Eclipse

The room was flooded with light when Carol woke up. The beige blinds were still partly down but they couldn’t hold any of it back, the sun aiming all its might against their shimmering surface. Her sleep had been thick, impenetrable, and at first she couldn’t recall the events of the previous night. Carol was disoriented, surprised to find herself in a bed other than her own. The duvet had partly fallen off of her, its hem touching the honey-colored floor. The bliss of not remembering, she thought, it never lasts long enough. Too soon her mind pieced the fragments of yesterday together. The stainless steel casket, the grave people around it, their black suits and dresses far removed from life.

“I’d rather you have a wake instead of a boring funeral,” Harge had joked three weeks ago. It was then when Carol had realized he had given up the last shred of hope. After that he had withdrawn to himself as if to prepare for the inevitable he was now ready to face. He had had no more questions, the need to know and to believe having given way to weary indifference. The TV in his room at the hospice had remained turned off permanently, and never once did Carol see him read a magazine or browse a book again. The moments of clarity having become scarce, he had swiftly disappeared into another realm Carol had had no access to.     

Therese. Carol had awakened just once after getting in her bed, and even that must have happened only an hour or so ago. The woman she had accidentally met had clung to her body, her arm wrapped lightly around her. Her steady breathing had warmed Carol’s neck, giving her a soft, easy tempo to give up the conscious thought for a moment longer. Now she was alone in bed. The place next to her was still warm, but she couldn’t say if it was because of Therese or the elfish sun suffusing the white sheets.

She saw the room properly for the first time. There wasn’t much to look at, but the few things present were selected with care: a vintage secretary desk with a swivel chair in front of it, a walnut bookcase stuffed with hardcovers and paperbacks of disproportionate size, and a lush wing chair with a paisley floral design on a rich brown background. Two unpretentious metal lamps stood by to light up the room, one right next to the armchair, another smaller one on the desk top. The walls were painted soft, mossy green with a touch of gray, which appealed to Carol very much.

Therese’s room was in such direct contrast to the mélange of the second-hand items strewn across the living room, it would have seemed almost too thought-out, had it not been for the prints on the wall. Suddenly curious, Carol got up to see them up close. A large one dominated the space above the wing chair, a picture that looked like a photograph of the Milky Way over an arched rock formation. The two smaller ones next to it completed the composition: a print of what Carol thought was the moon in different phases of its eclipse, and a grainy black and white portrait of two women in heavy frocks with a telescope between them.     

“You’re up.” Captivated by what she was inspecting, Carol hadn’t noticed Therese enter the room. She was carrying a breakfast tray.

“Yeah…” Carol said, the corners of her mouth turning to a bashful grin. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.” Only now she became aware of what she was wearing, or, rather, what was missing from her apparel. Her jeans and her sweater were neatly folded on the floor next to the bed.

“You put in quite a few hours,” Therese smiled, setting the tray on the desk. “Fourteen, if I’m not mistaken.” It was two o’clock in the afternoon.

Pulling up her jeans, Carol glanced at her in surprise. “That has never happened before,” she said, looking for her bra. The T-shirt she had on wasn’t providing the support she now badly needed.

“It obviously hit the spot,” Therese stated. ““Sleep deprivation is a bitch.” She picked up the French press to pour them coffee. “Your bra and other stuff are in the bathroom.” Blushing faintly, Carol retreated to the small room she had gotten to know too well.

“Do you take milk with your coffee? You do drink coffee, don’t you?” Therese hollered behind the closed door.

“Yes,” Carol confirmed. “I mean yes, I drink coffee, and I’d like just a dash of milk, thank you.” She cringed at her clumsy reply.

“Even if it’s espresso roast?” Therese specified. “The milk’s hot, you know.”

“Oh, okay, maybe one third of milk and two thirds of coffee then,” Carol decided. She imagined Therese smiling in the other room. I look like shit, she thought, depressed by what stared back from the mirror. She searched her handbag for something to repair the damage. I really did take off without any plan. In a desperate attempt to make herself more presentable, Carol opened the mirror cabinet to look for anything to freshen up. What she found was the basic stuff – toothpicks, dental floss, hand lotion and moisturizer, a bottle of ibuprofen and some other pills she didn’t recognize, a hair brush and a couple of stray hairpins. The shelves were slightly stained with dried up specks of toothpaste and oily fingerprints. Something was stuck between the upper glass shelf and the outer wall of the cabinet, she noticed. Why she needed to see it, Carol couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because of the tweezers so readily available, that she decided to pry it out.       

It was a strip of black and white photos one used to be able to purchase from the now mostly defunct curtained booths in bus and railway stations. The strip Carol was holding had two young women in it, the other one recognizably Therese. She looked almost the same age as now, only with longer hair. The other girl in the picture had sandy-colored curls bobbed very short and intense, lively eyes. Making faces to the camera, their heads looked glued together. Seeing them made Carol swallow involuntarily, for she sensed that she was looking at something clearly not meant for her eyes. The intimacy the series of mini portraits exuded was palpable, and she regretted her nosiness. She pushed the strip back to its awkward place.

“How are you feeling?” Therese asked, when Carol returned from her detour to the bathroom. “Not sick anymore, I hope?” Carol's prolonged rendezvous with the toilet bowl hadn't gone unnoticed.

“I’m pretty good, actually,” Carol replied, realizing she hadn’t been feeling ill all morning. The rich, dark aroma of the freshly ground coffee enticed her, and she was grateful to taste her latte without any bodily reservations. The coffee was good, strong and hot, and when it trickled down her throat, it invigorated her befuddled mind like a burst of color on a blank canvas. She stretched her back and felt like a whole new person. A hungry new person.

Therese had spread a quilt on the floor for an impromptu indoor picnic. The basket filled with toast, English muffins and croissants nested on a stitched field of poppies along with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and two small bowls of yoghurt with sliced fruit on top. Carol sat next to the bread basket and started smearing butter and marmalade on a slice of toast. Tucking her legs under her, Therese made herself comfortable right beside Carol. She seemed content with her coffee mug for now.            

“Where did you get those?” Carol asked between bites, nodding at the prints on the wall. “The one on the left is my absolute favorite.”  

“I took them,” Therese said, hiding her pleasure in a sip of coffee.

“You took them?” Carol raised her eyebrows. “How? Where?”

“In the Joshua Tree National Park. I made a balanced exposure of the Milky Way, starry sky and Venus, with those awesome cliffs lit in the foreground.” Therese made it sound like it was nothing unusual. “See how the rock arches…” she continued, “Venus is right under it, and the Milky Way just above it. Cool, huh?”

Carol had to get up to look at it once more in detail. “It’s gorgeous,” she praised. “But how do you take pictures like that?” she wanted to know.     

“It’s called astrophotography,” Therese said. “You take your camera, telescope and tripod, and spend an awful lot of time outdoors, at night, in the cold,” she chuckled, “using, among other things, long exposure to record what you see in the dark sky.” She joined Carol who was scanning the picture at very close range. “Sometimes you have to combine multiple images to produce the final one, like I’ve done with the blood moon here,” Therese pointed at the smaller photo. “This composite shows the moon’s different phases starting at 4.32 AM up to totality at 6.25 AM. For this, I used a Canon 6D with an 80 mm scope. ISO settings were between 800 to 6400, and exposures ranged from 1/400 seconds to 2 seconds.”

Overwhelmed, Carol gulped. “I have no idea what you just said,” she admitted after a deliberate pause. She gazed at Therese who seemed rightfully pleased with the fruits of her labor. Carol touched her arm gently, and smiling secretively, pointed at the last photo on the wall. “But you didn’t take this one, that much I know,” she stated, winking at Therese.

“If I had, I’d be like 160 years old,” Therese laughed. “That’s Maria Mitchell on the left, the first female astronomer in America. She was also the first professor of astronomy and the director of the observatory here in Vassar.”  

“I know Maria,” Carol said with a smirk. “I’m an alumnus of Vassar.” She remembered how she and her friends had used to playfully wonder why the old lady had insisted in wearing a black lace 'doily' on her head.

“Really?” Therese looked utterly surprised. “Was the new observatory up and running when you were here?”

Carol frowned at her question. “How old do you think I am?” she asked, rolling her eyes at Therese. “I graduated six years ago.” 

Therese couldn’t help but smile at the sudden display of Carol’s temper. “Old enough.” She returned promptly to her place on the quilt.

Carol remained standing, but not because she wanted to. For some reason she thought it better to lounge around the room and check the spines on the volumes in the bookcase.

“By the way, someone’s been trying to reach you,” Therese mentioned casually. “Your phone’s on mute but I could hear it vibrating in your handbag.” She halved a croissant to fill it with jam.

Carol hadn’t thought about her cell at all, and when she picked it up, she was distressed to find twelve missed calls – all from Abby. There were four messages in her voice mail.

 Message number one: Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Call me.

Message number two: Carol, call me. It’s 11.15 and I’m worried sick.

Message number three: Okay, now you’re freaking me out! I’m at your place and you’re God-knows-where. CALL ME!

Message number four: It’s 1.55, and I will call the police if you don’t call me at once!

 

Perturbed, Carol picked up her coat. “I’m going to step outside for a moment and make a call, okay?” Therese nodded and resumed eating.

The call was picked up at once. “Finally! Where the fuck have you been?” Abby’s voice vacillated between anger and worry.

“I’m in Poughkeepsie,” Carol said. “Everything’s okay.”

“You’re in Po… cut the crap, Carol! You don’t even have your car. What on earth’s going on?” Abby’s voice had a tired, impatient edge to it.

“I got a ride here late last night, and stayed over at a friend’s place,” Carol explained. “I’m fine, I really am.”

“You went to Poughkeepsie after the funeral? Poughkeepsie – the place where we went to college?” Abby was starting to question her sanity.

“Is there another Poughkeepsie I don’t know about?” Carol asked, not sure if it was a good idea to crack a joke about it.

The line went silent for a while. “Are you there? Abby?” Carol was nervous to hear her friend so agitated.

“I was sick with worry, Carol,” Abby said seriously. “You left your door open. Do you have any idea what has run through my mind all this morning and afternoon?”

Carol had an idea, and she was sorry. “I couldn’t sleep and I wanted some fresh air. Then I found myself in Poughkeepsie.” She thought about the man and his grandma, Therese and the way she had caressed her to sleep.

“Jesus, Carol…” was all Abby managed to say. There was hardly anything that ever left her speechless, but Carol had seen it happen more often than once over the past twelve months. Abby had sat by her in the hospital, waiting for news of Harge’s operation. She had been almost too chatty up to the minute the doctor had delivered Carol the final verdict. After that Abby had shut her mouth and just tightly held her hand for hours on end. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Carol said. “I just needed to do this, even though it was rash and silly.” She drew a long breath. “Yesterday was just too much…” She could almost hear Abby thinking, those smart wheels of hers turning.

“Who did you say you stayed with?” she demanded to know.

“I didn’t,” Carol replied. “A friend… you don’t know her.” She didn’t want to talk about Therese.

“You don’t have any friends in Poughkeepsie anymore,” Abby pointed out. “Even I don’t have one left there, they’ve all moved out.” The tone of her voice told Carol that she was treading on very thin ice.

“I have life… people… you don’t know about,” Carol started, knowing very well that her defiant declaration would fall flat on its face the very next second.

“No, you don’t,” Abby interrupted, annoyed, but before she could press it any further, Carol intervened.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later.” Ignoring Abby’s objections, she shut her phone and slid it in her pocket.

Carol returned to Therese’s room. The young woman was still sitting on the floor, her head resting on the side of the bed. She looked relaxed, so at ease with herself – seemingly calm and ready for whatever life might have in store for her. Yet Carol knew she couldn’t possibly decipher anything from Therese’s outward appearance.  

Carol had liked Therese instantly. She had found her generous and tender, although the latter had been a huge surprise to her. Carol glanced at the still unmade bed, and the rippled sheets reminded her of the sandy floor of the sea. The fears of the night had engulfed her; they had sunk her deep, knowing no bottom. The kindness of strangers, Carol thought. And the gentle touch of one stranger in particular that had saved her from drowning.      

The way Therese had observed her made Carol realize she hadn’t asked a single thing about the sad fact revealed in the dead of night. She wasn’t sure if she should say something, volunteer information somehow. She wasn’t sure of anything.

“Sit.” Therese had closed her eyes from the reckless sun, but her voice was steady and alert. Carol sat down next to her. The sprightly puddles of light had craftily heated up the checkerboard floor all morning. It was exceptionally warm for this time of the year. What a difference a day makes, Carol sighed as she leaned against the bed and shut her eyes just like Therese had done.

When Therese's hand palmed hers on the floor, Carol didn’t flinch or move away.