is that drives her words.
“Only if you’d like.”
“It’s a little…” She starts, her mouth warping as she tries to control any emotions that might bubble up. “Dark.”
“That’s alright,” Beatrice responds, her tone delicate.
“Okay… I was in a car crash as a kid. It was pretty bad.”
Beatrice goes very still. “Ava…”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not, like, some secret I keep buried or anything.” Ava waves her hand. She hasn’t told many people because she doesn’t really get the opportunity. There’s very rarely a moment where she gets a prolonged amount of time with someone her own age who isn’t Michael. And she trusts Beatrice, for some otherworldly reason. “But we don’t have to talk about it. I know it can make people uncomfortable.”
“No.” Beatrice responds quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not uncomfortable. You can say as much or as little as you’d like. I’m listening.”
Ava sighs, her nails tapping against the table top. The tables that sit outside have no protection from the elements, and the salt air has worn them just a little. They remind her a little of the bookshelves at Superion Books. Her heart encases the memory, holding it close.
“I was seven. My mother was driving and someone crashed into us and she… well.” She takes a moment, avoiding Beatrice’s gaze. “There are parts I remember and wish I didn’t. Then I woke up in hospital with a foster family standing over me, and… that was that.”
“I am so sorry, Ava.” And she means it. Ava can hear the pain in her voice as if it were her own. “Truly.”
She doesn’t know how to respond, so she continues to stare down at the table. Her heart hammers in her chest like a drum.
“Were you hurt?” Beatrice asks, her voice so gentle it’s nearly ghostlike.
Ava immediately flashes back to that day. To the one image that has taken up residence in her mind for years. “Uh, kinda. My leg was pinned and I couldn’t move until they got me out. It was pretty bad, I was on crutches for a long time. It’s okay now, though.” At least, physically.
“That’s why you don’t drive,” Beatrice notes softly, and it’s such a plain statement but it causes the universe to open up. It’s not a particularly mind-blowing observation, but in a way it sort of is. She’d connected the dots with Ava only giving her the bare minimum. She never even told Beatrice that she didn’t drive, only that Michael had been driving her around on this trip.
Their eyes meet, and Ava’s lower lip wobbles ever-so slightly that she thinks anyone but Beatrice would miss it under the dim lights. She doesn’t need to respond, because her eyes flash with a knowing look. She averts her gaze, suddenly desperate to not be perceived as emotions well up inside of her.
“I can tell you something about me,” Beatrice echoes her words from earlier, reading her mind with just a glance. Ava thinks it’s hardly fair, considering she’d already opened up once, but she’s offering and she’d do just about anything to not cry right now.
She nods a little, her gaze landing on the table again.
“I almost drowned once,” she says, and her voice is so serene that nobody would ever guess the topic of the conversation. “It’s not even remotely close to what you went through, but it’s true.”
“How?” Ava sniffles lightly. “You’re basically a fish.”
Beatrice’s smile is wide, and it’s absolutely worth every painful memory Ava just had to relive. “That’s… certainly a word for it. But… I was just a child, on a trip with my parents. We went to an unpatrolled beach — I went swimming and got caught in a rip. I was always a good swimmer, but nobody ever taught me what to look out for in the ocean. How to spot a rip or how to get myself out of one. At first, I didn’t realise what was happening, but the shore was becoming more distant, and I was struggling to keep my head above water. My father, of course, was occupied elsewhere and didn’t even see it happen.”
“What an asshole,” Ava interjects without thinking. Then, she adds: “Sorry.”
“No, it’s a fair assessment.” Beatrice exhales. “Regardless, a stranger swam all the way out from the shore and saved me. When my father returned, he didn’t even know what had happened.” She waves a hand dismissively, as if she doesn’t even want to dwell on the thought of her father. Fair enough, Ava thinks. “I didn’t go back into the ocean until I was an adult. That’s when I became…” She scrunches up her nose adorably, adding a smile. “...a fish.”
Ava grins, despite herself, and she feels it reach her eyes. “It’s really cool that you overcame that. Some would say it’s fin-tastic.”
“Wow,” Beatrice says, toying with her glass, but Ava is delighted to know her stupidity at least makes her smile. “Possibly your worst one yet, I’m afraid.”
Ava laughs. “I am so sorry, please continue.”
“All I meant to say was… healing is different for us all. It’s never a linear process, and there is no time limit on it.” Beatrice looks at her kindly, but without pity, and that’s the only thing Ava has ever asked of anybody. “Those psychological wounds we carry… they often take more time and care than physical ones. I think…” She takes a deep breath. “I think you’re… doing swimmingly.”
Ava’s mouth falls open. “Beatrice.”
Beatrice ducks her head. “Too much?”
Ava laughs loudly, earnestly, “Fuck no, I’m so impressed! First baby whales and now swapping puns? This is amazing. Best day ever.”
Beatrice’s smile is, as always, like something out of a painting. Grand and captivating. The moment lingers, gently, before she lowers her voice again. “May I ask you something?”
“Yeah, shoot.” Despite the casual words, her voice softens alongside Beatrice’s.
“Today, in the car, you seemed very relaxed, despite what you just told me,” she says. “Is it Michael?”
“Yeah.” Ava exhales, nodding. “I trust him. We’ve been friends for a really long time and I know when he’s in the driver’s seat that I’m safe. If it’s anyone else, I just… I can’t do it.” She knows that’s not a guarantee — that anything can happen on the road unexpectedly — but Michael is such a careful driver that it’s enough of an illusion for Ava. “When we decided to start travelling together, we would always hire a car and he would always drive. He doesn’t drink or anything, so it worked out well.” In truth, she feels ridiculous — not being able to swim, not being able to drive. Being in her early twenties and having the life experience of a teenager.
“It’s good that you have someone like him by your side.”
“Sometimes I feel bad… that he has to deal with me.”
To her surprise, Beatrice’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Deal with you? I can’t imagine he thinks that way. Your company has only ever been a pleasure.”
Warmth spreads throughout Ava’s abdomen at the words, seeping into every corner of her body. If there’s one thing Beatrice can do, it’s give a compliment. And Ava Silva has been complimented a lot in the past few years. None have ever been quite as genuine.
“I’m not always the easiest person to travel with.” Ava chooses not to elaborate, which says a lot, considering Beatrice is only the second person she has told about the car crash in more depth than ‘hey, I’m an orphan’.
“I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself,” Beatrice murmurs. Ava almost doesn’t hear her over the sound of a particularly loud wave in the background.
Ava’s starting to understand why Michael decided to leave. There’s something simmering in the air and she doesn’t want to look away from her. She would feel bad subjecting him to… whatever this is. She wouldn’t want to be him if the roles were reversed. “Thank you, for… all of this. I wasn’t… expecting it.” She says the words slowly, kneading them like dough.
“All I did was listen,” Beatrice responds, followed by a kind smile that makes Ava feel wholly safe. “And Ava… this may be out of line, so feel free to say so, but I do teach people how to swim.” She continues to watch her, gauging her reaction. “I’m a qualified instructor, and I even teach children. If you’d like me to teach you anything before you go, I’d be happy to do it. I… worry about sending you on your way without any concept of the basics. So many preventable accidents happen in this country involving water. If you’re afraid, that is more than alright and I can help you—”
The proposition sounds truly terrifying to begin with, but the more she rambles on, Ava finds that there’s a smile growing on her face. “You’re cute.” The words spill out mindlessly and it’s the red, flashing neon sign indicating that she’s crossing from ‘tipsy’ to ‘drunk’. “That… came out wrong.” She can’t rightfully apologise, because she’s not sorry. Not in the least.
Beatrice’s expression is unreadable for a moment, before her brow softens, her eyes hinting at amusement. “Did it?”
Ava exhales, and it becomes a laugh. “Well… no.”
Beatrice doesn’t say anything, only maintains eye contact as she picks up her wine glass again. Ava’s sure if she were sober, she wouldn’t find this moment particularly dangerous, but she’s a little addicted to the way she’s looking at her. Such an indecipherable, neutral expression, but there’s a hint of something else in her eyes that she’s desperate to understand. She wants to dig down deeper with her bare hands and discover the truth underneath.
But, she’s not going to be doing anything like that in this condition. She picks up her own glass, finishing the remainder of her drink in one gulp. “Well, Beatrice…” She announces. “If you’re going to teach me how to swim, I should probably not be hungover when it happens.”
Surprises briefly flashes across Beatrice’s face. “That’s… Are you sure? You’ve been drinking, Ava. You might change your mind by tomorrow. I don’t want to push you into anything.”
Ava bites her lip. Fuck, the alcohol is making her bold. Any other night with any other person, this would be a win. Tonight, it doesn’t feel like a win. Instead, she felt like she won when she caught Beatrice watching her out on the boat, an ocean with frolicking whales as their backdrop. And tonight, when she was able to tell a woman she’s known for a day about her trauma and not regret it for a single second.
In short, Beatrice deserves better. But drunk Ava doesn’t really comprehend what that means.
“If you give me your number, then I can let you know.”
Ava swears she hears a quiet laugh as Beatrice pulls out her phone, unlocks it, and hands it over to her. She puts herself in her contacts as ‘Ava’ along with the cowboy emoji, the whale emoji, and the heart on fire emoji before handing it back to her.
Beatrice studies her phone screen, her lips quirking upwards before she puts it away again.
“I will text you later,” she promises and oh, is Ava looking forward to it. She locks eyes with one of the waiters and gestures for the bill. “Will Michael be picking you up?”
“He can take us both.”
Beatrice smiles kindly, but shakes her head. “Yasmine’s shift will be ending soon, I’ll get her to drive me.”
Ava’s rogue, drunk brain wonders if she’s worried that she’ll try something on her, but she can’t formulate the words to express her thoughts out loud. It doesn’t put a sour note on the evening by any means, but she knows that sober Ava is going to be disappointed in herself. She doesn’t have the capacity to overthink things right now, but she certainly will tomorrow.
Beatrice pays the bill and even waits out the front with her for Michael to pull up. Ava cradles a glass of water in her hands, leaning with her back against the wall, the two of them side by side.
“I… did not mean to drink so much,” Ava murmurs, finally reaching the ‘sleepy’ portion of her stupor. She has a feeling the wine was a little more expensive than she’s used to. At least she didn’t get drunk enough to be sick.
“Ava,” Beatrice starts, and Ava looks up at her. She’s wavering in and out of focus, but she’s there. “It’s okay. I had a nice time.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” She leans in ever-so-slightly, and Ava doesn’t breathe as she lowers her voice. “My friends and I have had enough drunken nights here ourselves, I wouldn’t worry too much.”
Ava nods dumbly, as if there was something in that statement to actually nod at. Michael pulls up only moments later, and she feels a hand on her shoulder. With the dress she’s wearing, it’s entirely skin on skin, and she’s burning and drowning all at once. Turning to look, she meets Beatrice’s near-hesitant gaze as it washes over her.
“Get home safe.” Her voice is a low murmur, and Ava’s drunken self wants to wrap herself up in it. Hell, her sober self too, probably. Her hand is gone as quickly as it arrives, and she starts to wonder if she imagined it. She’s able to get to the car on her own, which is a good sign, and gives Beatrice a wave of all things as Michael rolls the window down for her.
Beatrice smiles as she waves back. It’s a single movement of her hand, not like Ava’s hand that sort of wiggles back and forth in the air.
She rests her chin in the space where the window would be, her gaze tracking Beatrice until Michael turns the car around and begins driving in the opposite direction.
As promised, Beatrice does text her later. Ava’s freshly-showered, much closer to sober, and lying in bed, curled into her blankets with the air conditioner on full blast.
[Beatrice] Michael wasn’t sick at all.
It’s not a question, but a statement. It makes her feel nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol she’s consumed.
[Ava] no, he wasn’t
[Ava] i had no idea he was gonna do that, i’m sorry if you felt trapped
[Beatrice] Absolutely not, I meant what I said. Please don’t apologise.
[Beatrice] I’m glad we got to talk.
She lets out the breath she’s holding, the nausea subsiding.
[Ava] me too
[Beatrice] If you haven’t changed your mind, I will be at the beach tomorrow at 9.
[Beatrice] Make sure you drink some water.
It takes a moment for the last message to come through, and Ava watches as the typing dots continuously vanish and reappear. Once it finally arrives, it’s short and concise, but it contains so much more than what’s on the screen.
[Beatrice] Sleep well, Ava.
As if her message casts a spell, as if she can hear Beatrice’s words in her ear, Ava falls asleep almost immediately after, phone still clutched in her hand.