Eclipse

The incessant rain pounded on the windshield, its splotchy fists exploding in contact with the glass. The angry clouds spotted earlier in Poughkeepsie were taking it out on her, Therese mused, as she steered her Jeep along the Garden City Parkway and I-78. Bring it on, she smiled silently, see if I care. She loved her car for the safety it provided, but tonight she loved it even more because Carol was with her.

Therese felt alive, miraculously so, and all the hopes she had thought too heavy buoyed up like bubbles gushing up from the bottom of a spring. Still, she kept it all inside, for it would have been impossible to start without knowing where to finish, to say a word without letting out all the words. And the words were incomplete and flawed anyway, endlessly lagging behind their true intentions.

The silence teemed with newly required memories, so fresh and original they were just glimpses of light on the dance floor. The soft lock of hair, the smooth curve of Carol’s waist, the charged proximity – all of them were present separately and at once, zigzagging in Therese’s brain like random hits in a pinball.  

Right now Therese needed nothing, for she had already had everything. It had lasted only a moment, but the quickening she had known was unrivaled by anything she had ever come across before. She might know other times and find different bliss, but never that again, Therese ruminated. But it wasn’t an unhappy or even a sad thought, for what more could anyone wish than to have her turn after having waited for it? It was no longer up to the stars to align her way – had she ever believed in such things to begin with – but for her to make the most of what lay ahead.        

Carol’s eyes swept over her from time to time, lifting her spirit, building up her confidence. Therese looked at her own hands as they wrapped around the steering wheel, astonished to see them at peace. She was inexplicably glad to have them, she realized, and the giddiness she felt over her assured palms, knuckles and thumbs was breathlessly arousing.

Driving the I-95, Therese became finally convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that what had been ignited between them was soon to catch full flame. She would see to it.

Recalling the shortest route to Carol’s home, Therese drove through the Lincoln Tunnel. She could almost hear the Jeeper hum its chummy approval, knowing the rest of the night would be entirely up to her. The epiphany it brought along made her uneasy though. Guessing she was the one with the relevant experience was enough to make her slightly nervous. Therese hadn’t thought of it at all, not taken her potential role in what was to happen into account at any point.

Squirming in her seat, Carol seemed to be having butterflies of her own. No point in fretting over it now, Therese admonished herself. It had gotten pretty hot inside the Jeep, she noticed. Or maybe it’s just me.

When they were about to take a turn to the street where Carol’s home was, Therese’s prior calm had vanished into thin air. Ten measly minutes had been too long a time for her to mull over what would take place inside Carol’s house, to worry about a kiss, a caress, a… Stop it! she ordered herself, swallowing hard. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Therese…” she heard a muffled voice call her – right before Carol went all Jackson Pollock over the dashboard, the leather interior and her. Bowled over, Therese raised her arms in the air to avoid touching the sorry remnants of her mother’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes on her lap. At least she now remembered what they had had for dinner, crossed her mind abruptly. Slowly she became aware of Carol’s teary desperation, of her complete and utter shame over what she had just done.

At first Therese didn’t see it coming, the laughter that was gurgling out of her. It made no sound at all in the beginning, but only because it needed to burst out of her with all its might. Therese found the situation comical for many reasons, any immediate romantic overture becoming an impossibility being one of them. Relieved, Therese let the joyous tears stream down her face as she did her best to console her crestfallen companion. 

After hosing down the Jeep, Therese could hardly wait for her own turn. She knocked on the bathroom door, but even though it was ajar, Carol didn’t hear her at first because of the steady flow of water. Take a cold shower, Romeo, Therese scoffed at herself once she had been told where she could freshen up.

It felt glorious to get rid of the soiled clothes, to wash away the stench that had stuck on her hair. Her underwear had survived the attack, she noticed gratefully. The soft flannel shirt next to the sink resembled the one Therese had, so she chose to wear it to add a warm layer to her otherwise scant outfit.

Drying her dark hair on the towel, Therese sat on the guest bed to figure out what to do next. The Jeep was drenched inside and she wasn’t looking forward to driving it any time soon. Carol’s nausea troubled her, the incident in the car having been already the second time it had happened during their short history. People are psychosomatic, Therese reasoned, and prone to react physically to emotional stress. The explanation did nothing to soothe Therese’s mind, for what else had there been to cause Carol stress in the car except her?

Carol was kind enough to let her stay the night, yet she was evasive when asked about her feeling sick. No, Therese didn’t want any tea; she wanted to go to bed with Carol, even if for just another night’s worth of sleep. Why am I like this? she asked herself. She’s just vomited her guts out and all I can think of is getting it on? Christ.

But it wasn’t so cut-and-dry, she realized, for her need to accelerate things between them stemmed, strangely enough, from insecurity. Therese knew what happened in bed, but most of the time she had no clue what was going on outside of it. She wasn’t known for long courtships, quite the contrary; she had always cut to the chase. The pining, bittersweet anticipation had never been her game.

But this is not a game, is it? Therese questioned when she had meekly wished Carol goodnight and returned to the guest room. Propped on her elbows on the bed, she let her eyes roam around the room she found just as impersonal as guest bedrooms tended to be. All of it was so – mauve, and she hated the word as much as she hated the color.

The tasteful yet sterile bureau in front of the bed had a bowl of potpourri on it and a collection of seashells, all of them arranged in a formation too neat to be natural. Framed botanical prints adorned the walls on each side of the bureau – wisteria, crocus, poppy, rhododendron… Therese identified as many as she could. They all looked fine but at the same time way too color-coordinated for her to find them genuinely pleasing.

Therese wished she had had the good sense of bringing the superb shot of the Helix nebula she had acquired a few weeks ago with her. She could have given it to Carol to rejuvenate this ennui. Then again a view of the dying star 650 light-years away might not have made the most suitable gift for someone in mourning. Therese loved it all the same. She adored its fierce, human eye-like beauty, the intense glow of its hot stellar core and the rebellion it exuded as it unraveled its dusty layers into space. The wonder of a star not willing to ‘go gently into that good night’ would surely enliven any drab space, she sighed.    

Turning off the lights didn’t help Therese feel any less anxious. She simply couldn’t fall asleep. The room was dark and vapid, the mirror ball of memories barely flickering in some distant galaxy of her frustrated mind. She lingered persistently on the threshold of wakefulness and slumber, only the tip of her consciousness touching the other side.

Not knowing how long she had stayed that way, Therese became aware of a faint sound emanating from another room. She didn’t recognize it at first nor did she get up to listen to it right away. When the voice, or rather the wail, grew stronger, Therese understood its source. She sneaked out of the guestroom and tiptoed behind Carol’s door, pressing her ear against it. Now she heard it distinctly – Carol was crying in her sleep, her sobs becoming louder in rising waves of slumberous despair.         

Therese didn’t hesitate to enter Carol’s room. She never questioned it, for she couldn’t stand to hear her cries, her desolate tears. “Wake up…” Therese whispered, leaning over Carol, watching her open those nebular eyes she longed to brighten. She would wake her up only to tuck her in again, to tell her that all was well in the universe they inhabited. She would stay close by, Therese promised. She would not leave Carol alone in the dark.

Therese sat down in the armchair next to Carol’s bed. She observed how sleep washed softly over Carol’s face like a gentle swell of the sea that smoothed the grainy beach. All relaxed now, Carol’s features were free from the anguish evident only a short while ago. Therese didn’t even want to fall asleep now, for she was too enchanted by what lay before her. She wished she could have cradled Carol in her arms, but just thinking of it seemed forbidden. A line from a poem Bob loved to cite sprung up, and like all lines and all poems hidden in the murky folds of the night, this one, too, spoke to her.

If ever any beauty I did see, which I desired, and got, ‘twas but a dream of thee.

This must be a dream, she thought drowsily. Her limbs nearly shivering, Therese had remained in the chair and finally drifted to sleep. She did not open her eyes or move a muscle, scared the illusion might abandon her all too soon. Therese felt the warmth of a blanket, the hands that gently arranged it over her chilled skin. The words she heard heated her more than the soft cover or the faint smile of the sun on her shoulder.

Therese wanted to open her eyes, to return the sentiment and much, much more, but the sudden terror of knowing what it would mean rendered it impossible. This was a fantasy detached from her reality, for it had not yet caught up with her conscious deeds and decisions. To act on it now would be a mistake, Therese admitted to herself. She had known it all along, even if she had tried to ignore it tonight. Until she spoke with Jane, made her peace with what had to be dealt with, this what she had with Carol would have to remain suspended in air.

A new certainty filled Therese as she sat watching Carol wake up two hours later. She would make breakfast for Carol, Therese decided, and then she would enjoy this beautiful morning with her before setting out to accomplish what she had to do.

Humming the familiar Beatles tune, Therese wanted to pamper Carol with food just like she had done once before. Filling the moka pot with water, she heard someone enter the house unexpectedly. A woman Therese had never seen in her life soon stared at her utterly surprised.

This should be interesting, Therese mused, noticing how the woman’s outlook changed from a puzzled greeting to jubilant mischief in no time. The woman, Abby, was rubbing it in, Therese noted, and Carol wasn’t taking her friend’s shameless amusement well at all. I suppose I’d be tickled to death myself in a similar situation.      

The little boy was a riot, Therese thought. Washing their compromised clothes from last night, Carol had left them on their own for a while. Lou had gotten Therese’s sexual orientation right at first sight, which had not only amused the hell out of her but also told her a lot about some feisty grown-up conversation he must have been eavesdropping to.    

“You’re not Batman”, Lou said sharply, watching Therese build a missing wall to their Lego fortress. He sounded very disappointed.

“I know…” Therese replied, glancing at him. “Sorry about that.” Lou’s remark was just as lovable as it was incomprehensible.

“Why do you have his car then?” Lou asked without missing a beat. The thought obviously troubled him.

“I do?” Therese wondered, surprised. “What makes you think that?” It must’ve been some conversation.

Lou’s freckled face remained adamant. “Mom says you drive the Batmobile.” His tone was almost accusatory.

“Are you sure?” Therese asked, quirking her eyebrow. “Hmm… maybe she mistook my Jeep for Batman’s car?” she suggested. Lou’s short attention span was, however, showing already. His interest in Therese’s car was waning fast.

“Aunt Carol is a hot blonde”, he stated unexpectedly. The way Lou said it told Therese he was quoting yet another one of her mother’s wisecracks.

“I believe she is,” she admitted, biting her lip fervently. Dyke with a batmobile and a hot blonde…

“What is a hot blonde?” Lou asked, attaching neon pink feet to an otherwise stern-looking Lego figurine.

The question threw Therese off for a second. “Umm… it’s someone who’s very beautiful and has a blonde hair.”

Lou seemed to think hard about what she had just said. “Mom thinks you want to be her friend.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Therese mumbled, playing time. “Because aunt Carol is… a hot blonde?” Lou nodded, pleased that Therese had understood him so effortlessly. “Know what, Lou”, Therese continued, “I like her very much but not because of her hair…” Her answer was lacking, but it was all she could offer for now.

“You don’t like aunt Carol’s hair?” Lou asked, astonished. The half flamboyant, half morose Lego warrior lay forgotten on the floor.

“Oh, I do like it”, Therese hastened to correct, “but you wouldn’t want anyone to like you just because of your red hair either, would you?” She congratulated herself for a nice save.

“Sarah likes my hair,” Lou mumbled, crashing a toy plane into Therese’s brick wall.

“Who’s Sarah?” Therese asked, hoping to change the subject.

“She wants to kiss me all the time,” he complained. “Girls always kiss me.” Lou looked so grieved, it melted Therese’s heart.

 “Well, that’s not so bad,” Therese attempted to console him. “It means she likes you.”

Lou was not impressed. “My mom says girls like kissing.” He found the notion utterly unbelievable. Before Lou had a chance to continue or Therese could say anything in return, Carol appeared in the doorway.

“What are you two talking about?” Carol smiled, leaning against the door frame.

Kissing, Therese wanted to blurt out just to see the look on Carol’s face when she said it.

“Batman,” Lou quipped. The new figurine he was holding had a black, pointy-eared mask and a dark cape.

“Can I be Catwoman?” Carol pleaded with Lou, winking at Therese.

Only if I can be Batman, Therese smiled inwardly, wondering what might have happened if Lou had shared his insights with Carol present.

Two hours later it was time for Therese to leave. Lou had been picked up an hour earlier. Listening to Carol, Therese beamed at Carol’s nervousness as she rambled on and on about the Vassar observatory and the weather forecast for the coming week. Therese didn’t want to wait for so long to see her again, and all of a sudden it was very easy for her to say it out loud. 

When Therese finally sat behind the steering wheel, she hardly paid attention to the Jeep’s current condition. Carol had agreed to come up with something special for the following weekend – an experience of a lifetime, no less.