It just occured to me that my chapters are getting longer, and so they take more time to write. I might not update every week anymore, but until then, enjoy this one!
Chapter's title is from the beautiful song 'Welcome to wonderland' by the great Anson Seabra.
Chapter 7 : Dancing through a dream underneath the stars
The walk home is quiet.
Franky plays with the kite until the road splits in two and she must go her own way, opposite from the group's. She leaves them with a megawatt smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and with the radiant promise that she'll invite them over as soon as she's fully settled in. She shares a heavy look with Maxine and hopes that Boomer doesn't notice.
Boomer kicks a dozen of tiny rocks as she walks. She pouts all the way back at Maxine's sudden quietness and at the guarded secrets she knows exist outside her consciousness. She tells herself that it's not personal and that she should not be offended by the situation. She tries not to be hurt when she sees Franky and Maxine exchange silent words together.
Maxine listens to the rocks bouncing a few centimeters in front of the group as Boomer keeps kicking them farther. She focuses on pretending like every breath she takes doesn't send a sharp pain in her chest. After Franky leaves, she directs her eyes to the sky and wonders why such perfect day must come to an end.
Bea hears the almost inaudible way Maxine winces with every inhalation she takes. It breaks her into pieces and she wishes that she could give all her healthy parts to Maxine. She curses her inability to help. The presence of Allie offers somewhat of a distraction, and the memory of the wave crashing into them keeps sending heat in every atom of her body.
Allie watches Franky walks away and is reminded of what possibly awaits her if she ever betrays Bea. She thinks Bea is lucky to be surrounded by such beautiful, loyal people. She can't mess it up, can't relapse or go too fast with Bea. She must weight every decision she makes from now on, but she doesn't mind. She's ready to wait forever.
Their hearts beat all at once.
Vera listens attentively to Bea's speech about why keeping Allie at Wentworth would be the best decision she could make in a decade. She must admit that Bea is quite a good orator. She listens and shows that she cares about what Bea says by asking questions and repeating statements. She thinks about it. She really does. She thinks about the role of the shelter and the reason why they exist in the very first place.
There's no denying that Allie needs help, all the help she can get, but Vera's priority is to keep the current residents safe. Allie's past is anything but a guarantee that the women and their children will be safe. Vera weights Bea's arguments and really tries to focus on the positive outcomes that could result from Allie staying at Wentworth.
Sadly, it is a well-known rule that all residents of Wentworth must be clean, must not have taken drugs for at least three months prior their arrival. They're not a resource with the right tools to help those struggling with a drug addiction of any sort. There's also the fact that they don't accept ex-residents, especially if they've recently been kicked out for a solid reason.
She almost accepts. Almost. But she ultimately decides that she can't make an exception. She can't bend the rules in a way that would be unfair to other women or requests they might receive. She rejects Allie's request to stay permanently at Wentworth with a thousand apologies lining up on her lips.
Bea feels like every word Vera says comes out in the form of a guillotine slicing through Allie's best chance at getting wants to protest, but Vera makes it clear that this isn't up to discussion. Bea slams her fist on the table, and Vera gives her a fair warning that violence isn't tolerated here.
Bea shrugs, but she already has another idea in mind. If Vera won't let Allie come in, then she must let Bea go out for one entire night. It's something Wentworth doesn't allow either, for safety reasons.
Bea stands in the office for a full hour, arguing with Vera about why she should be allowed to spend a night out. Because she fears for Allie's life. Because it'd be stupid to gamble with Allie's life just because Vera wants to follow every goddamn rule that exists in this place. Because someone's life is worth more than that, more than rigidity and guidelines that were written without taking in consideration a person's personal needs.
This time, Bea comes out victorious with a golden ticket that allows her to leave Wentworth for a full twenty-four hours without risking losing her room.
Wentworth doesn't take reservation and doesn't keep places for people. Bea will need to come back tomorrow afternoon at the latest, or she'll find her belongings waiting for her outside.
It might be cruel, but it's the only way the shelter can deal with the constant demands from the many victims of domestic violence.
"Thank you," Bea says, standing on the shelter's porch with a small bag full of personal effects. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow."
Vera nods, glancing behind Bea at Allie's figure.
"Be safe, both of you."
She waits for Bea and Allie to be only shadows in the streets before she closes the door and locks it. She leans against it for a minute. It's midnight and it's pitch black outside. She just sent two women out in the streets for the night.
Two women she could have helped, had the situation been ever so slightly different.
She feels like she just betrayed everything she stands for.
Bea is fuming. She's incredibly furious at Vera for not being able to make an exception when a life is at stake. She wants to force Wentworth's door open and leave it like that all night, so that all those poor people forced to sell themselves to survive can have a safe place to stay.
She isn't sure when she's become so involved with Allie that the thought of the blonde spending a night in the streets makes her want to pull every hair off her head, but she doesn't care. Sure, Allie's probably an expert at surviving outside, but Bea cannot associate the streets with the concept of safety, no matter how hard she tries.
And she will be damned if she leaves Allie alone again, she thinks as she roughly kicks a poor rock that had the unfortunate luck to be lying on the ground in front of her foot. She will be damned if she doesn't go with her and help her, and care for her until the sunrise.
She thinks that if she had her own place, this would not be happening right now. All she'd need to do would be to invite Allie over, to give her a roof over her head and a warm bed to sleep in. She groans, remembering that the two apartments she's visited so far were awful.
"What now?" Allie asks when the shelter is no longer in sight. She's walking towards empty streets, making sure to avoid the districts she knows are trouble. She'll guide Bea safely or she'll never forgive herself. "I'd invite you at my place, but… you know. Are you sure you don't want to go back? I can take care of myself, you don't have to stay with me."
She feels bad for making Bea go this far. She knew Vera would never accept to let her in again, so why hadn't she stopped Bea before this stupid compromise was made? Now, all she can think about is that she's robbed Bea of a good night of sleep.
"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time," Bea points out, gently, but firmly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, at least for tonight. Let's go to your place."
The silence lasts the length of a single heartbeat.
"Unless you want to be left alone?"
"No, of course, I'd love to spend the night with you," Allie exhales slowly.
She'd love nothing more. In fact, it's pretty much all she's been wishing for in the past days. She just wishes she could offer more than a dirty cardboard on the ground.
"I don't have enough to pay for a motel or anything. Are you sure you're fine with sleeping on the ground?" she continues hesitantly.
It seems like a ridiculous offer and for the first time in years, Allie feels ashamed of her situation. Truly, heartbreakingly ashamed that this is where she ended up. Fuck whatever feelings are blooming in her heart whenever she sees Bea.
Bea deserves more than that. More than her.
And fuck the drugs and the withdrawals for making her feel miserable and drowning in doubts. She's never felt so small and empty like she does right now, and a small part of her is relieved that Bea has decided to stay with her for the night.
Because she knows she might have found that white cure again. That white powder that she still stubbornly associates with pleasure when it has ruined her life countless times.
"Are you even going to be able to sleep?" Allie chokes on her words.
Bea's never slept on the ground before. She's never even gone camping. She's used to huge mattresses and fluffy blankets that keep her warm. She's always been stuck between four walls and a roof. Sleeping outside in an alley had never crossed her mind, and it still doesn't sound very appealing today.
"It might sound crazy, but what if we don't sleep?" Bea offers, a shadow of a smile on her face. "We could just stay up all night."
"What, and go clubbing and make fools of ourselves like teenagers?" Allie answers sarcastically.
"I never said that, but if you're up for it, I know a place."
"A place," Allie echoes, a puzzled look on her face. "At this time? It's nearly one in the morning."
Bea nods confidently, secret well kept in her mind. The more she thinks about it, the more excited she gets.
"You sure?" Allie narrows her eyes. "Is it a hotel? Are you secretly trying to get into my pants? I promise you, you don't have to try so hard, you can have me right here, right now."
Bea rolls her eyes when Allie smiles innocently at her.
"Geez Bea, you could at least pretend like you want a piece of that," Allie deadpans, acting like she's offended.
Bea thinks that if she rolls her eyes farther, she might lose them in the back of her skull.
"It's just a place. You scared?" she asks mysteriously.
The laugh that comes out of Allie's throat is anything but scared. It's intrigued.
"Never, certainly not of you," Allie smirks.
Bea stops abruptly. She pulls at Allie's arm in a fluid motion and brings the blonde so close that their noses brush against each other. Allie's breath catches in her throat and Bea's lips are just millimeters away from hers.
"You should be," Bea teases, letting the words dangerously linger between them before she walks away, not giving Allie the chance to answer.
Allie stares at Bea's silhouette, lips parted and eyes blinking rapidly as she tries to control the rhythm of her heartbeat. She's vaguely confused. She's vaguely amused.
She'd love to pin Bea against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless.
She runs after Bea and takes her hand softly. Bea's eyes lock on hers in a magnetizing way.
"Should I?" Allie murmurs, breaking the distance between them once again. The warmth of Bea's breath caresses her lips and only makes her ache for more. She's so close to taste her.
Bea is shaking in her arms and it's enough to tame Allie's wildest cravings.
"I'm not scared," Allie smiles gently.
But you still are.
She inhales deeply and takes a step back.
They don't say another word until they reach their destination.
Bea holds the door open and waits for Allie to enter first.
They walked for nearly thirty minutes, only to arrive at the intersection of two busy streets. The 24h diner is full of white neon lights that blind the two women for a few seconds. Old-fashioned decorations are lined up on the wall, and a song from INXS is playing from the speakers. A television is replaying old tv ads from the same decades. It feels like stepping straight into the early nineties.
"Bea Smith, did you just make me travel back in time?" Allie takes in her surroundings. She might as well be fresh out of high school again, hanging out with some friends and experimenting with all that is forbidden. "This is great!"
They sit at a table and order something to drink while they analyze the menu. It's surprisingly cheap, as if the place and the prices themselves had been frozen in time, immune from inflation. They order a few items and keep more choices for later.
The peaceful atmosphere immediately calms Allie. Here, she feels like there are no expectations. There's no judgment to be found and no assumptions to be made, for this place can't be touched by the present and all its imperfections. It helps that they are the only ones around at this time. Some customers come to grab orders, but they all rush to go back to the twenty-first century, as if travelling back in time wasn't impressive enough to keep their worries away.
"How long has this been open?" Allie asks, her eyes dancing around the room. "I feel like I've walked in front of it so many times without ever noticing it."
"I don't know. I just found out about it recently too," Bea shares while they wait for their food to arrive. "I walked in one night, when I couldn't be at home. I felt like I could be safe here. I've been here many times, but I never told anyone about it."
Here, she can pretend that nothing is happening outside of this diner. She can pretend that this is the last place standing on Earth. She can pretend that the only thing left to do is to enjoy the sweetest drinks and the warmest meals.
"Shit," Allie swallows the lump in her throat when she realizes the implications of Bea's words. "You've stayed here all night before? Because you didn't want go back to your place?"
Bea nods. All night. All day. It didn't matter, as long as Harry never joined her, as long as he and his drinks and his kicks stayed in the outside world, far away from her.
It's her safe place, and she feels even safer with Allie facing her.
"Thank you for showing me this place."
"There's no need to be so formal," Bea chuckles, trying to diminish the awkwardness she feels creeping up in her body. "I just thought it'd be better than staying outside."
"I'm serious, thank you. It's a part of you. I love it," Allie insists, unaware that her words send the butterflies in Bea's stomach flying all around her body.
Allie is starting to think that she might just love all parts of Bea, but she keeps that information to herself.
Bea is starting to think that the butterflies are just going to keep multiplying, so she might as well just accept them and learn to live with them.
Both women are starting to think that they've lived in the State of Denial for too long already, but neither wants to be the first one to cross the border to another realm.
"Alright, no more talking about that," Allie suggests when she notices Bea getting lost in herself. She tilts her head just enough for Bea to find her adorable, and then she leans forward, whispering in secrecy. "You don't know him."
Bea stares back, confused. She glances around, wondering if she's missed someone walking in the diner.
"It's a time machine, remember? Here, you never met him. In fact, you met me instead and we're having our first date. Talk about an upgrade," Allie winks, gesturing to herself. "Clearly."
Bea bites the inside of her cheek, thinking that Allie has never been closer to the truth.
She wonders how different her life would have been if she'd met Allie instead of him.
She shrugs mentally. She doesn't want to think too much about it because Debbie was born out of her relationship, and as terrible as Harry was, she'll never regret giving birth the most beautiful little girl she could have ever wished for.
"We're seventeen years old, we're fearless, and unbreakable. We told our parents we were just friends, but we're liars too, obviously. But it's fine because this is our world, and we make our own rules."
Bea lights up at Allie's words, wondering just how Allie can read her mind perfectly, once again.
"I—I don't know…"
She has spent a lot of time pretending she was lost in an unreachable past, but the moment Allie joins her in this foreign land, Bea can't find a single word to say.
"I asked you out," Allie laughs, carefully building the alternate reality. "And you suggested this place, and here we are. Now all that's left to do is learn to know each other. Have a proper first date and all. So, seventeen years old Bea, what's on your mind?"
Right this moment, Bea thinks she's exhausted, and that they have a long night ahead, but that she's never been happier to spend it with the one Allie Novak.
Seventeen years old Bea would have been nervous, fumbling with her words and maybe just confident enough to look into Allie's eyes and flirt her way inside her heart.
"I'm thinking that I feel lucky to be with you," she says.
Being on a date with Allie sounds like winning the lottery when she only has a dollar left in her bank account.
"I'm the lucky one," Allie whistles when two giant glasses are brought to their table. She turns her blue eyes on Bea. "Those are the biggest milkshakes I've ever seen. You sure know where to go to win my heart."
Seventeen years old Allie would have looked at Bea the same way she does right now.
Like Bea is the one she wants to spend her life with.
It scares her, but not enough to prevent her from racing towards the finish line and hope that Bea will cross it with her.
Allie takes a sip and moans at the heavenly taste, and Bea stares, and stares, and stares until her eyes hurt and the urge to blink overcomes her. She can't stop thinking of the way it would feel to hear that sound in less innocent circumstances.
She has no idea where this thought comes from, but she can't make it go away. She tastes her own drink and wishes that the cold liquid will calm her nerves once and for all. Seventeen years old Bea wasn't into sex. She certainly isn't today either.
"What were you into, at seventeen? Before all this…" Allie gestures in the air, directing the conversation to a subject she hopes is far enough from Bea's current worries.
"I don't know," Bea frowns. "What were you into?"
"I was into you," Allie's raspy voice, laced with arousal, is barely audible. "Obviously."
Bea chokes on her drink and nearly knocks her glass over in an attempt to regain control on the situation. She clears her throat once, and then again because the first time wasn't enough.
"Don't act so surprised," Allie grins, "I did ask you out after all."
"Were you that much of a flirt when you were younger?"
"Why? Are you jealous?" Allie bites her lower lip. "You have nothing to be jealous of."
"I'm not! I had a fair amount of dates when I was young." Bea remembers that none of them had lead to successful long-term relationships, but it isn't important for Allie to know.
"Did you?"
Allie wants to smack herself in the face. Of course, Bea did. She probably looked just as spectacular as she does today. She probably had guys and girls lined up, ready to date her. She probably had to break a few hearts now and then.
Allie feels ridiculous, being jealous of all those strangers when years have passed and when it clearly couldn't matter less.
"Yeah," Bea plays with the straw in her glass. It twirls and makes a small whirlpool, and she's fascinated with the tiny bubbles that appear on the surface. "Some were terrible, but some weren't that bad."
"But I'm the best?" Allie asks cleverly, clearly enjoying this conversation. "The one that you'll remember forever even if we lose track of each other and you end up in some boring marriage? The one that won't compare to anyone else? The lost high school sweetheart? The one all the sappy romantic movies are about? The one you'll remember when death comes to get you?"
"The date isn't over yet," Bea replies, chuckling lightly at the tragedy in Allie's words. "You've got to impress me a bit more."
Allie gasps, mockingly pouting.
"You just wait."
She doesn't have much to offer, but she'll give it all to Bea in the blink of an eye. She'll jump through hoops on fires and dance on a string hanging over a cliff if that's what it takes.
"I'm kidding, Allie. Of course, you're the best," Bea smiles. "You keep me company at this time and you don't try to make fun of my weird taste in diners."
"Do you remember when making fun of someone was the way to let them know you liked them?"
"Ugh," Bea rolls her eyes. "Don't remind me. How did we ever think that would work?"
All she remembers is having a crush on a boy in elementary school. Her first crush, as far as she can remember. She'd pretended not to care, and it had worked so much that he hadn't known she existed until the very last day of school. He'd danced with another girl at a silly school event, and she remembers she'd cried in the bathroom over a boy she had barely talked to all year.
"I don't know," Allie shrugs.
She could never make fun of Bea, even if she were forced to. In the spur of the moment, she blurts out:
"I would have probably said something along the lines of… 'I can only breathe properly when you're around me. How dare you?'"
How dare you make me feel so empty every time you look away?
How dare you steal my heart in the dark of night when no one is there to warn me?
How dare you make me fall in love with you when you're not ready to catch me?
"That's a bit too much for a first date, don't you think?" Bea voices slowly, her heart aching silently in her chest.
She wonders what her reaction would have been.
To laugh at those words and to pretend they never happened? To worship them?
To swoon under Allie's stare, or to think that this is happening too fast and seek a way out?
"Well, I'm thinking you might have looked down, but you would have stayed," Allie replies.
"You're awfully confident in yourself."
"Tell me I'm wrong then. Go on."
Bea defies Allie's stare for a moment, wanting so badly to say the words, but finding herself unable to lie. She would have stayed, and they both know it. She would have stayed for the second, third, and all the future dates. There isn't a doubt about it.
They steal smiles from each other as they drink in silence for a few minutes. Bea orders a plate of hot chips to share, and Allie adds a few waffles and pastries because why not, there's no rules in this world. The second the waiter turns around, Allie calls him again to add tea to the list.
Time between midnight and the sunrise is part of a whole different universe.
"You know what's a thing I did when I was young?" Allie twirls a fuming chip between her fingers, the way someone would a cigarette. She wiggles her brows and waits for Bea to answer, an impatient smile on her lips.
"What?"
Bea jumps a meter in the air when she receives the chip right in the face, like a projectile shot out of nowhere.
"This," Allie smiles victoriously.
"Really? That's how you want to impress me?" Bea blinks.
"You should know that I threw it exactly between your eyes," Allie retorts proudly. "Not everyone can do that. That's my hidden talent."
"I am beyond impressed at your useless ability to throw food between my eyes. Did that make you popular back then?"
"Why, thanks! Years of practice," Allie winks, and Bea wraps herself in Allie's crazy world, and she never wants to leave. "It got me through a few food fights, but no dates, sadly. Until you. You were mad enough to accept my invitation and here we are!"
Bea can't fight the smile that is born on her lips. There's no denying Allie's charm.
"How did we meet?" Bea asks.
"You tell me," Allie encourages Bea to participate in this little castle of fantasy.
Bea looks in the air as if the answer would materialize before her eyes.
"You met me at the beginning of the year. I was walking to class and you were coming from the opposite way. You were so stunned by me that you walked into a locker."
"Bea!" Allie gasps, eyes glittering with joy.
"You spied on me for a full week before you gathered the courage to ask me out," she declares. "You were nervous because I had all those people at my feet, and you didn't think you could handle rejection. One day, you were sitting two tables away from me, and you threw a chip at an annoying boy who wouldn't leave me alone, and when I smiled at you, you asked me out. I said yes, because you didn't leave me enough time to think of a reason to refuse."
Allie grins so wide that her cheeks hurt, and she thinks she might look like the Cheshire cat.
"Who's awfully confident now?"
"You," Bea answers without hesitation.
Allie nods, accepting everything Bea tells her.
"Alright, no more wasting food. What was your secret talent?" Allie asks.
Bea is brought back to her room in college, to a vision she'd forgotten until now.
A room full of canvas and notebooks, and pen and pencils spread all over the floor. A room full of colors and shapes and raging imagination. A room with walls covered with sheets of paper from the floor to the ceiling.
A floor stained with paint and ink. A ceiling decorated with stars that she'd created herself.
A book full of drawings and sketches and random ideas. A book full of precious memories, of immortal times and of infinite love.
A hundred words in a single line. A thousand dreams in a single curve. A million wishes in a single color.
"I drew," Bea's eyes flash with a mix of joy and sorrow when she remembers the fate of her late drawing notebook. "I could draw for hours and never get tired of it. People, landscapes, animals, objects, they were all fascinating."
It feels like a decade since she's held a pen and sat to create peacefully. She longs for those times when all she had was a darkened room and a mountain of papers to fill with exquisite drawings.
Years ago, she'd owned a blank canvas, and she'd worried about pressing her pen too hard on it.
Weeks ago, she'd stared at her skin, and she'd worried about pressing her knife too deep in it.
She wishes some things had never changed.
"I loved it," Bea dismisses the thought by shaking her head slowly. "I love drawing. I couldn't afford a camera, so it was my way of keeping time still. We all have to be creative sometimes."
Allie's eyes shine like prized sapphires at the confession.
"That sounds amazing," she declares in awe. "I couldn't draw a figure stick for my life. What was your favorite thing to draw?"
"My lovers, duh," she says as Allie's mouth forms a perfect 'O'. "They would all line up in the hopes of being chosen for one of my canvas. So many of them…"
Bea whistles as she pulls her glass closer to her and takes a sip. Allie's face is priceless, and Bea would, indeed, very much like to immortalize it in a drawing.
"Bit of a player, I can deal with that," Allie exhales, making tremendous efforts to control her emotions. She can only imagine the struggle to stay still while Bea's eyes would travel on her body, memorizing every line and every curve. She can only imagine the unbearable amount of sexual tension. She'd snap in half before Bea could finish anything. "Do you still do that, the drawing?"
"No, I- I stopped. It was just a waste of time."
Allie frowns, startled by Bea's words. From the way Bea spoke about it, Allie had figured it was anything but a waste of time.
"You don't mean that."
"It doesn't matter anymore."
It really doesn't.
"What happened?"
Allie doesn't need an answer. She knows, and she braces herself for the way she knows her heart will be squeezed too hard in her chest.
"Harry took my drawings. He had some rough day and he just… He said I didn't give him the attention he deserved, and he set them on fire."
"All of them?"
Bea nods, the memory still engraved in her mind and smell of the burnt paper still floating in the air around her. She'd lost so much that evening. Everything she'd worked on for years, and all because Harry had wanted her to look at him. He'd forced her to watch until every sheet had turned to ashes.
"What a stupid dick!" Allie shouts.
"I should have just given him attention," Bea replies nonchalantly.
If only she'd looked at him, this could have been prevented.
It's all her fault, really.
She hadn't bought a new drawing set ever since.
"I'm sure you gave him plenty of attention," Allie shoots back, daggers in her eyes directed at a man she doesn't know. "He just never had enough to satisfy his stupid ego."
Bea doesn't answer. It doesn't matter anymore. Her drawings are gone, but so is she, from this horrific house.
"When did you meet him?" Allie hopes she isn't going to ruin the night. She would hate herself if she did, but she wants to know. She barely knows anything about this man, about his story, about Bea's life with him.
She feels like it's something too important to ignore.
"When I was seventeen actually. Just a bit before I turned eighteen," Bea confesses, sorrows in her eyes. "He asked me out, I said yes. He was nice to me at first."
Real seventeen years old Bea had had no idea what was going to happen. She'd only accepted to go on a date with this mysterious guy who'd flirted with her at school. He had been charming as hell, and he had made her laugh with his quirky remarks.
"Our first date was at a circus. He had tickets to see this famous show everyone talked about and I just couldn't say no. He made me smile all night. I felt really good with him."
She still remembers that night. The impressive choreographies of the many artists, the mind-blowing tricks, the way the whole audience had clapped at the end of the show. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy, and the music, so loud but so catchy.
There had been no Allie to sweep her off her feet, no Allie to change her destiny, no Allie for her to fall for instead.
"Hey," Allie gently calls. "He's not here anymore."
"What about you? Where were you at seventeen?"
Allie shrugs and glances down to her pile of waffles. She stabs them with her fork and tastes them. They're delicious, but they're cold now. She tries one of the pastries she ordered. Much better. It tastes like the past never happened.
Real seventeen years old Allie had just started selling herself to strangers. She had just taken her first line of cocaine, and she had been oblivious to the fact that merely a month later, she'd be addicted to heroin.
There had been no Bea to ask out on a date, only fallen bills on the floor of a dirty motel.
"Here and there. Physically and mentally."
Bea inhales deeply and places her hand on top of Allie's.
"Not anymore. Now, you're here instead."
She's not the only one who needs this moment. She's not the only one who needs to go back in the past and fix things. She's not the only one who wishes she could tell her younger self that it'll be okay in the end, that no matter what she goes through, she'll find someone eventually. Someone who will turn her world upside-down and make her believe that her entrance into adulthood could have been different.
Allie needs it just as much. Maybe even more.
But it's not a competition, it has never been, and right now, they just exist together, in this place where the past can be written again.
"I would have asked you out if I'd met you at seventeen," Allie remarks.
"Really?"
"Why not? I had nothing to lose. And I'm sure you were… hot," Allie shushes the last word like it's a secret.
And really, it's not a secret. Allie's done anything but hide her attraction to Bea since the second she landed her eyes on the redhead.
It's increasing every second she spends with Bea.
Bea just gets her. She just knows the right things to say to ease Allie's pain. She sees her. It's insane, and it scares her, but she would rather perish than walk away.
"I bet you were good looking too…"
Bea pauses dramatically, peaking in direction of the window when she notices the sun rising in the far horizon.
"Too bad you've lost it."
Allie stands up so fast that she knocks an empty plate down. It shatters on the floor, but the shocked smile she has printed on her face doesn't falter.
"Bea Smith, take back those words! You were staring at me just hours ago! Like, really staring at me!" Allie nearly cries in the diner, an accusing finger pointed at the other woman. "Unless you want me to throw a waffle at you!"
"You wouldn't dare…"
Allie smirks and quickly cuts a piece of waffle before throwing it at Bea, whose laugh rings louder than any other sound.
"You missed."
"I missed on purpose. Unless you want to have syrup all over your hair?"
Bea plays with her curls for a second.
"Would I still be hot if I were bald? Be honest."
Allie bites her lips to prevent the laughs from escaping her mouth. She looks up, wondering just how in the world she's managed to find someone like Bea Smith. And really, it doesn't matter how, or what, or why. All that matters is that she's never felt better.
"I have an idea!" Allie walks to the counter and grabs a fistful of white napkins. She drops them in front of Bea and magically pulls a pencil out of her pocket. "Would you like to draw me something?"
The air turns cold and the bubble they are trapped in suddenly explodes.
Bea's jaw stiffens suddenly and sweat makes her shiver underneath her shirt. She looks at the napkins like they're going to jump off the table and attack her at any moment. She looks at them like they're going to set themselves on fire and burn the entire place down within minutes. A feeling of terror sneaks inside her belly and she's unable to move, unable to react, unable to look at Allie's hopeful eyes.
It feels like she's forgotten how to write, how to draw, how to hold a pencil.
All she can think about are the flames, the yellow, angry flames eating her art alive. Destroying everything.
She hates that she still hasn't gained back control on all aspects of her life. She hates that he still owns parts of her.
"Or not, you don't have to."
Allie's voice is like a vessel from outer space coming to rescue her.
"I'm- I'm sorry, I can't." Bea stutters. "I wouldn't know what to draw or how to do it."
"It's fine, no worries," Allie repeats, soft eyes easing Bea back to this timeless dinner. "I got a bit excited here, but really, you don't have to."
Like she wants to prove her point, Allie turns the napkins around to her direction, and starts doodling on them, creating the cutest stick figures Bea has ever seen. Allie concentrates on the drawing like she's a great painter from the Renaissance era, and Bea breathes a little easier.
Allie takes more time than she usually would, noticing the calming effect her actions have on Bea. She'd never wanted to trigger Bea, and she's willing to fix this to the best of her capacity. She's Allie freaking Novak and she won't leave this place until Bea feels better again, until their first fictional date is a success.
Their first fake date that awfully feels like a real one.
She really fucking wishes it could be a real one.
"So, obviously, I have the longest hair, since you're bald," she explains. She smiles absently, adding a few lines to illustrate her blonde hair. Bea's figure remains hairless. "And there's chips on the floor and waffles stuck on the wall because I suck at throwing them in your direction apparently. There's a few empty glasses on the table. There's a broken plate on the floor because whoever works here isn't doing their job fast enough. Understandable, considering the time, but still."
She draws all the little details meticulously, adding a few elements from the diner too, and soon enough, Bea is staring at a childish replica of their night.
"So, there's only one thing missing," Allie looks up for a second before she drags the pen on the napkin again, writing a few words in an elegant way.
Memories of our first date.
"It doesn't look perfect, but still," Allie chuckles, handling the drawing to Bea. "Do you want to keep it? Or should I say, does seventeen years old Bea want to keep it?"
Seventeen years old.
She's giving Bea an escape.
If Bea takes it as her seventeen years old self, then the whole night will belong to the past.
It will be a fantasy, a dream that they've stumbled onto for tonight. It will be a scene from a movie that was never released. It will be a song that was never recorded. It will be a book that was never written. It will be an alternate reality in which they never belonged. It will be a distant story that weren't theirs to begin with.
It won't have to mean anything in the present.
But if Bea breaks the spell, if Bea takes it as her present self, it could be more.
It could be their first date, the one they should have had years ago, but only just had now.
It could be a chance to change history, so they can have their happy ending.
Bea stills, eyes glued to the drawing. It's perfect in its own way.
"The best first date?" she whispers to herself.
The best first date, away from the world's prying eyes. Just like Allie had promised her.
"Do you want it to be?" Allie looks at her like she might shatter in a million pieces, no matter what the answer is.
It's not Bea's voice that breaks her.
It's Bea's brutally loud ringtone. It makes Allie flinch so hard that she hits her knee against the table and winces in pain. She kicks the shock away quickly when she notices the sudden paleness of Bea's skin.
"It's Debbie," Bea frowns.
It's always been Bea calling Debbie, never the opposite.
Maxine throws up the contents of her empty stomach, once again. The acidic taste is all it takes for her to vomit a second time and she curses chemo, and cancer, and her ill body. She clutches the toilet like it's her only anchor in this stormy night. She closes her eyes and tries desperately to control the nausea, and it's the hardest thing to do. The waves of sickness crashes into her and she hopes that the low tide isn't too far away.
Some nights are worse than others, but recently, they've all been pretty fucking horrible.
The cancer isn't just in her breasts anymore. It's invading her mind too. It's that thing she can't get out of her head no matter how hard she tries to distract herself. It's that ghost that haunts her dream and makes her nightmare a thousand times worse. It's that shadow that follows her everywhere and forces her to do things she doesn't want to do. It's that thief that comes to take away everything she has and everything she is.
That heartless, cruel, tyrannous thief.
A thief that refuses to leave her no matter how many bullets she fires at them.
There's a knock on the door and she's too sick to answer. If she opens her mouth, she might as well give up the war and throw up her guts again, so she remains immobile, lips turning white from how hard she presses them together. She can't get up. She can only hope that whoever it is will leave her alone. This bathroom is her new kingdom. She rules it with a weakened body and a tired soul, but she still governs.
The kingdom of a fallen goddess.
"Hey Maxie, you alright?" Boomer's voice peeks from the other side.
Usually, Maxine would be delighted to hear her friend's voice, but not tonight. She's spared Boomer from seeing her like this for as long as she can and it'd be a shame to ruin it all now.
"I'm coming in, yeah?" Boomer pushes the door open and Maxine groans when she realizes she's been in such a hurry to hug the toilet that she forgot to lock it.
"I'm alright, love," Maxine smiles gently, the hurt flashing in her eyes in-between her signature softness.
"Nah, you're not," Boomer frowns. "I'm not blind."
"Well, there's nothing you can do here, go back to sleep," Maxine argues, her head back down. Her eyes fixate on the water in the toilet. Every time a drop of saliva falls through it, it breaks the stillness of the surface. It hypnotizes her and gives her something to focus on. "I'm almost done."
Boomer stares worryingly at how thin Maxine has become. It's scary to think that beneath those clothes, there's probably just skin and bones. It's scary to think about all the chemicals Maxine now has in her veins, spoiling the healthy blood.
She remembers the first time she'd met Maxine. She'd been a bitch to her. She'd called her names and insulted her. She hadn't taken her seriously. She'd refused to see the woman standing in front of her.
And then Maxine had defended her against some of the other women in the house, and Boomer had felt guilty for weeks.
"You need to wake me up when that happens," Boomer raises her voice. "Now that Franky's gone, I can help you."
"Please, Booms, the only thing I need right now is silence and a good night of sleep. I'll still be with you in the morning, we can talk then," Maxine replies, as nicely as she can.
She doesn't want to hurt Boomer's feelings, but her head is killing her, and if she hears anything more, she might bite harder than she means to.
It breaks her heart to tell Boomer to go away.
"But- I'm awake," Boomer pleads, a confused smile on her face, unable to understand Maxine's rejection. "I can do things. I'm not leaving you and you're not… you're not leaving me."
Suddenly, she feels useless and alone, just like she did before she came to the shelter. She wants to help so badly, because if she doesn't help, if Maxine dies, she won't survive. She won't forgive herself. She won't move on, ever, from this moment where she could have been there.
"Booms, tomorrow," Maxine repeats, stronger this time, her voice steady and commanding.
She looks up from the toilet, only for her eyes to be met with Boomer's figure rushing outside the bathroom, slamming the door.
Finally, she thinks. It's better when she's alone, when she can wince from the pain without having to restrain herself. She sighs loudly and ignores the sweat rolling all around her face. She can tolerate her body betraying itself, and she can take the pain, but she can't bear the thought of having to put her loved ones through the same ache.
She leaves the bathroom a full hour later, feeling ashamed from pushing Boomer away because, really, they've both found an unexpected friendship here, and Boomer is brave enough to stay by her side in this unfair battle.
She walks in her room and stills. She tears up at the sight and even the darkness can't hide the way she shakes her head in disbelief. Of course. She should have known.
Boomer's mattress is here on the floor, as are her pillow and covers. Boomer is sitting on it, fiddling with her hands. She looks up when Maxine enters and sends a small, hesitant smile in her direction.
"I asked if I could stay here tonight," she says, daring Maxine to kick her out. "I don't know what's up Vera's ass, but she agreed. Said something about helping others when they need us. Who cares anyway, she said it's fine."
Maxine sits on her bed and directs her gaze to Boomer. She's exhausted, but she's happy. She's actually happy, even though she feels like gravity is pulling her apart.
"If you kick me out," Boomer states convincingly, "I'll call Franky, and then she'll kick you out! So don't try, alright?"
"And then we'll both be homeless?" Maxine asks slowly. "That's your plan?"
"We'll be together at least!"
Maxine can't argue with that and takes Boomer's hand in hers. She gives it a hard squeeze and nods, a newfound fire in her eyes.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you, love."
Maxine shrugs and smiles like it's all forgiven. She knows it isn't Maxine's fault. They both never asked to be in this situation.
They lie down, but they don't let go of each other. Maxine coughs and clears her throat, the pain in her chest growing exponentially, and Boomer, forever alert, jumps next to her and offers her water from a bottle she stole from the kitchen.
"You're gonna be alright, eh?" Boomer's shaking voice asks.
Maxine doesn't answer. She can't.
They hold each other's hand silently until sleep pities them and takes the pain away from them.
When they wake up, eyes confused and lost in time and space, Maxine knows she can't hide the truth anymore.
"I need to tell you something."
"Why is she back earlier?" Allie asks when the taxi reaches the airport. "Did she tell you?"
"Do I look like I know the reason?" Bea frantically throws money at the driver before she exits the car and almost gets run over by another one. "Get out of my face before I hurt ya!" she yells at the unknown car.
"Woah, slow down there!" Allie grabs Bea's arm, leading her inside the airport and towards the arrivals gate. "You'll get yourself killed before you reach Debbie."
"Don't tell me what to do! Why are you even here, I never asked you to come with me!"
Allie chuckles, surprised to hear such words coming from Bea. She stops, forcing Bea to stand before her and look her in the eyes. She places her hands on top of Bea's shoulders and her thumbs gently stroke the other woman.
"I get that you're nervous, I really do, okay? But if you don't relax right now, your daughter's gonna run away from you because you sound like you're about to murder someone."
Bea is a bomb about to go off. She melts in Allie's subtle touch.
"You're right, sorry," she admits. "I'm glad you're here. I appreciate it."
She's sleep deprived, her mind still clouded with the way this whole night turned out, and a ginormous amount of adrenaline is being pumped through her body. She's on high alert after her daughter called her to let her know she's landed back in Australia. Debbie wasn't supposed to be here yet.
Not only is Bea not ready to welcome her again, she's also extremely worried for her.
It's not like Debbie to cancel plans or change them, especially not without consulting her mother first. And flying from one continent to another before schedule is a big decision, especially knowing that Debbie had already bought her plane tickets for next week.
"Alright, now let's go, she's waiting!" Allie smiles widely, encouraging Bea to follow her when she starts running.
Bea quickly races to the arrivals gate, passing by Allie and taking her hand on the way. She's dragging a breathless Allie behind her, avoiding obstacles and dodging unfortunate strangers that happen to be on her way. Thankfully, it's so early that the place isn't crowded, and Bea can save herself from a few unwelcomed collisions. She abruptly turns one last corner before her eyes finds her daughter's silhouette, standing nervously a few meters away, a suitcase behind her.
"Debbie!" she gasps, unable to believe that her daughter is standing in front of her, alive and well.
She reaches her daughter hastily and pulls her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head and burying her face in Debbie's hair. She holds her like this for a long time, trying not to cry when Debbie reciprocates the embrace. She whispers sweet words in Debbie's ear, small promises that she wishes she'd said before, when they last said goodbye to each other.
Time stands still as they reacquaint with each other again.
Allie stares lovingly at the pair, keeping her distance even when Bea tears herself apart from Debbie's clinging arms to look at her with bright, wet eyes.
"Let me look at you… did you grow up?" Bea shakes her head in disbelief, a proud smile on her face. She lets her hands travel up and down Debbie's arms, like she's afraid her daughter might disappear if she stops touching her.
"Mom, I stopped growing up like, three years ago," Debbie grins. "I wasn't gone for that long."
"Oh, it certainly felt like it," Bea confesses. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? You weren't supposed to be back until next week, for your vacations."
She scans Debbie's features, every inch of skin she can find, but she finds nothing wrong.
"I know," Debbie passes a hand in her hair, "I'm good, I just changed my mind. I'll tell you all about it later? I've been here for hours and I really just want a hot shower."
"Of course," Bea smiles, panic in her mind when she realizes she might not be able to bring Debbie to the shelter so soon.
She takes a deep breath. She can think about it later, when they're not standing in this foreign environment. She waves for Allie to come closer, and when Allie gestures a quick hello at Debbie, Bea introduces them.
"This is Allie. She was with me when you called and offered to keep me company. I was a bit nervous to come here alone."
Nervous is a huge understatement, but Allie is kind enough not to point it out.
"She was with you?" Debbie asks amusedly, her eyes sliding from her mother to the blonde woman. "At five in the morning? What were you doing?"
Allie grins and gently elbows Bea's side.
"You were right, she is smart," Allie glows.
Bea shakes her head and pretends she can't hear a word, but a pink shade appears on her cheeks and betrays her.
"Nice to meet you," Debbie nods in Allie's direction.
Allie smiles down at her, the story of the snails' hotel playing in the back of her mind. The resemblance between Bea and Debbie strikes her even more now that they are both standing before her.
The group starts walking in the direction of the exit, Bea and Debbie leading the way while Allie is comfortable following them from behind.
Allie listens absently to the various questions Bea throws at Debbie, but she doesn't pay enough attention to hear the answers. In fact, she doesn't really want to spy on them. She forces herself to look around, to focus on foreign sounds and to direct her attention towards anything, but them.
Until she hears something.
It's small, so subtle that Allie thinks she's having an hallucination at first, but it's there.
Debbie's voice shakes and speeds up when she speaks. The tone of her voice spikes and falls in the same sentence, as if her euphoric feelings could not be controlled.
Allie blames it on Debbie's excitement to reunite with her mother.
Until she hears it again, and again, and then she blames it on Debbie's lack of sleep and on jet lag.
But then, she notices the way the words make perfect sense when they come out of Debbie's mouth. They made perfect sense, but they are wrapped in a blurred pronunciation and a broken elocution.
She tells herself that it's impossible, so she pays attention to the way Debbie walks.
Debbie walks in a perfectly normal way, but Allie's eyes find the small tremors that jolt through Debbie's feet every two steps.
She knows everything there is to know about the thin line between what is considered normal behavior and erratic behavior caused by drugs. She used to practice, in front of a mirror, how to act as normal as she could when she was under the influence of narcotics. She knows what signs to look for when someone is trying to pass as sober.
She knows what to focus on, so she searches for more signs.
She freezes when she finds them.
The way Debbie's eyes move restlessly from her mom, to the ceiling, to the ground, to every other corner of the hall.
The way Debbie's hands shake almost invisibly by her side when she walks.
The way Debbie seems to be hyperalert of her surroundings, reacting every time someone walks a little too close to her or every time a new message resonates through the speakers.
It might be invisible to Bea, but Allie freezes.
Fuck.
Vera is watching a video about the subtleties of arranged and forced marriages when she hears a door slams loudly.
She glances at the time. It's too early for anyone to be awake.
She gets up and stares at the hallway for few seconds.
It's completely empty.
She thinks she hears someone crying in Boomer's room.
Do you guys remember the storyline with Debbie in S1? I'm not saying it will happen again... but being inspired from it was inevitable.