Florence Vassy sat alone in her Conneticuit home, watching crooked rivers of water run down the window. She looked down at the chess board, contemplating the next move. She moved the knight along the squares, taking out a black bishop. It was her turn again. Florence found herself... playing chess by herself many days at a time. It was the only thing that kept Anatoly near.
[i]Anatoly...[/i] Her russian lover, taken away from her with such cunning plan, with such brilliant move. It tore her apart to remember the moment he walked away onto that plane. Did he ever find out he'd been played? The soviets traded him for Gregor, Florence's long lost father, who turned out to be a captured American agent, who wasn't Florence's father at all. Anatoly knew what Gregor Vassy meant to Florence, and did it kill him when he found out they both had been cheated?
Florence thought about what Anatoly was doing right now, somewhere far far away from her, in a land where you're free, but far from freedom at the same time; Communist Russia.
Florence wondered if him and Svetlana ever made up. Maybe their marriage was saved, and as long as he was happy, so was Florence.
But the bitter loneliness screamed everyday in her head. Freddie Trumper, the chess champion of the world had moved on, leaving Florence behind in the dust and flames. She'd never have the nerve to call him, probably because he'd never have the nerve to answer. He was a child anyways, and Florence did not love him anymore.
Florence drank straight from the wine bottle as she moved a rook four squares to the left. She closed her eyes, remembering.. everything. Everything came back to her. Anatoly, Freddie, Svetlana, Walter, Molokov... all these people! All these people, nothing but chess pieces on a chess board, with fate the Grandmaster, playing them like the cold war itself!
She opened her eyes again, staring down at the chess game below. Florence had enough of feeling lonely, sorry and above all, weak. It was time to move on. Move on from Anatoly--move on from chess. Florence said a silent vow to never play again. It was the only thing that kept Anatoly near.
Florence knew she'd never see him again, and his voice, his face, and memory will all fade if she gives it time. They will both die alone without the other knowing. As much as it broke poor Florence's heart, she sought strength. She looked over at the fireplace. She picked up the chess board and stepped over to the fire. The flames lapped in her glossy eyes as she stared at the pieces. Lost in the checkered pattered, she closed her eyes again, saying goodbye once again. Florence say Anatoly walking away in her head... just like the last time she ever saw him. The pain came back, and she forced her eyes open.
Florence tossed the whole board into the fireplace and watched it ignite. All her love, passion, pain and lonliness catching fire. Florence turned her back to the flames, then turned her head to the window. The rain had stopped, and no longer would she ever be played like a pawn again.