Chapter 2
To be alive: not just the carcass
But the spark.
That’s crudely put, but…
If we’re not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?
Gregory Orr
Therese woke to the sound of birds warbling their morning songs. She looked at the bedside table clock and saw the luminous hands revealing the 4:30 am time. That’s when the birds wake me at home. Do all birds have their alarms set for 4:30? Then Therese imagined the earth spinning through its rotation and each click of 4:30 sending a new aviary choir into their morning song. The idea that the earth’s rotation was gifting its inhabitants, every morning, one after another, with nature’s choir gave Therese a sense of peace and centeredness that had been slipping away for the past few days.
“Oh, signorina. Again, you are stunning in another of our ensembles. What a special treat is for me to see our clothes worn by someone who…how do you say…has them on their best behavior?”
Therese smiled sweetly at the woman then turned to Carol with a puzzled look. Carol thought for a moment then realized what their assistant was trying to say.
“Oh, I think you mean that Therese is able to wear these dresses in such a way that shows off their best features.”
“Yes, yes that’s it exactly. Our signorina was born to dress in our finest Italian designs. We have so many young artists in fashion accessories, fast automobiles, architettura – exploding with ideas, like the bombs….” The assistant stopped herself as her face clouded over with memories. “Perdonami, I do not mean to bring sad days into our lovely time here with you due bellissima donne. It’s not so long ago, the war. The bombs.”
Carol and Therese looked at each other not sure how to respond. The assistant’s face clearly showed she had left the elegant showroom and was somewhere they couldn’t imagine.
"Oh, look at me. The Allies, they come. Yes, some bombs. Some shooting the guns. My own parish church had windows broken.” She made the sign of the cross. “But my apartment, no hit. What would we have done without Yanks and Brits. Cimitero di Guerra di Milano. Sacred ground.” She crossed herself again and brought herself back to the present.
“Mi scusi. I am here with you beautiful ladies and we are looking at Italy’s finest fashions. This is a good day for us all, yes?”
Carol watched as Therese came out of the dressing room wearing another design that looked like it was tailor made for her. They had spent the late morning being treated like royalty as the sales assistant oohed and aahed over how naturally the latest fashions draped on Therese as if the designer had her in mind when she was at the drawing board. There would be some length adjustments and a nip and tuck here and there, but even with needing these alterations, Therese was stunning in the haute couture of Milan’s finest designers.
Carol was having trouble reading Therese’s reactions to this impromptu fashion show. Therese had never been exposed to this kind of “shopping.” Trying on clothes in a group dressing room in Bloomingdales bargain basement was what she had known. Carol watched as Therese surreptitiously tried to find a price tag on each of the outfits. Of course, that was a futile quest. This stratum of shopping was the sort of experience where outfits were tried on and selections made, a bill would arrive later, and an accountant would write the check to pay for it all.
When the sales assistant had left to get another “must try” outfit, Carol looked at Therese in just her bra and panties. Standing on the low podium for her fittings, she looked like she had been carved out of Michelangelo’s marble from Carrara. She was flawless. She was not the typical curvaceous woman that was popular in Italy or in Hollywood, but her proportions were perfect. Her slender figure could look almost boyish except for what Carol knew was under the restrictions that the fashion and morality police required. Carol looked at her perfectly shaped legs leading up to…oh, this wasn’t the time or place to think about where those legs led. She contented herself with looking at Therese’s surprisingly full breasts constrained in her bra. Carol put her desires to walk over, wrap Therese up, and kiss her on hold with a warmth in her heart and regions further south.
She could see the effort Therese was putting into being thrilled with dresses and ensembles. How could she not be? Her figure was absolutely perfect for them. But over the past year, Carol had learned the nuances of Therese’s beautiful face and she was certain that Therese was struggling.
“Darling, you look divine in these clothes. I want to get them all for you and then show you off all over Milano.”
Therese’s eyes widened in panic. “Carol, you can’t do that. It’s too much. I wouldn’t feel right with you spending that much on me.”
“Even as a birthday present?”
“This whole trip is a birthday present and…and…I….”
“What is it, Therese? Please, tell me.” Just then the assistant walked in with another ensemble. Therese turned with slightly slumped shoulders to be fitted once again.
Carol tried to enliven a quiet Therese after their shopping by suggesting cappuccinos and any sweet Therese desired at Pasticceria Marchesi, Milano’s oldest bakery. They had already been there at their hotel concierge’s enthusiastic suggestion. Carol and Therese had been so delighted by his rapturous telling of the delights to expect that they had made it priority one on their sightseeing list; and it did not disappoint despite the upheaval they created.
“Oh Carol, do you see this? I can’t believe my own eyes and I’m right here. They have every pastry imaginable – most I’ve never heard or dreamed of. And they’re so beautiful! They’re like miniature works of art. I want to try them all, but I can’t bear to mutilate them.”
Carol wasn’t the only person in the bakery who enjoyed Therese’s childlike rapture. Some of the customers were stepping back as she walked along the glass cases and took in each new delight. The staff were following her along the back side pulling out delectables for her to see up close. Finally, the pâtissier came out of the kitchen after a staff member told him there was a special, and very beautiful customer who should have his attention. He took one look at Therese and brought both hands to his face in wonderment. He quickly walked around the cases to greet her.
“Signorina Hepburn, non posso dirti che onore e averti visitato il mio pasticceria. Tutti conoscono te e Signor Peck sono a Roma per fare il bellissimo film in movimento. Ma qui sei a Milano!”
Carol and Therese were completely flummoxed. Carol knew a bit of tourist Italian but not enough to keep up with the pâtissier. They had somehow taken over the Pasticceria and were definitely in the spotlight of everyone’s attention. Then the lightbulb went on for Carol. He had called Therese, Signorina Hepburn. They thought she was Audrey Hepburn. Damn, how was she supposed to wiggle out of this conundrum when neither of them spoke Italian. Should she blurt out the truth and embarrass everyone? Should she ask Therese to play along with the misperception so they could eventually ease out after giving everyone a memorable moment? She looked at Therese and saw that she hadn’t figured out the dilemma yet. Just then a young man came to Carol’s side.
“Excuse me, I’m an American studying Renaissance Art here in Milano for the year. I believe I may be able to help you with translation. I can see your beautiful friend is a dead ringer for Miss Hepburn but sadly, she is not Miss Hepburn. I’ll try to smooth this over for you both with the least embarrassment possible for everyone.”
Therese blanched and a look of complete mortification took over her face when she heard the young man’s comment to Carol. Then she blushed the beetest red Carol had ever seen.
“I’m so sorry darling but in a way it’s a lovely compliment to you.” Carol’s weak attempt to mollify Therese did nothing to ease her chagrin. She wanted to disappear, become invisible, crawl in a hole, anything to not be here now.
Carol and Therese listened as the young man spoke to the pâtissier while the rest of the staff and customers heard the sad news. They watched as the pâtissier’s face slowly realized his mistake and then his own chagrin at embarrassing a customer. Once again, he began to speak to Therese; this time profusely declaring apologies. He grabbed her hands in both of his and thumped them against his chest. Carol nor Therese needed to know Italian to understand the gist of what he was saying. Finally, the American gave them a synopsis.
“A thousand apologies…you are so beautiful…more than Signorina Hepburn…if she came through the doors right now you would be more beautiful…your beauty stands alone among all the women of Milano…all patisserie for all time will be free to you and your lovely companion.”
There was nothing to do but accept the patisserie’s gracious gift and respond with smiles and repeated “Grazies”.
“Carol, I don’t think I can go through that again. Let’s stop at the place close to our hotel and hope that I don’t transform into Audrey Hepburn.”
“That’s fine with me, darling. It is smaller and a bit out of the way but with the same heavenly patisseries.”
They rode in silence during the cab ride; each woman seemed intent on focusing on the passing city scene, both women stewing in their own mélange of concerns and worries. Just as they were arriving at their hotel, Carol reached across the seat and hooked Therese’s pinkie with hers. Therese squeezed Carol’s pinkie three times, the universal code for “I love you.”
They went through the rigors of trying to decide what to buy. “If you had told me a week ago my life would come to a complete standstill over these kinds of decisions, I would not have believed you.”
“I know, darling. I tried to tell you, but it is really impossible to convey the effect of these pastries on you until you see them in person. Let’s each get two and then we can have four to share. How does that sound?”
“Splendid.”
Carol hoped Therese’s enthusiasm would wipe away the gray cloud that had settled over them during the fitting. She watched as Therese was lost in the sensory experience of beauty and taste. They relaxed into faux fighting over who was eating more than their share of each delight. They were sweet sated and on their second cappuccino when Therese cut through their reverie.
“Do I embarrass you, Carol?”
Carol sat upright from her leaned back relaxation. She stared at Therese as if she had suddenly started speaking in Swahili.
“What? What are you talking about? Embarrass me? What? How?”
“I was wondering if I was a little too ‘shop girl’ in my appearance. Maybe that’s why you want to buy me these clothes.”
Shock and anger were fighting for the front row seat in Carol’s heart. She had been so thrilled to give Therese this trip and share another part of her life with her; now it was being twisted into some kind of manipulation. Whichever won out was a toss up that Carol didn’t know until she opened her mouth.
“Is that what you think of me? Do you think I’m living out some kind of Pygmalion fantasy?”
Carol’s outburst reminded her of the first-time money had become an issue for them. Thank goodness she had Abby to help make sense of that one.
“Hello? Earth to Carol? Are you even listening to the salacious details of my own personal ‘rendezvous’ after last night’s party at The Bag? Honestly, I try to expand your world and you’re lost in this fantasy you and Therese are playing out as if you can pull off the impossible. She’s young. She’s an orphan from fucking Queens. You’re old and you’re New York City old money.”
Abby paused. She looked closely at her friend from forever. She saw the worry etched just under the aristocratic surface of her friend’s face.
“Oh no, have I stepped in it again? I was just kidding about all that differences stuff and the fantasy. You two have something that the rest of us only dream about. I would give my right arm…make that my left arm, wouldn’t want to lose my ‘dominant’ hand…to have the dream you two are living.”
Abby hoped her leering reference would amuse Carol enough to fast lane her out of her doldrums. Instead, she heard Carol’s frustration spew out.
“Honestly Abigail, sometimes you have the intelligence quotient of a prurient pubescent middle school boy. I’m sitting here worrying myself into making a horrible mistake with Therese and you’re making jokes like she’s one of your one-off flings.”
Abby was insulted but she was more worried about her friend. The last time she had seen her in such a state she was in the throes of wresting herself from Harge’s clutches…the son of a bitch. Harge and ‘son of a bitch’ were forever paired in Abby’s mind. She couldn’t think of him without the addendum.
“Carol, sweetie, I’m sorry. Truly. Tell me what’s going on. I’m sure whatever it is it can be worked out. You two are too crazy in love to split. You’ve been one beating heart since practically the moment you met.”
Abby’s gentleness immediately wiped out her anger and brought back her worry. She needed help and Abby was the only one who could give it to her. She took a deep breath.
“Therese has made it very clear she wants to support herself by taking care of her personal needs and contributing to cost of living in our apartment.”
“I see. And she has no idea what it costs to live there, right?”
“Abby, one month’s rent is more than she makes in six months.”
“And she doesn’t know what the rent is?
“No.”
“And she doesn’t know you have a trust fund that gives you more each month than she makes in a year?”
“No.”
“And she doesn’t know that you’re getting alimony from Harge that you put into a trust fund for Rindy?”
“No.”
“And she doesn’t know how successful our exclusive furniture store is?”
“No.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of ‘nos’. So, what did you say?”
“I handled it horribly. I told her there was no need for her to contribute. I’d pay the same if she wasn’t with me so no need for her to spend her money on what was already paid for.”
Abby gritted her teeth and sucked in air. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. What happened next?”
“The crushed look on her face told me how badly I had screwed this up. I immediately began apologizing and she just as quickly tried to assure me that I hadn’t been an ass when we both knew I had. Abby, we both were terrified about this first obstacle that seemed so huge.”
“Yeah, you jumped in with both feet on this one. Most couples start with pet peeves about toothpaste caps or hose over the shower rod.”
“I know. We kept saying sorry to each other and then finally we panic fucked and went to sleep.”
Abby choked on the biscotti she had just dipped in her coffee. “Give a girl a head’s up when you’re going to start talking dirty, for crying out loud. Panic fucked? You know I’ve been all around the block, several times, and I’ve not heard that one. Do tell.”
Carol looked away and waved her off. She was not one for coarse language but sometimes if the shoe fit…
“I need help, Abby. I can’t help it if I come from money and Therese doesn’t, but will these differences eventually doom us? I can’t lose her again, Abby. I just can’t. I’m not sure I could survive it a second time.”
“Alright now, settle down. Give me a minute here.” Chin in hand, Abby pondered a moment. “Okay, how about this idea? Suggest to Therese that she figure out what percentage of her income she spent on her rent and food before she moved in with you then she can pay that percentage of her new Times salary and increase it as her salary does. It’s a place to start.”
Carol tapped her front teeth with a perfectly manicured fingernail and contemplated.
“You may be right. I mean, that makes sense and sounds equitable.”
Carol picked up tomato soup at her favorite deli and then went home to make grilled cheese sandwiches to be served with chips and sweet gherkin pickles…all of Therese’s favorites. She didn’t even consider suggesting they eat out tonight. The conversation they needed to have must be in a setting conducive to intimacy and vulnerability…that setting was their apartment.
Carol had the soup simmering and the sandwiches ready to grill the moment Therese arrived. She worked herself into a dither trying to figure out if tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches called for red or white wine. She decided to chill a white and a rose just in case. She paced around the apartment double checking herself in every mirror she passed. “You can do this. We can work this out. She loves you as much as you love her. It’ll be fine.” Then she heard Therese’s key in the door.
Carol regretted the Pygmalion barb the minute it left her mouth. Why did she immediately go on the attack? Life had been so sweet since they had worked out the whole finance fiasco. That evening and night had been so rich in all the things money cannot buy: understanding, trust, intimacy. They reentered their ridiculously idyllic, love saturated existence and feasted on only what each could give the other.
Now, during her grand birthday gesture, she had once again reacted badly. Therese looked like she had been slapped, a look that broke Carol’s heart. They were both scrambling on how to step back from this precipice that had appeared out of nowhere. Would they help each other or give in to fears that would topple them both over the edge and dash all those lovely dreams.
Therese looked down at the death grip of her two hands clinging to each other. She felt as if they were the only thing keeping her from flying apart. She looked up at Carol hoping to find a path back from the edge. She saw Carol’s beautiful profile set in stone. Then she saw the slight tremble of her chin.
“Carol, look at me. I need to see how your face transforms when you look at me.”
Carol’s posture wilted as she turned back to Therese with eyes starting to brim with tears.
“I’m so sorry, darling. I can’t believe I jumped on you like that. I was atrocious and thoughtless. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you too horribly. I can’t bear for things to not be right between us.”
“It did hurt but probably not any more than my ‘shop girl’ remark. I’m sorry too. I, well I can’t seem to get past this money difference thing.”
“This is my fault, darling. I went way over the top with this trip and fell into an old trap of using things to express feelings.” Carol lowered her voice and spoke with urgency. “Therese, you are my heart. I can’t imagine how I would live without you. I need to know things. I need you to tell me things. If that means things get tense or even ugly, though I know they won’t because we’re not ugly people, then so be it. I cannot and will not lose you, Therese Belivet.”
“Carol, we need to go back to our hotel.”
Carol handed Therese the room key to unlock their door. It was a simple gesture, but it felt right to give Therese a bit of control over their environment. Carol walked in first flipping off her shoes, tossing her handbag on a chair, and unbuttoning her jacket. Therese followed, watching her every move. When Carol turned around Therese was standing behind her, laser focused on her lover. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes. Carol inhaled a short, shocked gasp and with a cocked head said, “Therese?”
“I don’t care if we argue every day of our lives about money, I’m not living without you either.”
With that, Therese reached for Carol as Carol plunged into her embrace. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Shh…enough of that. We can talk later. Much later.”
Therese began finishing what Carol had started with unbuttoning her jacket. Off came the jacket, then Therese nuzzled Carol’s neck as she slowly drew down the long zipper in the back of Carol’s dress. Carol’s shiver told Therese she had made the right decision.
“But Therese, we need to talk.”
“I said, ‘shh…we can talk later’. And I meant it.” The hint of a giggle in her voice convinced Carol that Therese had certainly moved on to more important matters.
They undressed each other slowly, making sure that their lips were constantly in touch with some part of the other’s body. As they stood holding each other, pressing to have skin to skin, Carol gave Therese one last questioning look.
“If it’s not clear to you by now, Carol, I’m taking you to bed.”
Carol didn’t know whether to laugh in full joy or sob in gratitude for somehow, in all of this wicked world, finding Therese.
They made sweet, slow love using their bodies to say what inadequate words could not. They visited the core of their beings that were forever, inextricably linked. Their touches spoke of eternity. There would be many other times of love making for lust, fun, and sweetness…but this time was the sealing of a covenant.
Therese woke to see Carol’s head facing her on the pillow with a love goofy grin on her face.
“Darling, I have a crazy idea but please hear me out. What if we cancel those fashion orders, ditch Milano, catch a train to the coast and spend the rest of our trip in a lovely fishing village called Camogli? We could wear peasant blouses and capris and flip flop sandals. We could walk the shore, lie in the sun, and eat fish until we grow gills. What do you think?”
“I think…I love it! But let’s revisit that idea about canceling all those orders.”
“Why Miss Belivet, I do believe you’re going fashionista on me.”
Therese hopped out of bed and grabbed a hat and blanket. She set the hat at a jaunty angle and draped the blanket around her shoulders. The path to the bathroom became a fashion show runway and Therese walked an exaggerated model walk. She managed a few steps before she collapsed in giggles on the bed. Carol took advantage of Therese’s vulnerable state and pounced.
“Again?”
“Again and again.”
Camogli was everything they hoped for and more. They walked, they sunned, they ate, and made love comparing freckles and tan lines. Every meal ended with Therese holding her stomach and moaning, “No more. You weren’t kidding, I am going to grow gills.” Therese radiated contentment and nothing made Carol happier.
One morning Carol woke to the sound of a raucous avian choir. When Therese saw she was awake she propped herself up on an elbow and stroked Carol’s face.
“Carol, did you ever think about how every day, hour by hour, all around the world…”