Thursday night, no Friday. The small hours of Friday. I woke from heavy sleep, disturbed initially by the bathroom fan. But then I heard the sound of irregular panting, the sound of desperation, the sound of someone suffocating. Oxygen deprivation. I scrambled out of bed and pushed the door of the bathroom open. Carol sat curled on the floor, her head beside the toilet bowl. She had been crying manically, she looked like someone being strangled. She hadn't noticed me standing there, but when she did she tried to speak but couldn't manage a syllable. I knew her, I knew what she would have said.
"I am not going anywhere." She scrunched her eyes as her chest heaved inwards and outwards. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. I sat beside her and she leant her head on my shoulder, gripping a section of my pyjama shirt. She clung to me, which was better than pushing me away.
"I am afraid, Therese." Carol's dressing gown was falling off her shoulder, exposing her breast. Her words jerked out of her, inconstant as if the letters were not connected. "I am afraid of Harge." I wanted to say something, something that was solid and reassuring. Something that made her feel safe, but how can anyone create a sentence which accurately represents this hurdle. A hurdle. This hurdle.
"Carol, listen to me. Try to catch your breath but listen to me as well. Can you do that?" Carol nodded, focussing on her breathing rhythm. "You have never been a sprinter. This would never have ended quickly. Because of the type of people we are, it may never be over." I tucked her hair behind her ear. "But you are a hurdler, any problem you have faced you have gotten over it and moved away from it." I paused, trying to tie together my thoughts. "You have been conquering any objects in your way, this is something new, something more difficult to overcome. It was an invasion by someone you used to love, it hurts and it will continue to hurt, but you shouldn't hide your pain from someone who loves you. Someone who loves you right now, someone whose love will exist for many years to come. I am going to be here when you need me and when you do not. Please don't try to manage this on your own, because you don't need to." Carol sniffled and breathed in harshly. "Now, shall we get you cleaned up?" Carol nodded, I took her weight and lifted her up, she sat on the edge of the bath and I ran water into the sink. I picked a facecloth from the railing and a bar of soap, I rustled the soap in the water which rose in the basin. I turned the tap off and dabbed her face with the soapy water. I then rinsed the flannel of soap suds under the cold tap. "This is going to be cold, but it should help ground you, is that okay?" Carol looked down at the floor and nodded softly. I cupped her chin in my left hand and wiped her face with the cold flannel in my right. "Wait here a second, don't move." I kissed her cheek and went to the kitchen, I poured some milk into a pot and let it heat. I then took a glass from the cupboard and hurried back to the bathroom. I filled the glass with icy water and passed it to her. "Drink this and then we will get your teeth brushed, hopefully then you will feel a little more refreshed." She sipped some water while I put some toothpaste on her brush. I took her glass and gave her the brush, but her hands fumbled and moved limply, she was exhausted. "Open", I said and I brushed her teeth for her, her eyes would close momentarily before snapping open again. Once her teeth were clean I gave her the water to sip and I combed her hair from her face. Then I helped her to her feet and tightened her robe. "Do you want to go back to bed?" As I expected her head shook from one side to the other, I lead her into the living room where she sunk into the sofa. I then went to the kitchen and took the pot of milk of the stove and I poured it into a metal mug, there was enough for us both to have one. I carried the mugs into the living room and handed one to Carol. "Just try to relax, hopefully this will make you feel better." I then went over to the fireplace and set up a series of logs and kindling, I struck a match and placed it beneath the base of the fire. I waited until the flames began to grow before I shut the doors of the stove. Carol had started to calm, she blew feebly on the steaming milk. I sat beside her and she looked at me with both hopelessness and gratitude.
"Distract me, will you?" I smile at her and nod just the once.
"Can I ask you something?"
"As long as it isn't too sinister."
"Why furniture?" I paused, realising that the question was very clear. "You could walk into any job interview with your elegance and sophistication and get the job even if you had no experience of it. Put simply, you could get any job so why did you choose to be a furniture buyer?" Carol leant her head back, her hair falling behind her.
"I like the fact that I can contribute to people's lives without them knowing it. It is the furnishing of a house which helps make it into a home. Furniture can be joy and memories to an otherwise blank room. It means you can inspire someone's place of living, the vital place of their existence." She smiled, for the first time this morning she smiled, and allowed the cup of milk to seep past her lips. "So why literature, on your half, why the interest in it?"
"I was never very academic in school." I paused. "I never remembered the equations or the different types of stitching and needle point. But I could remember quotes from plays." I took a sip of warm milk. "I was good at theatre as well. I found that other people did not read the words the same way as I did, I thought words had a deeper meaning than what was written. Literature, for me, was not about purpose but about people. It was a window into the author's life and perspective. It was composed to be read and though the author may not directly know you, they knew you would be the one to read it. After I found out that I saw more in writing than others, I began to enjoy writing essays more. It was an indulgence for me to believe that for once I was adequate. Language is the essence of communication. You need to be able to understand what it is and what it isn't." Carol looked at me, pleased by my speech. The warmth of the fire had begun to loosen her tension, she drank the rest of the milk and lay down with her head in my lap.
"Keep talking." Her voice was softer now, no longer lashing under her pounding breath.
"I was close with both my drama and English teachers. Which just made me want to impress them more. I began stockpiling books and scripts, reading and rereading them, until I was able to quote them from memory. I liked poetry the most because there were hidden details and more elusive structures. I was most frond of the crossovers. In drama we learnt about techniques like a Greek Chorus, which had been referenced in a poem we once read in English. We were taught about practitioners like Brecht, who focused on morality tales and often spoilt the end of a play at the beginning, this was applicable to some of Shakespeare's works." I glance down and Carol's eyes were closed, but I doubt that she was asleep so I continued to talk as to not alarm her. "This overlap in content meant that both teachers were impressed. I would then go to libraries and borrow books which analysed what I liked to read in more depth. I read about theorists; Sigmund Freud, Carl Marx. I remember when Simone de Beauvoir released her book The Second Sex in 1949, I was so excited I waited for the bookshop to open and bought it off the shelf. I was a little younger back then, granted, but I liked reading more advanced books that weren't always targeted for my age group." I paused, Carol was drifting into sleep so I spoke a little more softly. "It made me feel smarter, reading books which were meant for adults. Soon young adult fiction did not appeal to me, the vocabulary was simple and it wasn't as well considered and crafted." Her body was totally relaxed, she placed her complete weight on me which was how I knew she was asleep. I sat with her head on my lap and I brushed a piece of her hair back behind her ear. I tried not to move significantly, I did not want to wake her. She was exhausted from crying and tomorrow will be an emotionally straining day.
"You don't need to be alone in this", I whispered, not anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Resolutions | Carol
Fanfiction(A fanfic sequel of the movie adaptation of Carol, staring Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara) (Sexual Content) Carol had once chose Therese, from a crowd of many, all of the women she could have had she chose Therese. Time had passed and secrets had un...
