I changed the Title from Therese to The Pillar of Salt because it would fit better with the theme that I have in mind for the later parts for the book. Highsmith even said it herself that the price that Lot's wife had to pay for turning back was part of the reason why it was titled The Price of Salt.
Every now and then there might be a few inspirations from the movie but as I said earlier, I plan on sticking to the book as close as possible. I'll try to update this story around once a week or so. So for now, please enjoy.
"And where did you get the nice idea of sending me a Christmas card?" Carol said to the girl across the table in the restaurant where they were eating. It was a nice distraction considering her morning was far from ideal. She had overslept and barely managed to leave the house in time to avoid being late. Carol's perfume began to waft up to her nose after hurriedly applying it to her neck in the car. It brought back the very distant memory of Harge buying her a bottle during their honeymoon in Paris. It was an expensive brand of perfume that Carol had difficulty finding in America so she always bought a bottle whenever she found herself in Europe, which wasn't very rare since Harge's family liked to take expensive vacations. It reminded her of the days that she was very much in love with him. Yet despite deciding to divorce with Harge, she could never bring herself to wear anything else. It was like a memory that she was reluctant to forget.
"I remembered you." The girl answered and Carol's eyebrows lifted, half in pleasant astonishment at the kind thought and half from being suddenly brought back from her preoccupying thoughts again. A small smile formed in Carol's lips but she realized that she hadn't finished putting on all her makeup in the car and reached for her handbag to take out her lipstick and compact mirror. She thought it was rude for her to be gussying up in front of the girl so she offered a cigarette which the girl gratefully accepted. Carol always reached for a smoke whenever she wanted to distract herself from her thoughts and because they were threatening to sweep her away again, she drew a long puff herself.
Focus, Carol, she chided to herself. You were the one who asked her to meet with you. "And do you often get inspired to send Christmas cards?"
"Of course not." The girl replied shyly and looked down. Carol studied her eyes. They had a certain fire in them that looked like it was repressed. And somehow, Carol saw herself in them.
"Well, here's to Christmas." Then Carol clinked their cocktails and drank. The conversation moved onto small talk and Carol was delighted at the easiness that was slowly filling her. Her thoughts had finally moved from the looming divorce or of her lost romance with Harge and onto the subject of that amiable girl seated across her. How she marveled at how a pleasant conversation with a pleasant person could impact her so much. "I like this." She smiled. "I like it that someone sent me a card, someone I didn't know. It's the way things should be at Christmas. And this year, I like it especially."
"I'm glad." The girl smiled back. It was as if she could see all of what Carol was going through in her grey eyes, as if she understood that Carol was lonely and was being especially thoughtful for her sake. Carol was happy.
"You're a very pretty girl. And very sensitive too, aren't you?" The girl took another sip from her cocktail and looked at Carol. Yes, you can see very well in my eyes the tiredness that I feel, don't you?
"I think you are magnificent." The girl instead said and caught Carol completely by surprise that she let out an unsuppressed laugh. Maybe I'm just thinking too much. I doubt very much someone I had just met can actually read me like an open book.
"I'm sure you thought it was a man who sent you the Christmas card, didn't you?" The girl asked which prompted Carol to retract her last thought.
Realizing the ridiculousness of it all, Carol rolled her eyes and smiled. "I did. I thought it just might be the man in the ski department who'd sent it."
"I'm sorry." The girl bashfully said again.
"No, I'm delighted." Carol finally admitted. "I doubt very much if I'd have gone to lunch with him. No, I'm delighted." And Carol also doubted whether she would feel this at ease if it had been that man. This girl had a certain solemnness around her as if she internalizes everything Carol would say to her, another thing that made her see herself in the girl.
Slowly, Carol started asking about the girl's background. She suddenly became interested in this young woman's life and was rewarded when she noticed that the girl also felt at ease and began telling Carol her life story. Her parents have passed away, she said, and after studying in New Jersey and working on a few jobs afterwards, she found herself alone in Manhattan, working as a temporary clerk in Frankenberg's.
It must've been hard coping without parents but it's nothing too out of the ordinary. I'm sure there's more to you than you're letting off. The girl was dressed up in the standard Frankenberg's employee uniform although she seemed to be missing the smock. The way she carried herself was not yet that of a fully mature adult but she seemed as if she was always thinking or contemplating on something. But unlike Carol, she never showed any signs of being swept away by preoccupation. And as if right on cue, she said something that Carol missed. The girl added afterwards "What could be duller than past history?" and smiled.
As if trying to hide the shame of being caught not paying full attention, Carol quickly thought of a reply. "Maybe futures that won't have any history." Yet the girl smiled as if she made perfect sense.
Try to make small talk as well. Carol suddenly realized that they haven't formally introduced themselves to each other yet probably because the girl already knew Carol's name from the COD slip. She looked at the nametag on the girl's chest that said "Therese" and the operator's voice saying the name Therese Belivet from yesterday rang in her head. That's a name I've never heard before. "What kind of a name is Belivet?"
"It's Czech. It's changed." The girl said and withdrew herself again. "Originally—"
"It's very original." Carol interrupted her and the girl smiled. As if she was proud that she was finally able to keep a decent conversation going, Carol took a long triumphant puff from her cigarette.
"What's your name?" Therese asked and when Carol gave her a confused look she added "Your first name."
"My name? Carol." She blew out the smoke. "Please don't ever call me Carole." She said, remembering the silly times she has when she buys her perfume in Paris.
"Please don't ever call me THerese." Therese said, stressing on the "th" sound. Carol smiled again, amused by how the conversation was going, as if they were exchanging light and playful mockery. "How do you like it pronounced? Térèz?" pronouncing it the French way as if in conjunction to what she said earlier.
What Carol didn't expect, however, was the genuine delight in Therese's eyes as she answered. "Yes. The way you do." What a strange girl, she mused.
Carol eventually noticed the time and felt that it was a shame that their meeting was about to end. She wanted to see more of this interesting girl. "What do you do on Sundays?" She tried her luck.
"I don't always know. Nothing in particular." Therese answered. "What do you do?"
"Nothing… Lately." Her eyes dropped down again at the last word. A slight pang of sorrow welled up in her chest. But that was exactly what she was hoping to change from now on. "If you'd like to visit me sometime, you're welcome to." She invited her in a subtle manner as if her pride prevented her from sounding like she was too desperate to escape her loneliness. "At least there's some country around where I live." Another excuse. "Would you like to come this Sunday?"
"Yes." She almost immediately replied, as if Therese was the one showing the eagerness that Carol ought to show if it wasn't for her well-constructed façade. Who are you, really?
Instead, Carol studied Therese's face for a quick moment before eventually saying "What a strange girl you are."
"Why?"
I can't explain it. You surprise me in more ways than one. It's as if you don't belong to where you are right now. Like you came from some other place that I know… Almost as if you were… "Flung out of space."
Carol paid the bill before they left. Therese immediately protested but Carol insisted. "I was the one who invited you and so it's only right that I foot the bill." Therese smiled sheepishly as they both parted ways. The time was half an hour past one and a slight guiltiness crept up on Carol as she hailed a taxi. Therese said she only had an hour from twelve to one and so she was terribly late for her shift. I'll just have to make it up to her this Sunday. She smirked. Carol looked out the window and saw Therese hurriedly running to the direction of Frankenberg's, while the taxi was heading towards the law offices downtown.
