The Changing Season: When Gladys is Late
When Gladys didn't show up around eight o'clock, Carol tried to shrug it off. She took to her room, leaving her window peaked, waiting longingly for the sound of a slow rolling car.
What had gotten into her these days?! Carol thought to herself. Gladys and Carol had always done everything together, ever since their first year at school when they were sat together in Mrs. Hinkson's class. At snack time Carol gave Gladys her cookie and since then they had been the greatest of friends, always taking care to look out for one another, always making sure to save the other a seat and lend a comforting hand, they were practically sisters.
But now with this new job and the war on, Gladys was changing. She was changing so much and Carol had no clue on how to follow her lead.
"Where are you Glady…" Carol said to herself, leaning on the window sill and staring far off into the distance. Carol's street looked abandoned but an unsettling wind rustled the trees, stripping them of their leaves. When they were kids, Gladys and Carol used to play on this street. On one October day Carol recalls collecting Gladys from up off the curb after she had fallen from her bike and scraped her knee up badly. Carol's parents hadn't been home so Carol acted the nurse. She used one of her mother's fancy dining chairs to help her climb up into the medicine cupboard and grab down the alcohol and the bandage supplies that her father kept high up and out of reach. She remembers this well because Gladys had accidentally touched the chair with her knee and the stain could still be seen if you knew where to look for it. Luckily her parents never noticed.
That day, Gladys had been crying and Carol knew just what to do. She told Gladys that she was lucky she had gotten hurt when she did because she was secretly a trained nurse, undercover and always prepared. Being so impressionable, Gladys believed her right away and the tears dried up quickly. They were replaced with amazement and intrigue, the kind of awe that can only be felt as a child.
Sometimes Carol wonders if perhaps it's her fault that Gladys is so head-strong and inventive. As they grew older, Carol grew out of tall-tales. Her father was strict and he often chastised her, calling her a child well into her teen years. Reality was colder but it would have to do if she ever wanted to please him. With her mother being so perfect she always felt inadequate, like she was doing everything wrong all of the time.
A sound came at the door, a small knock, waking her from her daydream. Carol stood up nervously, straightening the front of her dress with her hands and twisting the ring on her finger, the one that Gladys had bought her in Paris as a gift, the one that she never took off if she could help it. She didn't know why but Gladys had been making her nervous. It was almost like she didn't know her anymore. Carol was in no way prepared to be losing her best friend.
"Honey?!" It was her mother at the door, Carol relaxed.
"Oh mother, you don't have to knock."
"I know how you girls are now a-days… have you got a minute?" Carol's mother was beautiful. Nearly twice Carol's age she still looked surprisingly young and vibrant. Often Carol was mistaken for her mother, an awkward occurrence that Carol became less embarrassed about as she got older. It was hard to be embarrassed once she realized how stunning her mother really was and how many people envied her for that.
Carol watched her mother cross into the room and sit down in the chair in front of her vanity. The nightgown she wore looked brand-new, a take-away from their last shopping adventure in Paris. Carol couldn't remember ever seeing her mother wear it before, despite how long ago their Paris trip had been.
"I wish my hair was still as beautiful as yours." Carol's mother reminisced, staring at herself in the mirror and glancing at her daughter in the glass who was sitting behind her on her bed, watching silently just as she had done as a child.
"Mother, your hair has always been beautiful."
"Yes but, look how yours shines, just naturally." Carol's mother stood up, walking over to Carol and taking a strand of her hair up into her fingers, twisting it and feeling how healthy it was. Carol looked up at her bashfully. She never really believed her mother when she said these things. Her mother was so beautiful that it was hard to even relate to her. She didn't see the resemblance that so many others picked up on, and she was sure she never would. How could she compare to the timeless beauty in front of her, the woman who had always done everything right, never making mistakes, and always looking like a movie star, never a hair out of place? Everyone loved her mother, everyone.
"I thought Gladys was coming over tonight." Her mother mentioned, changing the subject, a longing look on her face. She often looked dreamy like this. Since she was so beautiful people didn't find that to be crazy or odd, they would describe Mrs. Demers as "supremely enchanting." Funny how when you're beautiful even crazy becomes endearing.
"I thought so too.." Carol said, looking a lot like her mother. Her eyes drifted off towards the open window where only the wind could be heard in the night.
"I remember being young… losing friends…" Carol had no idea where this was coming from but her mother's voice made her body stiffen. How could she have any idea what had been going on between her and Gladys. Carol barely saw her mother and Gladys hadn't been around enough to be surveyed and sussed out. Carol felt instantly uneasy.
"Losing friends?" She answered, trying to act disinterested. She played with her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the window, trying to pretend that she wasn't waiting around, that she didn't care where Gladys was, that everything was fine and normal, and grand.
"I had a best friend once. We were just like you and Gladys, close as two people can be, we did everything together… I took care of her when we were little." Carol's mother looked back at her and smiled sadly. She saw a lot of her daughter in her, Carol's spirit was almost identical to her own and she wished only that her daughter would be more open with her and tell her things every now and then. She started to brush her hair in the mirror. "When we got older things changed… my best friend started taking care of me.. until one day when she left." She dropped the brush in her lap and stared down at it sorrowfully. Carol didn't know what to say.
"Why did she leave?"
"She met someone, a man. He took care of her then…" Carol's mother looked so sad. Carol watched her face in the mirror but it did not look up from the brush. There was so much sadness in that face and Carol's mother was hardly ever gloomy. Dreamy yes, but downcast was not her way. "I loved her you know?"
"Of course you did, mother. She was your friend." Carol's mother was a little upset. She turned around in her chair, the hairbrush still in her hand. When she faced Carol her eyebrows shifted into a look of consternation, a look of almost anger.
"No. I mean… I think I was in love with her…" Carol stared on, not knowing what to do with this foreign look of pain on her mother's face. If she didn't know any better she might think that her mother was about to weep. Her mother turned away again, losing the anger. "I didn't know it, not then. I didn't know why I was so hurt. Why I had been so upset about her finding love. I had accused her of leaving me, of changing. But I had changed…" Carols' heart began to race.
"But you can't have been in love with her. You love daddy. You're not a deviant. You've never been interested in girls like that." Carol's mother turned around quickly. Running the brush through her hair slowly and returning her face to its previous state of sorrowful longing, she tried not to hear the words that had come from her daughter's mouth almost coldly.
"Love isn't easy, sweetie. It's complicated. But I'm telling you now; I was in love with that girl. We spent a whole life-time together, just like you and Gladys. When she left, she took a piece of me with her. It's almost like she broke me."
"What do you mean about Me and Gladys?! And what about father?!" Carol asked, upset. She didn't like to hear her mother talk this way. Her mother was always honest with her, always open about everything. She was always the free spirit among mixed company, the one who made everyone feel comfortable. Her father was the strict one, the insistent one. He always urged Carol to be more ladylike and dignified. Carol's mother never minded much what Carol did, always praising her and recognizing her beauty and her spirit. But this was too much, what was she insinuating?! And why was she telling her all this in such a strange way at such a strange time?!
"I love your father, you know that."
"But-"
"It's complicated sweetie. This is my life now. That was my life then."
"I don't understand." Carol relented, letting go of her anger and confusion. She could never be mad at her mother; there was never a valid reason for it, not even this reason.
"That's alright. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever, sweetie. At this rate it feels like summer will never end." Carol was appeased by her mother's attempted excuses. She didn't mind a little honesty; she didn't mind any conversation that her mother was willing to have with her. Her mother was so busy that she often found herself missing her, even in situations where they were in the very same room.
Carol turned her head towards the window and soon a familiar sound peaked her interest. Mrs. Demers watched her daughter run to the window, following the sound, leaning over the sill to look down at the street. Her excitement was obvious and it flustered her mother, insighting those sad feelings of hope that she remembered having in her youth.
"It's her, isn't it?" Her mother asked, half smiling, her face so heavy now, it hurt. Carol had never noticed that her mother held such sorrow within her, such regrets.
"Yes mother, it's Gladys." Carol said, walking away from the window, meeting her mother who had stood up from the vanity. Carol held her mother's hands and they both searched each other fleetingly, squeezing each other's hands and taking the time to mentally archive this moment. "Don't be sorry, I'm glad you told me." Carol said, truthfully. As strange as the story was, it was something she never knew about her mother, something she wanted to know, no matter what it meant and what it would change in the future.
"You girls have fun now… Your father has a brunch in the morning. I'll be busier than a bee!" Carol kissed her mother's cheek, pulling her in for a hug.
"I love you mother… And I'm sorry.. about your friend."
"Love you too, sweetie." Carol let go, watching her mother drift off down the stairs. She left the door open slightly and it was dark in the hall. My God what was that? Carol thought to herself, shaking. Her hands were trembling now and she held them out in front of herself and shook them to try and ease the sickening feeling that was rising within her. When her hands refused to stop their shaking she nervously twisted her ring a few times.
She turned to the window again, unsteadily. Outside a car door slammed shut and Carol could hear heels on the walk. She was sure it was Gladys, her good friend. She thought about what her mother had just said and about the way she had been feeling right before her mother had come in. This certainly wasn't good.
The thought of spending a night with Gladys was no longer appealing to her and she wanted to be ill. She wanted to send her away, back into the night from whence she came. This girl who had been her companion for over ten years, this girl who now said 8 but meant 9, who said yes but meant maybe, everything about Gladys had been hurting her lately. What if Gladys was getting ready to up and leave her, just like her mother's friend did, just like most friends did?
A knock came at the door and Carol listened from her room. She could hear Glady's voice, so grown up now, so certain of its words all the time. Carol wished that she could be certain again. She wished that their rolls could be reversed, that now she could be Glady and Glady could be her. But mostly she wished that she wasn't feeling this way, mostly she wished to feel normal about things. She wanted to be happy for Gladys and for James. But she knew that it wasn't James who had bothered her, it wasn't James at all. What bothered Carol was the others. The women at work who Glady had become so fascinated with, it was them whom Carol could not help but loathe. But she knew she shouldn't feel this way. She knew her jealousy was childish but she still couldn't stop it, they were stealing her away.
"Carol?!" Her mother's voice came from the bottom of the stair, calling her down to greet Gladys, calling her down like things were not different even though, she had known as well as her mother, things had changed completely.
Carol ran to the bathroom, sick with these overwhelming feelings. Gladys heard her friend from the bottom of the stairs.
"Is she sick?" Gladys asked, looking to Mrs. Demers but not waiting for an answer. Carol's mother watched as Gladys climbed the stairs quickly, like a good friend would do, disappearing from sight. She hoped for her daughter's sake that things would be different for her but she couldn't help but think of her own circumstance and her own lost love from over twenty years ago. She really did see herself in Carol's eyes and she could more than anyone that her daughter was in pain.