Chapter 3
Carol opened her eyes slowly. She knew she wasn’t home but where she was wasn’t registering just yet in her sleepy haze. She may not have known where she was, but she knew who was sharing her bed. Therese’s body had become part and parcel of her own so quickly after she moved into Carol’s apartment. Maybe it was because it seemed they were never out of touch. Of course, early on there was all the versions of daily and nightly lovemaking. Sometimes, souls touching with the utmost tenderness, knowing they were in the fragile, vulnerable heart of the other; sometimes with a ferocity that was almost frightening if not for the safe love they knew was always surrounding them, and sometimes because it was just so damn much fun. They were secure under each other’s wing no matter how their bodies spoke – in a language they didn’t know they knew until they were blessed with proficiency.
But it wasn’t just that. They automatically, without thinking, reached out to each other whenever they were in proximity – a kiss on the back of the neck, a squeezed hand or shoulder, a caress of the face, a drape down the back, a silly grab of a bum – and if too much time had passed between reassurances, then one found the other waiting. Their radars pinged in sweet synchronicity.
“Marco.”
“Polo”, Therese giggled back. Carol turned over with open arms that Therese curled into immediately. “How did you sleep?”
“Darling, it’s the same answer every time you ask. Your body is my own personally prescribed Sominex pill. Whether through your body’s active ministrations or the assuredness of your presence, I sleep like I haven’t since I was a child. I wish I could bottle up your somnolence powers and sell them. We’d be rich. And you? How was your night?”
“Same. But enough about sleeping. What shall we do today, or do you already have something in mind? I don’t care as long it includes morning cappuccinos and croissants.”
Just then Therese’s stomach let out a grouchy gurgle of hunger.
“Well, that was loud and clear. It seems we need to get some food in you. Restaurant or room service?”
“Hmmm … restaurant. I don’t want to miss any of Milano while we’re here. I’ll quick shower and be ready in a jiff. I need to wash off last night’s exertions.”
Therese hopped out of bed with that last remark and sashayed her naked body to their bathroom. Just before reaching the door, she gave Carol an over the shoulder wink.
“You better stop that behavior, or you’ll be having more ‘exertions’ to scrub off that gorgeous body of yours.”
Therese giggled again and hot footed it into the bathroom. Carol stared at the empty doorway and wondered if she could be happier. Maybe she could. She had willingly taken what Therese had given her last night. Did that mean she also needed a shower? Me thinks so.
Carol walked toward the bathroom dropping off what few night clothes she had left. Therese was already obliviously enjoying the warm spray of water when Carol opened the shower door.
“Darling, I think I need to freshen up too.”
Therese turned with a brief startle jump. Her wide eyes quickly turned into a fiendish grin and a nod of approval. They had given up on shower sex long ago. One or the other was out of the water’s warmth and chilly, neither one was sure of their footing, and neither of them could climax standing up. No, their showers were hugs and shared scrubbing peppered with long kisses to all the accessible places. The fact that the showers often led back to bed was not a problem for either one.
When they finally made it to the nearby café, Therese made good on her serious intentions of cappuccinos and croissants and a few more bite size temptations. Carol watched over the rim of her coffee cup and wondered at Therese’s metabolism.
“I never looked like that.”
“Like what?”
“You and your miraculous body.”
Therese gave Carol a quizzical squint and whispered, “Why are you bringing up our ‘private’ talk here – out in public?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m talking about how you can eat like a horse and never gain an ounce. I would say it’s youth, but I think this is how it’s always going to be for you.”
“Look who’s talking. That statuesque frame of yours draws stares 100% of the time when we’re out. Thank goodness I’m not the jealous type.”
Carol watched with an arched eyebrow until Therese broke her own smugness with a giggle. “I’m not … I’m just …”
“Protective, territorial, possessive, vigilant, staking your claim, planting your flag? Hmm?”
“Well, who can blame me? Some of those women at Abby’s parties act like we’re not – you know – committed to each other. They flirt with you and try to box me out or dismiss me like I’m some kind of temporary fling and not to be taken seriously. It’s all I can do sometimes to not give them a high heel to their instep. You’re mine, dammit. They need to act like it.”
Carol looked at Therese’s scowl in surprise. “Darling, you don’t think for a moment that they’re a threat, do you? They’re just so much buzzing noise to me. I have to remind myself to not be rude and leave them to find you while they’re still talking.”
Carol looked around the crowded café to see that everyone was occupied in their own conversations then she gave Therese’s foot a little nudge followed by a brief swipe up her calf.
“Therese, we have enough challenges in this life. Let’s don’t add unnecessary ones.”
Therese did her own survey of the café and leaned into whisper, “I know you’re right. Besides, who shares your bed every night and gets to start every day with you? Who is the only one who knows your body and has all of its riches plotted out like a treasure map? Who is the only one who gets to hear the sounds that drive me crazy? Who is…”
“Therese, you have to stop or else I’ll be calling Luka to cancel the day I have planned for us.”
Therese crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “As long as I’ve made my point.”
“Oh, it’s been made and verified.” Carol drew in a deep breath, “Now, do want to hear what I have in mind for today?”
Therese clapped her steepled hands in front of her smiling face. “Yes!”
“Here I am and on time. Americans put such value on the, eh how you say, punctual? Even on the vacation, so much looking at the watch. But today we will slow down and take our time, yes? We must live the Italian life today. We walk, we look, we taste, we sit, it’s all good if we don’t rush. Today, I’m so happy to show my beautiful Milano to two beautiful signorinas. I am Luka and I am yours for the whole day.”
With that rush of words, the handsome young man took first Carol’s hand, then Therese’s, and brushed them with a kiss.
“Now then, do you have an agenda, as you Americans say, or are you going to give yourself to me and trust my instincts on what beautiful signorinas want?”
It could have sounded a tad lewd, but Luka was so young and enthusiastic and charming that Carol and Therese smiled at his impish teasing and said in unison, “We’re yours.”
“Mi rendi cosi felice. So happy. You will not regret this, signoras. We are going to have a wonderful day of the senses. You will taste and feel and see the beauty everywhere in my Milano. But first, do you prefer the car or the walking? In Milano, no hills. It is flat. Everyone goes to Rome and Tuscany and Pompei, which they must, but Dio mio, the hills. Up and down you go all the day.”
Luka shook his head in sorrow as if visiting the rest of Italy was a punishment. Carol chuckled at his theatrics and assured him they wanted to see Milano from the street. His face lit up with their cooperation.
Carol and Therese barely made it to their bed before collapsing in a heap. The day had been so much more than they expected.
“I don’t think I could eat one more bite.”
“I don’t think I could take one more step.”
Groans of weariness and gluttony overdone to misery echoed through the room along with repeated, “Why did I agree to – “, fill in with the name of one more church or castle or garden along with the name of one more pastry or gelato. They lay in miserable contentedness until they drifted off into an unexpected nap.
“Therese darling, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
Carol gently shook Therese’s shoulder to stop the slight thrashing and garbled words of distress. This had never happened before, and Carol wasn’t sure what to do. She stroked Therese’s face and kept murmuring reassurances to rouse her from the nightmare. When Therese finally opened her eyes, they were full of fear and confusion. She jerked her head around looking at the details of their room for something familiar to ground her to the here and now. Her worried eyes made their way back to Carol’s face.
“Darling, what is it? You look terrified.”
The disembodied voices and the ghoulish images began to fade from Therese’s mind. She felt Carol’s comforting solidity bring her back to their reality. She shook her head and shuddered slightly.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a crazy dream for some reason. You know how you dream silly things during an afternoon nap. I’m okay, really. I think we need to take a stroll in that lovely park just down the street. That will help us stretch out our muscles that stiffened up while we slept.”
Therese popped up and out of bed to punctuate the end of the discussion. Carol hesitantly agreed with a wary look. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was certain Therese wasn’t being completely honest with her.
The rest of the evening Carol felt a thin veil drop between them. All during dinner, and afterwards as they strolled around the Piazza del Duomo, Therese was presenting a pleasant façade, but she was slowly going out of focus leaving Carol with nothing to grasp for certainty.
“Oh, look darling. The cathedral is having a rare nighttime opening. There was so much to take in this afternoon, would you like to look around again?”
“No! I mean, no I think I couldn’t take in another painting or column or arch if I tried. My brain is saturated.” Therese finished with a forced chuckle as she deliberately turned her back on the church and began walking away as if being pursued.
When they arrived back at the hotel Carol suggested a nightcap at the bar. This was a routine of theirs for flirting that set the mood for how the rest of their night would play out. Therese demurred with an excuse of exhaustion that served as an indication that tonight would just be for sleeping. Therese stood a step away from Carol, fidgeting with her purse while waiting on the lift, leaving Carol lost with this new awkwardness between them. No one else watching would have noticed, but Carol and Therese were so finely tuned to each other that even the slightest variation in their atmosphere felt like the jolt of a clanging bell. They entered the lift alone and as the tiny cubicle began its slow ascent, Therese eased into Carol’s side. Carol took her hand and gave her the three-squeeze assurance.
They went through their getting ready for bed routine quietly without any of the playful lewdness or sweet flirtations, depending on the mood, that had been on hold while they were in public. They were polite and deferential as two pleasant roommates – and they were both lost in their individual questions.
Therese crawled into bed and nestled into Carol’s welcoming embrace. They lay quietly until Therese raised her head and queried.
“Carol, were you raised in the church? I mean, did your family go to church?”
“Um, wow, talk about out of left field. Well, yes, we went, not every Sunday, but for sure at Christmas and Easter. We attended more when I was very young but once Dad bought a boat and then the lake house our weekends were booked. Why are you asking? What is this about?”
“Oh, nothing really. Going into all these churches with the statues and pictures of the saints and martyrs I hadn’t thought about for years just made me wonder.”
Carol knew there was more to this question but had no idea where to start. She was stymied in trying to approach the dilemma when Therese abruptly gave her a quick peck on the check and turned over with a “Good night, my love.”
Therese lay quietly feigning drifting off to sleep until she heard the familiar sounds of Carol’s deep slumber. Their bed, always the safest respite of their days, now felt like a treacherous trap with unsuspected punishment for anyone seeking shelter or comfort in its confines. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling as if there could be answers hidden in its ornate scrolls and painted scenes.
Maybe it was the paintings of the female martyrs in San Maurizio al Monastero Maggiore. Their guide had told them story after story of the women who suffered torture before dying for their faith. Their angelic, upward turned faces waiting for deliverance into heaven, while holding a platter bearing the body parts that had been brutally severed or gouged from their bodies, confirmed their holiness and devotion to the Virgin Mary. One after another, Therese felt like the paintings and stories would never stop, and with each one a cloud of foreboding came closer to making itself known.
Maybe it was the life size statue of the skin flayed Saint Bartholomew by the altar in the Duomo di Milano that demanded her attention. It was hard to turn away from the intricately exposed muscles and bones with saint’s own skin draped down his back. The macabre pain was revolting and mesmerizing at the same time. And with each look Therese felt herself slipping away from Carol.
The lights from the street cafes flickered through the curtains as the barest of breezes created amorphous images on the walls and ceilings. Gone were the idyllic scenes of a long-ago signorina and signor in corteggia with rolling vineyards in the background. Gone were the chubby cherubs draped in silky ribbons cavorting in the ceiling’s heavenly corners. Now, instead of the essence of bucolic life in Italy, the martyrs and saints hovered over her, excruciating in their judgement of her. How dare she lie in a bed of carnal comfort when they had suffered so for the faith. How dare she cavalierly choose to flaunt God’s plan so clearly shown in the Garden of Eden.
As Therese’s mind roiled with these images, the nuns from the orphanage of her childhood began arriving. They gathered around the bed looking down with piercing eyes full of judgement and disdain. The undertow of accumulated teachings based in a pernicious gospel began to pull her even further away from Carol and all that was good in her life. She frantically looked for the one sister who had been kind to her during her years at the home. She caught a glimpse of Sister Alicia trying to break through the cadre of swirling black robes chanting condemnations, but her kindness was feather light in the face of their censorious onslaught of shame.
Therese slipped out of bed and grabbed the first clothes she could find. She dressed in the dark and slipped out the door of their suite with fingers crossed that the final click was soft enough to not disturb Carol. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she had to get out of that bed and away from the torment. Maybe a brief walk would break the crested wave of guilt that was chasing her, threatening to crash over her and drown out any possibility of her love for Carol.
When she was a child, Sister Alicia had been enough to counteract the strict, rule ridden nuns who should never have been assigned to work with children. They watched over their charges as if any infraction was a deliberate flaunt in God’s face. It seemed as if the harsher the punishment they meted out the higher their marks in God’s great record keeping book. Therese left the home at 18 with Sister Alicia’s warm blessing and the belief that “out of sight, out of mind” would be sufficient. The caustic aura that surrounded every interaction with the other nuns and left her feeling rubbed raw was over. She no longer had to modulate every word she said and every action she took to fit into the holy strictures of life at the orphanage. Life was now hers to explore and live as she had dreamed.
During all of her time with Carol, from the rapturous beginning, through the agony of their separation, to the loving life they had carved out for themselves, she had never questioned its morality or normality. She knew the rest of the world had hypocritical opinions and pronouncements to share but that never phased her. They loved each other. It was that simple. And it was enough. So why now? Why was she being flooded with hauntings from a world she never believed to be true or honest?
Therese wandered the streets around their hotel in the wee hours that were the domain of the food markets and bakeries. The grocers and bakers gave her curious smiles and “Ciao, Bella” greetings as they went through their early morning routines to prepare for their eventual customers. She realized she had entered a private world that few got to experience. She watched as flowers, produce, and fresh fish were delivered, and as bakers began baking the overnight risen loaves and assorted other breads. Her brain scrambled to sort out the flood of scents and odors drifting up and down the street. First it was lilies, then the tang of citrus, followed by the pungent smell of fish. The baking ovens were firing up and releasing the aroma of thousands of loaves baked through the decades. Therese took a deep breath to saturate herself in the homeliness that only freshly baked bread can deliver. The sights of the men going through their routines that defined their lives and supported the traditions of a city grounded her in the here and now. The ghouls and hateful whispers were fading in the bustle of the street scene. She settled onto the steps of a small church across the street and lost herself in the conversations she couldn’t understand. Eventually a white flour dusty baker came over with a cup of espresso. He approached her as she imagined a kindly uncle would and she gladly took the coffee that was much too strong for her.
She sat taking tiny sips of the coffee, enjoying the pleasure of a serendipitous interlude, when just off to her left, she saw the familiar swaying of black habits topped by white coifs framing the faces of a superfluity of nuns. The sight shocked her as if she was in a horror movie and the feared fiend had appeared. She instinctively jumped up and moved to brace herself against the stair’s stone balustrade. The nuns, without any attention paid to her, climbed the stairs, and entered the church. Therese watched, waiting for the last of them to be gone, but one lingered, then turned and smiled at her. She hesitated before walking toward Therese. Her face had the gentleness and kind eyes of Sister Alicia. She was ageless with beauty that came from a soul at peace.
“Scusami. Sei Americano, no?”
Therese stood stunned for a moment and then stammered out, “Yes, but how do you know that?”
“It’s hard to say, but you have the look…and only an Americano girl would be out at this time of the night. Were you waiting to come into the church? Do you wish to speak to the priest?”
“No! I mean, no sister, I was just sitting here watching the shopkeepers across the street.”
“And this is so fascinating to you that you are out of your bed at,” the sister looked at her watch, “3:30 in the morning?”
Therese watched and listened carefully for any hint of criticism, but she saw only humor and goodwill. Suddenly, the spirit of Sister Alicia overtook her, and she felt as if she were back in the loving presence of the only warmth she had known during her long cold childhood. But no words broke through the fearful chill that filled her chest and strangled her throat.
The nun turned at looked at the church door. Her face revealed the decisions she was debating and then made. She turned back to Therese and held out her hand.
“I’m Sister Aloysius. Do you think you could share that espresso with me? Even nuns sometimes need a little help to keep the mind awake during early prayers.”
Therese looked at the sister’s hand and then her cup of coffee. She handed it to her, and they both sat down without needing to concur on the idea. They sat quietly for a while then Sister Aloysius broke the silence.
“People often ask how we can keep the hours we do. We start every morning with four am prayers and then after breakfast we go about our duties. It’s a long day but I never have to worry about falling asleep at night. I see you’ve discovered the special serenity of this time. One is able to think, really think, without the clutter of the past or the worries of today or the future.”
Therese watched the sister in her musings. Without waiting to caution herself she said, “I was definitely being harassed by the clutter of the past last night. I, I don’t live according to the church’s teachings and being here, surrounded by churches, and martyrs, and saints, everywhere, has stirred something I don’t understand. I wouldn’t change my life for anything. It’s as wonderful as I could ever hope for, and I don’t believe I’m wrong in loving…”. Therese stopped. Who did she think she was talking to? She couldn’t go blabbing about Carol and expect understanding or approval by this nun. She might be kind, but sin is sin for her. No wiggle room there.
Sister Aloysius’ kind smile spoke of someone who had held the hands of the bereaved and sat with the dying without ever providing pat answers for the pain. She had the smile of someone who knew how to celebrate the joys of life without letting the inevitable sorrows interfere with the immediate happiness. Therese knew, somehow she knew, Sister Aloysius would not condemn.
“I love a woman and she loves me. I have never hesitated in how right it is for us to be together. I have never considered any outside judgement until coming here and being overwhelmed with the old teachings from my childhood. Suddenly, the saints and martyrs and the nuns of my past are haunting me with threats of condemnation and hell. I don’t believe any of it, but I can’t stop the thoughts from intruding. There was a time when we had to be apart, and I thought it would kill me. I’m never giving her up, but I have to do something with these specters of hateful torment.”
Therese was surprised that she didn’t feel like she had shared too much. It was more than trusting the nun to keep her confidence. She knew it was about being sure of the rightness of her love for Carol. Sister Aloysius sat nodding her head then sat down the coffee cup and joined her hands as if she was going to pray. Therese almost expected her to bow her head but instead, the nun looked at her own hands, holding each other in tenderness, and began talking.
“When I was a young girl in my village I fell in love with a beautiful girl and she with me. We were besotted with the ardor of our secret romance and spent every moment we could together. In those days there was no dating, so boys and girls socialized in groups under the watchful eyes of their parents. Two girls going off to swim in the creek or pick wild berries or read and nap in the countryside was not noticed or questioned. We were chaste in the beginning, but it wasn’t long before the natural yearning for more played out naturally and we discovered more ways to say, ‘I love you’. She was so beautiful. Her skin was olive and ripened in the sun to burnished bronze. She would take the pins out of her hair and the long, soft ebony curls would curtain me in kisses. Her fingers were long and slender with the gentlest touch I’ve ever known. I was completely at peace and simmering with anticipation all the time I was with her.”
Therese held her breath as Sister Aloysius stopped, looking away to see the two lovers thrilling to touches and kisses on a blanket in the sun dappled privacy of the countryside. She returned and looked at Therese.
“Even though we didn’t believe, and I would never believe, that we were sinning in the most horrid and unspeakable of ways, we knew to keep our love between just the two of us. I have heard people support their love outside the boundaries by saying if God disapproves then they don’t want anything to do with that God. That wasn’t our answer. We believed our love was a divine gift, from the purest of God’s intentions, so no matter how others twisted it to use for condemnation rather than embracing another gift from God, we were certain and sure of God’s charity.
“I don’t know what we thought our future would be. We lived in the fervor of the moment. We got our answer when she fell from her horse and died instantly from a broken neck.”
Therese gasped involuntarily and Sister Aloysius looked at her with the saddest smile she had ever seen. Without thinking Therese laid her hand on the sister’s.
“I knew I would never love a man, nor would I ever find another Teresa, so I chose to take the love God gave me and return it to His service. I keep her with me constantly. She helps me through the long days, and she lays with me at night. I still love her so and I know she loves me. I’ve called on her many times to help me with comforting the afflicted and sharing wisdom with the conflicted. She’s the reason I came to sit by you tonight. I can even believe she’s the reason you came here tonight, to this specific church. Those of us who have been blessed with love outside the boundaries need to stick together. Don’t you think so?”
Therese nodded slowly as tears began to trickle out of her stunned eyes. She felt suspended in the grace this woman was offering her. She leaned her head over and brushed Sister Aloysius’ hands with a kiss. They both stood and silently turned to go back to their lives. Sister Aloysius gave a slight nod and brought both of her hands to her heart when Therese said, “Thank you.” The sister climbed the steps and entered the church. Therese walked down the steps and back to Carol.
It was still dark when Therese slipped back into their suite. Therese took her clothes off and carefully crawled into bed with a sleeping Carol. Therese didn’t want to rouse her, but she needed to be in touch. She ever so gently laid her head on Carol’s shoulder and her leg over Carol’s hips. She reached over and took her hand to bring them joined onto Carol’s chest. Therese let out a deep sigh when Carol instinctively wrapped her arms around her.
Still mostly asleep and hazy, Carol muttered, “Where did you go?”
Therese tried to buy time with, “What do you mean?”
Still groggy, Carol mumbled with a pout, “Yesterday, you left me.”
Therese knew exactly what Carol was asking but she wasn’t ready to give voice to the terror just yet. She felt like she had returned from a journey into the heart of darkness, and she needed time to revel again in the light of Carol’s love. She needed to be ensconced in strong arms and smothered with breathtaking kisses. She needed Carol’s hands everywhere, making anywhere she touched a marvel of passion. She needed to be flung out to the extremities of their love knowing Carol would always be there with her.
Someday, soon, she would tell Carol of the street she visited and the serendipity of Sister Aloysius. She would tell Carol of another Teresa’s story and the possibility of divine intervention in the wee hours of a Milano morning. She would tell Carol of the time when she knew for certain that their love was eternal and blessed. But, for now, lying in Carol’s arms listening once again to the Milanese Aviary Choir was enough.
“I’ll tell you later, my love. I’m here now and this is where I’ll stay.”