Eclipse

Therese was awake, but she didn’t want to leave the bed just yet. The sun had come up hours ago, turning its light on in her quiet room. Carol was sound asleep, resting on her right side. Her fair hair feathered on the pillow, she looked serene in her remote repose.

The duvet had fallen partly on the floor, revealing Carol’s hips, buttocks, the patch of skin between the T-shirt and the dark purple briefs she was wearing. Her long legs, the left one bent softly over the other underneath, were sleek and sultry, Therese thought. She wanted to touch them, to glide her palm along the sunlit skin, but what had been possible in the dead of night could no longer happen. Therese was afraid of waking her up, of seeing Carol suddenly embarrassed by her proximity.

At one point of the night she had held Carol so tightly in her arms, Therese had been sure her wildly beating heart would inevitably awaken her. Though pressed against Carol’s skin, Therese’s hands had remained chaste. Anything else, although it had crossed her mind, would have been sheer madness. She is a straight woman who has just lost her husband, Therese reminded herself. Nevertheless, in the light of this new day, a part of her cursed it as an opportunity wasted.

Think of something else. Therese sighed long and hard. Covering her eyes with her fingertips, she inhaled sharply and turned her gaze inward. She heard it right away, the refrain, the roundabout.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations / She's giving me excitations
I'm pickin' up good vibrations / She's giving me excitations / Oom bop, bop, excitations
Good good good good vibrations / Oom bop, bop
She's giving me excitations / Oom bop, bop, excitations...

Recognizing the tune, Therese grinned. Great, an ear worm. It wasn’t a bad one, she had to admit, in fact, it was among the best. She had been thirteen and struggling with an acoustic guitar she hadn’t quite gotten a hang of. Bob had breezed in her room and dragged her down to the garage, to his ‘man cave’ as Rose still called it.

While there, Bob had given her a second-hand Ibanez electric bass and urged her to try it out. “You want me to play bass?” Therese had protested. She might not have had the knack for a classical guitar but she had sure as hell not been ready to become the butt of a tired rock 'n' roll joke.

“Will you please shut up and listen to this?” Bob had laughed at her teenage outrage. He had put on a record, and motioned for Therese to take a seat next to him on the worn-out velvet couch.

I, I love the colorful clothes she wears
And the way the sunlight plays upon her hair
I hear the sound of a gentle word
On the wind that lifts her perfume through the air

“Can you hear the bouncy bass, Teddy?” Bob had asked over the heightened volume. “That’s Carol Kaye dancing on top of the beat.” Therese had listened to the quirky backup with growing interest. The bass line had almost had a mind of its own, running off with a complexity that stuck in the listener’s brain without his even realizing it. “The bass is nothing to be frowned upon,” Bob had stated. “Brian Wilson was a genius, but so was Carol Kaye. Her hard-picking crowns the song, gives it the depth it needs.”

Having listened to Good Vibrations several times, Therese hadn’t eventually been able to hear anything except the hypnotic pattern Kaye’s bass had jumped around with. “Kaye got her first guitar when she was your age,” Bob had hinted. “Her pro career started a year later,” he had added, winking at Therese. “Give it a go.”

From one Carol to another, Therese mused, smiling at the woman lying next to her.

Close my eyes
She's somehow closer now
Softly smile, I know she must be kind
When I look in her eyes
She goes with me to a blossom world

Therese had fallen in love with her Ibanez, and it had served her well. She had performed with Bob’s band until she had moved in with Jane four years ago. Their first meeting had taken place during a break of Papa and The Boys’ concert. Drinking a beer, Therese had hung around the bar, when an attractive young woman had come over to talk to her. “So you’re one of the Boys?” she had smiled, quirking her eyebrow quizzically.

“I guess I am,” Therese had said, paying keen interest to the way the woman had weighed her words.

“Too bad,” the woman had replied, amused. “I’m not into… boys.” It was all Therese had needed to know about whom Jane Semco was really into. For the rest of the gig, Jane had stood in the front row watching only Therese. And Therese had looked back, terribly flattered by such rapt attention.

Carol stirred in her sleep, showing signs of a weakening slumber. Therese hesitated whether she should stay in bed and wait for Carol to open her eyes or not. A part of her did, but that part was still too close to desire to call the shots. Reluctantly she climbed over the foot of the bed and put on her cargo pants. She imagined what it would feel like to leave a woman she truly loved and wanted in bed instead of rushing out in shame and disgust.

Therese fetched Carol’s clothes from Sam’s room. Carol would be grateful to find them close, she mused. Noticing a brown leather handbag on the floor, she sat down on Sam’s bed and picked it up. Not caring if what she was doing was wrong, Therese eased the buckle open without a sound. The bag was mostly empty, its compartments hollow and gathering dust.

A light blue ballpoint pen with a text New Hope Natural and a New York phone number printed on it was attached to a black datebook. Therese removed the band that kept it intact, and flicked through the book’s thin pages. The beginning of the year was filled with entries. The word ‘Hospice’ appeared almost daily up till a month ago, which Therese deduced must have had something to do with Carol’s husband. Another permanent fixture was ‘New Hope’ recurring each month until it vanished altogether.

Carol’s neat and steady handwriting had started to falter in late February, Therese noted, but what was most troubling for her to see was what came after yesterday. Nothing. There were no markings whatsoever for the following weeks or months, she realized. The blindingly blank pages disturbed Therese. The last entry was the funeral, after that no sign of life.

Therese closed the book and returned it to its place, hoping Carol wouldn’t notice her having intruded upon her privacy. She was saddened by what she had seen, and it pained her to think that Carol’s ‘new hope’, whatever it was, had withered away with the impending death of her husband.

Truth be told, Therese hadn’t opened the handbag to poke her nose into Carol’s business. She had only wanted to know her whole name, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass her by. The wallet was stuffed with credit cards, bills and crumpled receipts, but she did find what she was looking for – the driver’s license belonging to one Carol Aird. For once a passport photo did justice to its mark, Therese thought, looking at the faintly smiling blonde in black and white. She memorized Carol’s date of birth, noticing that Carol was five years older than her. An obscure sound from her room interrupted her pensive stare, and she promptly put the wallet back inside the bag.

Carol was still asleep but Therese knew it was only a matter of time now. Soon her mysterious guest would become aware of where she was and whom she was there with. An ache resembling fear turned Therese’s stomach, for she was afraid of the outcome of what was surely a case of two ships passing in the night. She was ready to accept that, but she hoped she could still keep her fleeting fantasy, her solace of a beautiful night and a pleasant morning. Even if it was hers and hers alone, it was of frail making, Therese understood. She wasn’t at all certain if she could take it, were Carol to ruin it for her one way or another.

All night and all morning Therese had listened to the base line she knew still existed in her, the complex yet crystal clear motif buried under all the spiteful solos and demoralizing disharmony. She didn’t want to find Carol embarrassed or all too eager to flee. Therese wanted her to ‘get it’, to see their chance encounter for what it was – a thing of beauty. A tall order, she admitted.

The cell phone in Carol’s bag started to vibrate, prompting Therese to leave it on the floor by the wing chair. She's one hell of a sleeper, Therese grinned, gazing at Carol who remained blissfully unaware of the world calling her. When she was about to return Carol’s towel back to the bathroom, a delightfully wicked thought reared its impish head. Therese picked up Carol’s bra and paired it off with the fluffy towel. Some things shouldn’t be too easy to find.

Therese was hardly used to people gushing over her photographs. Of course there were her parents who showed interest and encouraged her in all of her endeavors, but it wasn’t the same as having someone unrelated to her talk so enthusiastically about her work like Carol had just done.

Carol had woken up just in time for breakfast and she had even seemed hungry despite her nightly nausea. Heartache can do that, Therese mused, remembering how she herself had thrown up due to the wretched state she had been in after her disillusionment with Jane.

Therese sat on the stitched poppy field, willing Carol to sit next to her by sheer force of telepathy. The blonde woman chose to linger by the bookcase instead. There was something so charmingly self-conscious about Carol’s way of not really looking at anything on the shelves, it couldn’t help but amuse Therese.

When Carol stepped outside to make a phone call, Therese thought about checking her cell as well but decided against it. She didn’t have to look at it to know who had called her and how many messages currently flooded her voice mail. She didn’t want to think about it at all, not now, not while enjoying this island in time, her Brigadoon.

Being of Scottish origin, Bob never tired of talking about the enchanted village in the Highlands. According to the legend, it became real and visible to the outer world only for one day every hundred years. As a little girl, Therese had found the myth truly beguiling. “If you love someone and happen upon Brigadoon on this special day, you may remain there, but only if you love each other enough,” he had said and kissed her goodnight. In her childlike dreams the McElroy men had danced in kilts in Brigadoon, flinging their hairy calves high in the air.

The sweet memory still flickering in her mind, Therese saw Carol return to the room. Leaning her head against the bed, Therese let her arms fall to her sides. Her eyes closed but her heart open, she hoped for just one thing. It was granted. Carol sat next to her and surrendered to the sun.

But it’s never just one thing, is it? Therese mused wistfully, placing her hand on top of Carol’s.

I don't know where but she sends me there
(Ah my, my, what a sensation)
(Ah my, my, what elations)
(Ah my, my, what)

Gotta keep those lovin' good vibrations
A happenin' with her
Gotta keep those lovin' good vibrations
A happenin' with her