Waterloo

Musée Rodin bathed in bright sunlight when they stepped out of the taxi.  An extensive garden displaying many of the artist’s famous sculptures surrounded the distinguished looking stone building. Therese excused herself to the ladies’ room. “Take your time”, Carol said, “It’s not like I need anyone to hold my hand in here.” Not waiting a response, she headed towards the first exhibition room.

Now, breathe… Therese told herself splashing her face with cold water. What’s gone into me?  She wasn’t happy about the way the day was starting out, and she knew she herself was to blame for it. What on earth had given her the bright idea to read so much into Carol’s kindness and generosity that she had expected her to kiss her at the end of the day? Such arrogance on my part.

Still, she did usually have a very good sense about these things. At least she had been accurate most of the times in the past. But now she was obviously pining after a straight woman for as far as she knew there was nothing telling her otherwise, nothing concrete anyway. Carol was a wife and a mother, a very attractive woman in the most feminine way. The mere idea of her gorgeousness was enough to throw Therese off balance. I really need to get laid, that’s all, she sighed at her reflection in the mirror.

“This is not working for me anymore”, her first female lover had said to her. It had taken time for Therese to understand what she really meant. “This has nothing to do with you,” she had told her, “but it has everything to do with me.” The young woman had had a pained expression on her face. “I mean I’ve seriously started to rethink the choices I’ve made… Such a big part of me wants to have an ordinary  life, a far less complicated than the one I’ve been leading.” Up till now she had avoided Therese’s gaze. “I guess life is too difficult even without the extra burden of taking the ‘road less traveled’”, she had said letting out a sad, little laugh. “And I think I actually do want to have a husband and a family one day.” The news had had a shattering effect on Therese. “What I’m saying is I want to keep my options open and it’s just not going to happen if I remain in this relationship.”

How could I compete with that?  Therese had thought choking back the inevitable tears. If her lover had come to the end of her phase, who was she to prevent her from closing this chapter in her life? “I hope we can still be friends. I really do care for you, Therese.” The word had stung her bitterly – the compassionate care.   

Therese hadn’t liked what she had heard but she had felt compelled to accept it like one accepts a terminal illness. Not without the five stages of grief, though. At first she had been in denial of the whole thing: after everything we’ve shared, this can’t be happening to me. Then she had felt angry: why had she lured me into this if she was only going to leave me in the end? Bargaining had been a bitch: if only I had seen this coming, I could have met her half way and made sure she realized I could also give her everything her heart desired. That it needn’t be difficult. When the depression had sunk in Therese had been certain she would never ever have sex with another woman again for she had been the only one for her. How awful  her life would be after her.

Once she had finally accepted it as a fact she couldn’t escape, something she couldn’t possibly challenge, the real blow came. Therese had promised Dannie they would go out on a Saturday night, to blow away the cobwebs of her sorry self, as he had put it. They had ended up in a gay club having a mixed night for both men and women. There it was for both Therese and the rest of the party people to see – her former lover once more taking the ‘road less traveled’. Watching her probe some woman’s tonsils with her eager tongue, Therese had felt nauseous to say the least. She hadn’t known such humiliation even existed.

Dannie had tried to console her any way he could. “Well, maybe she is bisexual. Maybe she did mean it at the time.” His cheering up had had little effect on Therese. “Can you imagine what it must be like for bisexuals? To have this buffet table of sex, this overwhelming abundance of choices around you all the time?” Dannie had laughed. “I’m glad you and I know what we want and who we want it with. I’d die if I’d have to be checking out women as well!” But Therese hadn’t quite accepted what Dannie had suggested, and all this confusion had led her to the disaster now known as Richard.

Carol was standing in front of the Femmes damnées, Damned Women, depicting lesbian passion. Ooo-kay… Therese thought joining her discreetly. The early version of the one on the right pilaster of The Gates of Hell  had two women in a rather acrobatic embrace. After a while they looked at each other not saying a word. Say something, you damn fool, Therese scolded herself. “Ehm… did you know Rodin was kind of obsessed with damned women?” she asked just to stay on the subject. “In fact I did”, Carol responded taking another look at the insatiable couple. “He was really into Baudelaire, inspired by Fleurs du mal…” she went on. “Quite a pose, don’t you think?” Therese nodded her dimples deepening. “Doesn’t look too comfortable.” Hearing her quip, Carol cast a quick glance at her. Therese thought she saw a smile form on Carol’s lips but wasn’t too sure about it. It could have been wishful thinking.

“You remind me of her”, Carol commented when they were marveling the works of Camille Claudel, Rodin’s pupil and one time lover. “I think you share a certain fierceness of character, a somewhat sullen outlook on life”, she elaborated. Therese wasn’t sure she liked what she was hearing. “In that case it doesn’t promise much good for me”, she attempted in a light-hearted tone. “She had quite a temper, violent and eccentric. And she did go mad in the end.” Carol was having none of it. “Now that was rather an oversimplification on your part, wasn’t it? The art history is full of ill-tempered, violent men whose behavior was nothing short of insane but no one judges them quite so quickly.” Hearing her rebuke, Therese stiffened.

“In many ways, Claudel was a victim of her time not being recognized by the patriarchal establishment as the extraordinary artist she was.” Carol continued. “It was her family, mostly her dear brother, who committed her into an asylum against her will for thirty years. Even the hospital personnel recommended her release but no, they let her die in there instead.”

Therese was embarrassed but also irritated. She had been wrong to make light of the matter but she had also just wanted to lighten their rapport which had taken such an ugly turn that morning. “Well, I suppose I was too quick to make a joke of it… being too young and all. I do know what you’re saying and I think what happened to Camille was a travesty of the worst kind.” Therese could feel the bad mood returning clouding her thoughts. She didn’t look at Carol though she knew she was looking at her.

“I adore Les Causeuses, The Gossips,” Therese said gesturing towards the delicate composition, “and I can’t even begin to understand the painstaking process to make something this unique out of such impossible materials as onyx marble.” She was all professional again her voice as cool and level as ever. “And this one, La Vague, The Wave, is for me the culmination of her virtuosity. She’s finally stepping out of Rodin’s shadow and creating something uniquely hers – the wave of destiny she felt in her bones and in her work so vividly ready to overpower the bathers…” Therese took a closer look at the piece. “Just look at the colors, the exquisite green contrasted with the bronze.” She was enthralled by what she witnessed. “Yes, I can see it,” Carol replied quietly but she wasn’t looking at the work, she was looking at Therese.

“The lunch we had was quite a disappointment, don’t you think?” Carol said after they had left the museum. “How about we have a drink before returning to the hotel? We could decide on where to have dinner while relaxing a bit.” Her eyes radiated warmth, a curious eagerness to smooth things over between them. “Sounds good”, Therese approved trying to sound casual about it.  

Carol wanted them to go to the Le Fumoir, a cozy restaurant-bar near the Louvre on Rue de l'Amiral de Coligny. Therese loved the place immediately for its discreet, intimate chic with dark leather and smooth lacquer. Any place with bookcases lining the walls was her idea of heaven, she told Carol. “I’m glad,” Carol laughed, “it was worth making the trip here then.”

They ordered martinis since Carol said they were particularly good and a plate of appetizers. Lounging on a lush armchair Therese realized she was quite exhausted by their active day and the strong cocktail wasn’t actually helping. Had she been with anyone else, she would have suggested calling the rest of the evening off for some alone time in her hotel room.

“What do you say we sample a bit more of that seafood we had yesterday afternoon?” Carol took a bite of her spiced bread with sherry-marinated herring. “You have something… yeah, right there.” Therese couldn’t help noticing a crumb of bread on the corner of Carol’s mouth. Smiling, Carol wiped the sticky residue away. “I’m all for it”, Therese replied a bit too greedily.

“Would you then mind wearing the green Louis Vuitton dress we bought yesterday?” Carol asked, her eyes fixed on hers. Flustered, Therese had to turn her gaze away. “No, I mean, of course I’ll wear it, if you like…” Then, mustering up all her courage she continued, “…and since we’re making requests, would you wear the black pants suit, Armani, was it?” She couldn’t believe she had just said that.   

“Of course, darling”, Carol nodded running her fingers through her blonde hair and as she did so Therese caught a whiff of her dusky perfume. They stayed at the bar for a long time, ordered another round of cocktails, but Therese wasn’t really sure what they were talking about. All of it seemed to take on a wonderfully trivial level as if the spoken words were merely joyfully bumping into one another, filling the articulate space of their otherwise muted exchange.  

Back at the hotel Therese got ready for the evening after a useless attempt at napping. Undressing and putting on the Vuitton, she was elated by Carol’s request for it made her feel everything was possible once more. Yet when she tried to think what it exactly was she hoped to come to fruition she couldn’t quite get a hold of it. It seemed to elude her, mock her sudden, inexplicable desperation. Everything is possible and utterly ridiculous at the same time. The fabric of the garment felt plush on her skin, softer than anything she had ever worn and the sensation it stirred within her made her both giddy and tense.