
"I never took you for a feminist."
The small, dimly lit bar was already packed, when Therese and Carol entered.
“There she is!”
Carol waved enthusiastically and following her gaze, Therese soon discovered Abby, perched on a leather couch in a corner of the square barroom.
Taking Therese’s hand, Carol slowly maneuvered them through a group of elderly women, engaged in a heated and already slightly drunk discussion. As usual, Carol made several heads turn and Therese was once again aware of the sharp mix of pride and jealousy that filled her whenever they were together in public. She would never feel at ease when another woman -or man- clearly showed an interest in Carol, but she also knew that such attention always left her lover totally indifferent.
“You are all I want”, Carol had said when Therese had been clearly upset after a dinner with some colleagues from the Times, where Karen, one of the theatre critics, had flirted unabashedly with Carol.
“Don’t you ever doubt that.” Carol had kissed her hard, after those words, her voice hoarse, her lips possessive, more than ever making Therese feel wanted.
“I have defended these seats with my life,” Abby declared, clearing the couch of her handbag and coat. “Those girls over there claimed it is their haunt.” She chuckled, waving her hand in the direction of the group that Carol and Therese had just passed. “Do you see the woman with the red curls? After I made it clear that this was to be my bench, she actually gave me her number … asked me to call her.”
Plopping down next to her, Carol playfully pinched her best friend’s arm. Grinning, Abby slapped Carol’s hand.
“It must be my irresistible charm …”
“Oh Abby, you just never can resist an attractive red head!”
Taking the seat next to Carol, Therese couldn’t help but smile at the two bantering friends. She knew that Abby had been and would always be Carol’s closest friend and confidant. She was grateful that Carol had been frank about their friendship from the start and had told her that Abby and she had been lovers once. They had both moved on since then, but somehow Therese was certain that Abby’s feelings for Carol had not really changed. It was at moments like these that she noticed the sparkle in Abby’s eyes and the fondness in her behaviour that she seemed to reserve only for Carol. It did not bother her. Above all, Therese appreciated Abby’s immutable loyalty to Carol and the way she would always be prepared to help her friend. And she had also to admit to herself that she just liked Abby too much to dwell upon the fact that she probably was still in love with her former lover.
“So tell me, what are we doing here?”, Carol asked, taking the glass of white wine that Abby was holding and quickly bringing it to her lips.
“A pub quiz. A feminist pub quiz, actually, so I seriously need your help.”
“What? You’re kidding me …”
Bewildered, Therese looked around, only now noticing the posters adorning the wall behind the bar announcing the quiz and showing the portraits of some women she certainly didn’t recognize.
“Abby, count me out, I know nothing about this.”
Beaming, Abby patted Carol’s knee.
“I know… But she does!”
Carol drained the glass of wine, then smiled, handing the glass back to Abby.
“Of course I do, but if you want us to win you’ll have to buy me some drinks first.”
“Nitwit.”
With some trouble Abby managed to rise from the battered couch. Shaking her head, Carol watched her friend making her way through the crowd, taking her time to talk to the redhead again on her way to the bar. Therese took Carol’s hand.
“I never took you for a pub quiz aficionado. Or for a feminist.”
Carol looked at their hands, now intertwined.
“Oh, I am full of surprises, darling.”
Bringing Carol’s hand to her mouth, Therese kissed her palm.
“Tell me…”
--------------------------------
It was one month after Therese’s opening at the prestigious art gallery. It had turned out to be the start of what could become a serious career as an independent photographer. Therese had sold several works to other galleries, but also to some private collectors. One of them had commissioned an entire series on homeless people, after buying one of her portraits of Chris, the homeless man she had met in her own neighbourhood.
Until the last moment Carol had been unsure if Genevieve would be present at the opening. But to her great relief Therese’s former lover had indeed shown up. The first guests were already leaving, when she noticed the slender woman standing at the bar, looking slightly lost. Smiling, Carol crossed the room, holding out her hand.
“Genevieve, you’ve made it… Thank you, Therese will be so pleased.”
Genevieve’s handshake was firm, in contrast to her nervous smile.
“I’m not so sure of that.”
But Carol had been right. After bidding Genevieve to stay where she was, she had fetched Therese, telling her there was someone she wanted to see.
“But I’m not expecting …”
Then she saw Genevieve, still with a nervous smile, but with arms open to welcome the woman who had been her best friend for so many years. There had been few words, those would come later. For now, there were just tears and an embrace that lasted several minutes, until Carol told Therese she had to say goodbye to some guests. After the show, Carol suggested that Genevieve would join her, Therese and some friends for a drink at Carol’s apartment. And there, sitting in the quiet room that Rindy used when she was visiting her mother, Therese and Genevieve had talked for the first time since Genevieve had left for Cambridge. It had not been easy to talk about their emotions, the hurt they had felt, the way they had missed each other, both unable to bridge the gap that existed between them. But, no doubt helped by the bottle of wine Carol had brought them, together, they had been able to find again parts of what had been the solid base of their closeness: the friendship that was now slowly being restored.
------------------------
“Well, that was quite a battle. But we won!”
A loud “pop” signalled the opening of the bottle of champagne that Abby triumphantly raised to her mouth, taking a large gulp. Beaming, Carol took the bottle from her, taking a mouthful herself. Then she handed it to Therese, who was still astounded by the almost arrogant alacrity with which Carol had answered most of the quizmaster’s questions to the increasingly drunken audience correctly.
“Don’t exaggerate, it was a piece of cake.”
Amused, Therese once again took note of Carol’s very competitive side.
“You’re very satisfied with yourself , Madam smartass …”, she teased, also taking a generous mouthful of the champagne. She felt the drink rise to her head with alarming speed.
Narrowing her yes, Carol looked at her young lover. Therese liked to tease her, something Carol secretly enjoyed but would always pretend to be indignant about.
“What do you mean, miss Belivet …
Standing, she used her height to intimidate the younger woman who was still sitting on the leather couch. Unimpressed, Therese looked her directly in the eye. Carol snorted, her eyes darkening.
“You know what I mean …”
“Oh, oh … I’ll better leave …”
Smiling knowingly, Abby grabbed her bag and the bottle that was still in Therese’s hand and managed to get up from the couch without spilling any champagne.
“See you later …”, she mumbled, heading for the red haired woman who was still standing at the bar.
Ignoring her friend, Carol slowly held out her hand to Therese.
“Get up.”
Her voice was hoarse, betraying some of the sexual excitement that was accumulating in her body. Therese blinked, weighing her options. She didn’t want to give in to Carol’s pressure, but at the same time felt the rising friction her lover’s arrogant behaviour was causing between her legs. At last she gave Carol her hand, letting her pull her off the couch.
“Let’s go home.”
Her hand gently pushing the younger woman in front of her, Carol for the second time this evening led Therese through the crowd that still lingered in the bar. Carol knew some women were looking at her with envy, were looking at the attractive, younger woman at her side, at the way they were moving together. It filled her with pride and excitement. Pride, because after so many years of having lived a secret life, she was now able to be the woman she wanted to be. And she felt excitement, because at last she could be open about how she wanted the beautiful woman next to her, knowing at the same time that this lovely person wanted her as well.