Carol gestured with her hand holding a glass, one finger raised. Therese was certain the glass wouldn't survive the night. They had been drinking whisky for quite some time, but Carol didn't seem drunk until the last glass. Even now, she was relaxed, yet still choosing her words carefully.
"So, is that when you met Abby?" Therese asked, watching as Carol's expression shifted. The lightness vanished. Carol's face turned serious, sober, her piercing eyes cutting through the haze of alcohol.
"No," Carol said, her voice low. She hesitated, then added, "Abby and I met when we were kids."
As she brought the glass to her lips, her fingers faltered. The whisky splashed out, cold liquid soaking through Therese's green blouse.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Carol said, her voice tinged with surprising softness. "Had too much to drink, probably."
Therese jumped up, the icy wetness burning her skin. "It's fine, really—"
"Take it off," Carol interrupted, her tone steady but insistent.
"What?" Therese froze, her body humming with an emotion she couldn't quite name—was it desire? No, it couldn't be. Was it fear?
"Here, let me help," Carol said, her hands brushing lightly against Therese's sides as she lifted the fabric. The world seemed to tilt. For a moment, all Therese could feel was the coolness of Carol's fingers. Her body turned to stone and then came alive again. Carol's hands were so gentle, her voice so soft. The moment lasted only a few seconds but replayed over and over in Therese's mind. Interestingly, Therese saw something more than an apologetic look in Carol's eyes.
"Aren't you cold?" Carol asked while walking away to grab something to wipe the wetness. She smiled.
"A little," Therese returned the smile. "But actually, this reminds me of happy times."
"What? Getting spilled on with ice-cold whisky?" Carol chuckled.
"No," Therese began laughing. "It's just that… Where I grew up, we had a lake not so far away, and my father used to take me there a lot. Sometimes we'd go swimming in autumn or spring, when it was pretty cold outside."
Now Carol was sitting still, giving her full attention to Therese, her eyes filled with empathy and care, her head slowly nodding, ears taking in every word.
"My dad always used to just jump into the cold water, and so did I," Therese said with a smile—not with her lips but her eyes.
A knock shattered the moment. Therese jumped up as though another cold drink had been spilled on her. Carol, however, remained still, as if the story and the moment were somehow more important than the intruder in the house. Then, she snapped back to reality, looking around and grabbing the first thing she saw for Therese to cover up. It was an old cushion with a small floral pattern. Maybe Carol made it, Therese thought, pressing it closer to her chest.
A second later, a light-haired man strode into the living room.
"Harge! What are you doing here?" Carol asked, trying to maintain her calm.
"I can't come into my own home to visit my wife?" he said, raising his eyebrows calmly, but his eyes were filled with rage and disgust. They darted around the room, avoiding Therese.
"Oh, that's bold," he finally said, his gaze settling first on Therese, then on Carol. He stormed out to another room. Carol didn't follow him. She avoided looking at Therese, simply grabbed a shirt and brought it to her.
"Here. Please put this on. I'll be back soon," Carol said, giving Therese the shirt. Her fingers lingered longer on Therese's hand than they should have. Before Carol could leave, Harge returned.
"How do you know my wife?" he asked, looking at Therese.
"I—Well, I—" she stammered, heat rising to her face.
"We met a week or so ago. I wanted some compony, so I called her," Carol said, her voice tired and devoid of patience. Harge's irritation deepened.
"What do you want, Harge?" Carol spoke up again.
"Well, I needed to take some of my things. And believe it or not, Rindy wants to be with her mother for Christmas." His tone grew quieter with each word. Therese could see pain and defeat in Carol's eyes when her daughter was mentioned.
"Will you bring her?" Carol asked in a flat, dry tone, trying to contain her emotions.
"She's in the car outside," Harge said, not looking at his wife. Carol didn't hesitate and started walking to the car, but Harge stopped her. "We're leaving today," he said without eye contact.
"Leaving?" Carol asked in disbelief. "To your parents' house?"
"Yes," Harge said, now meeting her gaze. "Come with us."
"You know I can't." Carol tried to free herself from his grip.
"Yes, you can. Let's spend Christmas together," he insisted, pulling her closer. Therese couldn't bear to see Carol like this. She got up and went to another room, closing the door. After that, she heard shouting, then the outside door opening and closing, but no one came in.
A few moments later, she heard a car drive away and the sound of a door opening again. Then came footsteps and the pour of liquor. There was Carol, glass in hand, pain in her eyes, dried tears on her cheeks, and a defeated look on her face. She reached for a cigarette from the box.
"Just when you think it can't get any worse, you run out of cigarettes," she said, staring blankly into the empty box.
"Tell me where to go, I'll buy some for you. I don't mind, really," Therese offered, wanting to take Carol's pain away.
"You don't have to run out in the middle of nowhere and buy cigarettes," Carol replied, her voice filled with pain and restrained anger. "I'm fine" She tried to contain her emotions but couldn't. Therese felt hurt, wanting to help Carol, but the woman was distant and cold. "I'll take you home," Carol said, finally looking at Therese.
"No, it's okay. I'll take the train," Therese replied, unable to imagine riding with Carol and leaving her to drive back alone.
"Okay," Carol said coldly.
They drove to the station in silence, Carol looking straight ahead, Therese staring out the window.
"Take this," Carol said, handing Therese ten dollars without looking at her.
"What for?" Therese didn't take the money.
"Taxi. For your audition tomorrow. I promised to drive you," Carol said so coldly it felt like ice. Therese couldn't speak anymore, tears gathering in her throat. She stayed silent, slipping the money into the pocket.
On the train, Therese kept replaying the evening: the shouting, the spilled drink, the stories she told Carol, the cold words and looks Carol had thrown at her. But most of all, she thought about what Carol must have felt seeing her daughter but not being able to keep her. A shiver ran through her, and tears began to fall.