Chapter Text
Therese woke up that morning with an intense headache, a hangover from last night where she drank a lot of beers, beyond she could take. She could feel her blood flowing through her ears and eyelids, an irritating pulse on her temples. She surely regretted going to that party at her friend's place and exaggerating with her actions but she didn't regret the reason why she went there.
With a heavy sigh she jumped out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom where she took a shower, certifying herself to wash the makeup off her face carefully, not wanting to dirty her light blue towel with the mascara; she looked herself in the mirror and, Jesus, the woman she met the day before was absolutely right, she had changed. Clenching her jaw, furiously, she let her eyes wander all over her own body, noticing some bruises on her pale neck. "Fuck"
"Genevieve", she thought.
The woman she met, Phil's friend, whom she had sex and didn't even remember until that moment.Therese felt a little nauseous and rubbed the mirror to get the steam out of her sight watching her own figure reflected in it, with wide eyes, full of other marks on her body.
"Oh, my God", her heart raced. She had a lot of physical proofs from the night of, apparently, rough sex she had with a complete stranger that her mind couldn't even recall properly. "What would Carol think of this?", she thought, feeling guilty and dirty, as if out of a sudden, the blonde would find out what she did last night. Therese got a little disappointed catching herself thinking about Carol again because everything she did was trying not to think of the woman she loved. A distraction for the painful decision she made for the both of them.
Too startled with the finding, she just dressed up as quickly as possible and ran out of the bathroom; she made her bed and took her clothes to the little basket in the end of the small hall between her bedroom and the kitchen. Her green, tired eyes wandered over the tiny calendar she had pinned to the kitchen wall, next to the yellow old fridge: it was her day off, thank God. She was happy not having to work today and, at the same time, desolate. Her consciousness would never, ever, let her sleep. Or watch TV. Or listen to the radio. Or eat. Or live. Her whole body was aching, and so was her head. She felt too dizzy and tired to think straight but she knew that once the hangover has passed, she would be bombed with millions of thoughts about Carol.
And Genevieve.
And Carol inviting her to live together.
And Genevieve almost ripping off her clothes and sinking her nails in her skin.
And Carol's "I love you", whispered with glassy eyes full of passion and regret, in the middle of a restaurant.
And the way every inch of her body wanted to be touched by Genevieve.
"Therese, you're overreacting", she stated to herself. But her mind knew better. Now, laying on the couch and staring into the abyss of the nothing, she bitterly admitted to herself:
"What happened with Genevieve", first she just thought, as a secret;
"I wanted", she then stated out loud, running her shaking fingers through her hair.
Months ago, before traveling with Carol, she already knew she was falling in love; the tall, exquisite and blonde woman was the only thing she could think about, since the first time she laid her eyes on her. Carol was the reason she wrote letters and poetry; the reason why the urge to photograph had risen again inside of herself; Carol was the reason she sighed, smiled and cried and felt and dreamed and wanted things as she never did in her whole life before. Early in the process of falling in love with Carol and starting to truly love her, the young lady thought that, maybe, Carol was the one and only woman she would ever feel attracted and would desire.
Now she felt like there was not such a thing as the — kind of romantic — thought of feeling things only for the older woman she loved. Not after Genevieve. She desired the woman as much as she desired Carol when they were together in Waterloo.
Therese tossed and turned, never falling asleep again. She didn't know if her doubts, that came with Carol early in their relationship, were resolved now or if those doubts were actually duplicated.
[...]
Abby stroked Carol's hair with one hand and planted a kiss on the top of her blonde head while the other hand was holding Carol's body tightly. The woman was sobbing, crying in a way that Abby has never seen before, even with their longtime friendship. Falling apart.
Carol was always strong; an enigmatic piece of art; always so stiffened, steady, serious, with those blue eyes that could rip someone apart and a composure that made her look surreally cold. Sometimes it didn't even seem to people that Carol could feel things. But there she was, clinging to Abby's neck and shoulder, with her tears wetting the silk shirt the woman was wearing. "So fragile", Abby thought, "she could break at any moment"
"She didn't show up", the blonde said, still sobbing. Oh, how humiliating it felt to her to be like this! Exposing her deepest feelings and crying out her most painful, salty and bitter tears to Abby like she never did.
Abby was not convinced that Therese didn't want to live with Carol. She saw the young lady hurting and shattering when Carol had to leave; she saw Therese throwing up multiple times during their trip home and how the young brunette woke up startled, clearly looking for Carol, while sleeping in the backseats, as though that day was just a terrible nightmare. How could Therese neglect the woman she loved? Abby couldn't understand, she couldn't believe. Carol and Therese loved each other in a way that was out of this world; everything seemed too mediocre if ending like this and their love, their story together, was absolutely not mediocre.
"Carol, dear, let's get positive, okay?" she tried to alleviate the situation; she was trying to tell that to herself, actually. "Maybe something happened, how could you know, huh?" she caressed Carol's temple.
"I know what happened, Abby", the blonde said. "She's grown up now. She knows better"
"Exactly, and for that, she's supposed to be more mature and understanding, don't you think?"
"How could she?!" Carol pulled herself back. "I don't know, what was I expecting?! Of course she wouldn't come with me and just leave everything behind, Abby, she...", the woman wiped the tears off her eyes. "She's not naive anymore; she knows what is better for her now"
"And definitely I'm not good for her", Carol didn't finished the sentence, keeping the statement to herself, "maybe I never did".
Abby remained in silence knowing that maybe Carol was right. She didn't get to know Therese as her friend did. But something just didn't smell right. She had an intense intuition telling her that it all was an equivocate decision that the young brunette made.
"Anyway, I am here. I will always, always be" she managed to say. She couldn't handle to see her best friend, and also the person she most loved in the world, hurting like this. She wasn't angry or upset at Therese, even though she once was reluctant about the relationship between Carol and the young one, but she was disappointed to see a romance with a huge potential to work ending like that; and also, Carol's suffering made her suffer too.
Abby silently promised to herself she would find out the reason why Therese didn't accept Carol back in her life.
Carol just couldn't help but crying and mumbling nonsense; her friend thoughtfully prepared a bath for her with warm water and lead her to the bathroom; Abby picked some comfortable clothes and took it to her, kissing her forehead before leaving to the kitchen:
"I will make you something to eat"
"I am not hungry"
"I know" the woman smiled and left.
Carol entered the medium-sized bathroom and the first thing she did was looking herself in the mirror: her eyes were swollen, her nose was running and lips were quivering; she hadn't seen herself like this since Rindy's birth when she got a little depressed, feeling insecure and not enough to care for her child. Her hair was a mess, as though reflecting the inside of her mind: she always had control of her thoughts but now she was thinking a thousand per second and all of those thoughts were about Therese. Each and every of them.
She leaned her back to the bathtub letting the warmth calm down her shaking and fragile body; she was still crying but there was not tears, even though her face was contorted in a pain expression.
The night before happened just about thirteen hours ago but the disappointment was still vividly remembering: she waited for Therese to meet her, until the restaurant shut its doors. She met her friends and barely talked, barely paid attention to what they were talking about, anxiously expecting to see Therese's thin figure coming in her direction. She crossed and uncrossed her legs restlessly, look over the ambience discreetly a dozen of times and every person passing through the doors caught her attention, made her heart race.
When she realized it was past nine and her colleagues were leaving.
"Do you need a ride, ma'am?" a male voice, which she didn't recognize, asked, and she said no. Carol said her goodbyes to them and stayed, watching them leave.
As the time was passing, suddenly, everybody in the room was leaving too. And she was staying. Waiting.
Carol went home after that in complete silence and fell asleep quickly, feeling numb. She dreamed of Therese entering the restaurant looking for her and their eyes locking into each other.
The feeling from last night was scratching its way out of Carol's chest again, but this time she didn't let it out. She stood up, dried off and dressed the pair of clothes Abby lent her, not staring at the mirror this time.
In the kitchen, her lovely, thoughtful friend was waiting for her, sat by the table.
"I made some rice, spinach, boiled eggs and-" Abby tried to present her to the meal but was interrupted.
"You didn't need to, Abby, darling"
"But I wanted to" she said simply. "Now eat. And drink water. There's not any wine today, okay? You need to get hydrated"
Her tongue felt tasteless; she could actually feel the flavor of the food Abby prepared her with so much caring, — she knew Abby wasn't much of a cook — and she appreciated it. But her body couldn't process any emotion from eating something so good. She sighed as every second of silence sounded like bells ringing loudly; like waves splashing into her eardrums; like hearing the name Therese, Therese, Therese being shouted nonstop;
"It is really good" she reached Abby's hand and put a smile on her face. A sincere smile. "Thank you"
[...]
Carol was reluctant about sleeping, however much she felt terribly drained. She tried to go home but Abby didn't let her go.
"You're not leaving until I say so", her friend said with a severe tone and gaze. Carol wasn't in conditions to contest, anyway. "I prepared you the guest room; you're always welcome and now more than ever. If you need something from your apartment, we can go there together so you can get it" Abby continued. "But you're not leaving"
Carol's chest still felt heavy but her mask and steady composure were back again, so she didn't let sadness corrupt her again; she willingly offered to help with the dishes and after done, she went to sleep. Abby could tell she was going to grieve silently as she was used to do.
Therese couldn't sleep: she kept having nightmares every time her eyes closed. Random dreams fulfilled her mind as if her brain was processing scenes she actually lived in real life. In one of the scenes her mind projected, she saw herself at the Frankenberg's behind the counter and her eyes wandering through Carol's body in front of her in the distance. They staring each other, unconsciously, making something out of nothing. Carol's eyes getting bluer at each second. Carol's legs making her way closer and her mouth opening to ask something about dolls. Carol's hands leaving behind her gloves.
Therese woke up startled feeling something wet on her face; instinctively she rubbed her hands through her eyes and realized she was intensively crying.