The cramped library room was buzzing with visitors, mostly women, and the scent of their perfume mingled with one another, turning from a refined plume to an expensive-smelling blandness. Castle stood on the pedestal and read out quotes from the book. Waving his hand in the air, he issued a phrase and paused, intently watching the reaction of the audience. Then, after a pause, he continued on. He already knew what his next book would be about, because success stunned him, but did not rob him of his judgment and sobriety. So as he stood in the crowded auditorium, he smiled politely at the fans. Because he couldn't deceive their aspirations, and the readers' appreciation is box office receipts, it's money for his mother's surgery and closing all his debts. Besides, he and Louis had come to an agreement after all, and not even Arlette could spoil anything anymore. And it was over between the two of them, definitively and irrevocably, and they could move forward. And it would have been better with Kate, but... Rick paused, took a sip from his glass of water. He would have to forbid himself to think about her for now, because his literary career was on the rise, and Paula was also overjoyed. She had even planned the schedule of her presentations for several months ahead, and Castle was eager to fulfill this "duty". More fans meant more useful connections and more word-of-mouth publicity than television. That's what really matters now, yes...
...Already on the way to the presentation site, Kate slowed down. She got here purely on emotion, but what would happen next, Beckett didn't even want to guess (as opposed to her usual rational self). As she needs neither pity nor sympathy from Castle, her visit is likely to be fleeting, inconspicuous, in the last ranks of admirers, and Castle will not even know of her presence. Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that she is driven by simple curiosity, densely mixed with personal drama, but still, what is it about his latest book that both Rachel and Madeleine are willing to read it all night long? What attracted them to it? The twisted plot, the characterization of the characters, the descriptiveness of the scene? Or maybe it fully discloses the relationship between a man and a woman, and who knows, maybe in the main character Kate will recognize herself? Would she start reading with passion, and her heart would feel a little better? No, her grief can not brighten anything, but somehow we have to hold on, to endure and realize his new dream. To find and punish the killers, there is no other way but to study at the police academy - but she must somehow survive until the moment of admission. For that is the motive. To tear her skin off, to turn herself inside out, but to get in.
To learn to think like a cop, to learn to shoot, and to learn to be patient all over again. It is here for a long time, inside, its pain, and not to go crazy, not to throw everything to hell, it must be enclosed in a cocoon, erect around the walls and bring closer, closer to the moment when revenge and justice will be done. And if this is called obsession, so be it. You can't keep shedding a tear indefinitely, you have to move forward, yes. And with these thoughts, Kate pushed open the front door.
A narrow, half-dark corridor led to a crowded reading room. The bookcases began in narrow rows just inside the entrance, and where they had been rolled up, a curious crowd of admirers of Kaslowski's talent was already crowding the room. Between them Beckett cautiously crept to the window and, craning her neck slightly, looked around. There was already a small pedestal set up where literature was usually handed out, and behind it Kate saw Castle: he was reciting excerpts from a book. And the visitors were really chilling: many of the women held handkerchiefs to their eyes, and the rare men with a new novel in their hands tried to look nonchalant, but the interested, attentive gaze of some of them indicated that Castle's prose was hitting the mark.
So Kate stayed on the edge, crouched on the window sill so that she would not be visible from the podium, and she was in control. And she listened. So quietly the whole hour flew by, during which dead silence reigned in the hall, and Castle's voice reached the farthest corners. No one interrupted him, no one asked questions, and when Rick paused for a sip of water, the audience held their breath. And Kate realized that she hadn't come here for nothing; she was actually relieved, and the bitterness burning inside loosened a little. Castle enriched her, Kate, with positive emotions with his well-directed, twisting plot twists, and when Rick closed the volume, summing it up, the applause was loud, coherent, sustained, and people clapped and clapped as hard as they could, proudly squaring their shoulders. And Beckett made up her mind: she persuaded her neighbor, a pretty young girl, to sign the book for her. The girl turned out to be a pushover, and when the coveted volume was in Kate's hands, it was impossible to convey the full range of her feelings. Forgetting where she was, Beckett flipped through the pages with excitement, gazing intently at the colorful illustrations, until suddenly she realized that she was being addressed by name:
- Kate?!
And Beckett, abruptly swooning in her heart, looked up: not far from the podium, right on the couch, was Pumpkin standing and waving to her cheerfully:
- Kate! Kate! Hello, hello, hello!
- Oh, shit!" groaned Beckett, not wanting this meeting. - No, not again!
Seeing that people had gotten between them, she immediately put the book in front of her, covering her face, and, with a sharp twist of her body, lowering her center of gravity, leaped from her seat and darted into the gap between the bookshelves. One row, another row, a third: Beckett was hurtling like a hurricane, hurrying like a hurricane, ruthlessly pushing the innocent visitors aside. She kicked open the door to the street, and, feeling no pain in her bruised leg, she ran down the street, farther and farther from Castle and the hall that had provided relief for only an hour. Her eyes were covered in tears again, and now Beckett was on her way to another place, their family home, where she and her father would visit again, but her mother would never visit again. And that could be accepted, but not anymore...
...Driving to the presentation site, Kate slowed down. She had come here purely on emotion, but what would happen next, Beckett didn't even want to guess (unlike her usual rational self). Since she needed neither pity nor sympathy from Castle, her visit would likely be fleeting, inconspicuous, in the last ranks of admirers, and Castle would not even know of her presence. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that she is driven by simple curiosity, densely mixed with personal drama, but still, what is it about his latest book that both Rachel and Madeleine are willing to read it all night long? What attracted them to it? The convoluted plot, the characterization of the characters, the descriptiveness of the scene? Or maybe it fully reveals the relationship between a man and a woman, and who knows, maybe Kate will recognize herself in the main character? Will she start reading with passion, and her heart will feel a little lighter? No, nothing can brighten her grief, but somehow she has to hang in there, endure and pursue her new dream. To find and punish the killers, there is no other way but to attend the police academy - but she must somehow survive to the point of admission. For that is the motive. To tear her skin off, to turn herself inside out, but to get in.
To learn to think like a cop, to learn to shoot, and to learn patience all over again. She's here for the long haul, inside, her pain, and not to go crazy, not to throw everything to hell, she has to be cocooned, put up around walls and bring closer, closer to that moment when vengeance and justice will prevail. And if this is called obsession, so be it. You can't endlessly shed tears; you have to move forward, yes. With these thoughts in mind, Kate pushed open the front door.
A narrow, semi-dark hallway led into a crowded reading room. The bookcases began in narrow rows just beyond the entrance, and a curious crowd of admirers of Kaslowski's talent was already thronged where they were curled up. Between them Beckett cautiously crept to the window and, arching her neck slightly, looked around. A small pedestal had already been set up there, where they usually handed out literature, and behind it Kate saw Castle: he was reciting passages from the book. And the visitors really froze: many of the women pressed their tissues to their eyes, the rare men with a new novel in their hands tried to look nonchalant, but the interested, attentive glances of some of them said that Castle's prose hit the spot.
So Kate kept to herself, crouched on a window sill so that she could not be seen from the podium, and controlled the situation. And she listened. So quietly the whole hour flew by, during which dead silence reigned in the hall, and Castle's voice reached the farthest corners. No one interrupted him, no one asked questions, and when Rick paused for a sip of water, the audience held their breath. And Kate realized she hadn't come here for nothing; she was truly relieved, and the bitterness burning inside eased a little. Castle had enriched her, Kate, with positive emotions with its well-choreographed, twisting plot twists, and when Rick closed the volume, summing it up, the applause was loud, coherent, sustained, and people clapped and clapped hard, shoulders squared with pride. And Beckett made up her mind: she persuaded her neighbor, a pretty young girl, to sign a book for her. The girl proved tenacious, and when the coveted volume was in Kate's hands, it was impossible to convey the full range of her feelings. Forgetting where she was, Beckett flipped through the pages with rapt attention, gazing intently at the colorful illustrations, until suddenly she realized that she was being addressed by name:
- Kate?!
And Beckett, stopping abruptly, looked up: not far from the podium, right on the sofa, stood Tykwer, cheerfully waving to her:
- Kate! Kate! Hello, hello, hello!
- Oh, shit!" - Beckett groaned, not wanting this meeting. - No, not again!
When she saw people come between them, she immediately put the book in front of her, covering her face, and, turning her body sharply, lowering her center of gravity, jumped up from her seat and rushed into the gap between the bookshelves. One row, another, a third: Beckett rushed like a hurricane, hurrying like a hurricane, mercilessly pushing away innocent visitors. She kicked open the door to the street and, feeling no pain in her bruised leg, ran down the street, further and further away from Castle and the hall, which had brought her relief for only an hour. Tears came to her eyes again, and now Beckett was on her way to another place, their family home, where she and her father would visit again, but her mother would never come again. And that was something she could live with, but not now...
...S of the presentation, right with the book in hand, she drove to Coney Island. There on the shore, near the passenger pier, her parents met. It was also where, as a little girl, they often went for walks. It was also where her mother's death took her.
Kate let go of the cab, kicked off her shoes, and wandered across the scalding sand to the caressing dunes of the sea. And the day had endured: the unobtrusive sound of the surf, the gulls calling overhead, and the hum of the steamships going off into the azure distance. Yes, the world around Kate lived its carefree life, and she was broken and depressed and devastated. Well, at least the gentle breeze had dried her tears, but the aching sensation in her chest and the haunting dryness in her mouth remained.
And there was the strip of surf, and the light waves that brought debris ashore, and the very pier where Daddy had sworn his mother to love him. As she had been barefoot, Beckett climbed the water-slick, salt-white stone steps. She walked to the very end of the pier, free of people and ships, and sat on the edge, with one foot resting and her chin on the other. She hugged her arms around her bent knee, and the book lay beside her. Now I could think about something, or I could just sit without being disturbed. To give myself a vow, a vow, to gather my thoughts again. To open a book and read a chapter at a glance, or to plunge into the prose from the beginning. Anything is possible and anything is necessary, but first... What is that? It's not a sea scent, is it?! Beckett pulled at her nose, and at that moment someone touched her shoulder. Beckett looked up: there stood before her a completely serious Rick, not like the fun-loving and jovial man she knew.
- How did you find me? - her lips touched a restrained smile.
In response, Castle swallowed first.
- My father told me where to find you.
- Did he tell you I didn't need help? - Beckett said in a single voice. - It's not like I can handle myself.
- And I wasn't going to say comforting words," and Castle sank down on the pier beside her (and he wasn't wearing shoes, either). - I just want to ask: What about the speed dive? I mean, we never really got around to that...
The memory seemed out of place to Kate, and she shifted her eyebrows sternly.
- I'm used to seeing things through to their logical conclusion, but what are you talking about now? I will live my life, and you and Alexis will live yours! And I don't need you to pry into my soul!
The hint was very clear, but Castle wouldn't budge. He didn't want to make things worse for Kate, but he really wanted to understand.
- You know," he said quietly, without answering directly, "even if my books find an audience, I'm not going to give up racing. Louie and I, along with another smart guy, have built a new bike, so I'm cautiously dreaming of someone to keep Alexis company while I take on the heights. And you're the person most suited to me. You don't have to say anything, just stick around and leave whenever you want. Well, how about it?
- How?! I haven't changed my mind, Castle," Kate said slowly, stretching her words, "but that's for later...
