ShadowDance

     Abby Gerhart’s hazel eyes narrowed as she watched Carol light a cigarette.  It was late morning and she’d noticed her best friend had been smoking incessantly since their workday began.  She also could read the signs of agitation in Carol—caged, restless energy, elegant fingers that held her steaming cup of coffee with a white-knuckled grip, and blue gray eyes that darted about in an erratic beat.  Abby took a measured breath, eyeing the other woman with concern and wariness.

     “You’re smoking like a chimney.”  The blunt comment was characteristic of both Abby’s no-nonsense personality and the women’s longstanding friendship.  Now, she watched Carol’s jaw tighten almost imperceptibly, the proud tilt of chin as she raised her eyes.

     “And?” Carol challenged, her throaty voice tight, clipped.

     She’s probably going to bite my head off.  “And I know you, Carol,” came the brusque reply.  “You’re so tightly wound I’m surprised sparks aren’t flying from your heels.”  She paused, then pushed through her hesitation.  “So, what gives?”

     The beautiful blond looked for an ashtray, then snuffed out her cigarette.  “Do you mean, what gives now that Harge wants to take Rindy out of state, or what gives now that I haven’t been able to reach Therese since speaking with her before I left last night?”  She was angry, but Abby could hear a quiver of worry in her friend’s voice.

     “I thought you called her last night when you decided to stay at my place,” Abby noted, feeling the slightest twinge of concern. 

     “I did!  But we got to your place so late and she didn’t answer.  I wasn’t surprised, even though I tried several times.”  She paused for a sip of coffee, trying to find something to soothe her uneasiness.  “I knew I could reach her before she left for work, but she didn’t answer at home, and she’s not at her desk at the Times.”  She expelled a frustrated breath.  “I left a message, but…”  Closing her eyes, Carol admitted her worry to herself.  She would have driven home, but not after that last drink.  And Abby’s place was just so close to the theater, it was surely wiser to stay there.  But none of these thoughts allayed the growing concern, nor the dark clouds she felt gathering in her inner landscape.  Therese, where the hell are you?  Why can’t I reach you?

     Abby lifted a strand of smooth, auburn hair off her forehead, troubled at the situation.  She cleared her throat.  “And you did tell her our plans for the night before you left?  She was clear?”  The other woman shot her a withering glance.  “Of course, I did, Abigail!  Jesus!”  Carol’s hands flailed in the air and her words were punctuated with aggravation.  “What kind of relationship do you think we have?”

     “Lately, a troubled one, whether you talk about it or not.”  Abby was irritated.  “But that’s besides the point at the moment.”  She looked around the small office in which they sat, feeling its close, cramped confines start to seep from her pores.  Standing with an abruptness that startled the edgy Carol, she said, “Look, why don’t you catch a cab and just go find Therese at work?  Or at least find out if she’s not calling you back because she’s out on assignment somewhere?  We’ll both feel much better when you have a chance to talk with her.  And I can certainly hold down the store on my own.  Or close for the afternoon if you need me at some point.”

     Carol set her shoulders, then stood.  Her throat felt tight, and she didn’t quite trust herself to speak.  She nodded instead, then turned to follow Abby from the office.  Graceful, strong, purposeful, proud.  A lioness, thought Abby, as she watched Carol let herself out onto Manhattan’s steamy sidewalks.  Fierce pride, fierce love.

                                                    __________________________________

     The taxi made its way through the sea of people and cars, starts and stops and throngs and a thrumming energy that seemed to propel both the vehicle and its driver, a husky, dark-haired man with an Italian accent.  He could be playing a role in a Hollywood film that would have amused Carol if she had been paying attention.

     But she sat in the back seat, long legs crossed, hips tilted, the slender arc of her neck accentuating her profile.  She gazed steadily out the window, watching the mass of New Yorkers coming and going in their perpetual hurried state.  There was an almost tragic quality to her beauty, a haunted look in her eyes as she hoped for a sight of Therese.  Here, there, somewhere…where are you, Therese?

     She sighed.  The last month or so had been difficult for them.  It hadn’t started out that way.  Carol had shared the news that Harge may be asked to move for work and planned to take Rindy with him.  They had received the news as a united front—against Harge.  The angry responses flowed freely:

     “Fuck no, he’s not!” 

     “Over my dead body!”

     “We’ll fight this, Carol, all the way to court!”

     “I’ll support you no matter what!”

     “My god, I just want to take him out!  No Harge, no issue!”

     These were empowering, mobilizing, energizing, and now and then, full of dark humor.  And then—what had happened?  Carol’s forehead creased and she shook her head.   Somewhere along the way a disengagement had occurred.  One of them had taken the first step backward, and then the other had responded likewise, and then the other, and then the other…leaving them here.  A place where she kept going out with their friends and drinking, and Therese declined the invitations to come and instead stayed home to read and pet Benny.  The younger woman was often sound asleep by the time Carol returned home, and she shot off to work after they’d shared only the most cursory conversation.

     Carol rubbed at her temples, wondering at the vague sense of nostalgia and helplessness that had been washing over her lately, sucking something elemental out to sea with its undertow.  She was slipping more deeply into the sand, and—

     “Here you go, miss!”  The cabbie’s voice announced their arrival, and Carol felt her nerves plucked in the most annoying way.  She paid him, adding a handsome tip, and stepped out into the heat.  It came in waves, even at this relatively early time of day, causing a swelling lassitude that was at distinct odds with her hammering pulse. 

     God, what if something terrible has happened to her?  What will I do?  Fuck Harge!  Noneof thiswould even be happening if not for him!  Carol walked quickly, her long legs striding through space, heels clicking on the polished floor of the lobby, into the elevator, up to the third floor, and straight to the reception desk at the Times.  She stood there, a statuesque beauty in a form fitting pale blue skirt and sleeveless white blouse, peering down at the suddenly wide-eyed, young woman who sat there.

     “Welcome, m’am.  How may I assist you?”

     “I’m a friend of one of your photographers, Ms. Belivet.  May I speak with her, please?”  As the receptionist called back for Therese, Carol examined her skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in the flawless linen. I’m so much more than her friend, and I’m so tired of pretending.  Of course, Therese ishere.  I wonder what Rindy is doing today.  Is this a day camp day?        

     “M’am?  Excuse me?” 

     Carol turned her head upon hearing the receptionist clear her throat, seeing the questioning look in her green eyes.  Green eyes.  “I’m sorry; my mind wandered.  And Ms. Belivet?”  The young woman was shaking her head as she spoke.  “She’s not at her desk, and the admin back there said Ms. Belivet didn’t come in today.”  She smiled sweetly, somehow impossibly young and eager.  “I can give you a note pad to leave a message for when she returns,” she added hopefully.

     Carol shook her head, her silky blond hair brushing her cheek in a gentle wave.  “No, thank you.  I have her home number.  I’ll try her there.”  She nodded briskly.  “Thank you.  You’ve been quite helpful.”  She turned for the elevators, aware her mouth had gone dry.  Not in?  Called off?  Is she home sick and just notanswering the phone?  No, that doesn’t make any sense.  I’ve called too many times!  She wouldn’t ignore my calls.  What if she’s fallen?  And what about Benny? 

     As soon as she departed the elevator, Carol headed for the restroom, her heels hammering in concert with her heart as she walked.  Once there, she gazed in the mirror with a critical eye.  Her cheeks were a bit too pink, hair somewhat untamed.  Reaching into a leather handbag, she removed a comb, running it through the blond strands until they resembled a veil of silk.  Rindy has my hair, just more curls.  Rindy.  The muscles in her jaw tightened.  She smoothed a hand over her flat stomach, then reached into her bag for a cigarette.  Lighting it, Carol took a drag, inhaling deeply.  Therese.  I must get home to Therese!  Two more puffs and she was out into the lobby, walking with command out to the streets of Manhattan, teeming with harried people in every direction.

     There was a line of yellow taxis and she slid into the short queue, graceful but impatient.  A tall, thin gentleman in pleated dress slacks with the requisite short-sleeved, white dress shirt and narrow tie noticed her immediately.  When the taxi approached, he gave a rather humorous half-bow.  “After you, miss,” he obliged with a nod.  Carol responded with a nod and demure smile, folding her long frame into the vehicle.  “Madison and sixty-sixth, please,” she stated, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun and the chaos of the city.

     Drive faster!  I need to get home quickly.  I need to find Therese!  I need to talk to Abby.  I wish I could have a phone in my bag.  Hurry, please hurry.  Carol was usually perfectly fine with driving in New York’s pandemonium, but currently she thought she might vomit from the taxi’s abrupt stopping, turning, and accelerating.  When the driver finally stopped near her apartment building, she tossed some bills over the seat and exited rapidly.

     She hurried through the lobby, barely acknowledging the “Hello, Miss Aird,” offered by the gentleman at the lobby desk, who noted Carol’s vague wave and shrugged.  As the elevator rose, Carol had an unexpected thought of Sr. Alicia who, she was certain, would be telling her to pray at the moment.  But the best she could muster was a deep breath and heavenward glance as she lay her head back against the padded wall.  It felt necessary, however brief.

     She had her keys out as she approached the apartment door.  Letting herself into the quiet apartment, she dropped her bag on the side table and kicked off her heels.  A sheen of perspiration shone on her forehead; her heart pounded uncomfortably.  “Where’s Benny?”  She spoke aloud to herself, noting that the treasured little mutt hadn’t come charging into the room as he typically did upon hearing the door open. 

     “Therese?  Therese darling, are you here?”  She moved with impatience and encroaching fear from room to room, with each step more certain that her partner was not home.  “Benny?”  No Therese; no Benny.  “Sweetheart?”  She’s not here.  Neither is Benny.  God!  Has she left me?  No!  Has she?

     Carol felt thunder roaring in her ears as she came into their bedroom.  The room had a plush carpet and light periwinkle walls that always glowed with warmth when the late day sunshine slanted through the blinds, as if a slumbering inner flame had been ignited.  The color choice had been mutual.  Both Carol and Therese agreed that it invoked a calm, peaceful atmosphere and shone with its own light.  But at the current moment, Carol was immune to peace, especially when she noticed the piece of notepaper that lay atop her pillow.

     She approached with hesitant steps that were completely uncharacteristic to the graceful blond.  Sitting on the side of the bed, she picked up the note and read:

     “Carol, as I’m sure you’re aware, things between us for the last month or so have been quite difficult and—disconnected?  I know you are trying to sort through the issues with Harge and Rindy, but you are also rarely here in our home.  You ask me to go out periodically, but the growing distance between us makes me dread the thought of being with you in a group or at an event.

     I’m not sure what’s going on with me, but I feel uneasy and almost frightened these last few days.  Like the other shoe is going to drop.  And I just need a little space to clear my head, to figure out what’s going on with me, with us…

     I just need to THINK and talk things through with a friend. 

     Sorry to leave you with Benny.  I couldn’t take him with me, so he’s next door with Bonita.  You know how much she loves him.  She said she’ll watch him all day long if we need and promised the kids won’t strangle him.

     I’ll be in touch.

     T.

        Carol sat holding the note, staring at Therese’s precise handwriting.  Her soft hair fell on either side of her face, as if to create privacy around her, a misery booth for their relationship.  She took a breath, trying to get around the sudden stitch in her side; to ease the tension she felt creeping up the back of her neck.  Putting the piece of paper beside her, she reached for the bedside table.  A cigarette. Just onecigarette.

     As she expelled the first lungful of smoke, Carol reached for the phone.  Her heart was beating almost painfully in her chest and the blue smoke stung her eyes.  Shit.  Shit!

     The call rang through.  “Abby?  Can you come over?”