Beatrice buys Camila a keychain with a merlion on it, merely adding to the collection of trinkets she's gathering for their friend. Ava is sufficiently fascinated by the mythical creature, half mermaid half lion.
"It's basically me," she says, smiling in wonder.
"Sure thing, Ava," Beatrice easily agrees. They've spent the day looking at birds, and then spent the early evening watching the most amazing water and lights show, which basically means that Ava is starving. Beatrice could go for a big bowl of noodles right about now, as well, which is what they end up doing.
"Do you think I'll ever get the hang of chopsticks?" Ava asks, eyes a little wide when their respective bowls arrive at their table. They're roughly the size of their heads, filled to the brim, and Beatrice wonders if they'll actually be able to finish.
"One day, I'm sure," Beatrice tells her. "With more practice."
"I'll make sure to keep you around to check if I'm doing it right."
"I do have my uses."
Ava's foot slides across the floor until it's pressed to one of hers. "Next time I need my hair washed, hmm, I'll definitely remember that."
Beatrice can't help her blush, the reminder of their shower escapades casually brought into conversation. "We wasted a lot of water."
"Imagine if we were doing something else in there."
"Ava."
She smiles, deeply pleased with herself. "You turned a little dangerous there, you know," she says. "Got me all hot and bothered, and you weren't even trying."
"Your skin is so soft."
Ava's smile widens. "It loves your hands," she says. "I love your hands."
Beatrice forces herself to take a breath, lifting her spoon with her left hand to sip some broth. "How are you feeling about leaving here?" she asks.
Ava presses her lips together in thought. "Should I be feeling any such way?"
"Not really."
"I'm keen for our next adventure, definitely, but it has been nice here," she says. "It's like a lovely mix of cultures. Can't quite figure it out."
"There's a lovely mix where we're going next, as well," Beatrice points out, and she isn't even wrong. Any country with eleven official languages is going to have a hotpot of identities to reconcile.
Though, admittedly, when they do arrive in Johannesburg, South Africa, the biggest thing on their mind is working through their jet lag. A six hour difference takes at least a day and a half to get over, but then Ava is on a mission.
It doesn't take Beatrice long to realise Ava quite likes this place. She loves the food, and the people. She loves the fact that they drive on the left side of the road, and she absolutely adores how much of a cultural pot they're in.
"This place is the friendliest place we've ever been," Ava declares, the two of them finding a table in a Starbucks at a place called Sandton City. "Why are they so nice?"
Beatrice suspects any answer she comes up with could include an entire history lesson about the country's political past. "Maybe they just are."
Ava looks across at her, sipping her matcha white mocha latte. "You don't look as tired," she points out.
"Thank you."
She grins. "But still insanely gorgeous."
Beatrice leans back, looking around. There truly is quite a mix of people around them, every kind of person, young and old, alone and in groups, and Beatrice is just going to enjoy it.
They have plans, now that they've acclimated, mainly to the time difference and the change in weather. There's an amusement park they want to visit, intent on touring the old gold mines as well. Then there's a trip to Sun City scheduled, Ava trying and failing to convince Beatrice to play golf - which won't happen. And then they're going to the Kruger National Park, which Ava is the most excited about. Between the two of them, they've seen very little in terms of wild animals, and it's an experience Beatrice is especially keen for.
But first, they're here at Nelson Mandela Square, the two of them exploring in one of those quiet, lazy ways that makes Beatrice want to grab onto the moment and not let go. For now, she grabs onto Ava, sliding her hand onto Ava's leg and just resting it there.
Ava smiles, happy and free, and it's the most beautiful thing Beatrice has ever seen. "You're honestly my favourite person in the world."
It's unexpected, and Beatrice lifts her eyebrows. "What did I do?"
"You exist."
"Hmm."
Ava puts her hand over Beatrice's on her leg. "Tell me something."
"Okay."
"What is your name?"
Beatrice laughs, shaking her head. "Don't tell me you haven't actually peeked at my passport."
"I swear I didn't," she says. "It's why I'm asking."
"What would it change if you knew?"
Ava grins. "Well, then I'd know what to scream in the throes of ecstasy," she says, enjoying getting to scandalise Beatrice a little too much.
Beatrice attempts to take her hand back, but Ava holds on tightly.
"No," she says. "Stay. I want you to touch me."
Beatrice audibly swallows. "Beatrice is the name I took when I entered the novitate," she explains. "It's the time you typically get assigned a name. Sometimes, you can suggest one, so I suggested Beatrice."
"Why?"
Beatrice fights her blush. "I felt like I was locked up, before," she says. "Me, as a person. Whom I was. This person who so many people tried so hard to hide from the world. When I started looking at Saints, she came up. Beatrice da Silva, the patron saint of prisoners."
Ava stares, and then blinks one, two, three times. "Did you say Beatrice da Silva?"
Beatrice drinks from her cappuccino, not daring to speak.
"Bea," Ava says, leaning forward. "Silva."
"Yes."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"We were meant to be."
Beatrice leans forward as well, the two of them getting alarmingly close. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Don't you?" Ava counters.
Beatrice kisses her cheek. "I believe many things," she says, and then moves back. "Do you really want to know my name?"
"Only if you want to tell me."
Beatrice gives it some thought, trying to decide how she would feel if Ava knows. It isn't some big secret. It's just that Beatrice is her name now. The person she was before she took her first vows doesn't exist. She likely never will again.
"Tell me on our wedding day," Ava tells her, smiling. "Yeah. When we get married, tell me then."
"That's awfully presumptuous of you."
"I like to think it's hopeful of me."
Beatrice squeezes her leg, getting another smile. "Deal," she finally agrees, and decidedly doesn't think about the implications.
