The Vienna Gambit

I wake up to the sound of the rain hitting the window. It’s late Autumn now and the skies are always gray, gloomy. I miss the heat of the summer, lazy days floating in the river, the sun burning my skin while the cold water washes over it. The contrast setting my nerves alight. I groan as I wrestle my eyes open; through the small slits, I see Sam sloppily throwing his clothes on.

“Shit, shit, shit” he mutters, as he fumbles to get his left leg in his pants.

I rub my puffy eyes, coaxing them into opening further. I stayed out too late last night, drank too much gin, and I think, based on my aching head and sandpaper mouth, may have taken a few stray pills. It’s all too murky to remember. Shame rolls over me like a cloud dissipating the warm glow of the sun. Sam had slinked in my dorm around two in the morning after I had thrown my shoes across the room and fallen into bed, still in my tight black slip dress. I can’t remember much after that, but I know we at least had sex by the look of my dress now hanging limply from my desk chair and the sorenessI still feel between my legs. The messy, torrid affair slowly comes back to me in jagged clips. Clumsy and insistent, but I don’t think Sam and I have fucked any other way. I’m not sure we could be tender if we tried.

I sit up straighter in the bed, pulling the sheets up over my chest. “What time is it?” I say, my voice gravelly and strained. I try to clear my throat.

“It’s 7:55, Romy. My class starts in 5 minutes.” He says, roughly. “I fucking fell asleep here last night.” Fully clothed now, except for his shirt that’s clearly inside out, he grabs his jacket and slams the door shut behind him. I roll my eyes and press my face into the pillow. I don’t bother telling him about the shirt.

I get up slowly, my head blaring, seemingly coming up after the rest of my body. My feet are sore from being crushed into heels all night, I can see a blister surfacing on my little toe. I turn on the shower, extra hot, and climb in over the yellowed tub and sit down. The water sputters over me in tight stream soothing my tense muscles; I pour sweet vanilla soap onto my loofah and scrub my skin hard in an urge to erase the guilt of last night from my body.

I make it to my class at 9:35 am. I’m a little early so I pull my wet hair into a tight bun, cinching it with my red hair tie. The rest of the class slowly filters in, the room is broad, an auditorium style classroom. A failed attempt at baroque architecture, clearly missing the point that the Italians understood perfectly. All the grandeur and dramatics, the rich history that envelopes you - makes you feel the beauty, the pain, the love built into all the lavish ornamentation. There is none of that here, in this fluorescent lit room. Just a lackluster horseshoe with red folding seats and carved out balconies. There is no passion here, a disappointment to the art.

“Good morning, discerned students.” Sam bellows from the front of the class. He still somehow managed to look good with his defined beard, tinged with red and short hair. I lean back in my seat, a sense of warmth runs through me, knowing he was in my bed mere hours ago. His eyes cut to me quickly but dart away just as fast. I glance down at his t-shirt, which seems to have been reversed and tucked in professionally. I smile to myself wondering how long it took him to notice and sink down further into my seat, stretching my legs towards the row in front of me. I can hear Sam drone on about the next exam as my eyes flutter closed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Sam is kicking my foot when I awake. I glance around the empty room. “Damn it!” I yell, startled. I shove my books in my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and run down the auditorium steps.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, Romy” Sam shouts, but I’m already out the door.

I storm over to my next class, already late, twirling the wooden chess piece in my pocket. I told myself I wouldn’t forget. I warned myself to not get swept away in the current.

I’m drained by the end of the day, but Sam meets me back in my dorm room. I open the door for him, and he practically slams into my face. He kisses my lips and down my neck, his beard scratches against my skin. He smells clean, like he got to go home and shower, like he had ahome cooked meal with place mats and red wine. I pull at his shirt as we scramble towards the bed, all teeth and skin. We finish in a quick collision of salt and sweat, and I wish we could stay like this. I wish I could lay my head on his chest and drink him in, like he could soothe away all my troubles. But that’s not how we do things and that’s not what this is.

I check the clock - a quarter to eight. I throw my head back on the pillow in a long sigh, my shift starts at nine. I get up, slipping on my work clothes, the usual - black pants, my Crooked Rook t-shirt, and black boots.

I’m pulling on my work shirt when Sam sits up, bringing the duvet up over his lap. “Look, Romy” he says, “we need to end this.”

I pause, my shirt halfway down my stomach, “What?”

“We can’t do this anymore, my wife, she’s starting to get suspicious. When I didn’t come home last night, she started asking questions.”

I scoff. “So, what, you get one more good fuck and then you’re out?”

“Romy, don’t be like that.”

“God, you’re such an asshole.”

“I’m sorry, okay. But we always knew what this was, right?”

I finish pulling on my shirt and quickly slip on my boots. It was never real, none of it. “Fine. Go home, Sam. Go back to your wife and your kids and your perfect fucking house.” I said, anger stirring up inside me.

“It’s not th-

“Just stop.” I interrupt, brashly. “I get it, you got your fix, your little thrill and now you’re done.

It’s fine, you’re right, we both knew what this was.” The illusion shattered, scattering the tiny pieces inside of me to the floor. It was a distraction, a long game of fooling myself.

He came over to me and cupped my cheek, still naked from the way we were entangled moments before. I slap his hand away, tears welling up. “You don’t get to do that anymore. No, actually, you never even did that in the first place. Stop trying to act like I meant something to you.”

I turned around, leaving him standing there, bare in my room, and walked out without looking back.

Shit.

Tears roll down my face as I slosh through the campus. The rain washes them away, leaving only a little bit of redness behind. The only time I’ve been grateful for this season. I’m soaked by the time I get to The Crooked Rook, but I don’t care, it all felt so real this time.

I feel someone come up to the bar. “Hi, what can I get for you?” I say, as I tie my apron behind my back.

“Whiskey, on the rocks” the man replies. His voice rumbled through me, deep, almost unearthly.

I stiffened on instinct; I know that voice.

“With an orange slice and a dash cherry bitters.” I finish, slowly looking up.

“Ah, you remember my order.” He drawls, smiling.

“It’s kind of hard to forget, Vick.”

He slides something towards me. I know what it is before I even look down. The Queen.

Checkmate.

“You’re being called back, Romy.”

To The White Queen.

I shudder, my head sunk low. “I know.” The White Queen operates underneath everything else at the University, silently maneuvering the pieces to work in their favor. They found me my freshman year at the local community college when I needed the money and the security they could provide. At the time, I would have done anything for food and shelter. I would have done anything to get here, and I did. I’ve been working as one of their Pawns ever since.

“Welcome back to the fold, Romy.” Barlowe gleans from the front of the room.

All sixteen of us were centered around the stage. The room was thin and tall, set inside a Gothic building at the south end of campus housing. The early morning light filtered in through the stained-glass windows, the light shimmering in various colors brightening up the dark room. The rain is thundering down now, pelting at the windows as Barlowe speaks.

“So, as everyone knows, Romy was sent to distract Professor Samuel Howe. He was an incredibly easy mark as he has been known to…” he paused, looking for the right word “dabble in the student pool. But with his mind off his academic duty and onto Romy here, we were able to work one of our Knights towards securing his seat on the Board of Directors.” He smiled at me, nodding his head. I look away feeling dirty, ashamed that part of me almost forgot why I was doing this. “While it may have come to an abrupt end, we still got what we needed from it.” I breath out the tension I was holding and look down at my feet, shifting them in the puddle of water and mud underneath me. I glance around at everyone else; they are all clean and dry.

After the debrief, we’re all dismissed. I wander around not knowing what to do with myself. I dedicated the whole last year to this gambit and now I don’t know how to act. My life is back to normal, nothing to ground me here, except for these people. I feel as if I could just float away, out of existence.

“Romy,” that deep voice penetrates through me, pulling me back down. I spin around, my boots squeaking on the tile floor. I find his piercing green eyes immediately, staring at me.

“How’s it feel to be back?”

“Weird, honestly. Felt like I went pretty deep that time.” I admit, ruefully.

“Yeah, I could tell.” He said, almost gloomy.

I looked at him, confusion displayed across my face. He looked down and back up to meet my gaze, running his fingers through his black hair. “I…” he sighs, “I was watching you, making sure nothing too bad happened while you were away.” He shrugs.

“Ah, my Knight in cloaked armor.” I say cheekily, giving him a glint of a smile.

He returned the smile, chuckling at me. “Well, you did a good job out there.”“Thanks.” I say, feeling a little brighter.

“I’ll see you around.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze before he walked away.

Back in my dorm room, I take off my soaked clothes and run a hot shower before collapsing into my bed. I haven’t slept all night, and my aching body feels ragged, boneless. I lay my head on the pillow and pull the sheets up to my chin. I breathe in, it still smells like Sam, remnants of a life that never existed. And tomorrow, I’ll start a new one.