Smaragdus

“Well, well, well…” Genevieve smiled, greeting Carol from the doorway of her office. “I’ve just seen the brand new posters and the banners, and I must say it’s looking very good!” She waltzed in, clearly pleased with the manner the upcoming exhibition was being taken care of.

 “I’m glad you approve,” Carol acknowledged, slightly put off by Lady Cantrell’s unexpected visit. As far as she was concerned, most of the work still lay ahead. The opening was only a few weeks away, and several serious issues had to be resolved until champagne glasses could be lined up for any celebratory toasts. “But I won’t be breathing easily until those coveted jewels have arrived here safely.”

Scoffing, Genevieve waved her reservations aside. “Carol darling, the contracts have been signed and the French have given the green light,” she reminded her curator. “And I haven’t been informed about any glitches in the security either, have you?”

Carol shook her head. “No, it’s all being arranged as we speak. When those treasures finally get here, all the alarm systems should be up and running.” Richard Semco had paid her far too many visits lately, introducing her to the finer points of his master plan.

“There you go!” Genevieve laughed. “No reason to worry about anything. No reason whatsoever.” Lady Cantrell was in a terrific mood, which Carol found a bit too much to be entirely believable. Then again who was she to judge her boss’ sunny demeanor? As long as she wasn’t unhappy, that’s all that counted.

“By the way, have the details of our side of the transport been finalised?” Genevieve inquired offhandedly while admiring the newly printed brochure on Carol’s desk.

“You mean the drive from the JFK to the Met?” Carol asked. She was surprised that a member of the board should trouble herself with a matter of simple logistics. “I suppose we will use the same armored car service as we’ve always done in cases such as this.” The idea didn’t seem to go down well with Lady Cantrell. “Or do you have a better idea?” Carol continued, noticing her apparent displeasure.

“It’s just that some of the board members feel that this time we might opt for another company…” Genevieve started, still browsing the leaflet. “Bad blood or something... boys and their toys, you know.”

Lady Cantrell’s vague explanation puzzled Carol and not least because she couldn’t think of anyone else in the board who would've given a rat’s ass whether the Empress’ jewels were brought over in a four-wheeled safe or on the back of a donkey. “If you think that we’ll have to look for another service provider, then of course we will…” Great, another headache to an already gruesome workload, flashed through Carol’s mind.

“As a matter of fact I think I can recommend a service,” Genevieve said right away. “As soon as I heard about this stupid little… conflict of interest… I took the liberty of checking out the competition. If you like, I’ll be happy to introduce you to the company’s liaison?” Her mouth curved into a smile that her eyes were not following. “Would tomorrow at lunch be okay? We’ll go downtown. You could use a change of scenery even if for just an hour.”

Lady Cantrell was making a big deal out of this, Carol thought, but she did appreciate not having to spend extra time interviewing potential candidates for this short yet important undertaking. “Of course. Whatever you say.”   

Abby took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. She wasn’t sure what she was about to do, but she knew she had to do something.

After a few minutes Dannie opened the door, wearing a faded t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts with pink bunnies printed on them. “Hey… Therese is not in,” he said, yawning.

“I know,” Abby said, walking by her drowsy friend who’d been caught in the middle of his afternoon nap. “I came to see you.”

Dannie followed her to the kitchen, scratching the back of his head, still half asleep. “That’s new,” he chuckled, somewhat nerved by her words. “Came to check up on me, huh?” he asked, feigning lightness that convinced nobody.

“I came to talk to you about Therese,” Abby said. “I know you two are close and there’s something I think you need to be aware of. Can I trust you?”

Abby’s question took Dannie by surprise. No one had ever asked him that, and he had given up hope long ago that anyone ever would. He knew that he had only himself to blame, being an ex-con and a former drug addict. No matter how long he’d been clean, his past was still a proof enough of his hopelessness as a trustworthy human being. He hadn’t even minded it, but hearing Abby’s question was nevertheless stirring to him. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, motioning Abby to take a seat across the table from him.                       

“What do you know about Therese’s life before you two met?” Abby asked not caring to beat around the bush.

“Not much. Only bits and pieces,” Dannie admitted. “I know that her that mom was a trapeze artist or something and that she died in a performance-related accident.”

Abby nodded. Even if Sandrine’s plunge had nothing to do with a trapeze, Dannie seemed to know the gist of it. “Anything else?” she inquired, not expecting to find all that much.

“Her father was a Czech-born airline pilot who lost his life in a plane crash,” Dannie continued, encouraged by Abby’s confirmation of his prior knowledge.

“He was an Armenian marine biologist who died while scuba diving in the Antilles…” Abby started before realizing the weird similitude between their stories. “I suppose it’s safe to say we know nothing about his father,” she concluded, visibly amused.

“We never talked about the past,” Dannie said wistfully. “I guess we just wanted to leave it behind…” He looked sad, and once again Abby remembered how very little Dannie and Therese knew about what she and Genevieve knew about them.

“Did Therese ever talk to you about anyone in her mother’s life?” Abby asked, leaning toward him.

“No, I don’t think so… why do you ask?” Dannie wanted to know.

“Well, Dannie my boy, it just happens that her past is catching up with her, and I don’t know what to do with the information I now have.” Somewhere along the line, and it must have happened quite recently, Abby had lost her ability to lie, so there it was - the awful truth. “You do know that she’s been shielding you all these years, don’t you?” she asked him.

Dannie did know. Maybe not always consciously but deep down he had always been aware of Therese’s unwavering support and love that had kept him from the ultimate ruin. Without her he would have slipped into the abyss again and again, but every time that he had faced his weakness, she had pulled him back and restored life in him. “Yes.”

The calmness of his simple answer filled Abby with confidence. “She can’t go ahead with the heist. If she does, she will be caught by someone much more evil than Genevieve. And this person will be the end of her, there is no doubt in my mind about it.”

Dannie looked at Abby, frightened yet uncharacteristically level-headed. “Why can’t you tell her yourself?” he asked. “She’s your friend too.”

Any other time Dannie’s remark would’ve been plenty enough to open the dam of Abby’s suppressed regrets, but now she swallowed her pain to make him see more clearly what had to be done. “Dannie… I’m no better than Genevieve,” she started. “In many ways I’m much worse than her.” Even though she hadn't abused Therese and Dannie herself, she had let it happen. In the end it had been her friendship, no matter how truly she had cared for both of them, that had enabled Genevieve's wicked acts.       

Dannie didn’t understand, for he was as fond of Abby as anyone who is endlessly hungry for love and affection the rest of the world had withheld from him. “Don’t say that… remember the night we had together… we’ll all be fine,” he insisted, holding onto the memory of his bonding with both Therese and Abby after Sine Causa. It had had a semblance of real happiness for him.

Abby’s smile was dejected. “Therese has the means to get you both out of here, and she should before it’s too late.” She grabbed Dannie’s hand to stress her point. “She won’t listen to me, but if you say that you want to get out nowwith her, she will make it happen.”

Dannie didn’t know how to respond to her eager plea. A part of him understood Abby’s fear, and that compartment of her heart was ready to act on it. But what Abby couldn’t know was that Dannie had never initiated a thing in his life; that essentially he would always remain a piece of driftwood waiting for a current to show him the way.         

It was almost noon, and the staff of the museum was looking forward to the lunch hour. A lone figure was standing in the middle of the floor of a room that was being stripped down of the artwork that had graced its walls only moments ago. The woman, for there was no mistaking the person for anything else, was in striking contrast to her surroundings since she was the only stationery object among the busy maintenance crew that paid no attention to her.

Carol had been looking at her for quite some time, and she was in no hurry to have the woman turn around and see her. Therese was a welcome sight even from behind, the coiffed brown hair at shoulder-length and her arms at ease by her sides. Display cases were being dragged out and fresh paint applied to the surfaces of the already cleared walls, but the noise seemed to have no effect on her. Therese both was and wasn’t in the room, which fascinated Carol.

After a while Carol joined Therese, too curious not to find out what had captivated her mind so entirely. “Hello,” she said, afraid she would not be welcome. Her fear was unnecessary.

“Hello,” Therese replied with a smile that made Carol forget the din around them. “I had to come here one more time before everything is taken away.” Seeing a huge colorful print of a meticulously preened warrior on its way out made her sigh. “I absolutely loved this exhibition,” she offered as her quiet explanation.

“It’s always sad to see something good being dismantled,” Carol said. “We work so long and hard to capture some essence or idea of humanity only to have it replaced with what comes next.”

“And in between there is this moment of nothingness, of bare white walls and empty spaces.” Therese must have thought about it when she thought no one was watching, Carol mused.  

“In a way it’s refreshing,” Carol said. “It lets you see what can be done, what the space allows you to do. It’s hard to picture something new in the midst of old clutter.”

Therese looked at Carol, an inscrutable edge in her eyes. “It’s terrifying to give up what you’ve grown accustomed to.”

“Of course,” Carol admitted, daring to look back just as intensely as Therese had. “But how else are we to move forward?” It was crystal clear to both of them that they were no longer talking about exhibitions, yet neither of them was willing to venture further than that.

“It’ll be hard for me to think of this room as anything else than belonging to the brave nomads,” Therese said changing the subject. A maintenance man in blue overalls was currently removing the main wall label stating “The Wodabe - The People of the Taboo”.

Carol picked up a laminated exhibition note left still lying around. “Like birds in the bush, we never settle down, and we leave no trace of our passage…” she read out loud. “Sounds like poetry, yet their gruelling life is far from poetic.”

Surprised, Therese glanced at her. “I don’t agree. I find their customs very poetic,” she pointed out. “The way they court while looking for a partner, the beauty and the dancing - the bias still being on the charm, personality and magnetism of the potential beloved.” Carol didn't have to look to know that Therese was grinning.

“Did you read the part in the exhibition catalogue where it said that the couples can’t hold hands in broad daylight?” Carol asked, keeping her own eyes still glued on the brochure.

“Or talk in a personal way.” Therese added. “Love happens in the dark…” Maybe she hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it was too late now. Carol had heard her alright.

“You think so?” Carol asked, emboldened by the moment that seemed to encapsulate everything all at once. “They may also steal wives from their husbands during the dance they do…” Right now her courage knew no bounds even though her motive for saying it clashed against her better judgment.  

Therese turned to Carol, too stunned to remain secretive. Her fervent wish and the impulse to follow it through were both out in the open, but she hadn’t been the one who had put it there. What is it that you would like to steal?  Carol had asked her in the restaurant. Therese had known the answer then, and she knew it now. She was standing in the bright light of the day, but she didn’t hesitate to admit it to herself once more.    

Neither of them had noticed the people managing their chores getting scarce until there was no one left except the two of them. Maybe that’s why what happened next came to them as such a huge surprise: the lights were turned off for the lunch hour and the room sank into abrupt darkness. Only the marked exits lent their shimmer to their unexpected privacy. 

The ensuing silence grew heavy, only the escape routes shining their green approval into the traffic of their minds. A tender touch on her hip made Therese aware of Carol’s immediate approach, but she had no time to think about the question it posed when she already gave her answer. She pulled Carol close and pressed her lips against her mouth with the certainty of someone who needs only stars and the moon to navigate the sleepy depths of the sea. Therese tasted Carol, and out of the prolonged contact grew a communion sweeter than she had dared to dream.

The kiss spread through Carol like wildfire, Therese’s firm grip fanning its flames higher than she had thought possible. Yet what was scorched in her only became more vibrant and alive with each second and every breath they were lucky to share. The urgency intensified, and the need to have even more escalated, spilling out in strained sobs. Carol had waited for this for so long, and now as it was happening, she was palpably aware that she wanted everything else that came with it, too. She drew in the air that was Therese, filling her nostrils with her scent that bore a vague resemblance to something she couldn’t yet pinpoint.

Therese sensed the rise in Carol and it made her happier than she had ever been. She was euphoric, still holding Carol tight and kissing her, but she also knew that what had commenced could not be taken further in a room that would all too soon be busy with the returning workers. “Not here,” Therese whispered to Carol’s ear. “Easy, sweetheart…”

The scent and the words mingled - 

It was right then and there that Carol remembered.