Wednesday, December 18th, 1957

Therese didn't think Carol would mind when she took the black fountain pen from her purse. She couldn't understand for the life of her why the lovely pen was always in her purse and not kept on her desk. Maybe she frequently used it at work and liked having it in the purse she carried on her for upwards of fifty hours a week, if not more. It was probably just as easy for Carol to reach for her purse rather than open a desk drawer, Therese told herself.

Before the end of the year, there were Christmas cards for Therese to sign for colleagues at iThe Times/i and her friends who she hardly saw any more with her constantly busy job. There was also Carol's special Christmas card that she wanted to very nicely and neatly write out with a decent pen, so Therese again assured herself that borrowing her fountain pen for the day would be no big deal, especially when she was in the office on a day when Carol happened to be home and not feeling well.

In her saddlebag, Therese packed her cards and Carol's special red one. Before she headed out, Carol asked her to bring the purse to her in bed, even offering her five dollars for lunch for the next couple of days since she wouldn't be able to do any cooking or meet up with her in the middle of the day. Despite the sweet gesture, Therese declined, insisting that there was too much for her to do around the office before the holidays and she would rather have a snack and get extra tasks completed. Therese offered to put her purse back on the credenza on her way out, and gave Carol a kiss on the forehead, determined not to catch whatever she had before the holidays.

When lunch rolled around, Therese could finally start writing up the handful of cards she had and reached for the lovely fountain pen in her purse. She had become so used to typing everything or scribbling on photos with pencils that she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to use one of them. Not since she was in school did she use a fountain pen; certainly never anything as nice as Carol's. Therese looked at it, noticing a fair few scuffs on the celluloid and a light dent or two on the gold clip. Carol's probably had this forever, Therese reflected.

Prior to touching pen to paper, Therese tested the ink flow, the thickness of the nib, and how the ink bled into a small corner of the paper she wanted to write on. Everything looked good and she pulled out the first card to start writing. Her mind drew a blank as to what to say to people she already saw practically every single day. What do people usually write on Christmas cards? Usually Carol wrote them out or helped her with that sort of thing, but Therese didn't want to trouble her with that this year.

She turned her head to the left to see if anyone from the adjacent office could look in on her, but everyone was at lunch. Therese happily smiled to herself without anyone watching, remembering writing out the card when she returned the gloves to Carol. She hadn't even signed her name, instead reducing herself to her institutional employee code number like a prisoner. Recalling the contents of that card and how it, in part, helped her get to the very seat she sat in at that moment, gave her new inspiration for the cards she wrote to her friends. Sweet, funny, witty, she knew she could do that.

By the time she had only two more cards remaining (including the special one for Carol), her colleagues started milling back into the office and causing a commotion, breaking Therese's concentration. She capped the pen first, keeping it on the desk as she scurried to hide all of the cards in bright red envelopes inside her bag. Some of her co-workers began to pop by her desk, clamoring for "Belivet" repeatedly. In her haste and distraction, Therese got all the cards in the bag, but left the pen on her desk next to the typewriter.

When Therese returned to her desk, the first thing she noticed was that the pen was missing. She looked in the drawers, lifted up the typewriter, checked under every notebook, even in the trash bin to make sure it didn't somehow slide in there. "Guys, c'mon. Where's my pen? Who's got it?" Therese loudly announced for the room to hear. The young man sitting at the desk behind her stepped forward, apologizing for taking it, but the phone rang and it had been the closest writing instrument he could find. It was clipped to the ring of his spiral-bound notebook, and instead of sliding the clip up the spiral to release the pen, he pulled it with a robust tug of his hand, breaking the gold clip on the pen cap.

"Oh, fuck." Therese inaudibly muttered.

"Uh, sorry?" he offered as he handed the pen, the cap, and the clip to Therese. She couldn't even look at him; but it wasn't like he knew the pen didn't belong to her. He probably thought he just destroyed "some ugly old pen." Therese swiped the pen from his hand, twisting the cap back on and then placed the broken clip and pen in her bag.

Therese looked at her watch, noting that it was almost four. That should be enough time to pop into a nearby jewelry store and look into getting the pen repaired. "I have to go."

"I'll pay for it!" he shouted as Therese walked out, raising a hand in the air signaling he needn't bother.

The good news: It could be fixed.

The bad news: It would take two days.

Therese walked in the front door ten minutes earlier than usual: grumpy, tired, and disappointed. She tossed her bag to the floor, threw her coat and hat on a hook, and went in search of Carol to check in on her. It was quiet, almost too quiet, especially with Rindy at a friend's after school for dinner and an early evening theater performance. As she walked further into the apartment, Therese picked up on the scent of bread toasting and found Carol in the kitchen making tea and spreading butter and jam onto a piece of toast.

"Good to see you up eating again." Therese leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then brushed away some dark crumbs from the corner of Carol's mouth. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks. Would you like tea? I just made some."

"Sounds good." Carol pushed forward the cup she had made for herself and let Therese fix it as she liked while she poured herself a fresh cup. She removed the silver strainer then sat down across from Therese to have her snack, which was probably more of a dinner for her at this point with her queasy stomach. After taking a quick sip of the hot tea, Carol perked up remembering something.

"Darling, I wanted to ask you… " Carol trailed off, then thought of the other slice of bread in the toaster, getting up to pull it out before it was too burnt. "Have you seen my black pen around? I could have sworn it was in my purse."

Therese's shoulders sank against the seat. Before she could start explaining, she sipped her tea and looked directly at Carol, who was not completely paying attention to her. Therese grasped her hand and blurted out, "Yeah, I have your pen… and it broke."

Carol put down her teacup and blankly stared at Therese for a minute. "What?"

"The clip, just the clip is broken, but I took it - "

"You weren't supposed to touch the pen."

"I'm sorry, Carol, I had no idea."

"You weren't supposed to touch it." she slowly reiterated.

"I'm sorry. I'm getting it repaired, I'll cover the cost of any damage, and - "

Carol laughed, brushing her hair back and swiping fingers over her neck. She stood to go to the counter to get her cigarettes and lighter. "It's not the cost, dearest, it's… " Carol lit a cigarette and put the pack away, all without offering one to Therese, which she typically and readily did. Rather than return to the chair, she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Therese by herself.

When she realized she was alone in the room, Therese followed her out. "Look, I'm sorry I took it without asking, I really had no idea."

"It's fine. It's just a pen, right?"

Therese paused, watching Carol take deeper and deeper drags on her cigarette to calm herself down. "Clearly it's not. You're in a tizzy over it."

"No, no, It's 'just a pen,'" she mockingly insisted.

"Okay." Therese could leave it there, but she wanted to know why Carol was acting like this. She had never seen her this upset before. Except for that one time in Waterloo when she took the gun from her suitcase to chase after that detective…

Therese's eyes widen at that memory and she took a step back from where Carol stood. She couldn't help the curiosity though as Carol seemed to make a big deal out of the whole incident. Carol wasn't usually unhinged at the drop of bad news. "Can I ask, why is it important to - "

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But - "

"It's just very - meaningful - to me."

"But - "

"No," Carol firmly stated.

Therese pressed further and further until Carol shut her eyes and simply walked away into the bedroom and then shut the bathroom door. Therese was visibly upset as well, forgetting that it was her fault that the pen broke, but this now had blown up into an argument concerning a much greater issue. It had been at the forefront of her mind for the past few months, how Carol didn't open up about things. She always wanted to know about Therese, about her childhood, her friends, her work, her favorite things; however, she never really reciprocated. The subject was usually changed in a matter of moments, distracted by something else at hand. Yes, it was just a pen, but there was clearly more to it. She could not understand how Carol could be so mysterious about something so trivial.

"You always ask about me, about my past. What about yours? You're just so guarded sometimes. I'm your… " Therese didn't know what to refer to herself as, and left it trailed off into nothing. "I love you, you can trust me."

"I love you too, but that's not the issue right now. There are lots of things from my past I don't want to rehash and don't want to think about, Therese." Carol shouted through the door. Therese heard the water running for the bathtub and Carol opening the medicine cabinet to shuffle around for whatever she needed. Footsteps approached the door and Therese jumped back as if the door might swing open and Carol walk out into the bedroom. The door didn't open and all she heard was Carol quietly speak. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be by myself right now."

Carol had never told her she wanted to be by herself before. Therese threw her hands up and made her way to the front door where she had dropped her bag and her coat less than thirty minutes earlier. Back on goes her wool coat and the plain beret, then she headed out the door without looking back.

Since it was now after five in the evening, the streets were not only filled with people trying to make their way home from work, but also throngs of last-minute Christmas shoppers. It was a dangerous combination of people wandering the streets of Manhattan this time of year, Therese thought. She walked in loops, around the neighborhood blocks a few times, waiting for some of the retail shops to close so that she could wander onto the more brightly lit Fifth Avenue, maybe even see the tree at Rockefeller Center. There were still lots of people out, but the crowds were dissipating and heading home for dinner or out to the theater. When the wind chill picked up, Therese knew it was time to head indoors, but she was not quite ready to go home. There was always the automat, or Scotty's. Or the movies, especially the one closest to the apartment that was good and heated with comfortable seating. Therese made her way to the movie theater and thought about what sort of snack she would get when she got there..

Carol walked into the theater ten minutes after the movie began, unphased by her typical late arrival. She knew perfectly well that iAn Affair to Remember/i was basically a carbon copy of iLove Affair/i, only different actors and the magic of Technicolor, so there wasn't too much that she could have possibly missed. The brightness of the screen illuminated the auditorium, allowing her to see members of the audience with ease. Along the right-hand aisle, Carol spotted Therese sitting by their usual seats.

She cringed watching a young man sitting a seat over from Therese trying to talk to her and get her attention. Therese angled her head towards him a couple times, not saying anything or acknowledging him, but she knew what he was playing at. What was wrong with these young people?It didn't seem to take too long for Therese to admit to herself that she had finally had enough and got up to move across the aisle to another seat closer to the screen.

The young man started gathering his belongings, making like he was going to follow Therese over to the other side of the theater, but not if Carol could help it. She rushed over to the seat behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me," Carol said as she leaned forward, "I couldn't help but overhear you harass that young lady there."

He turned around and snickered at Carol, reeking of alcohol. "Mind your own goddamn business, lady."

"She is my goddamn business."

"Doesn't look like it," he sneered, "she your ward or something?"

"No, but - "

"So mind your own goddamn business."

He was still eyeing Therese and again got up to try and follow her over at her new seat. Carol reached out with a gloved hand to the back of the young man's shirt collar and tie, and tightly yanked him down, pinning him by the neck against the metal rim of the chair. Apparently shifting pieces of furniture when absolutely necessary had given Carol more upper body strength than anticipated. "Go over there near her and I swear I'll saw your balls off with the rusty keys in my purse."

Carol gave him a moment to let it sink in and begrudgingly let him go when he started coughing and the young man scrambled to his feet, brushing past her and scampering up the aisle out of the theater.

The moment he left, Carol calmed herself down and made her way to the seat next to Therese to sit beside her. She gripped her hand and whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry about earlier; I acted horribly and I will work on being more open with you."

"I'm sorry I took the pen from your purse without asking." Therese squeezed her hand back and rested her head against Carol's shoulder, never knowing that Carol had prevented the young man from further harassing her.

Poor Therese found herself unable to hold back her tears during the last scene of the movie. Carol didn't mean to smile, she was feeling rather weepy herself, but the feeling was all too familiar as she watched Therese reflect upon everything. "They love each other so much," she sighed.

"Did you ever see the original iLove Affair/i? Or perhaps you were too young." Carol asked as she passed Therese a clean handkerchief from her pocket, trying her best to distract her from the tears.

"Too young," Therese replied, wiping her eyes. "Did you?"

"I did, all the way back in 1939," she smiled, "but that does make me feel terribly old. It's been… eighteen years?"

"How did you like this?"

"I could have done without some of the singing, but you know, it's the same story, same director, but now in CinemaScope."

As the lights came on, Therese took a beret in her hand and passed the other one to Carol, not knowing which one she actually held. Therese watched Carol smooth out her hair and placed the green one she had worn to the theater on her head. They had gotten them mixed up, but it was't important. Therese liked how the green looked against her hair, and Carol also didn't seem to mind what she put on her head because it was far too chilly out to care.

Therese looked down at her plaid one in her hand and flipped it over. As she picked up the edge of the hat, she noticed strands of golden hair against the black felt. She looked back up at Carol, still sitting next to her, and pulled the green one off her head. "Here, you wear this one instead."

"Why?"

"I like how you look in it better," she answered as she put the green one on. Therese glanced back over at Carol sitting beside her, the room practically empty, and slouched down into her seat. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Just a gander."

"Really."

"Well, it's Wednesday, so I know Dannie is working the late shift again tonight. Louise has class until nine. Phil is not your preferred drinking buddy - he's mine, you know, darling - and you like being alone in crowds, but not at bars. It's cold out, and you'd want somewhere nice and warm. This theater is closest to the apartment, and I know that you didn't see this during the summer, even though you wanted to, so, figured you would be here."

Embarrassed how Carol could piecemeal her thought processes together so well, Therese laughed to herself. There was no mistaking that Carol loved her because she was always paying attention to every little detail. No other patrons were in the room and the lobby boys had already cleaned between the seats as they chatted, leaving the theater empty except for the two of them. Therese leaned in and pressed a kiss to Carol's cheek. "Let's go home," she hurriedly said as she rose from her seat, "Rindy will be home soon." Carol followed, pulling shut her coat. She knew she must look terribly silly in a three-thousand dollar fur and a little plaid beret on her head, but she didn't care. It was Therese's beret and it made her smile.

They walked in silence back toward the apartment, close to one another, but not touching, not until they were about three blocks away when Carol suddenly linked her arm with Therese's.

"Would you believe… " she began, "that particular movie, or rather the original one, is the beginning of how I got that black fountain pen for my nineteenth birthday?"