Autoportrait
At least I know where she lives, occurred to Carol as she was crossing the street to the furniture shop she and Abby ran together. It was early Monday morning, and she was hoping to catch up with some work she’d neglected the previous week. She’d spent the entire Sunday trying to make sense out of what had happened at Abby’s place.
She’d been attracted to Therese, there was no denying that, and it didn’t bother her at all. To be honest she wasn’t even surprised by it – the only surprise was the fact that she wasn’t. Carol had wanted Therese but not just in the usual way. She’d been touched by her undeniable beauty, the eloquence and the maturity she had come to personify in just a day and a half. When Carol had gotten back home Saturday night, her heart had felt heavy on her chest like a jagged rock grinding its cavity into a bloody pulp each time it risked another beat.
It would’ve been good to have Rindy home the next morning to give her something else to think about but then again Carol doubted if her mind would’ve been able to drift too far away from the enigma of Therese. “I’m not worth knowing” rang relentlessly in Carol’s ears sending her to yet another wild goose chase of guessing and speculating as what could’ve prompted her to say a thing like that.
Carol had picked up a volume of collected poems from her bookcase and searched for the one Therese had quoted from memory. To her surprise there was more to it than what Therese had recited in their moonlit room.
I look, but recognize no more
Objects familiar to my view;
The very pathway to my door
Is an enchanted avenue.
All things are changed. One mass of shade,
The elm-trees drop their curtains down;
By palace, park, and colonnade
I walk as in a foreign town.
The very ground beneath my feet
Is clothed with a diviner air;
While marble paves the silent street
And glimmers in the empty square.
Illusion! Underneath there lies
The common life of every day;
Only the spirit glorifies
With its own tints the sober gray.
In vain we look, in vain uplift
Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;
We see but what we have the gift
Of seeing; what we bring we find.
Carol had been tempted to read great many things to Longfellow’s rhymes left out in the moment they had shared. Still she had decided not to because whatever Therese was could hardly be explained by overlooked sentences of any kind. She had recognized the attraction Therese must have felt for the poem, though. The way things, even the most familiar ones, can be seen in a different light and how useless it is to attempt to understand anything worth knowing if one is blind and unable to see it in the first place. What we bring we find. The last words had especially resonated with Carol who had become even more invested in her need to know more about Therese, to know all about her.
To Carol’s dismay, Abby was already in the shop when she got in. “Good morning,” she greeted Carol but her usually so cheerful voice was now subdued at best.
“Morning,” Carol reciprocated heading straight to the back office. Abby followed her in.
“How are you?” Abby asked watching Carol closely as she sat down at the computer to read her emails. “I’ve been worried sick over you.” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“How could she?!“ Carol exclaimed suddenly surprising not only Abby but herself as well. “I thought Gen was my friend.”
Distressed, Abby folded her arms and took a step back. “It wasn’t Gen.” She was saddened by Carol’s hasty accusation. “As a matter of fact Gen was on her way to warn you guys when she saw you kissing outside. It was Laurie, Megan’s friend.” Sighing, she now pulled out a chair and sat on it. “She tried to stop Therese entering the house but she went in anyway.” Carol stared at Abby not knowing what to say.
“What’s this all about, Carol?” Abby asked gently. “Were you so afraid you felt compelled to…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. “Not that she isn’t a lovely gal. At least Gen seems to think so. She met Therese when she was still with Lenny.”
Lenny? Carol had no idea what Abby was talking about. “Who is he?” she asked her voice quivering with uncertainty for she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear Abby’s answer.
“Lenny, or Lenore, is a she,” Abby explained, “She used to be Gen’s friend – the bias being on the words used to be.” She picked up a box of matches and played with it absentmindedly. “When they broke up Lenny humiliated Therese in front of all her friends by telling everybody that she’s just a no good hooker she’d picked up to have some fun with.” Abby squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “After that Gen cut all ties with Lenny. ‘There’s one rich bitch I don’t want to have anything to do with’, she told me.”
The screen Carol had been staring at just a moment ago became blurry and impossible to comprehend. The lines on her email feed fused and bumped into each other making no sense at all. She looked at her hands on the keyboard – they were shaking, tapping the black pads just enough to cause them to patter restlessly.
“Carol…” Abby started cautiously, “Why did you..?” She still didn’t have it in her to make it into a full question.
“Does it matter?” Carol whispered flooded with desperation. “I must have put her through hell,” she wailed at her friend. There was no point in hiding anything from Abby so she let it all come out. Every lovely word spoken between her and Therese, every single look that could’ve been interpreted as having some deeper meaning, the artichoke, the silly game, the poem and the hair in her bed, and above all else the kiss… everything burst out of her in one tumultuous torrent of tears although it was only the tears Abby saw and heard.
“You really like her, don’t you?” Abby said gently as she let Carol cry in her arms. What a simple truth it was to really like someone and to wish away the pain she was going through.
After work Carol drove her Aston Martin back to the neighbourhood where she had dropped Therese off. Knowing that a car like hers would likely attract attention, she parked it a bit further down the road where she lived. Carol had no wish to bump into her at this time, after all she wouldn’t know what to say and furthermore it could seriously aggravate Therese as well.
Having no real plan on her mind, Carol started to feel stupid just hanging around and hiding in the doorways every time somebody exited Therese’s building. Just as she was about to give up and leave altogether she saw a woman of about her age and status walk out of the front door and head towards her direction. It won’t hurt trying, Carol thought drawing a deep, decisive breath.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she addressed the woman when she’d gotten close enough. “Do you happen to live in that building?” The stranger stopped to hear her out. “My apologies for prying but I’ve been looking for a temporary downtown apartment for myself and I’ve been contemplating whether to rent one in here.”
The woman looked at Carol from head to toe and seemed to appreciate what she saw. “Oh no, you don’t want to live here,” she answered emphatically, “I was just visiting my daughter and after what I’ve just seen, I will need a day or two to calm my nerves.” She laughed freely at her own wittiness.
“So young adults then, huh?” Carol asked attempting to join in her amusement.
Rolling her eyes, the woman nodded. “I’m afraid so. Mostly NYU brats – like my Ann – sharing apartments and causing all kinds of trouble to the landlord I’m sure.”
A smile formed on Carol’s lips. “NYU, you say? Thank you so very much.” She had no wish to spend any more time with the lady who seemed so put off by the frivolous youth.
“NYU Tisch School of the Arts. Photography and Imaging."
Extremely pleased with herself, Carol browsed the website to get a better understanding of the department and its facilities. While doing so, she picked up her phone to call her lawyer.
“Fred? Yes, it’s me. Good to…” An eager male voice hastened to ask about her weekend. “It was fine… I overreacted. Listen, Fred, could you do me a favour?” Her friend was all ears. “I need you to do some detective work for me on this person I’m interested in…” A spurt of knowing laughter interrupted her. “C’mon, Fred, it’s nothing like that, she’s an artist….” Again she had to pause to let him get his giggles out. “Yes, it’s a she but there’s absolutely no need for you to make too much out of it, okay?”
Finally Fred calmed down enough to listen to what Carol wanted him to do. “Her name is Therese Belivet and she’s a student at NYU Tisch. Please find out anything you can about her but do it discreetly. Under no circumstances is she to find out about any of these inquiries.” Fred promised to look into it right away.
On her way to pick Rindy up she made a stop at the Tisch building at 721 Broadway. Since she had plenty of time to drive over to Harge’s house she decided to have a look at the Gulf + Western Gallery in the lobby.
“I’m not supposed to let any visitors in at this time, ma’am,” the doorman informed Carol apologetically.
“Please, just five minutes? I was told that the students of NYU’s photography department have their works on display here.” She gave the man her loveliest smile. “I’m in town for such a short visit and only just learned that my niece is among the artists…” Blushing slightly, the man stepped away and told Carol to take all the time she needed.
Carol walked around the small exhibition space stopping at times to read the caption under an individual photograph. She however didn’t necessarily need to read the one belonging to Therese for she recognized it the moment she laid her eyes on it – it was an autoportrait.
The large black-and-white picture depicted a young woman in dirty, striped overalls just about to look over her shoulder her stare still caught by the obtrusive camera. She was standing next to a huge gearwheel tightening it with a monkey wrench. Therese’s hair was bobbed in the 1920’s style and her cheeks were smudged with streaks of engine oil visible on her arms and hands as well. The savage look in her formidable eyes was humorously exaggerated. No wonder Carol’s smile widened when she read the title of the work – “Modern Times aka Soviet Avant-Garde”.
Fred Haymes called the next morning and asked if Carol could stop by his office at noon. He had dug up a whole lot of information on Therese – her study records, student loans, former and current employers (excluding Perpetual Sunrise), birth certificate etc.
“There’s one more thing I need for you to do,” Carol said to Fred. ”You belong to several Boards of Trustees, don’t you?” Intrigued, Fred just nodded. “And many of the corporations you represent look from time to time some art work for their public facilities, right?”
“That’s right,” Fred confirmed. “What do you have in mind?” Again he went straight to the point.
“I want you to contact NYU Tisch and buy one of the works on display at the Tisch building,” Carol elaborated. “I will of course pay for it but the money trail cannot lead to me at any point.” She looked at her friend to see if he understood. “That’s where you come in: you express your official interest in supporting a young artist by purchasing her work in the name of a company of your own choosing.” Fred looked very suspicious but Carol didn’t let it stop her. “And you won’t let them name the price either, do you understand? You will tell them your standard payment – say, 20 000 USD? I believe that will be quite enough.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Fred leaned on his desk. “Quite enough? Quite enough!? Are you fucking kidding me? It’s a fortune for some student work…” He looked at Carol afraid his friend had gone completely off her rocker. “What’s going on, Carol? This smells fishy to me.” He narrowed his eyes. “This is no ordinary interest, is it?”
Carol’s smile was mild, temperate. “Just do as I tell you, darling. I know what I’m doing.”
“Welcome to the landscape photography course.” The teacher’s voice reached all the participants gathered at the Union Square. “My name is Therese Belivet, and I will guide you through four individual sessions around this area and Central Park as well.” She was happy to see the interest being just as high as it had been all the previous times she’d given the course.
“We’ll be focusing on honing your compositional skills to especially suit the outdoors. This way you’ll gain not only a better understanding of your digital camera but also way better travel photos next time you’re face to face with truly scenic moments…” She was chuckling along with a man and a woman making fun of their old vacation pictures when the laughter suddenly died in her throat.
A truly scenic moment stood in the back row of Therese’s apt pupils. She was blonde and she had a brand new camera in her hands.