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It doesn’t take a genius to tell that Therese is in a bad mood when she stomps in through the door, so Carol’s voice is soft even though she’s a little later than Carol expected, much to Carol’s anxiety. “Hello, dearest.”
“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late.” She comes over to her and gives her a quick peck on the mouth, Carol marveling at how easily and simply she does it, and sits down, sinking into the sofa.
Carol sets down the plate with their dinner on the table. “How was work?”
“Terrible.” Carol waits, but Therese doesn’t elaborate, so she goes over to her and tangles her fingers in her soft brown locks the way she knows Therese likes. Therese will share with her when she wants to, one of the things Carol has learned about her over the past few months. She’s more outspoken now than she was when they went on that fateful road trip, but she’s still far from vocal, and Carol loves her rich inner life, so she doesn’t always push.
Therese doesn’t melt into her hands the way she usually does, but she doesn’t move away either, and Carol tries again, “Dinner? I made your favorite.”
“OK.”
It’s not often quiet in the apartment on Madison Avenue. Not because either Therese or Carol is particularly talkative. But usually, the silence is comfortable, and there are small sounds too, the sound of Therese sighing in happiness as she eats the meal Carol usually cooks, or the sound of Carol chuckling softly at Therese’s happiness. But it’s dead silent today, only the clink of silverware on plate interrupting the uneasy silence that’s settled over the two of them like a thick blanket.
“I saw someone who reminded me of you today,” Carol tries, taking a sip from her cup.
“Oh?”
“She came in trying to sell me the most interesting piece.” Carol’s eyes twinkle, but Therese doesn’t seem like she sees her.
“What was it?”
“It was this ugly emerald green loveseat that was covered with black stripes and polka dots.”
“Together?”
Carol chuckles, “Yes. Astonishing, isn’t it?” Therese only hums in response and Carol gently lays down her fork. “Therese, is everything alright?”
Therese looks up into her eyes and sets down her own fork. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You seem… Distracted.”
Therese scoffs, “I’m fine, Carol.”
Carol diverts her eyes for a moment, letting a small silence travel over them, before taking a sip from her cup again. Swallowing, she tries to be as gentle as she can, “You know you can talk to me if you want, right?”
Therese seems to look through her, a terrifying sensation, before she lays down her fork and stands up. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“But you haven’t even touched–”
Therese interrupts her, “Don’t, Carol. You’re not my mom.”
Carol sits back in shock, her eyes widening. “Therese, I didn’t–”
“Yes, well, I can take care of myself.”
She tries again, “Darling, I don’t want to fi–”
Therese groans in frustration, and Carol is even more unsettled as she runs her hand through her hair, “You’re so difficult to be around sometimes, you know?”
Carol shoves down the growing annoyance at Therese’s inability to talk to her and stands up, reaching out for Therese, only for her to step away from her touch. Something like ice fills her heart, and she steadies her voice, “You’re being unfair, Therese.”
“I’m not being unfair. I just need…” She trails off, aggressively running her hands through her hair again.
“Yes?” Carol prompts, after Therese remains silent for too long, their dinner long since forgotten on the table.
“I- I- I need space.” Therese blurts, her olive green eyes filled with confusion and frustration and, to Carol’s complete horror, anger. “I just need space to think.”
Carol sits back down and picks up her fork, her hand steady but her heart beating so hard she thinks Therese could hear it. “Of course,” she says quietly. “I’ll go out for a walk. Go to Abby's, if you want the night to yourself.” She blinks quickly and keeps her eyes trained on her plate, too taken aback to think about what she’s eating.
Therese seems like she’s about to leave, when she turns back around in a fury and turns on Carol. “No, you know what? I don’t need space. I need you to actually talk to me.”
Carol looks up, her confusion only growing at the anger in Therese’s eyes. “I don’t understand–”
“That’s the problem, Carol. You don’t understand. You,” Therese gestures at the dinner and at her, freezing in her place, scared to even move at this new Therese, “All you do is sit there telling me you love me and then...”
She takes a deep breath, “You sit there, when I’m being unfair, when I’m being cruel,” her voice twists on that word, “and all you do is take it.” She scoffs. “I mean, for God’s sake, Carol, I just told you I wanted space and what did you say? That you’ll go for a walk. This is your apartment, damn it, and you’re exiling yourself because I said I needed space?”
Carol lays her fork down delicately and wipes her mouth before drawing herself to her full height and asking, very calmly, very quietly, “You’re angry because I tried to give you space?”
Therese’s face is flushed, “No!”
“You’re angry because I call you ‘dearest’?”
“No, Carol, you’re missing the point.”
Carol spreads her hands, controlling the cold anger that threatens in her veins, “Then what is the point, Therese?”
“The point is you don’t treat me like your equal!” Therese’s voice is nearly shouting now, “You treat me like I’m a frightened animal sometimes and other times you treat me like I’m made of glass.”
Carol’s voice is hard as flint when she speaks, “You’re angry because I try to satisfy all of your wants?”
Therese flinches. “No. That’s not what I meant.”
Carol turns around and picks up the plates that they weren’t eating from anymore anyway, “I think we need to calm down before we talk anymore, Therese. I don’t think anything productive is going to come out of this conversation.”
She’s turning to go to the kitchen when she feels a hand catch her wrist. “Let go of me, please.”
“Carol, don’t run from the conversation.”
She shakes off her hand, not looking back as she retorts, “When you’re capable of having a conversation, we’ll talk about it.” She walks over to the sink and puts the plates in it.
Therese hasn’t moved, but when she speaks, looking at nothing in particular, she sounds haunted. “Do you trust me, Carol?”
Carol sighs, “Of course I do.”
Therese turns towards her now, her gaze steely, “Then why are you so afraid?”
“I’m not.”
Therese steps closer to her, her eyes never leaving Carol’s, so piercing that Carol is suddenly hit with a wave of weariness. It’s as though they will never get past this question. Do you trust me?
“Carol, I’m not going anywhere.” Therese sounds as though she’s traded her anger for sincerity and Carol is confused by the sudden turn of events just as much as she is confused by the way Therese steps closer to her. “I’m not going to leave.”
Carol swallows down the lump in her throat and nods. “I know.”
“Do you really?”
She’s about to answer that of course she knows that and of course she’s not afraid. But does she? She thinks back to how she’s terrified of Therese arriving late to anywhere, how she’s horrified at the idea of getting into a fight, how she’s anxious about waking up with no Therese even though it should be the other way around, how she never raises her voice with Therese, never challenges her, swallows all of her thoughts and feelings about anything that might make Therese displeased.
Oh, she realizes. Oh.
She leans back against the kitchen counter, gripping the counter so hard her knuckles turn white, letting out a dry laugh that turns more into a strangled sob. “I suppose not.”
Therese is so close that Carol can feel her body warmth radiating off of her but she doesn’t touch Carol, as though purposefully maintaining a distance between them. “How can I prove to you, Carol, that I’m not leaving? How can I convince you that I’ve moved on?” Her voice is quiet but urgent.
Carol suddenly realizes that she is closer than ever to really losing Therese despite all that she’s done, because she can’t really believe that Therese has forgiven her, can’t bring herself to hope that Therese is really here. She doesn’t see Therese’s face in front of her anymore, her olive green eyes reproachful yet sincere. She can only see her trembling fingers, bringing them to her face because the thought of Therese leaving her is suddenly too much to bear, too much to bear the idea that the apartment on Madison Avenue will once again be silent and dark. No Rindy, no Therese. No Therese.
The thought makes her heart start pounding, and suddenly she’s sinking down on the floor, her breathing so quick she thinks she might throw up. She’s going to lose Therese, she's going to lose her. She sees nothing through trembling fingers, she's seen nothing these past few months of bliss, and she’s going to lose her because she can’t get over it. She wasn’t even the one who was left behind, yet she can’t get over it. Why can’t she get over it?
She doesn’t hear Therese’s frightened “Carol?” She doesn’t see Therese kneeling down next to her, her face suddenly pale and tight with worry and concern and fear, doesn’t see anything at all except her trembling fingers and the sudden knowledge that, of course, of course Therese is going to leave her, because what goes around comes around, and when has anything good ever lasted with Carol?
She thinks back to Rindy, her sweet eyes peering up at her, wondering why she didn’t get to see mommy often anymore. She thinks back to Abby, so young and innocent, the way she looked almost broken when Carol had told her gently that she wasn’t able to love her the way she deserves to be loved. She thinks back to even Harge, the way that they were sweet and happy for a little while, but then one day things weren’t happy anymore, and suddenly she was suffocated by his presence. No, nothing good ever lasts when it comes to Carol.
She can’t breathe, can’t think straight. She can’t lose Therese. Not after losing Rindy. Not after getting her back. She can’t. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to recover. She’s not that strong, and she’s tired. So tired. So weary from all that’s happened in the past year. The psychotherapists, the tomato aspic lunches, the fights with the lawyers, the yearning to see Rindy, the yearning for Therese. She can’t lose Therese.
She won’t. Not because of something as stupid as her own inability to get over herself. Not Therese. Not sweet, good Therese, who is so frustrated with her that she picks a fight for no reason but even then is so sweet and kind and good. All Therese is thinking about is Carol and Carol’s happiness. Therese, so innocent as she looked up into Carol's eyes when Carol had offered her an apartment key and a nervous promise that she didn't have to do anything with it until she was ready. Therese had accepted the key and the promise, not even a week after Carol went back to her. Therese, who says sorry for being late even though she has no control over New York traffic and leaves notes on the bed when she needs to get up and leave before Carol because she knows Carol is anxious.
No. She won't lose Therese. Not over her inability to move on. Good things don't last with Carol, but Therese has told her again and again, in the quiet of the night when the two of them are pressed up closer than Carol had ever thought possible, that this is the best thing to happen to her, and Carol will be damned if she takes away anything good from Therese again. Carol may not deserve good things, but Therese deserves all the good in the world, and by some miracle she thinks Carol is good.
If Therese thinks they can last, Carol can think they can last. If Therese thinks they are good for one another, Carol will not be a coward because she has a warped sense of self-punishment.
Suddenly she feels the strong, warm hands rubbing circles into her back.
“Carol?” Therese’s voice is terrified, too fast, out of breath as though she has just been punched in the stomach, “Carol? Carol, my love, my Carol, please, please, you’re scaring me. Please, breathe. Breathe. We don’t have to talk about this now. We can leave this here. We can talk about something else. Please Carol. Breathe, love. Breathe. Deep breaths. Come on now, love. Deep breaths.”
And slowly, Carol regains the ability to think, to pull herself out of the spiral she was falling into, and regains the ability to breath and feel. She’s too aware that they’re on the ground, Therese kneeling next to her and her own arms wrapped around her legs, and suddenly wants to laugh at the absurdity, the indignity. She wants to feel embarrassed at the way she’s reacted at a fight, wants to tell Therese that she’s fine because Therese is already angry at her for not moving on and what does this tell her except that she is more afraid than either of them thought? But she doesn’t. She just sits there and lets Therese wrap her into her arms, murmuring soft, comforting words into her hair and drawing patterns on her skin.
When she speaks, her voice is rough, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Her breath hitches only once, muffled by Therese’s shirt.
She feels Therese shake her head, “No. No. I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks, and Carol pulls away from her embrace just in time to catch a tear rolling down Therese’s cheek. “I should have brought this up in a better way. I’m so sorry, Carol. I just- I was thinking about this when we had a stupid workplace relationship seminar at work today, and it just hit me that–” Her breath catches and she stops, tears flowing freely down her face now.
Carol reaches out to wipe away her tears, “Don’t cry, angel. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I’m hysterical.” Just like the psychotherapist said.
Therese shakes her head again, her eyes agonized. “It- It hit me that you were too giving. That- that you didn’t take anything for yourself. And they said that wasn’t healthy. And I was- I was afraid that-” she sniffles, and breaks off. “So I came home and I was brash and angry and cruel. I could have told you in so many different ways, but instead I got angry at you for being too good to me. I'm so sorry, Carol.” She sniffles again, and Carol has to suppress a smile at how adorable she is. “And you’re not hysterical. I don't care what they say."
“But you’re right, you know.” Carol’s voice is quiet. “I am afraid,” she entwines their fingers together as she speaks, “I’m terrified of losing you. I haven’t forgiven myself for what I did to hurt you. And I’m scared that you’ll disappear because frankly,” she looks up into the green eyes that she worships, “frankly, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since Rindy, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost both of you.”
Therese doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “How can I help you? Let me show you how much I love you. Let me convince you to forgive yourself, convince you that I am here to stay.” She brings their hands up to her lips and presses a kiss to Carol’s finger, her eyes still filled with tears yet so clear and determined.
Carol looks down at their hands, the balloon of love growing in her chest until she thinks she might burst from it, and shakes her head slowly. “Angel, you’ve done all you can. I just… I need time.” She chances a glance at Therese, who is still watching her with concern, still watching her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, “I just need time to get over what I did to you. What I did,” she clears her throat, suddenly unable to continue, “to us.”
Therese lets go of her hand and moves so that she’s straddling Carol on the floor, cupping her face in her hands. “I will give you all the time you need, do you hear me? I will be here. I am not going anywhere.”
Carol wraps her arms around her slim figure and pulls her closer. “Remind me, then, when you think I’m being too cautious. Tell me.”
Therese nods and kisses her forehead lightly, and Carol suddenly feels like a child again, but this time protected and loved, “I will.”
Carol pulls her down and kisses her. “I love you,” she mumbles against Therese’s lips.
Therese breaks apart their kiss long enough to tell her: “I love you too.”
And Carol doesn’t know where the future will lead, what they will become, but as she sits on the cold kitchen floor, her Therese straddling her and kissing her until she’s breathless, she thinks that she can face all the uncertainties, because Therese is here. Therese is right here, right next to her.