Chapter 2
Chapter 2 (Beatrice)
She loved Camilla, she was her best friend, the one person she could lay all her trust in without a second thought. But on this very morning, Beatrice could only think how she wanted to murder her. She appreciated Camilla’s kindness, that this morning’s events all grew from a place of warmth in her heart, but Beatrice, forever the perfectionist, was struggling to excuse that ‘place of warmth’.
Camilla had convinced Beatrice to partake in a celebratory breakfast, “you need to slow down Bea, stand back and look at your accomplishments. You’re allowed to do that occasionally.” She had half-heartedly fought Camilla on the breakfast idea, knowing it was futile. So, there they were, seated at a quaint café near Long Beach, enjoying their breakfast.
Well, ‘enjoying’ was one way to describe it, for Camilla, she supposed it was an accurate statement. But Beatrice couldn’t help but check her watch every couple of minutes, growing impatient with each passing second.
Camilla who was seated across from her, lifted her rounded sunglasses to reveal her disappointed look, “Beatrice, can you enjoy the moment. Stop looking and planning for the future. We are here, right now, celebrating the fact that you’re about to go into your last year of college and so close to finally knocking off that insane course. You are about to be a free women Bea!”
Beatrice understood where Camilla was coming from, that she was going to finally leave her parents legacy behind her. But that could not happen if she was going to be late for her first day. Starting this last year with one foot in the grave was not how Beatrice functioned. She was prompt, precise and prepared. But when she looked across the table, to see a soft and warm look across Camilla’s face and eyes, she could only respond with smile and a whispered “No of course, you’re right.”
Suddenly both Camilla and Beatrice’s attention was drawn to the roll of wheels coming to a halt and clanking of a skateboard as a young girl hurriedly jumped off, almost dangerously. The pair then heard a shout from inside and saw the girl muttering to herself while skipping up the steps and throwing her board behind the doors haphazardly. Late for her shift, Beatrice could only assume.
Camilla broke their interest in the stressed worker when she perked up and said, “I promise I will not be making you as late. I know you well enough to know that whole fiasco would send you into panic attack and an ER trip.”
Beatrice let out a laugh in return. For once in the last half hour, it wasn’t forced or strangled in her throat. But it was genuine belly-laugh that reached her eyes and showed off her teeth as her cheeks scrunched up her face, “God she seems to be the exact opposite to me, you’re right about that.”
If Beatrice was being honest, she was dreading this first day. She hated this course, it wasn’t her but it was what her parents thought she was, or wanted her to be. They had molded Beatrice years before she could begin to form her own opinions, before the world could imprint on her. If she were to start thinking out of her parents small-minded walls, she was immediately put back in place. She was kept on a lead, with a shock collar. Every time she stepped out of the Young’s ‘picture-perfect’ family, the collar was buzzing, and the tight hold of the lead further strangled her. Everything she was had been created by her parents. But despite knowing all of this, a part of her felt that this was how she needed to be if she wanted to be accepted in society, better yet: for her to be successful. It was this part that controlled her and had driven all her friends away. Beatrice each day thought it was a miracle that Camilla stayed seated across from her, never leaving her side, and always trying to help Beatrice break-away from her parent’s death-grip. It was one of the reasons she loved Camilla. She’d never give up on Beatrice. One day, just maybe Camilla might be able to crack her upbringing and release Beatrice Young.
But as they finished up breakfast and paid for the bill, as each slung their respective bags across their shoulders. Beatrice couldn’t shake her parents’ mindset, how she held a disgust at the girl who carelessly chucked her skateboard behind the door. Beatrice was brought up to be perfect all the time, regardless of her situation. If she was late, it was on her, but God-forbid she ever allowed herself to be late in the first place. That was tacky, and irresponsible.
***
Her classes passed, and the day was bearable. The lectures covered everything she didn’t already know. Her parents had made sure she was prepared for what the courses covered, it insured she’d always be top of the class, not that she wouldn’t be able to achieve the results without prior learning.
She pushes open the heavy doors of the university entrance, letting out a tired sigh as she descended the ancient pyramid steps. Beatrice had grown restless throughout the day, having not really needed to pay attention during her lectures. She needed to move. The gym was just across from the university, but the thought of running along the beachfront lingered in her mind. Either option would be just as relaxing as the other.
Beatrice tossed the two ideas against each other, but in the end favoring the former option. She would spend an hour or so in the gym, hoping to hit each section at maximum effort and then end her session with a walk along the beachfront back to her apartment.
She was met with an ice-cold prick to her skin on entry. It provided a relief, contrasting itself to the sweltering heat of the Long Beach summer afternoon. It was appreciated as she made her way to the changing rooms, tog bag in hand. As she changed, she planed her routine, planning with the most efficient schedule to burn off her overloaded energy. She had half a mind to head to the front desk and check if her sparring partner had come in today. Beating Lilith’s ass was always a solid outlet. But that could wait for a more dire day, instead Beatrice opted for her basic circuit: Warm up run, legs, back, arms and chest and a short warm down run, with stretching in between. That would be good enough for today.
***
A good hour and a half had passed, and Beatrice had started to wind down her end of session run, steadying herself to a light jog. Despite the ice-cold conditioning system placed around the gym, she still dripped in sweat, her hair clinging to the base of her damp neck. The machine began to beep at her minute left countdown, Beatrice further slowed to a walk and stepped off the machine. She chugged down half of her water and headed to the changing rooms to retrieve her tog bag.
Beatrice passed through the gym doors, immediately missing the cool air, that was now pure humidity. Sweat dripped from her chin and temples at a faster rate, her bun at the center of head weighing heavy and becoming uncomfortable. Beatrice walked towards the boardwalk, where she sets her hair free and slowly drains the rest of the water in a her bottle. The sea breeze did very little to bring relief to the drops down her face. She pulled her phone out from her armband that it would rest during her workouts.
She looked down to see variety of messages and notifications: Texts from her parents and Camilla, both asking how her first day was. Each party’s intentions varying between ‘future of the family’ and ‘you alright’. Couple of emails and few Instagram notifications littered her screen amongst the texts.
She didn’t quite know why she had Instagram. Camilla had conned her into creating an account, but Beatrice never understood the purpose or reasons behind having to show off everything you did at every minute. She was perfectly content in keeping herself closed off and releasing minimal information (less evidence against her, she would argue, protect the family badge and all that). What she did, what she ate, where she went was her business and hers alone and maybe a few close individuals in her life. Beatrice swiped to unlock her phone, making a forced action to delete the app but in the process her phone had suddenly been flung out her hand, an instant strike to her shoulder and then her back as she hit the concrete paving of the walk way.
She heard a hurry of cuss words from somewhere behind her, and the clanking of something.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck I’m so sorry. I- Are you alright? Are you hurt. Fuck your phone!”
Beatrice just wanted the voice to stop, just for one second. She wanted to collect herself, all she could see in that moment was the afternoon sun blaring down through the corner of her eye, her head felt fuzzy, and her shoulder was slowly bruising. Beatrice lay there for what felt for minutes, and that God forsaken voice would not shut up.
Beatrice lifted herself up onto her forearms, stabilizing herself slowly. Her shoulder shooting with fire. Beatrice further gathered herself until she was fully sitting upright, legs sprawled out in front of her. The figure finally rounded to face her. Beatrice was surprised, yet without any knowledge of the girl wasn’t all too shocked either.
“Café girl…” Was all Beatrice could muster as she registered everything around her.
The girl above her stood back, face countering in confusion and slightest hint of defense, “Huh?”
With a languid movement and hiss of pain, Beatrice pointed an accusatory finger in the girls’ direction, “You, you work at the café I went for breakfast at this morning, you were late and threw your skateboard carelessly behind the doors with what seemed like very little concern for anyone or the board itself.”
The girl’s facial features shifted from confusion to downright rage, and not only did her face portray those emotions, but the way in-which the girl aggressively stepped around Beatrice to grab that very board she saw thrown earlier. The girl returned, closer to Beatrice now. She held the board, with a wide-eyed look, pointing a mocking finger at her board, “Oh you mean this board? You mean my board? Or to be honest a complete strangers board? One you having nothing to do with? Yes, is that correct?” Sarcasm seeped through her tone, which only infuriated Beatrice further.
Beatrice could only stare directly back at the girl with a challenging glare, but the girl did not seem to be fazed by Beatrice’s reaction. She simply let out a low, malicious laugh, shaking her head lightly, “That’s what I thought.”
The girl simply left Beatrice on the floor, stunned and angry. The girl had walked past Beatrice, but knew she had not left immediately, only a few seconds later did she hear the wheels hit the floor and the girl push off with a loud scuff of her shoes. Beatrice just listened to the grind of the skateboard become fainter as the two women gained space from each other. She finally picked herself up, rolling her shoulder out, wincing with the rotation. That was going to be a problem for the next few days.
She headed back to her apartment in much more sour mood than when she had first left this morning for her breakfast with Camilla. She searched for phone, hoping to listen to music to settle her thoughts about the girl. Beatrice shoved her hands into the small pockets of her leggings, then her bag and last attempt, her armband. Each with no phone to show. The phone had been in her hand, and then it was involuntarily thrown from her. Oh…
“Shit.” Beatrice mutters to herself, “Shit, shit, shit.” It was with the girl, she had it in her hand, waiting and wanting to give it back to Beatrice but then they had that spat and the girl walked off with it. Most likely hadn’t noticed she still held it, no doubt it had been because of the haze of anger the two held for each other in that moment.
Of course, she let her anger blind her, and now she is going to have to hang out her pride for all to see when she returns to the café tomorrow morning to retrieve her phone from the carless skater girl, “Nicely done Bea, that was prim and proper, wasn’t it.” She chastises herself softly.