Monday
Therese couldn’t remember the last time she had been inside a Kindergarten. Bewildered, she watched the group of four and five year old’s that, tumbling and cheering, entered the classroom where their teachers tried to make them sit down on the small chairs that were placed in a half circle around a larger chair, decorated with garlands. On it sat Harge, a copy of The Gruffalo on his lap.
It had been one of the items on the schedule Carol had handed her on Saturday: Monday 8.00 AM, reading for children at Nibley Park. Intrigued, Therese had set her alarm at an unfamiliar early hour to shower and dress and have her equipment ready. To her dismay she had been picked up by Richard, but he had ignored her during the ride to Nibley Park, talking politics with the colleague from Harge’s campaign team sitting next to him.
Harge and Carol were already at the school when she arrived. They were besieged by reporters and their cameramen of several local networks, trying to get a quote from the handsome Utah Senator and his equally attractive wife. Smiling, Harge held up his hands and raised his voice.
“Seriously guys, we’re here for the children, so please give Carol and me some space.”
Still, it took more than ten minutes before, escorted by a beaming Principal and some members of her staff, they eventually reached the classroom. With the help of Linda, Harge’s PA, Therese had managed to find a spot with a perfect view of the reading chair. She could almost feel the excitement of the children when the Senator started reading:
“ A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood, a fox saw the mouse and the mouse …”
“Looked good!”, a little boy cried. Harge gave him a thumbs up and continued, every once in a while giving space to one of the children to finish a line of the well known story. Therese admired the ease with which he was able to communicate with the children and she enjoyed taking pictures of the way his expression changed every time he assumed the role of a different animal in the story.
While Harge read to the children, Carol had taken a seat at the teachers desk, right behind him. Amused, she listened to the story and the laughter and cries of excitement it evoked in the children. But she was also acutely aware of Therese’s presence in the room and tried to avoid the lens of her camera.
They had not spoken to each other since the incident at the terrace of the Eccles Theatre. On Sunday Carol had hidden herself in her study, buried in work, until her appointment with Abby. Her talk with Abby still haunted her, making her feel on edge, stripped of her usual reticence. Therese embodied this unease and she could not bear to be near her now. But she could also still feel Therese’s warm hand on her chest and her own, very physical reaction to it.
“Carol, darling?” Harge’s voice startled her, ending her thoughts about Therese. He held up a book.
“It’s your turn.”
She rose to take his place at the decorated chair. Harge went to sit between the children, taking a little girl on his lap while he tried to adjust his large frame to the little chair that would hopefully carry them both. Carol waited until the children were quiet again, with just a look silencing a reporter who was talking to one of the teachers. Then she opened the book.
“The very hungry caterpillar.”
If afterwards somebody had asked Therese what the story had been about, she would not have been able to answer. She had been mesmerized by the sound of Carol’s deep alto and, closing her eyes, she had allowed herself to be carried away by it. It was only after a few minutes that she realised she was here to capture some useful images for Harge’s campaign and she forced herself to use her camera.
She focused on the children, fully gripped by the story, where they had been noisy when Harge read to them. Then she pointed her camera at Carol, now unaware of Therese’s attention. Therese adjusted her lens, zooming in on Carol’s face. She drank in the details: the broad, sensual mouth that contrasted with her sharp jawline , the straight nose and high brow, the ice blue of her eyes, the slight lines that circled them. At last lowering her camera, Therese sighed. She could look at this woman forever.
_____________
“Did you manage to take some good shots?”
Carol’s voice sounded flat, distant even. Therese looked at the woman sitting next to her. Did it really have to be this way between them?
Once again they sat together in the ancient, dark blue Volvo. After the children had sung for them and, together with the Principal and their teachers, had waved them goodbye at the school entrance, Harge and Carol had parted ways. Harge had joined Richard and the other staff members to go to his office, which meant that Carol would take Therese with her.
“Yes, yes I did.” Therese hesitated, then decided to ignore the unnerving cool politeness Carol seemed to prefer.
“Harge is very good with children. They simply adored him.”
To her surprise a smile softened Carol’s rigid face.
“Yes. With children he becomes this huge, cuddly teddy bear they all want to cling to.”
“And you? What do you become?” Therese knew she was on dangerous ground, asking Carol such a personal question. Carol didn’t answer immediately, concentrating on the road where a truck was blocking one of the exits.
“I don’t know. What do you see through that lens of yours?”
She was challenging Therese, forcing the young woman to give something away of her feelings for her. Therese felt a knot in her stomach but decided to jump into the deep.
“I see a beautiful woman who wears a mask, trying to adjust to her surroundings without showing her fears, her doubts, her vulnerability.”
Carol remained silent, trying to digest this unexpected and uncalled for answer. Then she felt the anger well up in her.
“How dare you! Who do you think you are, thinking you can judge me like this …”
“Carol, I …”
With an irritated wave of her hand Carol made clear the conversation had ended. The silence between them that ensued soon became suffocating. Stubbornly leaning over the steering wheel with shoulders hunched, Carol drove them home, challenging the speed limit.
The house had a double underground garage where Carol parked the Volvo. Holding back her tears Therese got out and yanked at the back door of the car to get her camera bag. Suddenly she felt a movement behind her and then a hand on her shoulder.
“Therese…”
Turning, Therese met Carol’s eyes, clouded over by anger and something she could not define. The air between them vibrated, making them both hold their breath. It was Carol who took the first step, reaching for Therese’s face, taking it in both of her hands. And then their lips met in a passionate, hungry kiss that left them both speechless. Therese leaned into Carol’s body, her hands grabbing her blond curls to bring the taller woman’s lips even closer to hers. Opening her mouth for Carol’s tongue, Therese felt how Carol at the same time pressed her against the car, wedging her leg between her thighs. She moaned, moving her pelvis against Carol’s leg while Carol’s hands slipped under her coat, under her sweater, yearning for bare skin.
Aware of her mounting desire, Therese also felt alarmed by what was happening. She sensed that Carol’s touch was fuelled by an almost desperate aggression. What would happen if she gave in to it? She realized they would both seriously regret this, perhaps making it impossible to ever really come together. With force she disentangled herself from Carol’s grip.
“Carol..”
Panting, Carol buried her face in her hands. Therese reached for her, stroking her hair.
“Darling, look at me.”
Crying, her eyes veiled, Carol focused on Therese.
“Carol, I want you, but not like this.”
Carol moaned, a wounded animal. Therese put her arms around her, soothing her.
“Let’s go inside. Have a drink. Talk.”
Trembling, Carol slowly gave in to Therese’s comforting embrace. Then she nodded. Holding hands, they went inside.