Smaragdus

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Genevieve hissed at Abby, when she appeared at her door uninvited. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the cripple?” Tightening the belt around her thin silk robe, she stepped out in the corridor, closing the door promptly behind her. She wasn’t going to have this conversation in her quarters.

“Jimmy’s babysitting him for the time being,” Abby explained. “But what are you doing dressed like that in the middle of the afternoon?” It was a futile question, and she knew it before asking it. To describe Genevieve’s sexual interests as prolific was an understatement she was well aware of.

“Never mind my garb,” Genevieve said brusquely, “it’s none of your business. You being here, when you should be attending to your responsibilities is, however, my business.” She was irritated, but Abby couldn’t tell if it had more to do with her taking liberties or interrupting what must have been a pleasurable pastime so far.

“I bumped into Therese this morning,” Abby said matter-of-factly. “She wasn’t happy to see me, to put it mildly.” She kept a keen eye for Genevieve’s first reaction.

“Where did this unfortunate rendezvous take place?” Genevieve interrogated. There were no cracks on her façade yet.

“At Carol’s office,” Abby replied as bluntly as she could.

“What the fuck, Abigail?” Genevieve’s raised voice matched the apparent discontentment her whole body now exuded. “Did I give you a permission to show your face in that place? Did I?” she questioned angrily.

“It’s not like I had any choice – I work for Carol, remember? Meeting Therese there was just a weird coincidence,” Abby said calmly. She wasn’t going to lose her nerve now.

“What happened?” Genevieve demanded to know.

“She saw right through me, through us,” Abby said. “And she wasn’t particularly thrilled to learn we’d been keeping her in the dark.”           

Genevieve paced the little foyer they had stepped into. She reminded Abby of the caged animals she had seen in the Bronx Zoo a couple of years ago. “What did you say to her?” she asked after a while.

“I told her what the deal is,” Abby replied. She wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “She’s bright enough to find it out on her own, so I saw no point in embellishing the truth any further.”

Such candor didn’t exactly please Genevieve, Abby noticed. She was agitated and perturbed by her decision to level with Therese, even if Abby had had no choice but to do just that. “How is she? Now, I mean,” she finally asked Abby.

“Therese? Peeved,” Abby said. “And I’m fine, by the way!” Genevieve’s attitude pissed her off big time. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she had been interested in her feelings.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Genevieve asked, taken aback by Abby’s edginess.

“You never ask how I feel,” Abby blurted out. “You’re not a least bit interested if I’m doing okay.” She hadn’t intended to air any dirty laundry but this was as good a time as any. “I love you, Gen, I always have, and I’ve believed it when you’ve told me that our time will come.” She hesitated, but she also knew she had already said too much to back away.

“It’s never going to happen, and I know exactly why. You can’t love anyone who really cares for you and your wellbeing. No, you have to be either the abuser or the abused one.” Abby knew she was way out of line, and a part of her dreaded the outcome of her abrupt honesty. “I’ve become the useful idiot in your never-ending game of cat and mouse, the one not even fit for the latter role anymore.” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she chose to ignore them. “But the sad thing is that I’m not even going to do anything about it, I’m going to be at your beck and call just like I always have, because I have nothing and no one else except you.” Defeated, she bowed her head.

“Abby…” Genevieve started, not knowing how to respond to her sudden outburst. “Abby, Abby, Abby…” She touched her arm, hoping to bring her out from her desolation.

“Don’t.” Abby whispered painstakingly. “Spare me your damage control, it’s humiliating.” At the same time she wished for it more than ever before.

“I’ve asked you to wait, and as far as our plan is concerned, nothing has changed,” Genevieve spoke after a short yet weighty silence. “Don’t you go and lose your nerve now, darling, since we’re nearly there.” She meant to sound optimistic, and in any other situation she might have succeeded in it.

“There? What is there?” Abby questioned. “You’ve said it so many times, I’m sick and tired of hearing about it. You are never there. You have never enough.” She was disillusioned and disappointed, even if the disappointment had more to do with herself than with Genevieve. She is what she is, and I have never been able to change a damn thing about her. Yet she couldn’t deny the fact that she had been attracted to Genevieve for the same reasons she now tried to despise her for.

Whatever she lacked, Genevieve always seemed to have plenty of – confidence, attitude, and taste. When life had been good, Genevieve had had the means of making it even better for the both of them. She had made her look better, too, by association. Hers had been a quiet, repressed life turned upside down with all the bells and whistles that forever spelled Genevieve Cantrell to her. How could anyone have passed such an opportunity to live? she had questioned all too often. Even now, spewing angry words, Abby felt it, the tingle of excitement she always experienced when in the same room with her.  

“We could have lived comfortably and never looked back from day one,” she continued. “But you were never content, you always wanted more – more money, more women, and the power to wield over them.” Abby wasn’t finished yet. “Then she comes along, and all of a sudden you find you can’t bend her to your will, not in the way you wanted. Not like you’ve done with all the others before her – like you’ve done with me.” The realization wasn’t a new one for Abby, but it was a whole different thing to say it out loud.

“That’s ridiculous,” Genevieve objected. “If you’re talking about Therese, you’re out of your mind.” The best defense was a good offense, after all. “This is her last job, for God’s sake – haven’t I told you that?” Genevieve stared at Abby expectantly. “She knows it. Go ask her if you don’t take my word for it.”

Abby was confused. She didn’t know what to believe, although she knew what she wanted the truth to be. For quite some time she had suspected Genevieve to have fallen in love with Therese, or at least formed a potent attachment to her she hadn’t seen happen with anyone else. It had bordered obsession, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Abby. But she wanted to think that what Gen was saying now was in fact so. She could very well ask Therese. She could call Genevieve’s bluff so easily it wouldn’t make any sense for her to utter such a blatant lie about it.

“Abby,” Genevieve said, noticing the effect her revelation had had on her. “You need to trust me on this, and keep your cool.” She sensed how pliable Abby had suddenly become. “We obviously need to spend more time together, darling,” she smiled. “You’re being paranoid, and I get it. It’s not exactly glamorous what you’re doing right now. I promise you won’t have to look at another adult diaper for as long as you live after we’re done with this.” She closed the gap between them and kissed Abby long and hard. “You need to have your faith renewed,” Genevieve murmured, leaning against the wall and opening her robe. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “How about you start by kneeling before me, lover…” she suggested, winking at Abby who chose only to see what was soon right in front of her face.

Therese spent the rest of the day with Carol going over the other items on exhibition, most of them on loan from the Smithsonian in Washington, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, and the Imperial Treasury in Vienna. Though rattled by her encounter with Abby, she felt surprisingly at ease now, enjoying the relaxed privacy of working side by side with Carol.

Carol was still wearing the ring, Therese noticed, and despite the negative feelings the conversation with Carol had initially stirred in her, she was surprised to find them all having vanished from her mind. Every once in a while the gorgeous ring caught her attention, when her boss’ hands either made a point of showing something on paper or waved animatedly in the air. Never before had the ring brought Therese any happiness, but now, seeing it on Carol’s finger, it did. A smile was creeping across her face, although she tried her damnedest to suppress it. Therese knew she would look forward to seeing it every day from now on, and secretly she was overjoyed, that it had been her who had given it to Carol.

Carol had not asked anything about her earlier behavior, as off-kilter as it had been. She had only glanced at her quizzically, giving Therese the opportunity to talk about it, had she so wished. When Therese hadn’t, she had focused on the work at hand.

“It’s been such a beautiful day, I feel positively guilty having kept you indoors all this time,” Carol admitted when they were finishing up.

“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a sunny day,” Therese said, taking a long look outside. “I’ve never been much of an outdoors person, spending most of my time wrapped up in books or in a gym.”

Carol looked at her curiously. “In a gym?” she asked. “Spinning or free weights?” Therese’s body was tight but bulky muscles it had not.

Therese laughed at Carol’s apparent amusement. “Neither. My mother was an aerial contortionist, and I used to accompany her to the gym as a child. I loved watching her practice, and eventually wanted to try it as well. Then it sort of stuck with me.”

She could have knocked Carol down with a feather. “Aerial contortionist? What on earth is that?”

The look on Carol’s face delighted Therese. “It means hanging from a suspended fabric high in the air, and doing climbs, wraps and drops while there,” she explained. “Performance art, you know.” She wanted to impress Carol.

“Sounds daring – and dangerous,” Carol commented. She tried to picture what an act like that would look like but couldn’t. She must be very strong and flexible. The thought alone was enough to make her blush.

“It requires a lot of stamina,” Therese noted modestly. “It is a demanding art and very risky. There are no safety lines, you know.” Now she was downright bragging.

“Did your mother have a successful career?” Carol asked, inexplicably flustered.

“She did,” Therese said, “but a very short one. Fell off her silks during a performance, a 50-feet plunge down to her death. Broke her neck.” She seemed strangely unaffected by the facts she had just disclosed.

Carol stared at her horrified. “That is… awful!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Therese preferred looking out of the window. She wasn’t sure what Carol expected her to say. “Yeah. It was unfortunate.”

Unfortunate? Carol felt bad she had asked about Therese’s mother at all. Then again it had been she who had brought her up in the first place. Maybe she has never gotten over it, Carol mused. Maybe that’s why she acts so cool about it.

“It’s great fun, though,” Therese said, as if lightening up was all their awkward conversation needed. “Once you master it, you can do pretty much whatever you like up there.” Sensing Carol’s discomfort, Therese grew worried. “I don’t like to talk about her, that’s all.” She had been alone for years before becoming officially an orphan.

People grieve differently. Who am I to judge? Carol thought. And why should she assume that Therese had abandoned her art, even if it had claimed her mother’s life? “Have you ever performed yourself?” Carol dared to ask after a while.

“As a matter of fact I have,” Therese revealed proudly. “I was a rising star at 16, doing occasional shows here and there.” She fell silent, remembering why and how everything had come to an abrupt end.    

“Why did you stop? I presume you did since you’re here now,” Carol asked. To replace an adrenaline rush with gemology seemed like a stretch, though.

“I wanted to get a real profession, if you know what I mean,” Therese stammered. “Aerialists retire early anyway, so I figured a down-to-earth job would prove more practical in the long run.” She was starting to regret having referred to her exceptional skills at all.  

“Minerals are pretty much the most down-to-earth you can get,” Carol chuckled. “But didn’t you say you graduated from Carlsbad much later? What did you do before your studies?” Something didn’t quite add up.

Panic-stricken, Therese tried to come up with a possible explanation but to no avail. Her mind was blank, but her heart pounded heavily on her chest. I broke into a man’s home and almost ended up in juvie, she wanted to shout out. Never in her life had Therese wanted so badly to confess and to ask for forgiveness for her sins, but even as the impulse kept throbbing in her brain, she knew she couldn’t possibly come clean about anything.

She had told Genevieve every last detail about her miserable life and her estranged mother after they had become lovers. Therese had confessed everything to her, but she had never asked her to forgive her. Somehow she had sensed that it wouldn’t be Genevieve who could offer her absolution, but Abby, her very own Martha, could. So many evenings and nights, shivering out of remorse and constant nightmares, Therese had stayed at Abby’s room. She had cried her eyes out, and Abby had listened, comforted and understood.

She had relied on Martha, put all her faith in her, but when the scales had fallen from her eyes, she had lost all faith in friendship. As much as she abhorred Genevieve’s deeds, her calculated indifference, there was one thing she hated even more. Is there anything worse than to be betrayed by a friend? To find out she is not what she has claimed to be? To learn that your confidante had been playing the same game as your cruel mistress? We may hand our hearts to our lovers, but our souls we trust to our true friends.  

Seven years ago

“What are these?” Therese asked Martha, browsing a pile of letters on Martha’s table. The envelopes were addressed to people she didn’t recognize: Lena Weber, Ellen March, Eve Stephens, Vivian Bell… There appeared to be none for either Karen or Martha.

“Oh, nothing,” Martha hastened to say and picked them up quickly. “Just letters for some of the girls who have lived here before. Karen has the forwarding addresses, I’d better get these over to her.” She looked nervous and unwilling to talk more about them, which Therese found curious.

“How many have stayed here over the years?” Therese wanted to know. “Do you guys keep in touch with them?”

Martha knotted her brow. “Karen does, I think,” she said without elaborating it further.

“What were they like?” Therese never wanted to drop a subject she was interested in.

“Well, I don’t know…” Martha mumbled. She got up to make some tea.

“You don’t know?” Therese laughed. “What kind of an answer is that? You must’ve known them just like you know me.” Martha’s reluctance to discuss the other young women Karen’s program had helped stunned her.

“I didn’t. Not really.” Martha leaned against the sink, her back turned on Therese. “I think you should go now. I have a lot to do.”

Did I say something wrong? Therese wondered, leaving Martha’s room. Her evasiveness puzzled Therese but not as much as her gruff behavior. Martha had never hurt her feelings before.

Later that same day Dannie came by. “Wanna watch a movie together? I made popcorn.” The heaping bowl looked like just the thing Therese needed.

“Sure. What do you want to watch?” she asked with an approving smile.

“There’s an old flick on TCM I’ve wanted to see for a long time now,” Dannie said, switching the TV on. “I think you’ll get a kick out of it – it’s a dyke film,” he elaborated, making himself comfortable on the floor. Therese sat next to him. 

 THE CHILDREN’S HOUR… FROM THE PLAY BY LILLIAN HELLMAN…

“We’re watching a dyke film starring Audrey Hepburn?” Therese sniggered.

“Shhh,” Dannie hushed her. “I hear it’s interesting. Depressing as fuck but in a kinky way.” Therese rolled her eyes at him.

When the movie began properly, she really started paying attention to it. “Hey, Audrey’s got the same name as our fairy godmother!” Dannie giggled excitedly. “What are the chances of that?”

A coincidence? Therese tried to get rid of her bad feeling, but when Shirley MacLaine’s character turned out to be Martha, her whole body started to shake. Something about those letters was bothering her now. Something she had almost recognized when she had seen them, read the names written on them.

“Did you say they left together?” Therese asked Dannie, her face all white.

“Yeah, they were dressing up for some shindig an hour ago,” Dannie confirmed. “What’s wrong, Therese? You don’t look too good.” He sounded alarmed.

“Wait here…” Therese exhaled. “There’s something I need to do.” Despite Dannie’s objections, she ran out of her room and didn’t stop until she got to Martha’s door. It was locked, but she knew how to pick it with a hairpin. Dannie had taught her.

Not caring if anyone saw her or not, she turned on the lights in Martha’s room and started opening the drawers. Letters, letters, I need to find the letters, kept hammering in her head. It wasn’t all that difficult – they were hidden under some papers in the top drawer of Martha’s desk. Without thinking, she opened one of them, then another, then one more. All of the letters were pretty much the same: heartfelt messages from young women not unlike her reaching out for an older woman who had for some reason discarded them against their will.

I need you... I can’t go on without you… I know things ended badly between us but… Please give me one more chance… The lines blurred in Therese’s eyes, they jumped off the pages and fused into a heartbreaking epistolary of distant cries begging to be heard.          

Taking the letters with her, Therese ran back to her room. “Your laptop…” she panted to Dannie, “I need it.” Realizing she meant business, Dannie went to get it for her.

“Therese, you’re scaring me,” Dannie wailed, as he watched her punch the names on the envelopes into a search engine.

Vivian Bell, played by Helen Shaver in Desert Hearts. Therese had recognized it. Ellen March, played by Anne Heywood in The Fox. She felt dizzy. Eve Stephens, played by Tilda Swinton in Female Perversions. She wouldn’t even have to check the last name. Lena Weber, played by Isabelle Huppert in Entre Nous. The evidence stared straight at her, and all of it was probably just the tip of the iceberg.

“What is it? Why are you acting so strange?” Dannie was beside himself.

“They’re not Karen and Martha…” Therese’s voice was a crushed whisper. “They’re not who they say they are.”

Carol’s question demanded an answer. It hung heavy above Therese’s head like the sword of Damocles. “I worked at the Swarovski Crystal Worlds in Austria,” she blurted out nervously. The clumsy lie was the only thing she could think of after a painfully long absence of lucidity of any kind.

Fretting over its possible repercussions, Therese failed to notice how Carol’s movements slowed down as if the tectonic, or rather mnemonic, plates inside her head had finally clicked in place. She walked over to her desk and searched frantically for something. When Therese was about to ask what she was doing, Carol hastened to draw her fearful conclusion.

“My crystal angel…” Her voice trembled. “Someone’s stolen the crystal angel my daughter gave me.”