Easy Living
Disclaimer: Characters (and my wasted gay soul) belong to Patricia Highsmith.
Therese walked toward her.
In a moment, she was beside Carol. She stood, and politely embraced Therese with a pair of kisses, one on either cheek. She was still smiling, but remembered herself and the presence of the gentleman across from her, and composed.
"Dull party after all?" Carol asked as a waiter brought over a place for Therese. She ordered a scotch for herself.
"Dispersing. Though I did manage to get a job out of it. I've an appointment at Harkevey's office at 11:30 tomorrow."
"What a thrill!" Carol and Therese, Carol in particular, were struggling to channel their inner excitement into the context of the moment. The man sat silently, debating how much longer he would stand being ignored.
"And who might this enchanting creature in the black dress be, Carol?" he asked.
"Oh how terribly rude of me. Roger, this is my friend, Ms. Therese Belivet." Carol allowed just enough isolation to the word "friend" that it made Therese look at the man to see if he noticed. He did not. Or if he did, he did not register it in his face. She extended a hand to him, he took it and gave it a small kiss, accompanied by a wink.
"You're terrible. Therese, this is Roger Davies. An antiquities buyer and the most impossible flirt I've ever known."
They laughed. Therese was unsure if she was permitted to. Roger sensed this and placed a friendly hand on her arm.
"Don't worry. You're not in any danger, my dear." He winked again. Carol looked from Roger to Therese knowingly, but Therese was still not caught up. At that moment, the waiter returned with fresh cocktails, and as he walked away and Therese noticed Roger's lingering glance, the very same sort of glance she had given Carol many times and that Genevieve Cranell had only an hour ago given her, she understood.
"So what fills your days, Therese?" Roger asked. As she went to answer, she felt Carol's heel brush her leg beneath the table. She did not risk a glance to catch Carol's eye, and assumed it had been accidental simply for the sake of seeing the evening through. If Carol's plan was to torture her until she could no longer stand the presence of company, she would easily succeed. Instead, Therese leaned in toward Roger.
"I'm a stage designer." She answered, taking a healthy sip of her scotch.
"Of course you are. What of your work would I have seen?"
At this she felt a pang of embarrassment. She still had not done anything of considerable note outside the smaller circles of New York theatre. But even as she gave herself this assessment, she could feel the piece of her that would have sat silently before saying "Oh, nothing" fall away. She was no longer to be in the habit of selling herself short, of denying any part of who she was. She had made that decision once and for all the moment she had entered the Elysee to find Carol.
"It all depends. I've just started some television work, and I did the sets for a play called Small Rain this past winter, you might have seen something in the papers."
"Oh yes, I'm sure I did." Whether or not he was lying for the sake of being agreeable, neither of them cared.
"And I've just secured a position working on sets for the new play starring Genevieve Cranell. Under Ivor Harkevey. In fact I've just come from a party celebrating her arrival."
She felt impressive, a young woman about the town with famous company. She wished she had a cigarette at that moment to complete the picture. Her, sitting cross-legged at a dimly-lit corner table sipping scotch in an elegant, tight black dress, the woman she loved beside her. She glanced at Carol, who seemed enchanted. She knew how much Carol loved when she showed off, and now that she was this new, confident self, she enjoyed Carol's look of wonderment. It was subtle, one of her looks that only she could truly detect, and beneath it lay a clear and impatient hunger. She wanted to kiss her right then. Instead, she adjusted her slim legs beneath the table and allowed her own heal to caress Carol's ankle. And the look she gave her to accompany the gesture dispelled any question of its deliberateness.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment." Carol stood from the table and made some excuse for the powder room. When Therese moved her eyes to Roger, he was sporting a smile that gave the impression he was very pleased to finally have her alone.
"So, Ms. Belivet with the cool black dress and terribly interesting career, why do I get the feeling that those two facts are perhaps the least interesting things about you?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, darling. I've only known our friend Carol for a few weeks now, but…one recognizes one's kin."
Therese felt a sudden and incredible blush overcome her. She had never been spoken to about Carol this way, certainly not by a man, though she had never met a man of Roger's persuasion before, not that she was aware of, at least.
"Don't mistake me, my dear. This is no interrogation."
"Are you certain of that?"
He laughed. "All I mean is - the whole point of life on this sad little earth is for someone to look at you the way she did when you walked into this room. Relax, my dear. You are among friends." Therese smiled. She decided then that she adored this man and hoped they would stay great friends. He raised a glass.
"What are we toasting?" she asked.
"To you." Roger clinked their glasses and took the last sip of his martini. Carol returned. Therese, swept up in the conversation of the last moment, gently squeezed her hand above the table. It startled Carol, who betrayed a quick smile to Therese and then a glance to Roger, who winked his approval. It was a small beat of contact, but it was enough to make both Therese and Carol determined to end the evening sooner rather than later.
"So tell me all about this famous actress you've just come from celebrating. I've read wonderful things about her. She seems terribly glamorous." Roger said.
Therese thought for a moment. She wondered if even discussing Genevieve Cranell would inspire something in Carol - jealousy, or something less or more. She would say nothing of the feelings or glances they exchanged unless it was for some strange reason demanded of her, but she was curious if Carol, who knew her best of all, might see through the polite conversation.
"Yes, terribly glamorous." She decided she would not offer any description of her own, only affirm or reiterate adjectives assigned by Roger.
"English, yes?" Carol asked.
"Yes."
"Did you get to speak with her at all?" said Roger.
"Oh - yes. But only very briefly."
Carol was watching her, she could feel it. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she could sense her eyes on her lips, in a manner that was waiting for some morsel of information that would sway her opinion of Genieve Cranell one way or the other.
The evening carried on for another hour or so. Roger and Carol took supper, but Therese found herself uninterested and incapable of eating. By the time the check came, which Roger took care of despite their protests, Therese found herself somewhere approaching drunk. Not so much that she felt embarrassed in front of Carol, but enough that the slightest glimpse of exposed skin beneath's Carol's red scarf made her almost irate at the realization they were not in fact, in private company.
The trio parted at the sidewalk. Roger kissed them each goodbye. Carol offered to give him a ride somewhere but he declined and intimated he was waiting for a friend. Therese glanced back through the door and noticed their waiter saying his goodnights to the hostesses. Carol smiled at Roger and leaned in to give him a farewell embrace.
"You're a dog," she said, loud enough for Therese to hear. They laughed.
"You must come round to see us once the place is put together," Carol offered, and suddenly Therese, who had been so caught up in the pleasantness of the dinner, had forgotten the most blissful fact of all: she and Carol were at last together. More than that, they would be living together. She caught herself with a dumb smile.
"Oh of course my darlings. And Carol, if you need a professional's eye for the nick-nacks, I've got some lovely French baroque pieces for you to take a look at."
"I'll ring you tomorrow. You'll be in at the store?"
"With bells on."
The waiter emerged from the restaurant and stepped toward Roger. He looked to Carol and Therese, realizing they were mid-conversation.
"Sorry to interrupt. Shall we?" he said to Roger. "Will you ladies be joining us?"
Before Carol or Therese could make excuses, Roger spoke up. "Oh no. They've got very important business of their own," offering the waiter one of his signature winks. The waiter, understanding, looked back at the women and smiled in a way that took Therese's breath away for a moment. It was filled with the acknowledgment of their communal secret. She felt herself step outside of her body to look at the foursome standing silently on the sidewalk, connected by an evening's conversation and a lifetime's understanding of the truth they shared. She had never felt so proud to stand at Carol's side.
"Bon nuit, my dears." Roger and the waiter disappeared up Park Avenue.
And at last, Carol and Therese were alone on the sidewalk. Therese watched after Roger and the waiter for a lingering moment, until they made their way around a corner two blocks ahead. She turned and was struck by the sight of Carol, who was staring at her. Her expression was one she had never seen on Carol before, and the closest term she had for it was disbelief, or perhaps more simple still, love. Therese smiled back, and her smile was a promise; a promise that yes, she was real, yes, she was here, and yes, she was going to stay.
"So you changed your mind?" Carol broached.
"Not changed; remembered." And that was all Therese wanted to say about it. At least for now. The air was chill and crisp on their faces. Her bare legs felt the wind bite them as the hour turned to 11:00.
"Would you like to see the apartment? Or shall I take you home." The second part of Carol's question was an obvious formality. Her apartment uptown now felt no more than a place she used to sleep.
"All I know is I'm tired of strangers tonight." Therese said with that new confident voice that had been knocking Carol out since their tea that afternoon.
"All right, then." Carol led her to the car. They silently drove the few blocks to the building. Therese heard the sound of the beer can underneath her but only smiled to herself.
They found a parking spot just across the street from Carol's building. It was an impressive place, classic, and seemed to exist out of time among the more modern constructions around it. Just like Carol, Therese thought. She followed the older woman across the street. They did not speak, each of them lost in their own private thoughts of one another, of the miracle that had taken place tonight in the form of Therese's decision, marking the success of the most difficult gamble Carol had ever made in her life.
The night doorman nodded a greeting to Carol and Therese. Carol led her to the elevator, the apartment was on the second-to-top floor - Carol had pointed out the terrace from the street. They slowly walked down the hallway until they approached the door.
"You'll have to forgive the emptiness of it. I'm still bargaining my time as a buyer for the store and myself. Besides, there's plenty of furniture still to arrive from the house. And of course anything of yours you'd like to bring…"
Carol stopped, realizing Therese was not immediately at her side. Therese stood in the hallway a few paces back, halted as the realities of it all at last began catching up with her. Carol looked to her, her eyes curious and slightly afraid.
"Carol," Therese began, her voice steady, her mood quiet, "I don't want to talk about furniture."
Carol smiled. It was that soft smile that Therese loved, that she felt was hers alone. Carol opened the front door of her apartment and stepped inside. Therese followed, and Carol shut the door behind them. Slowly, before turning on any lights, Carol took the few steps toward Therese and kissed her. It was matter-of-fact and gentle, like placing the seal on a love note.
Carol pulled away. "Better?"
She still had on her smile. Therese returned it. "Yes."
It was a magnificent place. High ceilings, windows leading out to an expansive terrace that overlooked Madison Avenue. The kitchen and living room were open and inviting. A door down a hall to the right presumably led to the bedroom, with a washroom adjacent in the hall. Carol was right, there was hardly any furniture in the place. The kitchen was coming together, and she could see the makings of a bar on one side of the living room. Carol walked toward it and poured them each a brandy after shedding her fur coat and hanging it on the hook near the door. Therese shed hers, revealing again her dress. She walked toward the kitchen and leaned against the counter where three stools sat idly, waiting to be occupied in an apartment heretofore only occupied by one individual. She observed Carol, the way she swept her hair to one side without any thought, the way she bent over the liquor bottles to pour out their drinks, and Therese had to wonder how conscious the woman was of how her movement registered to her watchful, yearning eyes. But she knew Carol enough to know she never did anything by accident.
Carol approached her with the glass. Therese assumed she was deliberately avoiding leading her to the bedroom, and was more than happy to play the game with her.
"Red pajamas or blue?" Carol asked. Therese only laughed and took a sip of her brandy. She stepped away from Carol and slowly, every step a measured, chosen twitch of muscle, walked down the hall in the direction she knew the bedroom to be. She felt Carol's eyes on her. And could almost hear her tempered breath, so still and silent they were. The door was open. Therese stood halfway into the room and leaned against the threshold, sipping her brandy and looking at Carol in a way that would have been unrecognizable on the girl she was only a month ago.
"What do you think of this dress?"
Carol let out a single, clear laugh, like a bell. Therese smiled wide. Carol's eyes traveled up and down her body, assessing the younger woman and the changed, mysterious creature she had become. She took the last sip of her brandy with a powerful swig.
"I told you. You look very fine." She began walking toward Therese. "It must have been quite an extravagance."
"Quite an extravagance," Therese confirmed with a coy smile.
"You're never to buy a dress like that for yourself again, do you understand?" Carol tried to feign sternness, but her eager grin betrayed her.
"Why shouldn't I? I'm perfectly capable," Therese answered. By now, Carol was at the door of the bedroom. She stood opposite Therese, and extended her arms slowly, placing her hands on either of Therese's hips.
"Because that's my province," Carol said. She pulled Therese toward her. Therese quickly motioned to kiss her, but Carol pulled away, a teasing smile cloying at her lips. Then, slowly, in a way that made Therese want to burst, she moved her lips to Therese's left ear and whispered words that felt like phantoms in her memory: "What would you like?"
Therese felt her legs nearly buckle beneath her, but Carol's grip held her waist tight. Their faces moved so they were once again eye to eye, only inches between them. Therese fell for a moment into the depth of Carol's grey stare. Now, it was her turn to lean into Carol's ear.
"Anything," she whispered. And she gave Carol a soft kiss just beneath her earlobe at the top of her neck. She felt the shiver it sent through her. Slowly, Therese's lips traced their way down Carol's neck to her shoulder, slightly exposed by the cut of her blouse. Carol caught her face in her hands and pulled their gaze back to one another. Therese could see the change in her eyes, one that recognized the change in her.
Therese was no longer the cautious, delicate lover she had been out West. Her desire was real and present, and she needed Carol to understand that the years and experience between them were less important than they ever were. They were equals now, standing on the other side of the great summit of obstacles that had lain before them, triumphant and together. There was no need for the hesitation that had come from the fear of prying eyes. This was their home. Their bedroom. Their future before them.
Therese had half a mind to repeat her love to Carol, but words were useless now as they so often were between them. Carol crushed her lips against Therese's in a wave of a kiss. Only their instinct led them now, as Carol's hands traveled to the back of Therese's dress and cloyed at the zipper. Therese untucked Carol's blouse from her trousers and began making due with the buttons. Their lips parted only for a moment, and they allowed themselves a giddy smile.
Moving in to the bedroom, Carol made fast work of Therese's dress. When the garment had been disposed of, Therese's movements slowed. She led Carol to the bed and sat her down. Carol smiled, again bewitched by this new and remarkable creature that bore a resemblance to the girl she had first fallen in love with, now a woman with whom she was excited to reckon.
Therese did not speak. She stood before her lover in the darkness, only the light of the street and the moon shining through the window. And she allowed Carol to admire her, nude save for the black undergarments that remained. And slowly, one motion at a time, she removed them. Carol sat still, unblinking, but never taking her eyes from Therese's. Finally, the young woman stood naked before her, and Therese, anticipating Carol to drag her down into the sheets with her in a fury of lust, was surprised to find Carol's eyes beginning to fill with tears.
Therese dared not speak, fearing she had upset her. Nor did she move, so strange was the moment. Carol stood and took two rather reluctant steps toward Therese, as if she were something she feared to touch lest she break it. But she approached nonetheless, until finally they were close once more. Carol, her eyes now glimmering in the cool blue half-light, kissed Therese slowly, tenderly.
"Flung out of space."
She caressed Therese's cheek with her right hand. Her left found itself again at her hip. Therese held Carol's hand to her face and closed her eyes. She kissed it.
"I love you." Therese repeated.
Carol rested her head against Therese's with a soft smile. "I love you."
The women kissed once more. Soon, they were both in bed, tangled up in one another's arms, Carol's clothes haphazardly flung to the other side of the room. Their room. Their bed. Therese could still hardly believe it. She felt herself getting swept up by Carol once again. But tonight, she wanted things to be different. She wanted to show Carol the full extent of her love, of her gratitude and understanding for the magnitude of sacrifice Carol had made in order to be here tonight with her, the first of a lifetime's worth of nights just like it. And so with each movement of Carol's, each touch, each gasp she elicited from her, Therese matched it, until they were both of them caught together in the swell of emotion and transcendent passion that was unlike anything they had known since perhaps that very first night in Waterloo. They were one, every crescendo rising and falling together. A symphony of sensation, touch, and instinct. And when they reached the place beyond thought, they were there together, in the same moment, and saw past each other's eyes into that far off stretch of space that they knew only they themselves occupied and ever could occupy. The beauty of it, so far outside the limits of their language and consciousness, their heads touching, their eyes, hearts, and very souls connected, the tears came quickly and beyond their control.
Finally, they returned to the present of the bedroom, but did not dare move an inch from each other's embrace. This time, it was Therese who held Carol close, her blond hair only slightly affected by sweat, resting on her breasts. Their breath in sync as their bodies had just been. It was an experience of such purity, of such total communion between them, as Carol had described in her letter, and Therese truly did wonder why anyone would prefer anything other than this. Carol was love. Carol was home. In this place they would share together. And as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, Therese knew she would never sleep without her again.