Chapter's title comes from "South" by Sleeping at Last.
This chapter was a pain to write and hopefully, it won't be a pain to read...
Chapter 8: Some truths we wish we could hide
The events of the night are quickly forgotten once they leave the airport. There's no more time machine and no more games about being young and reckless and possibly in love. There's no more whispered secrets and unseen touches. There's no more fake first date that feels a little too real. Instead, there's only this flawed reality, and the sudden, unexpected return of Debbie in her mother's arms.
The trio parts ways when the taxi leaves them in the quiet street facing Wentworth. Bea heads back to the shelter, her mind set on trying to convince whoever she meets first that they let her daughter stay with her for the week. She takes Debbie's luggage with her and asks her daughter to be patient.
Debbie claims that she'll stop by to surprise her friends before she comes back to Wentworth, so Bea has time to talk with someone.
Allie simply goes her own way, promising Bea to meet her later when all will be settled. She looks into Bea's eyes for too long, somehow trying to keep the night alive and to offer her a proper goodbye. She waits until Bea turns around and starts climbing the stairs to the door to blow her an imaginary kiss because really, that is all that is missing to complete the perfect date.
She doesn't mention her suspicions. It's too early for that, and she is certain that Bea would never listen to her. In fact, she's pretty sure Bea would laugh in her face and call her delusional.
She waits until Bea is safe inside the shelter before she rushes in the direction Debbie has taken. She doesn't see Debbie anywhere, and her plan to spy on the younger woman suddenly doesn't seem much possible. She frowns and takes a chance by heading toward an animated street.
She mentally congratulates herself when she sees Debbie's silhouette walking a few meters away from her. She rushes to catch up and stops herself just in time, so she doesn't get too close to the younger woman. If she gets caught, she has a feeling she'll be in a shitload of trouble with both Debbie and her mother.
Frankly, she isn't sure what she's doing. She might be making a mistake. She might be worried for Debbie for no valid reason. After all, she's only just met Debbie, and her first instinct isn't infallible. She might be running to her death too, since she has no idea where the hell she's going. Still, she can't help but see herself in Debbie.
A child with a brilliant potential that's being wasted on drugs.
She doesn't know Debbie's full story, and maybe she never will, but with the things she knows, she wants to make sure Debbie is truly going to see her friends.
And maybe she's crossing a line. Maybe she's crossing many lines, but she figures it's too late to go back anyway.
She walks faster when she notices Debbie's speed increasing as well. She races when she accidently finds herself in the middle of the street on a red light, having been distracted by her surroundings. She awkwardly hides behind a wall when she sees Debbie's head turning around. She waits forever and when she finally comes out, Debbie's gone.
She almost stops following Debbie, thinking that Bea would murder her if she knew. She doesn't want Bea to hate her, to stop caring about her.
Debbie takes a bus, and Allie struggles to hide herself in the nearly empty vehicle, but when she finally gets off, a stop later than Debbie's, she thinks she's nailed it.
She finds herself walking in a calm neighborhood, where every house has a white picket fence and a huge porch that goes around its structure. The greenest lawns welcome her, and despite the huge trees reaching for the sky as they guard the houses from privy eyes, Allie distinguishes the familiar shape of a pool in many backyards.
It doesn't take Allie a long time to figure out that this is a level of wealth she can only dream to have one day. She doesn't feel comfortable walking in this place, with her hoodie and the obvious shadows under her eyes.
She doesn't just look like she's from a different world, she really doesn't belong here. At all.
The biggest problem these people probably have is to decide whether to go to a fancy restaurant or an even fancier one, while she must decide whether she can afford to spend two dollars on junk food.
"Allie, right?"
Debbie's accusing voice startles Allie so much that the blonde almost falls to the ground.
"Are you done following me?"
"I was – "
"Don't tell me you weren't," Debbie replies sharply. "You obviously were and you were bad at it too. I saw you long before I stopped you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt."
Debbie's eyes are burning with a fire that reminds Allie of Bea's. Allie thinks that if Debbie is anything like her mother, then she better tells the truth and nothing but the truth. She might be taller than Bea's daughter, but right now she feels like she's a child being scolded by Debbie, the severe school principal.
Allie feels pride washing over her. Bea did great with that kid.
"Fine, I was," Allie confesses, "but I was just curious about where you were going."
"You were there when I told mom I was going to a friend's, weren't you?" Debbie frowns, openly judging Allie's figure.
"And I just wanted to make sure you really were going there," Allie challenges, refusing to let herself be intimidated.
She doesn't add that she wanted to make sure Debbie wasn't heading to a crack house. She doesn't add that she wanted to make sure Debbie wouldn't be found with a needle in her arm a few hours later. She doesn't add that she wants so badly to be wrong, but the longer she looks at her, the more convinced she is that Debbie's taken something.
Some signs just can't be ignored.
Debbie debates what to answer, but Allie beats her.
"I don't want to cause trouble you with your mother, if that's what you're worried about."
Debbie stares for a long time before she decides to answer.
"How much do you know about mom?"
She isn't about to let any secret out. She'll keep them until she's six feet under. But she's still smart enough to notice the bond shared between her mother and Allie. She'd have to be blind not to. Plus, Allie obviously knows about the shelter.
"Enough to be worried about her safety. And yours," Allie adds with the most serious voice she has.
Debbie shrugs. She doesn't need someone to worry about her, she's been doing just fine on her own.
"Don't judge me," she admits regardless, knowing she won't get rid of Allie unless she tells the truth, "I'm going to see my dad."
She starts to take a few steps without waiting for an answer.
Allie's eyes widen in panic, and she runs to Debbie.
"Are you insane?!" Allie gasps, grabbing Debbie's arm with more force than she means to. "After what he's done to your mom?" She glances around, making sure no one is listening. "The first place you go when you come back here is your dad's? Why would you do that?"
"Exactly for that!" Debbie claims defensively before she lowers her tone. "Because I need answers. Look at where my mom is. Now, look around you, where my dad is. It isn't fair that he gets to keep everything after he stole my mom's life."
"So you're doing this just to ask him questions?" Allie asks, a bit relieved.
"I want to know if he can be fair to mom… and I missed him."
Allie's jaw drops to the floor and Debbie pulls back harshly, a flash of anger in her eyes. She shakes her head in disappointment. She should have known she couldn't trust anyone. So many thoughts are running through her exhausted mind. She's jetlagged, she can't think properly, and she's still digesting the news that her life is being ripped apart by her mom's recent decisions.
"You're just like him, aren't you? Using force to get what you want?"
Allie scoffs, completely taken aback by the ridiculous suggestion.
"No, I'm not," she says, trying to gain back a bit of control on a situation that keeps getting worse. It's a disaster she couldn't predict. "I'd never use violence for anything."
She thinks of all the people she hurt during her times with the Red Right Hand and suddenly, she's livid, remembering the blood she spilled just for revenge.
It isn't the same, she thinks. It really isn't. She would never hit someone innocent.
"You just grabbed my arm," Debbie states blankly. "Hard."
She remembers when her father used to grab her mother's arm. He would send her flying into the nearest wall and then laugh.
"I'm sorry," Allie apologizes quickly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Funny, that's what my dad said all the time before he stopped pretending he cared about mom."
"I'm not your dad," Allie protests defensively.
"Then who are you? What do you want with mom?"
"I'm Allie Novak," Allie properly introduces herself. "I met your mom when she'd just arrived at Wentworth. She's helped me a lot and I owe her my life."
"And now you want to be paid for that?" Debbie asks skeptically.
"No!" Allie shakes her head like the idea disgusts her. "I care about your mom. I – I want what's best for her."
"I don't trust you," Debbie replies detachedly.
Behind her hard words and cold accusations, there's a little girl who wants nothing more than to protect her mother.
Debbie won't let someone else hurt her mother. It's been hard enough to watch her parents through the years, she won't let it happen again.
She was three years old when she'd first noticed something was wrong between her parents. She was five years old when she'd realized she wasn't strong enough to stop the violence. She was seven years old when she'd tried to say something. Her father had just denied all claims to the police while her mother, with obvious fear in her eyes, had laughed it off and pretended it was just a small fight. She was twelve years old when her mother had told her to keep her mouth shut.
This time, she's ready to fight, she's ready to bleed, and she's ready to lose herself, just to help her mother survive.
"It's fine if you don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either. But right now, you're high, and you think you're invincible. Well, you're not," Allie advices, ignoring the way Debbie's words pierce her heart. "I'm not the enemy here."
"You can't stop me," Debbie replies. "Dad never hit me. Did mom tell you that? He never hit me. I think I'll be fine."
She doesn't deny the fact that she's high and feels like she's invincible. She walks away decidedly, but Allie joins her quickly.
"I want you to be safe, and I want the same for Bea. We don't know each other, it's true, but I know what it's like to…"
Be desperate for justice.
Want an escape.
Feel hopeless.
Care in a world that doesn't.
The end of the sentence disappears into emptiness, and Debbie's eyes dare Allie to finish it.
"I miss dad," Debbie suddenly says, tears appearing in her eyes. "And I miss mom. And I wish I could make all of it stop so we can be a family again."
She wishes she could start her whole life again, without the ghost of violence constantly hovering over her head. She wishes she could have saved her mother earlier, even when she was tiny and a simple slap from her father could have given her a concussion. She wishes she could have been brave enough to speak up against her father when her mother couldn't, but he always had the last word.
"I just want to see if he's alive," she murmurs. "He hasn't contacted me since I left."
She wishes the version of her father that she loves could be the only version to exist.
"What did you take?" Allie asks softly, trying to see through Debbie's armor. "I can help you."
Debbie seems to hesitate. She looks around, judging whether to admit that she's crossed too many lines while away from home.
"How can you help me?" she frowns. "I don't even know you."
"I know that you took something. I haven't told your mom. I told you, I don't want you to be in trouble, I just want to help."
Debbie frowns.
"You're an addict?"
"Not anymore," Allie admits.
Debbie decides not to say a word.
"It doesn't matter what I took. If you care about mom, if you really do, you won't tell her where I am," Debbie replies detachedly. "You know why."
When she walks away this time, Allie doesn't stop her.
Her conversation with Debbie plays into her ears a long time afterwards.
When she finally leaves, she fights not to give in to the urge to curl in a ball and stop moving. Everything went wrong, and Debbie planted a seed of doubt in her mind. What if she isn't enough for Bea? She curses in her head.
She thinks that if this is where Bea has lived before, then she truly has nothing better to offer her. It doesn't matter how hard she tries, she'll never give Bea the life she deserves. She'll never give her this perfect house in a perfect neighborhood with a perfect pool in the backyard.
And Debbie is painfully right.
If Bea learns that this is her daughter's true destination, she'll come back here in a second, she'll come back to her abuser, and Allie would never be able to stop her.
She can't say a word.
"Allie's got the hots for you."
Bea looks up to meet the sight of Maxine smiling down at her.
She's waiting for Will Jackson to finish his meeting to speak to him about Debbie's sudden arrival.
She shakes her head negatively as Maxine takes a seat next to her. The couch bends under their weight and Bea sinks in the comfort of the leather. She places the book she was reading aside and faces Maxine, their last conversation still echoing in the back of her mind. Is it just her or does Maxine seem more and more exhausted with each passing day?
The house is quiet. Everyone else is either in their room or outside while the employees are having their weekly meeting. Bea wonders whether they're deciding on her fate right now, or someone else's. She doesn't know much about the meetings, just that the files are discussed and that the next steps are planned accordingly. She wonders what they'll say about Harry wanting to meet her.
"She does," Maxine teases with her eyes sparkling. "Have you seen the way she looks at you? I thought she was going to ask you to marry her on the beach."
Bea studies her suddenly fascinating hands. No way. It wasn't that obvious. Allie likes her, she knows that, but it's not like that. It can't be, especially not in a 'will you marry me' way.
Allie likes her, that's all, and that simple fact is electrifying enough.
"She's cute," Maxine continues, nudging Bea's side, trying to elicit any reaction at all from her friend.
Cute is an understatement, Bea thinks to herself. Allie is the sun that illuminates everything around her, and Bea has been living in a black and white world for way too long. Allie is the paint and the brushes and the canvas, and she walks around like she's a masterpiece that Bea can only admire day and night.
"Seems like Allie isn't the only one having a crush."
"I don't have a crush," Bea scoffs like the idea is outrageous.
Crushes are for twelve years old. She's a full-grown woman for God's sake. Crushes are not for her and they never were in the first place.
She feels the butterflies rebel in her stomach once again and she wonders what she has done in a previous life to deserve feeling like a constant lovesick mess these days.
She wants it to stop.
She wants it to last forever.
"She speaks," Maxine laughs. "Only to lie. I know you, Bea Smith, you both like each other."
"I'm not lying," Bea protests.
Maxine gives her a judgemental look and Bea rolls her eyes.
She isn't lying, she's just downplaying reality a little bit. Plus, if she had to describe what she feels for Allie, she certainly wouldn't use the word crush because Allie is so much more than that.
Crush feels like an insult more than anything else.
"I don't know. We've never talked about it."
"You have eyes, don't you? You don't need to talk about it," Maxine replies.
"She's my friend."
"Do all your friends act like she does?" Maxine asks, knowing fully the answer to her question.
It flashes in Bea's head, a big NO in neon lights.
None of her friends does. No one she's ever known does.
Allie shows up everyday just to talk to her. She acts like every encounter they have is a blessing. She listens and cares, and never betrays Bea's fragile trust. She brings her smile and her joy, and her quirky remarks that Bea cannot live without anymore.
Allie treats her like she's special, like she's worth everything. She treats her like everyone should bow down to Queen Bea and worship her until their last breath. She treats her like she's human and real, and still beautiful despite her flaws, and like she never ever wants to look away from her.
Allie makes the mornings magical and ethereal.
Allie creates a first date out of nowhere and it's everything Bea has ever wanted it to be.
Allie makes Bea want to kiss her until she's fighting for air.
"I've only being with men before," Bea whispers, half to herself.
"It doesn't mean you have to be with men for the rest of your life," Maxine chuckles quietly. "I was born a man and it wasn't me."
"I know," Bea exhales loudly. "I just can't imagine being with a woman."
She knows it shouldn't matter, that she's free to be attracted to whomever she wants, but the need to label herself, to label her feelings, is stronger than her. She curses how society's ways control her. She can't accept the possibility that she doesn't belong without a label. Living with a label attached to her head feels safer and easier, and more socially acceptable, even if it is only a prison in disguised.
But a label isn't a simple tag braided in her hair.
It's a hangman's knot around her neck, and it's getting harder to breathe by the minute.
What difference should it make that she's attracted to a woman this time? She can't control it. She can't just shut down her feelings. She can't ignore them and pretend like they never existed. She can't go to sleep at night and suddenly wake up differently.
"I'm not gay," Bea repeats the words she said a lifetime ago.
For some reason, she doesn't believe in them anymore, and her voice trembles, lacks confidence. Her thoughts are blurred together, dominated by the unique need to taste Allie's lips. It's all she's been thinking about recently. Allie's lips. Allie's eyes. Allie's voice. Allie's laughs. Allie's skin against her own.
She's addicted to the way Allie makes her feel, but it doesn't lessen her inner panic.
What is she? Who is she? What does she want? She's losing sense of her identity in this war against her feelings. Nothing makes sense and she feels like she has no valid reason to fight.
She shouldn't be fighting so hard just to give herself the right to fall in love.
"There's something people always forget," Maxine gently offers. "They focus so much on who to love and what gender they are attracted to, that they forget to love the most important person. They forget to love themselves."
Bea hasn't loved herself ever since Harry tumbled into her life and murdered everything good.
"If you just love yourself first, the rest will follow," Maxine continues.
"That's a very embellished way of seeing things."
"If you love yourself, then everyone else's judgement means nothing."
"I doubt it," Bea dismisses. "So what, I just love myself and the rest of the world stops harassing me? I just love myself and suddenly, Harry's not here anymore? Is that how it works?"
Her last words come out like razor blades, slicing her posed behavior away.
"He wants to meet me," she confesses, feeling like a rock is replacing her heart every time she thinks about it. "It's not to tell me to love myself and move on. He wants something. I don't know what, but I can't put Allie in danger by letting myself be blinded by whatever this is."
"This is about Allie and you, not Harry."
"I can't just think about Allie and I."
She can't risk everything by being selfish and following her feelings. It would put Allie's life in danger, and she would hate herself even more.
"I think Allie's smart enough to decide what she wants," Maxine argues.
"She doesn't know Harry. I've never told her what he's capable of."
"Then maybe you should."
"No."
"Why not?"
"She doesn't need to know because he'll never get to her, I'll make sure of that!" Bea replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
He will never touch her. She'll lose her life trying to protect Allie if that's what it takes.
Maxine smiles victoriously.
"Not a crush, eh?"
Bea looks at her like she wants to murder her, but she doesn't say anything. Her mouth forms a thin line as she concedes her defeat.
"I care about Allie. Is that what you want me to say? I do. I like her, and it's- it's probably more than just a crush. But we never talked about that. I don't know what she thinks about me."
The more she talks, the more lies she spreads.
"Oh, she likes you. You're just both too stubborn to see it. But, love, you go for it. She cares just as much about you," Maxine says as gently as she can, knowing Bea is a bird about to fly away anytime now.
"I don't know if I'm ready for that."
Maxine's right. It isn't a question of whether they have feelings or not anymore. It's a question of when they'll finally admit it to each other and when they'll act on it.
It's a question of when they'll stop hiding behind fake dates and vague statements that are open to interpretation.
"What if you are ready?" Maxine nudges her side.
Bea shifts uncomfortably.
"What if I'm ready to tell her, but I'm not ready for the answer?" she murmurs.
Maxine smiles mystically.
"I don't think you should be worried about that," she grins. "You'll get the answer you want."
Bea shrugs embarrassedly.
"I'm going to have the operation," Maxine declares, changing the subject now that she's gotten the information out of Bea's mouth.
"What made you decide?" Bea asks curiously, her posture stiffening.
The thought of Boomer being left behind hits Maxine's heart continuously.
"I want to live," Maxine responds with the saddest voice. "I just want to be alive."
She just wants to live for as long as she can because she's not done here. Her story isn't over. Her life won't be stolen by cancer, she won't allow it. She has so much to do and so many people to care for, and she isn't ready to say farewell.
Bea leans her head on Maxine's shoulder.
"We all do," she whispers. "How did Boomer take it?"
"She thinks I'm leaving her. I tried to tell her that I would be back, that it's good for me, but you know her, she needs time. At least, she listened to everything I said."
Boomer had run away from Maxine's room and had yet to reappear.
"Have you told Franky?"
Maxine shakes her head. It's something she wants to do in person, not by phone. It isn't the kind of news that she can just spit out and forget about. She needs to feel the words come out of her throat, feel how hard it is to pronounce them.
She needed to see the devastation across Boomer's face.
And she'll need to remember how excruciating it will be for Franky too.
Those are the memories she'll carry with her when she needs a reminder of what she's fighting for. She'll fight so she won't ever have to hurt her friends again. She'll fight just to be able to see the people she loves smile again.
"Do you need anything? Anything at all?" Bea asks, slightly afraid to know the answer.
"No, love. I just needed you to admit the truth before it's too late," Maxine winks.
Bea groans and looks at the ceiling.
"I want you to promise me that you'll go for it. With Allie? Go for it."
Bea frowns. No way. She can't just go on with her life when Maxine's fate remains unknown. She can't just pretend like Maxine hasn't dropped a bomb on her and the air isn't toxic to breathe.
"Hey. No thinking about death here," Maxine pokes her cheek like she would a small child. "We only keep our eyes on the positive outcome."
She's begging Bea because she needs someone else to believe with her. She can't have her mind attacked by tragedy when she's so close to healing. She needs to focus on something positive, on something beautiful, and what is more beautiful than her friend learning to love again? What is more beautiful than her friend learning to trust again?
"Promise me?" she repeats with her eyes focused on Bea's. "Next time you see Allie, you'll tell her?"
It takes a few seconds for Bea to answer. Mentally, it feels like she spends a decade trying to figure out if it is a promise she can keep.
"I promise."
When Will Jackson walks into his meeting with Bea, he doesn't expect her to be holding a pile of papers with the most serious look on her face. He doesn't expect her to motion for him to sit on the opposite side of the table, like she's the one working at Wentworth and he's the one seeking helpful advices. He almost thinks that something terrifying has happened over the night and braces himself to intervene should Bea be in crisis.
His mind goes to Debbie and suddenly, he fears that something might have happened with Bea's daughter.
When Bea starts talking, he listens closely to what she says, never letting any of his thought be revealed by his facial expressions. Relief floods over him when he learns that the youngest Smith has only arrived earlier than expected. He anticipates Bea's question before the words are even pronounced and knows his answer already. He's lucky that he's already managed to talk to his team about the matter because he would hate to deny Bea's request.
"Of course, your daughter is welcomed to stay for the week, as long as she doesn't contact her father while she's here. I assume you haven't found an apartment yet?"
"No. The places I've searched turned out to be terrible or already rented." Bea replies with a discouraged voice.
"You still have time," he smiles.
He went into this field to help people.
He had just celebrated his marriage when his wife died in an altercation with a violent relative. He'd been the one to find her body, her cold, lifeless body, covered in more blood than he'd ever seen before. He still dreams about it when the night competes to be darker than his nightmares.
He'd thought he would never smile again. He'd thought he would never move on. He'd thought he was doomed to pretend to be alive for the rest of his miserable life. He'd dropped his job and turned to pills, but not for long. He'd kicked himself out of his hole. He'd unsuccessfully tried to find another job, until he'd found this place, where they welcomed him to work even if he was a man.
The women of the house had helped him glue his broken heart back together, more than he could have ever helped himself.
He'd worked here during the holidays, when the house was fully decorated, and the gifts were raining on everyone. He'd welcomed dozens of women who'd been through hell and helped them find their way back to paradise. He'd baked cookies with the kids and ended up covered by flour from head to toes. He'd played football with the infants, laughing until he couldn't breathe as a two years old child had kicked the ball and fell right after.
The happiness he could have had with his late wife had been replaced with the joy he'd found here. He had learned more about life in his years of working here than in his entire life.
Today, he's set on giving back as many second chances as possible.
"Just make sure you explain the rules to her before she comes here, alright? She doesn't use violence or take drugs or alcohol?"
Bea's smile gets brighter.
"Oh no, Debbie wouldn't do that."
It's a small Vietnamese restaurant hidden between a dental office and an administration building. It doesn't look appealing at all with its broken lights and its faded name hanging over the door. It's so discreet that it's completely empty during lunch time, most people preferring to grab take-out and leave immediately. However, the place is as clean as can be, the food comes from talented chefs, and the scents escaping through the door lure strangers inside every minute.
It's an unexpected gem that Bea and Debbie discovered, years ago, when Harry was out with his friends, getting drunk all night. It's been their place ever since, whenever they needed to find a quiet place to talk. It's become a safe haven, and Bea has asked Debbie to join her here to discuss a few things.
She's going to tell Debbie that Wentworth is ready to welcome her. She'll tell Debbie about the rules to follow, rules that she is sure will be no problem to her daughter.
She waves eagerly at Debbie when the young woman pushes the door open. She pulls Debbie in a tight embrace, inhaling deeply into her arms. She feels like she could embrace her for an hour. Words aren't enough to convey how much she's missed her during the past weeks. She has tears in her eyes when she steps back. She'll never get used to how fast her daughter is growing, and how far they've come together to be able to hug today. She's never been prouder.
"I ordered our usual," Bea smiles as they sit face to face. She looks at Debbie like she's staring at the brightest diamond. No matter how exhausted she is, she's the happiest when Debbie is here with her. "How were your friends? Were they happy you were back?"
Debbie plays with the corner of her napkin and glances hesitantly between her hands and her mother. She takes a sip of water, but it feels like she swallows dry sand.
"It went great," she lies. Images of her father's surprised eyes are dancing in her mind. His voice, warm and welcoming, encouraging her to come in and grab a cup of tea, is still playing in her head. "We're already planning to meet again tomorrow. We have a lot to share. They want to know everything."
"That's good! It really is," Bea insists. She'd been worried sick that her daughter would lose all her friends after studying so far, but it seems like she was wrong. She's so relieved that she doesn't notice the nervousness in her daughter's eyes. "How are your studies?"
She's asked this question many times on the phone, but she wants to hear it again.
She wants to see her daughter's mouth moving so she can truly, finally, believe her.
"They're good, I told you," Debbie grins. "I've had great grades so far and the program is very interesting."
"And your friends? From there? They're nice with you?"
"They're amazing. I'm the first to be surprised at how welcomed I've been. You have nothing to worry about," Debbie smirks. "They're nerds too, so we don't spend every night going out, if that's what you think I'm doing."
She doesn't mention the occasional debaucheries, the occasional times she allows herself to lose control, and how much she loves it.
"I'm your mom, my job is to worry about you," Bea shakes her head slowly. "And I have all the reasons to worry! My little girl, alone there. I barely talk to you."
"You call me every day! I'm not five anymore," Debbie rolls her eyes playfully. She decides not to mention that if she's alone there, it's because she was sent there against her will.
She's still angry about that.
"It won't ever be enough, I'll call you more," Bea replies like it's obvious.
They share about the last few days and Debbie's flight. Bea tries to divert the conversation from the serious subjects, but sooner than later, she has to talk about it.
"I've got good news. You can stay with me until you leave. You're staying a while, aren't you?" Bea asks, ready to explain the rules of Wentworth as fast as she can so they can move on. It'd be easier if she already had a place of her own, but apparently, the world of real estate hates her.
The plan had always been for Debbie to come back for a full month in vacations. But plans change, and Debbie can't lie about that.
"I didn't want to tell you last night, but I came back here early because I'm leaving early too. I'll go back at the end of the week."
The food arrives at this moment, and suddenly, Bea thinks that her plate doesn't look appetizing anymore. It just looks bland, and ordinary, and deception tugs at her heart. She pokes at the piece of chicken and just stares at it for a moment while Debbie shifts anxiously in her chair.
"What do you mean, you're going back?" Bea asks, removing a strand of hair from her face. "you don't have to go back there for weeks."
She fears that she's finally driven Debbie away, and it eats her alive.
There's no delicate way to drop the news, and Debbie just chews her bite for as long as she can before her mother gives her a pointed look.
"I met someone."
Curiosity flashes in Bea's eyes.
"Someone… or someone?" she asks slyly, her lips curling up in amusement.
"Mom?! Gross."
"You're the one who started this conversation," Bea answers with an innocent voice, eyes twinkling with malice. "You never mentioned it in our calls!"
"It wasn't official."
Bea scoffs. Kids and their statuses now, she will never understand.
She's waited for this moment a long time. Debbie had had her first crush on a boy in elementary school, and it had been short lived. Ever since then, Bea's been worried that Harry's behavior would ruin relationships for her daughter. She knows the statistics. She knows Debbie is at risk of becoming a victim of domestic violence too.
But hearing about Debbie having a potential someone suddenly makes her heart flutter.
"Fine. I met a guy. I think I like him. Don't make this a big deal."
Bea giggles, really does, because she is going to make this the biggest deal of the century.
She wants Debbie to know love.
She wants Debbie to know real love, not the rotten version she's had.
The kind of love that turns one's stomach all upside-down from the excitement of a single phone call. The kind that hurts sometimes, but never leaves permanent scars or bruises. The kind that heals unseen wounds with its whispered voices and comforting touches. The kind that leads to sleepless nights spent overthinking the future. The kind that creates insecurities that weren't there in the first place.
The one that transforms the boring into the extraordinary, and the ugly into beauty. The one that first exists in the form of awkward first dates, but turns into wild adventures as time goes. The one that burns, that cools, that destroys and fixes, but mostly, that makes someone feel at the top of the world every second of every day.
She wants that for Debbie. She wants her to experience how special it is to fall in love.
She's only just discovering it herself, the way it all feels.
It feels like she's falling and falling, and it might never end. She might crash, she might not survive, she might get adrenaline pumped into her body until the end of the days, or she might not, but she couldn't care less. It feels perfect to her.
Falling in love is the most addictive feeling.
"What's his name?" Bea asks softly.
"Brayden. We share a class, but he's a year older than me. He asked me out and we started hanging out. I told him I'd be back in a week. We're going to a cabin with some friends from school."
"My daughter's ditching me for a guy? Where has the time gone?" Bea laughs in disbelief. "I used to wonder when you'd meet someone, I never thought… I never thought you'd meet one so far from here."
Her voice gets lost into the air until Debbie snaps her fingers in front of her.
"He's good with me. I know what you're thinking. You wish you could meet him and throw some death threats at him. Well, he's not like dad. He never laid a hand on me," she explains quickly, feeling like she needs to reassure her mother on that matter. "He's been very understanding of my situation. I told him."
Bea wonders what exactly Debbie told this stranger, but she calms herself, arguing that Debbie is smart and wouldn't endanger herself.
"He treats you well?" she asks.
She's unaware that Brayden had introduced her daughter to the world of narcotics just a few months ago.
"He really does," Debbie smiles.
Debbie has no intention of telling her mother about the drugs.
Debbie had taken her first pill two weeks after she'd arrived. She'd loved the feeling, the rush and the euphoria. The absence of fear had been intoxicating and so incredibly different than what she'd felt before. She just hadn't been able to stop afterwards.
And she wants to go back because Brayden had promised her more when she'd be back. He'd promised her to go a step farther, and she can't wait.
She's become an expert at keeping secrets. She tells herself that it won't last, that her mother would never understand anyway so there's no point in telling her.
It's temporary. She could stop if she wanted, but she just doesn't want to yet.
"I trust you, my love," Bea gently replies, her hand reaching for Debbie's. "If you say he's good, then he must be. You're smart."
Her daughter would never make the same mistakes she made.
"But if you're going back next week, you better not be spending your week on your phone, talking to that Brayden, you hear me?" she continues, her hand squeezing Debbie's. "I want you all to myself, I've missed you so much."
She thanks the skies that they're reconnecting again, this time without the grey memories surrounding them.
"Really? Because it looks like you found someone to keep you company," Debbie wiggles her eyebrows.
"Don't change the subject!"
"Oh please, I'm not blind," Debbie rolls her eyes, recalling the protective way Allie had cornered her just this morning. "It's obvious there's something here."
Bea licks her lips anxiously.
"Well, if you must know, I like her."
"Like like her?"
"How old are you?" Bea laughs.
"The same age you were when you said someone!" Debbie replies with a mild disgusted expression on her face.
Bea bites her lower lip before she answers.
"I do. I like like her."
Bea waits for a reaction. Any reaction at all. She thinks that if Debbie disapproves, she won't know what to do next.
Debbie just looks at her like she always does.
"It's great, mom, you deserve it, whatever you have going on."
Bea breathes a little easier. Maybe she will be able to respect her promise to Maxine and finally tell Allie next.
They stop talking for a moment, both women digging into their food and taming the hunger.
Bea's chewing on her last bite when Debbie speaks again, and the question makes choke on her food. She coughs hard and asks her daughter to repeat, and she's baffled when she hears the same words again.
"What do you think if I went to see dad?"
"What? Debbie, you can't. You're going to live with me now, you don't have to see him again. You'll be safe," Bea frowns, her posture immediately stiffening.
It's not happening, she thinks, she hopes, she prays.
Harry took everything from her. She won't let him take her daughter too.
"Yeah, no worries," Debbie smiles like her heart isn't falling in her chest. "I just don't want to choose between you or him."
She has meaningful memories with both her parents and it breaks her heart to have to lose one. It feels like she's giving up her childhood. Her best memories come from those past years, and now, they're tainted with spots of dark ink that prevent her from enjoying them again.
She doesn't want to lose the woman who raised her all those years, making her a priority even when she was bleeding out and in need of medical assistance. She doesn't want to lose the woman who held her as they both cried, offering her a safe place to express her emotions. She doesn't want to lose the woman who made her the most delicious food and sang her the most beautiful songs everyday. She doesn't want to love the woman who asked her continuously how her day was, or the woman who gave her the last piece of cake even when she didn't deserve it.
She wants her mother to be safe and to have the life she deserves, but she wants the same for her father. She wants him to seek help, to be better in the future so she can keep a relationship with him.
She doesn't want to lose the man who taught her how to ride a bike or how to cook the best spaghetti sauce she knows. She doesn't want to lose the man who read her stories before bedtime and who she fell asleep next to, countless times on the couch, when they were both exhausted. She doesn't want to lose the man who taught her how to use a computer, or the man who took forever to trust her to walk to school by herself
She doesn't want to forget about all those times he made her laugh when she was crying.
Or those times he made her mother cry for no reason.
As much as she loves him, she hates him, and she wants to understand.
Understand where things went so wrong.
Understand what kind of man does this to the people he claims he loves most.
Understand why he never hit her, but he couldn't stop beating her mother.
"There's nothing to choose. He's not good for you. For us." Bea tries to remain calm, but her hands are trembling, and she forces an empty smile on her face. "You haven't seen him, have you? Because I won't let him go anywhere near you."
"But if he doesn't hurt me, and if you're not there, shouldn't it be alright? He'll never hit me."
Debbie licks her lips. Maybe her mom thinks there's nothing to choose from, but she feels differently. She's always felt differently, and it sucks, because it's none of their fault, and there's nothing to do about that.
"Well, I never thought he'd hit me, did I?" Bea asks urgently. "You have to understand how dangerous it is. You have no guarantee that he won't touch you."
"But I can keep my distance. What if I just call him on the phone?"
"He can find you. If he finds you, he'll find me," Bea says sadly. "I'm sorry Deb, I can't let you contact him in any way."
Of course, Debbie thinks, she had no chance to convince her mother. She should have known, and she feels dumb for trying. What's the fucking point? She can't control anything when she's here. She can only follow orders and wait for something to happen.
It's not like when she's oversea, in Brayden's arms, and he gives her choices to make and the power to have the final word.
"I get it, I do," Debbie replies somberly. "And I'm glad to be going with you, mom. I really am."
"I love you. Everything I do, it's to protect you," Bea insists. "I want nothing more than for you to be well. Believe me."
"I know."
It doesn't mean she agrees.
"Good," Bea inhales like it's the first time she's doing so in hours. "Now, I'm getting my life back. I'll find a good place to live, a great job, and it'll be just like before, only better. I'm getting there, I promise. I'll build us something amazing."
"I know you will," Debbie answers with a smile.
She doesn't doubt for a minute that her mother can do anything she sets her mind to.
"Wentworth is temporary, but there are some rules to follow," Bea starts to explain.
Debbie nods absently as her mother tells her about the life in the shelter.
She thinks of Brayden and his inviting arms and misses the end of the conversation.
Wentworth isn't the only shelter in town.
There are other places for men, places for women, even places for teenagers that have left their home to live in the streets. Some welcome people by themselves, some welcome families. Some let people stay for one night, some for a few days, while others offer apartments to rent for a few months at an affordable price. Some are specialized in mental health issues or crisis intervention, while others refuse to let anyone at risk inside their doors. Some agree to let people with an addiction problem inside their doors, but most don't.
Several save lives.
But many also lose lives.
Allie visits countless places in one afternoon. So many places reject her for any reason at all, that she's losing track of where to go. She thinks that there are so many shelters, but also so many restrictions that it's a wonder they still accept enough people to fill their beds. She thinks it's stupid. Where do all the rejected people go?
She finds herself at the place where she stayed years ago, when Kaz wasn't in prison and when she first dragged herself out of the streets. She thinks they won't take her again, not after she disappeared on them abruptly before.
She's wrong and she thinks that life is finally giving her a fair chance to win this game.
"It's temporary, just a few nights, but it's better than the alley," Allie explains to Bea. "I'm looking forward to not having to wake up every hour to make sure my things are still here. The only condition is that I must try to find a place for myself and possibly another job… Not that I've been working much recently."
It's the end of the evening, not anytime near their usual five o'clock meeting, but Bea has asked that they change the time of their meetings, so she can stay with Debbie during the night.
"I'm glad you'll be safe," Bea breathes out. Time is passing by at lightspeed, and she only realizes now how far they're come. "Can you really do that? Leave your job and disappear?"
Allie shrugs.
"I used a fake name and I was careful with my regulars."
"Were you?" Bea frowns, remembering the night she had to pick up Allie's broken pieces off the ground.
"Yeah, it's hard to believe," Allie chuckles to herself. "But this isn't the type of job where you can keep track of your hours and salary. I worked for myself. I don't have anyone to talk to if I want to stop. I'm lucky in a way. If I want to stop, I can."
She's excited to stop working and find another job. Working had started to be harder than ever since she'd met Bea. She hadn't been able to shut her mind off the way she'd used to, and every time she'd left the motel rooms, she'd been overwhelmed with shame and self hatred.
"Maybe you'll finally get a place of your own," Bea smiles. She resists the urge to freaking clap her hands at the fact that Allie is finally moving on from this profession. She was never a fan of it.
"I wish. Will you move in with me if I do?" Allie bats her lashes at Bea at a ridiculous speed and both women burst in laughs.
Allie's smile is as bright as always, and Bea somehow wonders if the blonde practices how to be the most joyful person on Earth before their meetings.
Bea thinks of the promise she made Maxine.
She can't seem to forget it, and she has no excuses not to respect it. She thinks her heart will fly to the moon if it beats any faster. She tries to think of the perfect moment, but she can't think properly when the idea of living with Allie is floating in her mind.
She thinks they might be moving too fast.
She thinks she might not care.
"Is that a real offer? I'm quite picky on houses," Bea teases.
Allie is reminded of the expensive houses she saw earlier, but she doesn't let this discourage her.
"I'll buy you a castle," she serenades. "And anything else you want," she adds genuinely.
Sitting on this bench over a month ago had to have been the best decision of her life because now, she's holding Bea's hand, and Bea doesn't pull back, only lets her thumb caress the back of Allie's hand.
The sunset makes the scene extremely corny, but Allie couldn't care less. She'd live in a romantic cliché movie everyday if that means she'd spend time with Bea. Heck, she'd love to make her own movie out of their strange undefined relationship.
It would have the happiest of all happy endings.
"That's not necessary," Bea chuckles. "I wasn't serious."
"Well, I was! So get your fancy ass ready to move in with mine because it's happening. We're going to live together, and we'll grow old until we're ninety, and we'll have wild hot sex all day, everyday, remember?"
Judging by the way Bea's eyes light up like fireworks, Allie knows her ridiculous answer was the right one.
"I can't wait," Bea winks, and Allie thanks the universe that she's sitting or else, she would have fallen to her knees right here and now.
Bea thinks that this might be the right moment to tell Allie.
Tell her she likes her.
Tell her she cares about her in a non-friendship way.
Tell her, tell her, tell her.
"Did Debbie join you at Wentworth?" Allie asks lightly, changing the subject, unaware that Bea is having a mental breakdown.
"She did," Bea grins. "She didn't want to talk to anyone and she went straight to my room, but she told me it isn't a bad place."
"That's good. I was scared she was going to force you to run away abroad with her," Allie laughs.
Or worse, she thinks, remembering her argument with Debbie.
She feels like she needs to tell Bea, but how can she when Bea is looking at her with such bliss in her eyes?
"Really?" Bea mockingly asks. "And what if she did?"
"I'm coming with you! You won't get rid of me so easily," Allie winks. "I've got so much to teach you."
The sexual innuendo is crystal clear, and Bea lowers her head in embarrassment.
She finds herself thinking of how it would feel to be pressed against Allie, and to drown into her blue eyes just seconds before their lips connect.
How it would feel to have Allie's hands travel everywhere, from the curve of her neck to her lower back, past her waistband, and then lower than she can bear to think of.
How it would feel to have Allie's lips replace her hands.
How it would feel to -
"Your hand's getting sweaty," Allie points out. "Nervous?"
Bea doesn't reply. It's the first time she's thought of sex in forever, and she can't, simply can't, stop thinking about Allie, naked underneath her.
It excites her, but mostly, it terrifies her.
Allie smirks silently. Gosh, this is too easy.
She loves it, but she can't let them stay in this situation. There's so much she needs to tell Bea, so much she needs to confess.
"It's fine," Bea clears her throat.
Maybe this is the moment, she thinks.
The right moment to tell Allie.
Anything at all, really, just to change the subject.
"I need to tell you something," she whispers.
It's so quiet, and Allie doesn't answer, and Bea realizes a little too late that she's never said those words out loud.
"I need your advice on a hypothetical situation," Allie breaks the silence nervously, interrupting Bea's silent words.
Fine.
Maybe she can wait a bit more.
Bea gazes at Allie and waits for her to keep going. She has a feeling the situation isn't as hypothetical as Allie claims it is, but she'll be the judge of that later.
"Supposed I'm going through a rough time. I don't have any friends, I'm kind of in a new neighborhood, I don't feel comfortable talking to anyone, I have a lot of anger inside of me… And I just don't know what to do anymore."
Bea frowns, wondering where this is coming from.
"And I look for something to do and I find nothing. Nothing helps me feeling better. And I can't talk to anyone. And eventually, some circumstances lead me to drugs."
"You're not thinking of using again, are you?' Bea nearly shouts, worried that Allie's relapsing.
"No, it's hypothetical," Allie insists, a little too hard for Bea to believe her. "So, things happen, and I find that I like drugs. And at first, it's recreational, it's fun, and then I can't really give them up."
"What advice do you need for this hypothetical situation," Bea purses her lips, her eyes staring at every part of Allie's body, searching for hints.
Maybe she should trust Allie's words and accepts that this is a hypothetical situation, but her instinct tells her it can't be that simple.
"Well, what would you tell me?"
That you fucked up.
"That you're a recovering addict and you should never use drugs, even recreationally," Bea answers, brutally honest. "Seriously, Allie, what's wrong?"
Cut the fucking crap, she wants to yell. She's never enjoyed uncertainties and ambiguous answers.
"Okay, but let's say I wasn't an addict," Allie suggests, ignoring Bea's last question.
Bea opens her mouth and closes it. She's having a hard time grasping the situation, and she senses that Allie is getting increasingly nervous.
Something is wrong, and she can't figure out what.
"I'd tell you to stop using and seek help. Why?"
Allie's smile doesn't reach her eyes.
"Just wondering."
She senses Bea's suspicions and doesn't want to ruin everything, but she has a feeling it's too late for that.
"Tell me or you can forget about me ever moving in with you," Bea says, half serious, half worried to death.
Allie sighs, her mind debating how to formulate her next thought in a respectful way for everyone.
"I think…"
She struggles to let the words out. They just won't come out. No matter how much she wants them to.
Bea removes her hand from Allie's and turns to face her directly, her eyes drilling into Allie's as she seeks the truth.
The annihilating truth.
"I think Debbie's using," Allie confesses.
Bea blinks once. Twice. Even three times, before a small smile appears on her face.
"You must be kidding me," she snickers. "There's no way that's true."
She laughs sourly. Really, there's no way.
"What's wrong Allie? You got yourself some gear and you want me to throw it away? I can do that. Just tell me," Bea says like it's no big deal.
Allie would feel offended by that statement, but she's too busy getting anxious.
"I'm serious, Bea. I really think she's using. She was shaking last night."
Bea shakes her head and a tiny laugh escape her throat.
"No, you're wrong. Whatever happened, you're mistaken," Bea argues gently.
"I talked to her."
"When?"
"This morning. I followed her," Allie explains, hiding the fact that they ended up streets away from Harry's house.
Bea frowns.
"What? Why would you do that?"
"She didn't deny it when I asked her," Allie whispers. "I'm sorry, Bea."
Bea rolls her eyes.
"Don't be sorry. You misread the situation," she says, convinced that this is all a misunderstanding. "Debbie would never take drugs. She's not… "
She closes her mouth, swallowing the words that were about to come out.
"A junkie?" Allie interrupts. She wants Bea to listen to her. She needs Bea to listen to her, especially now. "I wasn't either, you know, when I started?"
"Well Debbie isn't! She'll never be!" Bea says loudly, attracting a few people's eyes on them. "Maybe your past prevents you from seeing that, but Debbie isn't anything like you."
She regrets the words as soon as she says them, and she sees the hurt reflecting in Allie's eyes.
She closes her eyes. This is not what she wanted to tell Allie.
This isn't what she was supposed to tell her.
This isn't what she told Maxine she'd do.
"No one is immune to that," Allie insists, trying to remain calm in adversity. She knows Bea doesn't really mean those words. Bea would never say that in another situation. Bea's only reacting without thinking properly. "I'm telling you, I'm an expert at this."
God, this is going terribly wrong.
"Right now, she needs your protection more than ever," Allie states strongly.
Bea almost roars at that statement.
She may have made some wrong choices in her life, but she's spent years protecting Debbie, taking the hits so she wouldn't, listening to the insults so he wouldn't direct his attention to his daughter. She'd made sure he was always preying on her, and never Debbie. She'd directed smiles and laughs at Debbie to let her know that the world wasn't ending, even with a broken jaw and bleeding lips.
She'd talked to her daughter and embraced her, and kissed her to sleep ever night, ignoring the way her own body just wanted to collapse and give up the fight. She'd feed her every day even when she had to hold the burning food in her hands because Harry had taken all the dishes out of the house. She'd pretended to play a constant game of hide and seek with Debbie whenever she knew Harry was prone to explode, even going as far as locking them in the bathroom for three full hours.
She'd taken everything she had and given it to Debbie.
How could Allie even suggest that she isn't protecting her daughter right this moment?
"I'm going to give a chance to stop talking," Bea declares, her eyes shooting bullets in Allie's direction. "Or to correct yourself."
"I won't. You need to hear this," Allie replies with a voice that cuts through Bea's fortress. "I know it's hard to hear, but you have to. I wouldn't say it unless I was sure."
Bea looks away. She feels like she's going to pass out.
It can't be true. It just can't.
"Look, Bea, I don't think it's too late. I don't think she's addicted yet. There's still time to help her."
"You're right, she isn't addicted," Bea denies, shaking her head firmly again. "You don't get to come here and tell me that you think my daughter's doing drugs. You don't know her like I do."
"You don't know the signs like I do," Allie fires back.
"You're wrong," Bea repeats.
Bea moves back on the bench. Sitting in proximity with Allie only makes her sick now.
"Bea, listen, as your friend - "
Bea clenches her jaw.
Friend.
And to think she came here to tell Allie that she –
"Oh yeah? Is that what we are?" Bea shoots angrily, leaving her thought unfinished.
She is brought back to her conversation with Maxine, to her conversation with Debbie, to the times she almost kissed Allie and the times Allie almost kissed her. She wants everything be clear once and for all because they can't keep playing pretend and avoiding what they are.
Allie is making her feel so many emotions that can't be described as friendship, and Bea is more than tired of acting like her heart isn't jolting alive every time she sees her.
"We're not just friends. You've been flirting with me since day one. You almost kissed me." Bea stops and takes a deep breath when she finally, finally, mentions it. It feels good to finally say it out loud. Now, she isn't the only one obsessing over that thought.
Allie blinks.
This isn't about them. It's about Debbie.
Is it?
Allie feels the situation slipping out of her hands and she's losing control on everything.
She sees the pain in Bea's eyes and she hates that she feels responsible for it. She wishes she could make it all go away, but she's too far gone to stop now. She can't turn back the clock, she can't run back from where she came from.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
"Bea, I care about you. I'm saying this precisely because I care," Allie replies slowly, aware that every word she says must be chosen wisely. "This isn't what this conversation is about…"
She has no idea where the conversation is heading toward. It keeps switching from Debbie, to their relationship, to the anger that is now pouring out of Bea's mouth like she's a volcano in the middle of a violent eruption.
"Your words are worth shit right now," Bea spits out like venom, her overprotective side exploding. She's so focused on the ways she'd had to protect Debbie in the past that she can't see that the present is different. "You're telling me lies about my daughter, hm? Who knows what else you lied about."
Allie opens her mouth wide when she realizes what Bea implies.
"Bea, no," she stutters, "we can talk about us if you want, but this isn't the right moment. Right now, I'm begging you to listen to me. I'm begging you, please."
Bea bites her lips so hard that she thinks she tastes blood in her mouth.
"Why are you saying that Debbie's taking gear? If you want to break my heart, fine, but don't you dare use my daughter to do it."
Bea crosses her arms protectively on her chest.
Irrational thoughts are attacking her from all sides, and she doesn't even try to dismiss them. Maybe Allie's finally realized that Bea wasn't worth her attention. Maybe Allie doesn't know how to let her down gently, so she's using Debbie as an excuse. Maybe Allie thinks that insulting what Bea loves the most will be enough to break them.
It makes no fucking sense, but really, anything is better than the idea that Allie might be saying the truth.
"Because it's the truth!" Allie yells, raising her arms in the air, her emotions getting the best of her. "And you need to accept this and help her if you don't want her to turn out like me. If you don't want her to end up in the streets and live a shitty life."
Allie will drag herself in the mud if that's what it takes for Bea to listen to her.
"She needs your help," Allie murmurs. "Trust me on this. It always starts with the small, inoffensive doses, until they're not anymore."
Bea scoffs and looks at Allie like she doesn't know her anymore, doesn't trust her anymore.
"Bea, when have I ever lied to you?" Allie gently asks, smiling sadly.
Never.
Bea knows it too well and maybe that's why her heart is being crushed so intensely right now.
"Bea, you know that I don't want to hurt you," Allie croaks with a broken voice.
Allie's features soften, and she moves closer, cupping Bea's cheek in a shaking hand.
It doesn't sound like a lie at all.
Bea can't listen to this anymore. She stands up so quickly that she gets dizzy. Adrenaline kicks in and she nearly races towards Wentworth, with Allie calling out her name in the dark.
She can't do this. She doesn't stop. She increases her speed and dashes through the streets, barely looking before she crosses the intersections. She nearly gets hit by a car, but she still refuses to slow down. She arrives at the shelter in a minute, only for Allie to catch up to her.
"Bea, wait!" Allie shouts, looking at her from across the street.
She doesn't answer, doesn't stop, doesn't even look back. She rings the doorbell under Allie's pleading eyes.
She shuts the door behind her, unware that Allie's finally crossed the street and stands there, half alive.
She walks past Vera and enters her room without a word.
Debbie is sleeping on her bed, and Bea wants nothing more than to make everything, the past, the present and the future, vanish.
She sits at the desk and buries her head in the palms of her hands.
She falls asleep on the hard, wooden desk, but when she wakes up, her heart still aches more than her sore body.
Debbie's waiting in line to get breakfast.
Bea's watching her attentively from the table she's sitting at. It's getting hard to ignore Maxine and Boomer's voices, but she shuts them out regardless, focusing her attention to her daughter. She's been unable to divert her eyes ever since she slammed the door on Allie's face. Something in the blonde's words had activated her inner alarm system.
Surely, Allie is wrong, but Bea finds herself needing confirmation.
She stares as Debbie places bread in her plate and pours a cup of tea. Everything seems normal. Debbie doesn't even seem tired at all. She seems wide awake. Her movements are confident, her arms are strong and steady, and she doesn't even flinch when someone accidently bumps into her. She politely excuses herself and walks toward Bea's table.
In fact, she seems acutely aware of her surroundings and highly confident as she approaches the table and immediately introduces herself to Maxine and Boomer. She even sounds excited to be here, to meet new people.
Perhaps too much.
Debbie has never been a morning person, and Bea knows her daughter prefers to stay quiet rather than to engage in a conversation with strangers.
Could a few weeks spent abroad be the reason for such change?
Bea wonders if this is all a coincidence.
"Bea?"
Bea looks up at Liz's voice.
"Could I see you a minute?"
Bea walks to Liz's office and Liz proceeds to close the doors to give them just enough privacy to speak without being accidently listened to. Her mind still flies back to Debbie, but she tries to focus on Liz's voice for a moment.
"I'm sorry Bea, but I need to know your answer about your ex-husband's request?"
Bea wants to laugh because she said she was going to think about it, but really, she would rather do anything else than see Harry again.
His stupid request to see her to discuss the divorce had quickly left her mind.
But a small, harmful thought crosses her mind and makes the decision harder than she'd expected it to be.
What if he knows about Debbie?
She curses mentally because she knows she's made her choice, and it might ruin everything.
"I'll see him."
Three things:
1. So far, I plan that this story will have a total of 18 chapters.
2. Stick around for chapters 9-10... and all the others, it'll be worth it!
3. Thanks for reading :)