The photo hung off the edge of the mirror back at the house, and Carol thought of it with a certain fondness.

Carol had been at Therese's apartment a few times since the restaurant meeting; the last time they met together, she had walked Carol through the process of photo development. She could remember the look of distaste, maybe with added embarrassment on Therese's face. "It's not very good," she stated. Carol felt as though there had been a few other things she wanted to pick apart, but Carol had loved the photo. It was a slight touch out of focus, and the camera had been held at an odd angle, but it gave her a sort of pleasure to look at. Perfectly imperfect, despite Therese's frets and qualms.

Rindy had seemed to like the photo as well. She didn't really care about the other woman in the photo (a decidedly good thing, because Carol wouldn't have known how to speak about Therese in the presence of her own child), but had instead deemed it a good photo because "mommy looks pleased". The implication that Carol was carrying herself more depressedly than she was in the past was not exactly an implication she cared much for. Then again, Rindy was only but a child, and children weren't exactly tainted by the complications of social interaction.

The child sat patiently, swinging her feet side to side in time to the music. Harge had bought her the CD to present to her on a date, and as much as their animosity towards each other ruined any sort of chance they had at reconciliation, she had to admit that his taste in music was damned good.

This song in particular had been something that Carol listened to often, but she had never exactly taken the time to listen to the finer details of the song, or even really analyze the lyrics. A breezy piano hammered out an interlude that reminded Carol of puddled rain.

I really like the differences you bring when you arrive… You didn't tell your wife you're here, and baby, that's alright…

Carol's train of thought stopped to focus on the lyrics. The song had never carried any sort of connotation to her before, and before she could stop herself, a certain Therese popped into her mind. Lord, how she despised herself for it. She hadn't noticed how tight her grip had been around the steering wheel until a thread of pain shot through her knuckle.

Tell me how long until you say you love me… Tell me how long until you say you're mine… Call me morning, noon or night, I'll make it rain or shine…

A breath was sucked in through her teeth. Rindy had started humming the melody, bobbing her head gently to the beat. An endearing sight, truly, but it was a little dampened by Carol's own stupid thoughts and her inability to control them. A phrase from maybe a couple of years ago struck her suddenly, with the weight of a semi. It's basically reverse psychology; the more you try to convince yourself you're not into this thing, the more you get into it.

It might have been proving true now. Carol changed the song the moment it started delving into words about affairs. Rindy made a noise of protest for only a fraction of a second before the next song started playing.

They stopped at the Aird residence. Harge's mother stepped out of the house the moment she had seen Carol's vehicle pull up to the front. Holding back a grimace, she turned down the music with one hand and rolled down the windows with another. "Carol," she said with what might have been distaste. Carol smiled nervously.

"Jennifer," she greeted in turn. It was a hardly disguised secret that Jennifer had never exactly been a fan of her. For the most picky reasons, really. Owning a piano but never caring to play it and never playing with a bridge. How she wore her hair, how she dressed, her occupation and everything inbetween. While it annoyed her at times, it more or less just made her uneasy.

"Rindy's with you?"

"Yes, of course, she's in back."

"Let her out, then." Jennifer paused for a moment, then relented. "Harge said he wanted to see you. He's waiting in the kitchen."

Despite the fact that her tone left very little room for discussion, if any, Carol had no desire to see Harge. "He can call me if he wants to see me that badly." That aspect of Carol's personality too, the flightiness, was another reason that Jennifer didn't like her.

"He'd really like to see you."

The look shared between the two of them was tense and stormy. Carol realized, only at that moment that there wasn't anything substantial stopping her from letting Rindy out and then just booking it. Jennifer might forget about this in a week (the conviction sounded as weak as a dying lighter), and then Carol could pick up Rindy with only the tiniest pricks of anxiety in her gut. Yet Jennifer had a way of making it seem like she could only do things one way: hers.

"... Fine," Carol said finally. One day she'd learn to say no.

Rindy had been the first to run to Harge. He nearly dropped the cup of coffee he'd been rolling around idly. He might have been looking at business reports, or maybe it was just an article or printed email. "How's my little girl?" he asked with a smile, pulling Rindy closer to him. Carol leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"I'm good," Rindy replied cheerily, snuggling into his sleeve. "Mommy got me ice cream. Cheesecake flavoured."

Harge's smile widened, perhaps at the slur in Rindy's voice. She had yet to learn how to pronounce her L's properly and Carol had been wrong in thinking that Harge would be annoyed with that. Carol had been wrong about Harge in general, she supposed.

"How's my other girl?" He asked, turning to look up at her.

Carol's breath hitched.

"Don't. Don't say that," she whispered softly, as though Rindy couldn't hear her, if it would mean the end of the world. I'm not your girl. I was never your woman. Yours. Then, more loudly, "Your mother said you wanted to speak to me." So get on with it, she'd have liked to add, but there was something of a vulnerability in Harge's expression. And then she began to remember the things she'd said behind his back, to other people, to herself. He's incapable of love, except for maybe Rindy. That was not the look of the man Carol had wed for ten years.

She was feeling oddly compassionate.

"Yes, well…" His voice trailed off, and his thumbs danced with each other in Rindy's lap. "Sy Harrison's wife. Jeanette? Jeanette. She's holding a party and she asked me to invite you. On the Thursday. Do with that what you will."

Carol searched her mind for an excuse. Parties with Harge were never parties for her, they were parties where she was nothing more than the pretty mink coat draped around his arm, the eye candy. His validation that he had made it in life, that he had everything other people wanted and desired. "I have plans," she settled for simply.

"You can't reschedule?" Was that the tiny bits of desperation bleeding into his voice? Carol resolved to narrow her eyes; You instigated this. "Carol… Please."

It might have been the softness of his voice, the pleading in his eyes. It might have just been that he simply wasn't yelling at her, and that despite the fact she knew she was being used again, they knew. They both knew that she was done for.

She wasn't getting any better at saying no. But. "Could you call Jeanette and ask if I'm allowed to bring a friend?"

"Abby?" She despised the venom in his voice. Perhaps he might not have seen it, but it was there, lingering in his words, coiled and swirling like a snake ready to pounce. Carol felt self-conscious suddenly, as though there was something wrong with her for wanting to remain friends.

"No," Carol replied. She had not told Harge of Therese, and she would not tell him of her. The things he'd say came to mind and she hated that she was afraid. "You haven't met her before." Would Therese like Harge? No, she wouldn't. He was all business, all bark, a threatening and stormy man. She might think him dull. Unlike Therese, who could light up the room simply by existing.

A moment of silence passed between them. Rindy inched out of Harge's arms and ran up to her room.

"That's not all you wanted."

"No, it isn't." Harge agreed. "But I think we can talk about it another time. When we're both ready for it." Carol nodded. The air was suffocating, and she didn't want to be in this stuffy room with a man she didn't like. She hardly thought she'd ever be ready.

She hadn't really been sure that Therese would want to go to the party in the first place. Yet, here she was, actual angel incarnate. "Bless you," Carol said hurriedly, embracing Therese without much of a second thought. In the back of her mind, she registered the way Therese stiffened and awkwardly tried to return, but Carol's head was spinning. "Bless you, Therese."

"Oh, it sounded fun," Therese tried to explain, choked up, but Carol supposed that she hadn't really wanted to do this in the first place. "Your ex-husband is named Harge, right?"

"Yes," Carol said, slowing down the pace. They were almost at Jeanette's now. She had suggested that they walk to the place, because they had the time and the weather was decent. Though in actuality, she wouldn't mind being late, she wouldn't mind simply ditching, and she especially wouldn't mind spending all that lost time with Therese.

"I can stay by your side the whole night. If… If that's what you want, of course." She sounded unsure, as though there was a sort of thing she wasn't supposed to impose on Carol.

"Please," she responded, sounding far more anxious than what she wanted to let on. She forced out a laugh. "I was under the impression that you would, actually."

Jeanette greeted the two of them with a warm smile and a European greeting Carol's way. "Harge told me you might show up," she said pleasantly, before her eyes settled on Therese. "She's a friend of yours, Carol?"

"Yes," Carol responded, gesturing to the woman beside her. "Jeanette, this is Therese. Therese? Jeanette." Jeanette seemed to take to Therese quite well, and she ushered them on while babbling about something like desserts. They slipped away as the next wave of guests were coming in, sharing a look of vague amusement.

As soon as the two were out of earshot, Therese leaned over to Carol. "She's an energetic character, isn't she?"

Harge was waiting for them—for Carol in the living room. Amongst the hustle and bustle of dancing couples, his eyes sought her out. Dimly aware of Therese's fingers ghosting the sleeve of her dress, she nodded to nothing. "That's him, over there."

Therese had nothing to say, but Harge certainly did. He walked towards them slowly with an air of resignation, an attempt to seem courteous. "Carol, you're here." He attempted the same greeting as Jeanette, only Carol knew he'd be kissing more than the air next to her cheek, and she drew away.

"This is Therese Semco," she said good-naturedly, waving an arm in Therese's general direction. "Therese, this is Hargess Aird."

"Pleased to meet you," said Therese, extending a hand for Harge to take. He stared at it with a sort of distaste before her hand was lowered, embarrassed.

Carol cleared her throat. "Jeanette mentioned sweets, at the door. Therese and I wanted to grab something, before they're all gone."

Harge let them leave, and she was sure that even Therese could feel the disappointment that hung around him. He had wanted to see Carol alone, he wanted… He wanted Carol. "He's a controlling man," she said out loud, half to Therese and half to the air. "The hypocrisy is baffling."

"Hypocrisy?" Therese mirrored before she stuck a forkful of sponge cake into her mouth.

Carol sighed. She needed a drink and a cigarette, but she'd left her purse in the car and she didn't have a mind to go back for it. She didn't want to ask Therese either. She'd have to settle for the whiskey. "You know? He thinks I might change my mind about the divorce someday. God, if only I had the ability to; Rindy would be so much better off for it." It occurred to her that she hadn't really mentioned Rindy to Therese. "We had a child," she explained hurriedly. "She gets bounced between the two of us. It's a hassle."

"I can imagine," Therese mumbled behind another bite of cake.

Carol looked to her. It very much could have been the alcohol talking, as it had that first night at the bar. "You're stunning in that dress, Therese. You clean up incredibly well." Was Therese aware of that? Aware of how her voice hung in the air, deep and wanting something that could never really be promised. She could have added that Richard was lucky, and a lucky man he was, but to compromise a friendship so early? She was a little tipsy, but not stupid.

Therese met her gaze nervously, as though she was trying to hide behind the porcelain plate and the yellow pastry atop of it. There was a coveted thankfulness in her eyes, but Carol's eyes were roaming again.

"How's the cake taste?" Carol decided to ask, shifting gears. Maybe she made Therese uncomfortable, she was overstepping boundaries. Therese seemed to be a guilt-driven person, and undoubtedly the idea that she was only sticking around with Carol because she was playing the role of distressed and bored housewife all too well was a possibility. A sobering, disquieting one.

The fork, another piece of cake hanging off it was waved around Carol's lips. "Try it for yourself?" The statement was bold, especially considering who it was coming from. She smiled feeling giddy and goofy, and wrapped her lips around it. The silly atmosphere was lost immediately and instead filled with something heavier. Therese's lips were parted just a bit, Carol took in the flavour of the cake.

"Mmm." Carol pulled back, giving a parting lick to the fork, testing her luck. Therese looked away nervously, gaze flicking anywhere, everywhere. An impish little grin came to her lips, unbidden.

The alcohol, definitely the alcohol.

"You should get a new fork," she said, and propped an elbow up on the table.

"It's fine."

"Oh?"

To prove her point, or perhaps to try and fluster Carol, Therese scooped a particularly large portion of the cake into her mouth. Carol snorted in a halfhearted attempt to hold back a laugh; the poor thing looked ridiculous.

Harge hadn't bothered them for the rest of the party, but Carol's eyes did nervously peer around to look at him, to make sure that he wasn't coming up. The topic of the discussion earlier that week came to mind, but Therese by her side kept those worries in a much warmer, much further place.