Eclipse

Therese was standing by the door of her room when she saw Richard come in. She had been waiting for him, growing more restless by the minute. “Where’s your sister?” she asked him impatiently. “I’ve been trying to reach her all morning.”

Richard took off his coat, barely glancing at her. “Aren’t you an eager beaver,” he sneered. “Pun intended.” He lifted his backpack on the table and proceeded to rummage its contents. “Jane’s gone home for a couple of days. I’m sure she told you.”

Therese tried to remember if Jane had mentioned anything about it, and a distant recollection proved that she had. Therese had been too wrapped up in herself to pay any real attention to it.  “When is she coming back?” she interrogated Richard nevertheless.

“Late Friday evening, I think,” Richard mumbled before gazing at Therese with a devilish grin. “But I’m sure you can make her an offer she can’t refuse.” His innuendo was all too obvious.

Therese knew she could get Jane to come back on a moment’s notice, but would it be fair to summon her here for a break up? It would take Jane at least five hours to drive from Concord, New Hampshire, to Poughkeepsie. She could very well wait till Friday evening, Therese assured herself. They would talk and have it all out that night – the night before she was supposed to see Carol.

Therese felt good about the decision she had made. She would wipe the slate clean and start all over, she mused, confident in her ability to make it happen. Yet the confidence seemed curiously fragile to be examined in any detail as if its pretty shell would break with the slightest contact with reality. In order not to dwell more on it, Therese focused on the positive, on their visit to Scotch Plains and the dance, on Carol’s quiet confession in the dark and Lou’s innocent revelations. So she has thought of me that way, Therese mused. She imagined Carol getting a hilarious and surprisingly accurate reading of their current situation from Abby.

Carol’s told me and my wife so much about you. Abby’s words echoed in Therese’s mind signaling one thing only. Friends never let a stranger on about something like that if it didn’t serve a specific purpose. In other words, Carol’s interest in her went beyond the usual. Therese knew how these things worked; she had been around the block enough times to figure it out.      

It was easy to push all trepidation aside with the uplifting evidence she had been handed. To build upon that, Therese looked up the number of a friend of hers, a silversmith she had gone to school with. Laurie shared Therese’s interest in celestial objects and she had incorporated them in her work. One of Laurie’s jewelry lines was called Carpe Noctem, which was the reason Therese called her. She wanted to give Carol something but not just anything. She wanted to mark the occasion with a gift that would hold a special meaning for them both, since she was certain the coming Saturday would be no less than a red letter day.      

Later that same day, as she was just about to fix herself an early supper, the doorbell rang. “Dad…” Therese said, taken aback by Bob who was suddenly standing behind the door. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t expected to see him show up without prior notice.

“Can’t I come and see how my beautiful boy is doing?” Bob grinned at her surprise.

“We just met… the other day,” Therese mumbled, knotting her brow. “Is everything alright at home? Is mom alright?” she fretted.

“Everything’s great,” Bob said, dismissing Therese’s needless worry with a wave of his hand. “I had some business in a lumberyard in Newburgh, so I decided to make a detour to see if you’re home.” He took off his baseball cap and made a failed attempt to part his limp hair. “Wanna grab something to eat?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Therese welcomed. She was only too happy to give up cooking for a juicy burger.

“So… how’ve you been?” Bob asked when they were sitting in a booth at the local diner.

Therese’s smile was wry. “Gee, Dad… you’re so subtle,” she chuckled. “I had a very nice evening, thank you for asking.” Shaking her head, Therese grinned at Bob.

“What? What?” Bob laughed. “Can you blame me for being curious? We had a long talk about you yesterday.” He stopped, glancing apprehensively at Therese.

“You and Mom?” Therese asked sharply. Bob acquiesced to nod. “I see.” She didn’t know what to make of Bob’s heart-to-heart with her mother. The fact that he and Rose had discussed her wasn’t surprise in itself, but his willing admission of it having taken place disturbed Therese.

“Look... I didn’t come here to give you a hard time,” Bob said, looking at her intently. “I came to check on you. I won’t deny that – but only because your mother is worried about you.” A huge, halved sesame seed bun with a chunk of meat stuck inside had landed on a plate in front of him. He took a hungry bite of the burger, its condiments oozing on his patchy beard.

“Are you worried?” Therese asked right away. Bob kept chewing his mouthful, buying time for the needed answer.

“A year ago when you came home,” Bob started pensively, “you didn’t eat and you hardly said a word. We knew what had happened even though you didn’t tell us about it then. We let you be.”

Therese didn’t want to remember the sharp, relentless pain she had endured that spring. “Do we have to talk about it?” she asked impatiently. “It doesn’t have anything to do with my life anymore.” An uncomfortable twinge in her gut mocked her pitiful lie.

Sighing, Bob put the burger down. “Yes, we do, and yes, it does.” He wiped his fingers with his napkin. “Before you go all ballistic on your sister, let me assure you that it was an honest mistake…” Therese stared at Bob, disbelief and anger flickering in her eyes.

“Calm down, Carly didn’t mean to say anything and she didn’t, not per se,” he explained. “Rose asked if she knew where you were, and she accidentally slipped out New Hampshire.” He took Therese’s hands between his palms. “We knew right away, though she did try to lie for you,” he continued. “And it wasn’t a huge surprise. You hadn't been around, and we guessed you’d been keeping away for a reason.” Embarrassed, Therese withdrew her hands.

“You can always come home, no matter what,” Bob spoke. “Nothing changes that.” Stubbornly, he captured his daughter’s hands again. “You know I don’t like to meddle,” he said apologetically, “but I’d hate to see you break yourself again.” He looked at his burger longingly, but abandoned it for one more minute. “I don’t buy that ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ bullshit,” Bob went on. “I think the pain we feel is a trace of something we know we have lost,” he elaborated. “And we can’t have it back.”  

Therese was sullen. The salmon burger she had looked forward to appeared uninviting. “I’m ending it now. It’s over.”

Bob’s whole upper body seemed to swing back and forth in one continuous, gentle nod. “Your new friend…” he started, knowing fully well he was treading on very thin ice. “She’s fighting her own demons, “ he said cautiously. 

“What are you saying, Dad?” Therese asked a bit too forcefully. She resented her mother having told Bob anything at all about their talk.

Furrowing his brow, Bob was quick to notice it. “Just that she may not know what she’s doing because she wants a moment’s peace from them.” Bob’s comment hit Therese unexpectedly hard, and she tried to struggle to keep her voice steady.

“So am I supposed to sit on my hands and do nothing? I’m a grown-up and so is she – I think we know what we want if and when we want it…” Her angry outburst was interrupted by what sounded like an involuntary snort. Just as Therese was about to point out its distastefulness, Bob became exceedingly serious.

“’So should I lie down next to my dead husband and wither away?’” he stated abruptly.

Therese couldn’t get a word out of her mouth, but the look on her face told Bob she thought he had gone totally off his rocker.

“That’s what your mother said to me when we had just met.” Bob explained quietly. “It took me every shred of my will power not to go to bed with her.” He closed his eyes momentarily as if attempting to remember it even better for his daughter’s sake. “The next day she called me and cried over the phone. She was appalled by her own behavior.”

Therese had never heard either him or her mother talk about it before. Nor did she want to hear about it now. “Death is a mighty aphrodisiac,” Bob said wistfully. “A person grieving wants something that’s life-affirming, contrary to what he or she has just gone through. It’s only natural.” He cast a scrutinizing eye on Therese. “And maybe you are looking for an escape as well. Or a mere band-aid.” Knowing he had crossed at least one border too many, Bob paused for a moment before continuing in his unembellished manner. “If that’s all you want, fine, but at least be aware of it.” He resumed eating, having finally said his piece.

Therese lost her appetite entirely. The good mood she had been in was fading fast, gloom and doom hanging over her head like two nasty gargoyles mocking her earlier optimism. Why do you do this? she wanted to shout at Bob. Why do you have to ruin it? she almost shrieked at him. But she kept her mouth shut and swallowed her venom, aware of the utter uselessness of lashing out on him. She didn’t want to let the moment pass, she wasn’t going to let it pass, because this, Therese convinced herself, this might just be her lucky break, her one chance of happiness.  

Bob was sad to see the anger and disappointment on his daughter’s face. “A wise man once said, ‘Do not seek for things to happen the way you want them to; rather, wish that what happens happen the way it happens – then you will be happy’.” He looked at Therese who refused to understand. 

They ended their dinner on a bad note, which went against everything the McElroy family stood for. Therese shut herself off, becoming outright rigid with defensiveness. Despite brave attempts, Bob couldn’t get through to her. He was reluctant to leave but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He knew how stubborn his daughter could be.

Back at home, Therese dialed Jane’s number again and this time the call was picked up. “What the hell are you doing in Concord in the middle of the week?” she snapped at Jane when she heard her voice.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Jane said, stunned by Therese’s fierce opening. “If that’s your way of telling me you miss me, you have to work on your sweet talk.” She waited for Therese to calm down.

Therese let the air out of her lungs in one feisty puff. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I need to talk to you. Soon.” She hated venting her frustration on Jane but she couldn’t help it. The damage was already done.

“I know,” Jane said, “and I’ll be back on Saturday. Why don’t you come over in the evening and we’ll get into it then?” She sounded hopeful.

“Saturday?” Therese questioned anxiously. “Richard said you’d be back on Friday.” Panicking, her heart was beating furiously in her chest.

“I can’t make it,” Jane said apologetically. “I promised Mom I’d help her with her brunch catering, and it won’t be over for me till 11 on Saturday morning. I’ll be able to leave around noon, so I should be there at six or so.”

Remembering the time of her date with Carol, Therese was reeling with desperation. “I need to see you before that,” she insisted stubbornly. “I’m not in Poughkeepsie on Saturday.” The line went silent for a while.

“What’s going on, Therese?” Jane asked gravely. “What is so damn important you want me to stand my mother up?” Therese could hear the irritation in her voice. “That it can’t wait one extra day?”

Therese tried to level her breathing. She was losing this battle fast, and as far as she could tell by her meeting with Bob, she was losing every single battle in the horizon. “Nothing,” Therese mumbled. “Forget it.” She withdrew to her shell and remained there, no matter what Jane attempted to suggest after that.     

On Saturday morning, Therese wasn’t quite herself. She had been quarrelsome and uncooperative with everyone she had come across with ever since she had parted with Bob. When Rose had phoned her, she had remained tight-lipped and evasive. She had ignored Carly’s calls altogether, even though she knew her anger at her was misdirected.

Mostly Therese was angry with herself, furious at her inability to change the circumstances that threatened to overpower her. The worst of all was the nagging feeling that everyone else was right and she herself was Don Quixote fighting the windmills of an unforgiving, unsurmountable reality. She had indeed had her head stuck up in her own ass for a long time now, she mused begrudgingly. Not because of Jane, but because of her own pitiful sense of self-importance and pride, neither of which seemed to know any moderation.  

She had briefly thought about suggesting that they postpone the date Carol had come up with. Such a sensible musing had, however, had an unfortunately short lifespan. Therese had lost all control of what made sense and what didn’t as if she had been sucked into some strange orbit against her will, a stupefying foreign gravity forcing her to spiral towards the inevitable.  

Maybe it’ll be alright and I can stall one more night, Therese hoped. I cannot not see her. She remembered the pendant she had promised to pick up from Laurie, and suddenly it felt like the worst idea she had ever had. To give something so intimate as a piece of jewelry was a straightforward gesture, she fretted. Fuck.

It was an oddly appropriate gift though, she realized, handing Carol the gift box several hours later. The myth of Orpheus the Vega pendant referenced held all the allure of the dead in it, she mused uneasily as she recounted the legend to Carol.

Carol was pleased to have it, she noted. When Carol asked Therese to help her put it on, Therese was once again gripped by conflicting emotions. Seeing Carol in the mirror, she was overcome by the need to confess what was throwing her off balance but what she considered only a temporary hurdle in her way. She would get rid of it as soon as she possibly could, Therese wanted to say. She would make sure nothing and no one would prevent her from being whatever Carol wanted her to be. But the words never left her mouth, because she wanted to have this moment as much as she wanted all the moments after it.  

Therese pulled herself together. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she told Carol and the words rang true. She had turned her back on herown world that had gone out of its way to warn her against any hasty moves. The memory of Bob’s kind, worried eyes followed her as they left for West Village.

Therese was genuinely surprised by what looked like an ordinary dinner at a restaurant. When they were escorted inside, she soon realized what a sensory treat it promised to be. Having put her blindfold on, Therese couldn’t keep the obvious connotations their helplessness entailed from flooding her brain. She wondered if Carol was as nervous as she was about dining together in the dark, if she realized what it meant to not to be able to see each other for the next few hours.

So far they had relied on looks and gestures, fleeting impressions that had left plenty of room for interpretation. Now they would have to avail themselves of words, to make them work, and that was what scared Therese formidably. What she had to say for herself needed an eye contact, a channel so open it would help her to transcend the perils of misinterpretation. This was her Milky Way, her challenge to cross it in order to convey what threatened to sink in the haze of their private galaxy.

Therese did as she was told and placed her palms on Carol’s shoulder to follow her and Bill to the dining room. To touch her blindly was startling, and Therese longed to leave her hands there. She didn’t let go until Bill came and practically made her break contact. What the waiter said next seemed unimportant to Therese whose interest lay close but unattainable across the table from her. She faced front, catching Carol’s fragrance – the same she had enjoyed in her bed in Poughkeepsie and on the dance floor. She couldn’t find her champagne glass but it was just as well. She needed to keep her head clear or at least as lucid as it could remain under the circumstances.

It was a sheer coincidence that Therese found the breadbasket and Carol’s hand as it happened to land on hers. It stayed there only for a blink of an eye, but it was plenty for Therese. She picked up the embarrassment in Carol’s voice, but as far as she could tell, it wasn’t the wrong kind of confusion.

The dinner was a bewildering experience for Therese. The food tasted heavenly although she was never sure what she had just put in her mouth. She lost her spoon and shoved her thumb into her crème brûlèe by mistake, but nothing came as close in wreaking havoc in her turbulent mind as the moment she offered Carol her napkin. Afterwards she thought she must have gone a bit crazy, boldly caressing Carol’s cheek. But she had been provoked to keep it up, Therese thought. Carol had caught her hand and pressed it against her cheek. The sensation it had created had spread through Therese like wildfire, weakening her better judgment with its current of full-bodied pleasure.

When the moment was gone, Therese shut her eyes behind her blindfold. She needed to calm down, to pretend that she was still the master of her fate; that the hand she had been dealt wasn’t all that bad if only she would have the acumen to play it right.

And now the purple dusk of twilight timesteals across the meadows of my heart…

Therese recognized the song immediately, and listening to it allowed her to breathe more easily for a while. She had learned to love it as a child when she had sneaked downstairs after the house had quieted down and Bob and Rose had thought she had fallen asleep. She couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time, Dannie and Phil being just toddlers. Therese had spied her parents sitting in the kitchen, sharing a piece of a cherry pound cake her mother had especially made for Bob. The radio had been on, the soft voice of Nat King Cole scenting their gentle connection.

To suddenly see them as something else than just her parents, as two separate adults Therese as their daughter couldn’t by definition ever witness, had been a startling sight for her as if she had been given a gift of looking ahead, through the years of seeking and finding and being disappointed until she might be given something similarly beautiful. Bob and Rose had sat in the dim-lit room, not speaking, just savoring the night that moved around them in tenderness. Mesmerized, Therese had watched them, conscious only of their perfect harmony.

The memory of love’s refrain.

The soulful rendition, the wistful melody of love lingering in stardust, had seemed to encompass the mood of the shared solitude, and it had never left her. Maybe it had sown a seed in her mind that had later led her to wonder if love was indeed rooted in melancholy, if its full bloom always depended on understanding what was the most fragile in other person. The struggles of love, the constant wakefulness it demanded was overwhelming to Therese whenever she chose to think it through, for to be a success in love seemed to need not only two open hearts and minds but also impeccable timing and luck. She could only deliver her share and hope for the best.

The pressing need to tell Carol the truth about her life consumed Therese again when the last notes drifted out her reach. When Carol said she had something to tell her as well, Therese became worried Carol would say too much before she had had the opportunity to come clean about everything.

Therese spoke determinedly, referring to Carol’s confession as something having to do with her grief. Everything Bob and Rose had said to her imbued her solicitous take on Carol’s willingness to speak out and explain.

But Carol didn’t want to hear her. She sounded almost hurt, denying Therese’s conclusions. If she wasn’t a strange thing for Carol, what was she then? And the words Carol had whispered in the night came back forcefully; they overthrew Therese’s resistance, and she couldn’t help but change her course once more. She had wanted to open her eyes, to repeat the same feeling as her own, Therese confided in Carol. And as soon as she had admitted it, the inability to see Carol became unbearable. She could hear Carol draw a quick breath and then hold it. Had she been able to look at Carol, to really look at her, she was sure she would have known what ran through her mind that very moment.  

On their way back, in the cab, Therese was on pins and needles waiting for her chance to get to the point she was dying to make. Maybe after that she could reach for the hand that rested next to her thigh on the backseat. She longed to touch it and grab it, to hold it for way too long for it to be innocent at all. The hand that had touched her cheek bothered her now. It became her only focus, annihilating all coherent thought. To have it so near ruined her concentration completely.

Therese interrupted Carol before she could start anything. She needed to go first, for both Carol’s sake and her own. But what came out of her mouth wasn’t graceful at all; it was blunt and oddly deformed in its meaning.

“I’m involved with someone.” It sounded wrong, Therese thought immediately. The look on Carol’s face was blank at first, as if she had trouble understanding it. The words gradually sinking in, Carol remained strangely quiet. “I mean I have some unfinished business with someone,” Therese hastened to add to wipe away the indefinable emotion casting its shadow over Carol. “I mean I’m not involved with her anymore,” Therese stammered, “I don’t want to be involved with her anymore…”

The awkwardness her clumsy sentences brought about was deafening. Carol had still not said a word, but she was squirming in her chair as if afraid her body would go numb without any movement at all. “I didn’t want to…” Therese started. “I wouldn’t want you to think…” She attempted again. “I needed you to know this before –“ The look that Carol gave her stopped her in her tracks.

Slowly, Carol got up and straightened her skirt. Another kind of silence enveloped her now, the kind that denied access and barred all entry. “That is your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t need to hear about it.” Therese wasn’t sure which frightened her more, Carol’s cool demeanor or the curt indifference of her statement. She could feel Carol slipping away and retreating behind the walls of some remote fortress Therese had no chance of finding in the black night.

“Carol,” Therese pleaded with her, “there’s so much I have to say to you yet I’m saying it all wrong…” She drew an intermittent breath, gripped with fear that was already turning into palpable pain.

“Don’t.” Carol’s voice was laced with emotion Therese prayed would grant her one more chance, let down a drawbridge to make the desired connection. But she was hoping against hope, she soon realized. “I think we should call it a night,” Carol spoke after another pained silence. “I’m very tired.”

Still sitting on the couch, Therese buried her head in her hands. She didn’t want to surrender to her tears, for she knew that if she would, she couldn’t possibly stop. Swallowing, Therese raised her head to look at Carol once more. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” Her voice wavering, she held on to her question as if it were her last hope.

“It was nothing,” Carol whispered. She didn’t look at Therese when she excused herself to the bathroom.

Numb, Therese sat in her Jeep on Carol’s driveway for a long time. A small part of her still wished Carol would change her mind and ask her back in again. The rest of her knew it would never happen, no matter how long she stayed parked in front of her house. It was late, but not as late as she would have guessed. The last agonizing minutes with Carol had only been made of lead. Now everything seemed dead, unmoving, first and foremost herself.

The cell phone beeped in her pocket, and her wretched heart leapt as she reached in to grab it.

If you’re done with whatever you had to do tonight, I’m here and waiting. I will always wait for you. I love you. – Jane

Therese stared at the message, trying to understand what it meant for her. The tears she had fought back welled in her eyes as she pulled out from the driveway and entered the desolate street. She wondered if it was opportunistic to seek the company of someone who loved her in her moment of utter devastation. The loneliness crushed her, and she needed to be taken care of, to be welcomed after what she had just been through. The conviction only strengthened the further away from Carol’s house she got.

Finally in her destination, after what had seemed like an endless drive, Therese got out of the car. A light was still on, she could see it through the window glass. Inhaling, she walked over to the door. It was opened before she had time to signal her arrival in any way.

Sobbing, Therese stood in the doorway for only a flash of a second before her mother took her in her arms.