A life in a gaze.
A chance.
Three thousand miles travelled in a freezing car. Forever uneaten lamb sandwiches. Bad coffee. And laughter, so much laughter.
Like an eternal sun, rising.
It had turned into a three-month long eclipse.
The catalyst: a telegram. A single bed too narrow for two people, and almost in the same instant, a puzzle, a paradox. The same bed cruelly transformed. Mutated into an immense field of cold nothing: far, far too large for Therese to wake up in alone.
An end, and a beginning. A story turned into a full circle of obsession, longing, despair and sadness. And just as suddenly, the counter set back to zero. Another loop. The impossible: Carol's voice at its lowest, softest register, cutting through it all.
I love you.
A whole life pushed to the floor, flattened by the press of a falling sky.
It all condensed against Therese's chest: there, in the Oak Room, staring at Carol across a room, gazes meeting, searching, not unlike that fateful day at Frankenberg's.
Was it only last Christmas?
And just like that day, Therese felt trapped in Carol's orbit, locked in her gaze. Pulled and pushed by an invisible gravity: A spiralling moon to the almost blinding shine of Carol.
Time slowed down as Carol held her gaze; red smile widening, blue eyes shining.
A thousand grains of sand dropped in what could not have been more than a few seconds. Each one a door opening to a future Therese thought forever closed. Her heart rate accelerated. Blood rushed to her organs, pulsing in her veins and flushing her body; reaching. Heating places where she had felt herself grow cold during her self-imposed hibernation. A dull throb began somewhere deep in her core, tendrils of electricity like invisible threads of golden silk sewing together the holes left by a dozen unanswered phone calls.
By a hundred nights alone.
By the daily reminder of two dozen pictures stuffed into the farthest drawer.
Therese felt like her skin was too tight, the light too bright.
It was hard to breathe, to move.
Thankfully, it passed quickly. The world around made itself known. Therese caught a whiff of cigarette smoke, a voice from a nearby table, the click of two glasses joining to toast in celebration. A woman delicately coughed somewhere to her left.
And finally, movement. A waiter carelessly stepped back behind her, inadvertently pushing her to the side and freeing her from Carol's gaze.
It was the push that propelled her forward.
Set in motion the rest of her life.
xxx
She squared her shoulders, took three long steps, and came to a stand by Carol's table.
"Good evening."
She smiled briefly at each of the table occupants, acknowledging them. She looked away from Carol only long enough to avoid being perceived as rude. Long enough to wonder when she became this person: someone who cared about appearances.
Long enough to notice Carol's friends in that absurdly clinical way of hers.
Two men. One woman. Around Carol's age.
Dull.
She thought that they were barely there, living in grey colours, faded to the point that if she had wanted to take their picture, she would have struggled to separate them from the background. They were utterly unlike Carol, who was a blast of vividness, a window to a better life, to secrets, pleasures, music and joy.
"Therese, dear, I am delighted that you could join us. Come, come. Please take a seat."
Carol scanned the table, figuring out the angles, the distances.
Can a chair fit next to her? It can, she decided quickly.
It should.
It will.
"Therese Belivet, a dear friend of mine. These are Anna Fowler, a school friend, and her brothers Matthew and John. We all grew up together." A brief smile, a pause, "many, many years ago."
It was self-deprecating. Half sarcasm. Half pain. Entirely a façade.
She was still wearing her full make-up, bright red lipstick armour, but Therese was starting to think that she could see the tender flesh it hid. She had thought Carol a mystery in those winter weeks when life had moved at the speed of a 1949 silver Packard. That trip had been a slow drop into the spiralling turbulence of the darkest of seas. By the time Therese had realized she was struggling to breathe, a strong current had already taken her too far away from shore to ever return.
But right then, at last, Therese felt like she could touch the bottom with her toes. The shifting sand underneath finally starting to settle.
Not two hours before, Carol had shown her the key to most of the doors she had kept locked, letting Therese see into the vastness inside. Her softly whispered confession, her plea for Therese to listen, to stay, had made Carol more real, more human. More frail and, somehow, stronger and more resilient than ever.
Carol talked as she stood, signalling briefly with her hand. "You will sit next to me, of course."
Immediately, a waiter appeared at their table, summoned out of thin air by Carol's gesture. Therese was stricken by a strange possessiveness. She wondered how many men, and yes, women, had their eyes on Carol. But before she could start an irrational inventory, a hand brushed her elbow, stopping all other thought.
Carol's soft hand touched down her arm, caressing her forearm and wrist, until she quickly squeezed her fingers before letting go.
It charged Therese; the touch.
She wanted to return it, to reach out. She felt starved for Carol, for her soft hands, her lips; the heat of her. It made goose bumps rise all over the skin of her arms and she shivered in place.
"Please move my seating to the right," Carol asked the waiter, looking at Therese.
Therese was staring back. She did not mind being caught at it. She shrugged slightly, eyes subtly moving over Carol's form. She had not really allowed herself to look at Carol before, in the Ritz. If asked, she would not have had the right words to describe Carol, her presence, her beauty. Nothing Therese had ever experienced, read or imagined could have prepared her for what it felt like to be a woman, next to a woman like Carol.
So she stared, noting how Carol's blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, her grey jacket and skirt beautifully fitted, without a single wrinkle. How her deep voice moved those around her to do her biding. She was breath-taking, even in the most mundane of acts, like taking charge of seating arrangements, making sure Therese got a chair right next to her.
Never mind that there was no space for a chair there.
Never mind that when they finally sat they had to squeeze together, knees and thighs touching under the table.
The feeling was paralyzing. Galvanizing. It was what Therese had never wanted to feel again, what she had tried to purge from her system. But in that moment, pressed against Carol, she realized she had only been fooling herself.
She was not cured.
She may never be.
What was worse, she was not sure if she would be strong enough to give up on Carol a second time.
Maybe, her choice to come to the Oak Room had been a mistake. They had the power to destroy each other.
She tried to take a fortifying breath, but being so close, all she did was make herself drunk on Carol's perfume.
She shifted on the chair, but there was hardly any room to move. It was suffocating. That almost made her smile. She had ardently desired to suffocate under Carol's naked body, pressed by her long limbs into the lumpy mattress of her apartment, trapped under her weight.
She shook her head to dispel the image.
She reached for the glass of water next to Carol's hand and took a long drink, emptying it, without really noticing that it was Carol's glass.
What she did notice was the shadow of strain in Carol's face. A certain paleness that not even the make-up could hide.
Another glimpse behind the mask.
The very threads holding Carol's life together were slowly stretching before Therese's eyes in an unravelling, miraculous evening, letting more and more of Carol seep out.
Carol could feel Therese's eyes on her. She felt nervous, unsure of Therese, unsure of herself. This part of the evening, she had not rehearsed. Damn that Jack boy for interrupting. Her body was unnaturally hot where Therese pressed against her. She looked around the table, worried by how much and how obviously Therese's presence was affecting her, but thankfully, her companions were oblivious, turned to conservation amongst themselves.
She reached for her cigarettes.
She fumbled with the silver case, clumsy. She let out a soft curse under her breath.
Pull yourself together.
When she finally got her hands to cooperate, she took a deep breath, opened the case, and smiled.
Offered it to Therese.
"Cigarette?"
"Yes, please."
xxx
Carol wished, later, that she could deny it, but the sound she made when she heard Therese's answer was an entirely undignified one. A cross between a sob and a hiccup; but she felt justified: Therese had said yes.
Yes.
After an afternoon of brutal noes drowning in the bitterest tea Carol had ever drank. After dazedly walking the streets of New York and only just managing to swallow it all down to show up at the Oak Room, her heart suspended from the very last thread of hope that Therese may still surprise her.
After all of that, here was Therese.
Beautiful, young, brilliant Therese.
Saying yes.
To a stupid cigarette, of all things.
Carol choked on the yes. It got stuck on her windpipe and she had to cough and cough until a waiter finally took pity of her and brought her a new glass of water.
"I'm sorry, that went down the wrong way."
She had not been drinking or eating anything.
"Are you well, Carol?" Anna asked, concerned, looking almost accusingly towards Therese. "You have been out of sorts all evening."
"I am now." Carol said firmly, looking also at Therese. "But maybe I should turn in early, just tonight. I have been feeling slightly under the weather this past week."
"Of course," Anna nodded immediately, looking gravely at Therese, "we must get going too, anyway."
Therese curiously observed the conversation, feeling a bit like that time she had seen that dashing athlete, Doris Hart, win a thrilling match of tennis. Only in this case, she was a spectator in her own life: with front row tickets to a life-sized puppet show where she was the leading lady of a life never lived.
The way Anna shepherded her siblings in a quiet, rushed manner, the quick goodbyes and the strong squeeze to Carol's shoulder before departing, her final look towards Therese.
It made Therese come to the only possible conclusion.
Anna knew.
She felt crestfallen that the important people in Carol's life always seemed to know her. Abby, Anna. Who else? It was like a whole life existed, parallel to hers, where she featured only in shadow, without a chance to speak up, to meet these people, to change their fate. Her fate. Carol's fate.
She would have liked to meet all of Carol's friends on her own terms.
She dropped her chin a bit. Almost ashamed by how much she coveted Carol. All of her. Her friends. Her time. Her body. Her love.
"Therese?" It was almost timid; too quiet given that they were now alone at the table. "Would you like to eat something?"
"I already ate at the party."
"Then, should we go as well?"
"Where?"
"I don't know," Carol hesitated, "anywhere you want."
xxx
They walked down the stairs to the street. Arms brushing. Therese wanted to link their arms together, but she missed her chance when Carol moved her bag to the arm between them, putting some distance between them. It was late. The street was almost empty. The temperature had dropped significantly since they had first arrived.
Therese noticed, when they headed south, that Carol walked with a limp.
"Can you walk?"
"I-, no, well-, yes, yes, of course I can walk," Carol wavered a bit as she walked, belying her own words. "It is rather silly, really. Before, when I left you with your friend Jack, I took a bit of a walk," she exhaled. "To clear my head."
"Of course." Therese remembered how her own head had felt like it was going to explode. She could only imagine how Carol must had felt.
"I may have overdone it," Carol finally admitted, stopping. She did not speak of the two hours she had spent wandering the streets of New York like a vagabond, despairing over everything that had been lost in a single day. A past. A future.
"I don't think I can go much further." Carol's voice was rough and low. Her eyes dark against her pale skin in the evening light. Carol's eyes never lied. She was speaking of something more meaningful; In code.
It made Therese smile.
This part, she knew. This part, she was good at.
"Let's get you a taxi."
Carol nodded, displeased by the pronoun choice.
"Therese, dearest, would you…" she started to ask, but her throat closed on the words before she could finish. An unformulated question, and still, the most significant question between them.
Carol wanted to push for answers, but she was exhausted. There, on a side walk at 57th, she had finally, finally, run out of steam, run down as she was by the evening events, the morning events. She did not have the strength to ask in full questions any more.
Therese hailed a cab and grabbed Carol's arm, pushing the handbag to the side.
"I would."
xxx
It was a short drive to Carol's apartment in Madison Avenue. The apartment itself was ample, with high ceilings and pleasantly warm.
Carol took off her shoes almost as soon as she closed the door behind them. Then, with faltering steps, she made her way to a cabinet in the large room that acted both as living room and dining room. There was a small kitchen at one of its ends, a real fire-place at the other.
She took the pins off her hair, combing her fingers through her blonde locks and rubbing her neck for a moment. Then, she poured herself a drink. Drank it in one go. Then, poured another.
"Would you like a drink, Therese?"
"No, thank you."
"I see," Carol's eyes flicked at the refusal, the glass of rye trembling in her hand, "we are back to that."
They looked at each other in silence. "Maybe a small one?" Therese rectified. "It makes me sleepy and I already drank some wine at Phil's; I don't want to fall sleep on you."
Carol gave her a blinding smile. "Of course, a small one."
Both glasses in hand, she approached Therese. "Will you not have a seat?" She gestured towards Therese's left.
The room was barely furnished. A dark green sofa and a matching love seat were pushed back against the wall, a small table sat in front of them, spilling with legal-looking papers and a half-full ashtray. There was no other furniture in the room. It did not look lived in.
Carol's new life, wherever it may lead, was only just starting: A train departing.
Therese wanted to jump on board.
Desperately.
She reached for the glass that Carol was offering her, and then, in a move that surprised Carol, she took Carol's glass too. She placed them gently on the table.
Then, she turned, took a step forward and hugged Carol around the waist, burying herself against Carol's chest and neck.
"Oh," Carol breathed in, surprised. Then, as Therese pressed even closer, "oh," softer, lower.
Therese was wearing heels. With Carol on her bare feet, it was possibly the tallest she had ever been with Carol. Still, her cheek fit comfortably against the curve of Carol's neck. She touched her cheek to the soft skin there, her nose against Carol's earlobe, breathing her in.
Carol was warm, soft. Her curves just fit against Therese's. They swayed on their feet, hugging, Carol's arms reaching around Therese's thin frame. One carefully manicured hand caressed the skin at the back of Therese's neck, fingers curling, reaching, nails digging slightly into the tender skin there.
"You changed your perfume," Therese whispered against Carol's neck. "This one is even nicer."
"I-, oh, Therese, will you please give us another chance," Carol's voice was so deep, it was hard to understand her. "I'm an old fool. Forgive me?"
Carol moved her head, bending, letting her lips caress Therese's temple, her cheek, her nose. It was not a kiss, but it felt just as intimate. "I thought I knew what was best for us, what was best for you," she moved her mouth over Therese's cheek again, her nose bumping against Therese's jaw, breathing her in, "but you knew better, all along." She let out a sad chuckle. "You were always the smarter one out of the two of us."
Listening to Carol, standing in her embrace, Therese felt a sudden calmness, a sureness that made her go limp in Carol's arms. All tension gone. Right then, there, she saw the rest of her life playing out, unfolding, and she knew what she wanted.
She wanted this. This woman. This life.
She stood on her toes, stepping even more into Carol, her chest pushing under Carol's breasts, her arms reaching up, pulling Carol fully into her body.
She felt happy, warm, loved. She committed to the feeling and kissed Carol.
She kissed her softly at first. She pulled back after a moment, wanting to see Carol's face. Carol's eyes were impossibly dark. As soon as Therese caught her glancing at her mouth and lower, she kissed her again, first the top lip, then the bottom, her mouth opening to taste Carol's lips.
Carol gasped into her mouth, this time surging forward, returning her kisses eagerly, a bit sloppily, like it was the first time she had been kissed.
When Therese pulled back for a second time, she noticed that Carol had started to cry silently. Dark tears marking her cheeks, removing eye and face make up on their way down her face.
"I lost Rindy," Carol whispered, "I thought I'd lost you too."
"Carol-,"
"Oh, look at me. For heaven's sake, crying like a baby." She pulled away, rubbing at her face. "I must look a fright." She was still crying, unable to stop herself.
"You look beautiful," Therese said softly. It was the honest-to-god truth. "Let's get you to bed. It's late. I'm half asleep, too. It's been a long day."
Therese pushed Carol towards the door at the end of the living room. It led to a small corridor with three doors. They walked to the second one, stepping into a large bedroom. Unlike the other one, this room looked lived in. It had a queen bed at the centre, a dresser and a vanity. At one end, where the room obviously fit the corner of the building, there were two arm chairs facing each other and a little table between them.
It was a lovely room. It was easy for Therese to imagine her life in this room, reading the paper whilst having breakfast with Carol, there, on those arm chairs, on a sunny, cold Sunday morning.
"Will you-, will you stay?" Carol asked.
"Yes."
Something took flight in Carol's chest. "Good. Good. I have something here that you can wear," she quickly moved to the dresser, finding a pair of green pyjamas, the fabric littered with tiny silver stars. "The bathroom is just the way we came, the first door to your right."
The pyjamas were soft to the touch, expensive looking. Also, obviously the wrong size either for Rindy or for Carol. Therese regarded them, a question in her eyes. Carol had the grace to blush before shrugging and winking weakly at her.
"I hoped."
Carol's blush only deepened when Therese stripped right there, in front of her, putting on the pyjamas without bothering to turn away. When she was finished, she left her clothing in one of the arm chairs and took a seat on the left side of the bed.
Claiming ownership.
My side. My arm chair.
Carol had not yet even undone a single button of her grey jacket.
"You really are full of surprises, Therese." She chuffed out a delighted laugh. "Let me get ready."
Carol grabbed her underclothes from the dresser and went to the bathroom to change and wash her face. She was feeling bashful. It was not a common feeling for her, but the events of the day were hard to shake. When Therese had rejected her she had felt old and tired. Beaten by life.
When she came back, after taking a shower and drying her hair, she was wearing her red terry-cloth robe. Not that she had a mental ranking of her wardrobe options, but that simple robe was a favourite. The memories it held forever branded into Carol's mind.
Therese was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. Unwanted tears rose again to Carol's eyes, but she managed to blink them away, annoyed at herself that she was behaving like a sentimental fool. She slipped off her robe resolutely, decided not to cry any more. She was wearing a one piece white camisole that reached her upper thighs and left her arms and most of her chest bare. It made her feel strong, attractive.
As soon as she slid into the bed, Therese reached for her, spooning her from behind.
"Let me turn, Therese," she whispered, she wanted to hold Therese, too. She pushed back until she gave her enough space to roll over and face her.
They pressed together under the covers. Therese was warm and sleepy and smelled of something fruity. Carol caressed her bare arms, congratulating herself for buying a short-sleeved pyjamas.
This was the most comfortable and safe Carol had felt on this bed. On any bed maybe.
How a tiny scrap of a girl like Therese could make Carol feel so safe was a puzzle she was willing to spend the rest of her life trying to solve.
xxx
Carol woke up first, body half-buried under Therese's limbs.
Her right arm felt numb. She tried to change positions without disturbing Therese.
"Do you need to go?" Therese grumpily asked.
"No."
"Then stop wiggling."
"I do not wiggle, Therese."
"You do!" Therese laughed, finally moving to let Carol slip her arm from under her. They shifted so that they were facing each other. They were tangled up in the middle of the bed, nearly two-thirds of it unused, to both their sides.
Carol reached up, touching Therese's short hair. She missed the longer bangs, but Therese looked very fine indeed with her new style. She let her fingers move down, slowly caressing her forehead, her cheekbone, her cheek and neck. Therese's face flushed under the caress, her ears growing red and warm to the touch. Carol pressed closer, rubbing her whole body against Therese's, making them both groan.
"I like your new haircut."
Therese's eyes were deep and dark, "I like that I finally got to wake up with you."
Carol was silent for a long time. "Me too."
"I was so angry. I still am."
Carol nodded. "I was wrong. I know it now. I hurt you. I hurt us both. I'm so sorry, I-"
"Carol,-"
"Will you give us another chance, Therese? Move here, with me? Maybe not immediately, but sometime?"
Therese reached up, took Carol's hand from where it still rested on her cheek and pressed it to her lips, then, she shifted closer, moving in for a proper kiss. Then another, opening her mouth slightly and letting her tongue find Carol's. Carol jerked against her, gasping into Therese's mouth.
"Yes," Therese breathed, "yes, I will."
She kissed Carol again, harder, her hips starting to rock against Carol's leg, finding purchase. "Oh, god."
Carol reached down, her hands finding Therese's hips, helping Therese remove her pants and panties, sliding her bare thigh against Therese's heat, helping her move against her. "My angel," she breathed in Therese's ear, kissing her earlobe, her neck, her cheek, her mouth, her upper chest, anywhere she could reach. It should not feel so good, but Therese felt herself quickly losing control. A deep throbbing started beating between her legs, where she was rocking against Carol. When Carol's soft hand reached under her pyjama top and cupped her breast, gently squeezing her nipple, she found a quick release, quaking against Carol, hugging her tightly to her.
Carol was gazing at her with the same look she had had in her eyes at the Ritz, when she had confessed her love.
Therese felt her chest opening, the uncoiling of something wonderful. She thought that if she had not been weighted down by Carol's arms around her, she might had floated up into space, maybe to that place where Carol insisted she had been flung from.
When she finally caught her breath, she pushed Carol into her back, climbing on top of her and starting to kiss her way down her body. She kissed her everywhere, stopping only long enough to help remove the camisole. She was not wearing anything under it. It made them both laugh when Carol only said "I hoped some more." Then, they grew quiet, as Therese continued kissing her nipples, her stomach. She carefully reached between their bodies, letting her fingers comb through the soft hair between Carol's legs, parting her. She looked into Carol's eyes as she carefully slid her fingers inside, massaging her, drawing small circles, then, she lowered her mouth to the same spot, tonguing her softly.
Carol's hand reached down, guiding her to the right spot. "Therese."
It was over embarrassingly quickly, for Carol, but she had been so wound up and so emotionally exhausted and Therese's hands and lips on her felt like heaven.
xxx
They dozed on the bed, afterwards, still tangled up together, arms and legs around each other. Carol's camisole bunched up somewhere behind her. Therese' pyjamas open to the third button, her pants and panties at the end of the bed.
"I missed you," Therese confessed, "I missed this."
Carol kissed her, "I love you."
It was not what she had intended to say, but those were the only words that came to her lips. She could imagine telling Therese she loved her every day of their lives, for as long as Therese would want to hear it.
Therese burrowed into Carol.
"Let's stay in bed all day."
Carol threw her head back and let out a throaty laugh.
The sun rose over the roofs of the houses across Madison Avenue, the early morning light falling over Therese's side of the bed.
"Carol?" Therese whispered to her chin, tucking her head closer.
Carol squeezed her, "yes, darling?"
"I love you, too."
FIN.