Eclipse

And the happy mingled with the sad, weighing down what was weary. Carol was struck by a sense of terror that comes from knowing happiness after consistent grief. To experience spring like this felt suddenly like a betrayal, an abandonment; a cruel turning away from her husband, from the memory of those long, wintry months that had rimed entire years, never giving her a chance to pause and breathe. In sickness and in health , Carol had promised, yet it had been mostly sickness she had waded through.

Or maybe it wasn’t the spring after all, but the pain of letting go even if what she was leaving behind was ruinous and rotting. The spasms of guilty relief, the unclasping of the countless tiny clamps stuck in her most tender flesh, in parts she hadn’t even known had been pinched shut. The music, Therese’s music, had stirred it in Carol, releasing both the rapture and the incipient panic.

Therese had seen how moved Carol had been, and now she picked up on her anxiety. She faced her change without flinching. “Come with me,” she said, studying Carol intently. Her voice was calm but her manner determined, almost an order. She removed the fleece from Carol’s shoulders, and took her inside the house, into the living room that was yet to be transformed into the children’s night camp. The warmth indoors rushed onto Carol’s cheeks, her neck, and she stood in the middle of the room, unable to know what to do until Therese told her.

“Sit,” Therese said, settling down on the couch. When Carol attempted to sit in the middle, Therese pulled her towards her. She did it so abruptly and decisively, it shook Carol’s fragile balance making her back fall against her lap. Therese wrapped her arms around Carol as if she had done so hundreds of times before in similar fashion; as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do, to calm her down in this real and most tangible way. Her legs the bounds and her arms the bonds, Therese held Carol together as if she were afraid Carol would fall apart any second.

“It’s okay,” Therese said in a hushed tone. “You’re safe.” The tears Carol had shed in the garden were replaced by new ones, and she mistook them for more potent because of her guilt. Silently they streamed down her cheeks. She hoped she could keep them secret, but when Therese’s grip strengthened, she knew it was of no use.    

Her limbs providing shelter, Therese became Carol’s armor against the accusations that preyed on her weakness. “You can be you,” Therese whispered. “Whatever you are at any given time.” For everything that was frail, she was solid.  “I will not want anything you don’t want to give.” The firm grip was as ready to shield as it was prepared to let go. “Nor will anyone else.”     

Carol inhaled, and the air that filled her lungs was fresh and fair. Her breathing relaxed, improved, and with it her countenance.

The fickle night of early spring drove all the children, both great and small, inside. Stumbling into the living room, no one appeared to notice anything extraordinary in the cozy scene that greeted them. Carrying sleeping Etta on his shoulder, Jack sat down on the couch next to Carol. To make room, Therese swung her feet to the floor, but Carol remained right beside her anyway. Not even Lou’s climbing onto Therese’s lap interfered with their gentle ear for one another. Yawning, the little boy was quiet and docile. Exhausted by Bob’s rowdy scavenger hunt, his bright copper head flopped drowsily against Therese’s collarbone.       

Rose and Gen prepared the mattresses on the floor, ready to move the kids there when needed. Mickey clung listlessly to the side of Gen’s skirt, teetering on the brink of slumber. Dannie slouched in the easy chair, Dusty a curled-up little monkey in his arms. The hot buttered rum Bob had whipped up smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg and caramel apple. Its sweet aroma eddying around the steamy mugs, Carol blew into her hot cocoa and wished for another occasion when she could enjoy a grown-up drink herself.     

 “I think it’s my turn,” Carly said, getting up from her easy chair. She smoothed the creases on her pants she had managed to save from their red ruin.

“You have a talent, Mom?” Cass asked a bit too surprised. Used to her father’s guitar solos, she wasn’t at all prepared to see her mother perform.

“Thanks, honey,” Carly snarled. “I’m not as clueless as you seem to think.” Scoffing at her daughter’s belittling question, she went to fetch a deck of playing cards. “I’m going to do a card trick,” Carly explained. She covered a small coffee table with a green cloth and shuffled the deck. “Okay, Cass, pick a card and show it to the others but not me.” Cass did as she was told. A queen of hearts. She put it on top of one of the three piles Carly had dealt on the table.

“And now I shuffle all the piles together again,” Carly said, picking up the three separate stacks between her palms. Moving forward, Abby was paying very close attention to her sleight of hand.

“Can I see your sleeves?” Abby demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Sure,” Carly replied, setting down the deck and showing what was hiding under her cuffs. Nothing.  “Happy now?” she asked Abby cockily.

“Hmmph…” Abby acquiesced to mutter. Forever suspicious, she was certain she could pick up Carly’s eventual misdirection.

Carly cut the deck and showed the bottom card to Cass. “Was it the jack of spades?” she asked innocently. Frowning, Cass seemed disappointed. “No?” Carly inquired, feigning utter surprise. “Well, what was it then?” she wanted to know, looking at her daughter.

“What’s the point of her telling it to you?” Abby questioned with some miff.

“Shut the fff… umm, give it a rest, Gerhard,” Carly warned, “and let the girl do what her mama tells her.” Turning away from her tormentor, she smiled tenderly at Cass. “What was your card, sweetie?”

Disheartened, Cass sighed. “A queen of hearts.” She folded her arms and tilted her head slightly backwards, not unlike her mother when she was fed up with something.        

“You know what, Cassie…” Carly started slowly. “I bet your nimble-fingered mother can find it just by spelling the name of your card while dealing them on the table.” She proceeded to say the letters, completing each one with a new card. “…R, T, S!” The last one on top turned out to be the desired red queen.

“How did you do that!?” Cass exclaimed, taking turns at staring at both Carly and the card. Abby grabbed the deck and examined it carefully.

“Magic, sweetie,” Carly winked at her. “Sheer magic.” She mussed her daughter’s flaxen hair and resumed her post in the plush chair.  

“Impressive, very impressive,” Bob complimented Carly. “Who’s next?” he wondered, spinning around his axis like a cumbersome top running out of steam. His eyes fixed on Carol. “ Your turn,” he decided, grinning victoriously.

“Dad,” Therese started, her left hand touching Carol’s shoulder to put her mind at ease. “She doesn’t have to...” Her palm remained on its place.

“I want to,” Carol said, surprising first and foremost herself. “I do have a talent… of sorts,” she smiled. “I can’t play an instrument or perform any tricks, but I do know one thing and it has to do with my studies at Vassar.” It was too late to retreat now, she understood.

“I’m intrigued!” Bob rubbed her big hands excitedly together. “What did you study?” Only now it occurred to Therese that she didn’t know it either.

“Drama,” Carol said. “With a minor in English Literature.” Without realizing it, she had stood up and walked over to where Carly’s card table had been only a moment ago.

“EXCELLENT!” Bob thundered, causing Lou to stir in his sleep as he nuzzled against Therese’s chest. “How do we go about with this?” Bob asked, pulling Rose to sit on his knee.

“Well, you ask me a question – anything you want – and I give you a lucid answer within five seconds,” Carol explained.

Everyone, Therese included, looked as if they must have misunderstood something. “Umm… what does this have to do with your studies?” Phil asked, voicing the question on everybody’s lips.

“I will only answer you with a Shakespeare quote,” Carol specified. She had enough flair for dramatics to make her audience wait for the punch line. The surprise on Therese’s face turned into a wide, delighted grin, which suffused Carol’s whole being with excitement.    

Bob could hardly sit still, but he had to because Rose didn’t appreciate being bounced on his knee. “I go first!” he declared like an overeager child he so very much still was. “Hmm… what would you think if we’d wrap up this night with some gentle tunes?” Circling his arm tighter around Rose, Bob leaned forward to hear the answer. He got it immediately.   

 “If music be the food of love, play on.”

“Amazing… where’s it from?” Bob asked, tickled by the quick-fire quote.

“Twelfth Night, from the very beginning,” Carol smiled.

Sitting on the armrest of Abby’s chair, Gen caught Carol’s eye. “How would you describe this nitwit over here?” She patted Abby’s shoulder.

Beaming, Carol turned to look at Abby who couldn’t wait to hear her answer.  

"Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Abby chuckled, rolling her eyes at Carol. “Why am I not flattered by your take on my personality?” She tried to sound reproachful but her eyes had an amused glow.

“It was a compliment!” Carol defended herself. “It’s also from the Twelfth Night, and it means that you’re funny and smart and that there isn’t a pretentious bone in your body, darling.”

“Let’s hear about the baby,” Rose intervened. “How do you feel about being pregnant?” she asked curiously.

Carol exhaled, bowing her head down for a brief second. When she raised it up again, another, more pensive smile had crept upon her face. “I might be jumping into wrong conclusions with the gender here, but humor me with a bit from A Midsummer Night's Dream …”

 “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

The answer amused not only the listeners but also Carol herself.

Carly squirmed in her chair, indicating she had a question she wasn’t sure she should ask. Carol gave her an encouraging nod. “You lived a life, and you lost a life…” Carly started, hesitating. Therese shot a fierce look at her, fearing her sister had gone too far.

“Is this a question?” Carol asked, glancing at Therese to let her know she was alright.

Carly shrugged. “I’m not sure if I know how to turn it into one…”

“I’ll answer it anyway,” Carol said, looking at Therese. “It’s from the Tempest .”

“What is past is prologue.”

Carly made a speedy comeback with a follow-up question. “What happens after prologue?”

“It depends on the drama,” Carol said demurely. “Maybe a peripeteia , a profound change from one state of things to its opposite; say, a woman in mourning stumbles onto what’s fiercely living…” She caught Therese’s eyes once more. “…which ultimately leads to anagnorisis , to the sudden awareness of how things truly are – the woman is pregnant …  but I suppose you wanted the Shakespearean reply? This is from Romeo and Juliet .”

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

Carol looked at Therese, wondering what went on behind her incessant yet inscrutable gaze. The perilous Milky Way seemed suddenly like a puny brook that needed no bridges or birds of any kind.

Abby interrupted her sudden stargazing. “How do you take a hold of your destiny then?” she asked mischievously.

Carol laughed, overwhelmed by what sprang up in her mind right away. She decided to stick with it. “How did the Bard put it in Cymbeline ..?” she teased her audience.

“Boldness be my friend.”

Bob smiled, and whenever he did, which was often, it seemed to wrap everything around it in its sweet embrace. “Theodore here seems to be busting out of her seams to ask a question …”

Carol was quick to add her take on Bob’s comment.

"It is a wise father that knows his own child."

“From The Merchant of Venice ,” she elaborated, seeing the quizzical eyes around her. Carol turned to Rose and Bob. “And there’s a line from As You Like It , I feel compelled to say out loud, just looking at you two.”

“The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.”

Rose leaned her head against Bob’s shoulder, and the lovely smile she granted Carol reminded Carol of Therese.

“Did you have a question for me?” Carol asked Therese, encouraged by Bob’s earlier remark.

“Maybe.” Therese wrapped her arms tighter around sleeping Lou, her human shield.

“You can ask me anything.” Carol felt her heart pick up speed, to leap forward and expand its surprisingly spacious chambers. It ballooned out of the titillating prospect of being asked something important she couldn’t even imagine yet, and although the time and the place and all the lovely people around them didn’t make the moment most ideal, she held her breath and waited.

“Okay then,” Therese mumbled self-consciously. “This is like a job interview question…” she continued nervously. The blood-red balloon forced Carol to seek support from the back of Phil’s chair. “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”      

Carol swallowed, hoping to push the bold, brave beating back where it belonged. But her mouth kept opening, her lips forming words. Five seconds passed, and another five or fifty got caught in flight, meaning nothing. “This is from Henry VI …” she uttered, yet dared not to continue right away. The verse her religious grandmother had repeatedly cited sprung up in her memory – for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. It made perfect sense now.

Carol abandoned her cowardice and looked up. She turned to face the one who waited for her answer.  

“I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap."