On board a first-class passenger seat, Beth sat with her legs tucked under her quilt, the sound of the turbines reverberating around the aircraft as the passengers were dozing away the remaining few hours of the flight. In her hands lay the king chess piece, pressed to her cheek, as it was the only thing that was anchoring her and her sobriety to the world.
A full glass of Gibson could be seen patiently on top of the reclining table, sinfully waiting to be consumed, and a small glass bottle that contained 3 green pills that she had found tucked away in her suite case that had been forgotten, now hidden in the side pocket of her carry-on bag.
Beth glared at the Gibson, regretting the change of her order when the flight stewardess had asked for her drinks. At first, she had answered a coke but had cancelled it midway for the alcoholic drink. Ever since the last time she had flushed the tranquilizer pills down the toilet and given up alcohol during her stay in Moscow, the cravings for her vices had died down.
But since her check-out from the Moscow inn, the voices were back, enticing her once again back to her old habits.
"To hell with it" Beth whispered.
She then reached for the glass, drank the Gibson in one go, and called for the stewardess to take her glass. Further covering her folded body with one hand with the quilt she couldn't seem to go without, and in another securely held the chess piece that was stopping her from reaching for the small glass bottle. As the numbing and calming effects of the alcohol take over, Beth looks out the cloud filled skies and relishes in the aftereffects as she neared her destination.
Turning the lock on the door, Beth enters her Kentucky house, the inside looking emptier than before even with the newly bought furniture. As she drops her bags with a sounded thud on the floor, Beth walks over to the wall mounted phone but pauses midway as she reaches for the handle before retracting her hand back to her side.
She crouches down, her hands reaching over to rub the back of her neck, then extends back to sags against the back of the sofa.
A memory flashes through her head of when she sat on a chair in front of her old mentor inside the dimly lit, cluttered basement of her old Methuen institution. A small jolt of amusement courses through her when she realized that she has become quite fond of being around people who had specifically mentored her and had lived or lives in dreary basements. But it doesn't last long as the nostalgia washes over her.
With a gruff voice and contemplating eyes, Mr. Shaibel had said
"People like you have a hard time. You have your gift, and you've got what it costs. It's hard to say for you on what that'll mean. You'll have your time in the sun, but for how long?
You have so much anger in you. You have to be careful."
Was this one of the things Mr. Shaibel meant before? Was this what he was trying to telling me? Beth pondered.
She had asked Georgi during her Tournament in Mexico a similar thing of what he would do after he had reached the top. Yet here she lay at the top of her expertise, not knowing what to do next. Some role model she was.
"Maybe he was right. Maybe I will be end up as some washed-up chess player" She chuckled humorlessly.
Beth closed her eyes, dropped her head in between her drawn up knees, and wrapped her arm around herself. With a deep breath, she lifted her head as she took out the king piece from her pocket and looks over to the mounted phone. The sound of the words she'd been longing to hear again replaying in the hollow room.
I miss you
"I miss you too"