Thursday, April 18th, 1957
6:06 p.m.

Every time Carol shifted her hips on the couch, the leather made an uncomfortable sounding creak. Her toes began to involuntarily fidget after more than thirty minutes of motionlessly reclining on the sofa; not like their movements were visible inside her shoes. She ran her thumb over the back of her finger where she toyed with the rose gold band Therese had given her a few years earlier, twisting it around her finger to press the smooth metal against her. She stared at the plant in the corner of the room, wondering if it had been watered recently. She thought she saw some dust in the corner as well, then asked herself when the last time was that her doctor (or at least someone in the building) had done a thorough cleaning of the room. In fact, she saw dust underneath every hard-to-reach fixture in her line of sight.

'Why don't you want to go to your reunion?"

The question broke the drift happening in Carol's mind as she shifted her focus back to her analyst to answer her. Carol tightened her arms around herself and took a deep breath before speaking. She remained quiet for as long as possible before speaking. "I have nothing in common with them. Everyone there will be telling the same story about their husbands, children, houses, dishwashers… "

"Dishwasher aside, you don't think you have things in common with them? With Therese? Rindy?"

"Therese is not my husband. I do have a - partner - in common, but you know as well as I simply cannot - openly - discuss it. "

"True, however - "

"No, I can't do that. I don't want to go back to where I need to think about every word that pours from my mouth. Yesterday was… yesterday was our anniversary. Four years now since Therese and I have been living together. Four years since I made a commitment to not be dishonest with myself or those I know about who I am or who Therese is to me. Within reasonable bounds, I mean. Even though I can comfortably say I wasn't terribly close to anyone in my class, I can't say that I am all that eager to spend a couple days with them reminiscing on life before marriage and listen to them talk about what could have been. I spent considerable time with Harge's co-workers' spouses. Their relationships aren't entirely like - ours. They're… bored."

"Are you bored?"

"I have Therese, we have Rindy. We have dear family and friends. Friends who are practically family - they are family. All of us, we talk about everything without restraint. None of us has that lingering imbalance of male-female relationships. We all have lives outside of our home, interests apart from one another, interests we share, lives apart from the children.

"I have a career. I leave the house every day to do something I love. I peruse books to research Carlton House desks or an early twentieth-century chiffonier that someone has over in Cherry Hill. I might not be teaching anymore, but have a sense of independence with what I do on a daily basis. Seeing where I came from, what it was like to be in a relationship with a man for ten years, that's important to me."

"Do you think it would be different now, with Therese, if you stayed home all year and were a 'typical' housewife? I understand you have less than a couple months until you take the summer off."

Carol raised her arm so she could scratch just beneath her ear, arbitrarily flicking the bottom of her earring. "Perhaps, but we share all of our responsibilities because we work. Even last summer, when I took time off after Harge passed, it was still… shared."

"And if you didn't work?"

"I suppose I would take on those tasks to lighten Therese's responsibilities. And Rindy's getting old enough to help me."

"On that note… sounds like you have something to think about for next week." Her doctor didn't mean to sound so dismissive when she was speaking, noting the time. "Five-thirty still alright for you next Thursday, Carol?"

Swerving around to sit upright on the couch, Carol straightened out the her suit jacket, smoothing down the lines that had become crinkled after over forty-five minutes reclined. "Absolutely. We actually have plans to head out of town next week - the three of us - leaving early Friday morning, so how about we make it the week after?"

"Lovely. What are you up to, if I may inquire?"

"We're going to open the house up in Greenwich, fill the pool, and get everything ready for the summer. My nephew and his boyfriend graduate in June, so we'll be hosting a large family party that weekend at the house." Carol steadied her feet before she stood, ensuring she hadn't stepped out of the pumps her wore while her legs had been reclined for so long. "If I might ask, Claire, did you go to your fifteen-year reunion? Or any reunion for that matter?"

"I did. That was mainly because of Evelyn who wanted to see her former department colleagues."

"Are you both going this year?"

Her doctor weakly smiled then cleared her throat. "We're - we ended it. A couple months ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that, Claire," Carol quickly offered.

"It's fine," she dismissively replied with a wave of her hand. She glanced back at Carol and stated, "Not meant… didn't work out, you know?"

Carol didn't go any further with the conversation and suddenly wanted to get out of the room, especially as she had moments earlier so happily announced that she and Therese had been together for four years and were planning a joyous family get together. As she gathered her belongings from the coat rack and placed it on the couch where she opened it, Carol rifled around in the dark cavern of a bag she had the habit of carrying, and pulled out what she needed. "Now, how much do I - "

"Carol," she sighed, "you've been coming here for four years now. You already know the answer to that."

Looking down at the checkbook and fountain pen in her hands, she smiled to herself after being told the same line yet again nearly every week for the past four years, and immediately placed everything back into her bag then closed it.

6:46 p.m.

"I'm home!" Carol shouted as she walked through the front door. Removing her silk scarf and polo coat, she placed the items on the coat rack, waiting for the usual scuffle of feet to the door from either Rindy or Therese.

"Therese is still in the darkroom," came a voice from the dining table. Carol walked into the dining room and found Rindy sprawled out at the table with her books, busy with her homework. All Carol could think was she had an awful lot of books open for a nine year old.

She was glad to see Rindy; Carol was always pleased to come home on Thursdays to find her there, usually doing her homework right before The Lone Ranger was on. Even though they didn't have as much time together on Thursdays, Carol still found at least an hour to spend with their daughter. This first school year of Rindy living with them was proving difficult in that, with her job, Carol missed out on picking up Rindy from school and being home with her in the afternoons, except for Tuesdays when she took the afternoon off. Nonetheless, it never felt like enough time due to all the years that they missed out on together.

Walking up to Rindy, she kissed the top of her head and peered over her to see what she was working on. Immediately, she recognized the French homework she was finishing and scanned the answers she had filled in. Moments later, she picked up a pencil Rindy hadn't been using and silently pointed to an error. "Dr. & Mrs. Vandertramp… "

Rindy smiled and smacked the heel of her palm against her head. "Thank you," she said as she promptly erased avons tourné and wrote sommes tournés in its place. "That good?"

Without saying anything, Carol again kissed her on the head and made her way into the kitchen. Opening the oven, she spotted a plate with the evening's dinner put aside for her, still hot to the touch. Carol searched for an oven mitt to safely retrieve the plate, eventually finding one in a nearby drawer. After placing some utensils and the warm plate on a tray, she filled a glass with water and added that to what she carried into the dining room. Despite there being more than enough room at the dining table for Carol, when Rindy saw her mother come into the room with the tray, she immediately closed some of her books and stacked them neatly in one area so Carol could sit closer to her. She wanted to tell Rindy not to bother, there was plenty of space around the table, but she liked the way Rindy had made extra room for her to sit next to her and how she smiled when Carol removed her suit jacket and sat down near her. Not wanting to break her daughter's concentration, Carol took a few bites before speaking, waiting for a lull in her writing. "Is that your tutoring homework for Saturday?"

"Yes. All done now. Well… the French is."

"And the arithmetic? Science project research?"

Rindy looked to her left at the stack of books. "Mostly… "

"You can finish the arithmetic tomorrow. Okay, sweet pea?"

"Okay."

"How was school today?"

Rindy put down her pencil and sat up straighter in the chair. "Good. Nothing exciting."

"Nothing?" Carol asked, mockingly admonished that absolutely nothing of interest could have possibly happened in the eleven hours since she'd last seen her. Rindy had grown accustomed to the question most every day. Truthfully, nothing really exciting did happen; especially with only a few more weeks to go in the school year.

"Nothing," she confirmed.

"What about at morning meeting? Did you say anything?"

Whenever Carol asked Rindy about her day, she always asked if anyone said anything during the daily morning meeting. She found it fascinating the way the children met every day and, if any were compelled to speak about whatever was on their mind, they did. Tapping her pencil on the open page of her workbook, she thought for a moment. "I didn't, no. The girl next to me today did. Her brother got drafted," she hesitantly noted. "He probably won't fight anywhere because he's a Quaker and a… "

Rindy sat searching for the correct word to say, thinking how to pronounce it. As Rindy thought, Carol knew what she wanted to say and encouraged her. "A what?"

"Conscious…"

"Conscientious?"

"Conscientious objector," Rindy declared, then turned back to her homework assignment. "Like in that movie we saw with the little boy chasing the goose around."

Glancing over the last two questions on the page, Rindy picked up her pencil to fill them in. She slid her workbook across the table for her mother to check, then happily watched her check all the answers between bites of mashed turnip and parsnip. "One little mistake. Agreement. Do you want me to tell you?"

Taking the workbook back, Rindy again read through the answers, biting the corner of her lip as she read. Carol watched, waiting for her to take the pencil in her hand and flip it around for the eraser. After a moment, she saw Rindy make the correction then flip the book around again for her to check. Carol smiled, nothing Rindy had found the error and fixed it. "Why?"

"Because it's two girls. You'd think I'd know that… " Rindy teased back; Carol winked in acknowledgement.

The door at the other end of the apartment opened and they both heard footsteps trudge down the hallway. Therese wandered into the room, no shoes on, and walked straight up to Carol, kissing her on the cheek. She remained behind her chair, draping her arms over Carol's shoulders and resting her chin on top of Carol's head.

"What are we doing?" Therese softly asked, concerned she was interrupting a serious conversation as she noted the books on the table and Carol's quiet demeanor.

"Hi, Therese," Rindy said she straightened out the papers and books that were open. "I'm finishing my homework."

Angling her head to the side, Therese looked to Carol for an answer. "I'm eating dinner," she replied. After Carol took the last bite and swallowed, added, "and watching Rindy finish her homework."

"I'll watch too." Therese smiled down to Rindy who looked up at her with a worried expression.

"So much pressure," she teased as she answered the last couple of questions in her assignment the last questions in her assignment book.

8:30 p.m.

Therese didn't say a word as she approached Carol who was sitting at the mahogany desk in their bedroom, busy scribbling away in her notebook as she had become so accustom to doing for an hour on Thursday evenings. She walked up behind Carol and put her arms around her, much like she had earlier when she and Rindy were seated at the dining table, startling her and causing Carol to jump in her seat. She hadn't been writing, only staring at the half-filled page and blinking every few seconds.

"You're a million miles away," Therese whispered commented as Carol put her pen down in the middle crease of the notebook so it wouldn't roll away. The composition book remained open; Therese could scarcely make out the black smudges of writing on the left side. On first look, Therese saw how Carol had made it to the final page of her notebook.

Carol never hid the fact that she spent an hour writing in her notebook every Thursday evening after her visit to the analyst. A couple years earlier, while busy searching for the telephone bill that she thought was overdue, Therese had found five notebooks tucked into one of the desk drawers: three of which were completely empty and two of which were filled with Carol's careful script in varying black or blue inks. She wasn't sure if they were diaries, they were filled with a wide array of entries or lists about every topic imaginable. Sometimes, she noted they were almost vocabulary words, like Reader's Digest Word Power; other times, a paragraph about a movie that Therese remembered the two of them having seen together or a song from the radio they might have danced to; some pages were her own rough sketches of furniture with dimensions, dates, and type of material noted.

Most of the pages of the couple of notebooks Therese had seen were filled with Carol's thoughts and private writings; she never delved into those pages. She did tell her, however, that she had found a notebook while looking for that phone bill, and whatever she was doing with the notebooks was her business. All Carol remembered was giving her a hug and a kiss, and telling her it was all part of the real ongoing course of treatment she had taken up since they had moved in together.

Therese said nothing further, lowering her head to rest on top of Carol's, calmly breathing in and out, inhaling her unique perfume, nuzzling the side of her neck. She released her arms and raked her fingers on down to her lower back where she rubbed her fingers in a lazy circle along the lumbar segment of her spine. Carol twisted her around to pull her onto her lap, making Therese shriek with laughter. With her chin resting on her shoulder and their cheeks pressed together as they both stared forward, Carol quietly held her, neither speaking for the longest time as they sat comfortably together.

"Just," Carol suddenly began after a considerable period of silence, "I missed you today. I have a lot on my mind."

That was when Therese noticed the sheets of paper next to Carol's notebook. Neatly typewritten pages containing question after question, all extremely personal in nature. "What's this?"

"My fifteen-year college reunion is coming up. That's a questionnaire for us illustrious alumnae."

"When is it?"

"It's the weekend of Jack's graduation," Carol answered. "I don't know if I could handle two social engagements."

"Do you want to go?"

"Yes and no."

"Yes?"

"Because it would be nice to attend. I didn't go to my five-year one, that was when I was in France; and my ten-year was when everything came to a head with Harge. I hear it's lovely, I mean, I remember the reunion gathering the year I graduated, but… I recall feeling a little sad watching all the alumnae in the parade, wondering if they had ever felt how I felt watching them. If they were somehow trying to recapture that moment before they got… trapped."

"You were married too."

Carol laughed. "True, but I never told anyone. That was the war for you. Besides, I didn't exactly have the most typical of marriages since Harge and I weren't actually - together - until after the war."

"And no?"

"Because… I don't have any connection to those people. I don't want to have to skirt around explaining myself or listen to them drone on about their husbands and children. I'd end up just like all of them, talking about my husband who passed away, discussing Rindy, all the while excluding any mention of you from that discussion when you mean so much to me and deep down, I'd want to blurt out, 'My Therese is simply amazing and the greatest, most talented photographer you'll ever meet, not to mention the most tender, most generous lover. The things she can do with… '"

Therese swatted her arm then angled her head to gently kiss her on the cheek. "Stop," she joked, unable to stop grinning. "Whatever you decide. I know I can't go with you… " Her voice was sad as she began to flip through the pages, furrowing her brow as she scanned the questionnaire. "This sure seems to suppose you have a husband and one child at minimum. Like there's no life outside of that," she scoffed. "Is it a matter of how you're going to answer this or as whom you're going to answer this?"

"If I answer this at all," clarified Carol. Before continuing, she swiped her hand up and down Therese's arm a few times until reaching for the cuff so she could graze her fingertips against bare skin rather than the cashmere of her sweater. "And sweetheart, you can certainly come along. You and Rindy. But truthfully, I would much rather spend the entire weekend with everyone in Greenwich, having a marvelous time. We are hosting after all."

Therese pulled her own arm up so she could reach Carol's hand with her lips to kiss her. With every touch and every caress, Carol became more at ease, still tightening her hold on Therese who was still somehow precariously balanced on Carol's lap. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

"I've been thinking about quitting. My job. Instead of stopping in a month or so for the summer to be home with Rindy, then picking up again in the fall, I'm thinking about not returning to work come September. In fact, not returning to work until she goes to high school."

"How come?"

"I want her to be smart and well-rounded and… happy."

"She is all those things, Carol. She has her piano lessons, and her tutoring on Saturday mornings. We take her to museums, the theater, movies, road trips. She has fantastically adjusted to her new school and friends, living here with us… with me. I think she's doing alright given how the past year has been for her."

"I suppose I want to get some of that time back, those years where we were living apart."

"You know you can't - "

"I can be here now though. We don't need the money, I don't - need - to work, I don't need to prove anything to anyone anymore. I have no one who needs to be impressed other than myself." Carol took a deep breath then pressed her lips to the side of Therese's neck. "But it wouldn't be fair to you though when you work so hard."

"Carol," Therese squirmed as she caught her breath from the sensation of Carol kissing and nuzzling her neck, "it's fine with me. I love what I do. I know you love what you do as well, but you love Rindy much, much more."

"It's just… it feels like it would be a betrayal of everything I have tried to accomplish since the divorce."

Therese shook her head and tugged at the arm around her waist. "'Tried'?" You should be saying have accomplished. Think of where you were four years ago, before… before we moved in together, before I gave you that ring," she added, smiling even though Carol couldn't see her expression. Pausing in her speech again, Therese stood up and turned herself around to face Carol, placing herself astride one of her legs rather than her lap. "Look how far you've come."

"There is… one thing I've thought of."

"Hmmm?"

"Maybe… opening my own shop. Be my own boss. I don't want to feel guilty every time I want to do something with Rindy on a weekday. I could hire people, Rindy could come there after school a few days a week, I could take off whenever necessary."

"You know," Therese said as she reached to the back of Carol's blouse and seeking the zipper pull, "I think that sounds like an even better plan than outright quitting… " She began to tug down the zipper, too slow for Carol's liking. "I could come up to the shop around lunchtime, every day or two or three. Maybe you have a private little area for just us two… I think we could mutually find a benefit to that."

"Oh?"

Therese wasn't certain if the sound Carol had made was a question to elaborate on what she had just said or if it was a soft moan because of the way her breath tickled Carol's ear as she spoke. "Do it," Therese urged as she kept pulling the zipper slowly down, trailing her index finger along the silk-covered spine.

"Well, when you put it in those terms… "

April 25, 1957

Dear Mrs. Montero:

You've asked members of the Class of 1942 to anonymously respond to the enclosed questionnaire in order to have an "honest, soul-searching picture of what we have become." I can't say that I have necessarily "become" whatever it is I'm supposed to have become in the fifteen years since graduation as I have simply, and wholeheartedly, embraced the person I have always been and have always known myself to be.

I would like to preface your reading through my questionnaire responses with the following: I have always known and always accepted the fact that I prefer the intimate companionship of women. Despite this important facet of myself, I was married, but I needn't bore you with the why, the what, and the where of those details as to how I found myself in that situation. What matters is that after ten years of marriage, one child, and extra-marital liaisons (on my part, with women), my husband and I divorced.

During our period of separation, I met someone who changed my life. And I hers. We have been together (and living together) for the past four years. On my ring finger, I wear the engraved rose gold band she gave me a few years ago; she wears the ruby necklace I gave her for Christmas that same year. Notwithstanding the limitations of human biology, as far as I am concerned, she is just as much the mother of the child I had with my husband as I am. Since my ex-husband's death last year, we have both taken on the responsibility of raising her. Therefore, throughout your questionnaire, in which you preface questions with "your husband," please note that I am responding with her in mind as my "husband," regardless of the fact I would never, in a thousand years, debase her by imparting that title upon her.

Will you spot me at the reunion? Most likely no. My nephew and his boyfriend (yes, you read that properly) graduate from preparatory school and we have a large family gathering planned at our summer home. A gathering where no one attending need pretend they are someone other than who they truly are. I would much prefer to be surrounded by the family and friends who I dearly love than pretend to be someone I am not.

In the off chance I do attend, note that I would quietly blend into the background, dressed in white with my red sash just like the rest of you, and you would be none the wiser. Despite these notations concerning my personal affairs and preferences, I sincerely hope that you will still accept my questionnaire as an enlightening Portrait of Madame X...