to see you smile - avatrice

chapter 2

Beatrice is pretty distracted by her case files when Ava lands heavily into her very uncomfortable visitor chair the following week. Beatrice has got a pen in her mouth, a frown on her face, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to have remove an eight year old boy from his parents due to a fun combination of general neglect and the kid’s behavioural issues that they just straight up aren’t equipped to deal with. Of course, behavioural issues almost always means group home, and those places are the worst. She should know, she’s been in one. But she’s kind of running out of options and it’s pissing her off. Ava just sits there, waiting until she stops typing and when Beatrice looks at her, she drops the pen out of her mouth and onto her desk because she knows in her chest that something is really wrong.

“You had a shitty childhood, right?” Ava asks. Blunt as always. Beatrice nods, because it’s true, and she’s pretty sure Ava's going to go somewhere with this. “Do you have, like, dates that were particularly shit that you remember? Or was it just one long blur of shitty?” Beatrice considers the question for a moment.

“Mainly a blur of shitty,” she says. “I mean, the day Mum died is a thing, but it’s not a symbol for everything that went wrong in my childhood or anything.” Ava nods, thinking.

“You’re not really a dweller. Residual anger, chip on the shoulder, but you’re not... ,” Ava starts, contemplatively, but cuts herself off with a heavy sigh. “It’s a shitty day. Anniversary. Whatever.” She looks at Beatrice, and just for a moment, Beatrice is pretty sure Ava’s going to cry, but it recedes and she wants to hold her but she’s pretty sure she’s not meant to right now.

“Do you want to talk about it or do you want to eat your feelings?” Beatrice asks, because that’s what Camila usually does in situations like this and Ava laughs, just for a moment, and Beatrice feels like she won something, and Ava has this look on her face like she’s so proud of herself for picking the right person to come to.

“Eating my feelings sounds pretty great. Can you take lunch? Or are you eating at your desk and obsessing about your caseload?” Ava asks. Beatrice does a quick mental review and one day isn’t going to change anything, and she doesn’t have any clients scheduled… And it’s Ava, who never really asks for anything.

“I can take lunch,” she says, dumping her case files into her lock-drawer and logging off the computer. “I might even be able to take a long lunch. We could go to that gourmet burger place that takes an hour to feed you.” Ava rolls her eyes at the older woman.

“Yes, but the burgers are a genuinely spiritual experience, Bea. They are worth the wait,” she reminds her, and Beatrice sighs.

“I stand by the fact that you’re always so hungry by the time that the food comes it tastes better,” she returns, and Ava falls into step beside her as they leave the office, just a little closer than she normally would be, and their arms brush against each other. Beatrice's shoulder falls just behind hers, unconsciously protective, and then consciously, and she loves the way Ava chose her for today, and tries not to be sad that she’s having a shitty day at all.

“Can we eat at the dog park?” Ava asks. And it seems like a really weird request, because why would you want to eat somewhere that dogs are more likely to both poop and steal your food, but Beatrice says yes anyway because when you’re having a shitty day you get to make those kind of choices.

The burgers are, as predicted, a nearly spiritual experience, and way too big to fit inside anyone’s mouth. Ava’s laughing as lettuce dripping with relish thwacks against her chin. Beatrice hands her a napkin, and tries to ignore the sauce running down her arm. Ava hasn’t said anything about it being a shitty day since they left her office, and Beatrice isn't about to make her. But… there’s something about just being with her that she finds therapeutic, and she wonders if it’s the same for Ava. If something in her head gets quieter when Beatrice smiles, like it does for her. The dogs are very interested in their burgers, and they get some weird looks from owners. But mainly the appeal of the dog park for Ava seems to be seeing a cute dog, hitting Beatrice lightly on the arm, and then trying to convince her of the cuteness of said dog. As far as ways to make Beatrice get a dog go, she’s honestly just surprised Camila hasn’t tried it yet.

“Oh my god, Bea, look at him. It’s a schnauzer! Look at his grumpy old man face,” Ava says.

“It’s kind of like a walrus moustache on a dog,” Beatrice says thoughtfully.

“Look at his tail! He’s so happy,” Ava sighs. And then: “Ah! Look at that one - the puppy! It’s a tiny ball of fluff!”

“Yeah, look at it pooping literally its own weight right now,” Beatrice replies. Ava hits her again.

“Okay, look at that sausage dog. Look at it. Look at it’s little face and it’s little feet and it’s little tummy almost touching the ground and tell me that is not fucking cute,” Ava tries. Beatrice is slightly charmed, she admits to herself. But…

“Yeah, look at it’s future back problems and skin rashes. Seriously, the vet bill on that dog is going to be massive. It’s a dog with a lot of problems,” Bea says, blunt, and Ava snorts and bumps her shoulder with hers.

“You are the worst,” she tells Beatrice. “How can you not like dogs? You seem like such a dog person. Okay, but look at that one. That mutt over there that is clearly eight types of dog at least and has the big patch over it’s eye. Look at that dog, walking happily beside it’s owner, and tell me that it isn’t at least a little bit aesthetically pleasing.” Beatrice can’t stop her smile, because it’s Ava, and this is how she wants to spend her shitty day, eating burgers messily and pointing at dogs. With Beatrice.

“See! I knew it! Dog person. You’d adopt some mangy stray like you do with all your human strays and love it forever. Love’s not actually weakness you know,” Ava says, triumphant, and Bea laughs at her.

“Is this part of Camila’s ongoing mission to get me to buy a dog? I keep telling her to get a backyard and get her own dog, but she doesn’t listen,” Beatrice says. Ava shakes her head.

“No, I just like dogs. We had a dog, well, it was Dad’s dog. But after… he used to bark at thunder and I’d get up and sit with him and keep him calm through the night. But, I went to college and couldn’t take him and then Mom just… while I was away she had him put down,” Ava says quietly, looking at the burger mess in her lap instead of anywhere else, and Beatrice feels sick and angry. “I get why, but I didn’t get to say goodbye and it was just another way that she was cutting Dad out of our lives. And Dad was a dog person. He’d have had eight if she’d let him.” Ava looks up at him with a small, sad smile. “It’s… it’s ten years today. Since Dad… since I lost him.” Beatrice nods and puts her arm around smaller shoulders and Ava leans into her. She can tell that Ava’s crying, just a little, but her body’s not moving with it. She wants to tell Ava she can let it out, but that’s not her place, and it isn’t her grief.

“I’m a dog person, too,” Ava says quietly. “There’s just something in me that feels better after I’ve hugged a dog. I miss having one around in my life.” And that’s something that Beatrice understands. For her, it’s that god awful nag champa incense her mother always burned. She keeps a pack of it in the bottom drawer of her kitchen and sometimes when she’s feeling homesick, or misses the good memories, she’ll take a whiff, and then put it away again, and it quiets something in her that nothing else does.

“I get that,” she says softly, and lets Ava be against her, in the moment.