Disclaimer: I don't own Chess or any of its characters (though I wish to hell I did). xD
I took some liberties with this. ^^;
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Florence loved chess. Chess was solid, chess was constant, and chess was forever. It stood firm in the shadowy echoes of her mind, a pillar in the weaving paths of her subconscious. Her memories ebbed and flowed, grew dim and shone bright, but chess was always there, giving her something to lean upon.
In her last life, the one with two parents, a home, and a family, chess had been there. Her father, only a silhouette now, had taught her the tricks, the nuances, and the passion of the game which still glowed in her mind long after he had faded.
When she came to America, a young, confused refugee lacking even the simplest grasp of the English language, chess had been there to serve as a link between her and everyone else. Old friends left, new ones came, and eventually they all blended together in a mass of love and hate, of conquest and defeat. She learned English. She forgot Hungarian. She still played chess.
At school, her classmates knew her as quiet, as a refugee, as an orphan. She was subdued, alienated. Chess was her only friend, her only link to the stringy residue of the fading memories of her homeland. Chess was the rope that bound her to her history.
And then with Freddie, with whom she worked for, loved, and learned with. They had such little in common: he used her countlessly, manipulating her own absorption in her past to better himself while she used him as a way to gain higher ground. But the game was indeed greater than its players, and chess overshadowed the wickedness and differences in their personalities, not only tying itself to her present but tying her to him until the fame of being best in the world managed to get to Freddie's head.
Next Anatoly. Sweet conflicted Anatoly. He loved the game, he played the game, and he excelled at the game. He was connected to it even more than Freddie, who lost his appeal as his connection to chess, to Florence, ebbed away to nothing as his obsession for money grew. Anatoly ran away with her, and they started a new life. Chess was their common ground, an unbreakable stone that they exchanged themselves over, until they were completely in tune with one another. Florence learned to let go, and Anatoly learned to hold on, though it cost them dearly in the end.
And just like her parents, her friends, and Freddie, Anatoly left, swept away by threats and promises of doom and better tomorrows, not for him, but for everyone else, and for the sake of his own connection to the game. She knew the call he heard: she'd heard it her whole life, and how could he refuse his pillar? Chess was a pillar, and not just to her. She had been hurt, yes, but the game was again, greater than its players, and she knew they would meet again.
Chess brought her life together. Chess brought all of their lives together. And though she despised Walter, he was right: she would be back next year.
Some things were just too hard to let go of.
-30-