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Carol hated shopping alone. It doesn’t matter if it was grocery shopping, clothes shopping, or Christmas shopping, she much preferred to stay at home until the very last minute if she needed something or had to buy presents.
So imagine her surprise when she’s striding down West Thirtieth with two large plastic bags full of clothes on her arm.
It was a lonely day. Therese was going to be at work until seven, Abby and her redhead had plans, and she herself didn’t have anything to do today on account of the new hires at the furniture store. So she thought she’d get out and be by herself for a while… Though she hates being by herself.
She strolled through some of the less expensive stores first, browsed, got a few jackets for Therese and some of those little hats that she used to wear, then another where she found a few dresses she liked. Now she’s slipped through the door of a nicer looking shop, bags still in hand, where she already has a hint of what she’ll buy.
There was a very handsome looking suit on a mannequin in the window. The jacket was a deep mahogany color with a matching pair of slacks. It looked smaller, too, smaller than the average man would wear. She knows exactly who it would look perfect on.
“Hello,” She says to one of the employees stocking the racks with blazers, “I’d like to purchase that suit in the window, do you have one in a size thirty-eight?”
The man stands up straight, adjusting his glasses with a size smile. She sees a bit of confusion on his face when she asks for the size, but nods anyway; “Yes, right over here.”
Carol is led over to the end of the rack where the short mahogany jacket is hung up. He picks it up and leads her over to where the pants are folded neatly on display, “Is this for your husband?” He asks, seemingly he noted the ring on Carol’s left ring finger, the one embroidered with sapphires. Not from a man, too glamorous to ever be.
“Lover,” Carol corrects boldly. She knows the man would take it in a “We haven’t made it that far yet,” way. He nods, unfolding the pants and setting them on the counter, then leading Carol over to a variety of ties and dress shirts.
“That’s a fancy ring, engaged?” He asks, Carol nods, slotting through the dress shirts to try and find a nice off-yellow one, or perhaps an olive green. She likes Therese in green.
“A couple months ago,” Carol lies, “Proposed to me at the Hudson.” She laughs at the thought. How beautiful would that be, for Therese to kneel at the Hudson river and open a small velvet box that contained the ring on her finger?
“Sounds like a real charmer.” Oh if only he knew, “What’s his name? I can embroider it on the coat, right here.” He picks the jacket up, throwing some suspenders aside and running his finger along a small space at the bottom of the jacket.
Carol considers. She purses her lips and responds in a beat, “Terry.”
“Terry?”
“Yes. T-e-r-r-y.”
“Alright then.”
Carol can’t help the smug grin that pulls on her face. She never calls Therese by the nickname, not unless if she’s mad at her, but it is rather masculine and a nice scapegoat it seems. She pulls a moss green dress shirt from the rack and sets it on the man’s counter, along with a black tie, watching him embroider the jacket with gold thread. Each letter forms under the delicate hand until the name is clear right on the bottom seem of the jacket: “Terry”
It’s an expensive suit, Carol could’ve told you that before she even walked in, and Therese doesn’t really like having a world of money spent on her, but Carol doesn’t care. She walks down the sidewalk with a different stride and a pleased smile on her face, obviously excited to get her darling a new gift.
She then gets to thinking, she needs an excuse for Therese to put on the suit, doesn’t she? She hums, maybe dinner tonight, to celebrate. Celebrate what she doesn’t know, does she really need an excuse to take Therese out to dinner?
She walks through the door and puts the bulk of the new clothes away, but not the suit. She lays it out on the bed, jacket, shirt, pants, suspenders and tie, then socks and a pair of black dress shoes she pulled from the closet that Therese hardly ever wears. Now all she needs is a dinner reservation.
Therese gets home a quarter after seven, her movements sluggish as she hangs up her jacket on the hook next to the door. Carol is already greeting her, grabbing her by the hips and smiling down at her, kissing her on the corner of her mouth, “How was work?”
“Exhausting,” Carol could never get tired of Therese’s voice, “They had me on my feet all day, apparently there were a bunch of misprints with the photos we got at the theatre…” She sighs, and Carol laughs.
“Too exhausted for dinner?”
“No, no… Well, what are you making?”
“I got us in at the Copa. If you hurry we can make it in time.”
Therese’s eyes widened, “The Copa?” She studies Carol as the woman hums, "What's the occasion?”
“Do I need an occasion to spoil you?”
Therese’s eyes narrow, it’s not uncommon for Carol to shower her with material things or dates. She steps away from Carol and to the bedroom, “Alright, let me get—”
She pauses as she opens the door and looks at the bed, seeing the suit laid out in front of her on the bed. She looks back at Carol who’s strutting up behind her, resting her head on her shoulder; “Do you like it?”
Therese glances at Carol then pads over to the bed, running her hand along the jacket of the suit. Firm fabric, yet comfortable on the inside, a rich brown color with a plaid pattern and pants to match. She lifts the shirt too, her eyes catching the golden letters under it on the jacket.
“Terry?”
“He asked for a name to embroider on it. I couldn’t tell him yours, obviously, so…” Carol trails off, looking to the side at nothing in particular. Therese’s cheeks light up in a slight blush, and immediately she starts to shimmy out of her sweater and skirt, pulling off her heels.
Carol watches attentively as she starts to get dressed. Pulling the slacks up then sliding on the dress shirt, buttoning it, then the suspenders. Carol has to help her with the tie, Therese never really wears them, and she catches herself blushing when Carol leans in a little closer to tighten it up her neck. She fixes her collar then pulls her arms through the blazer, fixing the buttons, then finally her shoes.
It’s a rather masculine outfit, even more so than the occasional dress suits Carol wears, yet somehow it fits Therese perfectly. Therese never considered herself masculine, or really had the opportunity to dress that way in the first place, but ever since she’s been with Carol she’s found the clothing to be far more comfortable and easier to wear than the garters and stockings she’s had to put up with.
Amidst her staring, Carol realizes she too has to get dressed, and reluctantly pulls her eyes away from the girl to head to the closet.
They’re sitting at a table surrounding a large stage where live music is being performed. Carol has a cocktail in her hand, tapping her foot to the music, meanwhile Therese is indulging in her steak right next to Carol. After a moment of silence between them, Therese speaks up: “Did you do something?”
Carol’s eyebrows furrow, “What?” She asks, a little tilt of her head, “Whatever do you mean, darling?”
“I mean…” Therese taps her fingers against the table, looking at the stage then at Carol, “Fancy new suit, fancy dinner…” She trails off, but Carol swears she sees the hint of playfulness in her eyes.
“Are you implying I’m trying to buy your forgiveness for something?”
Therese smiles faintly, “Are you?”
A low rumble of amusement escapes Carol’s throat. She sets her martini down and, with no sense of caution, lays a possessive hand on Therese’s thigh, “Do you think I did something?”
A deep blush flares on Therese’s cheeks, the sight makes Carol feel hungry for something other than her salmon and risotto.
“Do you think I’d ever keep secrets from you?”
Carol’s eyes pierce right through Therese, and any suspicions Therese had die right in her throat. She presses her lips together, suppressing the urge to kiss Carol right here and now. Carol can see the hesitation and it makes her tick. Couples in here kiss all the time, why can’t they?
They pull away from each other, trying not to think about anyone seeing their little display. They’re almost sure someone behind them is whispering something, and both of them collectively agree they’re just imagining things. It doesn’t stop them from brushing fingertips when the bottle of champagne is passed, though, or a right knee nudging a left one, or filthy little compliments slipping from Carol’s lips, promises that no one but them can hear. Therese gets so hot she has to pull off her jacket, and she can only imagine how people would look at this young, beautiful, and otherwise feminine girl in slacks and suspenders.
When they get home the suit is quickly forgotten about, alongside Carol’s dress, and the events that follow involve a cool bubble bath and Therese all but screaming Carol’s name. After they’ve finished (take that as you will) Therese is sore and curled up into Carol, weak as a kitten.
“Carol?”
“Hm.”
“Do you ever…” There’s a weighty pause, “It’s silly, but I wanted to kiss you, at dinner— When we were teasing each other.”
“I did, too,” Carol whispers with some humor, leaning down to press her lips against a sharp cheek.
“Why didn’t you?”
The answer is obvious, of course it is. Because they’re two women, and people would react badly… But why would they react badly?
“What do you mean?”
Therese didn’t look at Carol directly, instead tracing patterns against the freckles across her chest. She takes a deep breath before speaking, “Everyone else there was with a partner or a lover… Touching and kissing each other, even if it was little pecks…” She blushes saying it out loud. How juvenile. “Why can’t we do it? What’s so wrong about us?”
Carol’s eyes, to Therese’s surprise, light up with amusement, “What’s so wrong about us…” She echoes, then laughs. “They think we’re sick, darling.” She explains, easy as the wind.
Therese’s eyebrows furrow, “Why?”
Carol sighs, running her fingers through Therese’s short brown hair, “Because we’re different from them, and different is bad. Different means sick, or strange, or sin.”
Therese never really thinks about it. She knows what's safe and what isn’t, stomachs the feeling of hiding her emotions about Carol, about hiding herself, and hiding Carol all at the same time. Yet now she can’t help but wonder why? Who cares if they’re two women, or two men, or a richer, older woman and a younger, naive boy? Why do they care in the first place?
“We’re not appropriate for them, darling. I was told all about it during my… Therapy…” Carol hates thinking about that place, that awful office and her awful psychotherapist who had been a “great help” with “curing” her “hysteria”. Bullshit, “Most people consider our love to be dirty, isn’t that just ridiculous?” She studies the cool mint staring at her with such awe and thinks how in the world this could be dirty. “I’ve never felt so cherished in my life until I met you, how could I ever say that, and people see it as dirty?”
It truly amazed her the way people thought. Especially when her eyes drift down to how small Therese looks, how tired she is and how utterly safe she makes her feel. How could it ever be inappropriate, to make someone so happy? How could something so pure and healthy be between two sick people?
“When I bought you that suit, it irked me when he asked if it was for my husband,” Carol confesses, and Therese pushes her nose into the underside of her jaw, settling there, “He saw the beautiful ring, and assumed that such a handsome suit belonged to a man that probably would’ve never deserved it. It’s a shame that’s how people think, how they won’t know how much I love you because they’re too self-obsessed.”
Therese can hear the condemnation, the protectiveness and it makes her feel fuzzy. Wrong. Sick. Sinful. Dirty. She never felt any of that with Carol, not ever, not even after Tucker. She stayed up late and developed those photos with a smile on her face, with despair in her heart when Carol hung up on her, with an emptiness when she declined to live with Carol the first time. It never felt wrong, she never felt so right in her life, even when she realized for the first time the danger they could be put in.
“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” Therese says firmly, “Not ever. I don’t care what people think.
Carol hums, her eyes closed when she feels Therese’s lips on her skin, “I know, angel. You don’t, I don’t either, but I can’t fathom ever putting you in harm's way.”
Therese’s eyes droop shut as well. She brings a steady hand up to Carol’s side and squeezes, the metal of her ring digging into Carol’s skin, physical proof of their love as if they’d need any more of it.
“I love you, even if it’s wrong.”
Carol smiles, bringing her hand up to pet the back of Therese’s head.
“It could never be wrong, Therese, not if it’s you.”