"Give me your coat, dear," Carol said, extending her hand toward Therese. Her eyes were heavy with sadness but carried a kind of deep, quiet care. Perhaps she's thinking about her daughter, Therese thought. What was her name again? The girl Carol had briefly mentioned when they were at the restaurant.
Carol hung the coat, her firm yet gentle hands lingering on the fabric as if lost in thought.
It was the first sunny day in ages—or maybe just the first one Therese had truly noticed. The sunlight poured through Carol's window, illuminating the room, catching every speck of swirling dust. The light cast a long shadow of Carol's silhouette: elegant, yet even her shadow seemed less mysterious than the woman herself. How stunning the sunlight looked as it filtered through her blonde hair, threading through the strands to reach her gray eyes.
"What are you thinking, Therese?"
Therese snapped out of her reverie, realizing she had been silent for several moments.
"Oh... I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something."
"Or someone?" Carol's smirk held a playful edge, but it sent Therese's cheeks flushing red. Her heart raced, and a wave of shame coursed through her.
"What? No!" Therese's attempt to sound calm fell flat.
"So you weren't thinking about Richard?" Carol's smile widened, but it unsettled Therese. Why would she think of him? And more so, why would the thought of her thinking about Richard make Carol smile like that?
"No, I wasn't thinking about him," Therese said, unintentionally emphasizing the word him. She met Carol's eyes. For a fleeting moment, Carol's smile faded, and something unspoken flickered in her gaze. But just as quickly, she looked away.
"Would you like a drink?" Carol asked, her tone quieter now.
"Yes."
Carol handed her a glass of whiskey diluted with water. Therese took a small sip, the burn steadying her nerves.
"Do you want to talk about what happened in the city today?" Therese asked, moving the glass in her hands, her eyes steady on Carol's face.
"No." Carol turned her gaze to the window. She does that a lot, Therese thought.
The silence stretched. After another drink, Carol finally spoke.
"It was a hearing. About the divorce." Her voice was calm, but her fingers trembled slightly as she lit a cigarette. Therese nodded, waiting. "Harge wants full custody of Rindy," Carol continued, lowering her glass. "For now, she's staying with him until the next hearing."
"That's absurd. Can he even do that? Is there any point in, I don't know, fighting it?" Therese's heart ached seeing Carol so vulnerable.
"Yes, and yes." Carol sighed. "He can do this—because he... well, it doesn't matter. We'll fight it. Just not right now." Her eyes dropped to the wooden floor beneath them. A faint, sad smile appeared on her lips. "We always played here, on these floors. Rindy hated carpets"
Her voice faltered, and her eyes glistened, but she quickly blinked away the tears, replacing them with a spark of anger. She finished her drink and stood, lighting another cigarette with steady hands.
"I don't know. I need to do something until the hearing. Maybe I'll go away for a while."
"Where would you go?" Therese asked, the ache in her chest tightening.
"Wherever my car takes me." Carol's smile returned, but it was distant, detached.
"For how long?"
"Until the hearing. Maybe a month." Carol's tone grew disinterested.
Therese looked at her, heart sinking. Carol was leaving.