s a u d a d e

for → @catalinastarter​ location & time: cocktail hour at the catalina island country club

“You’d think they serve something stronger than this crap,” Mason mutters, eyeing his drink. “I mean, seriously. Who puts six ice cubes in a glass of whiskey?” 

for → @catalinastarter​ location & time: cocktail hour at the catalina island country club, inside the building

“I’m not hiding!” Lizzie yells, expecting her mother to appear out of nowhere, admonishing her. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were… someone else.” 

@beatrizhartley.

LOCATION: marion’s residence / avalon DATE AND TIME: sunday / 6pm

Marion’s never been much of a cook — a handful of recipes up her sleeve, sure, though she doesn’t quite possess the same repository of knowledge most would associate with people of her age. Which she supposes should be a concern, but then again, she’s lived a bulk of her thirties alone and only ever had to cook for herself. And this is hardly familiar territory, too. She can count the few times she’d brought over friends at her home, and even less so, the friends she’d inadvertently wronged in the past. There’s something to be said about attempting to mend those bridges, she supposes, but her efforts are rusty at best, and her itch to open a drink or two has never been stronger. Far easier to be honest that way. 

Hence, the setup for that night: a generous supply of takeout, by way of noodles and dim sum; some bland title running in the background; and wine, sitting atop the coffee table, in the hopes Bea gets the implicit invitation soon. The last thing she wants is to sabotage her relationship even further with her profoundly terrible cooking and an even more terrible mouth, so she chooses to fill in those gaps of silence with awkward dialogue coming in from whatever Netflix show she’d put on. “So, what’s been going on with you?” She attempts a conversation regardless, and despite their shared seat on the couch, deliberately avoids the other’s eyes, “anything interesting I should know about?” 

— not the most adept at using chopsticks, beatriz stabbed at her dim sum, urging it to suddenly leap into her clutches so she could stop her stomach from rumbling. her attention diverted slightly to the soft, dull blur of the television as she fed herself, also noticing the solitary bottle of wine on the table. there was an air of awkwardness hanging in the air as neither of them seemed brave enough to fill the void of silence — until marion dared to break them free from the cheesy, saccharine dialogue permeating from the tv screen. beatriz felt her heart beat a little faster as she tried to scramble together an answer that was both honest and diplomatic for all sides. though at this point, she is past the point of wanting to be either. “ uh, i don’t know about interesting but mason is still being as stubborn as ever ” beatriz shrugged before taking a small, polite bite of her dim sum, her uncharacteristically sarcastic tone evident. “ other than not getting the one thing i came to this island for, i’m all out. i think i might have to accept the inevitable and adopt a cat colony ” a familiar, self-deprecating laughter caught in her throat as she felt the first-hand embarrassment wash over her. maybe it was simply being in the presence of the older, more mature blonde beauty, whose brother had already made an impression on the brunette but despite the hurt she still harboured since the dissolution of her marriage, beatriz still felt like she was hanging out with an older sister. “ i bet you’re glad you invited me ” a short chuckle as she turned to her friend with a sincere bow-like smile. “ how have you been though, mar? ” her questioning was open and without judgement as beatriz finally poured out her share of the wine.

Ava was more than thrilled to finally catch up with Beatrix; after all, it had been a while, if she remembered correctly, since they last crossed paths. The presence of her friend was enough of a reminder of how much she missed her old profession, although even that seemed like an eternity ago, despite only taking over her aunt’s funeral home over the past nine months. But that was enough time to make all the difference to her life, with the loss she suffered to the people she reencountered upon setting foot back on this island, it seemed as though she had barely taken a break. Deep down, a part of her didn’t want to take a break though; the events that occurred during the course of these few years was enough of a hurricane tearing into her life, and so instead, she chose to keep running, until reality finally caught up on her. But Beatriz was a comforting company, the brunette held nothing but fondness for her friend. Especially with the line of work they worked in, it was easy to find a friend in someone like Beatriz, knowing there was a sense of understanding shared between them.

Ava felt spoilt that her friend had prepared dinner for the pair, having to make herself comfortable was uncommon to her, considering she was more often than not to be found in her own kitchen, finding solace in the activity herself. A soft chuckle fell from her lips at Beatriz’s words, before shaking her head lightly. “I think it’s slightly more concerning that you have the number ready,” She joked, before aroma of their dinner filled her nostrils, smiling lightly as the plates of food was placed before them. “If it tastes as good as it smells, then I’m sure we’re definitely in the clear.” Uncorking the bottle of wine she had brought for tonight, she filled the two empty glasses for the both of them. “Anyway. drink up — I think you deserve it. How have you been, Bea?”

— setting the plates down, beatriz couldn’t help the short, gentle bubble of laughter at her friend’s acknowledgement. “ you’d be surprised what comes out of this kitchen, even gordon ramsay would think he’d walked into a nightmare. i think being on a first-name basis with the guys at poison control is what’s best for everyone ” she assured her as she reached for her newly-filled glass. feeling the aches of the day run down her sides as she picked at her food, she only hoped whatever she cooked would be enough to sate their appetites and provide them some kind of energy-reviving qualities. “ here goes nothing ” she chuckled softly as she took her first bite, letting the flavours collide on her taste buds. not bad for a novice she surmised as she nodded her taking a sip, her brow rose a little as the inevitable trail of questions started to fill the friendly, comfortable air between them. what could she say? she hadn’t expected to be sitting in her own home on the eve of her mid-thirties divorced and alone. the future ahead was less certain for her, less paved with her hopes and dreams. her mind was adrift with what-ifs and what-should’ve-beens. she thought she would be a mother by now, with a blue-eyed babe to look after yet she still wasn’t sure her husband shared the same ideals or if they were like everything else — a hollow promise to keep her by his side. shrugging softly, bea shook her head a little with a knowing smirk. “ i’ve been okay. just being me. nothing to complain about ” apart from the muscular, blonde elephant in the room who seemed adamant enough not to grant her wishes. “ i really needed this dinner tonight though. seriously. if i have to listen to another influencer complain about how bad my contouring is, you might see me on the six o’clock news in an orange prison suit ” she warned ava, a look of faux seriousness illuminating her features. “ but enough about my murderous tendencies, how’re you? i missed our little talks ”.

Lizzie grins, clapping her hands together. Really, she needs more friends like Beatriz who’d let her indulge in the finer things in life: for example, chocolate chip pancakes. “You’re totally right; pancakes it is then,” she says. It isn’t long before the food arrives at their booth, and they both dig in, too hungry and excited at the prospect of food after their quite sweaty yoga class. Minutes pass before Lizzie stops to take a well-deserved sip of coffee, tilting her head slightly as she catches the other’s piercing green gaze. “How are you liking it here, by the way?” She asks, always curious about the outsider opinion of the island.

— Bobbing her head in tune with what her friend and fellow yoga bunny was saying, she felt the corners of her mouth lift into her cheeks as she seemed to agree with her sentiments. It wasn’t often she could go out for something guilt-free and delicious without it coming alongside some less-than positive comments yet with Lizzie, she could happily indulge her more gluttonous side without repercussions. Taking a rather lengthy sip from her coffee, she looked up as their plates of pancakes arrived, pulling out her cutlery from its napkin-shaped prison. “ It’s not Texas, that’s for sure ” She shrugged with a laugh, carving a hole in the middle of the pancakes and pouring the maple syrup through. It was a trick she’d learnt from one of her brothers, the one closest to her in age, which made perfect sense after so many years especially since it helped the sweet syrup get all of the way through the stack. “ I came here to start afresh and move on with my life after Mason ” She hadn’t told her friend much about why she had come to the island but she felt comfortable with Liz, enough to let her in on her dirty, little secret. “ But now I can definitely see the appeal of staying a little bit longer. Especially if the pancakes and company are gonna be this good ”.

Her question caught Aaron a little off-guard, but he didn’t let that phase him, immediately waving over the bartender and dismissing her words. “You’re my first tonight,” was his response, not really supplying her with a proper answer. The truth was, he knew it was better to be doing this with company than alone, so seeing as he’d come to the bar tonight on his own, he was trying to work on that. She just happened to be the first person he’d seen who didn’t look like they’d think he was completely insane. There were plenty of guys around who would think that, he could tell from just one glance —- plus, when he had a little more alcohol in him, his judgement was likely to become a little wonky.

“Another four, please!” he flashed a smile to the bartender, who merely rolled their eyes and laughed, heading off to do what he’d asked. 

— Beatriz couldn’t help the soft chuckle as it bubbled of her rosy glossed lips, twisting to face him a little more in her seat. She hadn’t planned for any situation that involved having drinks with some random guy but with her friends not turning up, she felt obliged to keep another sole patron company. “ Lucky me ” Beatriz smirked as she watched the bartender disappear to get their drinks ready, a little amused at the request. Now she wasn’t the most prolific drinker but that certainly didn’t mean she didn’t know how to hold her alcohol when she was amongst strangers. “ Should I even ask what we’re drinking to? ” She asked, resting her chin in the pillowed curve of her hand. It wasn’t as if she had anywhere to be, her friends were nowhere to be seen and there was no way she was going to take herself home to sit in the dark and consume yet another a lukewarm plate of leftovers.

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh, sure.” He nods a little dismissively before stepping on one of the horizontal metal bars, standing about a good foot taller than her now. “I mean, men will do that to you, you know. Whichever way they swing,” he says, pressing his weight on his hands as they grip the railing. He takes another step before sitting himself down on the top bar to face her. “I just… you know, I think it could be good for you to explore your options, too. There’s enough plenty things in the world for you to share.”

— Beatriz can’t help rolling her eyes, knowing his sentiments had a more than small grain of truth in them. “ Where were you two years ago? Could’ve saved on a lot of tears and emergency sessions with my therapist ” She perches herself on the lowest bar, staring out into the vast ocean landscape. It feels like a honest suggestion yet somehow she can’t get it to stick. She’s been burnt once before, scorched by her husband’s betrayal so she’s built up her walls and shut herself off to the idea of finding someone new. “ Got anyone in mind? ” comes a knot of eyebrows sent in his direction as she twists her body so she’s facing outwards again. “ Do they enjoy long walks on the beach and believe in monogamy? ”.

Mase — the nickname’s always been the chink in his armor, his proverbial Achilles’ Heel. A little sign that he hadn’t ruined every single part of their relationship, even if the consequences of his unseemly actions had been vehement in trying. He’s a piece of shit, he knows better than anyone else, but what was the use of his nickname if it wasn’t a sliver of mercy, offered for his suffering?

And it’s not fair, he knows, for him to say that he has been suffering, when he’s put Bea, willingly, through a magnitude of that for longer — but he’s never been the stronger half. “You… you could never be a nightmare, Bea,” he replies, relishing in the shape of her name on his lips, and he stops to stare, regarding her presence that’d been taken from his a year ago. It isn’t long before he realizes that the silence has stretched on for too long, and he opens his door wider.

“We - we can talk inside, if you want?” A silly part of him hopes, prays that she’s back for him even though he knows that the chances of that are slim-to-none; but nevertheless, he’s always been a man of romanticisms larger-than-life itself.

— Beatriz feels her steadfastness crumble at his words, so soft and tender and eerily similar to the whispered honeyed reveries he had used to set her heart alight. She keeps her body tight, arms folded neatly across the front of her denim jacket as she silently relishes the way he says her name, the perfect monosyllabic chorus echoing in her chest. In the infancy of their relationship, he was hypnotic, the cool, disarming way he carried himself, so sure in his sentiments as if his words are the sated salvation she needed to quell her worried thoughts. Yet now, the determined tempo of her own dogged strides stills into a quiet kind of contemplation until he speaks up again. “ Thank you ” She nods, following him inside his own hallowed sanctuary. As she steals a few glances of the vast, homely interior, she wonders if he’s been paying penance for his sins, whether he suffers the throbbing ache of regret whenever he thinks of her or if he thinks of her at all. These questions leave her wanting more, some semblance of answers that could sate her own contrition, though as the injured party, she can only hope this is some kind of wifely guilt for holding out for so long, waiting for him to change and hoping she would be his saving grace. 

“ How have you been? ”.

LOCATION: Jo + Teddy’s Home DATE/TIME: Sunday, 5pm-ish WITH: @beatrizhartley​

“Come in, come in,” she told the brunette, a dazzling smile gracing her lips as she motioned her inside. “I’m so excited to get started, B,” Jo said, trying out the nickname. Their relationship was still very new but Jo had come to enjoy Beatriz’s company over the past couple months. She especially appreciated having someone around who was so removed from all the family drama she was stuck in the middle of. “We can set up in here,” she explained, as she made her way into the breakfast nook in the kitchen. “I brought a mirror down because I figured the lighting would be so much better here.” Jo motioned to the large windows that surrounded the nook. 

“Thank you for doing this. I know I probably should’ve had all this planned out earlier but at least you’re free on the day so it all works out, right?” she said brightly to her friend, as she grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack in the dining room. “Can I get you a glass?” she asked, twisting the bottle to show her the label. 

— Beatriz smiled brightly as she was welcomed inside Jo’s home, so close to collecting the full set of Halliwells. It felt nice to provide her services for someone who would appreciate them since most of her clients seemed intent on critiquing every step of her technique, especially the rich, entitled brats. “ I’m so happy to be here ” She declared, setting her equipment down and pulling her friend into a warm, tight embrace. It had been a quick incline to the blossoming friendship they had now, it almost felt like it was fated in the stars. She was young, vibrant and everything Beatriz would have wanted to be when she was in Jo’s age. Someone to depend on, who could pave her own path with none of the repercussions yet she couldn’t be unhappy now being in her friend’s luminescent presence. Admiring the light poring in the kitchen, Bea looked over her instruments of ‘beautification’ as she listened to Jo’s apologetic tone, already grinning knowingly. “ Oh, you would be surprised how many girls change their minds seconds before the big event. I’ve learnt to be resilient in those cases if anything comes up that I can’t fix so easily ” She assured her, knowing all too well the pressures of planning a wedding almost single-handedly though she hoped Jo would have a little more success in her marriage than she did. “ Do you have everything else sorted out? Have you said yes to the dress yet? ” came the gentle teasing from the older woman, nudging her friend softly as she chuckled. Months of making girls feel beautiful on their special day had provided Beatriz with enough experience in matrimonial lingo she could probably write a book on the subject — instead she decided to use it on her friend. “ Just a small one, thanks. I had a non-existent salad for lunch so the chances of me getting sloppy are pretty high ”.

@beatrizhartley​.

LOCATION: bea’s residence / lafayette square DATE & TIME: thursday, may 14th / 7am 

Thirty-seven feels like an odd birthday to celebrate. He’s fast approaching that prime age of forty, which he supposes ought to lend him some air of maturity. Yet Rory’s still covered up with that same strange sense of dread, and he loathes to think how much it would increase by the time some midlife crisis inevitably dawns on him. He hadn’t exactly wished to celebrate his birthday as some grand affair (and it wasn’t) but damned if he was going to mope around for the next few days of his leave, either. So, he turns to his one great love—his prized convection oven—and bakes early in the morning. It doesn’t take long for his empty apartment to smell a tiny bit like heaven, though he hardly wishes to welcome the third day he’s thirty-seven with blood sugar problems. 

In any case, if he wasn’t going to minimize his stress-baking any time soon, but he damn sure could mitigate his stress-eating. And so Rory goes next door with a tray of cookies in hand, knocking five times against the wood, in that increasingly quick pace that they both knew best. “I come bearing gifts!” He bellows out, then absentmindedly takes note of the time in his brand-new watch, one of the more pleasant gifts he’d received two nights before. 7 am — not exactly an ungodly hour, but there’s still some threat that Bea wasn’t awake, just yet. “Devil’s food fudge!”

— Seven o’clock seemed like a peculiar time to be awake as a functioning member of the human race yet somehow Beatriz managed to find some gargantuan slither of joy in being up at such a semi-ungodly hour. Slipping out of her bedroom, surprisingly put together for her day of rest though without a lick of make-up on her face, she smirked a little as she heard their personal ‘signal’ struck in unison against her door. They had bonded over their love of the doughier strand of the culinary arts especially in times of great stress and indecision. Exchanging their own awkward tales over a cup of coffee and some kind of delicious confection baked by whoever’s turn it was that week to turn into counsellor, friend and biggest fan. Having made no particular effort to ingratiate herself with the locals, primarily focused on the goal that brought her to the island, Beatriz was pleasantly surprised and encouraged that a friendly offer to help her move in had blossomed into something stronger over time. Hearing those four magic words, her stomach started to rumble from out of nowhere as she started to fumble to let him inside, though it could have been associated with whatever baked goods Rory was hiding behind her front door. Not wasting another moment, Beatriz tugged open her door, softening her mouth into a smile as she leant against its frame, ready to address her guest. “ That’s funny, I was trying to come up with some cute nicknames we could call each other and I think you’ve helped me find yours ” She chuckled softly. Closing the door behind them, Beatriz followed him into the surprisingly tidy living room. “ Do you want some coffee to go with your gifts, birthday boy? ”.

where?: beatriz’s house | lafayette square

when?: sunday, 7pm

— beatriz looked up occasionally from her messy work, her lips curving upward into a gentle smile as she watched her friend closely as she made herself comfortable in her home. she was already looking forward to whatever the night had to offer, knowing all too well that staying at home was nearly as fun as going out for a night on the town. setting her spoon down after a few more stirs, the tomato sauce mixture thickening with every circular motion, she reached for her glass of wine and took a rather large sip. bea sighed deeply, stretching out her back. she’d been cooking for what felt like hours, trying to infer to ava that she had all the stops pulled out for their little reunion. wanting something easy to make since she was more inclined to bake things than actually cook something edible, tonight’s meal happened to be penne arriabata, hence the red splotches of tomato juice all over her once-pristine counters. looking over all her hard work, she hadn’t quite estimated how tired she would be, despite offering to entertain her friend for the evening. still, she persisted as she took the plates to the dining table, hoping the effort would be appreciated and that they could become something close to good friends again. 

“ you should know i haven’t cooked anything properly since two thousand and eighteen so just in case i have the number for poison control on my refrigerator. bon appetit! ”

with   :   beatriz  hartley   (   @beatrizhartley​   ) location   :   mcflanagan’s,  12:19pm

he  know  better  than  to  look  for  lunch  in  lafayette  square  at  noon,  the  sunday  before  memorial  day  —  he  really,  really  does.  but  in  his  steely,  impetuous  reverie,  ben  had  forgotten  to  grocery  shop  for  almost  a  week  and  a  half  solid.  he’s  down  to  :  one  hard  -  boiled  egg,  probably  spoiled  ;  a  half  case  of  heineken  ;  quartered  limes,  from  last  taco  tuesday  ;  and  freezer  -  burnt  moose  tracks,  picked  through  for  the  fudge  bits.

so,  he’s  desperate.  starving.  makes  a  mental  note  to  pick  up  dog  food,  halfway  down  the  tourist  -  overrun,  half  -  sunburnt  and  half  -  day  drunk  street.  he  hesitates  in  front  of  mcflanagan’s,  altogether  intimidated  by  the  throngs  of  people  gathered  at  the  outside  menu,  but  settles  —  better  the  devil  you  know.

of  course,  the  devil  he  knows  is  a  crowded  irish  restaurant  -  bar,  its  already  surly  employees  leveled  to  new  lows  by  the  first  real  rush  of  the  summer  season.  there’s  no  room  at  the  bar,  if  the  non  -  committal  shrug  by  the  hostess  is  any  indication,  leaving  ben  briefly  floundering  just  inside  the  doors  as  parties  of  two  and  three  are  shuffled  past  and  to  their  tables.  a  last  resort,  then,  flickers  past  his  obtusely  frenetic  conscious,  and  he  lifts  himself  onto  the  balls  of  his  feet  to  peer  around  the  locale.  it’s  brimming  with  customers,  of  course,  but  off  to  the  right  and  nestled  against  the  window  is  a  table  for  two,  half  empty  …

heart  rising  in  his  throat  —  he’s  nervous  to  bother  her,  the  pretty  girl  sitting  on  her  own,  despite  the  sheer  tenacity  that  carries  him  to  her.  in  all  likelihood,  she’s  waiting  for  someone  :  a  friend,  a  date.  her  brother.  but  what’s  the  worst  that  can  happen  ?  he  sidesteps  a  waitress,  apologizing  as  the  toe  of  his  shoe  catches  her  heel,  and  then  approaches  the  table  with  a  surprising  amount  of  confidence  at  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  ‘  hey,  sorry  to  bother  you  —  but  is  there  any  chance  i  can  sit  here  ?  ’  he  motions  to  the  empty  chair,  brow  knitting  with  a  certain  level  of  humble  self  -  consciousness.  a  lighthearted,  hopeful  smile,  ‘  lunch  is  on  me  …  ?  ’

— escaping the afternoon stampede associated with the island and the busy weekend ahead, beatriz sought refuge in the nearest eatery, her stomach rumbling in time with the ‘click clack’ of her heeled steps it seemed. her eyes darted toward the nearest, unoccupied booth and her good sense and quick footing sent her there. secluded and impenetrable to any novice traveller, she felt safe to assume noone would oust her from the best spot in the place, already setting down her sunglasses, purse and phone on the table. her appetite raging, thin, bejewelled fingers sans wedding band, slid the menu from its place, desperate for something to sate her cravings. before she could make her selection, a voice, distinctly warm and honeyed, cut through her fantasies and made its case. flicking up golden caramel strands, curling some behind her ear as she looked into the face of the disturber of her peace, his sinatra-esque eyes catching the dim light above them as if they were enough of a reason to sacrifice her solitude. “ mhm, go ahead, it’s a little busy, huh? ” she assures him with a gentle, courteous smirk, encouraged by the earnest humility radiating from him. intrigued by this new development to what was going to be a nice, normal day, beatriz instinctively slid one leg over the other, tucking her body in a little to accommodate the new arrival. her attention fixed on him, sweet yet deliberate, she couldn’t help the soft trill of laughter as he naively posed his favour in exchange for a seat at her table, not knowing the consequences. “ are you making me an offer i can’t refuse? ” came her question, dripping in playful intent. “ what do we do if i want everything on the menu, including the specials? ”.