Waterloo

"I really don't need this co-dependent shit anymore." Therese had said it in the heat of the moment and regretted it almost instantly. It was a terrible thing to say, to reduce five years into a hateful quip designed only to hit where it hurt the most. She could have put it in so many other, more constructive ways. 

She could have talked to Genie about her feelings of loneliness and misery of not being able to experience the closeness they had once shared. How everything that had once energized her entire existence had at some point turned into its exact opposite, something that had sucked life out of both of them. How they both were miserable, not just her alone for she could tell Genie hadn't been happy either, not for quite some time. Once they'd been like a perfect pair of gloves, ready to take on any shiny challenge thrown their way. Now it seemed they were nothing more than two worn out mittens, each forlorn and missing its original pair.

Towards the end of their third year together, she had shown Genie one of her favorite portraits at the National Portrait Gallery, Medallion by Gluck. It depicts the artist herself and her lover Nesta Obermer in a striking pose, Gluck standing sideways in front of Nesta both of them looking regally ahead. "On this day and age of Facebook, this is the quintessential profile picture. Two for the price of one," Genie had chuckled seeing the painting.

Therese had meant to tell her all about the portrait, about her feelings regarding it but after hearing her easy remark she had shut up like a clam. It had been childish of her, but she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that Genie was being harsh and insensitive. Therese had passed an instant judgment and it had been unfair of her. How could Genie have known what the painting meant to her unless she told her? Instead she had stubbornly wanted her to understand its importance without telling about it in so many words.

Therese loved the painting for its grandeur, for its "we two against the world" attitude it seemed to exude. And yet there was a distinct sadness to it - Gluck's somber expression and Nesta's surprised, straying eyes. There's light on her face but shadow on Gluck's. Lately she had come to think of it as something that had happened to them. Therese realizing a change in the air they shared, Genie staring morosely ahead, neither of them taking time to look at each other. How very proper it had been for her to see the portrait on the cover of a new pocket edition of a book she had read a few years ago. The Well of Loneliness, a real barrel of laughs, she had scoffed amusedly.

Co-dependent shit, she had called it. The aftermath of such a cruel wording had been predictable. "You're a cold, heartless bitch."  So we’re here, Therese had thought suddenly quite calmly, though it had been a very different kind of calmness she usually knew. A dead calm, a bitter chill had blown through her leaving her with only three hard, belittling words to shield herself with. Not very original, she had thought icily though it hadn’t been the first time she had heard it either.

“You’re a cold-hearted bitch”, Richard had said to her when she had packed her things to leave for good. At that time it hadn’t really mattered for nothing with Richard had ever mattered. Therese had let him rescue her from the torrid love she had lost, and her leaving him without a word of explanation had been his ultimate reward.

She had wanted to forget the abruptly ended affair altogether, to put it behind her and not think about it ever again. Richard had come along and he had seemed like a perfectly sensible solution to patch up her bruised ego. I can do this, she had told herself, this is light, joyful and good – enough.I can settle for this.

Only a moron starts a relationship by telling herself settling is a viable option, Therese had thought later. A moron or a very young person. Someone might have said there wasn’t really a difference between those two. She, for one, had been a complete idiot thinking she could slip back to her previous life with boys and men who never got her nor vice versa.

It had been sheer torture even before her first female lover, her being bored out of her mind with her boyfriends and the company they kept. With men she had always been alone – alone in a crowd, alone with the guy she was dating at the moment, but after the first real love it had finally become virtually impossible. It took her an unforgivably long time to realize it with Richard, though. How could I ever even think of letting a man take me to bed after knowing what it was like to be with a woman? she had thought very soon after she had met Richard. The images of desire awakened by another woman’s touch, of her overwhelming softness, of the sheer bliss of knowing how to complement one another in the most intimate way couldn’t be erased away.    

“Be bad, but at least don’t be a liar, a deceiver!” writes Leo Tolstoy in Anna Karenina. Therese had clung to this wisdom desperately, knowing fully well that anyone could find beautifully written lines to justify anything their hearts desired in any given moment.

She became the cold, heartless bitch at the end of their fifth year together. Soon there was to be no co-dependent shit, nothing between the two of them anymore.  

Therese had the Rothko Room all to herself the following day – and the day after that and the day after that. For a moment she thought about finding out Carol’s address and going to see the street she lived on hoping to catch a sight of her. I’m not going to do that, she denied herself, I’m not that desperate.

Two days later she knocked on Abigail Gerhard’s office door determined to trick her into giving her the address under some false pretense. Miss Gerhard was sitting at her desk, typing enthusiastically on her laptop. Therese could feel her courage wither away like a whiff of smoke.

“Therese… what brings you here?” she asked. Therese didn’t know what to say but luckily she didn’t have to. Miss Gerhard was way ahead of her. “I’m glad you came by since I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Therese was grateful for the interruption. “We’ve planned a guided trip to Paris, a long weekend of museums, galleries, you name it, and we’ve offered this unique chance to some of our most treasured sponsors.” Miss Gerhard smiled somewhat apologetically before continuing. “It is a drag in many ways, I know, most of the attendees are usually more interested in shopping… but it is what we do from time to time and it pays off, eventually.” Therese was curious to know what this had to do with her. “So I’ve been meaning to ask if you would like to escort the next group as Tate Modern’s guide and representative? It is a lot of work, I’ll admit that, but it would pay well.”

Therese knew exactly how tremendously gruesome it could get with a bunch of spoiled posh Londoners thrown at her mercy. But she could also use the money, in fact she needed it badly. “Okay, I guess, if you think I’m up to it?” she asked cautiously. “Can’t think of anyone more suitable for the job – if you’re able to go, that is?” Miss Gerhard was referring to the incident in the hospital. “Yes, I can go,” Therese volunteered knowing her presence wasn’t presently called for anywhere near Genie’s convalescence. The trip would take place already at the end of next week, and all necessary arrangements had been made, Miss Gerhard informed her. She would only have to show up and take her lead from there.

Therese spent the following days refreshing everything she knew about the museums they’d visit in Paris, Louvre, Musée d’Orsay and Musée Rodin being the first ones she would guide the group through. It was a lot to digest in a matter of days but she didn’t mind, it kept her mind occupied and away from the fact that she had never got around to ask for Carol’s address.

Early Thursday morning she made her way to Tate Modern carrying her suitcase along, ready to embark on a journey she was certain she wouldn’t enjoy one iota. It was very much like her to approach the matter with a sullen attitude for it left her a chance to be positively surprised if something, anything, should go right for a change.

The minibus taking them to Heathrow airport was already waiting. Therese was surprised to find it quite empty. She went to talk to the driver. “Is everything okay?” she asked him her tone somewhat upset. Therese was counting on this trip, counting on the money she’d get out of it. “Suppose so”, the driver said taking a drag out his cigarette, “though I can’t understand all the fuss about just one passenger… couldn’t you have just taken a cab or something?” Therese wasn't paying attention to him anymore. One passenger? She took another peek inside the minibus.

Her heart stopped. Could it be..? Yes. Mrs. Carol Aird was sitting in the back row, clearly enjoying her cigarette. Noticing Therese, her lips curved into an enticing smile. “Hello,” she greeted in her customary fashion. There was joyful lightness in the way she said it. “Hello,” Therese hastened to answer flustered by her abrupt gaiety.

“I guess it’s just the two of us then”, Carol noted measuring Therese from head to toe. “Do you mind?” she inquired suddenly worried Carol would some how be displeased by the turn of events. “Hell no!” she retorted and her swearing brought a wide grin on Therese's face. “Do you do these things a lot? Take part in guided tours?” she couldn’t help asking. “Never. This is my very first time.” Carol winked at her. “I thought this might just be the thing to give me pleasure.”