Eclipse

PART I: CAROL

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The marble had cracked. “It’s nothing uncommon,” Harge had said. “It occurs around areas of stress, and this one is right next to the sink.” An almost straight line, the thin, nearly imperceptible fracture was still there. He never fixed it. Carol couldn’t feel it under her thumb, but she saw it even if no one else did. She stood by the window, and longed to be outside. The purple crocuses were shooting out of the ground, but the wind had a mean, cold streak to it.       

“You can go home now, Florence.” The brown-haired woman, who had stepped into the kitchen, had an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ll take it from here.” The elderly lady finished putting the glasses and the plates in the dishwasher and nodded quietly. Her eyes red-rimmed and heavy, she looked older than her sixty years.

“Thank you, Florence,” Carol said, knowing it was expected of her. For the past half an hour, she had waited for her husband’s old nanny to leave. She needed peace and quiet after all those people whose hands she had shaken, after all the well-meaning platitudes she had had to endure. Carol didn’t care for Florence, she never had. She had never stopped fussing over her husband, the son she had thought of as one of her own. Tight-lipped, Florence retreated to the foyer. She put on her overcoat and left her keys on top of the small drawer under a silver framed mirror.  

“Goodbye, Mrs. Aird,” she said without looking at Carol. “Goodbye, Ms. Gerhard.” The door made hardly any sound as it closed behind her.

The day had been an excruciatingly long one, and as it turned into a late evening, Carol felt drained and disillusioned. Her friend was busy tidying up the living room, the only space other than kitchen that had been in use today. There were flowers everywhere – lilies, orchids, and roses, all white and depressing, she thought. Everything about the room seemed washed out of colors, bleak and somber in a way she couldn’t possibly understand or appreciate.

“You should go, too, Abby,” Carol said. She was certain her friend was expected at home by now. “Gen will go crazy with the twins if you don’t show up soon.” She sat on the white sofa and kicked her shoes off. The stockinged toes curled against the thick ivory rug.

“Are you sure?” Abby asked cautiously. “I can stay a bit longer, it’s not a problem.” She picked up a coffee cup forgotten on one of the side tables. “Gen wanted to be here today.” Abby looked heartbroken.

“I know, but I’ll be fine, really.” Carol attempted to smile at Abby, and by the look on her friend’s face, she nearly managed to convince her of its authenticity. “Go take care of your boys, darling. They need you.” Abby and Gen had two five-year-old sons, both of whom had fallen ill with the chicken pox. If life hadn’t been hectic enough with two lively boys disrupting their decade old routine, fretting over their health had thrown it completely for a loop.

“Well, okay,” Abby agreed at last. “But I’ll call and check on you later.”

Carol found Abby’s uneasiness endearing. Not that it was any surprise, she knew her to be endlessly caring and affectionate. “Don’t you dare,” she said in mock reproach. “I’m going to turn in real early tonight, and the last thing I want is for you to interrupt my sleep.” Sitting next to Carol for a while longer, Abby hugged her tightly. The warm, long embrace was welcome, but it took all of Carol’s willpower not to give in to the sobs embedded deep within. 

When Carol was finally alone, she listened to the unbroken silence that seemed to encompass all objects, the paraphernalia of a life lived, around her. She tried to think where she had bought them from, if any of them had been a gift from Harge, but none of what she saw spoke to her. Everything was still and muted. 

The cloying scent of the flowers wafted in the air, and it made her sick. It got to the point where she had to hurry to the bathroom to throw up. Whatever little she had managed to digest that day surged out violently, rendering her weak and susceptible to all the mixed emotions wallowing inside her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if they were real or just a side effect of her wretched state.

She returned to the living room, took the vases to the kitchen and emptied them into the trash bin. Its lid closed with a sharp clang. Carol turned out the lights, and lingered a minute more in the dark living room. She was tired, maybe more than she had ever been in her life, and she longed to close her eyes and rest. She got ready for bed, slid between the clean sheets Abby had thoughtfully put there for her. The bedroom’s window ajar, she lay down waiting for sleep, for a dreamless night, should she get so lucky.

But it was still early, and Carol knew it, yet she had hoped against hope, that somehow she could skip the remnants of the day and wake up to a new, pristine one. It wasn’t meant to be. She got up, but instead of wearing her robe, she put on her jeans, a warm sweater and a coat.  She wasn’t going to stay at home.

Harge’s car was still at the shop, Carol remembered. She had her handbag and wallet, though. After a couple of blocks, she managed to wave a cab with a light on.

“Where to, ma’am?” The driver had dark, unruly hair and surprisingly small fists that clutched the steering wheel. On the back of his hands Carol saw tattooed wings. The license attached to the partition had the name ‘Eros’ printed on it.

“Could you by any chance drive me to Poughkeepsie?” Carol could have sworn she hadn’t known what she was about to ask before she had said it. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Poughkeepsie?” the young man asked, surprised. “You know I can’t do that. And even if I could, it’s at least an hour and a half’s drive.” Scratching the back of his head, he stared at Carol through the rear view mirror.

Despondent, Carol sank back in her seat. The corners of her mouth started to twitch uncontrollably, and a sob escaped her mouth.

“Are you crying?” Eros asked, confused. “Aww… don’t cry, lady.” His eyes darted around helplessly, but the neighborhood looked deserted.

“I’m sorry,” Carol mumbled, ashamed of her erratic behavior.

“It’s okay,” Eros said. “Look, why don’t you stick along. I need to take my Nana to Hartsdale later tonight, and I guess I could drive you all the way up there after that…” Sighing, he clearly wasn’t at all sure what he was doing. “But it’s going to cost you big time.”

Carol wasn’t at all discouraged by his obvious attempt to get her to give up her plan. “I have money,” she stated quietly.

“Alright then,” the man said. “We’ll have to swing by my place to switch cars.” He turned the cab around and headed uptown. They drove along the FDR Drive, crossing the Willis Avenue Bridge and passing Yankee Stadium. When the Harlem River curved to the left, they kept on going straight ahead, through the Van Cortlandt Park, stopping only at Yonkers to pick up the grandma who was waiting for him in front of an apartment building on Webster Avenue.

They left the cab by the curb and got into the car Eros had mentioned earlier, an unimpressive but well-kept Honda. Smiling self-consciously, Carol sat next to the woman who looked both ancient and ageless to her. Wrapped in a shawl, she reminded Carol of a matryoshka doll, one of those wooden figures which separate, top from bottom, to always reveal another, smaller one inside.

The old woman smiled and said something Carol didn’t understand. She said it again and laughed, and her happy laughter filled the small space entirely. “Don’t mind Nana,” Eros quipped, glancing at Carol through the mirror. “I’m afraid she doesn’t live in this world anymore.” He beamed at her grandma affectionately.

“What did she say?” Carol asked, curious to know what it was that had prompted the woman to speak in the first place.

“It doesn’t make any sense, really,” Eros chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road. “She said ‘she will be beautiful’.” His winged hands flexed over the steering wheel. “Nana hardly ever makes sense these days.” He spoke in a language Carol didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, it was funny enough to coax another laugh out of the old woman.

Once they had made it to Hartsdale, Eros got out and opened the rear door for his grandma. Before she left, she surprised Carol by grabbing her hands and squeezing them warmly. Grinning knowingly, she repeated her strange words. “You said it again, didn’t you?” Carol asked her. The woman’s round face and quaint almond eyes appealed to her, and Carol wondered if she somehow saw right through her.

Carol must have dozed off, since the rest of the journey seemed to fly by. “Here we are,” Eros confirmed. “Any particular place you’d like to go to?” He was impatient to head back home.

“Could you drive me to the observatory?” Carol asked. She wanted to see the place where she had spent so many nights while studying.          

Only when the taillights of Eros’ Honda disappeared from view, it occurred to Carol to check the time. 10.15 PM. The Class of 1951 Observatory on the Vassar College campus looked just like she remembered it: a central building with a half round roof connected two different-sized domes, the ones with the main telescopes. Both domes had a slit in the roof that opened during observing. Now they were closed.

Carol walked to the back entrance and banged on the door. It had gotten dark, and she was cold, and the fact that there were no cars parked nearby disturbed her. Why did I come here? she asked herself. What on earth possessed me to go through all this trouble to get here today? She couldn’t answer it. She had never been an impulsive person.    

Just as she was about to leave and head toward the student apartments on foot, the door opened. “Are you looking for someone?” asked a soft voice behind her. Carol turned around and saw a young woman standing in the doorway. She had very dark, almost black, cropped hair, and kind, curious eyes.

“I thought I could attend a show,” Carol said simply even though her eyelids were heavy and drooping.      

“I’m afraid we’re open to the public only on Wednesdays, weather permitting” the woman said apologetically. “Maybe you can come back then?” She was on her way out, Carol noticed.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Carol said. “Thank you.” She turned away to leave. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard hasty footsteps approaching.

“Hey…” the young woman said, smiling. “I have my car over on the main campus, and I can give you a lift, if you like?” She was slightly out of breath, having run after Carol.

“You’re very kind. Maybe you could drop me off at the train station?” Carol asked.

“Depends on where you’re going,” the woman said. “There aren’t many trains that leave this late. Maybe none.” 

“I need to get back to Manhattan,” Carol stated, distressed by what she had just learned. “It was foolish of me to come here out of some silly whim. I wasn’t thinking.” Squinting her eyes shut, Carol cursed her own stupidity. She folded her arms tightly against her chest to keep the warmth from escaping.

“Manhattan?” her companion repeated, catching her step. “And you came here just for the show? Now I feel bad.” The woman shoved her hands in her pants’ pockets and grew silent for a second. “Listen, unless it’s absolutely necessary for you to get back home, I suggest you stay here till tomorrow,” she started out. “I live in a commune, and we have plenty of space. Why don’t you crash with us for the night?”

Carol could see she was being sincere. “Well, I don’t know…” In any other circumstances she could have called Abby who would have come and picked her up, if somewhat begrudgingly. Now she didn’t know what would be the correct thing to do.

“There’s nothing to know,” the woman decided. “I’m Therese, and I absolutely insist you stay with us.” Her smile lit up her entire face, sweeping across the rosy cheeks and climbing all the way up to her mischievous eyes. Most of all, it made Carol want to say yes against her better judgment. She didn’t have to, though, for Therese read what was in her mind. “Why don’t you call home and tell whomever it is you need to notify, that you’re safe and sound and spending the night with new friends?” Therese’s car stood waiting in front of the Athletics Center.

“I don’t need to call anyone,” Carol said. For the first time in a year, she didn’t have to think about explaining her comings and goings to another soul.

“What was your name again?” Therese asked once they had left the campus area behind them. Carol had forgotten to introduce herself.

“Carol,” she said, looking at Therese intently.

“Carol,” Therese repeated, glancing back at her.

The apartment Therese shared with her friends was spacious, but at first sight it still didn’t appear to have enough room for the people who inhabited it. At least that’s what Carol thought seeing the motley crew of Vassar students lounging on the floor or on the mismatched furniture sprinkled around the main living area.  

“Everybody, this is Carol,” Therese informed her cohabitants. “She’s going to stay here tonight.” Preoccupied with their own interests, only two of her friends raised their hands to a lackluster greeting. For Carol, it was a relief. She hadn’t looked forward to a group meeting of any kind, not after today. When Therese suggested they go to her room, she gratefully accepted the offer.

“Sam’s away for a couple of days, so you can sleep in her room,” Therese explained. “We share a bathroom, so if you need to use it at night, you’ll have to pass through mine. I hope it’s okay with you?” Carol didn’t mind the arrangement. She was starting to feel the strain again, the sleepless nights weighing heavily on her shoulders. When Therese asked if she would like to have a cup of tea with her, she didn’t, however, want to be impolite and retire too soon.

Carol sipped her tea bravely, but the physical and mental exhaustion was getting the better of her. She gazed at Therese but understood very little, the words and the sentences undulating hopelessly out of her reach. “Carol, you’re drifting,” Therese said. “You need to go to bed.” She helped Carol up on her wobbly feet, and guided her gently to Sam’s room. “Good night, sleepyhead.”                              

Three hours later Carol woke up, nauseous once more. Panicking, she stumbled toward the adjoining door and the bathroom she knew to be only a few quick paces away. She made it in just in time, and she didn’t leave until she was absolutely certain she couldn’t possibly vomit more than she already had. Gasping, Carol got up from the tile floor and glanced in the mirror. Sweaty strands of hair had stuck on her forehead, and she looked like a mess.

When Carol was half way back to Sam’s room, a light was turned on. “Don’t… please,” she mumbled. Therese turned it off, but the glow of the streetlamps was still enough to reveal the sorry state she was in. Standing there in the middle of the floor, wearing just a T-shirt and panties, Carol felt exposed and all too vulnerable to hide behind any façade. Her shoulders jerking, she couldn’t stop the tears or the sobs anymore.  

“Come here,” Therese said, tenderly. She moved next to the wall, clearing the space in front of her. Her head bowed, Carol did as she was told and lay down next to her on the narrow mattress.

“I buried my husband today.” Carol’s truth broke the silence, and it ended the tears, for now. With her back turned against a stranger, she could tell it like it was. Therese remained quiet, but her hand caressed Carol’s back and side, injecting calm to temper the pain.